by Lily Cahill
“Megan, it’s bad enough I’m ruining your Saturday. Just take the pizza.”
I shove the bills in my pocket and take the slice from him, sitting back down on my own table. My legs swing from the high table and accidentally grazed against Reggie’s uninjured leg. It sends an irrational jolt through my stomach.
“Sorry,” I mumble awkwardly, crossing my legs underneath me so that I won’t accidentally end up playing any more footsie with Reggie.
“So anatomy, huh? What, are you studying to be a doctor or something?”
“Or something. I want to be a physical therapist. Specializing in sports injury.”
Reggie nods his head. “That makes sense.”
I take another bite of pizza. The jalapeños are fresh, not that jarred crap, and the spice is getting to me. I can feel a little sheen of sweat beading on my forehead.
“So I’m your guinea pig?”
“A sprain is nothing. You’ll be back on your feet in—” Hea-auuup. I snap my mouth closed as I feel the bubble rising inside me, but it’s too late—I hiccup loudly. I swear, it echoes in the huge room. “No time,” I finish lamely, pretending nothing happened.
“What was that?” Reggie says, already laughing.
“It was just ….” I feel another hiccup coming and close my mouth. A more subtle little hiccup rocks from my stomach to my chest. “A hiccup. Spicy food gives me hiccups sometimes.”
His smile folds creases around his mouth. Despite his huge frame and ripped arms, he looks almost boyish as he sits there laughing at me.
“Why do you eat spicy food if it gives you hiccups?”
“It’s good. I’m not afraid of a few hiccups.” I hiccup right over the word, which sends Reggie back into a fit of laughter.
He throws a half drunk bottle of blue Gatorade at me. I catch it and gulp it down gratefully, not stopping until I absolutely have to take a breath of air again. I feel the hiccups receding and stay quiet, breathing out all the air in my lungs once more and starving the hiccup monster.
“Thanks,” I say when I feel I’m safe again.
My muscles relax a little bit and I unfurl my legs, letting them swing from the exam table as we eat. I’m stuffed after two slices, but Reggie polishes off five no problem. He leaves the last slice, although by the way he keeps glancing back at it, I think he still has room.
He stretches and lays back on the table. As I set an ice pack on his ankle he says, “Tell me your life story.”
I roll my eyes, but he nudges me with his good foot. “I’m serious. We’re going to be here for a while. Start at the beginning. Don’t forget to include all your most embarrassing moments.”
“Okay, I grew up here in Colorado, farther north in a small town, and then I came to MSU. This year I graduate and hopefully get to stay on and go to graduate school here too. The end. Now you.”
“That was a crap life story. And there weren’t any embarrassing moments. What town, what was it like?”
I sigh loudly, but there’s no way I’m going to get any real studying done with Reggie right there next to me. “I’m from a small town called Berthoud. Really, you don’t want to know. Actually, there’s nothing to know. One of the biggest events of the year was the outdoor quilt show. Trust me, it’s not interesting.”
“Humor me, I’m injured.” Reggie sticks out his bottom lip and pouts, his golden amber eyes giving me a perfected puppy dog look.
“I’ve never seen eyes that color,” I say. It just comes out, but I’ve been staring at those eyes all season, and I want to know where they come from.
“My mom is Polish,” Reggie says. “My dad’s black, obviously. But when they mixed together I got the dark skin and the light eyes. My brothers are all the opposite.”
“You have brothers? Me too, how many?”
Reggie’s shoulders relax and he smiles. “I have three older brothers. Aren’t you supposed to be telling me your life story, not the other way around?”
“Fine,” I concede and settle my back into the hard wall behind me. “I have one older brother and one younger brother.”
“Middle child. Makes sense.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing, go on.”
“Like I said, there’s not a whole lot to do in Berthoud, so we used to go into the mountains a lot and climb on stuff that we probably shouldn’t be climbing on. I was the only girl, so I always felt like I had to keep up, or go further, just to prove I could, you know?”
