by S. E. Hall
“I better not; I’m not really a drinker.”
“Laney, you’re safe here. I’m not trying to seduce you, I promise. If one more glass would make you feel better, have one.”
It only takes her a few seconds to think about it. “Okay. One more, please. It really is helping me relax.”
I go get her another glass of wine, and when I return, she asks me what time it is. I know she needs her rest because of school in the morning. “Just after one, what time’s your first class tomorrow?”
“I’m not going,” she gushes.
“Well, while one day of missing won’t ruin you, I’m more interested in why you’re not going. Won’t you get in trouble with your coach?’
“No, not over one absence, as long as I’m at practice; or I could say I’m sick. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I’m staying. I was serious before. I could just say to hell with it and go home, right?”
I’m not sure if she’s asking me or asking herself out loud, but I can see she’s getting herself worked up again, and I definitely don’t want that, nor do I want her to leave. I want her in my house, in my care. I never bring girls here and yet this girl…I’d give her a key right now if I thought she’d take it. I’d give Laney the key to a lot of things.
“Yeah, Laney, you could quit, but you don’t strike me as a quitter. You could also stay and be great. It’s up to you though. What do you want?”
“Maybe that’s my problem. I’m not 100% on anything. You know what I mean?”
“Not yet, keep talking.”
She proceeds to tell me about ball, how she’s not sure if she plays for herself or her dad, how she’s not sure if it really feels like a chore or she’s just telling herself that. But then, the more she talks, the more her eyes sparkle and I can see she loves it. She loves coming out on top of the pitcher, she loves how she feels when she knows she’s got it on point, sending it over the fence. So I tell her what I see when she speaks, and she agrees she needs to give ball just a little more time.
That means I have to take her to practice tomorrow late afternoon, but until then, she’s here with me and I can’t even comprehend what that does to me inside. One thing she said earlier really bothered me, though, and I have to know, the thought of this exquisite creature being unsafe makes me ill. I knew she was guarded the minute I met her, and I want to know why.
“Laney, can you tell me what you meant earlier about a stalker and a head in a box?”
Her expression completely changes to cold and hesitant. “It’s nothing; I was being a drama queen when I said it.”
“Explain it to me anyway.” The sternness in my voice lets her know I’m serious. I’m not conceding on this.
“Just every once in a while I get a card or a note or gift from like a secret admirer. They never say anything mean or threatening, they’re actually always complimentary. And the arrivals are sporadic, have been for years. Evan knows about it, but that’s it. I got a card when I first started at Southern. That was the last thing.”
“I’m not sure that’s something to take lightly, Laney. I’m glad I know now, and I’m really glad I took you to a self-defense class.” Wow—what are the odds? The anger I feel that Evan knows about it shocks me. Of course I’m glad he knows and has undoubtedly looked out for her, but why do I feel like it’s now my job and I don’t need his help?
“I know, I thought the same thing. You should take up gambling.”
Oh, I guess I said the odds part out loud. I have to admit, as uneasy as this whole discovery makes me, I feel a small twinge of something. I read her correctly and gave her something meaningful.
“Anyway, let’s talk about something else.” She waves her glass in the air to dismiss the topic, and I’ll let her think we’re moving on, for now. I don’t want to pressure her into shutting down on me, but I’m not done with the issue.
And then I go for it; I ask her to tell me more about Evan. I’m not sure I can hear her talk about him, but I have to know precisely what I’m up against.
When she talks of him, there’s such love and respect in her eyes. She truly cares about this guy. She honestly shudders at the thought of hurting him; he’s one lucky son of a bitch. But then a tear rolls down her face when she tells me again about not talking to him and she’s afraid they even lost the friendship, and I want to hurt him now—he made her cry. I wonder if she’s not in love with him, but rather simply loves him. I’m sad she’s hurting, but this gives me another flash of hope.
The next thing she says makes me happy to be alive. “And then there’s, well….”
“What else, Laney?”
