The Campus Jock: A College Bad Boy Romance

by Serena Silver

  “I don’t know. Who knows. I guess I should have read all those books my mom gave me,” he chuckled a little, hoping to help the moment blow over, and was relieved to see Larissa smile and go back to her wine. He changed the subject quickly and hadn’t returned to it since that night.

  How could he ever tell anyone what he truly believed? He hadn’t even had the courage to admit it out loud to himself. Even so, somewhere deep down he knew. He also knew how crazy it sounded.

  He knew she was dead. He remembered the night she died more vividly than he cared to. He thought about it all the time. He even dreamt about it.

  He was driving home from work and saw fire trucks speed past him. He was about a half-mile from home. He watched them make a left down his street. At the time, he had assumed it was a coincidence. He hadn’t given it a second thought.

  A minute or two later, though, as he turned the corner onto his street, his stomach dropped. All the air squeezed out of him. He saw the trucks parked in front of his house. Smoke was billowing from the windows with an urgency that hinted at the enormity of what must be happening inside. Ben leaped out of his car without putting it in park. Later, the cops would find it gently tucked into the neighbor’s hedges. He ran across his front lawn towards the house. All he could think of was Juliana. She hadn’t called him since he left the office, and he couldn’t see her anywhere, which only meant one thing. She was still inside. He had to get to her. He had to help her.

  Even as he approached the front porch, he felt the heat and smoke threatening his breathing. He jumped over the stairs on the stoop and caught his first glimpse of what used to be his living room. It was full of angry red flames and thick black smoke. The firemen had already taken down the front door, so he was able to take a few steps inside before they saw him and grabbed him.

  They screamed in his face and told him to get out. He knew he should, but through a mass of smoke and flame, he saw Juliana sitting at the bottom of the stairs. She looked unresponsive as if she were in a trance. He called out to her, and her eyes snapped in his direction. Ben saw her looking for him. He fought harder to get to her, trying to break free from the fireman’s grasp, but it was impossible.

  She seemed so close to him, just a couple of yards away, and yet so far from his reach. He called to her again, and this time she saw him. To his horror, he saw her stand up and leap into the flames that were separating them. The two firemen who had been holding him back immediately let him go and ran into the flames to pull Juliana to safety. Ben tried to follow, but after a single step into the heat and smoke, he fell to the floor. He coughed a few times and tried to right himself. He felt a strong, gloved hand pick him up and throw him towards the door. Ben crawled outside and rolled down the front stoop stairs onto the lawn while a fireman ran past him with his wife slung over one shoulder.

  They carried her out to the lawn and yelled for the stretcher. As it was on its way, Ben stood and staggered over to the fireman holding his wife. He grabbed Juliana. As best he could, he held her close to him. She was taking raspy, ragged breaths and could not support her head. She was badly burned. Her eyes were open and looking frantically around her. Ben was calling her name. She couldn’t seem to locate where his voice was coming from. He could tell by the way the firemen were acting that her condition was poor.

  He leaned close to her and kissed her just as he heard her try to pull air into her lungs for the last time. The firemen pulled her away from him and strapped her into the stretcher, but Ben could feel that it was too late. He watched the life leave her eyes as they rushed the stretcher into the fire department ambulance. They sped her to the closest hospital immediately, but Ben already knew that was the last time he would see his wife alive. He knelt in the grass for the next few minutes until the paramedics led him to their vehicle to examine him. They asked him questions, poked and prodded, but he couldn’t respond. All he could think about was his wife. All he could see was Juliana’s lifeless body being carried to the ambulance.

  Then he had laid her to rest. The whole process, the ritual of it all, was familiar, which was helpful. At the very least, it gave him something to do for the next week. There were tasks to take care of, so he had to get out of bed in the morning. There were decisions he had to make and things he had to arrange so he couldn’t spend every moment thinking about the fire. No part of it came close to healing him, though.

  First, he held a wake. It was horribly painful. He barely remembered anyone who came. To him, it was just a sea of faces that lined up to shake his hand and awkwardly offer their condolences.

  He does remember sitting next to his wife’s closed casket after everyone had left. That was the first moment that it had felt real. It was lonely, of course, because she couldn’t speak back to him and he couldn’t touch her, but he could still sit with her.

  He spoke to her for a while. He told her about the wake as best he could remember. He even tried to open the casket to peek inside, but it was sealed shut. That was probably for the best, he decided, because he didn’t want to see her as she was. He wanted to remember her as she had been.

  The funeral was next. His mom came to the house beforehand to help him get ready. She dressed him in his suit, leading him into it one limb at a time just like she had when his dad died as a little boy. She held him close and told him that she loved him, kissed his head, and whispered that she was there for him.

  Ben appreciated her efforts, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He was scared that if he opened his mouth to say anything his grief would start overflowing he wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

  Juliana’s mother and sister came to the house as well. They seemed almost as beat up as he was, but they expressed it in a very different way. As much as Ben had been quiet and reserved about his grief, they were the opposite. They screamed and cried, unfiltered. He was impressed with how they were able to express their feelings so truthfully.

