I envied that.
Up in my room, I didn’t bother unpacking. Instead, I lay on my bed and put on my headphones, and soon I was lost in one of my favorite rappers’ lyrics.
It wasn’t long before I felt tapping at my leg, causing me to sit up. My mother was in my room, a box in her hands.
“This got mixed in with the living room stuff,” she told me.
I took the box from her and looked inside. It was filled with my shirts, neatly folded with the care only a mother could provide.
She gazed around my room at all the boxes I had yet to unpack. “You gonna settle in and decorate?”
At our old house, my room had been sparsely decorated, but it’d had some touches of belonging. A thick block letter G, a gift from my mother, had hung on the door, and a few posters of boxers I admired had littered a wall or two.
Here, in our new home, I didn’t see myself going that far.
“Kind of feels like I traded one prison cell for another, so why bother?” I said.
Her tired eyes held mine. “Memo.”
She used to tell me I grew up too fast. Within a blur, it seemed, she went from tucking me in at night to bandaging my wounds from one of my fights—when I would let her.
Everything was different, but I was hopeful we could get it back.
I didn’t want to disappoint her any more than I already had. “I’m sorry.” Because I didn’t want her to go, and I was genuinely curious, I asked, “How’s Abuelo doin’?”
Her hand fell upon her chest as she released a sigh of relief at the mention of her father-in-law. “He’s doing much better. The doctors are hopeful he’ll have a full recovery, gracias a Dios.”
That lifted my spirits. His turn of good health engendered a sense of a new beginning, of possible and incredible things.
“Remember when I was a kid you used to let me help you make buñuelos?” A smile washed across my face at the memory of the fritters dusted with powdered sugar. The delicious treats reminded me of happiness. “Used to be my favorite dessert.”
For just a second, my mother was with me, smiling as well. Then ever so quickly her full lips went flat, and her gaze fell to the carpet. “And now I work, and so do you.”
Right, we were both busy, me with my community service and school, and her with her job at the dentist office doing HR.
My shoulders sagged and my head hung low, my pride evaporating.
Gently, my mother’s hand lifted my chin so that I was looking into her eyes again. “I love you, we love you, but you put us through so much. It’s going to take some time, mijo, for things to get back to the way they were.”
“I won’t let you down,” I promised.
Her bitter smile said a lot. We’d been down this road before. “Don’t, please.”
She caressed my cheek, the bitterness slipping out of her smile, before she turned and walked away.
I fell back on my bed, my gaze on my ceiling. My heart throbbed at my mother’s kindness, for those little breaks in her tough love where she’d be delicate with me.
Briefly, a dimpled smile came to mind, and I was back at the center. Regan hadn’t smiled again after our first encounter. I’d crossed paths with her a couple more times and hadn’t seen her light up, not even once. When the kids had come inside from their play, she’d been patient and helpful, tying shoes and fixing loose braids. She worked with gentle precision, but she didn’t smile.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I swore.
No. More. Girls.
Regan
I hated being a Trophy. It was a demeaning term the athletes had come up with for their significant others. Well, you didn’t exactly have to be a significant other to be a Trophy; friends with benefits could get the title, too.
The moment I got with Troy, my position was set. I was expected to attend all the games, and all the after-parties. Being a Trophy was highly desirable for some girls, but for me, it could be a hassle.
For one, I didn’t like being seen as an accessory. For two, I wasn’t that crazy about sports or all the celebrating around it. Watching the boys get drunk and rowdy wasn’t my idea of fun.
Still, I wanted to be a good girlfriend, so I sat in my bedroom with my best friend, preparing for the latest football party after yet another impressive win for Arlington High.
Malika Roy had been my best friend since our freshman year. She was everything that I wasn’t in the confidence department. It wasn’t that I had low self-esteem, it was just that Malika was beyond outgoing, almost enough to make me envious.
During our freshman orientation, Malika had approached me in the back of the auditorium and asked to sit with me. I was nervous and by myself; all my friends from middle school were going to a different high school. Malika had appeared like a beacon of hope, and that afternoon we’d barely paid attention to the principal and the teachers speaking. We shared candy, cheered being able to go from mesh book bags to solid at last, freaked out over the latest Tinashe video, and checked out all the cute boys in the room.
We’d been together ever since.
Tonight, while I’d chosen a simple floral-print top paired with denim jeans, Malika had gone for a crop top and miniskirt, proudly flaunting her flawless body.
I sat at my vanity, letting Malika curl my hair. Her cell phone kept going off as we talked about nothing too important.
“Who’s texting you?” I finally asked.
Malika answered her text with a shrug. “Nobody important, they just want to see if I’m going to the party.”
I felt like there was more going on. “You can tell me, if you want.”
Malika peeked at me before going back to my hair. “Calvin.”
Oh.
Sensing my surprise, Malika went on as if it were nothing. “We bumped into each other at the mall, and he’s been blowing up my phone ever since.”
Calvin Evanson was kind of, sort of, her ex. This past summer, he and Malika and had hooked up, her first time. He hadn’t acted romantic with her; it just kind of happened. A part of her hated him, and another still carried a torch for him.
