He definitely had the body of a player. Maybe in more ways than one, but that would be wrong of me to judge whether or not he fell into the typical college basketball star cliché. The one where the athletes went through girls like sweat rags. He did live in my building, so his partying lifestyle wasn’t unknown to me. Perhaps that’s why I only looked from afar. Kept my distance. Well that and I knew who I was and where I would most likely stand in regards to someone like him. He’d never once been seen with a woman of color, let alone a black girl. There was that, and then the obvious physical differences I had to the chicks he usually dated. He definitely had a specific… type would be a good word to describe them. Let’s just say those girls were on the lower end of the JC Penney’s catalog size chart, and I the upper. I didn’t consider myself massive by any means, but I did have some extra fluff, mainly hips and an ass.
I wasn’t ignorant. I knew the odds of someone like me being on the radar of someone like him were more than slim. That didn’t mean I couldn’t look at him or be led into his draw and the way he filled the air with his masculine presence. Succumb to those broad shoulders and large biceps trained for performance and not physique. Be distracted by his choppy, dirty blond hair and crystal blue eyes…
His sun kissed lashes flashed my way for only seconds as he made his way further into the laundry room, but the action was long enough for me to realize I let my gaze dance the line between appropriate glance and creepy stare.
Before my staring could cross the inappropriate line, I turned back to separate my whites from my darks for the wash. The familiar song of the laundry room’s change machine turning a bill into quarters sounded into the air, and I couldn’t help but give a small smile.
I wonder if he’ll…
My question was answered before I could finish the thought. His scent wafting in the air indicated he was getting closer to me, that spicy smell of amber with a hint of something sweeter.
His arm crossed in front of me, his reach long and his body emanating warmth as his bicep was only inches from my shoulder. He dropped a single quarter into the area reserved for three quarters in my washer, the one I was separating my clothes on top of, then just as quickly, he was gone, his heat moving away from me. He went a few washers down and placed his clothesbasket in front of a free washing machine.
I quickly moved my lips to thank him for something he’d done before. “Um, thanks.”
He opened his washer, giving me a quick wink. “No problem. I don’t like the extra change in my pocket.”
He went on to prepare his laundry, and I did the same, all the time knowing it was that quarter. That damn quarter that had me here over an hour later than I usually did my laundry. I could curse his name. If it wasn’t bad enough that Griffin Chandler was gorgeous, he had to be nice, too. I knew I was naive. I mean, how many others had he probably given his extra quarter to? I wasn’t special. I knew that, but sometimes it was nice to just have the really good-looking, big man on campus pay a girl some attention. It just was.
I grunted at the ridiculousness that was me and shoved my whites into one washer. Griffin finished before me. He always did since he didn’t separate his clothes into two loads… not that I was paying attention.
He placed his basket on his hip and he was gone, no other words spoken between us. And that was our weekly exchange. I’d come in, he’d give me his extra quarter if he had to break change, and that was it until the next week.
Shaking my head—at once again, myself—I finished up preparing my washers, then sat at the folding table and got on my laptop. It was only thirty minutes to wash so I didn’t bother making the trip from the laundry room back to my building. There was only one washing facility for all the buildings, and my apartment was pretty much on the other side of the complex. It would take me a good five to ten minutes to get there so there wasn’t a point in going all the way there if only to come back.
I hit up all the usual places on the net. Social media and what not. I didn’t bother with my emails, knowing it was close to Valentine’s Day. There would be a lot of requests coming in the next few days, and I didn’t want to deal with that until I got back to my place.
My thoughts flashed at what I might be asked to do, to wear…
Inadvertently, my fingers went to my hoodie, zipping it up as if it was a security blanket. As if it would cover me from the potential reality that swam within my head.
The telltale buzzer of the washers summoned my thoughts back to the small campus laundry room, and I changed my loads over to dryers. I wasn’t surprised I didn’t see Griffin come back and switch his own things over. I never saw him do the switch. I assumed he was one of those that left his laundry overnight and then dried it in the morning. I probably should start doing that too since it really is late.
My eyes grew heavy as they always did before the dryers could finish. I never needed all the time anyway. So with twenty minutes left on each dryer, I pulled my things out and stuffed them into my hamper. I tossed its sling and my laptop bag over the same shoulder and left the laundry room.
“I bet a lot of money on that game, man.”
I froze as I came upon the corner of the laundry building.
“And what does that have to do with me?”
I didn’t recognize the first voice, but I definitely did the second. That was Griffin. I snuck a look around the edge of the building. Griffin stood there, his laundry basket on his hip, and two black dudes were in front of him. They had their fists together, and the proximity they had to Griffin was really close. Almost like they were trying to intimidate him.
One of the guys cracked his fists, popping large fingers. “I think you know exactly what that means. I bet for you guys to win, kid.”
Griffin’s lips turned up. “Well, I guess it’s good we won then.”
He attempted to pass him, but the small guy put his hand out, stopping him from passing.
Griffin stiffened immediately, turning his shoulder away from the guy he had a good foot of height on. “You don’t want to put your hands on me, man. Now, I suggest you let me pass.”
