by Sara Ney
“That. Sounded. Terrifying.” He shivers. “Well, the weird thing is— it was actually a total fluke that anyone saw my name in your Tweets because Cal Thompson isn’t even the name I use on any social media online. I haven't used that since high school.”
“It isn’t? Don’t leave me in suspense. What’s your real tag?”
He laughs. “Tighthead Thompson. Tighthead is a rugby thing.”
That explains the gashes, scratches, and bruises.
“Ah. Rugby, huh? We don’t have that on our campus.”
“I’m sure there’s an intramural league here somewhere. Most schools offer at least that. It’s typically only played competitively at smaller schools, and some Ivy League schools.”
“How long have you been playing?” I ask, feeling at ease with him and sincerely wanting to know more.
“Three years by accident.” Cal stops on the sidewalk when we’re standing across the street from my rental but makes no move to cross the street. “I played football for years and just got sick of it. I had a scholarship to a D1 school, but…” His sentence trails off with a shrug. “I just didn’t want that kind of pressure.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What did your parents say about you giving up a scholarship?”
“They’re supportive; they want me to be happy.”
“Wow, they sound great.”
“The best,” he agrees with a small grin, nodding towards my shoddy little house. “Okay, so… I guess this is you, then.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, and we step down into the street to cross.
“I guess. And again, I’m so sorry. It was such a stupid, careless thing to do.”
“Yes, but…” he concedes. “No harm done.”
“Except the part where you came all this way to kick my ass,” I point out gamely.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Except the part where I drove all this way to kick your ass.” He gives me an expression full of longing, clearing his throat once his gaze hits my breasts and lingers there. He blushes and looks away. “I’m actually really disappointed I didn’t get the chance.”
“Well, thank you, then—for not whooping my butt. I’m sure I deserved it.” I run a hand over my long blonde braid, and Cal’s bright, fascinated eyes follow the motion, sending tingles up my spine. I want to do it again just to see his reaction. “And thank you for not being a total jerk.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I was really pissed.”
“I’ll bet…” I tap my chin, and his gaze hits my mouth. “But on the bright side, it was only an hour drive, and you gave your friends something to talk about, probably for years. Ugh. Years.”
“A few years at least. But just look at how happy they are.” Our friends are still gathered on the porch, watching us walk back into the yard, chatting happily yet eyeing Cal and me with avid curiosity.
“They’re like little puppy dogs.”
I giggle. “I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going to say when they finally get you alone.”
Cal laughs. “Your ears will be ringing, that’s for sure.”
“For years,” I remind him.
“Okay, you little sneak. Who. Was. That?” My roommate Melody ambushes me as soon as the screen door closes and the guys pull away in Cal’s big red pickup truck. I give him a jaunty little wave from behind the screen before stepping into Melody’s eager web of inquisition.
“That was… Well, Mel. That was Cal Thompson.”
“That was Cal Thompson? Seriously! Where the hell have you been hiding him?” She pauses, the truth setting in. “Wait. I’m confused. If that was your boyfriend, why was he acting like he didn’t know who you were?”
“Because… he… Ugh. God, Mel, I’m an idiot. That’s why.” How do I explain this without sounding like a mental person?
“Grey. Just tell me the truth.” Melody puts her hand on my shoulder. “I won’t judge you, promise.”
So I do.
I tell her everything.
Cal
As soon as the truck door slams shut, Aaron is half out of his seat, punching me in the arm. “Holy shit, Thompson, your stalker is fucking hot. Did you get her number?”
My hands white knuckle the steering wheel. “No.” But I wanted to. God, how I wanted to.
Aaron looks at me like I’ve lost my goddamn mind. “Why the hell not?”
“Uh, because she’s a fucking stalker,” Mason responds.
“So?”
They’re still bickering when I enter the off-ramp for the highway, and they’re bickering forty minutes later when we pull up to our off-campus housing.
“Her roommate was smokin’ hot too, and funny as shit. They’re in a sorority, man. Sexy as hell.”
Yeah, it is.
Aaron considers this information. “Way out of your league, bro.”
“Don’t kick a man when he’s down,” Mason chastises as we climb out of my truck.
@Grey_VKeller @tightheadthompson remember what I said about live tweeting during our meetings? It’s happening. Right. Now.
