The libero position only plays the back row and subs in and out frequently for taller hitters who typically suck at passing. I’ve grown to love the position. I play the whole game and I dig up volleyballs that most people can’t. It’s why I’m a DI recruit like my six foot tall, freakishly strong for being so thin, sister.
“I like my position, thank you very much. Now can we get back to this crisis of my apparently shitty wardrobe?”
“Well,” Mary Lou hums and taps her lip with index finger in thought. “You could check Staley’s closet for a dress.”
“Isn’t that too much for Bubby’s?”
“Nah. Better to be overdressed than under, I always say,” Mary Lou replies as she pops off my bed and heads toward Staley’s room.
“Since when have you ever said that?” Staley asks as we follow her across the hall.
“Just now,” she shrugs and we laugh.
We raid Staley’s closet and finally find the perfect September-in-Georgia dress for a dinner date at Bubby’s.
“I forgot I had this!” Staley exclaims. “I loved this dress. You can have it. It is too short for me now.”
“Classy not assy,” Mary Lou sing-songs and she admires her reflection in Staley’s full-length mirror.
“Exactly,” Staley confirms. And she’s right. This dress fits me like a glove which means it would be up to her ass cheeks. It’s a navy blue slip dress with a nude lace overlay. I pair it with my navy open toe wedge sandals that strap around my ankle. I will be about eye level with Jess in these.
Mary Lou curls my blonde locks into long, beachy waves and Staley applies my makeup. I feel like a model with all this pampering.
“I’m going sweat all this makeup off,” I whine.
“I didn’t put foundation on you. You don’t need it with your flawless skin, you bitch.” Staley tries to sound mad, but she laughs. The one difference between us is our skin tone. I’m peachy while Staley is definitely pasty.
“Okay, good. I don’t want my face melting off.”
“Done!” Mary Lou exclaims with a final spritz of hairspray.
I check myself out and I’m pleasantly surprised. I’m usually a cut-offs and t-shirt kind of girl, or jeans and hoodies in the colder months. Staley didn’t overdue it and Mary Lou conquered the everlasting straightness of my hair which usually never holds a curl. I feel good. Confident. Even though I’m out of my comfort zone.
“Why do you think he asked me out now?” I ask skeptically as I stare as a framed photo on my desk of Jessup and me. It’s from when we were about eleven and Jessup came over for an Easter egg hunt.
“Who cares? You were best friends, Stanz. Maybe he wants to reconnect. Maybe he pulled his head out of his ass and finally realized you’re hot AF and he shouldn’t have bailed on you. I don’t know. But I do know you have always had a thing for him and it’s grown over time, and it’s finally your chance to act on it before it’s too late,” Staley concludes.
“Yup,” Mary Lou says, “that,” and points at Staley approvingly.
The doorbell rings just as I digest Staley’s words. It’s true. My feelings for Jess grew over the years to the point I didn’t know what to do with them. But then he cut me out and didn’t leave me much of a choice on whether or not I wanted to act on what I felt.
“Eeek!” Mary Lou screams.
“Shh!” I chide.
“I’ll get the door so you can walk down the steps all sexy like in She’s All That,” Staley offers and bolts down the stairs from our bedrooms on the second floor.
“She’ll be right down.” I hear her tell Jessup.
“Good luck!” Mary Lou kisses my cheek. “Please, please, please kiss and tell.” She winks and me.
“Cart and horse, Lou,” I smile. “This could really be a friend thing.” I say that in an effort to repress my expectations. I don’t want to get hurt.
“Yeah, it’s not.” She smiles and shoves me out of my bedroom door.
I walk down the stairs with Mary Lou a step behind. Jessup is standing by the door talking with Staley. He’s wearing a white button down with the sleeves rolled up over his roped forearms and navy blue chino shorts that cup him in all the right places. His latte skin is glowing in the setting sun that is creeping in through the windows.
I touch my lips quickly to make sure I’m not actually drooling.
