by Jillian Dodd
My sleepy eyes are awake enough to see Danny looks great. He’s thrown on shorts over the boxers, but he still has no shirt on.
Damn.
Why, oh why, did he have to pass out?
“You know, Phillip,” Danny says, with a nasty grin, “a lot of girls say that it’s their lifelong fantasy to be with two guys at the same time.”
He turns to me and winks. “What do you say, Jay? This could be your lucky night.”
I’ve known the boy long enough to know when he’s messing with me.
“I’m game,” I say, and quickly sit up in bed. “As a matter of fact, it sounds really hot. Why don’t you two,” I wave my finger back and forth between them, “start by making out, while I watch.”
Danny and Phillip look at each other in disgust, and I smile to myself.
“Aw . . . never mind, Jay,” Danny says, stifling a yawn, “how ’bout we just crash? I’m sleeping here too. Um, our room kinda smells. Good thing you had big plans for tonight, Phillip,” Danny says, elbowing Phillip suggestively and eyeing the bed, “and got the king size bed. Where is your date anyway?”
“Shut up, Danny,” Phillip replies, as he turns off the light.
After that, those boys will tell anyone who will listen about how I “slept” with both of them on prom night.
When I wake up the next morning, instead of being snuggled up to my date, I’m lying on Phillip’s shoulder and wrapped up in his arms.
Really, the same place I’ve slept for the last week.
I move over next to Danny before he wakes up.
Even he doesn’t know about that.
I’m lying on the hammock in my back yard, drinking a diet Coke and flipping through a People magazine. I’m trying not to think about my parents. Trying to pretend it’s just a lazy, spring day. Unfortunately, I keep expecting my Dad to come out on the patio, bottle of beer in hand, with Mom following him, wanting to hear all about Prom.
Life can really suck sometimes.
But I don’t know what I can do about it.
I’ve been feeling really helpless. And a bit lost.
Like I was a little boat that was tied up on shore with all the other boats, but somehow my rope came undone and now I’m out in the middle of the ocean, no land in sight, just floating. Completely untethered to the life I’ve always known.
I told Mr. Diamond that and he pretty much called bullshit.
Told me my parents did so many things for me so that if, God forbid, something like this would happen, then I would be able to keep my house, go to college, and stay with my friends, my support system. He told me they were extremely well-insured, and I would be okay, financially. He told me that he was here for me, and that all my friends are here for me, but that I have to officially grow up now. I have to handle the things my parents always did, like making sure the house gets cleaned, and the lawn gets mowed, and the bills get paid. He says as much as the Macs are trying to protect me, I’m eighteen, and I need to behave like it. He says my parents raised me to be strong, confident, and independent, and that I should do my best to make them proud of me.
And, at the time, I was thinking, okay, maybe I’m not the little boat; maybe I am more like that game we used to play when we were little. Jenga, I think it was called. You stack up all these blocks, and you try to pull them out of the stack one by one. When the stack gets too weak, or you pull out the wrong one and it gets out of balance, the whole stack comes tumbling down, and you lose.
I sorta feel like that is what has been happening to me. Some cosmic force has been pulling out random blocks, trying to get me to cave, to fall down.
But here’s the thing I have decided.
My parents wouldn’t want me to fall down. So I’ll be damned if I will.
But that doesn’t mean I’m still not incredibly, earth-shatteringly sad.
The gate rattles as Danny walks into the back yard.
“Hey,” he says, his hair blowing back in the breeze. He naughtily dives on the hammock, nearly flipping me over, and making me scream in the process.
I lean over to kiss him, but he backs off.
What the hell?
“Jay, we need to talk.”
Great. One date and he’s breaking up with me. Not that we were going out, but you know what I mean. Someone, somewhere, is laughing hilariously, shoving around the blocks of my life.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. I really wanted you to enjoy Prom, and I hope you still had fun.”
“I did have fun, and I really appreciate your begging me to take you,” I joke, but then say seriously, “I don’t think I would have gone otherwise, and I’m glad I didn’t miss it. I have been sitting here thinking a lot about my parents, and I think you were right. They would have wanted me to go.” Then I laugh, “Although Dad always said you were trouble. I wonder what he thinks about me going with you.”
“Your dad loved me.”
“Yeah, I know.” I want to say, I love you too, but I’m afraid he’ll take it wrong and think I’m like in love with him. And, yes, he is super hot and sweet, and I wished for a long time that I could be with him, but I’m not sure if I have much to give right now. And if I’m going to have a relationship with Danny, trust me, giving is what I want to be doing.
I can tell by the look on his face that there’s still something wrong.
What now?
“Something else is bothering you,” I say. “Spill.”
“Jeez, Jay. You just have me so, uh, overwhelmed,” he says, as he runs his hand through that gorgeous hair.
“What do you mean?”
“I just didn’t expect to feel this way about you.”
I’m trying not to ask too many questions. I mean something is clearly bothering the boy, but I’m sorry, I’ve got to ask this one.
“What way is that?”
“Too much. Way too much. And way too fast. Which brings me to my problem.”
Uh, scratch that. I have plenty to give. I don’t see a problem with this.
