The Crashing Series

by Kristen Hope Mazzola

  Sixteen

  I was so thrilled that we were finally going to be tailgating again as I excitedly pulled myself out of bed to my school’s fight song blaring at me instead of my normal beeping alarm tone. The group Walker had been able to round up was almost our entire old gang. The plan was for all of us to meet up at the fraternity house and then walk over to the usual tailgating spot.

  I woke up at the crack of dawn to get everything ready. For a one o’clock game, we could start our extravaganza at nine a.m. on campus, so the plan was to make sure everyone was beer-in-hand at the fraternity house before the clock struck eight. The anticipation coursed through my veins as I pulled my cooler out of the garage and into the kitchen. The night before, I had stocked up on tons of beer, limes, burger meat, and all the rest of the fixings. Now I started to load all of it into the cooler. I was an old pro at tailgating, being from a student body that partied harder than our team played, and I was ready to let loose again with all of my old friends.

  I could hear Walker’s feet shuffling across my bedroom floor before he started the shower. I was shocked that he was up this early, feeling bad for probably waking him. I poured a few bags of ice over the cooler’s contents and slammed the lid shut.

  Still in my pajamas, I made my way up the stairs as the pipes stopped whining, indicating the end of Walker’s shower. I was humming our fight song, happily looking for my favorite college shirt that had never missed a game day yet, when damp arms wrapped around my shoulders. Grinning, I turned around to face Walker, who was only wearing a towel.

  Looking up into his beautiful eyes only made my excitement even more evident, but a twinge of nerves surged up. “How do you think everyone will react to us?”

  He looked down at me with a frown. “Do you want to keep it a secret?”

  I could see this was something that had not even occurred to Walker, and I didn’t want to be selfish, but all of these people had been Randy’s friends, too. “Walker, I don’t know. I don’t want to be the next frat scandal.” I let my head fall into his chest, softly kissing his tattooed pecs. Man, his skin smells so good.

  “Look.” Walker’s hand under my chin gave me no option but to look at him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You’re so excited. We’re friends. Let’s just be that for the day. No kissing, no handholding, just Walker and Mags as usual.”

  I sighed with relief and snuggled up to him. “Thanks, Walker.” I kissed him deeply and then got dressed in my game-day best: boat shoes, white jean shorts, and my lucky shirt. I sat on the floor and applied a simple layer of makeup while my flat iron heated up.

  I turned around when I heard my door squeal a little to see Walker with a shit-eating grin on his face, standing with his arms crossed in my doorway. “Why don’t you do that in the bathroom like normal people, Mags?”

  I sighed and then smirked. “You know it’s been a habit since you guys lived in the frat house. Besides, this is more comfortable.”

  Walker strode over to the bed in his khaki cargo shorts and black cutoff that said ‘Bust the U’ in gold letters and took a seat. I tamed my frizzy mess while Walker strolled me down the memory lane of hilarious drunken game days. I was snapped back to reality when five text messages came to my phone all at once, all along the lines of it being beer-thirty.

  Standing in front of the fraternity house and digging for a beer in my cooler made my entire body shake with anticipation of a wonderful day with old friends. Once I’d started getting messages while pampering myself, Walker had hopped into action and gotten us straight to our fun-filled day of boozing as fast as possible. We kept a casual distance in the crowd of our former classmates. Everything seemed to be back to normal in my old world, and the comfort of friends and smiling faces warmed up my icy guilt. I was surprised at how casually people would talk about Randy or throw out funny stories about him. I was so used to people treating me with kid gloves that the calmness and normalcy almost felt thick in the hot fall Florida heat.

  The house had not changed since the first time I’d stepped foot in it my first week on campus. The walls were beer-stained white, with years and years of fraternity member portrait collages hanging, dating back to when their fraternity first debuted on campus. The smell of locker room, cologne, and booze wafted into my memory and brought a smile to my face. This was the first place I’d met the greatest guy friends I’d ever had. All of those years ago, I’d never pictured my life to be the way it was now—knee-deep in confusion and depression. Luckily, that heavy sadness was starting to release me.

