Oh, Henry

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  I feel the soft grass and cool mud beneath my fingertips, and the air fills with a ferocious calm as everyone prepares for the play. I feel the energy spike all around me while my thoughts melt away. Here on the field, there are no tests to cram for, no wars, no angry girlfriends or psycho parents. The only thing that matters is this field where we become one. One team. One goal. One team. One goal…

  Suddenly, I’m there. In the zone. And the rush feels like nirvana—a moment of peace and silence so fragile yet so vivid and alive that my entire body electrifies, like I’m touching God or plugged into some supernatural energy.

  Playing opposite us, I hear Hunter call the hike, and the moment of serenity shatters like a plate-glass window that’s met with a brick. Grunts and snarls fill the air as I charge at my teammate, Jon, who’s playing tight end and trying to create an opening for the running back so Hunter can pass. There is no doubt in my mind I can block Jon. I’m faster and stronger. No one gets around me. Not ever. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

  I plow into Jon, who goes flying back, landing with a thud on his ass. I keep going, rushing toward an opening right through the guards. Hunter is about to make his throw, and I barrel into his chest, knocking him clean into next Sunday.

  “Fucker!” Hunter barks from underneath me.

  I chuckle and roll off him.

  “Jesus, Henry. You nearly took my head off,” he says.

  “It’s a beautiful thing.” I hop to my feet and offer Hunter a hand.

  His blue eyes are crisp with anger as I yank him up, but the moment he’s on his feet, his expression turns into a glib smirk.

  “Looks like someone’s here to see you,” he says, looking over my shoulder.

  I turn, and there she is, sitting on the bleachers. I could spot her thick-framed hipster glasses and honey blonde hair from a mile away.

  Elle. Oh, man. Why’s she here?

  “Christ,” Hunter chuckles his words. “What is she wearing?”

  Her T-shirt has a huge picture of a grey-and-white cat with its head tilted to one side.

  “Yeah, that’s Mr. Nucleus.” I clear my throat. “He was hit by a car last year.”

  “She’s wearing a picture of her dead cat?”

  I nod. It’s one of Elle’s many eccentricities. She seems unable to accept that Mr. Nucleus is gone, like she’s not good at dealing with death or something. I once tried asking her about it, but she’d simply replied by telling me that death is just one more mystery of the universe she hopes to solve. “You can’t solve death, Elle. It’s not a math problem,” I had told her, but she’d just shrugged and changed subjects.

  Anyway, I think it’s kind of sweet, the way she loves her cat and doesn’t want to forget him. Still, “If you think the cat shirt is interesting, you should see her unicorn T-shirt collection. It’s magical,” I say dryly because it’s not. It’s fucking horrible. All glittery ’n shit.

  The coach blows the whistle to return us to formation, and I hustle. That had been a perfect play, and I don’t want to waste time getting back into my groove. My mind has suddenly snapped into place and everything feels right. I don’t even mind that Elle is here.

  “Let’s play, boys,” I say, and get into position.

  ELLE

  It’s Friday, the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break, and I’m not exactly sure why I’ve come to see Henry practice, considering that I told him we were through. Maybe part of me longs for a little stress relief, the reason I began seeing him initially. I had never had casual sex before him, but nothing in my life has plotted normal this past year, and now I’m nervous about going home for an entire week. The two-hour drive isn’t far, so I go home all the time to see my poor mother, who has a brain tumor and is in the process of evolving away from this world. At least, that’s the way I like to think of it. When it’s our time, we transform, but we never truly die.

  Matter can’t die.

  Of course, if my heart believed all that, I wouldn’t have to remind myself fifteen times a day that death is part of life or that my mother can’t leave this world seeing me a mess. Her final happiness is why I started college at the age of nineteen after swearing I’d never go. She’s why I’ve stuck with it and pretend things are normal. Pretending is also how I handle seeing her for a day or two before running back to campus, where I erect my mental fortress and make it all go away.