“I barely know you, but I enjoy being around you and I’m not sure it’s as innocent as I tell myself it is, or if that’s okay. I almost feel guilty, like I’m doing something wrong to Evan, but I’m not really. Do you understand at all?”
I’ve never even close to loved anyone other than family, but God knows I like hearing her say she’s feeling something about me, whatever it is.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she whispers, looking down. “I should have corrected you before; I’m not a liar.”
“I know you’re not, Laney, and I already knew.”
Her head comes up, eyes wide. “You did?”
I nod. She doesn’t realize she’s been honest with me all along really. I’d asked her about Evan while we danced, and she’d answered that he was her best friend before even thinking. Her omission tonight had been about self-preservation, not deceit. “How did you feel about other breakups? Was it this bad?” I ask her.
“I’ve never had any other breakups. Evan’s the only boyfriend I’ve ever had, and I didn’t have him very long.”
I can’t stop my jaw from dropping open. Where is this town she comes from that’s obviously filled with the dumbest bastards on the planet? How do you not scoop up Laney? “Laney, how old are you?”
“I’ll be 19 on the 23rd, why?”
I file her birthday in my mental cabinet. The 23rd of this month? That doesn’t give me very long to orchestrate something spectacular, which is exactly what I plan to do. “I’m just trying to figure out how a breathtaking, funny, witty, kind 19-year-old has only had one boyfriend.”
She looks down; my compliment embarrasses her and that little tongue pops out to skim her lips. “Thank you, Dane, that’s so sweet. And, well, your question…can we do that another night? I don’t have any more big sharing sessions left in me tonight.” She gives me a sweet smile, her eyes begging me to drop it.
It dawns on me that Laney is literally starting over. Her be-all permanent fixtures are gone. No Evan, no Dad, new ball team, co-ed dorm; she’s as brave as she is beautiful. Part of her wants it, the new experiences—I can see it in her eyes. But the other part is terrified and this fierce loyalty to Evan and what she believes to be the behavior that most honors him is a constant torment for her.
She breaks my thoughts when she asks me, barely audibly, “Are you scared off yet?”
If she only knew all the demons I haven’t even begun to hint at, she wouldn’t even ask.
I pull her in for a hug and place a gentle kiss on her head before I know I’m doing it. I want to take care of this girl, hold her, and make everything better. I want to be the reason she laughs, smiles, gasps. What is she doing to me? “You don’t scare me, Laney. You amaze me, you intrigue me.” I let my lips graze her temple. “You captivate me.” I land soft kiss closer to her ear. “You entice me, you excite me…but you don’t scare me, and I hope I never scare you.”
Her eyes grow wide, her breathing speeds…and then she deflects. “Oh, please,” she scoffs, brushing off the gravity of the moment, right before the she-devil splashes me! This, of course, launches a full blown water war that keeps us laughing and touching for a while.
At around four in the morning, I wrap her in a towel and lead the way to the guest room, getting some of my clothes for her to sleep in. The thought of her in my clothes makes me feel, well, happy. I underst
and her so much better after all our talk tonight. She’s going through a lot, dealing with many new feelings…but she’d admitted right out loud, she’s 100% single.
It’s been the best night of my life. Game on, Evan.
BRING IT PONG
I manage to not drop out or run home and finally enjoyed a lunch with Zach in The Rotunda, the school cafeteria/lounge, for the first time on Friday. Bennett and I still plan to attend his game and we make plans to do something after, but not too late since I have that clinic at the ass crack of dawn on Sunday. I still haven’t talked to Evan…total communication blackout. No, I haven’t reached out to him either and yes, it was textbook stubborn Laney, but waiting for him to reach out just feels like something I have to do.
On Saturday, the Eagles win 34-17 and a hyped-up Zach, Bennett, and I head off campus for pizza. Tate shows up to sweep Bennett away so Zach and I opt to grab a movie and head back to his room. Drew is there when we get there, with some girl, but they head out to a frat party, an invitation we both decline immediately. While Zach takes a shower, I run back to my room to grab my phone charger.
