Diesel

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  I am in the office of the head of the biology department of Georgia Union University, home of the fighting Pythons, and where both Olivia and I attend college. Upon graduation from high school, I had a lot of enticing offers on the table for places to attend school to play football, but most of them were from Ivy League universities that Olivia didn’t have a chance in hell of getting into—so those were definitely out. I didn’t tell her that, of course, because she would have had my head on a platter if she knew, but there was no way I could be apart from her for four years.

  “What did you want to discuss, Dr. Hammond?”

  “At first when I saw that a major player of our football team was also majoring in biology, I was skeptical. I haven’t run into too many players with your high level of academic aptitude or interest in biology.”

  “I think you’re buying into the stereotypes of the dumb athlete, sir,” I say curtly.

  “I’m sorry if that’s what you think I’m saying. It’s just that my experience tells me that most student-athletes have focused all of their energies on their athleticism and not on academics. You’re a pleasant surprise is all I’m saying, and I think you should seriously consider a profession in the sciences.”

  “Thank you for the kind words, but I’m a football player first and foremost. I’ll always have my education to fall back on when I can’t play anymore.”

  “So your degree from Union is your backup plan?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The sciences are a competitive area of study too. Internships are hard to come by, and it isn’t easy to get into good postgraduate programs, so I’d take it a little more seriously.”

  “I’ll consider what you’ve said. Thank you for the meeting.”

  Dr. Hammond sighs with dissatisfaction. He obviously didn’t get the response he was hoping to receive from me.

  “Okay, Mason. I hope you give it some thought. Football is a brutal way to make a living. I’m just saying that you have something that a lot of other students on your team don’t have—options.”

  Dr. Hammond has given me a lot to think about, and unfortunately has stirred up doubts in me that I’ve long had concerning choosing football over a career in the sciences. My mom has always encouraged my interest in the medical field whereas my dad has always encouraged my talent at football. I’m sure they didn’t mean to confuse me, but they have done just that. Sometimes I’m not sure if my interest in either one is genuinely mine or just a result of parental encouragement.

  As I make my way across campus to meet Olivia, I receive an incoming call from an unknown number on my cell phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Dude!”

  It’s my uncle and pseudo sports agent, Uncle Quincy. Every time he calls it’s from a different number which is why I didn’t know it was him at first. He’s a gambler, a lawyer, and my dad’s younger brother. In fact, we’re only twelve years apart which is why I call him by his first name. He would kill himself if I called him uncle anything.

  “Where are you, Quincy?”

  “I’m in Vegas at the Bellagio. You’ve got to see it one day. It’s just like the movies. Dude, what are you doing right now?”

  “Meeting my girl.”

  “What else is new.”

  “I’m not in the mood for it, Quincy.”

  “I’m just saying, Olivia is a sweet girl and all, but is she really worth you playing ball at a second-rate college?”

  “Union is not a second-rate school.”

  “And why are you always meeting her every day? You should give that girl some breathing room. She needs to find her own way in this world too.”

  “She’s my best friend. Of course, we hang out all the time. You wouldn’t be saying this if this were a guy.”

  “You kiss all your best friends on the mouth?”

  “How is this any of your business?”

  “You’re suffocating her, dude, not to mention yourself. Have you even tasted any of that Georgia Union tail since you got there?”

  “I’ve literally been here three weeks and the answer to your question is no. Olivia is my girl. My heart. I would never cheat on her.”

  “We’ll see if you’re singing the same tune when girls start camping out at your dorm after you win a game or two for that sorry university.”

  “A wonderful university where my dad, your brother, makes a living.”

  “Which is fine, but you and I both know you could have been playing for Michigan, Notre Dame, or Stanford. You would have gotten TV time and a great education.”

  “Scouts come to Union all the time.”

  “Only if they have a reason to come, which is in fact why I called you.”

  “Finally the point of this call. What is it?”

  “I have it on good authority that a few select scouts are going to be visiting Union, upon my request, to watch you play the home game against Tech U. If you give them a little showtime in that game, I guarantee that you will be in a great position to enter the draft.”

  “Freshman year?”

  “Kids are entering the draft early now these days, especially phenoms like you, and you’ve been on these guys radar for years. So you talk to that quarterback of yours and make sure he throws you the ball during that game.”

  “I’m a freshman.”

  “But you’re a starter.”

  “Nobody is going to throw me the ball because I ask them to.”

  Especially the asshole quarterback, Scott Dobson. He’s been hazing me since I got here. My only reprieve has been the time that I spend with my father in the training room.

  “My brother knows everybody on the team. They won’t listen to him?”

  “I’m not going to ask Dad to talk to the players for me? That’s a bitch move. They would never pass me the ball again.”