  Thanksgiving week, though… Ugh. My aunt and uncle from California will be there, as will my cousin. My older sister, Lana, who lives nearby, and my father will be there, too, of course. But I know this upcoming week, likely our last Thanksgiving with her, is going to feel more like a funeral, not a holiday. Because my family’s not like me. They’re not able to bury their emotions in a sea of logic. I’ll have to sit there and listen to the sadness in their voices and see the tears. Then I’ll have to watch my mother trying to stay strong for them when I know on the inside, nothing hurts her more than watching the people she loves suffer.

  How am I going to get through this?

  Crap. It’s no wonder I find myself longing for Henry. Mr. Fun. He’s also the hottest guy I’ve ever met. Tall and strong like a great oak, vivid green eyes, dirty blond hair, and a panty dropper of a smile. My roomie, Tassie, says he looks like a seriously built, young Brad Pitt. I just say the man is fine. Sigh…

  I watch Henry’s towering hulk of a frame mow down two guys on the field; one of them is Hunter. Hunter is tall and lean with dark hair and blue eyes. He’s cute, hotheaded, and has a serious heart-on for Tassie, who is currently not speaking to him. It’s a mess, really. Anyone can see that Hunter and Tass are madly in love and have been since they were little. They grew up next door to each other and somehow ended up at the same college.

  Anyway, Tass has become a good friend, which is why I feel bad for having lied to her. She has no clue I kept seeing Henry after she had her fallout with Hunter and their frat did the unthinkable. But there hasn’t been a good time to tell her until recently—she’s been too upset.

  Well, maybe it’s time to clear the air. And since I’m here, I can warn Henry. Yes, a great excuse for being here since I can’t tell Henry the real reason. I kinda miss him.

  I lean back and watch the cheerleading squad—all Gamma Nu sorority sisters—doing flips on the side of the field. I suddenly wonder which one of these incredibly beautiful women with perfect thighs, boobs, and legs is keeping Henry’s bed warm at night. He’s an animal in the sack, completely insatiable, and words cannot describe how much I miss the stress relief he brought to my life. No, he has no clue about my mom, and I have no intention of ever telling him. I need him and everything related to school to remain isolated from that part of my life.

  Practice wraps up with the blow of the coach’s whistle, and the sweaty, tired-looking team makes their way to the locker room. Everyone except Henry, who’s high-fiving a few ladies as he heads toward me and the bleachers.

  My heart rate increases, and little flutters erupt inside my knotted stomach. I don’t know what I want to say to him. Somehow, I doubt I’ll muster the courage to spit out, “I needed to see your smiling face.” Besides, it wouldn’t be fair. He’ll think it means something more than it does when I already know he’s not the guy for me.

  I get up and take the stairs to meet up with Henry on the side of the grassy field.

  “Hey,” I say with false bravado.

  He pops off his helmet and those stunning green eyes of his sparkle in the sunlight. He’s so full of life. I love that about him.

  “Hey, Elle.” His voice is deep, like a growling bear, and exactly what you’d expect from a guy who’s six-five and over twice my size.

  A flash of memories explodes inside my mind of Henry groaning in my ear, telling me how beautiful I am, and of him laughing with that gruff-sounding voice as he pins me down and tickles my neck with his stubbly chin. Henry loved making me laugh.

  Suddenly, I realize that moments have passed and we’re just standing there sta
ring at each other’s lips.

  I shake it off and clear my throat. “I, uh, just came by to say hi. How’s it going?”

  He flashes one of those dimply, scruffy-jaw smiles that make my panties instantly steam up. “Surprisingly well, actually.” He makes a little shrug with his wide shoulders, the padding underneath his black jersey making him look even bigger than he already is.

  “I’m happy to hear that,” I lie, secretly wanting him to be miserable without me.

  Stupid. You don’t want that. Get your head out of your rear orifice, Elle.

  He nods and stares like he’s waiting.

  “Oh. Yeah, I, uh…just wanted you to know that I’m going to come clean with Tass.”

  “About what?” he asks.

  “About you and me. I mean, I know it’s over, but I never told her the truth, and I think I should now that she seems to be turning the corner.”

  “What corner?” he asks.

  “Hunter. She’s finally starting to get over him—I think—and I really don’t like keeping secrets from her.”

