Diesel: A Sports Romance

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  “Why would you want me to enter the draft?”

  “It makes sense for you to capitalize on your popularity while you’re hot and while you’re healthy.”

  These aren’t her words.

  This isn’t her.

  But I’m not going to get the answers I want this way. I need her under me, and I need inside of her, and then she’ll tell me everything I need to know.

  “Finish your work and then come over. No matter what time. We’ll talk about it then.”

  “Okay.”

  It’s not until morning that I realize that I’ve been blown off again. I fell asleep to the Sci-Fi Channel and Olivia never showed up. She’s pulling away from me, and I don’t know why, but I’m not going down without a fight.

  I’m about to pull out the big guns.

  24

  Olivia

  I’ve been tired and nauseous for days.

  Even though I’m on the pill now, there was a small pocket of time that Mason and I were having unprotected sex. I was so frightened that I confided in Kira.

  She bought me a pregnancy test and stood right outside of the bathroom door as I peed on the stick. I’ve never prayed so hard in my life for God to forgive my stupidity. The last thing I need is Mason’s family feeling like I’ve trapped him into being a father.

  There was only one line.

  A negative result.

  My symptoms must be stress related.

  My head has been spinning ever since the conversation I had with Quincy in Alabama. It’s like he laid a heavy weight of information on my chest that is bound to me. Obviously, I didn’t tell Mason what he said. There would be nothing to gain from driving a wedge between him and his uncle. In fact, Mason doesn’t even know that Quincy was at the game or at least that I saw him there. He never mentioned it to me which means Quincy never said anything to him. I guess it’s just as well, there’s nothing I can do to change what has been done.

  Mason has made decisions which have affected his entire life based on our relationship. While I am shocked and touched that he would make those considerations for me, the reality is that he is the one constantly pulling the short end of the stick. Essentially, shortchanging himself. And that is the heaviest burden for me to bear. I am the rusty anchor that is keeping this beautiful boy stuck in one place.

  My stomach does a nervous somersault when I see that Mason is calling me, not because I don’t want to talk to him, but because I miss him so much and I’m running out of ways to dodge him on this small campus.

  “Hey, babe.”

  “Hey.”

  “You sound a little green around the gills. Are you still not feeling well? Should I bring over some ginger ale and saltines?”

  “Don’t bother. I’m feeling better.”

  “Did you ever end up going to the campus doctor?”

  “Um, yes.” I lie. “I’m perfectly fine. It was probably just a bug.”

  “Good, because I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  Uh-oh.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s date night.”

  “I didn’t realize we had one of those.”

  “We do now and it starts tonight. Between your schedule and mine, we haven’t been able to hang like we used to, so I’ve planned the perfect night out.”

  “Mason, I don’t think—”

  “I won’t take no for an answer, JG. If you’ve got homework, I’ll help you with it later. Be ready by six.”

  “Don’t you do the midnight run with the team tonight?”

  “I think I’ve earned a night off don’t you?”

  “But you really like the midnight run.”

  “I like a lot of things, but I like you more.”

  “You’re too much.”

  “You should know that better than anyone.”

  The problem is, I do.

  “Six o’clock, babe, and dress sexy for me.”

  He’s relentless. There will be no talking him out of this date night. I’m going to have to pull myself together and go.

  “I’ll be ready.”

  I’m not really sure how a plain Jersey girl like me got so lucky. I’ve snagged myself a boyfriend who is gorgeous, funny, smart, is going to take our team to the championship and finds the time to plan dates for us.

  Mason arrives at my dorm dressed in a pair of new jeans, a soft brown turtleneck, and dark tan boots. I can’t help but be excited to see him, especially when he looks like this, so I hug him harder than usual.

  “Now this is the reaction I was looking for,” he says while nuzzling the crook of my neck.

  “You smell good,” I tell him.

  “You should like how I smell. You bought me the body wash three years in a row for Christmas.”

  He moves me away from him to take a look at my outfit.

  “And you wore my favorite jeans. Your ass looks amazing in those, babe. Thank you.”

  I chuckle.

  “You have a one-track mind.”

  “You’re right. It’s always on you. Now let’s go,” he says after checking the time on his phone. “We’re sticking to a strict schedule tonight.”

  We sit in the back of a cab on our way to who knows where. Mason wants to keep everything a secret like he’s carrying out some sort of clandestine mission. I don’t mind, it’s kind of fun. We soon arrive in front of a place called The Light Factory. I’ve heard of it before but have never been inside. It’s a downtown event space that apparently has a line of people shivering outside of it.

  “We’re here!”

  Mason grabs my hand excitedly as we walk by the line and to the front where the Will Call desk is.

  “Two tickets for Bridgewater.”

  “ID please.”

