Quarterback Werebear

by Candace Ayers

  Chloe and Harper grinned while Mia looked appalled.

  “I thought we were all having a good time!” She protested.

  “Not as good as you and Torres,” Harper teased. “Why didn’t you tell us you were into him?”

  “I’m not.”

  Chloe burst out laughing, “Mia, you are massively into him! He’s cute though, why are you denying it?”

  Mia allowed herself a small smile.

  “Alright, maybe I like him—a little. He’s very funny.”

  “And so can we drop the act that you’re into Todd?” Harper questioned.

  “I wanted Todd and Chloe to get together,” Mia sighed. “I thought you’d be perfect for each other.”

  “You don’t even know him!” Chloe burst out. “All we know about Todd is that he’s a good football player and has awful taste in women. I can’t believe you think we’d have that much in common.”

  “But he’s so handsome,” said Mia, trying to defend herself. “And I know he likes you. Torres told me. He saw the three of us together on campus,” Mia shrugged. “I thought it would help you get over Wesley. Obviously not.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think it was your best plan ever, Mia,” Harper commented with a grimace. “Maybe Chloe should be left alone to decide who she wants to date for herself?”

  Mia looked doubtful. Before she could say anything, Chloe stood up and yawned.

  “Okay, enough guy talk. I’m beat and I have early classes tomorrow.”

  “Goody two-shoes,” Mia grinned. “But fine, enough boy talk. Let’s sleep and tomorrow I can hatch more Machiavellian schemes to get Torres to fall in love with me.”

  “I don’t think you’re going to need to strategize that much, Mia,” Chloe commented wryly. At least one of them was doing well in the romance department. Torres was clearly besotted with their friend.

  When Chloe’s alarm went off the next morning she groaned loudly and rolled over back into her pillow. She hadn’t slept well at all.

  In her sleep she’d swung from dream to nightmare and back again.

  Her dreams had been old ones, from the time she turned fifteen to sixteen—when Wesley had stopped becoming her best, older friend to something else entirely. In her dreams she was back at the ranch, hiding behind the hen house, watching Wesley work bare-chested in the sun. How his muscles rippled and moved, and sweat trickled down his back and drenched his hair so it became slicked back, highlighting piercing blue eyes that constantly squinted across the landscape in the hot sun. She was always drawn to the waistband of his jeans, how it hung low on his hips—exposing a sliver of boxer shorts and a sparsely haired snail’s trail riding downward to a place it had made her blush to just think about.

  She was awkward around him in those years. Aware that she was slowly transforming from girl to woman, with small bumps growing on her chest—and how it stopped feeling okay to wrestle with Wesley or let him drag her around the mud with her shorts and t-shirt riding up. She’d never told her friends how she felt about Wesley, not even Lucille, her best friend throughout childhood. It was a secret she kept to herself, absolutely sure that Wesley, aged eighteen and the most good-looking boy in the world, would never be interested in her.

  Her nightmares kept interrupting the happy memories. She was walking around campus and a big, black hole kept opening up behind her. She had to keep running, but the earth beneath her was cracking and yawning open—she wasn’t fast enough, she knew she wasn’t fast enough. She kept crying out for Wesley—crying for him to save her. All she heard was the roar of a bear, and then the darkness eventually took her.

  Chloe tried to shower off the night’s imaginings, but they left her feeling uneasy and fragile. Last night had been a shock to her whole system. She didn’t think she’d ever see Wesley again. Her uncle, Derek, had told her that Wes had moved to Chicago—but that he’d not heard from him in a while. Then, when she was seventeen, Uncle Derek told her that Wesley had moved. He didn’t know where he was. Chloe had tried her hardest to forget him—thrown herself into her studies, making sure that she maintained her 4.0 gpa. When she wasn’t studying, she was reading, when she wasn’t reading, she was watching action movies or thrillers—anything she could do to keep her mind from wandering to Wesley, and what he might be doing at that very moment.

  Chloe dressed herself quickly, throwing on a pair of old jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie and then a scarf and hat for good measure.