@tightheadthompson @grey_vkeller So is this a pity tweet for the sake of your charade? #ouch #feelings
@Grey_VKeller @tightheadthompson Shhhhhh. No talking about the charade in public! #partnersincrime
@tightheadthompson @grey_vkeller people can read, you know #notsubtle #publicforum
@Grey_VKeller @tightheadthompson valid point
@tightheadthompson @grey_vkeller I’m usually always right, but I’ll let this one slide because you’re #cute
@Grey_VKeller @tightheadthompson are you flirting with me, Cal Thompson? #causethatwouldbeawesome
@JemmaGemini @tightheadthompson whoever you are, could you STOP Tweeting @grey_vkeller? We’re trying to be PRODUCTIVE #distraction #meeting #focus
@Grey_VKeller @tightheadthompson I’m getting scolded #momsaysicantplay
@tightheadthompson @grey_vkeller speaking of charades, maybe I should just get your personal info—just to spare you from further public embarrassment #gentleman
@Grey_VKeller @tightheadthompson have your people contact my people @JemmaGemini #giveMasonmyinfo
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Circling back
Greyson. Hey. Just wanted to make sure you’re not beating yourself up over the whole lying, stalking thing. Because I’m over it and feel much safer knowing I could definitely take you out in a fight. I don’t know why your friend would only give Mason your email address and not your cell phone number. - Cal
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Can’t even say how sorry I am…
Calvin,
Your concern fills me with warm fuzzies. I’m taking it day-by-day, each day getting easier and easier to look myself in the mirror. That was sarcasm, by the way. I’m guessing the reason Jemma wouldn’t give your roommate my cell is because you look ten kinds of crazy. You’re big and scary, black eye and tattoos. Thank you for the email, though, and for not holding a grudge against my stupidity. I guess this means I owe you a favor.
Grey
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Don’t worry about it.
Greyson, no one has ever called me big and scary. Or ten kinds of crazy—at least not to my face. What does that even mean? And yeah, you owe me. Hell yeah you do. And don’t call me Calvin. - Cal
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: I’m stressed out and not thinking clearly?
Calvin,
Sorry for the delay. Speaking of ten kinds of crazy, things are REALLY crazy here. Only a few more weeks until our Gala, and I’m really trying to hold it together. We have one hundred and five tickets sold! I can hardly believe it. Confession: although it’s a fundraiser, I kind of hope we don’t sell any more! That’s a ton of people! I want to go to the event and have SOM
E fun. Anyway, don’t let me get started on all that… Tell me, what does a guy like you do in his free time? Grey
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: What is this free time you speak of?
Grey, a guy like me? First of all, every time I see your name in this email, I still cannot believe you’re a girl. LOL. My roommates haven’t shut up about it, and I think Mason has a crush on your roomie. He can’t stop talking about how smart and funny she is.
What do I do in my “free time”? My free time is probably spent a lot like yours: homework, studying, hanging with the guys. We like parties. And, as you know, we play Rugby. I’ve been Captain since last year, as a sophomore. What about you? What does Greyson “not a guy” Keller do in her free time? – Cal
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: LAE (long-ass email)
Calvin (sorry, I can’t seem to help myself),
Wow, Captain?! Impressive. I don’t know much about Rugby except that the players are big, and they get black eyes and banged up a lot. And they drive big trucks. Other than that, I’m pretty clueless. In my “free time”—if you can call it that—I spend a lot of time with my sorority sisters. Home is a 5-hour drive away, so I stay on campus most of the time and don’t go home often. My sorority sisters are my family. I like to read and dabble in writing (tweets haha). I don’t mind hitting the bar scene every once in a while, but… guys are pretty grabby, and I can’t stand that. Grey
PS: I also want to add that other than inventing the occasional fake boyfriend, I’m usually always very honest.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Fake boyfriends are underrated
Grey, speaking of being very honest, I can honestly say I’m never intentionally been grabby with a woman. Although I don’t mind a consensual handful of ass cheek. Was that TOO honest for you? Just testing the waters. - Cal
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: No date is better than a blind date
Cal,
Is there such a thing as too honest? I’ll ponder that… As far as ass grabbing goes, I guess I wouldn’t mind it if the grabber was my date. Or my fake date. And since we’re being honest, the only person who knows you don’t exist—I mean, who knows you aren’t really my boyfriend—is my roommate Melody. I do feel terrible lying, but we can’t sit and talk about guys during our committee meetings. We get nothing done when we do. It drives my friends nuts that I’m single, and I do not want to be set up. Blind dates are the worst. Wouldn’t you agree? Grey
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Use me up then spit me out.
So, what you’re saying is, you still plan on using me so your friends don’t try and set you up on a blind date? And yeah, I agree that those are the worst, although I’ve never been on one. Speaking of dating: I think it’s rude you haven’t asked my permission to use me. – Cal
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Request document submitted
Calvin, do I have your permission to use you as my fake boyfriend? Grey
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Request document received
Greyson, to answer that, I should probably have your cell phone number. – Cal
697-555-5155: Grey, this is Cal. Thought it would be easier to text rather than email. What was your question again?
