The Freshman

by Monica Murphy

  “Never said you didn’t.” I start walking again, heading for the parking lot, and she falls into step beside me. I’m having a déjà vu moment right about now, but I decide to switch it up a little from our last parking lot encounter. “Want to grab dinner with me?”

  “Are you asking me out on a date?” Her voice is ultra-high and I catch her batting her eyelashes at me, over-exaggerating everything. Mocking me, though I’m not insulted.

  I feel like the mocking thing might be her defense mechanism.

  “No. I’m asking if you want to grab dinner as friends. That’s it,” I say solemnly.

  “I would be delighted.” She rests her hand on her chest.

  “Want me to drive us there?”

  “How about we take separate cars? Like friends do,” she suggests. “I can follow you.”

  “Sure,” I say easily, not about to argue.

  “How was practice?” she asks as we make our way toward the parking lot.

  “Tough. They’re working us extra hard lately. I think we’re being tested. They want to see if we’ll stick.” The season is winding down, and it’s been a good one. I haven’t gotten much field time—most of my friends haven’t, with the exception of Diego—and this is when they put us to the test. See if we have what it takes for them to want to keep us next year.

  It’s also a great way to get rid of the slackers who can’t hack it. I see the way the coaches watch me and Jackson. We both didn’t take things seriously at the beginning of the year, and we’re paying for it now.

  I may have been distracted a couple of months ago with moving out, a new school, a new life, but I’m focused now. I want this. I’ve got nothing else. This bachelor’s degree I’m pursuing is nothing but a piece of paper that’ll make my dad proud. Once I graduate, he’ll pull me into the family business and my life will no longer be my own. I need to have something that brings me joy. Something that’s for me and no one else.

  Football is it for me. My one outlet that no one can take away from me. It helps me forget about my troubles and focus on the game. I need that. More than I realized.

  “When’s your next game?” she asks.

  “This Saturday. It’s a home game,” I answer.

  “I’m going,” she says firmly. “I want to watch you play.”

  “Good luck, I don’t get on the field much.” There’s no point in lying.

  “Why not?”

  “First, I’m only a freshman, as you like to remind me.”

  She grins.

  “Second, I kind of fucked around at the beginning of the season with Jackson, and now the coaches hate us,” I explain.

  “What do you mean, you fucked around with Jackson?” Her brows shoot up. “Sounds dirty.”

  “Ha, right. No, nothing like that.” I stop at the front of my car. I almost passed right by it. “How about I explain everything over dinner.”

  “Okay.” She nods, her expression neutral. “But I’m paying for my own meal.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “And I’m sitting across the table from you, not right next to you.” She waves her finger between us. “This is not a date.”

  “We’ve already established that,” I say coolly.

  She rolls her eyes. “Are you always this calm?”

  “Not in bed.” I grin.

  “Who says we need a bed?”

  Touché, Hayden.

  Motherfuckin’ touché.

  Ten

  Hayden

  We end up at a sushi place not too far from campus, and it’s packed with fellow college students. I’ve been here before, and while it’s not the best sushi I’ve ever had, it’s worth the price and the crowd.

  We pick out a couple of rolls to share. I order an iced tea, Tony sticks with water. I watch him as he speaks with the server, noting how his hair is damp, as if he just took a shower, but his cheeks and jaw are faintly lined with stubble. I withhold the sigh that wants to escape the longer that I stare at him. He’s hot.

  So hot.

  His gray T-shirt stretches across his wide chest, tight enough to offer me a teasing outline of his pecs. I bet he has a six pack. I’ve been with attractive guys before, but there is something exceptional about Tony.

  “You’re staring,” he tells me once the server leaves our table.

  “Sorry.” I prop my elbow on the edge of the table and rest my chin on my fist. “You’re pretty.”

  “Pretty?” He doesn’t appear happy with my assessment.

  “Yes. I’m not changing my choice of words, no matter how much you don’t like it,” I tell him with a faint smile.

