by Eliza Park
The first week of September was when school started at Yale, the same week school would start at Saint Bridgette’s.
And Yale was the shit.
Not only was the campus incredible and laid out brilliantly, but the students and professors were on a whole other level of smart I’d only experienced in pockets. The buildings were ancient and Gothic and surrounded by the greenest grass. When my mom asked me how my first day was, I had to keep myself from explaining purely in expletives. Yale was exactly what I needed. No one knew who I was, no one knew who my dad was, and no one knew Celeste. I felt free, new, untouched by the shitty year I’d had up until my first day of classes. My only disadvantage was being a year younger than everyone here, turning 18 instead of 19, but I hoped my height and stature (thanks genetics) made me look like an average freshman and not some visiting high schooler.
My parents were adamant that I join something: a fraternity, a sport, a fucking slam poetry group, anything. Abel Lockwood seemed a little worried I was going to be stuck on Celeste forever, and to be honest, that was the plan. Until I attended her wedding to another guy, I would just have to hope I could mentally push her into a corner. But before that could happen, I was going to take full advantage of the sideways looks I was getting from the skirts around campus.
And there were a lot of them.
I attended the start of the year welcoming committee, where all the groups and their leaders lined up in front of the Sterling Library, with booths and pamphlets, attempting to attract fresh meat as they stumbled to their first day of classes. Nothing interested me immediately, and if it did, it reminded me too much of Saint Bridgette’s. Political groups, competitive academic groups, even the rowing team made me cringe, but I knew I needed something to placate my parents and add to my university resume. Even if my spot at the Lockwood Law group had been open since my birth, I could always use that extra push to put me above a competitor, just to rule out the obvious accusations surrounding nepotism. I told myself to give it a couple of weeks. I could join most of these groups at any time, and eventually one would jump out at me or I’d lower my standards enough to grit through it.
I’d elected to stay on campus that year, not needing to call attention to the wealth of my parents, which was already implied by my presence at that school. My roommates name was Brody, and we shared a tiny dorm room with narrow twin beds and matching wooden desks.
Brody and I were friends almost instantly. He’d busted into the room while I was flipping through one of my heavier textbooks, his loud family crashing in behind him with arms full of food and comfort items. His mom was a bigger lady, her skin the color of cocoa powder, and she forced me to tell her everything about myself the moment she spotted me. Brody and his dad were both quiet during this interrogation, choosing to set up all of his stuff and unload groceries into our tiny shared mini fridge. When I’d satisfactorily answered her questions, insisting I wasn’t into drugs, alcohol, violent video games, or loose women, she’d turned her attention to the room, which was far too small in her opinion and someone was going to have to answer for it.
Brody smiled at me while his dad followed his mom back out the car and held out his hand for me to shake. He was a skinny guy, shorter than me by an inch or so, and built like his legs were made of wheels. “The first thing you should know is that my mom is going to be here a lot, always with food.”
He was funny, and I noticed right away that he didn’t talk much, but when he did, he thought about every word that came out of his mouth, which I appreciated immensely. He was an engineering major, on an academic scholarship, and he had every intention of trying out for the Yale Bulldogs as a running back.
“The Bulldogs, huh? They any good?” I asked.
Brody didn’t mock my lack of knowledge on the subject, “Yeah, not bad. Won the last three Ivy League Championships if I remember correctly.”
I nodded, “Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty good.”
Football. Definitely not something I normally would have considered. But that was just it. I hadn’t played football since junior high, and I’d been a quarterback then. It was the one thing I could think of that was the exact opposite of anything I’d normally do. I shrugged it off, knowing I probably possessed a very small amount of athleticism, and any inkling I did have had been punched into a bag full of sand at Saint Bridgette’s.
We shared class schedules and he whistled low when he saw mine, “I guess I’ll see you at graduation. There’s no way you’re going to have any free time.”
It was admittedly a little intense, even the counselor had advised I trim out a class or two for my first semester, but I wasn’t worried. In fact, I was stoked for it. I was ready to be in an environment that would challenge me academically, and I’d been used to late nights for a long time.
In my first class, on my first day, I sat in the middle of the room, eagerly pulling out my laptop and relaxing into the hard plastic chair. The room was set up like a Broadway theater with rows of seats that went up to the entrance and looked down over where the professor would lecture. Trying to remain cool and not like I had a major hard-on for education, I leaned back in my chair and twirled a pen between my fingers, observing my fellow eager scholars as they piled in, some of them dressed like the first day at a new job, some wearing yesterday’s sweatpants.
Minutes before the class started, a thin blonde girl with giant brown eyes sat in the seat next to me. She smiled in a friendly way and pulled out her own laptop, opening up a blank word document. She didn’t wear a stitch of makeup, dressed casually in a t-shirt and jeans, and the only interaction we had was her smile at the beginning of the class, but still, I was uncomfortable. I focused on the front of the room and hoped she wouldn’t try to make conversation with me. It wasn’t that she made me nervous, just reminded me too much too soon of what I didn’t have.
