by Maya Hughes
Inside, I got her straight to my room and handed her a t-shirt and some boxers before I sent her to shower.
Her quietness told me just how much she needed to get under the covers—for once she didn’t have a quip or a biting comment.
The stench of smoke hung heavy in my room, more noticeable now that we were away from the fire. I sniffed my shirt and jerked away from the burning smell. The last thing I wanted was for her to walk in here and be hit with the stink of char.
I took off my smoke-soaked clothes and grabbed my towel off the back of the door, wrapping it around my waist. I dumped the clothes outside my door and grabbed fresh ones.
The water in the bathroom shut off and the door opened, the hot, humid air billowing into the hallway.
She stumbled back in and spotted me, freezing mid-hair-drying.
Dammit, maybe I should’ve waited to take my clothes off until I’d gotten to the bathroom, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen me in just swim trunks before. At least I’d gotten the towel on and she hadn’t walked in on me totally naked like she had last summer after our water balloon battle.
“My clothes smelled like smoke too. I’m hopping in the shower.”
Seeing her in my clothes did something to me—something that couldn’t be contained by a towel. I clutched my sweats and t-shirt in front of my now-straining erection. My blood pounded in my veins and I didn’t know how I was supposed to spend the night lying beside her. Maybe I should take the couch. I rushed out the doorway, poking my head back in.
“Get into the bed. I’ll be back in a few.” I flicked off the light, blanketing the room in darkness aside from the glow from the hallway.
The shower was quick and efficient and I kept myself from relieving the pressure that had built up when I saw her in my clothes. I cranked it to cold until my cock deflated and I could end my freezing torture.
Climbing out, I picked up her clothes from the floor and dropped them outside my bedroom door. I’d wash them in the morning and see if a gallon of detergent got the smell out.
If it didn’t, I wasn’t opposed to her wearing more of my clothes until we got her some new ones or she got to go back to her place to see what could be salvaged.
There was no sound in my room. For a second, I thought she might’ve gone downstairs to get something to eat, but then I heard her soft, gentle breaths coming from my bed.
I hung my towel up and crossed the room.
Marisa was spread out like a starfish, taking up most of the bed.
Chuckling, I took her arm and put my hand on her waist, rolling her toward the wall. She grumbled, but let me move her, shifting her pillow and clutching it to her chest.
If I weren’t a glutton for punishment, I’d have taken a pillow and blanket and gone downstairs to the couch of torture, or I’d have nudged her even further toward the wall and put my back against hers. But I couldn’t help myself.
Sliding into the bed, I curled my body around hers, wrapping my arm around her. Just for tonight. Just because of how close I’d come to losing her. Just because I couldn’t help myself.
Her hair smelled like me. As much as I loved that, I’d have to pick up some of her shampoo and soap when I got a chance.
“Night, Marisa.” Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, matching my breaths to hers.
Tonight, I’d hold her in my arms.
Tomorrow, I’d figure out how to deal with being in love with the coach’s daughter.
2
Marisa
I rolled over, running my hands over the blankets. The sheets were soft and comfy, like flannel. This wasn’t my bed.
Shooting up, I looked around the room and it all came flooding back. Staying up late studying. Being woken by Liv. The choking smoke. The panic and fear. The blind crawl down the stairs and sucking in lungfuls of still-smoky air once we’d made it outside. And LJ.
Seeing him had calmed me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. He’d been the only person to call after the fire. No way was I calling my mom or Ron, and his number was one of the few I’d committed to memory.
Seeing him standing next to the ambulance, though, I’d almost burst into tears. I’d only managed to hold them back because I knew how much it would freak him out to see me cry. Once his arms were around me, the fear had ebbed away, and when I was in his bed, sleep had come quickly. I barely remembered the shower, only his body wash that smelled like evergreen and orange zest even through the smoky burn still lingering in my nose.
The blinds were drawn on the two windows in the room. I couldn’t even tell what time it was from the light peeking through the slats. Sometime between 7am and 4pm, since it was light out. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d slept through an entire day.
I had no idea where my phone was. I’d need to call work and let them know I wouldn’t be in. All those student tour groups at the Philadelphia Museum of Art would have to carry on without me for a little while. I was sure no one would miss my museum curator jokes.
LJ’s phone sat on the nightstand beside his bed, which was wedged into the corner of his room. His towel was hanging on the back of the partially-open door. The desk was neat and clear, and multicolored tabs stuck out of the neat stack of notebooks. Pens and highlighters were lined up beside them for easy access. His closet door was fully closed and there wasn’t a thing on the floor other than his shoes. His room had always been neater than mine.
It made all those sleeping-bag sleepovers in middle school less like going on a fungal expedition and more like seeing how a normal house functioned.
Now my excuse for my messy room was that my days were filled with cataloguing and organizing, so once I got home all bets were off. Technically, I didn’t need an excuse now. I didn’t have a room—at least not one I’d be returning to anytime soon. I’d rather sleep on the train than go back home and commute in for classes and my internship.
