by HJ Bellus
He slaps his palms on his chest. “Is this worth fighting for?”
“Of course,” I shout at him.
“Then I need to say sorry for blowing up last night. I understand you were protecting me. You knew I’d blow my fucking top and kill Burnett, especially after he put his hands on you. Coach had to talk me down, so I get it. You were protecting me. But that’s not how this works.”
I swallow hard.
“We need to talk and trust each other. I promise to you, right now, that I’ll fight to keep my temper tamped down.”
“Okay,” I nod. “State, I still need to tell Miss Tami.”
“What?”
“She doesn’t know I ran into a member of the Burnett family.”
“Yes, you do need to tell her.”
State drives in silence to a coffee shop. I hop from the car and let out a breath when he grabs my hand guiding us in. We settle in a little corner of the shop. I clutch my coffee and feel hopeful.
“I’m sorry, State. I was just trying to protect you. It seems dumb now because I know that you’re all in.”
“I am.” He grips his coffee cup.
“I am, too. I promise.”
“I know you’re scared. I get it, Baylor.”
“Yeah, some things never change.” I sit back in my seat and roll my eyes.
“That’s not what I’m saying here.” He reaches out to cover my hand near my coffee cup. “I’m telling you one more time that I am your safety net. I’ll always catch you.”
I don’t respond.
“You could tell me that my coach was Satan and I’d be on your side, Baylor. I love football. Hell, I’ve eaten, breathed, and slept football my whole life, but my world is nothing without you in it.”
A single tear rolls down my face, but I refuse to cry. “I know, State and I love you for that. I’ll always love you.”
“Good. That’s past us. Want me to make time this week to be with you when you tell Miss Tami?”
“No.” I shake my head. “You have football.”
He interrupts me with a warning tone. “Baylor.”
“Let me finish,” I say leaning forward. “I can do this on my own and I want you to focus on football. I mean, if I’m going to date then I need to be dating the number one defensive end in the nation. I expect no less.”
He lets out a light chuckle lightening the mood. “I’m serious, Baylor. Not even my parents will get between us. They can see it my way or kick rocks.”
“State, you can’t give everything up for me.”
“I will,” he growls. “Watch me. I’m not fucking around.”
I feel pieces of the open wound on my heart begin to heal. He’s always been the one standing by my side no matter what. The man is opening up to me and telling me he’d sacrifice everything for me. Love doesn’t even begin to define what’s going on between us.
“Thank you. I love you, State.” I swallow hard and stare into his deep chocolate brown eyes. “I’m all in. I deserve it and no there’s no way I can live without you again. Last night scared the shit out of me.”
“It sounds all sappy and shit, but I can’t function without you Baylor.”
“I get you, man cub.” I stand and walk over to him nestling down into his lap. We finish our coffee in silence.
Twenty-Four
Life sucks without State in it. He’s been booked solid with football and classwork. We FaceTime daily and he even snuck by a couple of times during the week. I’m quickly learning what college football entails. Your whole damn life!
The last two weeks he’s had away games. The man is exhausted from the grueling game, but always makes time for me and most certainly Rowe. He has sent several packages chalked full with princess dolls and new game day shirts. We’re going on week three of him being super busy. Thank God, it’s a home game this week. Saturday can’t get here soon enough. Fuck Wednesdays.
My phone chirps lighting up the quirky selfie of me and State. I have baby carrots hanging out of my nose and he has celery sticking out of his ears. All Rowe conspired of course, State insisted on a selfie.
State: God, I can’t wait to see you Friday night.
Me: 45 Hours and 13 minutes…but really who is counting!
State: Jesus, I’m going to devour you when I see you.
Me: I’m not thinking a family dinner would be the place to devour.
My stomach rolls in disgust just thinking about another encounter with his mother. Thank God, Shayne will be there to distract me. We’ve grown closer over the last few weeks via texting. I know all about her gymnastic career and how badass she is. I’ve also discovered that the tension between her and her father is well and alive, and that she’s hopelessly in love with Ryder.
State: I don’t give a fuck.
I smile down at the new message, knowing all too well he truly doesn’t give a fuck. I smile at the five words.
Me: Aren’t you in class?
State: Fucking economics are boring as hell. I keep thinking about you naked on me.
Me: Pay attention, man cub!
State: Oh, I’m paying attention. Your creamy skin pressed against mine. Those perked up nipples begging to be sucked on.
Me: You’re impossible. I have a massage appointment. Have to run. My nipples will be impatiently waiting.
State: Love you, Queen.
Me: Love you even more, lover boy.
And that’s how most of our conversations flow. It eventually leads to something sexually initiated by State and it leaves me wanting him more than I ever thought possible. It sucked, but I quit my job at Alley’s. The sole purpose of working there was to push me out of my comfort zone. Miss Tami agreed it was too much on my plate and that I was doing a fine job of trying new things.
I blushed when she’d told me those exact words. She had no idea how many new things I’d been trying, tasting, and licking. I’m pretty sure the expression on my face told her everything she needed to know.
I’m focusing on finishing up my few online courses, my massage clientele, dance, and State. If I’m being honest, I focus on State more than a healthy mind should be allowed to.
