by Leanne Davis
“And having the greatest woman in the entire world can only help make it a more decent place to be.”
He stares at Dani with big, loving eyes while she’s talking to Tara. “There is that.”
My heart feels bittersweet, bursting with joy for my friend and a little bit jealous for myself. He found true love. The kind that changes everything and transforms you. The kind that makes a real difference in your life. The kind I’ve never experienced.
“You’ve found your true place. You belong with the Kincaids. It’s as obvious to them as it is to you. And as someone who loves and truly knows you, Wesley, you must hold tightly onto it. You belong somewhere finally. And best of all, they really want you here.”
“You could do the same.”
I shake my head. “This is your place, Wesley. I’m eager to receive any kindness. A break and reprieve, but it’s not quite the same for me. I don’t particularly like the country, and I miss being in a big city. I can’t imagine staying here except temporarily. And as nice as Tara is, I can’t begin to think of her as a mom. I have a mom, and I can’t let her image go yet, even though she’s never done me any favors.”
“Whatever you do next, Jacey, you have to find something better. Better than you’ve ever had before. You had no choices all these years. No options. You aren’t dependent on other people’s decisions any longer. The Kincaids can offer you a respite to sort out your options and make new choices. Take the opportunity, Jace. Discover what you want, and find new ways to achieve it.”
I punch him in the arm. Not exactly gently, but in a friendly way. He’s so big and tough, he doesn’t even flinch. “Listen to you. You should start writing inspirational calendars or journal prompts. Good Lord, Wesley.”
“Well, it’s been a huge revelation for me. I know you as well as you know me. So what I’ve learned applies to you, too. Our life experiences are too similar.”
I smile and rest my head on his shoulder. Dani sees us and smiles back sweetly. It is sincere. No jealousy or snarkiness in her glance. She gets our bond and friendship, and she believes in it and trusts us. Since I’ve never trusted another girl my age, I like it. A lot. I like Dani a lot.
“I know it is. What you found at the Kincaids’ gives you renewed hope that there’s more for both of us out there.”
He pats the top of my head. “There is. And now you can find it on your own, without some loser pawing you or abusing you. Right?” He gives me a stern look, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows.
“Right, Dad,” I kid as I lift an eyebrow just to annoy him.
“I’m serious, Jacey.”
“So am I. I get what you’re saying. All this good example stuff—we deserve it so we can find it, too.”
“Exactly.”
Dani comes over. I love how she doesn’t try to snatch Wesley from me as if she needs to claim her territory. Instead, she stands and faces us. “So, was this what you expected?”
“No. It’s crazy. Wyatt’s a rock star here.”
“He is. It makes you appreciate his modesty, doesn’t it?”
“It so does. I think if it were me, the attention would get to me. But I was amazed at what I saw on the field. And it was a little confusing.”
“A few more games, and you’ll start to catch on. Even I can follow it now, and I never actually learned the rules or listened to anyone explain the strategy.”
Wesley groans then steps behind Dani and wraps his arms around her in a bear hug that lifts her off her feet. “Wyatt’s a football star, and it was so wasted on you. I can’t believe you were his queen for two years and never ‘actually learned the rules.’ I’d have dumped your ass in a heartbeat.”
Dani laughs out loud. I love watching them discuss Wyatt without making it seem awkward or weird. “Well, he knew I wouldn’t kowtow to him. Besides, I was never his queen or his sidekick. And all this,” she waves a hand towards the stadium, “never meant a thing to me.”
“So. Wasted.” Wesley grumbles with a wicked grin, but I don’t miss the way he stares down at her. The stars in his eyes are unmistakable.
Groups of players begin trickling through the door until Wyatt comes out. He’s dressed in casual slacks with his shirt tucked in, groomed and neat. My heart pitter-pats in response to his stylish outfit and new look.
