One Good Play

by Meredith St. James

  "See ya Thursday!" I called back to him as I slipped through the door.

  I trekked all the way back across campus to get away from the ritzier side. There was a pizza place behind the dorms that I'd stumbled upon the first afternoon when I'd gotten to town. That was where I'd planned to meet Matty.

  When I got there he was waiting outside the restaurant with his eyes glued to his wristwatch. "Hey!" I greeted him brightly.

  "I wasn't sure if you were actually coming," he blurted right out.

  I turned his wrist towards me so I could double-check the time. I was five minutes earlier than I'd told him I'd be there. Someone had really done a number on the guy's confidence.

  "Of course I'm here. I'm the one that invited you, remember?"

  "Uh-huh," he mumbled. He turned his head to avoid looking at me.

  I held in my sigh and ushered him inside. It was looking like Matty might be a special project for me at Kelley. Come hell or high water I was going to help him get over some of those nerves.

  And if the Matty project helped keep me from seeking out Carter Scott every time I remembered the way his smile had highlighted the stubble on his chin—well that was just the cherry on top.

  8

  Wren

  After lunch with Matty, I'd decided he might manage to give Travis a run for his money in the new friend department. Once Matty had gotten past whatever initial attraction he'd felt towards me, he'd really loosened up.

  It definitely made the Friday morning tutoring shift a lot more bearable. It had only taken us a couple shifts to realize that the tutoring center was actually really slow work. Most students, as I'd initially assumed, weren't panicked enough to start regularly seeking out tutoring yet.

  After having our morning coffees—which I'd supplied as promised—we each had clear schedules until Carter was scheduled to be there. That left Matty plenty of time to lure me into a video game he was designing called Helltomb. It wasn't the kind of thing I would ever have thought about picking up on my own, but after he'd let me create my own character I was immediately hooked.

  "This is what I get for picking the cute red boots instead of the more sensible brown ones," I whined as yet another monster swiped at me. I was unsuccessfully trying to use the tall grass as a hiding spot.

  Matty nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, terrible for camouflage," he agreed.

  He pointed at a spot in the upper right hand corner of his laptop screen. "Try the city map. Your character would probably fit in a lot better if you were fighting in the streetwalker's sect."

  "Matty..." I gasped dramatically. "Are you saying I look like a hooker?"

  He blinked hard and ducked his head to hide his reddened cheeks. Matty blushed about as often as I did. Luckily, he'd already picked up on my teasing sense of humor, so after a minute he collected himself and just ignored what I'd said.

  I switched over the map just like he'd told me and sure enough, the character I'd designed did look an awful lot like the girls I found working the street corners. I snuck my character past a row of cop cars and directed her towards my newfound comrades. Just as a shadow-monster started slinking out of an alleyway, Laurel's voice broke my concentration.

  "Carter, you're early. You'll have to..."

  Her voice had trailed off, and when I glanced over I realized it was because she'd noticed Carter wasn't paying any attention to her. Instead, he was staring at me. More specifically, he was staring at how closely I was sitting with Matty while we played Helltomb on his laptop. Somewhat subconsciously, I shifted half an inch away from my sweet friend.

  "Wren, you're about to get killed," Matty warned.

  I whipped my head back around to the game just in time, dodging an attack seconds before it would have wiped me out. "That was close."

  "What are you playing?" Carter's voice startled me. I jerked in my seat. While I'd been saving my character's life he'd managed to quietly make his way to our table.

  I looked up at him in between dodging traffic in the game. "The best game ever," I told him seriously.

  Matty sat up a little straighter, taking pride in my genuine praise. It was really incredible that he wasn't in a game design program instead of political science, considering all the detail he'd put into Helltomb. I knew there must be some reason for that, but I hadn't gotten it out of him yet. He still had a tad bit of warming up to me to do before I could grill him about his life plans. Eventually, though, I had every intention of doing just that.

  "Are you here for tutoring?" Matty asked, jumping to his feet like he thought we might get in trouble for slacking on the job.

  I stayed where I was.

  "I actually just need to talk to Wren." Matty's face fell. Carter must have noticed it because he added, "It doesn't have to be right this second. I can wait."

  The way he nervously tapped his foot told me that he was just saying it to be nice. Based on the way he seemed to react with people, I was pretty sure he'd already reached his threshold for conversation with Matty.

  "You can talk to me while I change my hooker's outfit into something more respectable, but don't go crazy," I teased. "I can't have you distracting me while I battle The Dark Prince."

  Matty scoffed before Carter could respond. "As if you're even remotely ready to take on The Dark Prince yet. Your character barely knows how to wield her ax."

  "That's so unfair. She wouldn't have been all wobbly like that if you hadn't convinced me to try out the tavern. Can you really expect a gal to throw an ax straight when she's drunk?"

  Carter cleared his throat politely, bringing both of our eyes back to him. A quick peek at Matty told me he felt guilty about being rude. Obviously, he'd never tried to have a conversation with Carter before. Not that I thought Carter meant to be rude to people, he just naturally seemed to come across that way. He had quite the reputation for that.