  They searched the house for her stuff and took some of her clothes. Ben was fine with that; he knew that they were probably the only people hurting as much as he was. He wanted to help them any way he could. He also felt like he owed them something. As much as they insisted that they didn’t blame him, he couldn’t accept it. He would always blame himself.

  Ben had planned a eulogy. He wrote out a few thoughts on a scrap piece of paper and wanted to speak about his wonderful wife in front of everyone at the funeral. But when it came time, he couldn’t do it. He stood up at the podium and felt as though he were missing a part of himself. Not just Juliana, but the confidence she gave him. She made him feel smart, funny, and brave. With her behind him, he felt as though he could do anything. But now, with her gone, he was empty. He was weak. He was at the front of the room for almost a solid minute, standing in silence before his mother came up beside him to say some words on his behalf. When the eulogy was over, he left without speaking to anyone.

  Finally, there was the burial. That was the worst part. Up until then, he still had something of his wife to hold on to. But now, he was burying the last bit of her six feet under.

  Just like that, she was gone. She was lowered into the ground as a stranger said a few words. Ben threw a handful of dirt on her and tried to wrap his mind around his wife staying in this hole, covered in dirt, laying among all these dead people in various stages of decay for the rest of time.

  He had seen all this with his own eyes, so he knew that Juliana was in the cemetery downtown, lying in a box underground. Rationally, he knew she wasn’t with him in their house anymore. She couldn’t be. But he also knew that some part of Juliana had never left the house. Not really. He believed this just as firmly as he believed she was dead. Now she was trying to reach him, and because of that, he couldn’t leave.

  He had to stay to meet her, especially because he was the one who had been unable to save her. She was just a few feet from him, and he failed to get her to safety. It was because of him that she was dead, and if she were reaching out to him from the other side
, he had to stay to receive her messages. He had failed her in life, but through some miracle, he was given a chance to be there for her in death. This time, he had to succeed.

  It started slowly. He had heard her voice a few times. Once, he was sure he heard her humming from the other room. She always hummed to herself when she was folding laundry or cleaning. It had sounded so close that for a second he thought she was just around the corner, folding towels, waiting for him. Hopeful, he went into the laundry room only to find it empty and silent.

  He had seen her a couple of times, out of the corner of his eye or at a distance down the hall. From the first time he saw her, he was sure it was his Juliana. Even as a spirit, or a ghost, or a shadow of herself, or whatever else her current form could be referred to she was unmistakable to him. He knew every curve of her body better than she did herself. He would recognize his wife’s beauty in any condition.

  Then there were sure signs. If he moved something in the house, it would be moved back by the time he got home from work. It startled him at first. He thought he was losing his mind. But after a few tests, he knew that something supernatural was happening while he was gone during the day. He quickly came to realize that all the furniture and every piece of décor that Juliana had put in the house had to remain just where she had left it.

  After the fire, he had asked his mother to buy him replicas of what they’d had before after the fire. She hesitated, and probably even called the therapist to get his opinion, but in the end, she agreed to do it. She understood that he was mourning, and having such a large change thrust upon him just wanted to keep everything he possibly could exactly the same.

  Weeks later, though, he had attempted to make a small change. He had never understood the purpose of books no one ever read laid out on the coffee table, and now that he was living alone, it seemed odd to have fashion and interior decorating books as a centerpiece. So he stacked them up and moved them to the bookshelf along the wall. When he got home from work that night, they were back on the table as if he’d never touched them. He felt connected to Juliana, in a way, once he came to the conclusion that she was behind this. It was a way for them to communicate. So he would play games with her. Sometimes he would make subtle changes to see if she would notice. He would switch two candles in the bedroom or turn books upside down. When he got home from work, he would rush over to see if Juliana had righted them. She always did.

  Lights would turn on and off throughout the house by themselves. Sometimes they would flicker with no clear pattern, but sometimes they would turn on and off as if someone were moving around the house at night. As with everything else, it was a little unnerving at first, but once he was used to it, it was comforting. It was like living with Juliana again.

  When he was alone watching basketball games on TV at night the channel would change, usually to a home improvement show or a sitcom. That one made him laugh. Juliana always hated watching sports. Sometimes he would watch the show for a few minutes because he knew that would make her happy.

  While all of these small signs made him miss his wife to varying degrees, what broke his heart the most was something that happened regularly while he was cooking dinner. The first time it happened he called the store. He had just bought these appliances, the old ones were destroyed in the fire. They were brand new, and there was no reason they should be malfunctioning already. The second time, though, he knew it was her. For a moment it was as if she were there with him, and he felt her smiling, placing her hands on his sides and squeezing him a bit, telling him to be more careful. Juliana’s spirit, somehow, had turned the stove off when he left the room.

  Ben sat up and swung his feet onto the cold wood floor. He closed his eyes for a moment and tried, as he did every morning, to gather the strength to get out of bed. Larissa sensed that he was lost in his thoughts.

  “You ok?” she reached over a rubbed his back a bit over his tight white undershirt.