He makes the rounds again. We slowly gravitate towards the parking lot, and I stay beside Wesley and Dani, like the total mooch, waiting to see what happens. Wesley is shaking Wyatt’s hand. Wow. Things are changing. Wyatt wishes them goodnight and his parents get into the car along with Dani and Wesley. Wyatt turns to me with an easy look on his face before his gaze scrutinizes me.
“You wanted to stay, right?”
“Stay?”
“Remember? To see the campus? I mean, you could come back if you don’t want to stay now. You made it sound like you wanted to see the game and the campus, so I assumed—”
“I brought an overnight bag. I just… I’m not sure if I thought it through. Where will I sleep?”
“With me, of course.” He shifts his bag on his shoulder, gives me a cocky, sideways grin and turns before sauntering across the pavement. His family pulls out in their car, all waving goodbye to me, since they were obviously clued in to the plans. I stare after the swaggering athlete before I cautiously follow him.
He throws his bag of gear into the back of his truck and I open the passenger door, duck inside, and set my own backpack down. I’m not sure how to take his overnight invite. He seemed so casual about me staying with him, and his family looked on with silent approval as they waved to leave. I mean, a guy wouldn’t do that with a girl he was planning on banging that night… or would he? Then again, maybe they regularly applaud their big football stud for doing so. But no. No. Wyatt dated Dani. There’s no one less inclined to give that impression than Dani, so Wyatt wasn’t doing that. Not unless he cheated but I doubt that.
Do I want to have sex with Wyatt? In the past, it wouldn’t have bothered me. Not in the least. It was a way to spice up a boring Friday night for me. Especially after finding so little to do in general. I’m not used to being idle. Sex previously had no meaning for me. I started sleeping around when I was thirteen. It was a fast way to relieve my loneliness, to be honest. I liked being held and touched intimately. For a short time, I could lull myself into believing I was loved and cared for. Later on, I used it to gain the attention of guys or make them like me more or sometimes just to get material things from them. I got small favors and little things, like a free meal, or a movie, or a day out on the town. I just wanted something to do. When I was sixteen, I got busted for shoplifting. That was when they assigned me to Rachel, and she showed me how to view sex in a healthier light.
Rachel wasn’t judgmental of my past history. She didn’t slut-shame me or say it was inappropriate. She asked me two questions: did I want to have sex with this guy? And did I like it?
I had to wonder, did I like it?
I never stopped long enough to consider such a question. My history with meaningless sex began with my mother. When I was fourteen, she arranged for me to have sex with guys she selected. I think she got something in return. Drugs. Alcohol. Money. My promiscuity began like that. It was naturally a pretty cold transaction for me. I didn’t think too hard about it. I guessed it was wrong, but I didn’t know for sure. My mother never provided a lot of instruction as to what society accepted as right or wrong. She provided little to no instruction at all.
Rachel was firm when she told me it was wrong. She identified it as child pornography and prostitution. She wondered how I ever managed to get returned to my mother’s custody? Well, the incidents couldn’t be proven, and I never blabbed about it to anyone. When the case workers suspected crimes were being committed, while my mom was again using drugs or neglecting me, they popped me back into foster care. It was like a rotating door for me. The file they had on me was extensive. Mom came into my life and left it again from the earliest time I can remember. It w
as always due to her erratic abuse of drugs and alcohol. She was flaky, scattered, and prone to cruel men with pretty faces. She couldn’t resist a hot body despite the invariably abusive personality that came with it. She could be mean and vicious, too. She often forgot me, either at different places or by forgetting to come home. My mom was never a healthy influence for me. I had to learn that from Rachel. It was the hardest lesson I had to accept from her, but also the most profound.
So my attitude toward sex probably isn’t healthy or normal. I lack the confidence to know right from wrong if it even matters. As long as I’m a consenting adult and I want to, does it matter? Then again, I feel unsure as to what Wyatt is all about.
He slips into the driver’s seat and flashes a smile my way. “You want to go to a big or a small party? Fraternity or sorority? Lots of jocks or none?”
“So many choices? How do you know that many people?”
“Well, you saw the game, right?” He flashes a gleam of white teeth.