The little guy lifted his hands as if to say no threat. “We ain’t trying to start nothing. We’re just trying to get to the bottom of this. You see, my friend and I bet a lot of money on the game you ‘won,’ and we’re all but happy with the outcome. We lost, and we lost hard. Y’all should have smoked Stevenson-U with your season so far and their poor stats, yet you only won by four points. We bet you to win by at least ten and that was being safe. Your team should have pummeled them.”
I frowned. I didn’t even know you could bet that way. I shrugged. I didn’t know a lot of things about sports, so whatever, but I still didn’t get why these guys were giving Griffin a hard time.
Griffin remained stone-faced. “Everyone has an off day.”
He attempted to pass the guys again, but the big guy interceded this time, stepping in front of him. “Seems to be a little more than that going on. Perhaps you need to be reminded why you shouldn’t have off days.”
He pushed Griffin’s chest, and my heart leaped. What the hell?
Griffin barely stumbled at the push. In fact, he had his footing back so quickly I didn’t have time to blink. The next thing I knew, he tossed his clothesbasket to the ground and he was stepping up on the guy.
“Hey!”
Both men stopped with their fists still in midair. Their gazes shot my way, and I froze.
Shit. Did I just say that?
Chapter Two
Griffin
The voice halted what was quickly escalating into something that would most likely get me suspended a few games. Coach had a zero tolerance policy for his players fighting on or off the court, so if word got back to him, I was as good as benched. Perhaps the assholes who approached me knew that so they egged me on with their bullshit claims. I couldn’t help but be led into them, though. I may have been a country boy, but I never backed down when challenged—by anyone. I never started a figh
t in my life, but if I got dragged into one I sure as hell made sure it ended in my favor. Trailer park living and having three brothers had a way of toughing up a guy real quick. It was eat or get eaten where I came from, and this dude and his short-ass friend weren’t going to intimidate me.
The voice stopped all that though. At least for the time being. I didn’t lower my fists and neither did the other guys. Since their focus was on the person who interceded, I figured it was okay to loosen up and look as well.
I’d seen her before. This girl. I gave her my extra quarter when I broke a dollar for my laundry tonight, as well as a few other times… I think.
I said I think because, like tonight, she didn’t really look at me. Well not directly any way. She never did. She just accepted the quarter, thanked me with a quick glance, and went about her business like I did.
How I knew it was her in front of me right now, and those other times, was by her clothes. She usually wore black with splashes of color. Purple and black stripes or pink with those same stripes like her hoodie tonight. Kind of a punk/urban style.
I guess if I was going to be real I actually noticed her because of how she looked in the clothes. I mean, I usually only saw the backside of her as she was bent over a washer, and well, I wasn’t blind. I never stared. I didn’t want her thinking I was some kind of pig, but I definitely noticed I wasn’t ever alone in the laundry room. I kind of wished she would stare at me sometimes, which was weird because all people did was stare at me because of who I was. Guys. Girls…
Fuck all mighty the girls. That shit drove me crazy. When I was a wide-eyed freshman getting my first taste of the fame that came with playing for a nationally ranked team, I didn’t mind it. But now, four years later and being team captain, I wasn’t trying to deal with it. I had my fair share of college douchebaggery but nothing was more unattractive these days than a girl attempting to give you a lap dance after sucking off one of your teammates. Been there, done that.
But this girl in front of me never stared, and like I said, I kinda wished she had, if only to see her face. We crossed each other’s paths a few times, and I was naturally curious. I was definitely seeing her now as she stared at the fight that brewed before her. Naturally, she seemed terrified with her eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. I hated to see that look on her face. She had one of those sweet looks about her, almost innocent. I guess the large eyes did it. It was dark outside, but the laundry building’s outer lighting let me know her eyes weren’t the common brown I usually saw on dark girls. They were much lighter. I wished it was brighter so I could see them better. Like I said, I’d never seen such a thing on a black girl before. Other than that I supposed she was ordinary. Long, silky hair, round face, and full lips. She definitely didn’t seem like the type to go around breaking up fights. That fact was proven with the terror that laced her eyes, so why did she intercede?
The bigger dude in front of me must have wondered the same thing. He tipped his chin at her, fists still raised. “What?”
She simply blinked, and her mouth moved without words, like she was trying to find them. Eventually, her gaze moved from the three of us and focused on the guy who spoke.
She pushed her large bag further up her arm. “Two against one is kind of cheap, don’t you think?”
My eyes blinked this time. What is she doing?
Letting out a breath, she actually stepped up to the guy. “Maybe you guys should back off.”
Words couldn’t come to me at what was happening, and I felt my lips move up into a smile. This girl was maybe five two and here she was stepping up to two dudes. I didn’t need the help, but I definitely was impressed, and I didn’t impress easy.
The guys in front of me didn’t look impressed, though. Quite frankly they looked pissed the fuck off.
The short guy lowered his hands. I think we all had at this point. He cocked his head at the girl, snorting. “Maybe you should step off, bitch.”
