by Mj Fields
“Fuck it,” I say as I get up and head to the locker room.
It’s ten o’clock when I get to her place. I laugh when I think that I’m only parking a couple blocks away now. Probably doesn’t matter one bit anymore, but I think about the fact that Logan was right. When I leave here, if all goes as planned and I get signed, every fucking dick in town is going to want a piece of what I had. Fuck if I would do that to her … And fuck if I will do that to myself.
I grab the bags from my stop at Walmart then shut the door behind me. Walking around to the back of my truck, I then pull out the tree I grabbed off the side of the road.
“Charlie Brown’s tree has nothing on you.” I laugh as I pull the little thing out.
Walking up the stairs, I hear Ray talking to someone, so yeah, I stop and listen because … Fuck the excuses. Because I’m that fucking nosey when it comes with her.
She sighs. “I promise to come visit soon.”
I wait to hear whoever the hell it is she’s talking to reply.
When she says, “When the semester ends and the bar is slower, he’ll need less help, so I’ll take some time off then,” I realize she is clearly on the phone.
“I miss you, too. But honestly, I’ve never been happier.”
I like that and will damn sure take credit for part of the reason she’s happier.
“No, not just because of the guy. I learned through Mom’s mistakes, just like you told me, too.”
Scratch that. Now I’m feeling a little slighted.
“He’s great. Amazing actually. But he’s not like anyone she was ever with. He’s not a jerk. He knows so much … things I never thought I would share. And when he moves on, I’ll be happy for him, not chase after him, not cry, not go into some sort of depression. I want him to be happy, Shakeeka, and I know he wants the same for me.”
Okay, yeah, I like this.
“Do I love him?” She sighs. “I love the moments we have together, and I love that he isn’t trying to control or change me, and I love that I have no desire to control or change him.”
I love that, too, I think.
“He is wonderful, and he is leaving to pursue his dreams.” Silence. “I’ll always remember him, but—” She stops and my head is screaming, But what! “I’m not looking for that, and I’m sure he’s not either. I appreciate the advice, but I’m positive neither of us are going to abandon our dreams for a possibility. We’re young and—” She laughs. “Yes, dreams. I’m drawing again.
“I’m glad, too. And yes, you told me I had talent, but you’re a bit biased. He, on the other hand, doesn’t love me, and he’s not family, so he wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true, so take no offense.”
True story, I think, gripping the damn tree harder so it doesn’t fall down the stairs.
“I miss you, too. Talk to you soon. And Merry Christmas. “
“Son of a bitch!” I yell when the tree slips from my grip.
“Trucker?”
I hear her feet padding across the floor and look up.
Looking down at me, the tree, and the bags, she smiles. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”
“Trying to surprise you.”
She pulls the little sweater she’s wearing closed. “You’re supposed to be home.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m supposed to be doing what makes me happy.”
She points to herself. “Me?”
I nod. “After we throw together a little Christmas, Ray, it’s definitely gonna be you that I make happy.”
“You just did.” Smiling, she runs down the stairs, kisses me on the damn cheek, grabs the bags, and then laughs as she yells behind her, “You better get the tree.”
When I walk up the stairs, I smell something … Christmassy. When I walk in, I see a tiny, little electric fireplace, with a sock next to it that’s stuffed. On her table are cookies and some breads.
“I thought you had to work,” I comment, looking around.
“Well, I decided maybe I wanted different Christmas memories.” She walks over and pushes herself up onto her toes to kiss my cheek again. “I guess we were both thinking the same thing.”
I could tell her about the shit I just walked away from, but I won’t because, yeah, I want a better Christmas memory, and who better to make it with?
I set the tree down and kiss her back, but not on the nose, right on her smiling, welcoming lips. “Let’s do this tree thing, and then get to the fun stuff.”
Since the tree is small, it takes no time to set it up in the stand. Then I pull out a package of bulbs and we throw them on.
“Looks like shit, huh?” I laugh, looking over at her.
“No, Trucker, it looks perfect.”
“So, I got you something.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No, of course not, but you have family to visit.”
Still not willing to tell her about the argument with my father and fuck this up, I shake my head. “Already did what I have to. Now I wanna do this thing with you.”
“When do you have to leave, to go back?”
“Don’t have to, but if you have plans …” I shrug.
“So, you can stay?” Her voice nearly squeaks.
“If it’s okay with you?”
Her smile lights up the room. “Then no presents until morning. Just cookies. And I bought this.” She walks over and grabs a book. When she turns around, I see it’s the Bible. “Do you think we could read the Christmas story?”
Both of us hold back laughs.
“I think we can figure it out.”
Lying in her bed with the little fireplace going, I pat the side next to me. “Let’s do this.”
She jumps on the bed and crawls up it, a move that usually gets me hard, but I’m holding the Bible and she’s dressed in a reindeer nightshirt with candy cane socks hiked up past her knees and smiling like a kid, and … fuck if I don’t get wrapped up in that moment with her.
“You did amazing,” I tell her, kissing her head as I set the Bible on the floor next to the bed.