“Oh, yeah, you’re the top stud of all. So I guess that guarantees popularity.”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you stay with Dani when you could have been enjoying life as the big man on campus?”
“I thought I was in love with her. I wouldn’t have broken up with her for some cheap tail I could have simply because of the sport I play.”
“Oooh. And so modest, too. With that line, you could get into any girl’s pants, huh?”
He shrugs. “A few of them perhaps. But I’m newly single and free now. I guess we’ll see how that goes. Now what did you want to do?”
“Would you normally go out with your football friends?”
“My team? Yeah.”
“Then let’s do that.”
“If you’re sure you want to.” He hesitates and I almost reach over and pat his arm. No matter what life experiences he plans to show me, I doubt there’s anything immoral he could expose me to that I hadn’t already endured as a young teenager by my own mother. It’s awfully sweet he worries though, isn’t it? Or is he being condescending? Sometimes, I don’t know my own mind like he does, even though we’re the same age. I have to think about what is right or wrong, proper or shocking, decent or horrifying in boy-girl interactions. Hell, probably in all of my interactions.
Garbage in, garbage out! How could anything healthy come of that? Rachel’s favorite saying streams through my brain. She sought healthy alternatives in parental examples, positive emotions and relationships, and even the kind of food I ingested. She taught me all the things I’d never been exposed to before. She was familiar with my history, and I know she felt sorry for how I had to live when I met her. But despite what I lived through, she firmly told me I didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in it. I had to consciously make better choices and select the kind of people I wanted to be around. I also had to identify “healthy” alternatives and learn to abandon my toxic habits. It was my only shot at a decent life, one that didn’t follow in my mom’s footsteps. Statistics predicted I would become just like her: an addict with no chance for sustaining a healthy relationship, or raising a child, or even keeping a job.
Rachel’s work with me wasn’t completely done when I was discharged from the system. She didn’t offer to see me for free, being a professional after all. I was only one of dozens of kids she helped. She improved her patients’ lives without getting personally involved. She was my only real mentor, providing me with stability for the first time. I wanted her to be my friend… and my mom. But hey, that’s crossing the boundary. I learned all about those forbidden steps in therapy. But lonely me didn’t miss Rachel any less.
We drive until we arrive in a wealthy neighborhood, evident by the massive lawns and mature landscaping. “What is this?”
“Fraternity row. Tonight’s party is happening in there. Stay close, okay? It gets rowdy.”
“Did you ever bring Dani here?”
“An after-game frat party? No. Never. She’d never attend one anyway.”
“I realize that, but I’m not Dani. I seriously doubt what you call rowdy would even come close to my definition of rowdy.”
“Well, you probably got me there. You’ll consider this party more like watching a litter of cute puppies chasing their tails. But that’s all I got. So, let’s go to your first college party.”
We walk in, and a loud cheer erupts from the crowd as the people nearest the door realize Wyatt Kincaid has arrived. Flowing through the house like a human wave that sweeps over stadiums, they chant his number in chorus, and he smiles. He engages in several fist bumps, high fives and half hugs, while on and on, the praise continues from both sexes. Wyatt captivates all genders, period.
I try to stay close behind him, but it’s hard when the crowd incessantly funnels around him and pushes me out. Random people envelop him, trailing him like a clutch of baby ducklings. Entering the kitchen, I expect to find most of his team members in there. Up close, they are huge. Humongous. Ripped, beefy and tall. Yeah, wow, I have to admit I’m intimidated. That’s rare for me. I’ve partied with gang members, drug dealers, pimps and those were just with my mom.
This college football crowd cannot exactly shock me despite what Wyatt might think.
He turns and reaches back to take my arm. I glance at him sharply. It’s too loud with Wyatt! and Number Three! chants for us to talk. He flashes an encouraging smile and pulls me closer. I suppose it’s just so I don’t get lost.
At Wyatt’s appearance in the kitchen, the chanting gradually dies down. A descriptive, long conversation about the game involving a dozen guys quickly ensues. They eagerly rehash the whole thing. Every move. Every play. Every single thing about it. They even reenact live replays of Wyatt’s moves, and Wyatt does one himself.
