Rough and Tumble

by Shae Connor

  “I guess that makes sense.” I put my hands on my hips and turn to look at the mess surrounding us. “And I guess we should deal with all this, too.”

  Darryn groans but reaches for one of the bags on his bed. “Might as well get it over with.”

  Two hours later, we’ve managed to get most of our stuff put away, and we’re headed to the dining hall. I’d been worried that things might be awkward between us, especially after the New Year’s kiss neither of us has brought up again, but we’ve slotted right back into being friends and roommates. When we get to the food line, Darryn teases me about my addiction to sweet tea, and I respond by threatening to take away his ketchup. We find a seat near the windows, and we’re settling in when Annie and Mo walk through the door.

  Mo nudges Annie, and they wave as they head to the line. I glance at Darryn. “Do you mind if Annie and Mo join us?”

  Darryn freezes for a split second, but then relaxes and shrugs his good shoulder. “Sure. I mean, I don’t really know Mo, but she seems nice.”

  “Yeah. I just…” I’m not sure how to approach the subject.

  Darryn saves me the trouble.

  “I appreciate that they tried to help,” he says, keeping his voice low. “I just don’t want to talk about all that right now.”

  I nod and give a tiny smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem. We can focus on whining about our classes instead.”

  Annie and Mo join us a few minutes later. “Hello, boys,” Mo says as she swings into a seat next to Darryn. “Are we ready to get back to the grind?”

  I exchange a glance with Annie, whose lifted eyebrow tells me she and Mo had an exchange much like the one Darryn and I just had. “Ready to start taking classes in my major,” I say. “I finally got into the kinesiology intro this semester.”

  “Oh, me too!” Mo grins. “Are you in the Monday-Wednesday-Friday session?”

  “Yep.” I lift my tea in a mock toast. “See you then, I guess!”

  Mo turns to Darryn. “How about you? Anything interesting?”

  Darryn shrugs. “Yeah, I have intro to nutrition. The incomplete in chemistry threw things off, though.”

  He freezes then, probably realizing he brought up the very subject he wanted to avoid, but Mo glides right over it like it’s no big deal. “Ugh, right? I guess it’s better than having to take the whole class over. Still probably made a mess of your schedule.”

  “Yeah.” Darryn relaxes minutely. “I might make it up over the summer. Or take something else to free up a spot for next fall.” He shrugs again. “We’ll get it worked out one way or another.”

  I move on to Annie. “How about you? Still taking way too many hours?”

  Annie rolls her eyes. “Eighteen hours is not ‘too many.’ Just because you wimp out and only take fifteen…”

  “The required course load,” I shoot back. “And with two hours of practice four days a week, there’s no time for more than that.”

  She knows all of that, of course. It’s standard sibling stuff.

  Mo giggles at us. “I’m in the same boat as Grant,” she tells Annie. “I’m on the court or in the gym two or three hours a day. Really cuts into the studying time, but the scholarship requires it.”

  Annie sighs. “I wish my scholarship would pay for my private room. I need to drum up some more business if I want to keep it next year.”

  “We’ll help you out,” Mo assures her. “There’s always someone with some kind of tech problem. Right, Grant?”

  “Right.” I shoot my best grin at Annie. “As long as I still get the twin discount.”

  Annie tosses a pea at me. “Watch it, or I’ll charge you double.”

  Darryn’s low chuckle draws my attention back to him. “Life keeps chugging along, doesn’t it?” He sounds philosophical, as if he’d put a lot of thought into what he’s saying. “No matter what happens. All the ups and downs. Life goes on.”

  I catch and hold his gaze, and he gives me a private smile. Yeah, life goes on. And I’m incredibly glad I’ve got Darryn here to share it with.

  …

  The whirlwind of the first days of classes catches up with us, and it’s not until Wednesday after practice that we get a chance to breathe. Coach let us out a little bit early, so Darryn and I are back in our room, the windows and door open to take advantage of a rare warm January day and air things out. Voices and music filter in through both openings, not loud enough to be distracting.

  We’re both reading, me sitting on my bed and Darryn at his desk, when there’s a knock from the doorway. I look over to see Pace grinning at us.

  “Hi, guys! Mind if I come in?”

  “Sure.” Darryn answers before me, though he sounds puzzled. And I realize he probably doesn’t know about Pace and me working out together back in the fall. Not that it became any big thing, but it’s something that I usually would’ve brought up.

  Pace drops into my empty desk chair. “How’re you doing? If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”

  Darryn gives him a small smile. “Getting there. Healing. Doing physical therapy.”

  “Great!” Pace’s smile never dims. “We should work out together sometime.”

  Darryn shoots me a questioning look. “I can’t really—”

  “You can still do legs stuff, right? Maybe some cardio? I can spot for you if you need me to.”

  Something about the eager look on his face tells me why he’s pushing on this. I think he just wants to help. To do something. And offering to spot for our workouts while Darryn recovers is something he can do.

  “Sure, that’d probably be great,” I tell him, glancing at Darryn to try to gauge his reaction. He still looks puzzled, but he lets me do the talking. “We’ll figure out what our schedules look like and let you know.”