  “Fine.” He sounds angry. “I’m out here busting my hump to get you setup in the sweetest way possible, but if you want to blow it because of formalities then—”

  I forgot that I’m dealing with a crazy person. My dad has always taught me to just tell Uncle Quincy whatever he wants to hear and things will be much easier.

  “Don’t worry about it, Q. I’ll handle it. Just play twenty dollars on red seventeen for me at the roulette table.”

  “Gotcha, dude! I’ll call you when it gets closer to game time.”

  “Thanks again.”

  “No thanks are necessary between family, superstar. Just make sure you’re in tip-top shape for the game. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye.”

  14

  Olivia

  Practically every day since we’ve started Georgia Union, Mason meets me on the yard when my afternoon class ends at two o’clock. His schedule is quite full, and the two of us take classes at completely opposite ends of the campus, so it’s generally the only time we can spend together.

  When he comes within eyesight of me, he stops walking, holds his arms out wide and waits with a huge grin on his face. He’s waiting for me to run, jump into his arms, and wrap my legs around his waist.

  As if.

  It’s never going to happen, but Mason already knows that, because it’s actually a private joke between us. In one of my favorite Thunder Road videos, the lead singer has a scene where he does the same thing with the main video girl. The only difference is he’s singing to her while she runs toward him.

  “When are you going to stop embarrassing yourself with that whole act?” I tease.

  “When you finally break down and do it.”

  “It’s never going to happen.” I laugh.

  “If I was the lead singer of Thunder Road it would happen.”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “I’ll give you a head start for saying that shit and that’s about it.”

  “You better not—”

  “Three … two …”

  I don’t wait to hear the rest of the countdown before I start running. I was always a fast runner,
and with a head start I could have had a chance to make it to my dorm before Mason, but my boyfriend is an athletic phenomenon. It doesn’t take long for him to catch up to me, lift me up in his arms, and run with me like I’m a sack of potatoes.

  Everyone who’s walking to their next class or just hanging out on campus watches the spectacle we’re making of ourselves and starts laughing or cheering us on. A year ago something like this would have made me feel embarrassed, but now I’m starting to get used to it. I have no choice. Even as a freshman, everywhere that Mason goes on this campus he is recognized. Football is everything to the students here. Plus, half of our town attends Union.

  “Put me down.”

  “That doesn’t even sound sincere.”

  “Oh, I’m serious.”

  Mason puts me on my feet and quickly kisses me.

  “How was class?”

  “The same.”

  “It will get better.”

  “I just didn’t think I’d be taking all of these remedial courses.”

  “They’re not remedial.”

  “Well, how come you don’t have to take any of them then?”

  “Stop comparing yourself to me or anyone else. You are Olivia Robertson and you are one of the most interesting and unique girls I have ever met. You will figure out what your major should be eventually and even if you don’t, I will always take care of you.”

  “Oh, because you’re going to be the superstar wide receiver in the NFL.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck.

  “That’s right and it may happen even sooner than you think.”

  I recognize the glint in Mason’s eyes. There clearly is something he hasn’t told me.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  I step back from him and take a seat on the grass. Patting a spot beside me.

  “Sit.”

  “My uncle is in Las Vegas.”

  “Is he?” I smile.

  Mason’s Uncle Quincy is a colorful character who acts informally as his agent and protects his interests. A plan created by Mason’s dad so that he’d always have people around him who he could trust.

  “Gambling as usual.”

  “I assumed that was what he’s doing. What else is there to do in Vegas?”

  “Get married.”

  “Yuck, I would never want a Vegas wedding. Too tacky. Too over-the-top.”

  Mason rolls me over on my side.

  “So what kind of wedding would you want?”

  “I want a church wedding, in the summer, by the water, and I want a Thunder Road cover band performing at the reception.”

  “You are insane and very particular.”

  “You asked me, and that’s what I want.”

  “I am not having some tired-ass boy band rejects perform at our wedding.”

  “Who says it’s our wedding?”

  Mason playfully starts to growl and tickle me again. We roll around on the freshly mowed grass and I continue to laugh as blades of grass end up in my mouth and damn near up my nose.

  “I can’t breathe!” I exclaim. “Stop it.”

  Mason rolls over and ends up on top of me. The weight of his body is heavy and hot and turns me on even in the middle of a campus full of people. My desire for him grows stronger with each day we’re together and is probably fueled more by the unknown.

  I am still a virgin.

  “If you’re still talking, then you’re still breathing.”

  He kisses my mouth swiftly.

  “Get a room!” someone walking by jokes.

  Mason rolls back over on the grass and clasps his hands behind his head.

  “I need to win this game against Tech U, babe. I need Dobson to throw me the ball.”

  “You’re just a freshman.”

  “Who is a starter.”

  “He doesn’t trust you yet. You have to give him time.”

  “And I’m sure stealing his date in the middle of Harvest Dance didn’t help matters.”

  “That was eons ago.”

