by Cathryn Fox
Oh, how I wish.
“You okay?” he asks, from the hard plastic seat beside me as I wait for my doctor’s appointment.
I shift uncomfortably, shake off my musings and nod. “Yeah, just thinking.”
He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. We’re friends now, and that’s what friends do, right? They give reassuring squeezes, that shouldn’t be tugging me deep in my core. I shouldn’t be feeling anything other than warm friendship. I guess the needy spot between my legs didn’t get the memo.
“I know you’re worried about running again.” His eyes hold a measure of hope and comfort as they move over my face. “It will happen. I’ll help any way I can.”
I nod and glance at our joined hands as he continues to hold mine. “It’s not as important now, thanks to your help.”
“I was responsible, which is why you’re staying with me until you heal completely,” he says, quietly, solemnly, and it’s yet another reminder that I’m at his place, not because he wants me, but because he feels responsible for me. I know a way he can pay off that debt.
Don’t go there again, Maize.
“Besides, you can’t go home. Not with the flooding.”
I sigh. “True.”
He nudges me, and turning playful, he says. “It’s not so bad, is it?”
“It’s been tolerable,” I say with a sarcastic twist of my lips. “Except for last weekend, and the partying.”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that. My buddy has a place off campus. We can stay there if you want.”
I give a fast shake of my head and my ponytail bounces. “No, I’m not putting anyone else out,” I say, lowering my voice as someone takes a seat beside me. “I’ll deal with the noise.”
He gives my hair a playful tug. “I don’t mind putting out.” My gaze flies to his. Was that sexual, or is that just my wishful thinking?
I bite the inside of my cheek to pull myself together and redirect the conversation, but I have to say, these last couple of weeks, being with him has been easy, our conversations natural—when I can stop thinking about sex for one second. I almost think he enjoys my company as much as I enjoy his. “I still can’t believe you paid the landlord a visit.”
“I told you I would, and I did. I keep my word.”
I nod, secretly liking that about him. He’s been honest about everything so far—even the part of fucking and not having girlfriends—and he’s a guy who stands behind his word. “I guess I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“I dropped my Dad’s name, Maize.” He grins at me. “It goes a long way.”
“Someday I’d love to be on the supreme court,” I tell him with a sigh, and I’m not ruling it out. “ I need to get myself into Harvard. I want to be the next RBG.”
He laughs. “You could do it. You know my dad went to Harvard. He has connections.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Yeah, he knows the Dean of the law department quite well. He’s the guy with all the power and if he likes you, he can get you great internship opportunities. I met him a few times myself.”
Wow, it’s nice to have connections, but I’m not about to ask for an introduction. None of that feels right to me. “Maybe you should have thought about law, then.”
“Nah, it was never for me, much to my father’s disappointment.”
“He can’t be disappointed that you’re a football star, Christian.”
“You wouldn’t think,” he says with a smirk that holds a hint of remorse. I take it he doesn’t like disappointing his father.
“Wait until you make it in the NFL.”
He shrugs. “Maybe then he’ll come see a game.”
My heart stalls, and I don’t want to make too big a deal of it, but it upsets me that in all his years playing, his father never once went to see one of his games. That’s not right on so many levels. He’s not looking for pity. He’s telling me something very private, and probably something hard for him to say, so I stay silent, and give his hand a squeeze, saying everything I need to through touch, and from his smile, he clearly appreciates that.
“About the music and partying,” he says. “We won’t have to worry about it over the Thanksgiving weekend. After our Friday night game, most ballers go home, so the place is quiet.”
“Are you going home after the game?”
He shakes his head and I don’t miss the hint of sadness in his eyes. “No, that’s Mom’s big shopping weekend with her friends and Dad won’t be there, so there’s no point.”
“Oh.” I pause, unsure what to say. “I’ll be going home.” My throat tightens at the thoughts of him being here alone and Mom’s words ping in my head.
Will you be bringing anyone with you?
I open my mouth, not sure whether to ask. That’s crossing a boundary, and I’d be so embarrassed if he said no or laughed at me.
He nods, and looks across the room, but his thoughts suddenly seem a million miles away. “I guess I’ll do the usual and go skiing in Aspen.”
I’ve never been to Aspen. I’ve never even been skiing. “That’s sounds amazing, Christian.”
He gives a shrug, like he’s indifferent about it. “Why don’t you…come,” he says. “Come to think of it, the Dean of the law department spends time in Aspen. I’ve skied with his daughter many times over the years.”
I wince like I’d just been stabbed with a hot poker. Now where did that crazy burst of jealousy come from? I’ve seen Christian with many girls. Not since we’ve been living together or whatever it is we’re doing, but still.
“Wow, that is awesome. Maybe she’ll be there again.” I put on my best smile and hope he can’t see the ridiculous cracks in it. I have no right to be jealous, like no right at all.
He nudges me. “Too bad you couldn’t come. I could have introduced you to Dean Saunders.”
I laugh. “I’m injured, Christian, and I’ve never been on skis. One concussion this semester is enough.”
“You could be healed by then, or you could stay in the chalet and drink hot chocolate.”
