by Autumn Sand
“Hey, man. Let’s grab some chicks and go,” my best friend Egon says, with a girl already in his arms.
“Heeey.” I think her name is Regan whines.
“Sorry babe. I meant he should grab a chick and let’s go.” He smiles down at her. She leaps up and wraps her long legs around his waist, kissing him.
My best friend Egon is the frontman for an up-and-coming band called State of Mind. The group is mostly locally known, but they are gaining some traction with their fan base. They have also been slated to play a few halftime shows at our home football games. I wouldn’t be surprised if he and his band get a record deal before we graduate college in two more years. When we were kids, Egon always dreamed of being in a band, and now his dream is finally here.
He has a certain celebrity status around campus, which makes him an instant chick magnet. Also, girls dig the ink on his body. I can’t tell you how many times he’s gotten laid because of it. At one time, I considered getting tatted up simply for that reason alone. But I can’t complain. I get my fair share of the ladies, most of which are one-night stands. Now and then, I might go for a second, but never a third. Girls get caught up with emotions and shit. Can’t have that. Favor Fontaine, on the other hand, is a woman I could get into a relationship with. She’s beautiful, smart, doesn’t do the party thing, and she seems to be about her business.
“Hey. You think the rumors are true?” I ask Egon.
“Huh? What rumors?” he replies, with Regan dangling from his arm.
“Is Favor dating Jameson?” I try not to look like a creeper as I watch her dry off.
He places Regan back on her feet and looks in the direction that I’m staring. “Man, you still chasing that?”
“I’m one of her closest friends you know,” Regan chimes in.
I cross my arms over my chest. “Is that so?” I play along.
“Yeah. And she’s with Jameson, for sure,” she slurs slightly.
“Is that so?” I say again, wishing she would disappear.
“Yep.” She giggles as Egon picks her up and kisses her.
“Bro, come on. Let’s eighty-six this party. Find yourself a bedwarmer and let’s go.”
“Nah. I’m not in the mood. But you’re right, let’s get out of here,” I say as I watch Favor and her friends drive off in the distance.
“You sure you don’t want to pick out a sweet piece of ass?” Egon goads.
“I’m good, bro. Seriously.” Girls make it too easy for me. There isn’t any more chase now that I’m the starting quarterback for the team. I’m, for lack of a better word…bored.
“Mind if I bring this one back to our room?” Egon tips his head towards Regan.
I look at her and shrug. “What do I care?” I don’t know why he would want to hook up with this girl at all. She’s known around campus as a bottom feeder.
“If you want, I’ll do you both.” The smile that, a second ago was all for Egon, is now aimed in my direction.
Oh hell NO. She thinks I’m dipping in after my best friend? Egon and I have always considered ourselves to be brothers, but that’s toeing a line. “Ehh, nah. I’m good,” I say, giving my best friend a ‘what the fuck’ look.
She tips her chin down and frowns. Egon looks at her with disgust, but I know him; he doesn’t feel like throwing this fish back into the ocean to find another. This is an easy piece of ass, most likely a one and done for him.
“Brice and I don’t exactly like to share, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh.” Her chin touches her chest bone. “I was just joking anyway.”
“Riiiight,” I turn around and swim to shore, the two of them following behind me.
After drying off, I drive us back to our dorm.
Once inside of our room, the two of them waste no time in getting it on. After an hour, I’m ready to tape her mouth shut. I hate chicks who put on the theatrics in bed like they are in a goddamn porno. I know I’m good in bed, but damn, baby…really? They go at it until the sun comes up. Figures it would be my luck that Egon would pick tonight to be the Energizer bunny.
When silence finally settles in our room, I’m able to drift off to sleep with dreams of Favor screaming out my name. Yeah, that’s more the way I like it.
Chapter 3
Favor
I’ve had a grueling day of classes, and I expect it to become even more exhausting with my trig class to finish up my long day. As I walk past the math building, I see Jameson holding court as usual in the front. I glance at Regan, who is pleading with Tattoo Guy about something. I duck my head in laughter and rush by them. Poor girl, she’ll just never learn.
Taking my seat in the back of the class, I power up my tablet, and quickly go over last week’s class notes, just in case I’m called to answer a question. A couple of my classmates say hello to me, and I wave, without looking up or breaking concentration.
Professor Todd’s presence is announced by his squeaky shoes and a clang of the metal door. Placing his briefcase and folders on his desk, he begins to write on the board without a word. He is notorious for giving surprise quizzes, and the class all breathes a collective sigh of relief as we read the notes he has written.
The creaky sound of the unoiled door reverberates throughout the classroom, and all eyes focus on a newcomer, who walks towards the professor. My eyes bulge at the sight of the person who took my beloved brother from me. I feel as if I’m having an out-of-body experience as they have their brief conversation, before he turns to find a vacant seat. Hushed whispers from those who recognize him echo in the room, and those that do not, try to get a better look at who’s causing the commotion.
It’s Wayne. He doesn’t see me in the back because I have scrunched down in my chair, so low I can barely see over the person's head in front of me. Wayne takes a seat somewhere in the middle of the room, and I try not to lose my lunch. I haven't set eyes on him since before he killed my brother.