I didn’t want her getting hurt again. I offered a smile as I touched Malika’s hand. “Is he bothering you? I can ask Troy...”
Malika’s dark brown face fell flat. “No thanks. I mean, he seems sincere, but it’s whatever really.”
She left it there and I didn’t push. I went back to skimming my timeline on my phone, liking pictures from the game.
“You think this’ll be a long night?” I wondered.
Malika chuckled. “Damn, Rey, you sound about ready to come back, and we ain’t even left yet.”
Tanner trotted into the room and jumped on my bed.
“Y’all spoil this dog,” Malika said, sitting on the bed and petting him.
“Of course we do, he’s family.”
Malika dug into her bag and procured a tiny jar that could only be her beloved banana baby food. “Gotta get a snack in before the party.”
She’d been eating banana-flavored baby food for as long as I could remember. Discovering she’d stowed a jar in her bag wasn’t surprising in the least. “You need help, you know that?”
Malika shrugged and unwrapped a plastic spoon, then unscrewed the lid. I had to admit, I was always curious why she liked it so much, but it was more fun teasing her than asking for a taste.
Time was getting short. “I’m going downstairs to wait on Troy,” I announced.
Malika rolled her eyes.
In a few short words: she hated Troy, and he wasn’t so fond of her either. Almost every time we were all together, they ended up arguing. She didn’t like the Troy Jordan Football God vibe he exuded, and he didn’t like her attitude. Having my boyfriend and best friend constantly fighting just added to the mountain of stress I carried on a daily basis.
Malika stoo
d and threw away her empty jar before leading the way down to our family room. As usual, Avery was on the couch playing his handheld and listening to the TV.
Malika sat beside him, laying her legs across his lap. Avery’s gaze trailed up her toned legs to her face. “Hey.”
Malika smiled confidently, aware he was checking her out. “Coming to celebrate?”
Avery shook his head. “Nah, not this time.”
“How are you ever going to meet a girl with your head in those video games?” she teased.
He blushed and fiddled with his handheld. “I don’t know.”
Feeling sorry for him, I stepped in. “’Lika, come on, leave him be.”
“I’m just teasin’ ya.” To be even more of a pest, Malika leaned over and planted a big, loud kiss on Avery’s cheek.
He furnished a dimpled smile. Along with being introverted, my younger brother was pretty bashful when it came to girls.
My dad came in, greeting Malika before turning to me. “I just got off the phone with Sherry, you oughta give her a call. She’s looking for an intern a couple days a week. I mean, you’ve still got a ways to go, but who better to help her out than you?”
My stomach dropped. In my head, I was already planning to put the idea off for a while. My dad and I had been talking about accounting ever since I got to high school—well, he’d been talking about it. I mostly just listened, hoping one day he’d think to ask me if I wanted to do accounting in the first place.
Speak up, Rey! I yelled at myself.
Standing a little taller, I glanced at my father, ready to come out with it.
But then he took his attention from the TV and focused on me, and the weight of his gaze caused mine to slip to the floor. He must’ve been an amazing cop, keeping criminals in line with just one look. The only person I’d never seen cave to him was my mother.
Just like always, I clamped my mouth shut.
I would tell them I didn’t want any part of accounting...as soon as I figured out what I did want. They wouldn’t let me drop the class without a plan, and boy, did I need a plan.
“What about you, Malika?” my father asked.
“I just started the Early Childhood Education & Care program, Mr. London. They help set you up with a job your senior year even.”
The doorbell rang, and I was quick to excuse myself to answer it.
Troy had arrived, saving me and Malika from my father’s intrusive lecturing. For that, I instantly hugged him. “Thank God you’re here.”
He gave me a kiss, smiling at the comment. “For real?”
“Yeah, my dad’s talking about me and accounting, again.”
Troy’s smile faltered. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
I went and gathered Malika, let my father talk to Troy about the game for just a minute, and then we were all out the door and on our way to the party.
Finally, some freedom.
* * *
You would’ve thought we won the Super Bowl with the way everyone was carrying on. Twenty minutes in, and I was ready to go home and let my father plan my future for me.
Pop Smoke blared throughout the house. With the song’s infectious beat, I was almost tempted to dance, but I felt too out of place.
“Rey! Rey!” Troy was calling my name, pulling me from the kitchen island with its offerings of pretzels, Cheez-Its, and potato chips.
I meandered through sweaty bodies to meet my boyfriend on the back patio.
Troy took me under his arm and planted a big kiss on my cheek, prompting an “aww” from the group of girls standing around us.
With me in place, Troy faced his audience and raised his other arm in the air, showing off his Solo cup of beer.
“I just gotta thank y’all for supporting me these last four years, man,” he began. Girls and guys alike hung on his every word. “This is my last season as a Panther, but it feels like only the beginning. Next year, we’re thinking OSU, shit, maybe even Duke University, the sky’s the limit, and I just want to let everybody know I wouldn’t be here without your continued support.”