“Right, middle child, got it.”
“Whatever. Anyway, when I was twelve I broke my arm. It hurt like a bitch, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how cool it was that bones can break, then grow back together. I wanted to get better as soon as possible so I could go and break some more.” I shake my head. “It’s still amazing to me all the incredible things our bodies can do. So I loved that part, too. It made the mountains even more alluring.”
I stop, realizing I’m gushing, but Reggie is smiling, apparently not put off by my geek-out.
“You forgot the embarrassing moment.”
“Ugh, fine. When I went to my homecoming dance, my dress somehow got tucked into my underwear, and my date, who I had a huge crush on, told me with a look that said, ‘I’m mortified to be seen with you’ and then we proceeded to not dance and just stood next to the wall for the rest of the night.”
Reggie gasps out a loud laugh. “You just made that up.”
“I did not!”
“Prove it. Show me a picture.”
“Why would I have a picture of that?”
“Because you knew one day, you’d be wasting time with a guy who desperately wants to see that picture.” Reggie’s smile is breaking across his face again. It’s amazing how it completely reforms his features. It’s like a sunrise, bringing everything it touches in the light.
I grimace. “Can we please move on? It’s your turn.”
“Okay. I grew up in Texas. I have three older brothers. My parents split when I was a kid and my mom raised us. She’s the most hardworking person I know. And she kept all four of us clothed and fed. And I’m the smallest of my brothers, so you know that is a huge feat. It took her three jobs to do it, so she wasn’t around much. My brothers and I horsed around and played ball to keep out of trouble. I’m the only one who got to play on the college level, but we still get on the field for a pickup game any time I’m home. Don’t tell Coach, they freak out about that kind of stuff. You know, don’t want you to get injured out of season. Anyway, that’s what we do. We work and play football. Except for me. I just get to play football.” There’s that goofy grin again.
I can’t help but smile, picturing Reggie and his three giant brothers playing football together. “That’s sweet. They’re all still in Texas?”
“Yep, they all live in the same trailer park. Which sounds worse than it is. It’s kind of nice that they’re all five minutes apart.”
I shake my head. I love my family, but I don’t have any intention of ever living in Berthoud again.
“Are you going to move back there after you graduate?”
“Probably, I haven’t thought much about it. My brother works at a Grease Monkey and he said he could get me a job, so if nothing else turns up, I might do that.”
I’ve spent so much time planning my future, Reggie’s nonchalance is jolting.
“I can’t imagine you doing oil changes day in and day out.” Reggie has so much more life to him, he needs to be somewhere he can play or at least be outside.
He shrugs. “Who knows? It doesn’t have to be forever.”
I feel uncomfortable all of the sudden, and then I remember he still owes me one more fact about himself.
“And your embarrassing moment?”
“Pff.” Reggie’s chest puffs up when he lets out the noise. “Do I look like a guy that gets embarrassed to you?”
“Ugh, no fair. I told you mine,” I squeal.
“And I will remember it always.” He closes hi
s eyes like he’s creating the picture in his mind. I kick his table, jostling him.
“Watch it, I’m injured.” He pouts again, that lower lip sticking out and taunting me. I shake my head because clearly, there’s no way I’m winning this game.
“I think it’s dark enough now.” Reggie nods his head toward the window. It’s full dark now. We probably could have left ages ago, but I hadn’t even noticed the time.
“Right, of course.” I start gathering the Uno cards we’d been entertaining ourselves with and shove them back into the box so haphazardly that I pop open the underside and have to fumble with it even longer.
Finally, I stand up and look around the room feeling disoriented, like I’ve just woken up from a long nap.
“So, crutches or wheelchair?”
Reggie grimaces and eyes the two options. “Wheelchair, I guess. I feel like I’ll be less noticeable if I’m not swinging around.”
“Agreed.” I hold out my hand and help Reggie down from the table. He holds on tightly, leaning on me as little as he can manage as he hops around to get into the chair.