“He looks like an iced coffee that I want to fuck,” Mary Lou whispers behind me and it makes me giggle. He does look deliciously drinkable.
As soon as I hit the bottom step, he and Staley stop talking and his eyes fixate on me. His sparkling root beer eyes start at my shoes and slowly work their way up to my face causing tingles to rise over my body. He doesn’t speak.
Standing there, expressionless and staring, he’s making me worried I’m overdressed. I shoot a glance to Staley who is also just standing there gawking at me.
“Hey, Jess,” I offer to break the awkward silence.
“Whoa, Stanzy, I- uh, wow,” he stammers and rubs the back of his neck with his hand.
“Too much?” I ask as I tug on the bottom of the dress.
“No, I mean, yes. I mean, you look stunning. Perfection,” he lets out a breath with the word and my insides flutter with the compliment.
“Duh, Jess,” Mary Lou replies and shoulders past me. “Have fun kids!” she exclaims and ushers us out the door.
As we walk to his late model Chevrolet pickup he asks, “So Mary Lou is still like that, huh?”
“Bossy and sassy?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Always,” I laugh.
Jessup opens my door and I slide in. It is an old truck with just a front bench seat and a truck bed. I always wondered why Rowen never gave the boys each a vehicle. It’s weird considering he owns a successful car dealership.
I’m not materialistic, obviously from my lack of wardrobe, but riding in a truck without air conditioning is going to be rough on my hair and makeup. If I roll the window down my hair will freak out and if I don’t my mascara will probably run down my cheeks. Either way I will look like that guy from Twisted Sister after a concert. Shit.
“What’s wrong?” he asks after noticing me deep in thought.
I don’t want to sound like one of those girls who are overly obsessed with their looks, so I reply with the standard girl response that every guy knows isn’t true, “Nothing.”
“Sorry about the lack of A/C. Old ass truck passed down through the ranks.” It’s like even after a year apart he can still read my mind.
“Oh, no problem, but I must warn you, I will not look like this when we get to the restaurant.”
He side-eyes me as he pulls away from the curb.
“The wind,” I offer an explanation. “It will toss my hair and turn it into a complete disaster.” I laugh nervously hoping he doesn’t think I’m being conceited. I wasn’t ever concerned with how I looked around him, he’s seen me without makeup and in my pajamas more times than I can count. But now, I want him to find me attractive.
“Well, then it’ll be the first time I’ve ever been turned on by a complete disaster,” he smiles genuinely and I melt a little more the compliment.
Staley and I aren’t ugly, we get complimented often and hit on occasionally by horny high school boys, but the way Jess says “turned on” has me feeling sexy and mature. It makes me think back to his hard-on at the party. A shiver runs through me.
As the wind blows through the truck and my hair swirls like a golden tornado I decide to braid it. All of Mary Lou’s hard work is negated, but this will be better than the ratted mess it will be after the drive.
Bubby’s is hopping as we pull into the parking lot. The restaurant is two levels with an all wood exterior and a large wraparound deck for outdoor seating on the second level. A bright pink neon sign that reads “Bubby’s” above a picture of a cow is hanging in the front.
A hostess seats us in a booth near a window. I glance around at all the swag hanging on the walls. T
here are several autographed photos of famous people who have eaten here, jerseys from Georgia high schools and colleges, and a massive taxidermy alligator above the bar.
I look back to Jessup who is staring at me and I immediately tense.
“What’s wrong? Is it that bad?” I ask and feel around my head for any bumps or loose hairs.
“No, no. You just did that twisty braid thing in the car and it looks… beautiful. I don’t know how you did that.” He smiles and I can feel the blush on my cheeks.
The waitress stops by and takes our drink order.
“Be back in a second, sweethearts,” she waves as she walks off to get our water.
“Sweethearts? That was cute,” I giggle. I actually fucking giggle. I wish lady.
“So, Stanzy,” Jessup begins, “how have you been?”
“You mean today or…?” I trail off insinuating that he hasn’t spoken to me in a long time.