I managed to focus on the professor the whole class, and as soon as it was over, I hopped out like my seat was on fire, getting to the entrance as quickly as possible. Apparently, despite my cavalier attitude towards other women, I wasn’t ready to make any moves just yet, and the thought put a damper on my otherwise polished first day.
I spotted Brody on my way out of the building. He was tossing a football back and forth with a couple of other bigger guys under the warm, early fall sun, looking like the picture on the university website. He was an easy-going guy, and I had no doubt making friends was second nature to him. I had a few minutes before my next class in the hall across the green, so I joined him just as he caught the ball in a perfect cradle. He nodded to me, “You on break from your seventh class of the day?” He joked.
I dropped my heavy backpack to the ground and held out my hands for him to toss me the ball, “I actually started teaching the last class,” I said, putting my fingers into their designated spots between the laces. “So, the professor asked me to leave.” I grinned at him and looked down the yard to the other guys. “I think I might have to find something else to occupy my time.” I threw the ball then, watching it arc straight into the hands of the bigger guy. I bent to pick up my backpack and straightened to see a broadly smiling roommate.
“Dude,” he said.
“What?”
“You should try out for the Bulldogs.”
I brushed the idea away, shrugging, “I’m not really into sports.”
The two guys Brody had been tossing the ball with approached us, and the larger one held out his hand to me, “Hey, I’m Logan. You’ve got a great fucking arm. You’re trying out for the team, right?” Logan was huge. Tall, shaved head, built like a steamroller huge. I guessed defensive line. I would not want to run into him on a field.
“I haven’t played in a long time…” I said, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t crush it by accident.
The other guy, equally as tall and massive, had dark hair and introduced himself as Noah, placing a large hand on my shoulder. “You need to try out.”
I coughed, “I don’t know, my s
chedule is pretty full.”
Logan stepped towards me, “You don’t understand. Our current QB is an asshole who can’t throw for shit.”
“He’s only supposed to be temporary, our QB from last year is under investigation for abuse against his girlfriend,” Noah added.
My smile evaporated, “Holy fuck.”
“Is he guilty?” Brody asked then, an edge to his voice.
Logan shrugged, “I don’t know, man, I never saw them together to be honest, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Noah kept his hand on my shoulder, “What’s your name?”
“Maverick.”
“You got a girlfriend, Maverick?”
I shook my head.
“Then you have time for football. We’ll see you at try-outs.” He pointed at me as they walked away, “Don’t disappoint me.”
“So,” I said, turning to Brody. “They seem nice.”
Brody’s face was darkened, his expression humorless, but he managed to give me a small smile, “You should get going, man, you’re going to be late.”
“You really think I should join the football team?”
“I think you should try to join the football team. They start next week. We can practice if you want, when you have time.”
I nodded, “Yeah, alright. Why not?”
Brody shook his head, “’Why not?’ He says, like people haven’t been dreaming about being a Bulldog their whole life.”
I smiled, waved goodbye, and headed for my next class, tugging on the strap of my backpack.
Football.
Celeste would laugh at the idea and I scowled, the sound of her laughter drifting through my conscience and setting off a roll of sharp pains in my chest. She was probably back in Ramirez’s fucking arms after he snuck into her cold, lifeless room. I wasn’t surprised their relationship lasted the summer, Ramirez was far too persistent and desperate to let go of her. I glowered down at my feet, cursing myself for letting my mind even go in this direction. Our romantic relationship may not have lasted long, but sometimes I wondered if I’d tried a little harder if she’d still tentatively be mine.
My next class was smaller, the professor younger, the classroom more intimate, and the whole thing was treated more like a discussion instead of a lecture. Yale was going to be fucking brilliant.
Walking through the halls of my lecture rooms, I saw the brown eyed blonde again. She smiled at me as we passed in the hallway and because I was in such a good mood from the high of the last class, I returned it. She blushed and looked down at the books in her arms, and I turned to check out her small, firm ass as she walked away.
Football.
Great Classes.
Hot girls.
I was walking on fucking air.
Chapter 13
Celeste
Summer sucked.
Most of my free time was spent in session with Dr. Rosenburg, who said nothing helpful and kept changing up the doses of my pills so often I would mix them up and throw them away. She eventually got me on a regimen that didn’t make me sleep for 14 hours a day and I stuck with it. My mother tried to take me to France for a shopping trip but ended up spending all of her free time talking to designer salesclerks while I sat in the corner and texted Eli.
Eli was with his grandparents all summer, stuck on an island doing construction or landscaping. The night of the Spring Formal I’d managed to get out of having sex with him, and as our time apart increased, his horniness did the same. He remained that sweet, caring guy I thought he was, always asking how my day was and wondering how I was feeling. It was easy to fall for him again, the obsession I’d nurtured returning bit by bit with every sweet message he sent.
By the first day of school, I was ready. Dirty texts only went so far, and I’d forgotten what it was like to kiss him, giving into the fantasies I had conjured in my head during those hot summer nights.