People started clapping and I took that as my cue to join.
Troy regarded me next, a loving expression in his eye. “And I especially want to thank my biggest fan, my number one, my support system, Regan.”
This drew another round of “awws.”
I did as expected. I leaned up, offering my lips for Troy to kiss, ignoring the praise we were receiving.
Troy focused on his audience again. “Hell, let’s have a great season. I’m ready to win another title!”
Everyone raised their Solo cups and cheered him on, and I managed to slip out of his grasp and escape into the house.
Troy was Akron royalty. He’d found his niche, only my crown didn’t quite fit. Being a potential football wife wasn’t enough for me, but then that dreaded blank I came to whenever I tried to picture myself doing or being something else nearly made my mask slip.
Tonight wasn’t about me, but about Troy.
Inside the house, the party was going strong. Another song that inspired hips to shake was playing loudly, and kids were getting down and dancing. I recognized a few girls from English and trig, but I wasn’t in the mood to join in. Malika had disappeared, I noticed.
“Five-O! Five-O!” a crowd began chanting.
A look into the next room found Thomas Jordan—Tommy J as he preferred, aka Troy’s younger brother—dancing with two girls. He had his shirt unbuttoned, giving the whole room a peek at his muscled chest. Tommy J was in heaven.
He was a year younger than me, but though he was only a sophomore, Tommy already held major clout at Arlington High. Not from being Troy’s younger brother, but from his own massive talent on the field.
Tommy was nice and all, but he had an ego. He didn’t get that much playing time yet, since he was the backup to Troy, but he always kept a harem of girls on his arms. With his perfect dark brown skin, handsome smile, and growing reputation, he was a certified charmer. He was already doing too much.
Sometimes I wondered if Troy would be the same if we broke up.
My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. Fishing it out, I found a text from Malika.
Don’t be mad, but I ran into Calvin and he wanted to talk. Don’t wait for me
I could only hope she was being smart about this.
BE SAFE. Love you
An arm snaked around my waist and before I could push whoever it was away, lips brushed my neck and made their way to my ear. “Let’s go to my car, I wanna tell you something,” Troy whispered. His hand was already steering me out of the room before I could respond.
Whatever Troy wanted to talk about, it beat being in attendance at yet another football kickback. When he reached for my hand, I let him lead me toward the front door. Along the way, I watched and waited each time someone stopped him to compliment his game or dap him up.
“Heading out now, Five?” Tommy J caught us as we made it to the door. Around his neck hung a gold chain with a number 50 pendant resting against his glistening chest.
In a way, Troy was humble in comparison. Along with his chain, Tommy wore a gold watch and a thick gold ring on his right hand. Troy had told me the watch was an heirloom from their grandfather.
Troy gave him a sly grin and gestured to me. “You already know.”
I didn’t like what he was insinuating, but I said nothing as the two brothers bumped fists.
Troy led me to his Nissan Frontier. He helped me into the passenger seat, but not without managing to feel my butt just a little.
I let it go.
Inside, I sat up straight, trying to breathe calmly. As soon as Troy got in and closed his door, the space felt small.
“So,” I said, moving some hair out of my face. “What’s—”
Troy crossed the space between us and practi
cally shoved his tongue down my throat, taking my face roughly in his hands.
At first, it was awkward, and I told myself to relax, to just let go and kiss my boyfriend. But when his hand cupped my breast, giving a gentle squeeze, I froze.
“What gives, Rey?” Troy pulled back, wiping his mouth as he rested against the driver’s door. I didn’t miss the frustration on his face.
I couldn’t look at him, I felt so wrong and embarrassed.
This kept happening.
I wanted to like it, I wanted to be okay with him touching me all over, but I just kept freezing up. Feeling weird and squirmy.
Facing the window to hide my shame, I said, “Can you take me home? I don’t feel so good. I think I’m getting a migraine, I’m sorry.”
Troy snorted in the driver seat. “Fine.”
He put his keys in the ignition.
“A-are you okay to drive?” I made sure to ask before he risked more than just his potential scholarships.
“I only had one beer, Regan.”
Troy was responsible enough not to be a major drinker, and I had only seen him drink a beer, as he said, so I let it go.
Troy’s music played the whole ride to Briar Pointe. The tension between us was stifling, and I was all but ready to flee from the vehicle as soon as he pulled up in front of my house.
“Rey.” His tone stopped me, making me fear the worst.
I found the courage to look at him. “Yeah?”
He seemed tired, then shook his head. “If not now, then when?”
I had a right to not be into it, but even so, somehow my stance felt wrong. “I don’t know, Troy. I’m sorry.”
He released a sigh. “I’ll text you when I get home.”
“Okay.” Because I didn’t want to leave on a bad note, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
I could tell the smile he gave me was forced. “I love you, too.”
I couldn’t have walked to my front door any faster. When I reached it, I turned and waved to Troy, indicating I was safe, and watched as he drove away.
Tanner met me in the foyer, and because I wasn’t ready to go inside, I let him out and followed him down our driveway.
The Right Side of Reckless Page 4