“Christmas miracle.” She grins then yawns.
“You tired?”
“I am. You?”
“Yeah, Ray, I could sleep.”
When I wake up in the morning with her in my arms, I look at her and just watch her sleep. We didn’t fuck last night, so I should be ready to tear her up, but I’m more excited about giving her the gifts.
She yawns, and I watch as her eyes flutter open.
“Merry Christmas.” She smiles a sleepy yet excited smile.
I go to kiss her, but she rolls away.
“I have a gift for you.”
Killing me, Ray, I think as I sit up.
As she runs into the bathroom and brushes her teeth, I push myself up and make my way to do the same.
When we are finished, she nearly skips out of the room then bends over, reaching under the bed.
“Nice panties,” I comment, wiping my mouth off.
“Candy cane stripes. They match my socks.”
Easy, Boom, I urge my cock to stay the fuck down for a while as I stare at her ass.
She turns around with a big bag in one hand and a small one in the other. “Merry Christmas!”
Her excitement is childlike, too, and it’s also contagious, like a disease.
“Let me throw some clothes on and go get your gifts out of the truck.”
She frowns. “Can’t you just open these first?”
“Nope.” I laugh and grab my clothes. “That’s not how this is gonna work.”
“Well, hurry up then!” She laughs.
When I come back in, she gasps.
“Sorry, this one couldn’t be wrapped.”
“Is that …?” She swallows hard, holding her hands over her chest.
“Yeah, it’s an easel.” I drop the boxes down on the bed and open up the one with the easel. “Thought you could keep this in the window so you weren’t up on that ledge
.”
“It’s …” She swallows back her emotions as I set it next to her window and unfold it. “You made this?”
I nod. “Wasn’t hard, Ray.”
“It’s beautiful.” She walks over and runs her hands over the wooden frame appreciatively.
“What you create is beautiful. I hope you’ll use this when you draw your next picture.”
She throws her arms around me and hugs me tightly. “Best present ever.”
“Yeah?” I look down at her.
She nods then steps back and walks over to the big bag and pulls out a large album. “This is what I made for you.”
I take it, sit on the edge of her bed, and open it. “Jesus, Ray.”
The picture is of me at the end zone. Behind me is a score.
“That’s the first game of the season.”
She sits next to me and smiles. “Yep.”
I turn the page and shake my head. “This is amazing.”
“You are amazing, and when you look at this, I hope you remember how far you’ve come, and how far you’re going.”
Each page has a picture she drew of me, and the score to the game.
“There’s empty pages for the Bowl game, and then you can fill it with all the moments to come.”
“I wanna show you how much this means to me, via orgasms, but I have another gift for you.”
She bites her bottom lip and nods.
I reach up and pull it out from between her teeth. “Keep that up and I’m not promising anything.”
“Me first!” She smiles and jumps up to get the other bag as I walk over and grab the bag I have for her.
“Here. Open it.” She grins.
“You, too.” I hand her hers.
I can’t help smiling when I see the football pendant with my number on the front and the year on the back. It’s nearly the same as the one I bought for Logan.
“It’s different than his, but …”
I reach up and take my chain off. “It’s perfect, Ray. Now open yours.”
She opens the bag and gasps, “Oh, my goodness.” She pulls the stadium-length, black winter coat out of the bag.
“It’s warm, Ray. I’m sick of seeing you cold.”
She hugs it as she kicks her little feet. “I love it!”
I laugh. “I’m glad. Now, check the pocket.”
I watch as she reaches inside and pulls out the black velvet box that is longer than her little hand. Then she opens it and looks confused, so I give her a scratch behind the ear. She smirks. “It’s beautiful.”
I pull the necklace out of the box and hold the pendant in my hand. “Got you a football, too. You made this the best season, Ray. I just wanted you to know you’re my”—I flip it around and show her the engraving—“MVP.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A win and a loss
Keeka
When Trucker Cohen asked me to fly to Arizona to watch him play in the Fiesta Bowl, I swear my face felt like it may split in two, and my heart soared to an all-time high. Then, reality set in and my soaring heart crashed at knowing there was one tale I have told—my legal name. Another untold tale—my age. The two together would have made it impossible to fly since I don’t have a license. Well, not a real one anyway.
I told him I had to work. He told me that Lou would understand and offered to buy my ticket. It was the second fight we had.
When he fell asleep, I hid in the bathroom and cried with my hand wrapped around the MVP necklace. When I felt him lift me up off the bathroom floor, I realized I had cried myself to sleep.
He laid me on the bed and apologized for being upset with me, and then … then he kissed me while whispering, “Can’t help wanting you there; no more than I can help falling, Ray.”
I whispered back I was sorry over and over, and he told me … “Shhh …”
Today, I stand behind the bar, looking over the sea of orange watching the game and listening to the same old things.
“It’s a nail biter.”
“They’ve got fucking blueprints!”
“He’s a football player!”
“He’s carrying the team on his back!”
“Gonna be a tough win in this hostile environment.”
“These two teams just don’t like each other.”
“Boys are getting cocky.”