  “Cool.” Pace bounces out of his seat. “Guess I better go get some work done. First quiz in geography tomorrow and I haven’t done the reading. Later!”

  He’s out the door and gone before either of us can answer, and all I can do is shake my head. Darryn takes one look at my face and cracks up.

  “Sorry,” he forces out. “You look like I feel. A little bit stunned, a little bit dizzy, and a whole lotta ‘what the hell just happened?’”

  I have to join in his laughter. “Par for the course with Pace, I guess.” I wave a hand toward the door. “He spotted for me a couple of times last semester when you were—when you couldn’t,” I amend quickly. “He’s kind of all over the place most of the time, but he’s pretty focused in the gym.” I shrug. “I don’t know that much about the baseball team, but I guess everybody who’s on a team has to keep up with training.”

  “Yeah.” Darryn frowns down at his wrist. “Guess I wouldn’t be much good at spotting now, either. If we work out together, all three of us, then I can do legs and cardio and you two can do the weight training part.”

  I lean forward to try to catch his eye. “Only if it’s okay with you,” I tell him. “If it bothers you, if it’s too much…”

  Darryn shakes his head and meets my gaze. “No, it’ll be fine. I need to start facing some of this stuff head-on, y’know? It’ll be a while before I’m back up to full strength, and I don’t want to stay away from everything until then. I’ll ease my way back in.”

  “That makes a lot of sense. But if you do need to leave, even in the middle of something, don’t worry about it. Okay? Just go when you need to.”

  Darryn nods once. “Will do.” He taps the open book on his desk. “Now get back to that reading, Clark.”

  I sketch a mock salute. “Yes, sir!”

  I’m rewarded with a genuine smile, one that sends my heart soaring in my chest, and I return it before going back to my homework, warmed all the way through by the return of the Darryn I…

  The Darryn I fell in love with.

  I have no idea what to do wi
th that realization. I never exactly got over Darryn—I just repressed my feelings while I tried to be his friend. I’m past that point now, but since that one tentative kiss on New Year’s, Darryn hasn’t shown any signs of wanting to move forward with that kind of a relationship.

  I have a choice in front of me—keep repressing and pining, or find some way to cross back over that line without moving too fast for Darryn.

  A balancing act harder than anything I’ve ever had to do in the gym.

  …

  I spend the next two weeks focusing on class, practice, and being Darryn’s friend. I don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for, so I find other ways to go the extra mile. I carry his new rolling backpack outside in the morning so he doesn’t have to wrestle it down the stairs. I make sure we always have a tube of the topical pain relief cream he uses when his shoulder aches. I do resist the urge to offer to rub it on for him, no matter how much I’d love to get my hands on him.

  He doesn’t say anything other than thanks. But the tiny smiles he sends my way completely destroy me.

  By the end of the month, we’ve pretty much settled in to our new routine. It’s a Thursday night and we’re playing our homework game, Darryn on his bed and me at my desk this time. Without our usual chatter, it’s more noticeable when Darryn’s phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s the third time his phone has rung since we got back from dinner, and he has yet to answer one.

  I keep reading, but I glance at him from the corner of my eye every few minutes. About five minutes after the last call, Darryn’s phone buzzes again, and once again he swipes the call away. It’s not enough for me to break the silence, but the way Darryn’s curled into himself, like he’s shrinking away from a threat. That does the trick.

  “Darryn.”

  He glances up but doesn’t meet my gaze. “You lose.”

  I set my book aside. “Yeah, I lose.” I lean forward, watching his face. “Who keeps calling?”

  He curls in even tighter. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  He might as well have told me. That reaction confirms exactly what I’m thinking.

  “Is it Rich?”

  He jerks his head up and then lets out a soft gasp and reaches for his bad shoulder—with his bad wrist, which doesn’t help matters.

  I wince in sympathy. “Sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “Not your fault. It just twinges sometimes.”

  “Kinda is.” I don’t pause long, though. Might as well plow right on through. “How long has he been calling?”

  Darryn lets out a dry laugh and slumps back against the wall. “Since the day after classes started back,” he admits.

  I blow out a breath. “He’s harassing you.”

  Darryn shrugs his good shoulder. “I’m not answering.”

  “But he keeps calling.” Just as the words leave my mouth, Darryn’s phone rings again, and he freezes. I jump up and cross to his side so I can see the screen. I bite back a laugh at the name displayed: RICH THE A-HOLE.

  Darryn swipes to reject the call. “It’s not a big deal, Grant.”

  I squat in front of Darryn and look up at him until he meets my gaze. “It’s bothering you,” I say, keeping my voice low and soft. “I know you’ll probably have to deal with him eventually, with whatever the school ends up doing. You shouldn’t have to even think about him otherwise.”

  I slide my hand over his phone, and Darryn slowly lets go. With a few quick clicks, I block Rich’s number. “There,” I say, handing the phone back. “Now at least your phone won’t ring when he calls.”

  Darryn takes the phone. “Thanks.”

  I step away and perch on the edge of my bed across from him. “You should report it, Darryn.”

  He shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Stop saying that! It’s not nothing!” I’m on my feet without realizing it, hands clenched into fists. “He’s harassing you, and someone has to make him stop.”