I sling my backpack over my shoulders, wrap up the last slice of pizza, and hand it to him.
He waves his hand. “Nah, you keep it. I’ll imagine you getting hiccups in the most inappropriate situations.” His mouth curls up at the side, a devilish half grin. That look and the words “inappropriate situations” sends a flush of heat to my face.
I look away from Reggie, fumbling my keys out of my backpack so I can lock up the office. But I can feel his gaze on me. What does he see? He’s been flirtatious, but for a guy like Reggie, that’s par for the course. It’s like a reflex. Just as my reflex is to pretend it isn’t happening.
I’m concentrating so hard on ignoring him that I lose my grip on my keys. They skitter under Reggie’s wheelchair. He pushes back carefully and then retrieves them for me, frowning as he lifts the ring. “What’s this?”
I see him gesturing to the bright pink tube attached to my keys. “Mace. My dad makes me carry it.”
“For real?” he asks, examining it closer. “I didn’t know they made girly mace.”
“It’s not girly.” If I sound defensive, it’s because I’m still mad that my dad bought me pink mace. “It’ll burn your eyes just as well as any other mace.”
“I’d rather not find out,” he says, gingerly handing the key ring back to me. “Why do you need that?”
I give him a withering look. “Why do you think?”
I can literally see the realization dawning on his face. “Because of what happened last year? The sex scandal?”
“The rape scandal,” I correct as I get behind him to push the chair. I’d worked for the football team since my sophomore year. I thought I’d known those guys. But I hadn’t known anything, not really. It made me so angry to think of what they’d done, what they’d almost gotten away with. Angry … and a little scared. If they could have been so awful, what about all the other men out there that seem nice? I shake away the thoughts as Reggie looks back at me, frowning.
“But … that was a different thing. That girl was passed out. She couldn’t defend herself.”
“Yeah, and I intend to never be in that position.” The florescent lights of the hallway cast our shadows in different directions. “I barely drink, and I almost never go to parties. I took self-defense classes over the summer.”
He twists in the chair to look at me. “Are you actually afraid something like that would happen to you?”
I scoff. “Did you know that one in five women will be sexually assaulted in their lifetimes?”
“Yeah, but … the guys who raped that girl—”
“Her name was Natalie.”
Reggie seems flustered. “Yeah, right. Natalie. But those guys are all gone now. They got kicked out of school, they’re in jail.”
“See, that’s funny,” I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m pretty sure rape hasn’t gone away just because four guys were prosecuted. And yeah, there’s more awareness now, but that doesn’t mean the threat is gone.”
Reggie’s face is serious for once. “Are you really afraid?”
I’m tempted to spew more facts at him, but something about his worried eyes makes me give him the simple truth. “Sometimes, yeah.”
He nods, then turns back around to face forward. I might be wrong, but I thought I saw shame flash over his face before he turned away.
The night air is cool and feels refreshing after being inside the med room for so long. Slowly, I push him across campus, neither of us talking. When we’re a few feet away from Taylor Hall, the athlete dorm, he stops me.
“Go make sure there’s no one around.”
“Reggie,” I say, exasperation in my voice.
He twists his head back toward me, his dreadlocks falling away from his face so I can see all of him. His amber eyes shine in the moonlight, his skin is smooth and velvet dark without any streetlights to illuminate him.
“Please. If I’m not a football player, I’m no one.” His voice is soft and his eyes are pleading.
How can I say no to that? I jog toward the building and wait as a couple strolls through the front door with their fingers intertwined. I bolt through the door before it closes behind them and call the elevator, then leave my backpack in the way of the door so we can make a fast escape upstairs. The front foyer of the dorm is quiet and dim—no one to discover Reggie in the wheelchair. I dash back outside where he’s waiting near the side of the dorm.