My mom had probably turned my room into a speakeasy since I’d been there last summer. That had been the visit where I vowed I’d never stay at home again—not that it had been much of a home after my dad left.
Thoughts of last night kept intruding. Was this what shock felt like? Last night, I’d been so confused on seeing LJ and finding Liv. Now, the realities trickled in until they became a flood.
Fire trucks had lined the street in front of my former apartment building. I could’ve died. A shiver shot through my body. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my back against the headboard. My throat closed up and I forced the air from my lungs.
The bedroom door opened and LJ walked in balancing a bowl on top of a cup in each hand. “You’re up.” He smiled and the tightness in my throat eased.
“I am.”
“I brought you breakfast.”
My heart triple stepped and I scooted to the edge of the bed. “You didn’t have to.”
“It’s just cereal. I microwaved your milk.” He shuddered, his lips curling in disgust.
“It’s freaking delicious.” I took the bowl balanced on top of my cup Jenga tower and set the bowl in my lap. And one sip from my glass of milk to settle my stomach.
He gagged and held out a spoon, while not directly looking at me.
“Do I even want to know where you were hiding that?” I eyed it warily, given his double-handed cereal delivery.
I slid it out of his grasp.
“You don’t trust me?” he said syrupy-sweet before grabbing his desk chair and wheeling it closer to the bed, resting his feet near my crossed legs. Taking his bowl, he made a puppy dog pouting face, bringing his spoon up to his mouth and adding in a trembling hand for the full effect.
I burst out laughing. “Are you sure you want to play football? You should swing by the drama department.” My perfectly soggy Apple Jacks melted in my mouth and flavored the milk for a bonus treat after all the green and orange loops were gone.
“Ye of little faith. These sweats do have pockets.”
“Oh those were spoons in your pocket. I thought yo
u were just happy to see me.”
He snorted in the same cute way he had since the sixth grade. “Hardly. You snore like you’re a tugboat in a harbor.”
“If I snore, which I don’t, it would be like Tinkerbell whispering sweet nothings to an angel.”
There were so many things to do, so many real-world necessities I had to deal with, and I didn’t want to do any of them.
“We should go to Kart-astrophe.” I set my bowl aside.
“Why?”
“Why not? It’s the weekend and it’s not like I have anywhere to be. Or any laundry to do—except yours because I know it’s piling up. Or any notes to study from.” I shrugged. Go-karting was the perfect way to get my mind off the mortal danger I’d run up against.
“How about we take care of a few things first, like emailing your dean and professors to let them know what happened? My old laptop is in my closet, I can boot it up and wipe it and you can use it.”
“I can use the computer labs.”
“This is not a negotiation. You’ll need a laptop, unless you want to be stuck in those computer labs during finals in a couple weeks. Did you call your mom already?”
“Why would I do that?”
“So she doesn’t worry.”
“She doesn’t know about the fire, and she won’t know.”
“What about your dad?”
I ducked his gaze, checking out the trees outside his window. “What about him?”
“He works here. You think he won’t find out about one of the biggest off-campus housing complexes burning to the ground?”
“Let’s set a timer and see.” I set my imaginary watch.
“Marisa…”
My eyes narrowed at the warning tone in his voice. “Fine, I’ll call him.”
He tossed my phone to me.
Grabbing it with one hand, I stared at the fully charged battery icon and my anger bubbled up. Ron didn’t deserve to get a call to reassure him I was okay. How many years of radio silence had I sat through after he’d left my mom—left me behind? How many missed birthdays? Christmases? And every other holiday in between?
“Later.” I dropped the phone beside me.
LJ shifted his gaze to the ceiling with his arms folded over his chest. The muscles bunched under his t-shirt and the gray sweatpants were unfair. Every other girl on campus got to ogle LJ, but not me. I was the best friend, the partner in crime, but never more than that.
After all this time, I should be used to it. Getting shot down senior year had been rough, but I’d learned to live within the boundaries of our relationship. It didn’t mean I didn’t sometimes want to break free from them.
In less than a year the draft would happen, and then he wouldn’t be my best friend and a member of the Fulton U football team who were treated like campus gods. He’d be a professional athlete, with all the perks that came with it.
Ron hadn’t even been a player or a pro—he’d stuck to college football and then dropped me and my mom for his chance at gridiron glory. I was his own flesh and blood. What were the chances I wouldn’t get left behind once LJ signed the dotted line and got the big fat check?
The only reason LJ went out of his way to drag me back to our friendship whenever I tried to put space between us was because I’d saved his dad’s life. But that magic would wear off eventually. The debt and the gratitude would get old, and he’d leave.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” LJ hopped onto the bed beside me, striking my same crossed-arm look and mirroring my expression.
The corner of my mouth quirked up as I tried to hold back a smile. None of that meant I shouldn’t enjoy my best friend while I still had him. Dropping my head to his shoulder, I sighed and stared at our legs next to one another. Mine were clad in his boxers with thick Christmas socks his mom had bought their whole family two years ago, and his in sweats, with his sock-covered feet resting near mine. If I wanted to screw with him, I could start playing footsie and see how he reacted. “Thinking about all the stuff I need to deal with today.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “This is going to suck. Thank god you talked me into buying renter’s insurance.”