  Warm arms glided around my shoulders, sending me crashing back into real time. A deep, raspy voice curled in my ear. “Mags, let’s keep this day just about remembering the good times.”

  I spun around slowly in Mitch’s arms and gazed up into his ice blue eyes as he wiped a tear from my cheek. I nodded and pulled him into me. I hadn’t realized I had wandered into the room Randy and Walker had shared and started crying. Luckily, Mitch was the only one in our group to notice my suddenly melancholy state.

  In our large assembly, we gathered our coolers, tents, chairs, grill, and long table and began our short trek to our usual tailgating spot. I chatted about Professor Ridgeway—whom I’d loved in school—with a junior Mitch had just introduced me to. Apparently, over the years, she had stopped being the cool psychology professor who let you get extra credit by juggling in the front of the class. Now she was the one who, on a professor rating website, had all sad faces and warnings from former students that her tests were nightmares and that she loved to strike red all over final papers.

  Setting down my chair in the shadiest spot I could find, I sighed. “I guess everything really does change over time.” The junior cracked another beer and said that he didn’t mind the difficult work as long as he learned something. I was shocked because that was the first time I could remember someone saying those words and actually meaning them.

  From a few steps away, Walker motioned to me that we were up in beer pong, and I reluctantly obliged. I was absolutely terrible at drinking games and enjoyed spectating with a casual beer much more.

  To my surprise, I made the first two cups of the game and started to enjoy a little friendly competition. Walker was the perfect mix of calm and excitement I needed. Even with every sip of beer, he kept his promise of friends only for the day and acted like our passionate fighting, lovemaking, and almost relationship were nonexistent.

  After playing a few rounds and beating the pants off Mitch and the junior whose name I couldn’t remember, Walker and I went to try our luck at corn hole. That was where my luck ran dry. I couldn’t even get the beanbag onto the board, even though I was trying. Luckily, by that point, most people were too drunk to care or even continue the game.

  The sun started to beat down on the backs of our necks as the wind died down to nothing. It was just about eleven in the morning and I was feeling no pain. Stumbling over to where Walker was chatting with some girl I didn’t know, I slid my arm around his waist, asking him to escort me to the bathroom. Smiling at the temptress with his flirty grin, he excused himself. He threw his arm around my shoulders and started to guide me along, keeping my steps as straight as possible.

  Once we were safely out of sight of anyone my drunken eyes could recognize, I gripped Walker’s shoulder and pushed him up against the wall of a building. With my face inches away from his, I slurred, “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s working.” Without another word, our lips collided and Walker’s hands were gripping my hips.

  After a few whistles and hoots from co-eds walking by, Walker broke from my grasp, panting. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. But if jealousy does this to you, I might need to consider it.” He gripped my sides firmly, letting his lips gently dance over mine. “Mags, I’m yours. You have nothing to worry about.” Walker kissed the nape of my neck, letting his tongue taste my tingling skin, which was yearning to feel more of him. Then he lifted me off the ground, holding me firmly enough that I
could feel the magnificent ripples of his sinewy physique.

  I wrapped my legs around him and I breathed out, relieved by his words as they soaked into my beer-doused, jealous brain. “Okay, good, because I’m yours. Can you forgive me?”

  Walker set me down, leaning my swaying body against the wall, his Southern accent thicker than normal. “Mags, I know ya better than you think. It’s flattering when you’re protective.” His mouth tasted mine more intensely, his tongue grazing my own, and his teeth softly nibbled my lower lip, sending chills of passion through every nerve in my body before he walked me the rest of the way to the bathrooms.

  By the time we made our way back to the tailgate area, it was time to start loading up.

  After shoveling a few bits of a charred hotdog into my mouth, I folded a bunch of chairs and helped load up the few truck beds pledges had driven over. It was so convenient having them around. I realized how much I’d enjoyed their devoted help for years. Always being the significant other of an older brother really had its perks. While I’d been in school, Randy had made sure I was driven to and from the classes he couldn’t take me to, and we’d always had a sober driver no matter where we were going.

