by Anna B. Doe
He grins, dimples showing in his cheeks. “What would the quarterback of one of the best college football teams want to forget?”
It’s light, carefree and completely fake. Something I might have missed if I wasn’t looking as carefully as I did. Something I might not have recognized if we weren’t like two pieces cut from the same cloth.
What really?
“Let’s get to work.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
HAYDEN
Looking over my shoulder at the staircase, I notice it’s still empty. It’s been hours, so long that it was late evening, darkness clouding the sky. What are they still doing up there? The squeaking that was coming through the thin walls of Nix’s bedroom when I climbed up to change has gone quiet, but they haven’t emerged. Not even once.
“If you keep looking over your shoulder, you’ll sprain your neck.” Zane chuckles from the kitchen.
He just got home from the hockey game his kids were playing earlier today. Well, they’re not his. Zane coaches the high school team, mostly during the off-season since he has his own practices to worry about, but occasionally he joins them during the season too when their schedules don’t conflict.
The team was actually formed by one of Zane’s old coaches who wanted to help troubled kids get off the street and focus their punky attitude toward something useful instead of getting themselves into trouble. That was how Zane started playing in the first place. And even with just a few years of coaching, he was good enough to get a scholarship to BWU.
Sometimes I tag along, but not today. There was no way in hell I’d leave the house with Callie still closed off in Nix’s bedroom.
“How long does it take to study?”
He turns to me, looking at me like I lost my goddamn mind. Maybe I have. After the chewing Coach gave me today, I should have been going over plays or looking at the film for our next week’s game, instead I’m sitting here waiting to see Callie leave our house.
“I don’t know, Hades. However long it takes until you memorize everything you need to know.”
“Or however long it takes to drive me completely mad,” I mutter quietly so he can’t hear me. I know Nixon, and bringing Callie here had little to do with them studying and all with driving me insane.
“Want a sandwich?” Zane calls out once again. “Maybe food will help calm your cranky ass.”
“Not hungry,” I mutter, switching the channel to another reality TV show. Isn’t there something else to watch? Just a bunch of wanna-be-celebrities making fools out of themselves on national television. In the end, I switch back to ESPN.
“Suit yourself, but if you try to steal mine once I get my ass on the couch, I’ll bite your hand off.”
“Geeez, what has you all fired up? How’s the team?”
I listen as he talks about the game and kids. He’s so passionate about them, you can hear it in his every word. He knows all of their names, positions, and whatever they’re struggling with. He knows their families and friends and makes a point to stop by and talk to them if they’re in the rink. He’s like the big brother most of them don’t have.
“Dude, there’s this new kid on the team, Darius. He’s only fifteen, but the boy’s got some spunk. That little shit thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. He might be one of the youngest guys on the team, but he’s almost as tall as all the seniors. And he’s got some serious attitude on the ice.”
I laugh. “Sounds like somebody I know.”
“Ha, ha. You laugh all you want. The kid landed himself twice in the sin bin tonight. He’s not even the enforcer, he’s just looking for trouble!” Zane puts the water bottle on the coffee table and sits down on the couch. A plate with two ginormous chicken sandwiches in his lap. My stomach perks up at the sight. Maybe I actually am hungry.
I give him a look. “I repeat, sounds like somebody I know.”
“I wasn’t like that,” he protests.
“Yeah, you’re right. You were ten times worse.” I reach for the sandwich, but Zane swats my hand away.
“Mine. I asked you nicely, you said you weren’t hungry.”
“I changed my—”
“Mine,” he growls in warning. “You reach one more time for my sandwich, I’ll make sure to spit in it before it reaches your mouth.” Then he proceeds by taking a huge bite, making over the top noises just to piss me off.
That fucker.
I’m tempted to risk it and go for his second sandwich anyway when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Are you assholes watching porn again?” Nix shouts as Zane continues with his obnoxiously loud moaning. “We have company, so you better pull your pants on or you’ll traumatize the poor girl with your tiny dicks.”
“The only person with a tiny dick here is you, Nix, so I don’t believe she can be any more traumatized than she already is,” Zane interjects as soon as he swallows. Then he turns around and sees the girl in question. His whole body stiffens, and he gives me a look. “Callie.”
I can see surprise clearly written on his face. Not that I can blame him. He wasn’t here when Callie came so he didn’t know she was the one who was closed upstairs in Nix’s bedroom and the quick glance he shoots my way confirms it.
Her lips press in a tight line. “Hayden’s friend,” she says in the same curt way Zane did. I’m not sure what the hell’s going on, but something must have happened for both of them to be so on edge with each other.
“That fucker over there is Zane,” Nix makes the introductions, and then turns to Zane with interest. “Is there any more of it?”
He rubs his stomach, tugging aside his shirt. Callie’s eyes fall down to his abs. Everybody notices it, Nixon included. A knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he pulls his shirt a bit higher. “I’m hungry too.”
“Sure, just not for food,” Zane mutters, but not quietly enough so we don’t hear him.