My mouth feels like cotton, and I desperately try to remember how to breathe again. Memories of my last conversation with my brother go through my head. I was supposed to visit him on campus, and we were finalizing the details of my trip. We ended our conversation with our typical teasing, him calling me ‘Favor Fav’ and me calling him ‘Terror Trev’, neither of us knowing that would be the last time we would speak again. Otherwise, I would’ve told him I loved him in place of my playful joke.
Someone next to me places a stack of handouts on my desk, causing me to jump, knocking my tablet and sending the papers flying across the floor. All eyes turn to look at me, but only one pair makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
A few of my classmates seated near me help to retrieve the papers as I mumble out an apology and my thanks. With shaky hands, I put right the papers and pass them on to the next student. I refuse to look up for fear of my eyes settling on him.
I want him to feel the pain he has caused my family and me. He was like a brother to me, and my mother even designated one of the guest rooms as his bedroom. Images of my father the night we received the phone call, running into Wayne’s room like a tornado, throwing his things to the ground. Gathering Wayne’s belongings, taking long strides past my mother, who was crumpled on the floor in the vestibule, clutching a picture of Trevor to her breast. My father’s hopes of erasing Wayne’s memory from our house like a discarded sketch only cemented it further. A cloak of mourning enveloped our house and instead of me being able to cry on his shoulders as friends while we grieved my brother, I had to find solace elsewhere. I was utterly alone when Trevor died, and Wayne went to jail. Not having a normal relationship with my parents was only heightened further by Trevor’s death. The wailing of my mother from that night still haunts me to this day.
My hour and a half class ticks by slowly as I try desperately not to hear my mother’s cries and that blasted ring from the phone that announced my brother’s death. As soon as Professor Todd stops the lecture and dismisses us, I am the first one out of my seat to sp
eak to him. I gather my things quickly and rush to the front of the room.
“Umm, excuse me, Professor Todd.” I try to speak as quietly as possible as various students walk past me.
“Yes, Favor?” he asks as he packs away some papers in his briefcase, barely giving me a glance over the rim of his glasses.
“Is Wayne Anderson in this class now?” My voice sounds shrill.
Professor Todd gives me a quizzical look. “Yes, he is.” He stops what he was doing and gives me his undivided attention. “He used to be a student of mine a few years ago, but had to drop out of school for personal reasons. He is now enrolled back in this school and taking this class.” He pushes his glasses up from the tip of his nose. “Is there a problem?”
My heart thunders in my chest. “I-I was just curious.” I look down at my feet. Eyes. I feel two sets of eyes on me. Professor Todd is still staring at me, and the other set is from someone standing behind me. “Are there any more openings in your other classes?” My words come out mumbled because my chin is tucked into my neck.
His eyes narrow. “Do you know Mr. Wayne Anderson?”
The sound of Wayne’s name out loud makes me lift my head quickly. Feeling lightheaded, I reach out my hand to hold his desk for support. I swallow hard and shake my head slowly because telling him the truth is not an option.
“Are you one of the many students at this school who refuses to forgive his past? I’m ashamed of you, Miss Fontaine. You’re one of my best and brightest students, and if you’re holding an imaginary grudge against this young man for an incident that has nothing to do with you, it is a sad day.” Frown lines form around his mouth.
No one knows that my brother was Trevor Hollister, the star quarterback of this college who was killed in a drunken driving accident by his best friend. So, when Professor Todd speaks to me in this way, I flinch and swallow back the tears that threaten to make an appearance.
“I’m sorry to have wasted your time,” I mutter and turn to leave.
I look up and see Wayne staring at me from the door, pain in his eyes. His mouth opens, but nothing comes out of it. I brush past him quickly, running through the halls towards the dean of the math department’s office to see if I can switch out of this class. Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I wipe at my eyes frantically and hit a solid mass. I stumble backward, but large hands grab my arms, steadying me, before gravity takes course.
“Whoa there. Are you okay?”
I grimace. That voice sounds familiar. I look up and see it’s the stranger from the bonfire. I quickly look away as my cheeks warm.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble as I glance at the floor.
Still holding onto my arms, he asks uncertainly, “What were you running from?” He looks over my shoulder.
I close my eyes briefly. “My demons, I guess,” I answer as truthfully as I can.
He tilts his head, studying me. When I say nothing further, he exhales. “Okay. Are you going inside to see the dean?” I nod, and he smiles. “So am I, actually.” He opens the door, “Ladies first,” and waits for me to walk through before following behind me.
I ask the dean’s secretary if there is availability for the dean to see me now. She rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath as she checks the calendar on the computer.
“What is the meeting for?”
“My class schedule.” I shift nervously on my feet, hoping I can pass her interrogation.
“I guess you can, if you are quick.” She looks over my shoulder and then back at me again.
I mumble a thank you and take a seat.
I fidget in my chair as Professor Todd’s words go through my head, and I try not to notice him staring at me from the chair beside me. The dean finally steps out of his office and smiles at both of us.
“Favor? I’m surprised to see you here. Would you mind if I speak to Brice first?” Brice. So that’s his name.