  Nearly a week's worth of class time had taught me it was virtually impossible to find people who didn't know Carter Scott—or who weren't constantly talking about him. It seemed like I overheard people talking about him everywhere I went. Usually, they were only talking about his football prowess, but I'd heard other comments thrown in there, too.

  The consensus seemed to be that he wasn't a guy anyone wanted to be locked in a room with. Though, one girl had pointed out that she might not mind it if they were both naked and the room had a bed in it. I was pleased to say I'd refrained from responding to that tidbit.

  Of course, nothing could top the chant I'd overheard a couple of girls doing in the Student Activities Center.

  "Carter Scott is very hot!"

  It was quite the slogan. I could only hope they did that at the actual football games. The idea of hearing that ridiculous chant coming from a whole stadium's worth of people was almost enough to make me want to buy a game ticket.

  Almost.

  Carter shrugged and dropped himself into the seat across from me.

  Matty shifted nervously on his feet. "I'll wait over there while you two talk," he said. He started to back away.

  "You don't have to," I protested.

  "It's okay, I'll just be right over there." He pointed vaguely in the direction of the service desk.

  I was half-tempted to drag him back so that I wouldn't have to talk to Carter alone, but I could tell the tension was making both guys nervous. Besides, I was going to have to get used to being alone with him if I was going to make it through an entire semester of tutoring him in small, closed spaces. Preferably without me awkwardly touching him every chance I got.

  I let Matty flee to the relative safety of Laurel's workspace. If nothing else, I took it as a good sign that he trusted me enough to leave me alone with his laptop. I'd noticed that he liked to guard the thing like his life depended on it.

  "So, what's up?"

  I caught myself staring at Carter across the table, and reminded myself that I was supposed to be redesigning my game character. Like hell did I need to let myself get caught up in how long and dark
Carter's eyelashes were. Or how a cute little crease appeared on his forehead when he frowned.

  Dammit girl, pull yourself together.

  Carter's fingers drummed against the table. "I need this to work."

  "You mean the tutoring? Because yeah, that's sort of my plan." I tried to play it off as casual. A quick peek at Carter's face told me that for him it was anything but.

  "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for my football scholarship. My parents are great, but they're both teachers. They would never have been able to afford to send me here on their own, and the academic scholarships are more competitive here than at public universities."

  It was the most I'd heard him say at one time. My fingers hovered over the keyboard without touching anything. I dropped the pretense and looked fully across the table at him.

  He ran his hands along that permanently stubble-lined jaw of his. It seemed like it was making him nervous to talk to me so openly. I found myself inching forward in my seat, leaning into his words. He'd been so tight-lipped before that I hadn't realized how soothing his talking voice actually was.

  "When I got here two years ago I was so worried about how easy it would be to lose the opportunity I'd been given, so I just went along with what I was being told to do: keep my head down and pick a major that wouldn't jeopardize my GPA so that I would stay eligible. Now, I'm getting to the point where there's starting to be a lot of questions about whether I'll be going pro or not."

  "Are you?" I asked. I didn't know much about sports, but I did know that getting signed professionally was considered a big deal.

  "I haven't made a decision yet," he said, though his voice wavered in a way that made me think maybe he had. "But if I don't decide to go pro, I want to be ready for a career that I'll actually like. Something that's gonna make me feel good at the end of the day."

  I stared at him with my best blank look. I didn't want to risk giving him even the slightest reason to quit talking.

  He glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice, "I love playing football, but it takes a toll on a man's body, and part of me doesn't think I can keep doing the aches and pains until I inevitably suffer from an injury that takes me out of the game. I'd rather go on my own terms."

  "What do you want to do instead?"

  "I want to follow in my parents' footsteps."

  It took a second for me to realize what he meant. "You want to teach?"

  I tried to picture him as a teacher, a career field that required near-constant talking. It actually wasn't as hard to picture as I thought. From a psychological standpoint, I imagined there was probably less pressure when it came to talking to kids rather than other adults.

  "Why history?" I asked, purely out of my own curiosity since his answer really had no impact on my ability to tutor him—or not tutor him.

  "I'm adopted."

  The words were a revelation for me. Suddenly all the family photos Rose had hanging around the apartment made sense. Neither of the kids looked like either of their parents. If Carter was adopted then it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to guess that Rose probably was, too. I would have to be careful not to slip up and say anything to Rose. I didn't want to force her to share something so personal if she wasn't ready or willing to talk about it.

  Carter finished, "History was just kind of the thing I felt like I was missing. Not that I'd trade my parents for anything in the world, but you just kind of lose some of your own history when you don't know exactly where you've come from, you know?"

  I did know.

  "I'm a sucker for a good sob story," I admitted. "Don't worry, we'll make a kickass history teacher out of you, yet."

  Carter started to pull his book-bag from off his shoulder. I held up my hand before he could get too enthusiastic. "We don't start until I finish at least one more level."

  He dropped the bag on the table and leaned back casually in his chair. I did my best to remind myself that Carter was a liability. As he sat across the table from me, patiently waiting for me to give my attention, I had a really hard time remembering that.

