by Cassie Cole
Not only was Lance not injured, but he lined up for the next play, even though it ended up being a running play. But on the play after that they ran a cross route, and Danny hit Lance in the chest with a laser-like throw. Lance took three steps and dove for the end zone, extending the hand with the ball and crossing the line. The referee at the far end stuck both hands straight up in the air to signal the touchdown.
“Yes!” I shrieked so loud that the students in front of me turned around and winced. “Yeah Lance! Yeah Appleton!”
Lance ran to the edge of the student section and flexed both arms for the crowd of students, who roared with glee. Then Lance did something strange: he slapped the back of his leg several times.
“What kind of celebration is that?” Aly wondered.
Lance pointed up at the crowd. In my general direction. That’s when I got it: his hamstring. He gave me a thumbs-up before jogging off the field.
Maybe I am part of the team, I thought as the rest of the game went on.
17
Lance
Winning a college football game was the best feeling in the world.
Danny, Feña, and I walked across campus later that night to go to a party, and everyone who recognized us came running up to take selfies and congratulate us on the win. It was the closest thing to celebrity worship that someone could get. In this little university bubble, we were gods.
The music was pumping at the frat party, which was already filled with people when we arrived. A cheer went up among the house as we walked up the front steps. It was a gauntlet of high-fives, hugs, and fist-bumps. Beer—and other dubious drinks—were shoved in my face like the sacrifices peasants made to kings. The whole thing got my adrenaline pumping. It was nice.
For a little bit.
After five minutes, I got sick of the repetitiveness of it all. Thanks bro, it was a sick catch. No worries dude, we’ll put up 50 against San Antonio State later this year. Fuck yeah you can squeeze my bicep.
Soon it became a blur. A featureless background hum, like the rumblings of a very loud machine. My mind tuned it out, and my responses went on autopilot.
I wasn’t trying to be a dick. It was just draining.
Most of these people didn’t know me. Not really. They just wanted to pretend like they were my oldest friend, and take a selfie to post on social media to score fake internet karma. It was exhausting smiling and faking enthusiasm after a while.
The three of us made our way through the party to the keg, then found a relatively quiet little corner of the back yard where there was more fresh air. I took a long drink from my beer and then sighed.
“A girl proposed to me,” Feña said with a weary smile. “On the way inside. I had never met her before in my life.”
“Well? What’d you say?”
“I told her I would consider the offer.”
“Do it, man,” I said. “That girl isn’t gonna wait around forever.”
“It’s not like you’re getting any younger, either,” Danny offered.
“Hey, did any of you invite Roberta out?” I asked.
“I texted her about the party,” Danny replied. “No idea if she’ll come.”
“Yeah? You looking for a repeat of last week?” I slowly thrust my crotch back and forth in the air to demonstrate what I meant.
“Naw, man. It’s not like that.”
“Sure.” I pulled out my phone and began texting.
Me: BOBBIE G! There’s a baller ass party with your name on it and everyone’s asking about you. Get down here and help me drink all this beer!
Me: Chi Omega house. 8th Street. Be here or be square.
Me: Or a loser. You’d be a loser to not come. All the COOL kids are here. And by that I mean me, Danny, and Dreamboat McFernando
After a few seconds she responded.
Roberta: Damn, dude! I’m coming!
“She’s on her way,” I announced. “Be a gentleman to her.”
Danny gave half a grin. “I’m probably not going to stay too long. Just making an appearance after the win.”
We’d trounced Austin College, 42-14. And the 14 points were only because Coach put in the second string defenders in the fourth quarter, who allowed two garbage-time touchdowns. After a big start to the season, even Danny—who normally avoided these kinds of things—liked to show his face and soak up some praise.
Feña nodded past me. “We are being hunted.”
I glanced over my shoulder. A cluster of sorority girls in matching tight leather pants had come outside and were lingering a safe distance away, carefully pretending not to be staring at us. One of them made eye contact with me, and grinned widely.
I turned back around. “We need to stand closer together. Like a pack of zebras on the nature channel. Harder to pick us off that way.”
“Our numbers aren’t strong enough,” Danny said behind his beer cup. “Incoming.”
“Lance!” one of the girls said behind me.
I thought of myself like a mascot at Disney World. Even when I wasn’t in the mood, it was my job to be enthusiastic and friendly. I spun around and spread my arms theatrically. “Howdy, y’all!”
The girls—four of them, since one had stayed behind—giggled. “Lance Overmire, I just wanted to say you were fantastic out there today. You were too, Danny.”
“So amazing,” one of the other girls said. Her face was trembling underneath her blown-out hair. “You were so amazing. The way you threw the ball, like, right to Lance, it was…”
“So amazing?” I said.
“Yeah! Totally!”
These kinds of girls were more exhausting than most. Not that there was anything wrong with sorority girls. Some were downright pleasant. But there was a certain stereotype that many of them fell into, like these four.
Not only that, most of the sororities had fall homecoming parties where potential rushes came and met everyone in the sorority. A lot of these girls liked to bring football players as dates to make their sorority look more prestigious. Like trophy wives, but with dicks.
