I nod. “No worries. I don’t feel much like talking anyway.”
George slaps me on the back. “Close call, bud. You still have life.”
We drive back to the house in George’s truck and end up in the kitchen. Majik’s not around, but she’s left a cake with my name on it and a saw drawn in the icing. For a prison break.
I laugh, big and genuine, and start to feel real again, alive, the familiarity of the place and my friends thawing me. Tristan laughs and George gets busy cutting a slice. We sit at the table with our cake and milk and I eye my two friends.
“Thank you for the bail. Both of you. You didn’t have to do it—”
“Majik suggested it would be a good idea,” George says, licking his fingers. “Tristan wanted to post bail right off, but he didn’t have enough money in his account and he refused to take it from the house funds—something about embezzlement. So I came up with the money.”
“Thanks man.” I give him a fist bump as if that’s enough, as if that covers how grateful I feel. He shrugs.
“Drop in the bucket. Take your time paying it back.”
Tristan snacks him in the head and he grins, not bothering to try and slap him back, not even complaining like he usually does.
“Jack won’t need to pay it back. Not unless he’s planning to skip town,” Tristan says, smiling with his milk moustache.
George says, “You’re damn lucky Reverend Church has a hard-on for you. I hear he’s the one who talked the trustees into holding off on expulsion until after your hearing.”
“I feel so lucky,” I say, standing, and realize I’m not joking. “On that note, I need to go study for finals.”
“Piece of cake for you, brainiac.” George says brainiac like it’s the worst swear word in the English language and the rest of the world’s languages too. I laugh.
“You need help with calc?” I know he does. He’s in Joni’s class and struggling.
“Maybe.”
Tristan smacks George’s head again and adds, “He might even pay for a little tutoring.”
George splutters, but agrees, swearing heavily like his true gutter-mouth self. Not that I have room to talk about gutter mouths. I would have helped him out for free, but Tristan is helping him reform his ways, teaching him to be generous and kind to others, so who am I to stand in his way?
“Why aren’t you nervous about the hearing?” Tristan says.
“I’m guilty,” I say, the feeling of freedom, the ability to breathe easily still new enough to feel cleansing and make up for a whole lot of trepidation about my future. “They’ll throw me in jail. Why bother fining a guy with no money?”
“Coach says Reverend Church is pushing your attorney to get community service or some such shit, because you confessed.”
I shrug. I’ll deal with it whatever it is. If there’s one thing life has taught me lately, it’s that I can deal with shit.
“No one but you thinks you’re going to jail, Jack. Maybe it’s time you stop punishing yourself,” Tristan says.
“A-plus. Go tell your theology professor I’m signing up to be sheep number one in your parish or ministry or wherever it is you end up taking charge of the minions of sinners.”
This time Tristan does something he’s never done before. He slaps me on the head. After a stunned beat, I burst out laughing. I can’t stop for a full minute. Tristan hides a small shadow of a smile, but I see it.
“You’re an asshole,” he says. Strong words.
“You should know,” I say back. I want to hug the guy, to tell him I love him and appreciate his friendship, but my feelings are still bottled up, the last secrets that I hold close to my vest. And I wonder if I’ll ever be able to let go.
“Go call Joni,” Tristan says, “Tell her you’re not a jailbird. For now.”
I wonder if I’ll ever deserve Joni.
With one last dark thought, the vestige of the shadow that can’t be erased by confessions or even penance, I don’t call Joni. But Joni calls me.
“I heard you’re being charged. It’s so unfair. I’m finishing some edits on my manuscript but then I can come over—”
“Don’t. Don’t come over Joni.”
“I know you’re down, but I—”
“You don’t get it. I’m …” The words are the hardest I’ve ever had to say, but I can’t let myself drag her down. Not because I’m a martyr, but because I truly don’t deserve her. I’ve made too many bad decisions. Saying I’m going to make good decisions now means nothing.