  It’s obvious that we’re here for a concert, but I can’t tell who we’re seeing. This space is unique. There are no posters hanging up, no flyers scattered around, just lights. Lot and lots of lights.

  “You want anything to eat, JG?”

  “I want to know who we’re seeing.”

  “Okay.” He chuckles. “Let’s find our seats then.”

  As soon as we step inside it all makes sense. I see two women sitting in vintage Thunder Road T-shirts and I scream.

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did,” he says proudly.

  “How did you get the tickets? You’re a broke college student.”

  “I called in a favor.”

  I look at our tickets to find our actual seats. They’re really good ones. I’m going to see Tommy, John, Ward, Bobby, and Max up front and in living color. If I was the girly type, I’d be crying right now.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t know they were in town, Jersey girl. You have to be the biggest fan these weirdos have.”

  “I guess it got past me.”

  Mason gives me a look of concern.

  “Don’t let the pressure of school distract you from everything else that matters, babe.”

  It’s obvious he’s talking about us.

  “I won’t.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  He pulls me into his embrace.

  “Now what do you have to say to me.”

  “Thank you?”

  “That’s it?”

  “You’re the best boyfriend a girl could have?”

  “That’s without saying.”

  “I love you?”

  “You’re almost there.”

  I laugh to myself.

  “Refreshments are on me.”

  He smiles wide and plants a huge kiss on my lips.

  “That’s more like it. Let’s go get my hot dogs, popcorn, and two beers. I’m going to need ’em to get through ninety minutes of these guys.”

  I kiss Mason again and almost skip my way to the refreshment stand.

  25

  Mason

  Senior year

  Christmas in Bear Springs is a beloved holiday. The streets of the shopping areas are lined with Maple trees co
vered in white lights and Christmas carols are playing through strategically placed outdoor speakers. Store counters are covered with tinsel and Christmas tchotchkes, and people are especially friendly.

  Normally during Christmas break, I don’t get to spend much of it with Olivia or my family because I’m getting ready for some sort of football game. This year coach decided that since we’re on a championship run that we will pass on playing in Georgia’s Peach Blossom Bowl and stay focused on our mission. That means that all of my days are busy with practice, but my nights are my own.

  “You want to go to The Red Lion tonight?”

  My buddies Simon, Pete, and I have talked about hanging somewhere local and maybe seeing some of our friends from high school. It might be a little arrogant to say, but we’re kind of like celebrities to some of them. Hometown boys who may be National Champions in a matter of weeks.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  “Is Olivia coming?”

  “I don’t think so. She wanted to spend some time with her mom tonight. Help out decorating the house.”

  “I can’t believe you two are still together after all this time.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “What are y’all going to do when the draft comes?” Pete asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is she going to follow you wherever you end up?”

  Olivia and I haven’t talked about the draft. It’s been a sore subject for us since freshman year. She’s always said it’s because of my safety that she didn’t want me to go early, but I think it’s always been about the fact that we’d be apart. She’s just too up her own ass to realize it. She’d miss me. Plain and simple.

  “I don’t think that far ahead, man, but we’ll be together whatever happens.”

  “Good thing you dodged that bullet last year,” Simon says.

  “What bullet?”

  “The pregnancy thing.”

  My pulse accelerates at an alarming rate.

  “What pregnancy thing, Simon?”

  Pete averts his eyes from mine. Simon’s enlarge.

  “Maybe I—”

  “Don’t backpedal now. Spill it, you fuckwad.”

  “Damn, D, I don’t know if I should be the one telling you this.”

  “But you are.”

  “You know I was fucking Kira last year for a while.”

  “Yeah.”

  “She bought Jersey girl a pregnancy test last year. I didn’t ask her any more about it because she was so upset that she told me at all. She felt like she betrayed her friend. I assumed that if she was actually pregnant that she, you know, took care of it because I didn’t hear any more about it.”

  I’m going to be sick.

  This explains why she was nauseous for weeks. Why she was avoiding me. Why she wasn’t fucking me. Why everything was magically better after seeing the doctor.

  How could she do this?

  “I don’t know who she is anymore.”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “Not a fucking word.”

  “Maybe you should talk to her, D,” Pete says.

  “The time for talking was last year.”

  “I know but—”

  “I want to get drunk.”

  They both shake their heads in disapproval.

  “Okay then, if you bozos won’t do it, then I’ll drive.”

  I’m almost good and drunk after three beers and four shots of tequila when Olivia texts me.

  Olivia: Are you having fun?

  Me: Yep

  Olivia: Are you okay?

  Me: Yep

  Olivia: Are a lot of people there from school?

  Me: Yep

  Olivia: What’s up with these one-word answers. Am I freakin’ bothering you?!

  Me: Yep

  I order another round of shots when Ginger saunters her way over to me. She looks good in an over-the-top kind of way that she always did. Lots of makeup, lots of hair, and lots of cleavage. She could never hold a candle to Olivia’s natural beauty, which is why I never sealed the deal with her.