I’d gotten hooked into one of those my sophomore year. And I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.
“So amazing…” the girl repeated, transfixed by Danny’s presence.
Danny slapped me on the arm. “I’m going to go find Trevor and say hi. Thanks for the kind words, ladies, but if you’ll excuse me…”
He quickly disappeared through the crowd. I gave him a stare that might as well have been a middle finger.
I turned to ask Feña about a class schedule change he was going to make, but found him gone from my side. The dark-haired Chilean was wandering away in the opposite direction, around the side to the front of the house. Leaving me alone.
The four girls smiled at me like dogs that had found a steak.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I was totally natural in these kinds of situations. A little confidence—and even cockiness—went a long way, especially when you were already a tall, good-looking guy. So I humored the girls, told some jokes, and deflected their poorly-veiled attempts to seduce me.
When I’d finished my beer, I excused myself and went back inside to get another. Fresh beer in hand, I went looking for Danny. He wasn’t in the dining room, or the living room. I paused by the couch to say hi to one of the running backs on the team, a sophomore named Jamal who would probably be a first-round draft pick for the NFL in a couple of years.
But the sorority girls had found me, and were lingering on the periphery of the room. Surrounding me like defenders in a football game. Cutting off my escape. Preparing to tackle.
When Roberta came through the door with a beer in her hand, it was like being thrown a life preserver.
“Babs!” I waved wildly. “Over here!”
As she made her way through the crowd, I could see the eyes of the four sorority girls tracking her silently. Sizing her up. Wondering who she was. When she finally got to me, I gave her a big hug. Her hair smelled fruity, and she fit perfectly in my arm
s.
“You came!” I said.
“That’s what she said.”
“Hah!”
“I couldn’t let you drink all the beer yourself.” Her wry grin lit up her beautiful face. “Plus, you sounded kind of desperate in your texts.”
“I’m not desperate,” I replied smoothly. “I’m adorable. Everyone says so.”
“Well, I wanted to congratulate you guys on the win. You kicked ass today.”
“Right? Oh! Did you see my touchdown celebration? I dedicated it to your awesome PT. My hammy felt great all game.”
“Oh, is that what that was?” she said, but little red dots touched her cheeks. She took a sip of beer to cover it and added, “Glad you were healthy.”
“Thanks to you. We should do PT every night.”
“Sounds like an excuse to get me to touch your body some more,” she said.
“Hey, you’re the one getting the treat there,” I grinned. “See these sorority girls circling like vultures? They’d fight each other to the death for a chance to rub my hamstrings.”
“Alright, then if you don’t need me…”
She pretended to leave, but I protested and moved to block her way. Then she grinned even wider.
“That’s what I thought.”
All jokes aside, last night was strictly professional. A physical trainer working on a problem area. I had a tight muscle, and she was skilled in resolving that kind of problem. End of story.
Except there was something strangely intimate about being worked on with her. It was different with Roberta than with the other trainers I’d had over the years. Maybe it was the fact that it had happened in the comfort of our house rather than in the medical room of the athletic building.
Or maybe it’s because she’s super fucking hot.
She glanced around the party, which gave me an opportunity to check her out. I did it automatically, the way all guys checked out girls. She wore tight jeans with four buttons in a vertical line rather than a zipper. They hugged her hips and tight little ass like they were painted on. Her shirt was like a dark tank top, showing off her shoulders and defined collar bones, except it was short and revealed a delicious amount of midriff.
Yeah, there was no hiding it. Roberta was much better looking than the other trainers I’d had.
“You’re looking fine tonight,” I blurted out. Bluntness was my defense mechanism. “And I don’t just mean fine. I mean F-I-N-E fine.”
That blush returned. “You trying to hook up with me or something?”
“What, a guy can’t compliment a girl without there being an ulterior motive?”
“A guy can,” she pointed out, “but that’s not usually how it works.”
I scoffed. “Fuck that. I like complimenting people. Hey Jason!” I waved to one of the other wide receivers who was walking past us. “You’re looking fine, bro.”
The football player blinked. “Uh, thanks?”
“Anytime.” I smacked him on the ass as he passed, which made Roberta bust out laughing. When she finally stopped, I said, “See? I’m a complimenting kind of guy.”
“Well, I appreciate the kind words, but I’m under dressed compared to most of these girls.”
“That’s the point,” I said, gesturing with my beer. “Sometimes it’s better to be casual than way too fucking fancy. Not every girl has to wear a dress and heels and spend the day at the salon to look good.”
Roberta raised an eyebrow at me, and then jerked her head. “You mean you don’t think that’s hot?”
I followed her gaze to a tall brunette that was walking across the backyard. She was wearing a crimson cocktail dress that was so tight her tits looked like they were going to explode out the top. As she passed I got a look at her apple-shaped ass. Every guy at the party within view watched her walk back inside.
“Well yeah, she’s hot as fuck,” I grinned. “I’d gladly drown myself in those ass cheeks. But you look just as good with, like, a tenth of the effort.”
She gave me a funny look. “Thanks, Lance.”