  The atmosphere abruptly shifts between us, and his eyes harden on me, like he expected me to give him another reason for my visit.

  Oh, crap. I’ve made a huge selfish mistake by coming here. Whatever happened between us, we’re still not over it. Yet nothing’s changed. I’m wrong for him. He’s wrong for me.

  “Fine by me,” he says. His tone is sharp and accusatory. “I never told you to lie to her—that was all you. I just went along to make you happy. Clearly, that’s not possible.”

  The jab isn’t missed, but I need to steer clear of the “us” topic and get the hell out of here. Fast.

  “And I thank you for helping me protect her. She would’ve felt betrayed if she’d known I kept seeing you after Hunter slept with her for a bet.”

  It’s true, and the infamous bet is also a good reminder of why Henry is so, so, soooo wrong for me. As part of rush week, there’d been a stupid frat game involving stealing things from other Greeks, hazing, drinking, and nailing virgins. The pledges with the highest scores became the newest members of the Alpha Phi fraternity, which is the big football frat that Henry, and now Hunter, belong to. Lame.

  Henry shakes his head and drags his strong hand over the top of his sweaty blond mop. He’s the only man in the world whose perspiration comes out smelling like spring water infused with mint or something herbal. He always smells good.

  “You’re wrong,” he says. “Hunter didn’t fuck Tass for a bet. He’s into her. Period. And we both know that.”

  “Yeah, well, he might be into her, but he still participated in the bet, and you can’t argue that it looks bad.” Henry has three sisters—two older and one younger—so I know he gets what I’m saying.

  “It did look bad,” he admits, “which is why a bunch of us left the frat, despite knowing we’d piss off half the team.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  “Why?” I ask, hardly able to believe it.

  “I can’t speak for the other guys, but I’m twenty-two and a senior. Doing the same old shit from freshman year just didn’t make sense anymore.”

  Wow. My stomach does this little cramping thing that causes a chain reaction, ending in my rapidly beating heart. Henry’s leaving the Alphas takes our romantic equation one step closer to a positive integer. Sadly, however, the facts that football is his life, he doesn’t possess a sympathetic bone in his body, and he’s more narcissistic than an only child who’s a runway model keep our equation in the negative five thousands with regards to chances of succeeding as a couple. Still, Henry’s leaving the Alphas is huge.

  “When did this happen?” I ask.

  “A few weeks ago. Hunter, me, and two other guys got an apartment.”

  “Hunter, too?” I can’t wait to tell Tassie since I’m sure she was the catalyst and she’s never truly going to be happy until she and Hunter make up.

  “Hey, who can resist living with me? Plus, my family owns the building, so rent is cheap.”

  “Plus you get more privacy for your orgies.”

  “Exactly,” he says. “We’re having one tonight. Just us dudes and fifty women. Want to be number fifty-one?”

  I make a gag sound.

  “Elle, that was a joke. We haven’t even had one party.”

  “Yeah, right.” I let out pffft! That’s like saying he’s joined a circus but doesn’t plan to put on a red nose or make balloon animals. Or ride in a tiny car. Or make children laugh. Or scream, depending on their feelings about clowns.

  Don’t go there, Elle. Let go of your colorful past.

  Henry crosses his big, big arms over his big, big chest. “I’m serious. We’re a no-party, study-only bachelor pad. Why’s that so hard to believe?”

  “Because you live for that bullcrap.”

  His nostrils flare a little, and his normally plump lips go flat.

  “Fine. Whatever.” I hold up two palms in surrender. “I didn’t come here to talk about that, and if it’s true, then I’m happy for you. I think it’ll be good for you academically speaking, because God knows you could use some improvement.”

  “Elle,” his light brown brows pull together, “there’s nothing wrong with my academics.”

  I laugh. “You have a three point three GPA, Henry.”

  Wait. That came out sounding really bitchy, didn’t it?

  “Wow.” He shakes his head. “That was bitchy.”

  Okay. Mea culpa. Still, how dare he call me that!