“While that all sounds tempting, I have plans with my mother that I just can’t break.” I kept her from coming to see me a couple of weekends ago, and she’d be devastated if I didn’t come home for Thanksgiving, although she’d probably be all for me going to Aspen with a boy.
“I get it. Family is important.” He turns away, but not before I catch the little lost boy look on his face. My throat tightens, pretty sure I’m reading him wrong—seeing things that aren’t there. This is Christian Moore, star football player, every girl’s fantasy come to life. No way is he lonely. He can’t be, right?
His father doesn’t go to his games, Maize.
As I consider that, the receptionist calls my name, and I lift my head to find two deep blue eyes staring at me with great concern. “Want me to come in with you?” he offers.
“No, I’m a big girl, Christian,” I tease with a grin. “I can take care of myself.”
“Right, I know. I’ll be here waiting,” he tells me and my stupid heart squeezes tight at his sweetness. I like the way he takes care of me and dotes on me at every turn. I love the way he always wants to be there for me, when really he bought me and I’m supposed to be doing things for him, but no, he’s been cooking and cleaning and pampering me. I’m not used to it, and I wasn’t even sure I wanted it at first, but dammit, he’s proving to be so much more than a jock out for his own pleasure. Which really sucks, because when my apartment gets fixed, I’ll be leaving his place for good.
Unless…
Unless what, Maize? Unless you seduce him and trick him into keeping you for a little longer? I almost snort at the idea as I walk to the examination room. The receptionist puts my file on the counter, and my stomach knots because I’ve yet to pay my bill. I was hoping once I got the boot off, and I could move around a little better, I’d apply for jobs on campus to help pay the medical costs. Christian’s payment only covered tuition and room and board, and I still can’t be
lieve how this all turned out. The thing is though, when I become a successful lawyer, I plan to pay him back every cent. What happened was a freak accident, and while he was the one who threw the ball, an accident is an accident. The fault is not his, deep inside I know it, and I’m the one responsible for my own tuition.
“About payments,” I say and twist the strap on my purse. “I was hoping I could make installments.”
Her brow furrows like she has no idea what I’m talking about. Picking my file back up again, she flips through it. “Your bill has been paid, Maize. In full.”
I shake my head. “There must be some kind of mistake.”
She glances at the papers again, and shakes her head. “No, not a mistake.”
My mind races. Mom has no idea about the accident, so it’s not like she emptied her meager savings account and came to my rescue. Kaitlyn would have if she could have. She’s a scholarship student like me, without two cents to rub together. No, there is only one person who could have paid it, and I’m honestly not sure how I feel about that. I have no time to think about that though, not when the doctor is here to examine me.
He gives me a grandfatherly sympathetic smile. “How are you doing today, Maize?”
“I’m doing well, thank you. How are you?”
“Just fine,” he says. “How about you sit up here and let me have a look at your ankle.” As I walk to the examination table, he dims the lights, puts my X-rays up, and goes quiet as he looks them over.
“You’re healing quite nicely,” he says.
“Will I be able to run again?” I ask. Even though I’m off the team, I’d like to be able to run again someday just for exercise.
“I’m sure you will. But in time, maybe three to four months. Right now, we need to give you some strengthening exercises.” He turns the lights back on and I lay on the table as he removes my boot and feels around my ankle. “No swelling,” he says. “You’ve been taking very good care of yourself.”
I nod. I’ve had a very good caregiver. “Do I have to continue wearing the boot?”
“For at least a couple more weeks.”
“Do you think I’ll be better by Thanksgiving?”
“You should be pretty healed by then.”
“Able to go skiing?” I ask and shake my head. Now why on earth would I ask that? I have absolutely no plans to go with Christian. I miss my mother, and want to see her.
He laughs. “I’m afraid not.” He steps back and writes something in his file. “You don’t want to push it and have lifelong trouble. So, stay off it, and keep that boot on for another few weeks. We’ll set up another appointment.”
I nod, and while I hate the idea of wearing the boot longer, there is a part of me that is a little excited about it. As long as I have the boot, Christian won’t let me leave. Not that I can go back to my apartment. Not with the leaks and I’ll believe a new roof is going on when I see it.
After the doctor leaves, I put my boot back on and Christian stands when I enter the waiting room. He hurries over to me, and a little flutter goes through my body as he slides a hand around my back, and looks at me with questioning eyes.
“It’s healing nicely, and I should only have this thing on,” I lift my leg to show him the boot, “for a few more weeks.”
“That’s not so bad.” He leads me outside, helps me into his Jeep and I can’t seem to take my eyes off him as he circles the vehicle and climbs in. He checks his watch.
“You’re not going to be late, are you?” It’s Friday night, and there’s a home game he needs to get ready for, which is the only reason I’m not bringing up my bill. It will lead to an argument, especially when I’ll insist on paying him back. I don’t want him upset when he plays.
He reaches across and gives my hand a squeeze, and my sex muscles clench. Crawling into bed, with him on a cot beside me, has not left me with much privacy. Privacy to touch myself, while imagining it’s Christian’s hands on my body, on my breasts, and between my legs. Never in my life have I been so sexually frustrated.