I need to live some life, make some good decisions, and prove that I deserve her. I’ll know when I’m ready. I hope I won’t have forfeited my chance by then.
“I’m breaking up with you. Ending it.” My breathing is so shallow I’m almost panting and I cover the phone with my hand and try to get control, taking in a lungful of air. She’s silent on the other end.
“What the? What are you talking about, Jack? You can’t end it. We have something special. We mean something to each other. This isn’t one of your shallow trophy-girl relationships where one girl can be replaced by another. We have—”
“Nothing, Joni. I ruined whatever we had. There’s nothing left. Nothing left in me. I’m sorry.” I choke on my words, wanting to take them all back, looking at the mattress on my floor, seeing us together, studying, holding each other, seeing her face as she comes under me. “I can’t do this.”
“Jack—”
Stabbing the phone viciously, I shut down the call, cutting her off. The sob that shudders through me makes me fall onto the mattress. I hold my head in my hands, touching my face, covering my eyes, trying not to fall to pieces.
The knock at the door penetrates. Tristan is outside. He rattles the knob and opens it. Fuck. I suck in a breath, and meet his eyes.
“What the fuck is going on with you? It sounded like an animal in its death throes in here.”
“It’s only pathetic Jack the loser losing again.”
“What are you talking about? You look worse than the time Notre Dame’s offensive line got to you.”
I laugh, a harsh bark of a sound, my new version of mirth, dark and destructive—if I allow it.
Good decisions.
Going against my instincts, I decide to tell Tristan what happened because he’s concerned and because keeping secrets never did me any good.
“I broke up with Joni.”
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
“I had to. I might end up going to jail. She doesn’t need—”
“She doesn’t care about that and you know it. Face it, you’re too chicken to have a relationship, too scared of making that commitment and that ultimate vulnerability.”
“You’re wrong.” He’s so wrong. “I’d drag her down. Look what she almost did—she tried to take the blame for my mistakes. I can’t let her go down with me because she would.”
Tristan shakes his head. I’m not sure if he gets it, but he stares at me.
“You’re determined to make yourself as miserable as possible, aren’t you?”
“I was born miserable,” I say. He laughs.
“I’m next door any time you need to talk, or even if you don’t want to talk. Don’t let yourself sink too low, Jack. I’m counting on rooting for you in the NFL next fall.”
He leaves me after a watchful stare. I don’t share with him that I don’t deserve his friendship because he wouldn’t believe me anyway.
Sitting at my desk, I open my economics text book and read. Decision two is to finish the semester with a 4.0.
Decision number three comes too soon. After two days of finals and constant babysitting by George and Tristan and the rest of the guys tiptoeing around me like I’m human TNT about to go off, I take charge of the dinner conversation. George and Tristan flank me like security guards of my soul.
“Who’s going to the Senior Christmas Ball Saturday night?”
Everyone talks at once. Sounds like they’re all going, with the exception of Ben Wea
ver, the hockey captain, even the guys who aren’t seniors. They’re taking girls who are seniors so they can be there.
“Who are you bringing?” George says. I stumble, and my heart squeezes with the need to have Joni be the one. But she can’t be and now I have to ask my friend a mean favor.
“I was hoping you’d let me bring Izzy. As a friend.”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I? She’s all yours, bro.” His smile is tight and I nod. I can’t bear the thought of starting over with someone else. Izzy is a known, a friend, and if George has any serious inclinations about her, maybe this will be the kick in his ass that he needs to get real.
“That’s sick,” Ben says. He’s in the middle of hockey season so he’s not troubled about missing the ball. “I can’t believe you’re letting him take Izzy after you’ve been dating her, after he’s already discarded her.”
“What are you talking about?” George says. “Izzy is cool. She’s only seeing me because Jack wasn’t available.” He forces a laugh. “Everyone knows that.”
“He’s still not available,” Ben says, cool and confident, staring me down as if he’s looking through my eyes down to the truth in my soul.