We hung out in the backyard while nursing our beers. I liked Roberta because she wasn’t obsessed with the college popularity stuff like the other girls. She seemed above it all, like an adult who had already graduated and knew that none of this mattered in the grand scheme of things. She was also easy to be around, for a woman. I didn’t have a lot of female friends that stayed friends.
That’s because I always hook up with them.
While Roberta and I chatted, I toyed with that idea in my head. She was cool as shit, and I wasn’t just flattering her when I said she was hot. If it weren’t for her being our physical trainer, I’d totally be down for hooking up with her.
What’s stopping you? a devilish voice whispered in my head.
She was grinning at something I’d said. She had a great smile, one which burst onto her face and lit up her eyes. And those lips were so damn kissable…
I shook it off and glanced at my empty beer. “You want another?”
She put one hand on her hip in the universal gesture of disapproval. “As your physical trainer, I must tell you that alcohol is bad for muscle recovery.”
I blew air out through my lips. “A little vitamin-b never hurt anyone.”
“You joke, but beer actually does have what are called B-vitamins. Niacin, riboflavin, and vitamins B6 and B12.”
I pumped my fist in the air. “Riboflavin is my favorite. I could chug a whole keg full of riboflavin.”
“But all joking aside, alcohol does a whole bunch of bad stuff.” Roberta’s face went serious. “Your body is in recovery mode after a game like today—repairing muscle, replenishing glycogen, stuff like that. When you introduce alcohol to that system, the body drops everything to filter out the alcohol through the liver.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “I like you a lot more when you’re just a pretty face.”
She tossed her hair and batted her eyelashes dramatically. “Oh I’m so sorry, I don’t know what got into my pretty little head. Let’s change the subject to lipstick colors and the latest fall fashion trends.”
Her exaggerated high-pitched voice made me double over with laughter. “That impression is way too accurate. Are you sure you’re not in a sorority?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die. With an emphasis on die, because that would be better than being in an actual sorority.” She looked past me and her face brightened. “Danny!” she said, waving.
Danny came over and hugged her. “Didn’t think you were coming out.”
She conspicuously didn’t look in my direction. “I was pestered into it by a desperate, annoying, wide receiver.”
“I can’t possibly imagine who you’re talking about.”
I squinted at them until they finally laughed and acknowledged me. “Don’t mind Lance. He thinks his pestering texts are adorable.”
“Bro, I am adorable.”
“You guys looked awesome today,” Roberta told him. “Was something up with your IT band before practice? I saw Brett—” she said his name with a distasteful sneer, “—looking at it.”
Danny waved a hand. “Coach saw me doing your dynamic stretches, so I told him I was working out some tightness. Bad thing to say on the spot.”
“So you’re fine?” she asked.
“F-I-N-E fine, as Lance would say.”
I raised my hand and high-fived him.
“I’ve made my rounds and am going to head home,” Danny said. “I need some sleep.”
“See?” Roberta said to me. “Recovery. It’s just as important as lifting and nutrition.”
“I’ll have you know that I plan on sleeping until noon tomorrow,” I said with a grin. “That should be plenty of recovery.”
“Not if you crawl into bed at 6:00 a.m..”
Danny lingered a moment longer, as if trying to think of something else to say to Roberta. “Thanks again for your help. Meet you on Monday to go over nutrition?”
“Sure thing.”
“So,” I said casually. “What’s up with the two of you?”
18
Roberta
I was having a great time at the party with Lance until he brought up the one thing I was trying to avoid.
“What’s up with the two of you?” he asked casually. Too casually.
“What do you mean?”
“You know.” His dark eyebrows bounced up and down provocatively. “How are things going with Danny?”
“I’m surprised you guys haven’t talked about it.”
Lance shrugged. “Danny doesn’t brag about his sexual conquests, or talk openly about his relationships. He’s a reserved guy.”
“Unlike you.” I poked him in the chest. It was like nudging a boulder.
Lance scoffed. “I’m reserved as shit when I want to be. And you are avoiding the question, Babs.”
“Seriously with the Babs,” I laughed. “That’s a nickname for Barbara, not Roberta.”
“Oh yeah? Then why did my grandpa call my grandma Babs?”
“Maybe,” I replied simply, “because your grandma’s name is Barbara?”
He frowned to himself, like he was searching his memories and struggling to find a reason why I was wrong. I giggled at the idea of him not knowing his grandma’s real name.
Lance snapped out of it and shook his head. “Stop changing the subject! You and Danny. What’s the deal?”
I sighed. No use avoiding it. “Danny wants to keep things professional.”
Lance rocked back and forth on his heels, grimacing. “Ah, yeah. It’s tough during the season. We’ve got so little free time.”
“That’s part of it,” I explained, “but Danny was afraid us dating might taint my work credits.”
“Taint them how?” he demanded.
“I don’t know. Whoever is in charge of the work credit office might think it was a quid-pro-quo situation. Or that Danny only signed off on it because we were together. Or something.”
I expected Lance to agree that it was a tricky situation, but instead he slammed his empty beer cup down to the ground.