His chest puffed out and I rolled my eyes, jabbing him in the ribs.
“Gloat much?”
He rubbed his side. “I didn’t say a word.”
My head popped up and I glared. “Body language. It was gloating. A skywriter would have been less obvious.”
“Can we jump off the LJ-is-a-pain-in-the-ass train for a minute? Let’s write down everything you need to get done. We’ll divvy up the list and knock it out.”
“How about I go back to bed and pretend I didn’t almost die in a fire last night?” I grabbed for the blankets to pull them back over my head. It was an overwhelming list and I hadn’t even catalogued in my head everything I’d lost. There were so many little things I wouldn’t realize were gone until I searched for them in a couple months or a year. The few things I’d picked up for my trip to Venice in six weeks. My freaking passport! Nope, I wasn’t going to get up today.
He yanked the blankets back. “Nope. Let’s go.” He grabbed me around the waist and plopped me down in the chair like it was nothing, like he’d done back in middle school before wrestling had gotten a lot more awkward.
Spinning the chair around, he pushed me into the desk in front of a notebook and a piece of paper.
He held out a pen. “Write.”
We spent the rest of the morning sending off emails to my deans and professors, creating a list of everything I could remember from my room, filling out the renter’s insurance paperwork, setting up LJ’s laptop for me to use, and going through his clothes to find at least a few things for me to wear. My emergency passport application appointment was in two days. I’d have to go back to Moorestown to get a copy of my birth certificate. Strangling myself with one of those velvet ropes they set out in front of art at the museum held more appeal.
By early afternoon, my brain was Swiss cheese.
“And your wallet. We’ll need to replace all your cards. The campus ID card will be easy, but your driver’s license and credit card will take some time.” He’d bribed me with the promise of lemonade, which was the only thing that could have gotten me out of the bedroom.
I dropped my head to the kitchen table, banging it against the wood a few times. “Enough. Enough for today. I can’t take anymore.” Tilting my head to the side I peered up at him.
His face softened and he slid the papers he’d been flipping through back into the folder he’d scrounged up to keep everything in one place. “How about we get some ice cream?”
My head perked up. “Ice cream?”
“My treat.”
“It would have to be, since the fourteen bucks I had are now burnt to a crisp.”
We walked to T-Sweets, one of the busiest spots off campus with killer sundaes, hand-dipped ice cream, and, for people with no taste, soft serve. I got more than a few curious looks.
Usually girls didn’t look like this in the mid-afternoon. This was more of an early-morning-walk-of-shame look, if the guy was nice enough to let you borrow some clothes.
LJ’s black sweats were rolled at the ankles, even though he never felt that much taller than me. We were almost the same height, but somehow the laws of men’s sweatpants didn’t apply to women, and there was rolling involved.
His Batman t-shirt wasn’t as baggy as I’d have liked. Being a double D did wonders for filling out a guy’s XL t-shirt, not that anyone would be able to see it, since I didn’t exactly have a bra. I kept his hoodie zipped up high and walked with my arms propping up the girls—I looked like I was smuggling two puppies under the sweatshirt.
At least it was cool out, still not in full-on spring mode, so that part of how I was dressed didn’t get me too many glances. The real issue was the oversized guys’ clothes and flip flops that kept shooting two steps ahead of me every couple of blocks.
“Why are your feet so big?” I grumbled, chasing after waywa
rd foam and plastic.
“Pot, meet kettle. You’ve got some boats there too.”
We made it to T-Sweets and found the usual line sticking out the front door. The five tables inside were taken. The crowd’s eyes lit up when they spotted LJ.
I smiled as he ducked his head.
The attention always made the tips of his ears go red. Every step closer, more questions spilled out from people around us.
“LJ, where do you think you’ll play after next year?”
“Ready for another championship?”
He put on his press-conference smile that hid his internal screams for escape, and replied like he had the answers written on the backs of his eyelids.
“Are you guys worried about this season with so many seniors leaving?”
I shoved my hand into his back pocket and yanked out his wallet. “I’ll order for us.”
“How do you know what I want?”
Waving the wallet, I joined the line, abandoning him to his adoring fans. It was always a chocolate and vanilla swirl with rainbow and chocolate jimmies. Always.
He’d stand and stare at the menu, waiting for the line to move, and then he’d get to the counter and order the same thing every time.
The line moved quickly and I glanced out the window. In jeans slung low on his hips and a t-shirt that highlighted every sinewy muscle, he held court amongst the picnic tables in front of the shop.
He hated the attention. It made him want to go full turtle and crawl inside his shell.
I loved it. I loved watching him get the attention he deserved after the amount of work he put in on the field. I loved how he got so nervous in front of everyone, even though when we walked back with our ice cream, he’d remember every question they’d asked and how great it felt to sign an autograph or two.
He felt like he didn’t belong in the limelight, but he did. He was the best person I knew. Too bad he didn’t feel even half of what I felt for him.