  “That’s funny because he acts like it was yesterday.”

  “They’re just hazing you because you’re new and because your father works here. They don’t want you to think you’re special.”

  He turns and stares right in my face. “When I so clearly am.”

  “You’ve always thought too highly of yourself.”

  “So have you.”

  “You must be high. I couldn’t stand you when we first met. I thought you were an annoying, oversized, blowhard.”

  “But you got on my bike.”

  “That broken down mountain bike.”

  “That bike was a work of art.”

  “Do you still have that thing?”

  “My mom stole it in the middle of the night like a thief thanks to your mom.”

  “Yeah, my mom loves a good yard sale.”

  “At least some little boy somewhere will be able to say he’s riding Mason Bridgewater’s bike one day. He might even be bragging about it right now.”

  I roll my eyes and sigh.

  He’s hopeless.

  And so damn adorable.

  “Or a little girl is.”

  “It’s a boy’s bike, babe.”

  “Bikes don’t have a gender.”

  “We’re debating this again?”

  “Gender is a social construct created by man.”

  “I thought you were past this. If you want to play football then there are amateur women’s football leagues, Olivia. They’ve even got those lingerie ones. You would look fucking hot running down the field in a red bra and panties.”

  I hit him in the side with my fist.

  “Oomph!”

  “There should be professional leagues in the states for women just like there are for men.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you, but the problem is that part of the reason why men like to watch football is because it’s a violent sport. The closest thing to war without having to really go to war. No man wants to watch a woman get her ribs fractured or her teeth knocked out, and they definitely don’t want to pay to watch it.”

  “Whatever.” I suck my teeth.

  We’ve had this debate a million times over the years.

  “Listen, I know you love football, probably more than any guy or girl I know, but there are plenty of ways to love it and to be a part of it without having to play it.”

  “I’ll remember this speech when the time comes for you to retire.”

  “Now that’s just plain ole mean, JG.”

  Humph.

  “You didn’t finish telling me why this Tech U game is so important to you.”

  He presses his lips together like he’s holding onto the words. Like he doesn’t want to tell me.

  “Spill it.” I prod him further.

  “Quincy has some scouts coming to the game.”

  “Scouts this early?”

  “He said that one of them might make me a decent offer if I enter this year’s draft.”

  The thought makes me nauseous.

  “The draft?”

  15

  Olivia

  I sit up to full attention on my knees.

  “You are not entering the draft, Mason Bridgewater.”

  “Shhh,” he reprimands me. Still casually lying on the ground like he didn’t just drop a bomb on me. “Someone will hear you.”

  There are eyes and ears everywhere on campus especially when it comes to athletes, so this probably isn’t a conversation we should be having here on the yard, but he started this so I’m going to finish it.

  “Mason,” I whisper. “You’ve been in college for like two seconds. You are not entering the damn draft.”

  “Guys are entering the draft earlier and earlier. You know that it’s a big risk playing college ball for four years. What if I get hurt and I never get to go pro?”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “I appreciate the confidence, babe, but it’s not realistic to say that. This is a gladia
tor sport, and at some point, I will get hurt. The question is when and how badly. I’d rather it not be in college. I’d rather it be after I’ve secured a decent pro contract for myself, and given you the wedding you want and built us the house that we’ll need for all of our kids.”

  “Kids?”

  Mason laughs at me. He knows that I’m not frightened of much, but the thought of a human being coming out of my body is simply terrifying.

  “Lots of ’em.”

  “I don’t have babies with idiots.”

  “You don’t have babies at all unless you have sex.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

  “We’ve had this conversation,” I say defensively.

  The truth is that I’ve been thinking about having sex with Mason a lot lately. It’s hard not to. He’s drop-dead gorgeous, charismatic, sexy, and more importantly, I know that he cares about me. More than probably any guy ever will.

  He’s also on the fast track to becoming football famous, and I know that there are girls everywhere on this campus that are more than willing and able to sleep with him. Do I want to have sex with him for the right reasons? Is it because I’m afraid that someone else will do it if I don’t, or is it because I truly love him?

  “Take a chill pill, tough girl. I’m only kidding. I’m perfectly fine with you setting the tempo. I will wait for you for as long as it takes. Except for a kiss though. I want one right now, and I won’t wait for it.”

  He growls as he grabs me effortlessly by the hips and pulls me on top of him, but I press my lips tightly together to avoid the kiss in protest of his considering the draft.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not.”

  “Not until you reconsider the whole draft thing.”

  He stares earnestly into my eyes and just like that, everyone around us seems to fade into the background.

  I only see him.

  Hear him.

  “I’m not making any definite decisions right now, because you’re right. I just got here, and there’s no reason to rush things. Okay?”

  I didn’t realize how tightly wound my body was from just the thought of Mason entering the draft. Immediately his words give me a sense of relief.