by K. S. Adkins
I wasn’t that arrogant kid in college anymore and I needed her to know that. I needed to show her I could be the good guy she expected me to be. Hopefully she wasn’t too pissed at me showing up to forgive me because I wasn’t leaving until she did.
His name was Sydney, I had been on three dates with him when we were walking in to Mercury Bar to eat before our concert. To say I was pumped to see Pearl Jam was an understatement. He had his arm over my shoulder while we waited for a table and I liked that he was slightly taller than me. Over the years I had tried giving guys shorter than me a shot but the height issue bothered me too much to make one stick.
Laughing at one of his jokes, I look up at him to fire one back when I see Roman in a booth with one other guy and three girls. Nice ratio I think to myself adding an imaginary eye roll. Paying their bill, Roman stands up first and zeroed in on me. I didn’t want him to notice me, I didn’t want his attention or his wrath. With him I never knew which way it would go. “She does come out to play,” he says sizing Sydney up. “Roman Peterson,” he says, extending his hand to my date. “Sydney Green,” he says, offering his. “Where are you two kids headed tonight?”
“Pearl Jam,” says Sydney saving me from speaking.
“Is that right?” he laughs. “Make sure Cinderella gets home before she turns into a pumpkin.”
His crew laughs at his stupid joke and when he walks out the door then turns to wink at me, I lose it. “Excuse me,” I say to Sydney throwing the door open. “Hey! Roman!” I shout. “Hold up.”
“Shouldn’t you be in there on your date with Sheila?” he laughs and the dipshits laugh with him. Knowing my book smarts bothered him, I let him have it in front of his band of fools. “Cinderella was a European folk tale from the Grimm Brothers collection. Cinderella by analogy has come to mean one whose attributes were unrecognized, or one who unexpectedly achieves recognition or success after a period of obscurity. That’s me for you slow people. She was portrayed as beautiful, of unparalleled goodness and a sweet temper,” I say all in one breath. “I’d be shocked if these skanks with you for your jock even know how to fucking read or get that you just paid me the greatest compliment there is. So thanks for being you, Roman, I like knowing where I rank.” While they all stood there with their jaws open Sydney called for me from the door letting me know our table was ready. Walking off, I extended my middle finger hoping Roman gagged on it.
Tonight after work I had a date.
A date I scored on my own, thank you very much. His name is Luke and his profile says he’s an architect, never married and no children. If a woman wasn’t married, or had no children she was defective but when a man stayed single he was a catch. I stayed single because I’ve yet to meet the man that I wanted forever with. Okay fine, I stayed single because none of the men in my life ever measured up to Roman. But measuring men’s character to another wasn’t fair; plus, I had no future with Roman so it was time to move on. We met on a dating site and though I was reluctant to do it, my co-workers insisted it was ideal for workaholics and social recluses. After weeks of dodging perverts and men living with their wives, I agreed to meet him at Roast inside of the Westin Cadillac Book.
Not only was I wearing makeup, but a dress and heels, too.
This wasn’t the norm for me. My basics were scrubs and clogs with my hair in a ponytail. Checking myself in the mirror, I had to admit I looked amazing. Most days I was extremely critical of my appearance but I couldn’t dispute that a little bit of effort went a long way. Turning in a circle, I noticed my large ass and smiled. This ass has served me well. When my doorbell rings I jump at the sound. Looking through the peep hole, I let out a loud holy shit before slowly opening the door. Jesus, it was my past replaying itself; only now I’m three sizes bigger with a degree and hard nipples.
“You’re at my house,” I accuse. “Why?”
“Because you weren’t at work.” He says casually leaning against my door looking perfect. The man never looked bad, it wasn’t possible. He had choice DNA.
“How did you find out where I lived?”
“Jules.” He shrugs eyeing me. “Can I come in?”
“Traitor,” I mumble uncertain what to do. That’s what I get for seeing her employees after hours I guess, awesome. Looking me up and down he doesn’t look impressed instead he just grunts, “You going out?”