“No, we’re good,” he says. “You going to stay in and study?”
I shrug. “I guess.” He’s not asked me to go to any games, and honestly, I’m not sure I want to hear all the girls screaming his name. He’s not been ‘fucking’ as far as I know. When he’s not at practice, games, classes or studying with me at the library, we’re in his room. Although he does disappear on Sundays for a couple of hours at a time, and never tell me where he’s going. I guess it’s none of my business. That doesn’t stop the curiosity though.
My phone pings and I fish it from my purse. He casts me a glance. “Kaitlyn,” I tell him.
I read her text, asking me how my appointment went, and I text her back and tell her. I stare at the phone until her response comes in, and I put my hand over my face to stifle a laugh. I wish she’d give it up and stop asking me if I’d gotten a look at Christian’s ‘cob’ yet. It’s funny when she says it, but it wasn’t so funny back in high school.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, just Kaitlyn being Kaitlyn.” I drop my phone even though she’s still texting, and let loose a sigh as I take in Christian’s profile. A few minutes later, he pulls up to the back of Wolf House, and I climb out. He carries me up the stairs, per usual, and after depositing me on his bed, he grabs his backpack.
He eyes me, as I stretch out, and I’m almost certain I heard a groan in his throat as he takes me in. “Pizza after the game?”
“You know you don’t have to come back here to keep me company. I know you guys like to celebrate at the Growler and I don’t want to keep you from your teammates and the fans.”
He hikes his backpack over his shoulder. “That’s assuming we win.”
“Are you going to win, Christian?”
He grins. “Fuck yeah, we’re going to win. See you later, Maize, I’ll bring pizza.”
“No Christian, I am not keeping you from the party and I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’ve been missing you.”
He opens his mouth, and for a second I think he’s going to protest, but he doesn’t. Instead he says, “Yeah, you’re right.”
He leaves, and I hate, HATE, the stupid disappointment settling in my gut. He should be with his teammates, the cheerleaders and his fans. I’m beginning to believe, despite what he says, I am putting him out. A goddamn burden, because he feels responsible for me. I should just pack up, and go back to my place, flood or not.
I glance around, and as I consider that, I get a text from Kaitlyn.
* * *
Meet me outside Wolf House. I’m here waiting for you.
* * *
I snort. She’s good at reading me, and maybe she’s thinking the same thing I am, despite her ‘cob’ comment earlier. Needing a breath of fresh air, I text back that I’ll be there in a second, or as fast as my boot will allow me—because I suddenly need to be out of Christian’s space. Maybe she’ll come back in with me to help me pack up.
The house is silent when I open the bedroom door. Later tonight though, after the party, whether the Falcons win or not, it will be rocking. I go down the back stairs, as it’s easier with my boot, and circle the building to find Kaitlyn standing there, scrolling on her phone.
“Hey.”
She turns, and makes a face. “Where did you come from?”
“Back entrance. That’s the way Christian always makes me come in and out.”
“Okay.” She frowns. “Not weird at all.”
I laugh. “It’s the boot. There are fewer stairs.” At least that’s what he says. A knot tightens in my stomach. Maybe it is weird, and maybe I’m overlooking the weirdness because I’m well, not seeing things clearly when I’m around Christian.
“That makes sense,” she says, and I feel a measure of relief. “Come on,” she says and tucks her arm in mine, dragging me along.
“Where are we going?”
“To the game, of course.” She says it like I should know.
&nb
sp; I dig my good heel in, but my heart takes that time to squeeze, a not so gentle reminder that Christian’s father doesn’t attend. “I don’t like football.”
“We’re still going. It’s your fourth year, and you haven’t been to a single game. You can’t graduate from Kingston with that black cloud hanging over your head.”
I laugh. “It’s not a black cloud.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But don’t you want to watch hot stuff play?”
I fold my arms, and lift my chin a notch. “No, I don’t.” Okay, well, maybe secretly I do, but he didn’t ask me to come. Will he be upset? It’s a big stadium, he’ll never know.
She winks at me like she knows something I don’t. “I bet he’ll like having you there.”
I give an unladylike snort as a car drives by on the street, the horns honking. Looks like everyone on campus is excited for the game—everyone but me, that is. “He won’t even know.” Wow, way to sound like a whiny baby. We’re nothing more than friends—and yeah, I want to jump him—but I have no claim on him, no reason to be upset that he didn’t ask me to come. Why would he? I told him I hated football. I hate myself for that now, because a good friend would go to support their friend whether they hated the game or not, right?
“If we scream loud enough, he’ll know we’re there.”
“I’ll leave that to the cheerleaders. Wait, why would you say he’ll like having me there?”
She pokes my forehead. “For a smart girl, you’re kind of dense.”
“I am no—”
“Maize, he’s totally into you. I’ve seen you two at the library. You’re too lost in your textbooks to notice the way he looks at you.”
Honestly, I’m too tenses when I’m around him to even concentrate on my textbooks. I read the same paragraph ten times last time we were at the library, which is so not good for my grades. “How does he look at me?”
“Like you’re the corn on the cob and he wants to eat you.”