“Zane?”
“Nope, I finished the last of it.”
“You fucker!” I turn to look at him. Anything just so I don’t have to stare at Callie and Nixon anymore. Just watching them stand side by side, silently interacting makes me want to punch somebody. Preferably, my best friend. “You said you’d make me one.”
“I was, but that was before you said no. There is no need to waste food so I made two for myself.” I punch him in the arm. “Ouch, what was that for?”
“Lying about my sandwich. You never meant to make it, did you?” I should have known better. Zane wasn’t one known to share his food with anybody. I guess that comes when sometimes you have nothing to eat for days.
“If there was enough, I would have,” he shrugs, not even a trace of guilt in his tone.
“Yeah, yeah.” I cross my arms over my chest and turn to the TV. “Ask me if I believe in your bullshit.”
“So pizza it is,” Nix says to interrupt any further discussion. “Hades, you up for Angelo’s?”
“Hell yes!” Angelo has the best damn pizza in the whole state and just the mention of it has my mouth watering.
“What? You decide to order pizza now that I ate?” Zane looks actually heartbroken. What can I say? It’s that good of a pizza. And payback is a bitch.
“Serves you right. Next time you’ll think twice before messing with my food.”
“What about you, Callie? Staying for pizza?”
I turn around just as the two of them exchange another one of their looks. I grip the back of the couch as I watch their silent exchange, trying to figure out what the hell is going on.
“So pizza?” Nixon urges when she doesn’t reply right away.
She shakes her head at him, a few strands of her hair falling out of the messy bun and curling around her face. “I have to go.”
“Come on, Cals,” Nixon drawls, pouting. He looks ridiculous, but it makes her laugh anyway. That little curve of her lips is like a punch to my gut. And the fact that she directed it at my best friend leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Another swift shake
of her head. “My roommate is waiting for me. But you guys have fun.”
“If you say so,” Nixon sighs in resignation, but lets the matter go. Fucking finally. I wasn’t sure I could sit with the two of them through dinner. “I’ll walk you out.”
“It’s fine,” she protests, but he glares right back at her, effectively shushing her up. “I don’t remember asking.”
“That would be too much to ask.” She rolls her eyes, and for a split second turns toward us. Our gazes meet for a moment before she turns away. “Later boys!”
We watch them go down the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” Zane turns around to glare at me as soon as they’re out of the earshot.
“I could ask the same,” I throw back. There is no way I’m not getting to the bottom of the strange tense vibe that filled the room when Callie and Zane saw each other.
“It’s nothing.”
“Didn’t look like it to me.”
“I saw her at the clinic, we exchanged some words, the end. What about you? Why didn’t you tell me she’s the one who was up with Nix?”
I turn back to the TV. “It’s none of your goddamn business.”
The silence settles over us, but Zane doesn’t let it linger.
“Say what you want, but you’ve got it bad, man.” Zane shakes his head. “Cut that shit out before she messes with you all over again.”
“Sure, I’ve got it so bad I want to strangle her,” I mutter, watching a recap of a football game.
Football. That’s what I have to be focusing on. Football and school. Not blasts from the pasts that are going to blow up in my face. Been there, done that.
“Or something,” he adds noncommittedly.
“Or nothing. She irritates the hell out of me. I stopped believing all these ‘chance’ encounters are accidents after the third one. She’s purposely trying to drive me insane.”
She and Nixon both. I still wasn’t sure what his endgame was but it couldn’t be anything good. For as long as I’ve known him, Nixon didn’t do girlfriends. He’s the ultimate love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy. So what the hell does he want with Callie? Is it to prove a point? Show me he was right and she can get under my skin? Fuck that.
“Is it working?” Zane asks, his mouth full of food.
You have no idea. But of course I don’t say that. “Not in the least.”
“You’re a shit liar, Hades.”
“Fuck off and eat your shitty sandwich.”
He points his finger at me. “Whatever, but don’t you for one moment think I won’t eat pizza too. It’s too good to miss out on.”
“I didn’t doubt it for a second.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CALLIE
“How have you been doing, Callie?”
I shift my weight, trying to find a more comfortable spot to sit, while at the same time avoiding the weary look the dean of Blairwood University gives me across from his big mahogany desk that dominates his office. Sighing, I give up and finally look at him. He’s in his late forties, just like my parents. You wonder how I know that? They were good friends—my parents and the dean—the visiting kind. I’ve seen Oliver Wilson on more than a few occasions over the years. In a way, he was an honorary uncle to me. He took the dean position only last year, but when I reached out regarding my acceptance and… my difficulties, he assured me that my spot at BWU would be waiting for me whenever I was ready to get back, which I was grateful for.
Since I could remember, I heard my parents talk about me going to BWU just like they did, and I knew how much they wanted me to keep the tradition going.
So here I am. After all, that was the only thing I could give them after letting them down when it comes to everything else.
