The Keeper

by Jillian Liota

  “What?”

  “Are you going to think about it? About going on a date with him?”

  “What? Why? Do you want me to go on a date with him?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Mack, I was obviously going to tell him no, which is why he told me to think about it.” My response is slightly clipped, and even though I regret it slightly, I’m also frustrated at Mack’s implication.

  He sighs.

  “I just worry, is all.”

  “About what?”

  “You’re 21 and you’re in college and you should be enjoying yourself if guys ask you out. And I’m older than you and you have to keep anything between us a secret. I don’t want you to miss out on fun in college.”

  I laugh. I feel bad laughing when his tone is so concerned and thoughtful, but he still clearly has a lot to learn about me.

  “Mack, where are you right now?”

  “I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot outside of Target.”

  “Can you meet me somewhere?”

  “Anywhere,” he responds, lightning fast, like he has nowhere else in the world he wants to be other than next to me, wherever I am.

  Fifteen minutes later, I pull my car into a space in front of the Glendale Recreation Centre. When I walk towards the main building, I can see Mack in a secluded corner, leaning on the backrest of a bench seat on the other side of a fountain.

  I should notice what perfect weather we are having, or the cute kids running around on the grass in the park across the street, or even the fact that the water in the fountain is a really strange color blue. But the only thing I can focus on is the man over there that I want next to me and the steps I need to take towards him to make that happen.

  When I’m within a few feet of him, he looks up from his phone. His eyes flicker over my face and down my body and then back up to meet my eyes again. But in just those few seconds I’ve already eaten up the pavement between us and I’m slinging my arms around his neck and pulling him close to me.

  “I just want to be clear about something,” I whisper into his ear.

  His hands brace on my back, his hold strong, his head tilted down and mouth resting on the space between my shoulder and neck.

  “I don’t miss out on things because I have to keep us a secret.” I lean back in his hold, just enough to look into his eyes. “I’ve gone on first dates with five guys since I started college. Things happen around me that I don’t care about. I was never really invested or interested, so I’ve never considered myself to be someone that’s missing out. I had other things to focus on.”

  My hands move to his neck, my thumbs reaching and lightly touching that day-old scruff on his jawline that I love so much.

  “But you, I care about. With you, I’d be missing out.” I lean closer and lightly press my lips to his. “I’m invested.” Kiss. “And interested.” Kiss. Kiss. “And my focus is on you.”

  Mack’s eyes search mine for just a second before his lips tick up just slightly, and he presses our mouths together again. They part on an exhale, and it feels like we are breathing assurance into each other’s bodies.

  My hands stay gripped on his neck and my fingers twine into the short pieces of hair I can reach. I hold his face to mine because I want this glorious kiss to go on and on. And on.

  “I’ve never felt like this,” I whisper, as his kisses begin moving along my jawline and down my neck. “Never. About anyone.”

  “Me either.”

  He rests his forehead against mine, but keeps his eyes open. He stares into my eyes as his hands drift, slowly but with confidence, down my sides, coasting over my hips, and then back to my ass.

  He grips me tightly and then walks me backwards a few steps until I feel my back pressed on scratchy stucco wall of the Recreation Centre building. His mouth returns to my neck, where he licks and sucks, causing me to moan and squirm.

  I can feel him pressed up against me, hard and firm, and I drop my hand between us almost out of instinct.

  “Fuck,” he hisses out as my hand rubs against him through his jeans. He moans and rolls his hips, his head falling back just slightly, his teeth biting into his bottom lip. I love that I can do this to him, that I can make him swear and moan and pant for me. It’s empowering and I almost get just as turned on as when he’s focused on me.

  But then he’s stepping back and away from my body, and I’m instantly hit with the cool air around us in the shade of the building. Then, just as quickly, I’m flooded with heat as my blood flushes my neck and cheeks.

  Mack adjusts his jeans and rubs a hand over his face as he takes deep, long breaths.

  “As amazing as that was, we should probably cool it on the physical stuff, right?” he asks.

  I swallow - or, I try to swallow but I end up making an awkward gulping sound instead - and nod, still trying to catch my own breath.

  “Sorry if I pushed too far,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

  Mack laughs, more to himself than at me.

  “RJ, you could never… and I mean never… push us too far,” he says, taking steps back towards me and wrapping me in his arms. “I just want to make sure you realize I’m in this because of who you are and how I feel when I’m around you. Not just because I want in your pants.”

  “But it’s still a little bit about getting in my pants, right?” I ask with a cheeky grin.

  He laughs again and kisses the top of my head.

  “You are too much.” He steps back and takes my hand. “Lets get you home, miss.”

  I smile up at him and grip his hand tightly as he walks me back to my car.

  * * * * *

  The rest of my Sunday passes far too quickly, mostly due to the fact that Mack ended up coming over. We watched episodes of The Walking Dead that we’ve both already seen before and snacked on popcorn. But mostly we laid head-to-toe with each other and just talked about things.