“Laney! Come be on my team!” Bennett squeals as I walk in, my glare taking in the scene of beer pong. In our room? It’s like a 4x4 space and they’re spilling beer everywhere. That’s not what I care about most, though—the fact that Whitley is sitting on my bed in my room watching is what has me ready to kill someone.
“Laney, you want winners? You can be my partner,” Sawyer asks me as I dig through drawers. I don’t dare to look up and answer him for fear I might catch Dane in my line of vision. If I do, it won’t be pretty.
“No, I’m good, Saw, just grabbing my charger real quick.” I keep my head down. Where is the damn thing? I’m about to give up and just get out of here. “You kick their asses though, buddy.”
“Where are you going?” I don’t need to look up to know who’s asking.
“Back to Zach’s room, we grabbed a movie.” I finally look up despite myself and catch Dane’s eyes staring into me.
“Go tell him to get his pretty ass in here, Laney! Y’all play me and Bennett!” Sawyer yells from the game.
Whitley snickers. “I’ll play you guys, Sawyer. Dane, come on, sweetie, let’s play them.”
Sitting on my bed—I probably could’ve let it go. But dismissing me in my own room—so not gonna fly. Calling Dane “sweetie” to purposely drag him away and antagonize me—challenge accepted, girlfriend.
I give Bennett a look across the room. She tries like hell to hide her smirk; she knows what’s up.
“Set it up, I’ll be right back with Zach.” I run down the hall like I’m on fire, adrenaline coursing through me.
I bust into the room, out of breath, and Zach looks at me quizzically, pulling on his shirt. “Where’d you go? And why are you out of breath?”
I dart my eyes away quickly while he gets the shirt completely in place. Nice abs there, Zachary. “Change of plans, big boy. You good at beer pong?”
“I’m in college and I’m good at everything.” He grins. “Need you ask?”
“Zach, I’ll do your laundry for a month if you help me win this game, okay? Come on.” I drag him through the door.
“Well, hold up there, hot rod, do I need shoes? Keys?”
“No, nothing, you’re great, just come on,” I plead, pulling him even faster now.
I don’t make eye contact with Dane when I walk back in my room. I do however, stare directly at Whitley. “Me and Zach versus you and ‘sweetie,’” I challenge, the last word acidic. “Let’s go.”
Bennett snickers as she, Tate, and Sawyer settle in for a good view of the show. Bad news, Whit—I am a hollaback girl.
“You don’t have to do my laundry, girl. This is gonna be fun. Let’s get ‘em,” Zach whispers in my ear, giving me a fist bump.
“Oh, hells yeah! Kick their asses, Laney!” I love Sawyer.
Dane is trying everything he can to avoid Whitley’s roaming hands. He’s standing so far away from her he may as well be in another room. Zach and Sawyer start throwing out the smack talk, but when Bennett cranks up her phone for Jock Jams “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble,” we all burst into mad laughter.
“Ladies first,” Zach says, handing me a ping pong ball.
“I’m a lady, too,” Whitley pouts, “how come she gets to go first?”
“Good point, Whitley. I think you and Laney should arm wrestle to see who goes first.” Bennett says it with the most serious face she can muster.
I cock an eyebrow at Whitley, telling her I am so down with that plan.
“N-no, that’s okay,” she sputters nervously, “she can go ahead.”
All the guys in the room are hanging on each and every word. What guy doesn’t like good ole cat fight foreplay?
I sink my first ball and stare holes through Whitley as she downs the beer in the cup. Zach steps up and makes it. We do a chest bump and Sawyer slaps my butt. I jump a bit, almost shocked, but in a millisecond it changes to an aura of comfort. I belong here! I’m just one of the guys!
“Nice shot,” Dane mumbles as he hands me the ball.
Why is he handing me back the ball? I scrunch my brows in confusion.
“Your team goes again since you both made it,” he explains.
Ah.
We’re down to four cups and just as I’m about to throw again, Zach grabs my arm. “Hold up, you like the cups like that?”
Again—first time I’ve played. “I don’t know what you’re asking me, Zach. I’ve never played.”