Now, that kind of shit I didn’t tolerate. I moved in front of the girl, guiding her little body behind me. My arm brushed her hand that was on her bag, and she stiffened, clinching the bag tighter. I hoped she didn’t think I’d hurt her. We were on the same team here.
I pointed at the guy that called her outside of her name. I didn’t grow up with a momma, but I was well aware of how a woman should be treated. “Your issue is with me. Don’t say shit to her.”
I turned, looking over my shoulder at the girl. “Maybe you should get out of here.”
She gazed up, but it was no longer in fear of the situation. The look was less intense, her eyes trained on me, studying even, as they scanned. I lost that look when I heard motion in front of me. She moved to my side, and I faced forward. The guys closed the distance, and they were looking like they wanted to do more.
Shorty took the lead again. “I’d listen to him, sweetheart. Me and my boy have some time for you later though if you like.” He grinned, eyeing her up and down.
Fuck that shit. I moved to pummel the guy’s face in for even insinuating such a thing with his friend, but stopped when the girl took my attention by doing the weirdest thing.
She got even closer to the short guy, and the thing was, she didn’t look scared at all. The thought crossed my mind that maybe she was taking him up on his offer, but then she stopped, squinting hard at him.
What was she doing?
Suddenly, she smiled. “Fiery cock two fifty seven?”
What the…
The short guy looked as confused as I felt. His eyes shifted, but before he could react, the girl beside me continued.
She put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Fiery cock_257 it is you.”
The guy’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t know what you’re—”
“That is your username,” she said, pointing at him. “I recognize you from your profile picture on Heath Center’s emergency chat line. Remember me? Roxie? I helped you with your problem last week. You had that red rash on your dick. Did that cream the nurse told me to recommend to you help?”
I covered my mouth, an attempt to conceal the fact I was about to seriously lose my shit in a fit of laugher. The guy in front of me looked anything but amused. He made to back away, but his friend behind him—who was also losing his mind in laughter—blocked his path.
The short guy whipped around. “Shut the fuck up, dude.”
He didn’t stop, and the girl, Roxie, kept on. She pointed at his friend this time. “Is this your partner?”
The guy’s laughter cut off full stop and both men looked like they were going to vomit. I, on the other hand, couldn’t catch my breath I was laughing so hard and had to hold my stomach just to get ahold of myself. Before I knew it, the guys were backing away.
The short dude pointed at me. “We’ll let it go this time, Griffin, but I suggest you and your team start playing the way you should.”
This guy really had no intimidation points left, and I think he knew it because he ran off with his ‘partner’ before I could respond.
Turning, I had to give this girl Roxie a light round of applause. Five foot nothing and she managed to chase away two grown men. Well, at least one and a half grown men.
“That was awesome,” I told her.
Grinning her full lips, she shrugged. “No big. People sometimes forget that all anonymity goes out the window when you leave your profile icon on.”
I crossed my arms. “Still. It was brilliant.”
Biting her lip, she dipped her head. This girl was a shy one, though by what she just did she could have fooled me.
I held out my hand for her to shake. “I’m Griffin. Griffin Chandler.”
Pushing her laundry bag up on her shoulder, she took my hand. She was very smooth. Her skin that is. “Roxie Peterson.”
I nodded. Taking back my hand, I pushed them both into my pockets. “So you work at the Heath Center’s chat line?”
She shook her head, her long hair flowing. “Not really. I participate in an
intermural on Thursday nights. Our group volunteered to do the help line. A one time thing.”
She played sports? I wondered which one and why I hadn’t seen her before. My team practiced nearly every night in the largest of the four gyms. I should have passed her at least once. I wanted to inquire about what she played, but she was already moving away from me.
I caught up to her in only two strides to the maybe six she took. She was struggling with the not one, but two bags on her shoulder. One looked to be a laptop bag, the other a laundry bag. I thought to help her.
“Hey, let me get that for you,” I said, reaching for the computer bag first. “What building are you headed to? I can walk you.”
She raised her hands. “No. It’s fine—”
“Don’t be silly. You shouldn’t be walking around this late by yourself. You saw those guys.” I managed to get the computer bag off her shoulder, but when I grabbed for the laundry she backed away.
“Really, Griffin. You don’t have to. You’ve got your own laundry,” she said, motioning to my abandoned white hamper I tossed before the fight.
I nearly forgotten about that, but I wanted to help her. My stuff could wait. “It’s no big deal.”
I got her other bag, and I had to pause, not because it was heavy, but because of the wave of scent that hit the chilled night air when I did. The smell I recognized instantly, and my awareness drifted off at the pull of it. That smell was the reason I was rushing back down to the laundry room so quickly, trying to get there before I ran out of time.
I must have been in daze because suddenly the bag was off my shoulder and back on Roxie’s arm. She took her computer bag then stepped back away from me.
“Goodnight, Griffin,” she said simply before turning around.
I went to move after her, but I had a strong feeling my efforts would only end in defeat. At five foot nothing, Roxie Peterson had some fight. That was one thing I knew for sure.
Exposed (Free Falling) Page 31