  She reached the coffee shop an hour before her lecture—plenty of time to go through notes and readings that she needed to catch up on.

  Eli was at the counter, and she was pleased to see a friendly face.

  “Hey Eli,” she waved.

  “Chloe! How’s it going?”

  “Good, thanks. How are you?”

  “Annoyed,” he replied with a grin. “I heard you made an appearance at Alpha Delta Kappa last night—and I didn’t see you!”

  “You were there?” Chloe asked.

  Eli nodded, “A bunch of my friends’ are pledged. I’m a regular there—on account of them having far superior gym equipment than at my dorm.”

  Chloe laughed. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you. It would have been nice to see a familiar face.”

  “Maybe next time?”

  “If there is a next time,” Chloe acknowledged. “Not sure hanging out with football players is really my scene.”

  “So, she doesn’t like the limelight…what is your scene?”

  “Anything a bit calmer? I’m not entirely sure—I think I’m still working that out,” she shrugged. “Plus, for me to have a really good time, it helps if there’s food involved.”

  “Amen to that,” nodded Eli. “We’re lucky to be in Ann Arbor. This city’s restaurants are something else.”

  “They are.” Chloe nodded enthusiastically, “My mom is an amazing cook, but I come from Jackson Hole. It’s not exactly cuisine central. Good hot dogs though.”

  “Jackson Hole, Wyoming?” Eli asked.

  Chloe nodded.

  “A country girl, then.”

  “Yeah. My dad owns a ranch. I grew up with cattle and horses.”

  Eli grinned.

  “I’m jealous. I grew up in D.C. Not a whole lot of cattle around there, unless you count the people during rush hour. It sucked.”

  “I guess everywhere has its pro’s and con’s,” Chloe replied evenly. She always found it strange that the people she spoke to on campus always seemed to hate the hometowns they’d come from—certain that the grass was much greener somewhere else. Chloe was the opposite. She loved all of Jackson Valley, and had loved growing up there—but she also understood how privileged she’d been to have a nurturing mom and loving dad who cared for her, and a wide, open expanse that was her own personal playground.

  “Coffee’s on the house, by the way,” Eli smiled, handing her a steaming black coffee.

  “You can’t keep doing that,” hissed Chloe, looking around to see if a manager had seen, but the only staff behind the counter was another student who was busying herself with the espresso machine.

  “I can,” Eli winked.

  “Well, thank you,” Chloe replied cautiously. She took the coffee gladly but hoped this wasn’t going to become a habit. She’d have hated to get Eli in any trouble—and generally didn’t like taking things for free.

  Eli waved her thanks away, and she went to find a seat. She smiled as she sat down. Her short but sweet conversation with Eli had finally shaken off last night, and she was ready to face another day—determined not to think of Wesley.

  Chapter Six

  Wesley leaned back in his chair, stuffed full of food. The sun was starting to set, covering O’Neill’s backyard in a hazy golden glow that reminded him a little of back home.

  “Are you sure I can’t get you any more, honey?” O’Neill’s wife, Sophia asked.

  “No way, it was delicious—but I don’t think I can eat another thing.”

  “You need to beef up, boy,” O’Neill b
arked at him, “Soph, get him another dog—he needs his protein.”

  “No way,” Wesley protested. “Please—I can’t.”

  “I’ll have another one!” Little Mike piped up, who still hadn’t finished his first, but poked it around his plate and drowned it in ketchup.

  “Look what happened to the last one! No, Mikey, not until you’re done with that. Then you can have ice-cream.”

  “Okay, okay,” the boy agreed, scraping the ketchup off his food now that he actually had to eat it. The offer of ice-cream was too good to miss, and they only ever had it on Sunday’s.

  “How are you feeling about the offensive line up?” O’Neill asked.

  “Good. There’s some great talent—especially Jamie,” Wesley replied, referring to the right guard who had joined the team around the same time as Wesley, but had been playing in the pre-season games.

  “He’s good,” nodded O’Neill. “It’s Donovan I’m not that taken with. The kids lazy, needs to be sharper. Not always the quickest on reading the play.”