“Yeah,” he rubs the back of neck nervously. Same thing he did as a kid when things were making him anxious. “We were friends for a long time, but we haven’t been close for a while. I feel like I don’t really even know you. Ya know, when we were younger we talked all the time. I feel like I don’t know much about you anymore,” Jessup finishes and pops a piece of a dinner roll into his mouth that the waitress dropped off when she took our drink orders.
“Well, what do you want to know? I know you hate orange juice and that your favorite color is blue. Still true?”
“Well, my favorite color now is black, but I still hate OJ. So gross. Do you still hate peas?”
“I do,” I reply with a laugh. He remembered that. He used to eat my peas when we had them for lunch at school.
There’s an awkward pause before he asks, “I’ve never asked, what does Stanzy mean? It’s very unique. Like you.” He really is starting from scratch. When we were young we didn’t dive into deep stuff like we probably should have considering the reason he was always at my house.
“And Jessup isn’t?” I raise an eyebrow to him and he chuckles.
“Touché.”
“Well, Mama is a published poet actually. I’m not sure if you knew that. She’s been writing poetry since she was young and has been published in several different collections and has three complete books of her own. My name comes from stanza.”
“Wow. That’s cool. So, what about Staley? Is that a poem thing too?” he asks the waitress drops off our waters.
“Ready to order?” she asks.
“Ladies, first.” He gestures toward me and I can see the hearts swooning in the waitresses eyes. Yeah, he might be a good one lady.
“Could I please have the six ounce sirloin, baked potato and side salad with Italian dressing?”
“Of course,” she confirms as she writes it down. “And for the handsome gentleman?”
“I will have the ten ounce sirloin, mashed potatoes and green beans, please. And I need the thirty-two ounce prime rib to-go. You can pick the sides and tell the cook to spit on it,” Jessup smiles and hands the menu back to the stunned looking waitress.
“It’s for my brother who is making me buy him dinner for using our truck tonight,” he offers as an explanation. “He’s a jerk.”
“Well, she’s worth it, so gorgeous,” the waitress says with a wink and walks off.
“Spit on it?”
“Yeah, he’s a dick. I never get the truck because he takes it to college all the time and I still have to pay for gas.” Jessup shrugs, but I can tell it annoys him.
“Why doesn’t your dad just give you a truck from his lot?” I ask the question I’ve wondered for a while now.
“He wants us to earn what we have like he had to. Plus, if he gives us too much he can’t control us. He’s the got the power if we need to rely on him.”
There’s a beat of silence before he changes the subject, “You were saying about Staley?”
“Oh, right. Well that is a funny story actually. Mama wanted to name her Stacey, but the doctor’s handwriting on her baby paperwork or whatever you call it was so bad that when the state issued the birth certificate it said Staley Mae instead of Stacey Mae. My parents just never changed it.”
“That’s fucking crazy.” Jessup laughs a deep belly laugh and it’s beautiful to see. He’s come a long way from the scared boy in my bedroom.
“I know right. I always tell her she was a mistake and she always snaps back that she wasn’t, it’s just her name that is. Then she proceeds to tell me that I was the mistake because she’s older.”
“By four minutes,” Jessup says and stretches his arm over the back of the booth. Totally sexy and completely at ease.
“Someday I will appreciate being younger,” I say with a laugh. “What about your family? How is everyone?”
Jessup winces and looks away for a minute.
“How are your brothers and sisters?” I try to shift the subject away from Rowen if he doesn’t want to talk about his dad.
“Frankie is working with our dad selling cars at the dealership in Afton. He and Jacinta have two sons now. Rence lives in the ATL. Etta divorced him after he cheated on her. Alice lives in California and is a production assistant in Hollywood. She’s doing big things. Eliza went to the Dallas Culinary Academy and now lives there while working as a sous chef at some swanky restaurant. Ricky had a baby girl last year and lives with his girlfriend. He works the grounds crew at the country club in Peachberry. Rollie is living the life at Georgia,” he concludes and my head is spinning trying to remember all that.