Rowe is more than eager to attend her first home game. Miss Tami broke down in tears when I shared the whole story with her. We all agreed that I’d test out the waters of the next home game and then make a decision. It hasn’t stopped State from buying her headphones with his team logo on them, along with the rest of the gear. She’ll look like a Momma Pete Junior when she finally attends a game.
The afternoon flows by in a mindless state, as do the rest of the days. It’s Friday afternoon and I feel like a kid on Christmas morning. Not that I’d ever know that true feeling. Just have to get through dance and my little ass will be blazing down the interstate to State.
“Rowe, grab your backpack.”
“Baylor, I am,” she sings back with sass.
She’s decked out in blue and orange, and ready to tackle the dance lessons, quite literally. She’s taken her spin on princess glam and football, creating a new look for herself. She has her favorite Rapunzel doll tucked under her arm and a toothy grin plastered on her face. I cringe when I spot her front tooth dangling from her gums. She refuses to pull it and has adapted to a way of eating that doesn’t knock it out. I’ve begged and begged.
“Why do they wear these things anyway?” She plays with the thick black stickers under her eyes while we drive to lessons.
“I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask State.”
“Yeah, right.” She rolls her eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
“I never get to see him anymore.”
“I know, baby, he misses you.”
“Can you record a bit of my dance to send him?”
“Of course.”
I mentally try to figure out the game plan since I’ll be teaching my own class, but this I’ll give her. We walk hand in hand into the studio and it’s abnormally quiet. Usually there are girls of all ages,
running around in their dance outfits, giddy with excitement.
“Baylor, darn, I was going to call you,” Shelia, the owner announces. “We’re really short today. I guess some stomach flu floating around. I was going to tell you that I didn’t need you today.”
“Oh, it’s fine.” I wave her off and then dart for the hand sanitizer dangling from Rowe’s backpack. I lather her and myself in it. I know it won’t be of any good, but it’s one of those things that makes me feel better.
Then a slight pang of anger sets in. I could’ve been driving to State already. Shit! I’m half tempted to call Miss Tami in, but I’ll just swallow the pain and wait a few more hours. Time makes the heart grow fonder, or the ovaries explode in anticipation. I’m not sure which.
“Hey, I’ll record you for a bit, then I’m going to hit a private studio to dance for a bit. Okay?”
“Yes.” Rowe claps her little hands together in excitement.
No freak out this time. I was waiting for her to pitch a fit for me to teach her class. She amazes me every single day with her resilience. I’m watching a shattered child bloom into a beautiful young lady. There’s truly no great honor than that.
I record her hopping around to her first song and then send her a quick good-bye wave.
Me: Rowe wanted me to send you this video. I’ll be hitting the road in a few short hours, big guy.
I wait for a response, but get none. I don’t worry because the man is either in the gym or running through new plays with his team. I tuck my phone in my duffle bag and make my way to one of the small private dance studios. The room has mirrors lining two walls, a ballet bar, and a smooth dance floor.
I pull my hair up into a messy bun on the top of my head, press shuffle on my iPod, and then begin stretching out. Dance has always been an escape for me since Miss Tami introduced me to it. It’s a place where I’m not forced to talk or interact with anyone. It’s just me, my body, and music.
Beads of sweat begin to roll off my forehead as I dance to each song. Most of them are choreographed and I know the moves by heart, while other songs I make up new moves and just let my body go. Dancing has to be best form of mental and physical exercise.
One of my all-time favorites begin to play. The song absorbs every single part of me. It eats at my soul and speaks to me in every way possible. Skinny Love’s sweet melody floats around me, hugging me tight. I float across the dance floor in long powerful strides, twirling, and losing myself into the song.
Sadness strikes me like it does every single time, but in the end I’m winning. I’m defeating the sad parts of my life and finding myself. I’m winning at this. So, I pronounce each move with more conviction and power than ever before.
It starts out as a pirouette and then I spin until I nearly become to dizzy to land on both feet. I let everything go as I twirl around. The final chords of a piano playing, ends the song. Two large hands slam together clapping. I turn to see State sitting on a bench with his team hat on backwards. A smile covers his entire face.
“State.”
I barely manage to get his name out between my pants.
“Fucking amazing, baby. Miss Tami is right. You need to be dancing professionally.”
I shake my head at him. “You’re crazy.”
Drums and a hypnotic beat light up the small studio. Janet Jackson’s What Have You Done for Me Lately begins to play. My hips begin to sway to the beat. I do some fancy foot work knowing the choreography to this song by heart. I slide from side-to-side hip popping along the way. The song and my dance moves have ended our conversation abruptly.
Improvising, I add a few moves of mine own like dragging the hem of my shirt up to expose my stomach and even facing my ass to him while shaking it. During the whole song I close the distance between us. I’m mere inches from him, gyrating my whole body and even untying my hair letting it whip around.
If he came for a show, I’m sure in the hell not going to disappoint. It’s been too many long nights without my man in my bed. I slow my hips near the end of the song making my moves long and languid, and right in his damn face. State bites down on his bottom lip showing his appreciation.