  “Yeah,” he shook her off and stood up without looking at her. It felt strange to have another woman’s hands on him while he was thinking about his wife. Even after a year, he still wasn’t used to it. He paused for a moment and considered explaining his sudden abruptness to Larissa, but couldn’t bring himself to get into it.

  “I’m going to get ready for work,” he said, heading across the room toward the bathroom. Larissa laid her head back down on the pillow and sighed. She knew he was in one of his moods, and that it would be best for her to leave. She got out of bed and started gathering her things.

  Ben flicked the bathroom lights on and shut the door behind him. He didn’t want Larissa coming in and talking to him about anything. He didn’t have the patience to deal with it right now.

  He rested his hands on the cold white marble countertop that Juliana had picked out. He sighed at the dual sinks and gazed into the mirror at the shower and bathtub behind him. A bathroom built for two.

  Juliana designed the whole thing for them before they moved into the house. When they bought it, it was their dream house. Everything was perfect except for the bathroom, which was a bit outdated. Ben loved being able to give Juliana a room to make her own. She was so excited to design it for them. Seeing it now still brought him pain.

  He moved slowly across the tile and reached into the glass shower to turn on the water. As he grabbed the steel handle, he felt it turn in his hand. He pulled his hand back in surprise and was momentarily knocked off balance. He quickly realized what was going on. He knew what he had to do.

  He acted fast. He was getting better at connecting with her. Like the last few times he had seen her, or she had touched him, he closed his eyes and reached out to Juliana with his mind and his soul. He tried to see if he could feel her. This was the hardest part. Usually when he reached for her like this, they would have a short moment together before she would slip away. When that happened, it was as if he had woken from a dream and she was just beyond his reality, just out of reach. He never knew when the last of these moments would be. He fought hard for each one because he feared that one day she would be gone forever.

  He frantically pulled off his clothes and stepped into the shower to be with her. He kept his eyes closed and immersed himself under the showerhead, concentrating as hard as he could on connecting with her. Amid the din of the water pounding on his head, he heard a giggle. He smiled. It was her. He could feel her in front of him. He leaned against her and thought back to all the times he had snuck into the shower with her. She had that same laugh. He reached forward and, with his eyes still closed, embraced her. Just like she always had, she fit so perfectly in his arms, formed so comfortably against him. That was his favorite reason to believe they were soulmates. There was no question that each of their bodies was specifically made to fit the other. He nuzzled her neck and ran his hands over her naked, wet skin. He pressed against her and felt himself getting hard. She smiled and wondered how far he could go with this. He opened his eyes to see her...

  And just like that, she was gone. He couldn’t feel her anymore, and he was left alone in the bathroom.

  “Julie,” he whispered, the silent tears that ran down his face mixing with water and flowing down the drain.

  Chapter Three: A Reconnection

  Juliana tossed in her bed, unable to sleep. This was common; sometimes she spent the entire night awake, her mind reminiscing on her life and of course, thinking about Ben.

  Suddenly, she heard something from the hallway. It was unmistakable. It was the unique shuffle of Ben’s footfalls against the hardwood floor.

  “Ben?” she tried, hoping for an answer.

  “Coming,” he replied. She heard him getting closer. She hung onto the thought of him, hoping that this time he would make it into the room to see her before he disappeared.

  “Hey babe,” he hung in the doorway for a moment and rested a hand on the top of the doorjamb. His broad shoulders filled the space, filtering the light that was spilling in from the hallway. He looked right at her. His brown hair w
as a mess, as it usually was now, and his undershirt was wrinkled. His brown eyes, though, were just as full of lust and animalistic passion as she remembered them to be.

  “Ben,” Juliana’s eyes watered with happiness. This didn’t feel like any brushes of contact they’d had before. She could tell this was different. For some reason, she knew he wasn’t disappearing anytime soon.

  “You look amazing,” he said. His eyes were laser focused on her. She was still in shock.

  “Oh honey, this?” She pushed down the duvet and looked down briefly at the tattered, floor length nightgown she’d been wearing to bed every night since the accident. She would have been embarrassed, but she knew Ben thought she was beautiful in anything.

  She held her breath as Ben came closer. The briefs he was wearing were new. He’d always worn loose boxers when they were together. Now, he was wearing a tight pair of briefs that clung to him in all the right places. Unlike his hair and his clothes, which he had let become a big ratty, his body was as tight as ever. He looked amazing. He was strong, but not overly muscular. He was just defined enough for Juliana’s taste. He stood next to the bed and smiled down at her.

  “Well, don’t just sit there,” he invited.

  Juliana laughed. Even after all of this, he was right back to being the same old Ben. She crawled on her hands and knees and met him at the edge of the bed. She ran her hands up his strong thighs and over his tight briefs, glancing up at him and biting her lip. As she did, she saw his bulge stiffen and start to rise. She pulled his briefs down slowly, teasing him a bit as she set him free.

  Ben sighed and ran his fingers through her hair. He arched his back moaned, gently pulling her closer. Juliana knew what he wanted, but she wasn’t going to give it to him yet. She reached up and drew her nails down his broad chest to just above his dick. She paused for a moment before taking it in her hands. She stroked him gently, lightly; this was more of a tease than anything else.