“Yes.”
“With a guy?”
“Is that so hard to believe?” Just like that my self-confidence took a nose dive into the hardwood floor. My ass felt as deflated as my ego. God, for once I wanted him to drool over me, just once.
“I wanted to say sorry,” he offers moving past me to come inside without an invitation. “In person.”
“Lucky me,” I mumble not moving from the door. “I need you to go, Roman.”
“Rome,” he says looking around my living room but not at me, never at me.
“Huh?”
“Call me Rome.”
“Okay, Rome,” I counter. “Apology accepted. Now, go.”
“You were so pushy. Always telling me what to do. Even called me stupid a few times, more than a few actually.”
“I didn’t mean mentally, I meant---“
“I knew what you meant, Kandace,” he says coming back toward me. “I didn’t get it back then, I do now. Thanks for looking out for me.”
“A lot of good it did you, Rome,” I whisper. “You went to prison.”
“Sure as fuck did, didn’t I? Enjoy your date,” he says walking toward the door. Then turning back to me his voice booms in the quiet of my living room, or maybe it was my heart. “Had I listened to you, had I taken the time to see you, things would have been different, doc, for both of us.”
In college I wanted him to notice me more than anything, only when he had, it crushed me. Now he was here looking at me with interest and I didn’t have the guts to play the game, I didn’t know the rules, I wasn’t the athlete he was. “Rome,” I call out as he steps through the door. Turning to me, I blurt the last thing I wanted to say. “Your stitches look angry, you should put some ointment on them.”
Nodding to me he offers me a small smile and closes the door behind him.
Like a sonic boom went off, I let my shoulders fall in defeat. He came to my house and I asked him to leave. Would I ever get it right around him? When my heart started beating erratically I pick up my phone to place a call. When I get voicemail I let out a hard sigh of relief. “Hi Luke, it’s Kandace,” I tell him quickly. “I had an emergency come up and I can’t make our date, I’m sorry.”
Grabbing my purse and my courage, I dash out the door taking the steps two at a time thankful I didn’t face plant. Just as he was starting to pull away like an idiot, I jump in front of his car placing my hands on the hood. Throwing it in park, he climbs out and I wondered how he ever fit inside but those thoughts died when he came to tower over me. “Need a ride to your date, doc?”
“No date,” I tell him catching my breath. “I had an emergency come up.”
“Yeah? What kind of emergency?”
“The life or death kind,” I say looking up at his crystal eyes. Once Rome, just want me like I want you, once. “I’m not one of those girls who skips meals and everyone knows girls don’t actually eat on dates. We won’t call it a date, but I think you should take me to dinner so I don’t starve. We can catch up, talk like we used to. Start over---”
“Woman,” he says taking my elbow and leading me away from his car. “You’re a woman but I can’t do dinner, I’m sorry.”
“Wow,” I mumble backing away. My God his rejection felt like a punch in the face. Wait no, not my face... my chest.
“Kandace wait,” he says as I haul ass back to my door. Embarrassment was covering me like a second skin and I knew he could see it.
“I’m going through that door, slamming it and forgetting you ever showed up here. Asshole!”
Once I’m safely indoors, I throw my purse down, kick off my shoes and I call ho
me. As always, my dad was quick with advice and jokes. Within minutes he had me laughing and agreeing to lunch during the week. My life was okay, I was in control of it and it would stay that way. Screw Rome, I didn’t want him or his sexy haunted eyes anyway.
Oh wait, yes I did.
He just didn’t want me back.
God, she was pretty. Not like the skanks trolling campus, she was smart and going places. Every week I took an extra shower to smell good while she tutored me. When she wasn’t helping me pass classes, she was telling me what not to do. Most specifically, Michelle Porter, the campus slut.
I thought her jealousy was cute, I thought her advice was hilarious. It was my senior year of college and in six weeks, I left for training with Philadelphia. I didn’t give a fuck about school as long as I passed and I didn’t give a shit about Michelle Porter unless she wanted to fuck. Outside of her pussy I didn’t have much use for her, she was a righteous bitch.