I nod. Truth is truth.
“Whatever, man. I’ll find another girl,” George says.
“Why don’t you take Joni?” Billy asks in between bites of French bread.
The table quiets. George stares at him then looks at me and for an instant, I think he’s going to ask me if he can take Joni and I’ll be forced to make a decision I’m not ready for. All I can think is that I’ll beat him senseless if he dares to ask.
“Nah.” He looks away and shrugs. I feel Tristan let out a breath of relief on my other side.
I miss Joni down to my core and I wonder how she’s doing studying for the calc final, wonder if she got an A or A+ on her novel for her creative writing class. But I can’t ask her, can’t risk even the smallest contact or my resolve will cave.
I’m not admitting to anyone that I miss her. Not even to Isabella when I invite her to be my date for the Senior Christmas Ball only two days before the event that marks the end of the semester. She agrees without hesitation and that should have been a red flag that she didn’t hear a word I said about going as friends.
Snow falls lightly as we enter Jorgenson Hall where the ball is in full swing. Besides seniors, faculty and staff including coaches will be here. It’s a chance to be on best behavior, a test of my resolve to keep my cool with a lot of eyes on me. There are cameras outside, flashes in the dark, but we don’t stop, though Izzy glances their way and waves.
How could I have forgotten how much she enjoys the spotlight? Naturally. She’s a drama major through to her core. She takes the lead after we check our coats and I follow her as she takes me by the hand to see her friends and to be seen. Tristan is here with his date and hands me a glass of something I know isn’t ice water, but I take it.
Looking around for Joni because I know she’s going to be here, I spot her with Dooley and a guy. At first, I don’t recognize him and I convince myself he must be Dooley’s date. Then I realize as they move closer that I know him. He’s Stone Peterson, the goalie from the hockey team, but he shouldn’t be here. The hockey team is playing away in Minnesota tomorrow night.
And he can’t be Dooley’s date because he’s not gay. I realize this too late as I watch him nuzzle Joni’s neck. That’s a sight I can’t stand. I’m totally fucking unprepared to see another guy touching her, being with her, taking my place.
Tristan holds me back. I tense and pull away from him, forgetting Isabella until she stumbles.
“What is your problem?” she says and then stops. She sees Joni, sees me staring at her. “Damn you, Jack.” I turn to her and see tears in her eyes, but I have no remorse, no feelings for her. My head and heart are too filled with the searing void left by Joni, newly scorched at seeing her with fucking Stone Peterson. I’m not fucked-up enough to walk away as Tristan grabs hold of my shoulder and presses.
“Fuck, that hurts.”
“Good. I was afraid you turned to stone.” Anger scrapes his voice. “Deal with Isabella. First.”
I nod, shame flooding me as her tears register, her sweetness. She doesn’t deserve this. I should have known she wouldn’t listen to me when I told her we were just friends. I take her hand and lead her to the dance floor and hold her close enough to talk, her curvy body not registering even a cinder of a spark. If I were to look up and let my eyes find Joni, I know my cock would light up. But I keep my head down.
“Izzy—”
“I thought you had real feelings for me when you asked me to come with you tonight,” she says. We’re on the dance floor and people are staring. They’re always staring.
“I told you we were just friends and I meant it.”
“No one takes a friend to the Senior Ball, Jack. I thought you were over Joni—broken up with her. Tell me right now if you still have feelings for her.”
“I can’t lie. I’ll always have feelings for Joni, but it doesn’t matter, because I can’t have her.”
“You’re such a fucking coward,” she says, a little too loudly, as she stops and backs away from me. I’m worried she’s going to slap me when I see the anger in her eyes. I haul her out back to a private alcove in the hallway because even though the university promised no entry for the press, I know those bastards can be sneaky.
“Where are you taking me? I’m not about to let you touch me—”
“Izzy, stop. You’re angry and I don’t blame you, but I do want to be friends. I can use all the friends I can get these days. I’ve fucked up my life. Big time.” Her face softens.