  9

  Carter

  "Carter, we've been working on this essay for three weeks. You're gonna have to accept that it's finished."

  I blinked hard down at the freshly printed papers in front of me. Wren was right, of course. The essay was good. Great even. I could feel my tenuous grip on Wren's time slipping away.

  "What if—"

  "No."

  I frowned across the table at her, hoping I could guilt her into changing her mind. Surely we could come up with something in the essay that could be improved. Preferably something that would take all the way up until my deadline at the end of the week.

  "That's not gonna work this time."

  "What?"

  Wren crossed her arms over her chest. My mouth practically watered at the way it pushed up the cleavage peeking out from her v-neck sweater.

  "Every time I tell you this essay is done, you come up with something else that you swear you need to fix. I'm not falling for it anymore."

  For three weeks Wren had been nothing but business. More than anything, I wanted her to look at me as more than just some guy she was tutoring. Everywhere I went it seemed I was running into Wren with people she'd made friends with—and I still wasn't one of them. It was like she got along with everyone but me.

  In all fairness, that was true of basically everyone I'd ever met.

  Part of me had thought that spending more time with Wren might help me work her out my system. That couldn't have been further from the truth. The more I was around her the more I wanted her. Her laugh was infectious, and the few times I had gotten her to open up to me she'd been insightful and well-spoken. Logically, I knew that everyone had some unlikable trait, but I'd yet to find Wren's.

  "I don't have any other assignments to work on right now."

  Wren nodded. "I know."

  Slowly, I shoved my things into my bag. I felt sick about the fact that I wouldn't have an excuse to meet Wren again for weeks. I couldn't stand to look at her, even though I could tell she was studying my reaction.

  "Carter," she said my name softly.

  Still, I refused to look up at her. Her hand came down on mine, effectively stopping my packing. For once, I was the first one to pull away.

  "What if we take a little field trip?"

  My neck snapped back so quick that it made a cracking sound. Wren had never initiated hanging out with me outside of our tutoring sessions. She'd never even given any indication that she might want to. I could see a war happening behind her eyes, but I wasn't sure why she looked so uncertain when she'd been the one to suggest it.

  "Okay."

  I had practice later, but Wren knew that. I knew for a fact she'd memorized my football schedule after I'd given it to her. She knew my practice schedule better than most of my teammates. I tried not to read anything into it. My memory was good, but hers was better. She probably memorized all sorts of useless things.

  "Grab your stuff." She stood and started grabbing her half of the stuff from our table. I hurried to catch up.

  "Where are we going?" I asked as she laced her arm through mine and started guiding me towards the bank of elevators in the back corner.

  "You'll see."

  She gave me a mysterious smile. Her eyes sparkled with mischief. I was tempted to tell her never mind, that I didn't want to go. I'd wanted to spend time with Wren, but all of a sudden all I could think about were all the other times I'd hung out with girls. Once they realized I wasn't any more talkative in a one-on-one setting, most of them got bored and bailed.

  "I can hear the wheels turning in your head." She pulled me onto the first elevator that opened. "Is it the talking thing?"

  I stared down at my feet.

  "None of the people where we're going are going to care if you say the wrong thing, or if you're a little quiet."

  When she mentioned going around other people, my entire body tensed. She must have felt it becaus
e her arm tightened around mine.

  "You can trust me."

  "I don't even know you," I felt compelled to point out.

  "Well, what do you want to know?"

  My brain swam with questions that I could ask. I didn't know about her parents, or where she was from, or what she was like as a kid, or even whether she had a driver's license. Any one of those things could have formed a valid question.

  Instead, what came out was, "Have you ever been in love?"

  Her face paled. "Ask something else, please." Her arm loosened and then slipped completely away from me. "Literally, anything else."

  I shifted nervously away from her. Touching seemed to be a big thing for her, but it always put me a little on edge when she suddenly pulled away—which she usually did.

  "How'd you spend your summer?"

  Wren tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. She stalled for a second, and I shifted away a little more.

  "Roadtrip. I drove my way from one side of the country to the other."

  Well, at least now I knew she had a driver's license.

  "By yourself?"

  "Technically, yeah," she confirmed with a careless shrug.

  The idea of traveling alone didn't seem like such a foreign concept to her as it did to me. My own travels had always involved other people, my family or my team.

  Even for me, the idea of traveling alone seemed...lonely.

  Wren rolled her eyes at the face I made. "You don't have to feel sorry for me. I met all kinds of people, so I wasn't just hanging out alone all the time. I got to do what I wanted when I wanted. You don't get that kind of freedom when you're having to take another person into consideration."

  I didn't want to argue with her. It sounded sad though, to hear her describe that she preferred not to have someone traveling with her. She was so sociable. All over campus, I caught glimpses of her naturally gravitating towards other people. It didn't seem right for her to be the kind of person that was doing anything alone.

  "What was the most interesting thing you did on your trip?" I asked, effectively changing the subject for her benefit as much as for my own.