  “He’s not bad,” Wesley shrugged. “Bit of a mean streak, but he works it when he needs to.”

  “You boys going to talk shop all afternoon?” Sophia enquired sarcastically. “Old man, you need to give Wesley a break. All you do is talk football at him.”

  “He loves it, don’t you Reed?” O’Neill barked. “You only have a problem with it because you don’t understand it –”

  “Because it’s a dumb game,” Sophia groaned theatrically. “No offense Wesley, but football, in my country, is a beautiful game.”

  “You come from New York, woman!”

  Wesley laughed as the two of them argued. Sophia hated American football, she was a soccer fan—and avidly watched European matches, a game that Wesley admired, but much preferred the fury and force of American football to tame his bear.

  “…all I’m saying is, he needs other interests,” Sophia was saying as Wesley turned back into the conversation.

  “A female. That’s what he needs. Something else besides the game,” she said, gesturing at Wesley.

  Wesley was about to protest when O’Neill interrupted.

  “Are you kidding me? Are you insane woman! At the start of the season? That’s the last thing he needs—Reed, you’re not to go near a woman as long as the season last. I want you one-hundred percent in the game. And I know coach feels the same. Last week I heard him hollering at DeWitt because he’s got himself mixed up in some drama with a lady friend before.”

  “A lady friend?!” Wesley gave a bark of laughter.

  “See, old man,” Sophia teased her husband. “You sound silly—a silly old Irish man who doesn’t understand romance. Is that what you call me, your lady friend?”

  “The Irish understand romance better than anyone else on the earth! And I call you my ball and chain, for the record.” He winked at Wesley and then received a smack to the back of his head from his wife.

  “See what I put up with?” She said to Wesley. “Luckily, I’m only with him for his money, so you better play well this season.”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Wesley grinned. “We’ve got the momentum. I’m sure we’ll be able to keep it up.”

  “Ah,” O’Neill waved him away. “It’s you boy! That’s why the Bears are going to the playoffs this season—and now the whole country knows it! Cheers to that!” He held up his beer, and Wesley clinked his glass of soda water against it.

  One of O’Neill’s daughters, Aurora, came running out into the garden.

  “Mom—door!”

  “Who’s here on a Sunday?” O’Neill barked unhappily.

  “No idea,” Sophia sighed. She stood up, wiping her hands on her apron. Little Mike stood up with her and together they made their way into the house.

  “Damn, I hate unexpected visitors on a Sunday,” O’Neill groaned as his wife left. “It will be someone from Sophia’s church—mark my words.”

  O’Neill was a Catholic, but rarely went to church, his wife was the more devout of the two and fully immersed herself in Chicago’s Catholic community—something that O’Neill whined about constantly.

  A few moments later, O’Neill’s prediction turned out to be accurate.

  Sophia crossed the lawn with a friend—a younger friend dressed in a bright, floral summer dress. Wesley figured the woman was in her mid-twenties, and she greeted both Mike and him with a warm smile.

  “This is Ava,” Sophie introduced her friend, winking surreptitiously at Wesley. “This is Wesley Reed, and my husband you know.”

  “Thank you for inviting me over,” Ava replied, taking the proffered seat at the table. Thankfully, she was oblivious to O’Neill’s look of thunder.

  “Hi,” said Wesley, trying to cover for O’Neill’s absence of greeting.

  “Ava works with children,” Sophie announced, in the direction of Wesley. “She is a great help at the church as well—bakes us delicious pastries!”

  Wesley tried to look enthusiastic, but he was starting to smell a set up. O’Neill wasn’t going to be happy with his wife at all.

  “Do you two know each other?” Sophia continued, smiling broadly. “You live quite near each other, I think?”

  “Oh, no,” Ava pushed back her hair, leaning forward across the table. “Where do you live? I’m on Burnside.”

  “I’m on Lakeview, I just moved. Do you like the area?”

  “So much,” Ava smiled. “Have you been to Dino’s? That’s near you. I love the place.”

  “Not yet,” Wesley acknowledged. “But good to know.”