He takes a white plastic cup of beer, but I notice he rarely sips from it.
I take one, too, and gulp most of mine down.
The game buzz lessens and becomes tolerable. In the lull, he pulls me nearer to him. “Hey, this is a friend from home. Jacey Walker, meet everyone.” As Wyatt introduces me, he tells me every single name of the partygoers. I will never remember them, of course, but I appreciate the effort.
I’m eyed by a few guys. I eye them back. Keeping my back and shoulders straight, with my breasts out, I can hold my own. So what if they’re a bunch of college boys? Ha. Sure. I’ve hung out with gangster men. There’s nothing even remotely scary here for me.
I’m handed another cup of beer, and I drink liberally from it. I relax as I start to talk to a few of the players. I admit knowing nothing of the game, batting my eyelashes and acting as clueless as I can. A dumb female who needs to have a big jock explain the rules to her. It doesn’t take long to do the trick before they all start eagerly explaining the game they so passionately love. It makes it easy for me to flirt, smile, and laugh. I don’t say much and reveal nothing about myself. I’m having a fabulous time. They don’t know I got strangled or that my mom pimped me out and sold me for drugs. They don’t know she never wanted me. Nope. No worries here. Just flirting and white-hot glances.
It all works for me even though it’s not that original. None of it. The crowd is laughing and smiling like everyone is happy and glad to be there. Underage drinking, vaping, pot and I’m sure, sex in the bedrooms upstairs before other drugs follow. People are flirting and pranking and doing nothing unusual, not for me. What did I think I’d see? College kids with tobacco pipes in their mouths, sitting in libraries and discussing the latest theories in science and math? I guess I didn’t expect them to act like ordinary teenagers, but yeah, they are, so they do.
The most surprising one for me is Wyatt. He’s part of the crowd and acts differently with his friends here at college than he does at home. Sure, he basks in his football fame. Holy crap. As the “it” man, boy, does he know it. Girls fawn all over him. He hugs them and drapes his arms around them and lets them hold him tightly. Yeah, he is a big flirt, and he even smiles differently than he does with me. Probably because d
uh, Dani filled that part of his life when we met. But ever since then, he hasn’t changed his treatment of me.
It makes me think he considers me his friend. Sure. That makes sense. And I’m happy with that realization. I don’t have a lot of guy friends besides Wesley. So it’s good… no, it’s great to have Wyatt for my friend. Wesley is a childhood companion who became so much more than just a friend. He’s my brother as surely as if we were the same flesh and blood.
Rachel warned me not to drink underage, especially in any type of situation where I could be taken advantage of. I shouldn’t use drugs or have promiscuous sex. Come on, she’s a good counselor, so she has to say those things. I know she doesn’t condone this type of behavior. Even I get that. But she did say several times, when I found myself in these situations, decide why I’m there and make sure it aligns with what I want in my life.
She told me to ask myself these questions: Are you doing it out of neediness? Are you seeking love or approval from your peers? Are you looking for love in all the wrong places to fill the hole of never having a normal home? Rachel forced me to look more closely at the things I did, something which I never considered before I met her. I do it all the time now.
I’m new to campus, surrounded by big football players, drinking and flirting, and yeah, it could easily go wrong. But then, I’m also under Wyatt’s care, and I doubt any of these guys would challenge him. Perhaps I’m safer than I’ve ever been. I can drink, flirt, and relax. Ever since Bobby, I haven’t been able to do any of that. Maybe tonight. Why not?
See? I thoroughly weighed it out. If Rachel were here, I could say I’m not doing this for the wrong reasons.
Whatever I end up doing is going to be for all the right ones. I want to cut loose and have some fun. I trust the guy I’m with to make sure I stay safe. So for the first time in a long time I can freely engage in a party for the fun of it, and not out of some negative impulse or terrible reaction to something else in my life. For once, fun is simply… fun.