  He smiles in return. “You’re pretty too. I like the Bulldog gear.”

  “I wore it just for you.”

  “I also like how you don’t hold back. You tell me how you feel.”

  “I don’t like to play games,” I say with a one shoulder shrug.

  “Me either.”

  “Plus, friends should be honest with each other.”

  “A friend who lies to you isn’t a friend at all,” he agrees.

  “Right? That’s why I say what I feel.”

  “Okay. My turn.” He rests his forearms on the table, leaning forward, his voice lowering. “I think you’re fucking sexy.”

  My stomach flutters. “Are you attracted to older women?”

  He rolls his eyes. “It’s only two years. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Says the eighteen-year-old.” I grin. It’s fun to tease him. He gets this little line between his eyebrows when he’s irritated, and it’s there right now, front and center.

  “Does it bother you that badly? Because if it does, maybe we can’t be friends.” His arms drop off the table and he leans back against the booth behind him, his expression devoid of emotion.

  I wonder if anyone’s told him how attractive he is when he’s mad.

  “It bothers me a little.” Again, I’m being honest. It’s the least I can do. “But I’ll get over it.”

  “Really?”

  “I’ll try.”

  The server returns to our table with our drinks and a bowl of spicy edamame for us to snack on.

  “Do you have many friends who are girls, Sorrento?” I ask once the server’s gone.

  He slowly shakes his head. “My friends’ girlfriends, but that’s about it. I had friends who were girls when I was in high school.”

  “A few months ago?” I need to quit prodding him about the age thing, but it’s like I can’t help it.

  “Yeah. A few months ago, since I’m merely a baby in your eyes.” He quietly owns it, which I respect. “But I haven’t met a lot of girls since starting here.”

  I nearly scoff. “I find that hard to believe.”

  “Girls I’d want to be friends with,” he adds. “You’re the first.”

  Jealousy spikes. Of course, he’s met girls. Pretty girls who probably throw themselves at him. Girls who chase after jocks, who want the status of being with someone on the football team. They’re all over campus. I was never one of them. Yet here I am, interested in this one.

  “Maybe I want to be your only friend who’s a girl,” I admit. “I can get jealous sometimes.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me to have lots of female friends?” He raises a brow.

  “It would probably bother me, yes,” I say with a nod.

  “That’s not a very friend-like thing to do.”

  “Sometimes…I have not-so-friendly thoughts about you.” Another honest confession. Look at me go.

  “Like you want to murder me in your sleep?”

  “Like I want you naked in my bed,” I say.

  He tenses up. I watch it happen. Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing?

  The server returns to check on us, and I immediately wish he’d leave. He starts talking with Tony like he knows him, and they keep up a three-minute conversation while I’m over here squirming in my seat, absently snacking on edamame.

  I just told Tony I basically want t
o have sex with him, and I’m dying to know his response.

  The server finally leaves, but Tony says nothing. He takes another drink. Leans back in his seat, practically sprawling in that way a confident man does.

  Yes, I called the eighteen-year-old a man, because he is quiet and patient and has this ease about him that is both incredibly attractive and absolutely annoying. He doesn’t act like any guy I’ve ever met before, and he’s frustrating me.

  “Did you hear what I said before we were interrupted?” I finally ask.

  He slowly shakes his head. “Repeat it.”

  Is he playing me right now? “You asked if I wanted to murder you in your sleep.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “And I said I want you naked in my bed.”

  “Again, not a very friendly thing to say, Hayden.”

  “It’s overly friendly,” I stress.

  “Nope.” He shakes his head. “You’ve completely left the friend zone with that statement.”

  I see the amusement dancing in his dark eyes. I sort of want to throttle him.

  “You mentioned friends with benefits.” I pause. He nods. “Is that offer still on the table?”

  Yes, I went there. How can I not? He’s in my thoughts constantly.