All year I went out of my way to find her, insert myself into her life and managed to ruin it too. I’d get her to relax, see the real me then I’d panic and resort to hurting her. It was like a ping pong match, back and forth, but she never quit. She was always ready to play knowing she’d lose. She never picked up on my subtle attempts to flirt, never attempted to flirt back so at our last session I invited her to the party. God, this would be the last time I had with her. I told myself if she showed it would be because she wanted me. If she did, I’d leave with her and have that one night together. I’d tell her how I really felt, show her she was safe with me and if I was lucky, she’d fall asleep on my chest.
She showed and the night went to shit. The guys had been eye fucking her since she walked in and it was pissing me off that they saw what I wanted. My tutor was my perfect secret, I worked hard to keep her that way and in my mind she belonged to me. Coming over to the group to talk to me, I had to get her out of there before I lost my mind. But when the guys started razzing her and she started to tell them she was my tutor I panicked.
Then fucking Michelle showed up.
Like a witch with her crystal ball, she narrowed her eyes and gave her prediction.
“She’s trouble, Roman, remember I said that.”
But she was the only one who ever saw past the hype and tried to get through to me, only I didn’t listen.
Christ, back then I didn’t even take the time to say her name. That night when I was tossed in a holding cell, curled up in a ball terrified, even then I whispered, ‘Teach’.
With the force of a wrecking ball, memories of how I treated her was weight on my chest. On top of going to prison, hurting her was a regret I’ve lived with too. I knew I acted like a fool that night but I had forgotten the specifics, until now. No wonder she didn’t know how to handle me, she didn’t know which version of me she was going to get. Being around her again was opening up all the wounds I inflicted on her. The night I was arrested I went above and beyond mean but it wasn’t always like that. There were times I made her smile, times she leaned on me, those are the times I remember best.
Working the door was the last thing I could focus on but somehow managed. Fuck, it was loud in here. Jules has been eyeballing me all night because she knew I was on edge, spoiling for a fight.
Everywhere I go, there she is asking questions, goading me.
The problem was I had no answers that didn’t make me sound like the asshole Kandace called me. Had she listened I would have told her that I had plans to take my grandma to dinner, that I wanted to reschedule so I could be alone with her. But no, she flew up the steps slamming the door behind her.
I should have never went to her house, I should leave her alone.
I didn’t want to know she dated, that another guy would see her dressed up like that. Because if she was sexy in blue scrubs, she stopped time in a tight dress. Her pale skin would stand out against the dark of mine if our skin touched. Don’t even get me started on those heels. Kandace in heels was at least six two and I wouldn’t have to bend far to taste her. God, how I wanted to. That hair of hers was long and soft, her eyes had liner on them and she smelled like fucking sex. Thick in the right places, trim in others, I wanted to kick my own ass for not telling her all those years ago that she had it all. One hour a week for a full year, I had the hot tutor to myself and was too much of a bitch to let her know how I felt. Back then she intimidated me, turns out she still does.
She cancelled on her date for dinner with me and I shut her down without explaining. The vicious cycle continues. She was right, I was an asshole.
“You’re an idiot, too.”
“Don’t you have a business to run, Boss?” I ask embarrassed she heard me talking to myself.
“What is with you?” she counters. “You look like someone killed your dog. Do we need to work you over again? This is weird, I don’t see her playing hard to get so the fuck-up has to be on your end.”
“Tomorrow night,” I tell her not confirming or denying her claims. “Give Max a turn this time.”
“You are making my year you know that, right?” she says laughing. Turning away, I head back to my post at the door willing this night to be over with. Fortunately around one, a fight broke out over a chick and I was able to relieve some of the aggression I’d been holding in. Tossing the offender outside of the club, I thought I’d done a good job until she comes back to bitch me out about my temper.