  “Hi there, superstar.”

  “Hi to you too.”

  “You’re looking fantastic as usual.”

  “You too. You want a drink?”

  Her smile brightens.

  “Sure, I’ll take a seven and seven.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s my mom’s drink, and I ended up liking it.”

  “Seven and seven for the lady, please.” She hops up on the stool beside me. “So where are you now?”

  “I’m at Duke.”

  “Nice.”

  “I’m in a five-year program though, so I won’t be graduating this year.”

  “What are you studying?”

  “Physical therapy.”

  “Sweet.”

  “Who knows,” she speaks seductively while rubbing her hands along one of my biceps. “Maybe I’ll work with athletes.”

  “Maybe you will, Ginger snap.”

  I throw back another shot.

  “What are you doing after this?” Ginger has never been shy and gets straight to the point. “You want to finally know firsthand why they call me that?”

  Oh shit, I giggle to myself, did she know about her nickname?

  “I, um—”

  I’m tempted but the next thing that pops into my head is Olivia’s face. As angry as I am, as hurt as I am, as heartbroken as I am if she did kill our baby I know that I love her. No matter what her level of betrayal is, I refuse to stoop lower.

  “I’m just going to hang back here with my boys.”

  “Aw, but you’re with Simon and Pete all of the time.”

  “You’re welcome to hang out with me at the bar, Ginger, but I’m not leaving.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll just hang.”

  Ginger and I end up reminiscing about some of the times we hung out in school and teachers that we both had. With every additional drink she gets more handsy, and I grow more tolerant of it, but I never cross the line.

  A popular slow song from high school comes on and a few couples take to the Lion’s small dance floor.

  “You wanna dance?” she asks.

  “I’m too drunk.”

  “You owe me a dance. You dumped me at the Harvest Festival, remember?”

  “I did do that didn’t I.”

  “You sure did. I was mortified.”

  “Guess I owe you a dance then.”

  When I stand up it’s like every drink I had tonight rushes to my head. I’m seeing doubles of everyone, but I’m still clear-headed enough to sway to a corny ballad. Ginger curls her arms around my waist, and I wrap mine around her neck, almost leaning a bit of my drunken weight onto her because I’m going to have to if I’m going to last this whole song.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” she says.

  We sway for a minute and I close my eyes as our movement and the slow tempo of the song lull me practically to sleep. When it’s over, my eyes pop back open and the floor almost drops from below my feet.

  Olivia is staring straight at me with a look that could kill.

  “You fucker.”

  “Olivia.”

  She runs straight for the door and I push Ginger to the side and try running after her, but I’m too sloshed. I see like three doors, and I pick the wrong one. Running straight into the wall and down to the floor like the loser that I am.

  26

  Olivia

  “Olivia, would you turn that crap off!”

  I have been playing the same Thunder Road song through my new Bluetooth speaker for the last hour. It’s a ballad that Max sang about hating the girl who broke his heart for the first time. I can relate. For the first time in my life, I cried over Mason Bridgewater last night.

  “I’m using my Christmas gift,” I yell back downstairs to her. My mom gifted me a Bluetooth speaker for Christmas that has amazing sound.

  “I can hear that, but could you change the song?”


  “No.”

  In fifteen minutes, my mom has seemed to have had enough and knocks on my door. I open it with an attitude and a tear-stained face. Where are my rights? If I want to listen to Thunder Road for the next three days, I should be able to.

  “What—”

  But it’s not my mother—it’s Mason.

  He looks tired, and hungover, and sad.

  “Can we talk?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I say.

  He doesn’t listen and pushes his way in, closing the door behind him.

  “My mother doesn’t like closed doors with boys in the room.”

  “She’s made an exception today, because you were killing her with Thunder Road on repeat.”

  “Say what you’ve come to say.”

  “What you saw last night … it wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “Really? Because it looked like you had your mitts all over Ginger.”

  “I was drunk, and it looked worse than it was. I promise you.”

  “I came out last night, because I knew something wasn’t right. Your texts were abrupt and rude and I had to see for myself why. You were too busy sniffing behind her skanky ass.”

  “Were you pregnant last year?”

  “What?”

  “I asked you if were you pregnant last year?”

  “No.”

  “Tell me the truth, Olivia!”

  “I am telling you the truth.”

  “Did you think you were pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you weren’t?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re being honest with me.”

  “You think I’m lying? You think I what … had an abortion?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve been acting strange for months. I just don’t know.”

  “Wow.”

  “Well, if you thought you were pregnant then why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t want you to worry, and I was right not to tell you, because it was a false alarm.”

  “No, you were not fucking right. You should have told me, so we could have worried together. If you had been pregnant it would have been our responsibility not just yours.”