I hop in his lap, straddling his thick thighs and finishing off my last dance moves. My chest grinds up and down his long torso while I keep one hand planted on top of his shoulder, waving the other over my head.
When the song ends I giggle and stare him in the eyes.
“That’s for me and no one else. Do you hear me?” His voice is thick with want.
“What about men’s night here. I get my best tips then.” I bite down on my finger.
“What in the hell?”
I slap both of my palms down on his shoulders. Our skin to skin connection ignites me. Thank you God for inventing tank tops.
“I’m kidding.” I manage to get out between giggles.
“Well, look at my girl.” He brushes my hair away from my face. “She’s confident, glowing, and fucking gorgeous.”
H.O.L.Y by Florida Georgia Line begins to play in the background setting the mood.
“Because of you.”
State grips the back of my head, twining his fingers into my hair, and brings our faces together. We don’t speak anymore. Our lips connect and we kiss each other hard. Like, being separated for too long, hard. I open up when his tongue licks across my lips. He takes his time exploring the inside of my mouth, meanwhile I melt into him, letting him devour me.
A piercing alarm goes off on my phone. I pull away feeling my lips pulse from the hard kiss. Best feeling ever.
“Rowe’s class is about to end. She’ll shit herself seeing you.”
“Well, let’s hope she doesn’t shit herself.”
I slap his cheek playfully. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t. Maybe another kiss?”
“Get your ass up.” I slip on my tennis shoes and gather my stuff.
State’s on his feet with the door held wide open for me to step through. I lead him to Rowe’s studio and we slip in as quietly as possible. When holding hands with a towering six and half foot man whose shoulders barely fit through the door jam, it’s quite the task.
I don’t miss the stares the damn dance moms give him. In an over-exaggerated move, I throw a leg up on his lap and clutch his hand. He smiles down at me not missing the obvious move.
He leans forward, gives the women a wink, and nods. “Afternoon, ladies.”
I elbow him in the chest causing him to chuckle down into my hair.
“I like jealous Baylor.”
I wrinkle my nose up at him. He kisses me quickly on my lips before I turn around to see Rowe staring at us. I send her a quick wave. She shocks me when she goes right back to dancing. Each one of her moves are overly done with a dramatic flare. Between songs she points to her game day shirt and winks at State. It makes me giggle. Rowe remains focused on her dance teacher, showing off for State.
He bends down and whispers in my ear, “God, I love that little girl so much.”
I squeeze his hand letting him know that I know. His phone flashes in his lap. “Mom” scrolls across his screen. I don’t let the name upset me. Instead, I focus on his screensaver. It’s one of him and Rowe. It makes me happy to see her on his phone. This man is so much more than love. He’s my shelter.
He doesn’t even flinch or reach for his phone. I’m not sure he even recognized the text because his vision is on Rowe. Her dance teacher must pick up on Rowe’s excitement and lets them dance a little longer than usual.
“Shrek,” Rowe squeals, racing toward him with her arms wide open.
He stands up on his feet, letting me slide to the side. She’s the only person on the face of this Earth that would make me smile being pushed aside for.
“You’re here.” He cups her cheeks, pinching them.
“I had to see you dance, princess.”
She dramatically flings her hair back.
“Yeah, why did you come?” I ask, stepping up to them carrying a
ll the duffle bags.
“To watch Rowe dance, duh,” he responds.
“Duh!” She mimics State.
I shake my head at both of them as we walk out hand in hand. State never puts Rowe down and she waves to all her friends as we go.
“I don’t want you driving down to the campus. I wanted to surprise you,” he finally whispers down to me.
“Did you get the video?”
“Duh.” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”
“Can you buckle me in your car?” Rowe asks.
“Sure can, princess.”
“Rowe, how about you just ride in my car since your booster is there.”
“No, thanks.”
Well, at least she added thanks.
“I’ve got you covered, sister.” He opens the back door to his sexy car.
There’s a brand new princess booster settled right in the middle.
“Oh my Pop Tarts.” Rowe scrambles from his arms and buckles herself in.
“That’s a miracle,” I whisper. She never buckles herself in.
“What can I say? I bring out the best in beautiful women.” He winks at me and then turns to Rowe.
“Where shall we dine, my lovely lady?”
“McDonalds,” she sings out.
I groan. It’s her go-to restaurant and I hate it.
“Deal.” He turns to me, pulling me in a hug. “Want to call Miss Tami to join us.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be jumping with freaking joy.”
“Not a fan of McDonalds?”
“Hell no. How about you work that magic and convince her she wants Subway or something.”
He lets out a hearty chuckle. “I’ll do my best.”
We exchange a few quick kisses, which are not nearly enough, but will have to do. I send Miss Tami a quick text, once I’m in my own car and before I have my phone sat down in the passenger seat it chimes.
State: Subway on Broadway Avenue it is.
Me: THANK YOU!!!!!!!!!
I follow the taillights of his car as he weaves his way through traffic. At one stoplight I can hear the bass of a Taylor Swift song pumping through his car windows. I can only imagine both of them belting at the top of their lungs together. And I smile.