  I feel my claws extend. “I can’t help it if I find your lack of ambition to be comical,” I say calmly. “Besides, I’m sure you’re used to bitches—since you date the cream of the crop.” I glance over at the cheerleaders, three of whom are watching us and snickering. I know they think I’m just fan-girling over him or trying to trade math tutoring for sex. They wouldn’t ever believe that a guy like him would voluntarily be with a super-nerd like me.

  Actually, come to think of it, maybe I don’t believe it either. Just like I don’t believe he could ever make me happy. There. You see, Elle. You made the right choice dumping him.

  “That wasn’t nice. Since when did you get so bitter?”

  “Must be the company,” I reply.

  He shakes his head and throws in a tsk-tsk for good measure. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

  His words instantly sting, which shocks me because I’m not new to insults. For example, my nickname in high school was “shark bait.” Yes, from the movie Nemo. I skipped a bunch of grades, which made me very small compared to my much older peer group. For demonstration purposes, I’ll disclose that I literally wore a training bra at my high school graduation. And it was too big. I really needed an over-the-shoulder pebble holder.

  Well, that was then and this is now. I’m almost twenty and all filled out. And I don’t need Henry’s approval.

  I lift my chin and meet Henry’s angry green eyes. “Well, I know exactly what I saw in you.” I reach for the bulge between his powerful thighs. He’s wearing an athletic supporter, so his footballs look even bigger than they are. But make no mistake, his sporting goods section is as big as a girl like me—who’s five two and weighs one hundred and twenty pounds—can tackle.

  I give his man gear a little squeeze, and his whole body freezes up, like he’s sure I’m going to rip off his manhood.

  “The truth is, Henry, I stopped seeing you because your goal post isn’t stiff enough to keep me entertained.”

  Unexpectedly, Henry cups my left breast. “I know exactly how you feel. There’s just not enough there to hold my interest. Guess I’ll have to find a girl with adult-sized pom-poms to inspire me.” The right side of his mouth curls into a cocky smile.

  “Ugh!” I pull my hand from his package and slap his paw from my boob. “You’re a pig.”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, I hope your little—” I glance at his bulge “—sense of humor keeps you warm at night when your brain i
s dead from all those concussions in two years.”

  “Don’t you worry, sweetheart,” he says, letting his Texan twang break loose and looking over his shoulder at a group of pom-pom-toting girls drooling over him, “stayin’ warm ain’t my problem.” He turns and struts his rock-hard ass toward the locker room, like he owns the fucking world.

  My innards sizzle with anger. “Dumb jock.”

  He lifts his middle finger without bothering to face me. “See ya, gorgeous.”

  He didn’t call me a stupid nerd, but his tone said it all.

  As I watch him disappear into the locker room, I can’t help feeling like the tiny part of me he’d brought back to life—the part that loved to laugh and play—has just died a sad, twitchy little death. If there’s anyone in the world I wanted to connect with more, it was him. But this reaffirms my earlier assumption. We don’t work and never will. I need a serious guy who’s my equal.

  Henry is a man-child. So hmph! Good riddance. Again.

  CHAPTER TWO

  HENRY

  “Evil, four-eyed troll…” I growl under my breath, grabbing my duffel bag from my locker.

  The other guys on the team are busy showering off or busting each other’s balls, so no one notices my fuck of a mood except for Hunter, who’s just come from the coach’s office.

  “Hey, you okay?” Hunter asks.

  “Fine.” I pull my clean clothes from my bag and start removing my jersey.

  “You don’t look fine. What did Elle say?”

  “Nothing,” I snap.

  “Okay, man, if you say so. But Coach wants to see you.”

  “Great. Just what I need,” I grumble. I don’t know if I’m more pissed off by what Elle just said to me or that she showed up out of the blue and ruined what would’ve been a perfect day. I mean, I’ve been waiting to get my head back in the game for weeks. She’s probably jinxed me again. Not that I’m superstitious, but we all know that psychology plays an important role in winning, and my performance out there today was a direct result of…well, I don’t really know. Everything just clicked again. Fucking Elle. Why’d she have to show up? Not like I’ve missed her. Much.