“All right, the coast is clear.” For some reason, I’m whispering. I push the chair quickly, jogging up to the building by the single access ramp. Reggie reaches up to swipe his key card, and the latch of the door clicks. We glide through the foyer and onto the elevator without encountering anyone.
“Nice,” Reggie says, pushing the number three to his floor.
I snort. “I feel like I’m in the world’s lamest spy movie.”
Reggie directs me to his room, and I get us inside the dorm room without incident. His dorm is cluttered and just as small as mine—though his lofted bed does make it a bit roomier. Funny, I thought the athlete dorms would be way nicer than the rooms for us normal people.
I stop staring at Reggie’s space and wheel him toward the futon under the loft. He lifts himself from his chair, and I brace against him, letting him lean on me. He’s at least six inches taller than me, so he’s huddled low, with his arm around my shoulder. I’m thankful for being a tall girl, any shorter and he’d crush me. We hobble awkwardly to the edge of the futon so he can sit back down. But in the last few steps, he stumbles. I try to brace him, fail, and tumble with him down onto the futon. He manages to twist so that I fall on top of him, but still, it knocks the breath from me.
I push my hands down into the futon, making space between our bodies, trying to figure out how to get untangled. The room is dark, only dim light filtering in from the streetlights outside the dorm window, and the plush cushions of the futon are too soft to give me any leverage. I’d laugh at the awkward scene we must make if I wasn’t too horrified at the way my body is tangled up with Reggie’s. As I squirm, I hear Reggie gasp in the dark.
“Did I hurt you?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he says, his voice tight. And then I realize—I’m straddling him, my hips pressed into his, and I can feel something hot and hard pressing against me.
I should scramble up, should get out of here immediately. But my body is too curious, and it’s dark enough to hide the flush of sudden arousal in my cheeks. Dark enough to pretend none of this is really happening.
Experimentally, I shift my hips against him. Reggie gasps again, but there’s no pain in the sound. His hands are on my waist now, holding me in place, and the electricity buzzing over my skin short-circuits my brain. I can’t seem to get a full breath, can’t seem to pull away. It’s too dark to see Reggie’s face, but I can sense him—almost see his golden eyes watching me. I can feel his breath against my lips,
the tension of his body under my hands. Without letting myself think, I sway forward and find his mouth with mine.
He inhales sharply, and I start to pull back, embarrassed. But then his hand travels up my spine, settling at the back of my neck to keep my mouth on his. I fall into him, letting the kiss take me over. My inexperience jitters through me, but I can’t think about it when Reggie is distracting me so thoroughly.
His tongue licks against my lips softly, and my mouth parts, allowing him to deepen the kiss. His fingers weave into my hair, pulling me closer and closer. His hand glides down my side and flares out with the curve of my hip. Some warning bell dings in my mind, but I don’t heed it, can’t heed it, not when my body feels this good.
He shifts his weight under me, and suddenly, I’m lying on him fully. My hands land on his chest, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world to let them run down his torso, feeling the ridges of muscle that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. His mouth finds mine again, but there’s something different about his kiss—something hotter, more desperate. His hands are running freely over my back and hips, learning the subtle curves of my body. He hitches me up, just a little, so my center sits more firmly against his hard cock.
I gasp, the warning bells sounding louder, but I still can’t stop. I’ve never felt like this before; I’ve been studying the human body for years, but I never knew I could feel like this. Reggie angles his head so he can kiss down along my jaw, those plush lips sending soft tingles through my body at every spot they touch. His mouth is beneath the opened collar of my polo now, teasing magic out of my collarbone, and his warm hands are on my skin, lightly massaging my lower back. It feels good—so good—better than I ever imagined.
My eyes pop open. What am I doing? Why am I making out with Reggie Davis? I didn’t plan on making out with Reggie Davis. Me, who plans everything. In fact, this was the exact opposite of what I meant to do. Uneasiness fights its way from my stomach to my brain, and finally I place a hand on Reggie’s impossibly hard chest.
“I have to go.”