  “Ava, can I get you anything to drink?” Sophia asked.

  “Do you have wine?”

  “I have a bottle of white in the fridge. Let me bring it out.”

  “I’ll help,” O’Neill announced gruffly, rising to his feet before Sophia could protest. Clearly, O’Neill wasn’t going to wait till their guests had left before giving Sophia a piece of his mind.

  Wesley and Ava were left in an awkward silence.

  “So,” Wesley cleared his throat, “what exactly do you do—working with children?”

  “I’m an elementary school teacher. I love kids, I really do—and working with them is the next best thing to having some of my own.”

  Her eyes gleamed, and she ran another manicured hand through her hair.

  “Yeah, kids are great,” Wesley replied, at a loss as to what else to say. The only kids he really knew where Little Mikey and the O’Neill girls, and he enjoyed their company but wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for kids of his own.

  “Do you want kids, some day?” Ava asked.

  “Uh…I’m sure I will…one day.”

  Wesley smiled blandly, wishing that Sophia and O’Neill would return to the table. He still had very limited experience with the opposite sex. He had spent his youth on the ranch, meeting very few girls his own age—usually on Friday nights down at Jakes Place. He had taken a few of them out on dates, but never enjoyed himself enough to want to enter into a more permanent thing. Then, when Chloe grew up, he remained transfixed on her—entirely unable to get her out of his head. There wasn’t a woman alive who even came close to Chloe.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” Ava asked.

  “No. I don’t date during the season,” Wesley replied, relieved that he had such an iron-clad excuse.

  “That’s a real shame. Not a rule breaker, then?” Ava laughed.

  Wesley shook his head, “Not me, no ma’am.”

  “Shame.”

  Wesley shifted in his seat. The conversation had become heavy-handed fast.

  “So, you know Sophia though church?” He asked, trying to steer the conversation back onto more safe ground.

  “I do. We get along really well. It’s nice to get to know people in the neighborhood. Do you have a good social circle here in Chicago?”

  Wesley nodded enthusiastically, thinking of his empty apartment and take-out dinners. “I do, yeah—mostly teammates,” he lied. The team socializ
ed together, sure, but many had families at home and all were on such strict individual diets during the season, and complex training schedules that they hardly ever saw one another except on the field and in training.

  “But I bet you could always use a few more—especially people who live close to you?” She smiled coquettishly, flicking back her hair again.

  Wesley thought he was going to murder O’Neill.

  “That might be nice, after the season,” he hedged, hoping to hell that she would forget all about him by then.

  “Maybe I can persuade you to break the rules a bit,” she insisted.

  Wesley let out a sigh of relief as he saw O’Neill and Sophia emerge from the kitchen door and out onto the patio. Sophia looked a little sheepish, but she approached the table with a beaming smile, applied for Ava’s benefit.

  “Reed, you ready to hit the road?” O’Neill barked.

  Sophia rolled her eyes behind her husband’s back, but had clearly expected Wesley to be whisked away on their return.

  “Sure am,” replied Wesley, trying not to sound too eager.

  Ava looked thoroughly annoyed and frowned at Sophia in confusion.

  “Really nice to meet you,” Wesley said, offering Ava his hand. She shook it, holding on for a few moments longer than necessary.

  “I’m holding you to plans—I’m going to take you to Dino’s,” she insisted.

  Wesley smiled blandly again, hoping she would take the hint.

  “After the season!” O’Neill roared. “Come on kid—back in the car.”

  Sophia hugged Wesley goodbye, whispering in his ear as she did so. “Wesley, honey, I am so sorry, I thought you’d want to meet a nice girl your own age, but I understand football comes first, forgive me.”

  “Nothing to forgive,” Westley whispered back, giving her a final squeeze. He knew that Sophia’s heart was in the right place. Any other man would have been immensely grateful to Sophia. Ava was an attractive woman. But there was only one woman he’d ever want to be close to.

  Football provided a convenient cover for now, but when the season was over he’d have to find a longer-term solution, or forever be set up on dates with Sophia’s church friends—a fate he was absolutely sure he could not handle.