  Like Cherise and her boys and what little menaces they are. About Charlie and how close she and I are. Essentially, we talk about almost everything.

  Well… everything except for two topics.

  Mack’s accident and the things right before and right after it.

  And my dad’s alcoholism and the abuse Mack observed, as well as anything associated to that.

  Those two items stay firmly on the do not discuss shelf.

  When it finally hits around 11pm, we call it a night. Mack gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek and on the lips before heading home.

  And then I run frantically around my apartment trying to catch up on everything I didn’t do.

  On Monday, after another afternoon training filled with sneaking glances at each other, I’m sitting in front of the practice field waiting for Jeremy to pick me up when I get a text from Mack. My heart leaps when I see his name on my screen.

  Mack: So date night with Jer?

  Me: Yeah. Weekly thing, you know?

  Mack: Family first. I get it. But don’t forget that I want to take you on another date soon.

  My cheeks flush and a smile breaks out on my face as I remember our conversation from the night before. He told me he’d have to figure out the logistics, but that it was important to him to take me out and show me he was also ‘invested.’ Swoon. But before I can craft a response, a new message pops up.

  Mack: Love that smile.

  I snap my head up and glance around. After a few seconds, I see him walking across the parking lot. He’s freshly showered and wearing low slung track pants with a charcoal gray Glendale hoodie. Even from this sideways vantage point, I can see the smile on his face, a reserved grin that makes my heart race. And it only picks up when he turns his head slightly and we lock eyes.

  A quick honk drags my eyes to Jeremy in the SUV idling at the curb. I lean down to grab my bag and trot quickly to Jeremy’s car.

  “Hey Jer!” I sing out, tossing my duffle into the back and clicking into the seat belt.
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br />   “Hey,” he says, hesitantly.

  When I glance up at him, I see him watching me with a curious expression, his brow furrowed. Then I watch as his eyes dart forward, out the windshield. To Mack. When he looks back at me, I see something between curiosity and disbelief.

  When he caught us outside my apartment last week, I was pretty sure he understood that there was something between me and Mack that was deeper than an appropriate coach/athlete relationship. But maybe he assumed his forceful approach to that conversation would squash things.

  He assumed wrong.

  “We heading to The Shop or what?” I ask, my voice still light, refusing to give into whatever stupid conversation he wants to have.

  He just nods, putting the car into drive.

  The ride to my favorite burrito place, which is a convenient ten minute walk from my apartment, is pretty silent. Almost awkwardly silent. I pass the time by flicking through emails on my phone.

  I don’t like this feeling. Jeremy and I have almost no secrets. We don’t get into real arguments. We don’t even really get frustrated with each other very often. It’s like we’ve always had this ‘us against Frank Jameson’ mentality that keeps us on the same page, always at each others’ back, no matter what. Our fight last week was incredibly uncharacteristic. For both of us.

  But I can feel it brewing. An argument I don’t want to have. He’s going to say something about Mack, and I don’t want to talk to him about Mack.

  Mack is my secret. I don’t necessarily want him to be a secret, like some clandestine affair. But there’s something about keeping our relationship close to my chest that makes me feel like I’m cradling something sacred and special.

  Something mine.

  So many things that have been important to me have been taken away. I don’t want this to follow suit. This pseudo-relationship-thing Mack and I have is the most beautiful thing to happen to me in… well, in a long ass time, if I am being entirely honest.

  And I don’t want Jeremy to shit all over my beautiful.

  We sit, we order, we snack on chips and make small talk about Jeremy’s game that Charlie and I attended. I’m just taking a huge, very unfeminine bite of my burrito when my phone dings. It’s sitting on the table, face-down. My eyes look at it, then up to Jeremy. His eyes narrow just a bit. There’s a pause, a lull, before we both scramble forward to grab the phone.

  And Jeremy snatches it up right before my hand can get to it.

  He takes one glance at the screen and mumbles an angry, “Shit” before slamming the phone down on the table in front of me, face-up. I don’t look down at it. Jeremy’s gaze is locked on mine, and he. Is. Pissed.

  “Look at it, Rachel.”

  My eyes drop reluctantly down, and I see the words displayed on the lock screen.

  Mack: Wish you were here.

  When I look back up at Jeremy, he is rubbing his hand across his stubbled jaw.

  “You said nothing was going on. Go ahead and tell me this means nothing, because that is so fucking far from what it looks like, I don’t know how you could even try to pretend.”

  I say nothing, my eyes staring at the now black screen on my phone. Wish you were here. I can’t help the small smile that sits on my face. And I know Jeremy sees it.

  He leans forward in his seat, hands clasped in front of him on the table.

  “How much more clear can I be, Rachel? He’s your coach. He’s crazy. And he’s in it for one thing. I can’t believe you’re being so stupid right now.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I want you to tell me you’re not making a horrible, horrible mistake.” He shakes his head, looking at me with frustration and disappointment.

  Disappointment.

  Something I never thought I would see on his face when he’s looking at me.