“We can re-rack if we want. They have to rearrange the cups like we want, but we can only do it once. I like a square, or we can wait and do a straight line at three cups. Your call.”
Well, obviously there’s only one person to answer such a difficult question for me, I consult the expert. Sawyer’s already holding up three fingers when I look to him. He knew I’d seek his infinite wisdom in all that is college party games. “Wait for three cups?” I ask him.
“Yup,” he says with a nod.
“Uh, no fair,” Whitley’s whine is barely worse than her regular voice. “You’re not in the game, Sawyer, you can’t help her.”
I roll my eyes and turn my head, Bennett snaring my attention. Covertly, she acts out her evil little plan. I finally figure out what the hell she’s trying to tell me and shake my head no at her with a laugh. Pegging Whitley in the head with my ping pong ball is probably a bit much. Love the way your mind works though, Bennett!
“It’s no big deal, Whitley, she’s never played before,” Dane tells her with an exasperated look on his face.
Now that all that’s settled, I step up to throw and swoosh it right in the cup again. This time I look at Dane and he’s beaming. I give him a smirk in return; how ya like that, mister? He winks.
“You got this,” I encourage my partner.
Zach misses his shot and drops his head on my shoulder in defeat.
I giggle and pat his back. “Next time, killer.”
Whitley steps up, her ball sailing over all the cups and I instinctively reach out and catch it.
“Atta girl, Lanester! Fucking drink up, Whit!” Sawyer hoots, throwing mad Jersey Shore fists in the air.
I turn to Zach and shrug my shoulders, causing him to laugh.
“Catch in the air means we get to pick one of our cups for them to remove,” he explains. “Doesn’t really matter since we have a re-rack coming, so tell her which to drink, superstar.”
I randomly point to one of the cups on their end and smile over at Bennett while Whitley has to chug a lug again, putting my team at two cups left!
Dane steps up to throw and all of a sudden I feel bad. We’re whipping their asses, he’s noticeably uncomfortable, and I’m antagonizing the hell out of him. So I decide to throw him a bone…I raise my arms above my head and lean back, like I’m yawning and stretching at the same time. The coolness hits my tummy as my shirt rises ever so slightly and I pop back up, pulling it down in mock sh
yness. “Oh my, sorry about that.” I bat my eyelashes at him then quickly look to Bennett for telepathic moral support.
Tate looks up at me and mouths, “You are terrible,” but his smile confirms he loves watching me torture his brother. I guess Dane made his shot because Zach is drinking when I turn my attention back to the game.
I miss on my next turn, still a little flustered from my sudden brazenness, but am rewarded nonetheless when I finally dare a peek at Dane. He’s staring at me, as though just waiting for when I’d look, and the light in his eyes makes me feel beautiful, brave, and silly…like tonight is okay.
The game is over in just a few more throws and as much as I don’t really want to, I begrudgingly ask everyone to leave since I have an early morning. Zach gives me a big hug and makes me promise we’re set partners anytime there’s pong to be played and I eagerly agree while Tate and Bennett sneak away to sleep in his room so they don’t keep me up. Whitley awkwardly hangs out a few minutes longer than she should before finally asking Dane to walk her out.
When they’re gone, Sawyer turns me by my shoulder to face him. “He’ll never just be blatantly rude to her, Laney. He can’t, and he doesn’t have it in him, anyway. But don’t get it twisted; he’s never looked at her, or anyone, like he looks at you. Try and remember that, okay?” His eyes seek mine for acceptance of what he’s just revealed.
Shocked into a silent stupor, I simply nod.
“Night then, kick ass tomorrow, sweetie,” he playfully throws over his shoulder on his way out.
I swat his butt at his sarcastic attempt at humor, ‘cause we swat each other’s butts now, right?
Just as I make my way out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and jammies donned, I hear a light knock at the door. A peephole isn’t even an option, but I’m not too worried about it, probably just one of them forgot something.
He’s looking at the ground when I crack open the door, but slowly his head lifts and his soulful brown eyes move to mine.