  Looking back on all of the people I’d grown up with during my college years, I saw how much I really had gained—not just from Randy, but from all of the guys I’d had the privilege of getting to know. A wave of sentimental emotions rolled over me and I walked over and hugged Mitch tightly. He looked down at my drunken face and smiled. I was known to be an affectionate drunk.

  We all made our way back to the fraternity house to watch the game out of the sun and the heat. Being in the stands was always exciting, but being on a comfy couch in the air conditioning was not easy to beat in the hotter-than-hell Florida weather. I was sandwiched in between Mitch and the junior who hated his psychology teacher on a couch that was probably older than any of us, judging by the holes and faded gray spots all over.

  We all started booing when our school’s wide receiver fumbled the ball. Walker was sitting on the floor right in front of me. He reached down into his pocket to hand me my phone, placing it in my lap. Letting his fingers glide slowly across my thigh, he asked if I needed another beer. I nodded and creased my brow, wondering why he’d even had my cell in the first place. I shrugged, remembering that my pockets were shallow and I was not the most put-together drunk.

  I scrolled through my missed texts, responding to one from Cali, telling her not to worry, that everything was fine and I was not a blubbering idiot like she had assumed. Continuing to check, I found one from Walker:

  That kiss was amazing; I can’t wait to get you home tonight… This sneaking around thing is kinda hot…

  I was startled by Mitch leaning into my ear. “Sorry, Mags. I didn’t mean to see that, but what the fuck are you thinking?”

  My heart sank. Thankfully Mitch had had the wherewithal to whisper, but I was mortified nonetheless. I was frozen, staring into his furious face.

  In a huff, Mitch jumped to his feet and started for the kitchen where Walker was. I was panicked by the time I heard Mitch yell, “It hasn’t even been a fucking year yet, man! What the hell?”

  “Mitch, what business is it of yours? He’s not coming back. Do you want her to be alone forever?”

  Everyone shot their eyes back and forth from the kitchen to me as I sat paralyzed on the couch. I leapt to my feet when I heard a loud crash and started to run for the guys. Walker was breathing heavily and holding himself up on the counter with blood trickling from his bottom lip; it was already starting to swell. Mitch’s nostrils flared and his chest heaved, his face a mangled mess of shock and pissed off with a little twinge of regret floating around. Tears were streaming down my face and I hugged Walker’s middle as tightly as I could. He bent down, softly kissing my cheek.

  I turned and looked at Mitch with rage-filled darkened eyes. I couldn’t help but lash out. “I love you Mitch, but this is your big brother!” I gestured to Walker and Mitch’s eyes fell to the floor, defeated. “You know what he and I have been going through! Can’t you just be fucking happy for us?” My face was within an inch of Mitch’s and Walker had to pull me back a little to make me come back into his arms. I lost it, blubbering into Walker’s shirt.

  Walker snarled at Mitch, trembling in my arms. “Look, man, this ain’t your business and you making her upset sure has pissed me the fuck off, so fucking apologize!”

  When Mitch stood silent, Walker flew from my arms, his fist colliding with Mitch’s stomach. I started to scream at them as they grappled to the floor, rolling around and grunting at each other.

  Through muffled and panting breaths, I heard Walker’s Southern accent demand Mitch apologize to me, and I could hear Mitch’s husky tone grunting about being pissed off at Eva and taking it out on us.

  A few of their brothers came rushing into the kitchen and pulled the flailing, drunken fighters to opposite sides of the room. I stood in the middle, frantically looking from one to the other, not knowing what to do or say.

  Mitch’s voice huffed into a defeated sigh, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Mags, I’m sorry, I was just shocked. That’s all. And with everything...” He locked his wide eyes on the floor and angrily rubbed the back of his neck a few times.

  I looked around to all of the bystanders as Walker came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist, kissing the back of my head. No one looked mad; only sadness blanketed their faces. Everyone started to murmur amongst themselves, shrugging.