  “Are we negotiating a deal right now, in the middle of Wasabi on Fire?” He glances around before returning his gaze to mine. “My dad would be proud.”

  “We can’t negotiate public deals. Our fathers would kill us.”

  “My dad probably has someone tailing my ass right now, and he’ll report back that I was with a certain Hayden Channing.” Tony grins. “I’m sure he’ll call and chew my ass out later.”

  “Your father actually has someone tail you?” I’m shocked.

  “Sometimes.” Tony shrugs, like it’s no big deal. I would be so pissed if my father did that.

  “That’s such an invasion of privacy.”

  “I’m sure your dad has the Find My Phone app.” He inclines his head toward my phone, which is currently sitting on the table. “He’s tailing you constantly.”

  True. How often does he check it though?

  Probably more than I think he does.

  I change the subject and ask him about football, vaguely humiliated that Tony wasn’t readily agreeable when I mentioned the friends with benefits scenario. I wasn’t lying earlier when I told him I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was on my mind for the rest of the night. I dreamed about him. Uncomfortable dreams where he rejected me and I chased after him. I felt bad about my reaction to his age, yet here I am, reacting about it all over again. It’s dumb.

  I’m being kind of dumb.

  Maybe I’m handling this all wrong. I’ve always been aggressive when it comes to guys. When I see something I want, I usually go after it. But I’ve been burned a couple of times. Maybe I should switch tactics and try something different.

  Should I be quiet and let him make his move on me? I’m sure he’s got some moves. He said so himself. And I should definitely not judge him for whatever moves the youngster might have.

  Yeah, I am a horrible human, even in my thoughts.

  Finally, our sushi rolls arrive and we start eating. I’m suddenly ravenous, devouring the sushi like a woman who’s been held in captivity with no food for the last week. He watches me with amusement, and I want to ask him what’s so funny, but I wisely keep my mouth shut.

  That, and my mouth is constantly full of sushi, so I can’t really speak anyway.

  “You were hungry,” he says when I finally set my chopsticks on the edge of my plate, my stomach full.

  “Starving.”

  “Me too.” He points at the empty plates that held our rolls.

  “It was better than I remember.”

  “You’ve been here before?”

  I nod. “Lots of times. I come with friends. Been on a few dates here.”

  “This isn’t a date, though. According to you.”

  “It’s not.” I tilt my head, contemplating what I should say next. Immediately deciding I’m going to keep up with the theme and not hold back. “Are we just going to go round and round for the rest of the night? It’s silly, don’t you think?”

  “You’re the one who’s silly.”

  “Don’t put this on me,” I say, mildly offended. “You’re the one who didn’t answer when I asked if the friends with benefits deal was still on the table.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “Well, good.”

  He laughs. Shakes his head. “What the fuck, Hayden? You’re kind of a trip.”

  “I’m not normally like this,” I reassure him, though I might be telling a teeny lie. “I think you bring it out of me.”

  “What else could I possibly bring out of you?” he asks with a grin.

  “We should test it and see.” My smile is coy.

  Within minutes, we’re leaving the restaurant, walking toward our matching Range Rovers that are parked right next to each other. I regret not taking his offer to drive me, but then again, I didn’t want to leave my car in the campus parking lot either.

  “Want to come back to my place?” he asks.

  “Just to hang out?” I ask him, not wanting him to think I’m going back to his place for sex.

  Not yet, anyway. Ha.

  He shrugs. “Sure.”

  “How many roommates do you have?”

  “Two, but one of them is never there.”

  “You share a room with either of them?”

  “It’s a three-bedroom condo, not too far from campus,” he explains. “I have my own room.”

  Nice. All the guys I hooked up with my freshman year either lived in dorms or shared a room in a tiny apartment filled with six other douchebags. The guys I dated back then were the absolute worst. Young and horny and not interested in any type of conversation. They were only after one thing. At first, that’s all I wanted too.

  But now…I’m second guessing all of my earlier decisions in life. With men. Boys. I don’t know what I want anymore.