“Come on, ‘Cuse! We need a miracle!”
“Play like it’s your field!”
“Don’t fuck this up, Orange!”
It wasn’t so annoying anymore; it was kind of endearing.
The game was in fact a nail-biter. I look down at my nails to confirm that, yep, gone. Completely gone.
The first time SU had possession, Trucker got tackled so hard that Coach Brown pulled him out. He flipped, totally flipped.
I watched Logan calm him down.
The next time they gained possession, he was back on the field.
When he was sacked after the ball was thrown, he got into a fight, a physical fight, with number 88 on the opposing team. The crowd screamed at the TVs, all seven of them, because a flag wasn’t thrown. I could see anger in Trucker’s eyes.
The next throw resulted in a touchdown for the Orangeman, and Trucker grabbed “Boom” while flipping off number 88.
At halftime, the score was tied.
I sent a text, knowing he wouldn’t get it, but needing to just the same.
Keeka
Your dream, your field, your plays. Kick ass, Trucker!
I was on edge the entire game. The last thirty seconds, SU made a touchdown, and the crowd was saying it was over. Saying they had a good run. Saying everything but not paying attention to the thirty seconds remaining on the clock or having faith in the men on the field.
I stood, eyes glued to the TV, watching the return and the Orangemen lining up for the play. Ignoring drink orders and Lou snapping at me, I stood there with my hand on my necklace, wishing I was there and praying for a miracle for the first time in my life.
The final play, Trucker took it in, and I swear every man on the field was on top of him and every “fan” in the bar was against him. They said he wasn’t inside, but as bodies started being pulled off, whistles continued to blow, and both the stadium crowd and the one in the bar quieted down as one of the refs called, “Offside, number 88. Defense, repeat. First down.”
Hope was renewed.
With three seconds on the clock, Logan tackled what seemed like the entire team as Trucker dove into the end zone.
“Touchdown!”
When Trucker and the team returned two days later, there was a parade on Marshall Street, a hero’s welcome. I stood on the sidewalk, wrapped in my new, black, toasty warm coat and cheered with everyone else.
For the rest of winter break, Trucker stayed at my place. We spent our mornings having … sex and coffee, followed by before-work sex. A few times, we had stairway sex, shower sex again, and every night, we had bedtime sex.
He was high on the season, and I was high on him.
I knew without question I was in love with Trucker Cohen, and I knew without words that he had fallen, too.
In mid-January, the first weekend that students returned, the bar hosted the first of two fundraisers. This one was for the local children’s hospital.
Behind the bar with Lou, myself, and Reda were all the senior SU football players. Lou, Reda, and I made drinks and handed them off to the guys, who served the crowd, their crowd, and did shots right along with them.
By the end of the night, Trucker was loaded and his inability to whisper what he was going to do to his Most Valuable Pussy tonight had me nearly tripping over myself.
When he does another shot, I remind him, “You have a news crew coming to the hospital at nine in the morning to meet you and your team.”
He slurred, “I’m gonna fall face-first in your pussy as soon as we’re alone and eat until then.”
Logan laughs. “Fuck, you are jackass.”
I want to die of embarrassm
ent.
“I wasn’t talking to you, you sexy fucking beast.” Trucker kisses him loudly on the cheek.
“I know what you’re like to wake up to in the morning after you get shit- and pussy-faced.”
“Pussy-faced.” Trucker hugs him. “That’s funny as fuck.”
“Funny fuck, fucking clowns. Fuck you.” Logan hugs him back.
“Salad tossing.” Trucker leans back from the hug and kisses him right on the lips.
“The fuck!” Logan pushes him back.
“Where is the love, Will-I-Am?” Trucker laughs at himself, and Logan pulls his baseball cap down, grinning like a fool.
“You two are adorable.” I shake my head, laughing. “But totally worthless behind the bar at this point.” I lift up the section of the bar so they can get out. “Go play.”
“You are not the boss of me.” Trucker tweaks my nose, and I give him a shove.
I watch him and Logan stumble into their awaiting fans, laughing.
“Good call,” Lou says with a laugh. “I think I can start leaving you alone in this place after that.”
“I wouldn’t know what to do without you barking orders, Lou,” I joke, and Reda starts laughing.
When Pitbull’s “Time of Our Lives” starts to play, I glance over and watch as Trucker and Logan get shuffled toward the dance floor, and then, well, then the girls are all over them.
“You gonna let that happen?” Lou nods.
“You heard the man. I’m not the boss of him.” I shrug.
Without the guys behind the bar, the crowd thins. “Time to work those tables, Keeka.”
I duck under the bar. “I’m on it.”
I make trips back and forth to the bar, serving drinks. And while I wait for my orders to be filled, I feel hands grip my hips and dig into my flesh, and then he whispers, “Dance with me.”
“I’m on the clock, your highness.”
“Lou!” he yells. “I’m stealing this one for a dance.”
“Whatever.” Lou throws his hands up. “I’ll just do it all.”
He practically drags me out onto the dance floor as the song “New Rule” by Dua Lipa is playing. He turns me around and winks.