No problem at all!
But I think I know what the problem is. He feels bad because he passed out last night. I still haven’t decided which one of us should be more embarrassed about that. Him for passing out, or me for getting passed out on. But I’ll tell him that we can soon. Hell, we could go in my house right now and do it if we wanted to.
“Danny, it’s okay, you . . . ”
“Jay, this is hard for me. Just let me finish, okay?”
I nod with my mouth shut.
“Okay, so here it is. You know how I worked hard during spring practice and performed really well in the spring game, and the guy who was the starter last year did really shitty?”
“Yeah.”
What’s this got to do with us?
“Well, I haven’t said anything, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be first on the depth chart this fall.”
It takes a second for that to sink into my brain.
“You mean like The Starting Quarterback at Nebraska? Danny, that’s awesome! It’s huge! It’s what you’ve always wanted; what you’re meant to do.”
“You think so?”
“Uh, yeah. Greatness is in you. Don’t you know that?”
Danny oozes confidence.
“Maybe, but, well, here,” he says shyly.
And he is never shy.
He fishes a folded up piece of paper out of his wallet and hands it to me. “Look at this.”
I unfold the paper and see it’s a picture of me, in my flag bikini top, no less, jumping up to catch a pass with Phillip just behind me.
It’s a really great picture of us.
Weird. I don’t usually photograph so well.
“Where’d you get this?” I study the picture closely. “Hey! This is from that day in Lincoln, when you pissed me off enough to run down the field in my bikini top in front of half the football team. Right?”
“Yeah,” Danny laughs, remembering. “You told me if I missed yo
u that time, you were coming back for my pants.”
“I was serious. Where’d you get this picture?”
“Oh, it seems one of the school paper’s photographers found you a very interesting subject,” he says with one eyebrow raised at me, like he finds this very humorous. “He took a ton of pictures of you and gave me a few of the best. This is my favorite. Oh, and I was supposed to have told you that he wants to go out with you.” He shakes his head at me and teases, “You’ve grown up to be quite the little heartbreaker.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Look at the picture, Jay.”
I do.
“It’s a fun picture. I love the look on Phillip’s face.”
“I mean look at you. You look gorgeous. Perfect.” He lies back on the hammock, pulling me down with him, and says, “You are also looking at my goal. Perfection. Wanna know what I see in the picture?”
I nod yes.
“I see a perfect pass, a perfect catch, and two perfect friends. When I first went to college, I wasn’t throwing well. Probably trying too hard instead of just doing it. But I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, why things weren’t easy anymore. I talked to the team shrink, and he asked me if I’d ever used positive visualization. Of course I had. In B-ball, Coach K was always telling us to picture ourselves making every shot at night before we went to sleep. In fact, our team motto was If you can dream it, you can do it. And in high school, whenever I was flustered or out of sync, I would just picture myself throwing to you and Phillip in the yard. It relaxed me. I realized I hadn’t been doing that or having much fun playing lately. He told me to focus on a time I threw a perfect pass and to picture that in my mind when I start to get out of sync.”
He pauses and points to the picture in my hand.
“This is the picture I visualize. When I think of us playing catch, I relax and have fun with the game. I’m on target.”
I raise one eyebrow at that boy. “All the millions of times we’ve played catch and I have to be in a bikini in this visual? Isn’t there something kind of sick and twisted in that?”
“Maybe,” he laughs. “I’ll never forget the first time Phillip and I saw you in that bikini. You had been lying out, and you were covered in oil. I think I had to bribe you to come play catch with us. But man, when you walked through that gate in that bikini, glistening in the sun, Phillip and I both just stood there in shock. I think it was the first time I really realized you were a girl—a hot girl.” He smirks at me. “Well, and maybe a bit during your kissing lessons.”
“Lesson,” I remind him. Only one.
“I know I was sure jealous when you asked if we thought Jake would like it. If I remember right, Phillip practically told you it looked awful. He didn’t want you wearing it for Jake either.”
He pauses and grins. “I kinda have a thing for that bikini and, well, the American flag in general now, as a matter of fact.”
Then he catches me by surprise and pulls me into a wonderful, sweet, and way too short kiss. He shakes his head at me, like he just can’t decide what to do and says, “Last night, I, um . . . God, this is way harder than I thought it would be.”
I am about to make a naughty joke about what might be harder than it should be and suggest we maybe check it out in my bedroom. But as I am about to open my mouth, he pulls me into his arms and kisses me again, and for once in my life, I don’t say a thing.
I am so proud of my restraint.
Maybe I will reward myself with some chocolate later.
We lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms for a while, before he speaks again.
“I think you’re awesome, Jay.”
I hear a big but coming . . .
“But I don’t think we should date.”
I knew it. Fuck.
“Why?”
He sighs. “Part of me thinks we’d be great together, but I know we’d fight. You know how we fight.”
“Yeah, I know how we fight,” I laugh. “Danny, I don’t understand. You love a challenge. Why do you always date girls who worship you? Where’s the challenge in that?”