  That’s not true. I know what I want currently.

  Tony.

  “Any of them home right now?” I ask.

  “They probably are. Couple of our friends are probably there too. They sit around and play Call of Duty all night.”

  Typical. I’m sure he plays Call of Duty as well.

  “I’ll follow you to your place. I can’t stay long though. I have an early class tomorrow,” I say.

  We stop in front of our parked SUVs. “What time is your class?” he asks.

  “Eight.” I make a face.

  “That sucks,” he says easily. “But don’t worry. I won’t take up too much of your time.”

  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

  I follow him back to an apartment complex that isn’t too far from mine. As in, we live literally down the road from each other.

  Of course we do.

  He waits for me as I park, and then leads the way to his condo. It’s a newer complex, filled with two-story condominiums that cater to college students, and there’s a giant gym in the center of the complex that’s full of people. Most of them women clad in sports bras and leggings on the various machines.

  “You work out there?” I ask him as we walk past it.

  “Sometimes. I get a good enough workout with football practice most of the time. We do a lot of strength conditioning,” he explains.

  I am dying to see his abs. Does this make me a shallow person?

  Probably.

  When we’re finally at his place, he opens the unlocked door for me, and the first thing I see is a stairwell. Once I’m in the living room, I see it’s filled with guys. Like, a lot of guys. The TV is on, but there’s no sound. Music is playing, and it’s really loud.

  “Tony! Where the fuck you been?” yells the blond. Jackson. He approaches us, his gaze going to me, his expression sobering right up. “Oh shit. It’s the sexy blonde.”

  Clearly, he’s drunk. Or high. Maybe a combi
nation of the two.

  “You guys remember Hayden, right?” Tony asks as he stops to stand right next to me. “Be nice.”

  “You telling that to us or to her?” The one who winked at me says that.

  “Shut the fuck up, Caleb,” Tony says good-naturedly.

  “Hey guys.” I wave at them, glancing around the living room. They have a giant dark gray sectional couch that everyone is sprawled on, and the place is relatively clean. Impressive, considering there are at least six guys crowded around this room.

  “What are you doing?” Tony asks Jackson.

  “Call of Duty tournament,” he says with a shrug. “We’re bored.”

  “Sorry I’m missing it.” He glances over at me. “Want to see my room?”

  “Sure.”

  I follow him up the stairs, appreciating his ass in those black joggers. He’s long and lean but muscular too. I bet he’ll fill out even more over the next couple of years, especially if he sticks with football. He smells good too. Clean with a hint of salt, like the ocean.

  “Ladies first,” he says when he stops in front of the third door on the left and opens it, holding out his hand and inviting me in.

  I enter the bedroom, relief hitting me that it doesn’t look like a pit from hell. It’s clean. It smells normal. There aren’t any discarded empty soda cans or water bottles cluttering his bedside table. His bed is actually made. It’s neat and orderly and there aren’t any personal items anywhere. No photos, no trophies, no art on the walls. It’s downright barren, which kind of makes me sad.

  Then I notice the dark gray lump sitting just behind his pillows. I take a step toward the bed, and the animal lifts its head, contemplating me with wide golden eyes. “You have a cat.”

  “That’s Millicent,” he says.

  I send him a look. “Millicent?”

  He shrugs. “She was my mom’s cat first, so she named her. Then when my mom was never around, she adopted me.”

  “Millicent adopted you?” I go to the bed, reaching my hand toward the cat. She gives my fingers a delicate sniff, deems me acceptable and then rubs her head against my knuckles. I scratch her chin, and she begins to purr.

  “She had to make nice with the only person in the house who’d feed her on a regular schedule, right? I’d wake up in the middle of the night to her sleeping on top of my head. Kind of sucked at first, but we grew on each other.” He smiles faintly. “I couldn’t leave her in that big house all alone when I moved down here. My mom would take off and probably forget all about her. She would’ve died.”