  “I don’t feel like I’m making a mistake.” My voice is just more than a whisper. It’s been a long time since someone has made me feel this small with just one sentence and a stare. Even my dad hasn’t done this in years.

  He shakes his head again.

  “You’re wrong. You can’t see it, because you’re only thinking about the emotions you’re feeling. But let me tell you what emotions you’re going to be feeling when you and Mack are found out. Embarrassment for having an affair with your coach. Shame for being kicked off the team. Guilt for Mack losing his job. And crippling fear for your future, because you won’t have one.”

  “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” I ask, trying to find a way to shift the tone of what is clearly becoming a chance for Jeremy to rip into me.

  Inside, I’m kicking myself for even asking that question when just over a week ago, Charlie and I were having the same conversation. Only then, I had been the one pointing out all of the consequences of something happening between us.

  “No. Not at all.” His response is quick and bold. There’s no room for argument. “You are making a mistake. And you will regret it.”

  It sounds like a threat. And that straightens my spine just a bit.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation,” I say, scooting out of the booth. “Not with you. Not ever.” I pull a twenty dollar bill from the wallet clip on the back of my cell phone, throwing it on the table.

  “You have no idea what Mack and I have. We may crash and burn, but he means something to me. I’m not going to just give up and not try because I’m scared of what might happen to me or who might be disappointed in my decisions. You know who has to live with the choices I make? Me. I do. Not you. So I am only going to say this one time, Jeremy.”

  I lean forward and stare him right in the eyes.

  “This is none of your business, and I don’t want to hear a word about it from you again. Stay the fuck out of it.”

  I stand back up and walk away. Out the front door without letting him respond. My anger burns off quickly as I hit the pavement and walk down the street in the direction of my apartment.

  I hate to say it, but the walk home isn’t as satisfying as I wish it could have been.

  * * * * *

  My stomach rolls, the nausea building quickly, as I look down at the phone in my hand.

  I can’t believe I just did that.

  I’m sitting on the bench next to the practice field, my duffle at my feet, fully dressed for practice, nearly an hour early. But I’m not here to get in some extra practice with my teammates, or to jog the field and stretch to warm up. I’m sitting here because I literally feel like I have nowhere else to go.

  “Amy, I don’t know what to do.”

  It was the tone of his voice that stopped me dead in my tracks when I dropped by his office just a few minutes ago. I was walking down the hallway with a happy heart and a smile on my face. If anyone had seen me, they would just assume Coach McIntosh was having a meeting with one of his players to talk about strategy or injury or a million other things. His door was cracked open just slightly, and I had just reached up to knock when I heard him.

  “Amy, I don’t know what to do.”

  He sounded devastated. Overwhelmed. Confused. How I was able to pull all of those emotions out of one sentence, I’m not sure. But it was all there. I knew I was encroaching on something private, something personal. Never one to seek out gossip, I had spun on my toes and was just about to walk away from his door and give him privacy when he spoke again. If he had just waited a few more seconds, I wouldn’t have made a horrible decision.

  “Even if my job is on the line?”

  I froze. Incapable of moving forward. My eyes wide, I kept them focused down the hallway, away from Mack’s door, and yet every nerve in my body was pulling me backwards to hear more. I took one step back. And then another. And another. Until I was standing directly in front of his office, leaning towards the crack in the doorway, straining to hear him speak again. I wondered if I had heard him correctly, and silently prayed that I hadn’t.

 
“Yeah, last night at my house. I was shocked, but what can I do?”

  And then there was silence when all I wanted was to read the thoughts in his mind and know what was happening. Even having heard that much, I still should have left. Why didn’t I just leave? Instead, I inched my head closer, trying to see in through the opening between the door and the jamb. Mack’s office came into view, and my heart broke when I saw him. He was at his desk, one hand to his ear holding his cell phone, the other bracing his head in place. His fingers were twisted into the hair at the crown of his head, his eyes shut tight as he listened.

  “But I don’t…” Pause. “I don’t want to just call it off. I can figure it out.”

  I swallowed so audibly, I was shocked he couldn’t hear it from where he sat just ten feet away. It clicked in an instant. His job was on the line because of me. Something had happened. Something was making him worry about us continuing whatever we were doing.

  But he was confused about what to do? He should just end it! We shouldn’t be doing this! My head was screaming at me to step into his office and tell him we should call it off, take a break, avoid each other, anything. He would understand if I explained it. But then he exhaled with a whoosh, and said three words that made me realize that he would never understand.

  “She’s worth it.”

  I gasped. That’s how shocked I was. I literally gasped like some stupid weak housewife in a 50’s movie. I then took several large, purposeful steps away from the door, turned and bolted down the hallway. When I finally reached the practice field, I felt like I had sprinted the entire way without taking a breath.

  “She’s worth it.”

  He said those words. He’d implied he would take on whatever shit storm would rain down on him if word got out about our involvement. But that shit storm would rain onto me as well. In that moment, I should have had normal, altruistic emotions about wanting to protect Mack and his job and reputation.