He’d greeted me at the train station with a massive bear hug, his beautiful grin so wide it was blinding. His curly hair was longer and streaked with warm gingerbread, his eyes the color of melted caramel, crooked smile highlighting that single dimple. I stood on my toes, wrapping my arms around his neck, and kissing him. To my surprise, his technique had improved over the summer and a stream of anxiety wove its way through my subconscious. Had he cheated? He held me close, his lips forming over mine with a gentle urgency. I pulled back when I heard the train whistle blow and beamed up at him.
“Walk me to my room?” I asked, biting my lower lip.
He nodded, taking my hand, his long fingers linking through mine, “I missed you,” he said, voice caressing me in velvet and silk.
“I missed you too,” I touched the warm skin of his forearm, “You look extra tan.”
“Puerto Rican sun.”
We made our way to my room, the smell of recently cut grass accompanying our journey, my stomach doing nervous bouts of gymnastics. I asked him to wait outside the window while I went in, waved hello to the grumpy nun on duty, and raced across my stagnant dorm to unlock and throw open the window.
Eli climbed in one long leg at a time, glancing around with his mouth open. Then we were facing each other, and my heart was bouncing with anticipation.
He stepped forward and I could hardly keep from giggling as our bodies met and fell on the bed. His hands were pulling off my jeans and I was removing his t-shirt between rushed, sloppy kisses. We couldn’t move quickly enough, and when he was finally naked and I was just in a bra, he hovered above me, sweating and nervous. I ran my hands down his chest, enjoying every groove and muscle, and wrapped my fingers around his hard shaft.
He closed his eyes and smiled, “I’ve been dreaming of this all summer.” He thrusted gently into my grip and I spread my legs, my feet resting on his hamstrings.
“Me too,” I grinned, “You can touch me back, you know,” I teased.
His caramel eyes darkened, turning to syrup, and he leaned onto one elbow, his other hand moving down my body and coming to rest at the spot between my legs, a bit of confusion evident on his handsome face.
I grabbed his hand with my free one and started to guide him, “You could—.”
“I know what I’m doing,” he snapped, shaking my hand off of his.
I froze, “Sorry, I didn’t mean—.”
He shook his head, curls shifting, “No, I’m sorry.” He let out a forced chuckle and looked up at me with a kind expression, then kissed me gently, “I’m sorry, I’ve just been waiting for this for so long, I think I’m nervous.”
“That’s okay,” I brushed his apology aside.
“Let’s start over,” he said, his lips descending on my neck.
“Sure,” I whispered, closing my eyes as he kissed his way to my shoulder. His hand roamed down my stomach and made its way back to my very eager sex. His fingers dug into the sensitive skin and I jerked in response. He was digging through the flesh like it was a pile of dirt with treasure underneath. I wasn’t sure if I should correct him, afraid he’d leave if I offered more criticism. Without warning, his finger delved into my vagina. I gasped and felt him chuckle against my neck.
“You’re wet for me, baby.”
I whimpered through a laugh, eyes shut tightly. Whatever he was doing, he clearly had not practiced on another girl. It wasn’t painful, but I couldn’t find any pleasure in it. Without realizing, I had stopped stroking him back, and he thrusted into my hand to remind me to keep going.
“Feels like you’re ready,” he said quietly into my ear.
I tried to remember how long I’d been waiting for this, how many fantasies I’d had with this particular man in my head. His fingers were inside of me, his dick in my hand, his curly hair brushing against my shoulder, hot breath on my neck. It was all I’d wanted for years, but now that it was happening, I felt…reluctant. He withdrew his fingers and I almost sighed with relief. He moved over me, his chest pressing against mine.
“You have the most amazing body,” he said, eyes pouring over m
y chest and stomach. His lips let mine, urgent and sloppy and I felt him pressing against my entrance.
“Condom!” I said then, a little too loudly.
His eyes widened and he climbed off of me quickly to search through the pockets of his jeans. Then he was above me again, tearing the packet open with his teeth and gliding it slowly over his slightly angular penis. Eli smiled at me and I shivered, the anticipation causing goosebumps to prickle all over my skin. He placed himself where I thought I had wanted him most, and slid in gently, groaning.
“Are you okay?” He asked, hesitating.
I nodded. I was okay. This was so much better than what I’d just been experiencing, and I relaxed. Maybe foreplay wasn’t his thing, but it was something we could definitely work on. I was happy again, excited, loving the way he felt inside of me.
Elliott moved then, his movements slow and very inexperienced and I moaned, feeling full. I put my hands on his hips, trying to guide him further in, but he withdrew and pushed back in then, a little more harshly.
It was awkward, but it fell pretty great, so I ran my hands up his chest and kissed his neck.
After a few seconds and a couple more pumps, he grunted, and I watched with shock as he pulled out of me and rolled onto his back, eyes closed, smiling.
I looked down at where our bodies had met just a moment ago and realized with disappointment that he had finished and was currently rolling the condom off of his dying cock.
“Oh,” I said. I knew that sex took practice and bumbling and giggling before reaching that mutual sexual satisfaction, but I hadn’t been expecting something so quick. “Were you a virgin?” I asked, rolling onto my side to look at Eli’s curly black hair.
His eyes shot open, and he looked over at me, glaring. “No, I told you I’ve had sex before.”