“I’m f—” I open my mouth, but think better of it when I see the dean’s knowing stare. His hands are folded over a neat stack of papers before him as he assesses me. “It’s been a rough few weeks,” I end up saying truthfully.
Months. Years. But who’s counting?
“Are your classes going well?”
“As well as they can at this point, I suppose.” I shrug. If things were different, if I were different, I would have a mix of general education courses and dance classes, but since I can’t dance anymore, I have a full Gen Ed course load in the hope to figure out what I want to do with my life. “But you can find that for yourself. Why did you call me here, Oliver?”
I wouldn’t call him by his first name if we weren’t alone in his office. I didn’t want my connection to the dean of the university out in the open. There were enough rumors going around about me without our relationship being public knowledge.
He gives me a sheepish grin. “Well, I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
I sit a little straighter, unsure about where this is going. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“You know that your parents were alumni, right?”
“That’s why I’m here.” I nod. “What about it?”
“Blairwood University is one of its kind. What makes it different is the fact that the number of scholarship students is almost the same, if not higher, than the regular students.”
Aka, rich kids like me. That’s how universities roll. They need the money to fund themselves and offer scholarships to kids who don’t have funds of their own but have the smarts or talent for it.
“Your parents were donors. Before…”
He doesn’t finish, letting the words hang in the air.
The wave of sadness crashes into me almost instantly. The memories of two people who I love the most in the world would probably bring me to my knees if I were standing.
Digging my fingers into the edge of the chair, I welcome the burn and push them back. I haven’t talked to anybody about them in so long, it almost feels surreal. And painful. Too painful.
They say time heals all wounds, but whoever they are, are fucking liars. Some wounds are too deep to heal. Too rugged to ever be patched together. Some people too damaged to ever be made whole again. And some people, like me, don’t deserve it at all.
“Anyway.” He nods solemnly, pulling me back to the present. Oliver grabs a folder and offers it to me. I carefully take it from his hands, open it and skim through the papers inside as he continues explaining. “They sponsored various scholarships over the years, helping kids in different fields come here and accomplish their dreams…”
He continues telling me about all the kids, adults now really, who got the scholarship and their accomplishments, but his voice fades into background noise as I scan the pages in front of me. Their smiling faces, stated awards, and accomplishments. Until I come to the last page and the folder slips from my shaky hands, but the photo of the student somehow ends up on the table looking right back at me.
Dean looks down at it. If he’s surprised by my reaction, he doesn’t say anything. “He was the last one they sponsored.”
My heart stops for a moment, breath stuck in my lungs.
How?
I knew they liked Hayden back then, they always had nice words to say about him, compared to ‘that punk Ben’. But this? This is something completely different. Something on another level.
But then something else occurs to me. “Did they pick the students to sponsor?”
Oliver shakes his head. “The faculty picks out the students to sponsor based on their grades and talents.”
I sigh in relief, my eyes still glued to the desk.
It’s just a coincidence.
“But they did handpick him,” Dean adds.
My head snaps up to look at him. “They did?”
Oh my God, they knew. My whole body shakes as the realization sinks in. They knew. They must have known. Even before that day, they must have known.
Tears gather in my eyes, but I give my best to blink them away. I will not cry. Not now.
“Callie?” There is worry in Oliver’s tone, so I force a smile out. “If you’re not ready or interested in continuing th
eir work, I’ll unde—”
“I’ll do it,” I rush out before he can say more, ask any more questions. “I’ll talk to my lawyer tomorrow, but I want to do it. We can set up two scholarships in honor of Mom and Dad. They would love it.”
Dean smiles softly. “Yes, they would.” There is a slight pause. “There is another thing I wanted to discuss.”
As discreetly as possible, I swipe at the tear that escaped me. “What is it?”
“There is a Christmas ball happening after all the exams are over. It’s to honor the accomplishments of our students made in the past year. I invited your parents to attend to give out the prizes, but they always insisted they would come once you were a student here. We would love it if you’d do it instead.”
All the emotions welling inside me make it hard to speak. “Oliver, I—”
He reaches across the desk, giving my hands a squeeze. “Think about it, okay?”
I nod my head. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
A little while later, after we discuss the logistics of it so I know what to say to my lawyer, I leave the dean’s office and head out. I have a class in an hour and I need to stop by Cup It Up to grab some coffee if I plan to survive this day. The coffee shop has become my addiction, and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon. Just the thought of it has my blood buzzing for my next fix.
As soon as I leave the building, the cool afternoon air grazes my skin, making me shiver as I realize I forgot my jacket.
Damn, not again.
I’ll have to get used to carrying it around if I don’t want to freeze to death. But when you come from California where the sun shines practically all year long, it’s hard to remember something as trivial as a jacket.
Pulling my sweater a bit higher, I fumble with the bag over my shoulder when I hear a familiar voice that makes my whole body stiffen.
“Already in trouble with the dean?” Hayden’s loud whistle makes a few heads turn in our direction. “I bet you only had to pull out your checkbook and the problem was solved, right?”