Grey: Calvin, took you long enough to ask for my phone number.
Cal: For the sake of convenience, it had to be done.
Grey: That’s the story you’re sticking with?
Cal: Yup, pretty much.
Grey: I guess I’ll jump right to the negotiations then. Calvin, do I have your permission to use you as my fake boyfriend?
Cal: Let me think about it. This all seems so sudden… are you sure we’re not rushing into things?
Grey: You’re wittier than you look, Cal Thompson
Cal: THANKS! Shit. That felt like an insult. Or was it a compliment? Dammit.
Grey: LOL
Cal: LOL? Fucking rude is what you are. You’re lucky you’re an hour away.
Grey: Or you’d WHAT? Come kick my ass or something?
Cal: Or something.
Grey: So, do I have your permission?
Cal: Yes. But when I start feeling dirty and violated, I’m breaking up with you. Also, please don’t tell anyone I “put out” on the first date.
Grey: I never kiss and tell…
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Gray skies and stormy weather.
Grey. This shitty, gray overcast day reminded me of you—but not in a bad way. How’s it going over there at State? Had a rugby match this weekend, and I’ve been icing some seriously sore muscles for the past few days. It sucks. Can hardly move. I also have a cracked lip and another black eye—one that matches the shiner you saw last week. But it looks badass, so who am I to complain? I never did ask what your major is. Mine is business. Yawn. Boring, right? My dad owns a commercial construction company, and after working in the field a few years, I plan to take over when he retires. - Cal
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Grey the Procrastinator
Calvin,
Yes, I’m sticking with that moniker. For some reason, it pleases me knowing that you don’t like it… Business is also my major, except I’m not sure which direction I want to take it. Unlike most of my friends, I don’t really know what to do with a business degree. Choosing a major was one of the toughest decisions I’ve ever had to make. I actually waited to declare until I absolutely had to. I have passion for a lot of things. Like event planning and team building. Is that weird? Grey
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: The Family Business
Greyson, is that weird? Not at all. Isn’t diversity a good thing? My dad always says that having diverse interests gives you a leg up in business, so you’re already one step ahead of the game. My mom works in the accounts payable department of his office, and my sister is his Field Manager. She never wanted to work for the family but got roped into it two years ago when Dad had a stroke. Sis is Tabitha, and she’s pretty fucking cool. A ballbuster, but cool. Do you have any siblings, or are you a lonely only? – Calvin
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Farm Fresh California Milk
Calvin,
Did you think I wouldn’t notice you signed that email as Calvin? Cute, cute, cute. Now you’re stuck with it Do I have any siblings? Yes, I have an older brother (Collin, 29) and a younger sister (Reagan, 18). Reagan is a freshman at State with me this year and sometimes stalks me on campus for a free coffee. I work at the Starbucks on campus part-part-time. Don’t even ask why they keep me employed, since I’m hardly available to work. Must be my sparkling wit and personality? So, did you at least score any TRYS during your game? Grey
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: A few more cuts and bruises…
Grey. Holy shit, did you actually google rugby jargon and use TRY in a sentence? Wow, Grey, I have gotta say, I’m actually impressed. And to answer your question—of course I scored a try. They’re worth 5 points, and that’s where the busted lip came from. Those boys from Ohio are brutes. Changing the subject for a second. So what you’re saying is YOUR SISTER STALKS YOU????? At the risk of sounding—oh, I don’t know—unsympathetic, can I please point out the fact that perhaps this stalking problem RUNS IN YOUR FAMIL
Y???? – Calvin
Grey: I’m sorry, but I can’t stop laughing. You can’t say funny crap like that during the day. I just choked back a laugh in this class I’m in right now, and the guy in front of me gave me a dirty look.
Cal: Fuck that guy AND his dirty look. They can both kiss my ass.
Grey: He’s trembling at your harsh text.
Cal: He would be if I were in that classroom with you.
Grey: True. I mean, you with your busted lip and your black eyes and scary glaring. Ten kinds of crazy, remember?
Cal: I am pretty scary.
Grey: You don’t scare ME.
Cal: That’s because you have a touch of the crazy inside you, too.
Grey: LOL I DO NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Grey: HE’S LOOKING AT ME AGAIN. And he is not happy.
Cal: Are you wearing a skirt? Maybe he’s just trying to see your underwear? In which case, this fake boyfriend WILL come beat his ass.