“Tossed out or not, we don’t brutalize the offender, Rome. Any extra aggression you have can be taken out however you see fit as long as it’s not here. I’ll pass on the law suit, but thanks for thinking of me.”
As a kid I had issues with my temper and I still do, only now it’s even bigger than I am. Ten years I lost, ten fucking years and what did I have to show for it? Shit. Now it was just me and my temper with no field or opponent to take it out on. This anger was ruling my life. At that moment I missed playing ball, there was an empty hole inside of me, I could feel it.
Football was as natural to me as breathing. The first time my grandpa tossed me a ball it was game over. From that moment on, I lived and breathed the pigskin. He passed when I was in ninth grade and that’s when I started holding my shit in. Overnight I became the man of the house and my grandma struggled to keep me at Brother Rice by working two jobs. She told me my job was to play ball and get good grades, I did both of those things, securing me a scholarship to Wayne State University. Playing ball was easy, getting ass was even easier but senior year I let the popularity over being drafted go to my head and my grades started to fall.
Cue in the tutor.
Knowing my future depended on my graduation, I absorbed what she taught me when she wasn’t riding my ass about my choices. Back then I wasn’t concerned with some secretly hot nerd harping on me about my decisions, so I tuned her out. It pained me remembering that, too.
She warned me about Michelle every week for months but that night she really let me have it, like she was jealous and desperate. I ignored her and roughly two hours after I drank my ass off to forget what I’d done to her, I remember telling Michelle she’d never be Kandace, that I wouldn’t fuck her with someone else’s dick. Although I do remember telling her I’d let her blow me but it was meant as an insult and I didn’t expect her to follow through. She was bitching, crying and had resorted to begging when I kicked her out of the room. Finally alone, I fell to the bed wanting Kandace but I was woke up by being thrown to the floor, read my rights, put in cuffs and being held without bond for rape. The whole scene took minutes. Just like that, game over.
The court wasted no time handing down my sentence. Ten years served with an additional two years’ probation and the kicker? I was now and forever would be on the sex offender registry. All because of pussy I didn’t want.
The media and my friends hung me out to dry. No one stood up for me, not a single fucking person except my grandma. In a heartbeat, I became the kind of good looking black guy white girls needed to run away from. Because of me, every guy with color on c
ampus had a target on his back.
For weeks she told me I was better than my behavior, that I needed to rise above the hype and figure out who my friends really were and most especially not to trust Michelle Porter.
Yeah, she was right about all of it and the noble thing would be to leave her alone. But now she was under my skin and I couldn’t let it go. No, I didn’t treat her well then but I’m proof a man can change. Besides, she wouldn’t have wanted me back then, shouldn’t have wanted me then. Had I made a move on her I wouldn’t have been able to let her go, I would have destroyed her. I told myself I was being honorable by ignoring her that it was not out of fear of what others would think, but I knew that it was. For a guy who had it all, I fucked up my chances with a forever kind of girl for appearances. Tomorrow night I’d give Max a go at me if he wanted it.
I wasn’t losing her a second time.
For the first six months he was in prison I wrote letters I would never send. What was there to say? Ask how he was doing? Tell him about my life? Kick a man while he was down? I may have been a fan of Roman’s but he had never been a fan of mine. Every time he’d brag about his conquests I’d embarrass him with my brilliance and outside of banter, we never formed a real friendship. He would never know of my crush or how I followed his case, forming my own defense for him.
Whether he would ever admit it or not, he saw something in me and I was too much of a coward to ask him what it was. Roman was and forever would be out of my league, inmate or private citizen. His crucification died down rather quickly one he was incarcerated and I wondered if he received a lot of visitors. I also wondered how many were female and vowed to wait out his sentence. Part of me debated on coming to visit just to read to him or debate a topic but I worried I wouldn’t be welcome. As his tutor, he mostly denied knowing me outside of that library and unless we were alone, he was brutal to me. I’ll be damned if I would continue to let him beat me down and going there would guarantee it.