“There isn’t one—that’s the point. I have enough challenge in other areas of my life. With the girls I date, I just want simple, smooth, and easy.” His hand goes out in front of him, making a calm water gesture.
“Easy to get along with or just plain easy?”
“Both is good.” He laughs. “But, either way, not words I would use to describe you. Oh, I don’t know,” he shakes his head, “a lot could happen. But I do know this. If we dated, it would ruin the picture. Probably ruin my game.”
Football. There’s the real reason!
Doesn’t that just suck!
Then he adds sweetly, “But, most importantly, I’m afraid it would ruin us. I love you, Jay. I love our friendship,” he shakes his head and closes his eyes, “and I really, really, don’t want to do anything to screw it up.”
Figures.
The one nice guy I try to date is too nice.
Thank God he passed out last night, and we didn’t have sex.
“Danny,” I say diplomatically, “in the last eight days, I’ve gotten dumped by my boyfriend for a slut, buried both my parents, and,” I smile at him, “just recently learned one of my best friends has a sick perversion for me. I really don’t think I could handle a relationship right now.”
I’m totally lying. I could so handle a relationship with Danny. Well, I think I could. Really, I don’t know. But I let him off the hook because I don’t want to ruin our friendship either. I seriously don’t know what I would do without him and Phillip.
Especially now.
He kisses me on the cheek and gets off the hammock, being careful not to tip me. “You know you love me.”
“Yeah, I know. And you’re damned lucky I do.”
Cuz he is.
“Here’s a thought,” he adds seriously.
“Yeah?”
“You’d be good with Phillip.”
And with that, he left.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
ΑΒΓΔΕΖΙΤΚΛΜΝΞΟΠΡΣΤΥΧΖΦΗΧΩ
It’s all Greek to me!
The rest of my senior year flew by. I slowly adjusted to not having my parents around, but it was hard. Sadly, what they say is true. Life does go on all around you, whether you want it to or not. I’m trying to take it day by day. Some are better than others because I have this constant empty ache inside of me, but I keep going. Phillip and Danny’s families have been awesome, though, and I haven’t ever felt completely alone, like I was so afraid I would. Before I knew it, I was a high school graduate and then down in Lincoln and officially a college girl!
Choosing the University of Nebraska as my college was pretty much a no-brainer. It has a beautiful campus, outstanding academics and, well, the Huskers. I mean, I couldn’t imagine myself at another school, going to a football game and cheering for their team. Especially now that Danny is the starting quarterback. Phillip is here too, so that made the choice even easier.
I’m living in a dorm with a pretty cool roommate. At least, she seems that way so far. We went through rush together, and even though we pledged different sororities, we are getting along well. We have similar backgrounds, having both grown up in small towns. We like boys and clothes, and thank God, she hates mornings almost as much as I do.
Oh, and newsflash: I’ve started going by my real name, Jadyn, instead of JJ. I think it sounds much more mature.
Phillip blew out his knee playing basketball this past summer and isn’t going to walk-on the Husker football team as originally planned. He’s okay with not playing football anymore. He went through rush and ended up pledging the same fraternity that our dads were in. Our dads always had great, wild stories about their time here, and I’m sure we only heard the watered-down, tame versions of most of them.
Tonight I’m going to experience a wild fraternity party firsthand.
At least I hope it’s wild!
; Phillip’s frat is hosting a party tonight, and apparently most fraternity parties have some kind of theme. Some of the themed parties they’re hosting this year are: Secs and Execs (everyone dresses up as business people), Get Lei-d (obviously a Hawaiian party), Heaven and Hell (where’s Mary Beth Parker when you need her?), Around the World (which has something to do with drinking a different shot in every room of the frat house), and, of course, the timeless favorite, Toga.
This one is called Frosh Frenzy.
All week, Phillip has been forced to interview freshmen girls. I say forced because the pledges have to, but it’s not like Phillip minds. Interviewing is a great excuse to start talking to a cute girl. He has this little notebook, and he has to fill out a sheet on each girl he interviews. They’re kind of like the slam books that we had in ninth grade. The pledge asks each girl a variety of questions. Innocent things like name, hometown, high school activities. And what they call vital statistics, like cup size, height and weight, hair color, phone number. And then personal information, like what you like in a guy, your idea of a great first date, how far you will let a guy go on the first date, things like that. This part varies and tends to border on the risqué.
The interview process is supposedly a time-honored tradition. I remember Dad telling me that he met Mom when he interviewed her, but I had always thought maybe he worked on the school newspaper or something.
Now I understand and, quite frankly, I really wish I knew what she said because my dad was a total catch.
Phillip told me the interviewing process helps the pledges get to know their fellow classmates. I pointed out to him, very sarcastically, that if they really were trying to get to know their fellow classmates, they would interview a few fellows. But he just laughed at me.
Of course, all freshmen girls, me included, are intrigued by the fraternity system and eager to answer the questions.
Especially from adorable Phillip.
And he is adorable. I mean, Phillip has always been a very cute boy, but he seems to be getting even better looking the older he gets. He’s leapfrogged the line separating cute from hot and has landed deeply into hot territory. I swear, if he keeps this up, I may just have to keep him for myself.