  One of the guys broke from the group and clapped Walker on the shoulder, smiling down at me. “We all miss Randy, but...if you two are really together, who are we to judge?”

  Mitch handed Walker a towel to sop up the blood from his busted lip. “If you hurt her, man, a fat lip won’t be your only punishment.” They both chuckled. Walker agreed he would treat me as well as I deserved, and I nodded that I would do the same for Walker.

  Unknowingly, Walker and I had just solidified ourselves as a couple without even thinking it through. A slight panic rose in my chest, not knowing if I was really ready for that kind of commitment. I waved away my insecurities and stress to enjoy the moment.

  We all gathered back into the living room to watch the end of the game. Like we had predicted, our team fell short, never able to recover from that fumble in the first quarter. We were used to the disappointment by now, so no one seemed too upset at the loss. Walker and I said our goodbyes to everyone and made our way to his truck hand in hand. I was so relieved that everything had gone well—or at least had ended well.

  Opening the door for me, Walker grinned. “Do you want to go home, take a shower, and then go out tonight?”

  I smiled back at him and nodded. I was finally ready to act like a couple, so why not go and celebrate my newfound happiness? It was just one more step out of the darkness of my depression, and I was so glad to be taking it.

  Seventeen

  After getting home, taking a shower, and napping, the long day of tailgating still weighed heavily on my mind. Even though it had been a great day, the regret of how Mitch had found out about Walker and me was a little rough for me to deal with. I pushed the guilt and stress from my mind once Walker’s truck turned off in the parking lot of The Saloon. I was determined to not let anything ruin the night with Walker.

  Walker’s hand rested on the small of my back as we made our way to our usual spot at the back bar top of The Saloon. Even with all of the line dancing, boots stomping, and music blaring, I could still hear my breathing and heartbeat quicken at the slightest touch from him. Through the dim lighting, I turned and beamed up into his light green eyes, happy we weren’t fighting anymore. Right then, I promised myself that Randy would not assault my thoughts and ruin the evening again, but it was getting more painful as the smell of the bar brought back so many memories.

  The dirty carpet reminded me of the first time Walker and Randy had taken Cali and me to The Saloon during freshman year. She and I had be
en appalled that the guys had brought us to such a dump. After a few shots, Cali and I had been tearing up the dance floor, making Randy and Walker teach us every line dance possible.

  The smile on the bartenders’ faces brought back how Randy had known every one of the veteran barkeeps. Hot red filled my cheeks at that thought; most of the people here had known Randy before he died, and here I was, making goo-goo eyes at his best friend. Suddenly, I felt sick.

  Climbing onto the barstool, I gestured a polite nod at a not-so-pleasant grin lurking at the other end of the bar. Cindy’s long blond hair whipped around as she made her way, huffing to the back room. After the events of the last time we’d seen each other, I would have done the same thing. I smiled to myself, knowing that the tramp had tried to sink her claws into Walker’s flesh for the last time. The little moment of victory was incredibly sweet. I heard him chuckle next to me, obviously seeing my triumphant grin.

  He ordered us two bottles of Bud and shots of whiskey, calling it our usual to our bartender. His hand slid into mine as I turned to face him. The dark-haired bartender smiled warmly and winked at me as she placed our order in front of us; apparently she’d enjoyed my effect on her coworker just as much as I had.

  “To roommates.” Walker grinned at me, holding his beer up for mine to clank against.

  I replied with a giggle, “To us,” and took a long swig of my beer.

  Next, we quickly threw back our shots. I thought Walker was going to spit his out from laughing at the awful face I made while letting the amber liquid burn my throat.

  “Come on, Mags. Don’t turn into a lightweight on me.” Walker knew exactly how to get my attention, and I gestured to have two more shots slammed onto the bar. We smiled at each other, saluted to a good night out, and fired the second round down. Chasing my whiskey with some beer, I popped off the stool and held my hand out for Walker. My favorite dance was starting and I was ready to do some boot scooting. Smiling, Walker grabbed my hand and led me onto the dance floor.