“Dean Smith, I’m okay with waiting. You can let Favor go in first,” Brice interjects.
Dean Smith perks an eyebrow. “You sure? I don’t want to make you late for practice.”
Practice? Oh, figures I would be attracted to a football player. I should’ve guessed it from the beginning, considering I met him at a bonfire thrown for the football team. I was hoping that, by some off chance, he was just a regular student. A well fit, muscular student with the body of a Greek god.
“I’m sure,” Brice says, and gives me a kind smile that I return before heading into Dean Smith’s office.
“Okay, Favor, have a seat,” he says, as he closes the door behind us. Taking a seat, I wring my hands. “What’s the problem?”
“I’d like to switch out of my trig class.” I rush the words out, for fear that I might start to cry again.
He leans forward in his seat. “Why? Is there a problem with the curriculum?”
“No, sir. I would like to see if I can get an earlier class, perhaps?”
“Favor, you do realize that you are a month into the class already. It would be tough for me to do this for you.”
I’m frantic at this point and ready to burst into tears. My shoulders droop, and my head dips down. I search my brain for an excuse to give him. “It’s just that, this trig class is at the end of the day, and I feel that I’m way too exhausted by that time. I have a lull in between my morning classes. I can maybe fill it with another class instead, freeing me up for an early afternoon. I can get in much more studying that way.”
“Favor, I really would love to do this for you. But all the classes are booked. Your only other option would be independent study if you need to do this. Granted, you won’t get the full credit as you are with your current class, but it is something. It is an online course, which doesn’t work for everyone, but some thrive on it.”
“Sold, I’d love to do that.” I place my hands on my knees that are knocking.
He looks at me warily. “Umm, okay. Again, you do understand that this is highly unusual a month into the class?”
“Yes, Dean Smith, I do, but it would be greatly appreciated.” I give him my best fake smile.
“Okay, then. I’ll have you fill out some paperwork for dropping a class and adding in the independent study class.”
“No problem. I can do this on the school’s student portal?”
“Yes. I’ll email you the link. Please make sure you complete it no later than tomorrow.”
“I will,” I say as I stand up to leave. “Thanks again, Dean Smith.”
He gives me a smile, and I open the door to leave, feeling like my burdens have been lifted. When I walk back into the waiting area, I see Brice. Back straight and eyes forward, I straighten my outfit, and I’m about to walk past him, but he speaks to me. “See you around.” I turn around to see his scorching gaze on me. I tingle slightly.
“Brice. I can see you now,” Dean Smith calls, breaking the spell Brice has over me. He turns to look at the dean, and I use this as my opportunity to escape. Here I am, running from yet another demon. This time, it is a six-foot-three brown-eyed demon that makes me melt whenever he looks at me.
Outside, I stop to catch my breath. Cal sees me from across the quad and waves at me frantically to wait for him.
“Where are you off to?” Cal asks.
“On my way back to the dorm to study.”
He grabs my arm and tugs me in the opposite direction of my dorm. “Oh no, you’re not. You’re coming with me. Jana has squad practice, and we’re going to watch. Also, the Cougars are practicing, so we get to look at some really hot guys in tight pants.”
I freeze. The thought of stepping foot in a football stadium sends my stomach into knots. I hated football because it took my mother and father away from me for most of my life. Now I hate it because it also serves as a reminder of watching my brother play in this stadium. I feel ill at the thought, and pull my arm out of Cal’s grasp. “I don’t think so. I really need to get back to the dorm.”
Cal digs his heels in. “No. You’r
e always studying. Just be a normal college student for once. Please? Keep me company, at least, and support Jana. You never do anything with us, but you call us your closest friends.”
Way to lay on the guilt trip. I’m already feeling shitty about the events of my day and now this. But he’s right. I don’t do the things that they like to do. I guess I do suck as a friend. I bite my bottom lip. “Fine, I’ll go. But afterward, I do have to do some studying.”
Cal gives me a hug, and we link arms, heading to the stadium. Sitting on the bleachers, we watch as the cheerleaders work on some new routines. Jana is amazing with her backflips and jumps. Most of the girls watch her in envy. I’m pretty sure I would’ve been on the cheerleading squad as well, if my brother were still alive. I was the leader of my high school cheer squad, and my mother had hopes of me joining this squad as well. But after Trevor’s death, my heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I ever was really into it. I think I was doing it just to feel a connection to my mother, not realizing at the time that it would never connect us the way I was looking for.
“Jana, you kicked ass out there, girlfriend.” Cal beams. I was so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t realize practice had finished.
“Yeah, Jana, you looked great out there.” And she did. Jana is a natural-born cheerleader. She is always cheering people on in a supportive way with her bubbly personality. Jana has such an infectious laugh that makes anyone smile and feel warm inside.
“Thanks, guys. Favor, thank you for coming out.” Jana smiles brightly at me as she wipes her forehead with a towel.
“Well, Cal, wouldn’t let me not go. He has pointed out that I’m a horrible friend,” I joke.
“Oh, Cal. She isn’t a horrible friend. She’s perfect.” Jana beams.
He rolls his eyes upward. “Oh, go change clothes so we can grab something to eat.”