“Yes, you did, Jack. But the thing is, I still love you. I know who you are and I don’t care if you sold term papers. Who cares, right? I don’t even care if you’re poor because you’re so … everything else good. You’re tough and cool and smart and a really decent nice guy underneath the act you put out.” I’m surprised at her words. She laughs.
“Don’t look at me like I’m crazy. You want to know a secret? I always suspected you were poor. But I never said anything because you didn’t want anyone to know. Rich guys are a dime a dozen at this school and full of arrogance they didn’t earn. But you? You earned every ounce of confidence you ever had. And I love that about you.”
She stops and I know she’ waiting for me to say something and I try dig deep to feel, to figure out what’s inside me, whether I have anything for her, but I don’t. Nothing more than fondness for a friend, someone I know and like.
“Izzy, thank you. I …”
“Don’t say it. Don’t tell me you want to be my friend because I don’t want to start crying all over again. Let me go. Let me leave now.” She takes my face in her hands and gives me a kiss, a deep kiss that says she wishes for so much more than goodbye and then she turns and runs with her glittering gown lifted in her hands looking like a movie star in the making. Maybe she will be. I hope so.
Standing alone against the wall in the alcove, the music drifts into me. The song is John Legend’s “Conversations in the Dark,” the song Joni and I first danced to at the Homecoming dance. I drift back to the main ballroom, to the music, and I lean against a pillar, feeling cold and broken, watching the dancers, the regret breaking me into pieces.
When I see Joni my heart leaps, but I keep the rest of me still. She’s gorgeous in a long black dress slit up one leg with only a string of pearls and her lost friend’s bracelet for jewelry. She walks in my direction and I straighten up. Then I see Stone wrap an arm around her and looking at her with an unholy smirk. Everything in me hardens and I think I know what the Incredible Hulk feels like, rage expanding me into a monster.
I want to punch Stone’s smirk through the back of his face and make him chew on it.
Chapter 24
Joni
Jack walks straight for us on the dance floor just as we get started and, cuts in, pulling Stone aside by the shoulder.
“I’ll take over from here,” he says. I’m horrified and sickeningly hopeful at the same time.
“The hell you will—”
“Fuck off, Stone.” Jack is close, towering over the hockey player.
“Go fuck yourself—"
Jack doesn’t waste any more words arguing with Stone, shoving him. Stone shoves back. I slap my hand over my mouth in horror. My first thought is that Jack can’t afford to get into trouble for fighting. I don’t get past my concern for Jack to give a thought about Stone. Tristan and George appear from nowhere and take hold of Jack and Stone, pulling them apart before the altercation goes any further. People gather, not sure what happened it was so fast. Coach Radz comes running. He tells Stone to take a walk with Tristan and George and they drag him away to clean him up.
Coach Radz glares at both of us, points a finger at Jack’s chest, and says in a low voice, “Watch your fucking step. A lot of people are putting their asses on the line for you. Don’t blow it.” He nods, then glares at the people around us, forcing them to turn away, to continue dancing. The music had stopped and it starts again.
Jack’s face is a storm of self-disgust, but my rage and disgust for him in this moment is bigger, eclipsing the pain out of necessity, because it sustains me, keeps me from collapsing.
“You have no right.” I push him away, but the solid feel of him is a trap and the last thing I want to do is leave, even knowing that every second in his company is a step closer to falling apart at his feet, at losing all the ground I’ve gained, all the emptiness I’ve been trying to fill with the less important things in my life. Even my writing seems like a puddle compared to the ocean of Jack and his sea-green eyes.
“Stone has no right.”
“I can’t believe you. Are you insane? You broke up with me, Jack. You …” I almost admit that he broke my heart, but I bite down viciously on my lip aware of the stilling and staring of the crowd around us. He moves in then.
Big Man on Campus: an Enemies to Lovers College Romance (Big Men on Campus Book 1) Page 30