  Darryn sits frozen, and as my flare of anger ebbs, I realize he’s not just surprised at my outburst.

  He’s scared.

  Shit.

  I drop my hands to my sides. “Darryn, I’m—”

  Before I can muster an apology, Darryn’s up and grabbing his backpack. “I’m going to the library,” he tells me, voice shaking. “Don’t follow me.”

  I can’t do anything but watch him go.

  Shit, fuck, and damn.

  Why can’t I stop fucking things up?

  …

  Over the next few days, I try to let it go. I did apologize the second Darryn came back to the dorm, and he seemed to accept it, but I’ve been trying to avoid raising my voice or acting threatening in any kind of way. It leaves us tiptoeing around each other, but every day feels a little better.

  I also don’t see Darryn reject any calls, and though he’s quiet and withdrawn, I suppose that’s to be expected sometimes after what happened. His mind needs time to heal, same as his body.

  If only my own mind would stay on track. Instead, my focus is completely shot for the rest of the week. Coach Sato gets so fed up with me on Friday that he makes me run laps at the end of practice before he releases me. I try to settle my racing thoughts over the weekend, without much luck. Darryn’s gone from quiet to giving me the silent treatment, barely saying a thing and heading off to the library at the drop of a word. By Sunday night, the atmosphere in our room is so thick with words unsaid that it’s hard to breathe.

  Things come to a head at practice on Monday. I’m halfway through my warmup when the usual murmurs of conversation around the gym floor coalesce into a familiar name.

  “Darryn!” Heath is the first across the floor, and I turn my head in time to see him clasp the man himself in a half hug. Darryn smiles, more of a grimace than anything real. A few other teammates call out to him or wave, and Coach Sato walks over to greet him and speaks to him in a low voice.

  I go back to my stretches, breathing through the hollowed-out feeling in my chest. Okay. Darryn didn’t tell me he was coming back to practice today. He’s still working through stuff and needs space, which I’ve given. It doesn’t hurt. Not one bit.

  My inner lie detector laughs at me, and I slump to the mat, masking as a roll into another stretch. If I can’t even be honest with myself, how can I be honest with Darryn?

  We have got to get this mess worked out.

  With my mind otherwise occupied, practice is a joke. I can’t focus on anything, I nearly brain myself on the pommel horse when I miss a grip, and I lose it entirely on the high bar, only years of training in falling well and an ingrained sense of self-preservation saving me from a nasty fall. After that one, Coach Everson sends me to the showers early.

  “Get your head together, Clark,” he says. “And then see me in my office.”

  My stomach sinks through the floor. I don’t look around as I cross toward the locker room, and inside, I slump onto the bench and stare at the wall of metal doors in front of me.

  What the hell do I do now?

  “Great practice.”

  I jerk my head up to find Darryn leaning against the wall inside the door. The overhead light flickers, leaving his face in half shadow.

  “I’ve had worse.” Doubtful, but it gives me something to say as I reach into my locker for a towel.

  “I could’ve beaten you with my one good one arm.”

  A bitter laugh forces its way out of me. “Truth hurts.” Though not as much as my heart.

  “Grant.”

  Something in the tone of Darryn’s voice begs for me to look his way. I refuse to give in.

  “Coach wants to see me. I’ve gotta go.”

  It’s a lie. Coach won’t be in his office until practice ends, and Darryn knows it. He blows out a frustrated breath.

  “Well, if you decide you want to talk ab
out it—”

  I blow out air in frustration and try not to glare at him. Too much. “You avoided me all weekend. Don’t come in here acting like I’m the one who hasn’t wanted to ‘talk about it.’”

  This time, Darryn holds his ground. “Wanting to and knowing where to start are two very different things.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Look. I don’t want to fight with you. I want us to get past all this. That’s not going to happen until we can be honest with each other, Grant.”

  My residual anger drains out of me. He’s right. I know he’s right. “Okay. Well…where do we even start?”

  Tension visibly drains out of his body, and he shrugs his good shoulder. “We could always try at the beginning.”

  A whistle sounds outside the door, signaling the end of practice, and Darryn glances over his shoulder. “I have to stop by the admin building to drop off some paperwork,” he says. “I’m going back to the room after that. Can we talk then?”

  I catch and hold his gaze. “I’ll be there,” I promise.

  He smiles at me, small and private, then turns to head back out into the gym. I watch him go, hope blooming in my chest.

  Maybe we can figure this out after all.

  …

  When Coach Everson makes it to his office, I’m sitting on the floor outside his door, head tipped back against the cement-block wall. Coach unlocks the door and pushes it open.

  “C’mon, Clark. Up and at ’em.”

  I drag myself up and shuffle over to the nearest chair. Coach shuts the door, but instead of walking around to sit behind the desk, he leans against the edge of it, arms crossed over his chest. I’m afraid to look up and see the disappointment on his face.

  “Your focus has been way off the past couple of practices, Grant.” Understatement. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

  I keep my head lowered. “Not really.”

  Coach blows out a breath. “Look. I’ve been giving you a lot of leeway here. I know you’ve been dealing with some personal stuff. But if it’s going to keep interfering—”