I nod. “I’ve seen him play. He’s doing well.” I offer a compliment. Jessup’s normally excessive bubbly mood has turned sour and I blame myself.
“He’s doing okay. He comes home a lot so that leads me to believe he doesn’t really like it all that much.”
“That too bad,” I say honestly. Rollie, although cocky and brash, has always been nice to me. “Hey, so you asked me about my name. I’ve always wondered, is Jessup a family name?” I ask.
“Well now that you mention it I guess our names have a pretty funny story,” he confirms as the waitress delivers our food. He turns on the Rhodes charm and flashes her a perfect smile, hiding the sadness that came with talking about his family.
“Looks good?” she asks.
We both nod and say, “Yes, thank you,” at the same time. The waitress smiles in approval and walks away.
“So, how are they special?” I ask as I begin to cut up my steak.
“Well,” he pauses and chews a bite of his. “All the boys actually have the same name.”
“Huh? I am so confused,” I reply and pause in thought. “Jessup and Frankie are not the same. None of them are.”
He laughs, “Right. But all of us have the first name, Rowen. After my dad. You know my dad is a control freak. He didn’t want to give one son the title of junior just in case that kid was a fuck up. So he named us all Rowen after him, but gave us all different middle names. So I’m technically Rowen Jessup Rhodes. My brothers are Rowen Franklin Rhodes, Rowen Clarence Rhodes… you get the idea.”
I nod. “So you all go by your middle names. How is it possible I never knew that?”
“It’s not something we broadcast. Being the son of Rowen Rhodes is not exactly something we’re proud of.”
“Why is your dad so bitter?” I ask bluntly. I never understood why Rowen was so mean to Jess. He was the best of the boys, hands down.
“Jealously maybe. He was a wide receiver at Georgia before blowing out his knee and ruining his shot at the NFL. My mama was a really good athlete, a sprinter. She always says we’re better athletes than either of them and I think that drives my dad insane. We all have a shot to live the life he didn’t. My brothers fucked that up though. There’s still a chance for Rollie, I guess.”
“And you.”
He nods. “I guess.”
“Why didn’t it work out for them?”
He shrugs. “They went to Georgia and just never made much of the opportunity. I don�
��t think it was necessarily the coaching or the school, but they just never fit in. They just lost their mojo there.”
“What about you? What are the plans for next year?” he asks as his eyes roam over my face.
“Staley and I are going to Minnesota to play. I’m happy we’re going together. Do you have plans for next year? I know you’re a big time recruit. We hear the news all the time.”
“Well,” he pauses and shoves his food around on his plate like he’s avoiding the question. He’s so humble for being such a star athlete. He’s always been that way.
“You don’t have to tell me. I know committing is a big deal and is supposed to be a secret until you announce.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m prying.
“No, it’s not that. It’s just that I don’t know where I’m going.”
“Yeah? Too many good schools to choose from? Who’s looking at you?”
“Well, Georgia for one.”
“Yeah, obviously,” I say with a smile. Georgia basically recruited him right out the womb. “You don’t want to go there?”
“It’s not that. It’s just,” he takes a deep breath. “I want to say this and not sound awful.”
“Jessup, you can tell me.” Whatever he’s about to say seems to be hard for him to admit.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
I nod.
“My whole family went to Georgia, right? Except Mama. It’s my destiny or some shit to be a Bulldog. With Rollie being there now, it’s hard. My dad was known as ‘white lightning’ and made a name for himself before he got hurt, so it was just expected that all of us would follow suit and my brothers just blindly followed Rowen. No questions asked. I just don’t want to go there.” He lets out a long breath that it seems like he’s been holding onto for a long time.
“Then don’t.”
“It’s not that easy for me, Stanzy,” he sighs.
“Where do you want to go?”
“Cambria. It’s a good school near Boston.”
Completion (Cambria University Series Book 3) Page 7
