7 - Fallon
~ 7 ~
FALLON
The days following my encounter with Blaine were a complete blur of mixed emotions. I endured my classes rather than enjoyed them, and flew haphazardly through my work. I stormed across campus with the single-minded goal of getting from point A to point B, where I used to like to stop, sit on a bench, and admire the beauty of things.
Ordinary.
I felt angry and infuriated — ashamed of my own stupidity. But I also felt free. There were times when the clouds of rage temporarily parted, and I could see a future without this pompous, pretentious asshole who’d dominated my life for so long. And in those moments of clarity, I saw opportunity and hope.
Boring.
In moments like those, I realized I still had a year left on campus. A year to reflect, to enjoy, to dive into all the crazy college experiences I missed out on. Two whole semesters to indulge in the parties and gatherings and social events Blaine had always laughed off as stupid and infantile, making the decision for me when it came to ignoring these things.
Sexually vanilla.
His last comment had hit the hardest, and I resented him for it most of all. It infuriated me because the comment was bullshit and he knew it was bullshit but he’d dropped it anyway. Blaine had taken the one thing I’d always been — sexually open to just about anything — and shut it down almost immediately after we got together. Year by year, our sex life had gotten less inventive, less ambitious, and less of just about everything.
And now I was pissed .
I stewed on these things as I rushed around town, checking out apartments I couldn’t afford. I put in for extra hours at the animal hospital, where I’d been interning for the past two semesters. I tried immersing myself in my studies, but I couldn’t focus on anything but the rage I felt at having been so betrayed. I was moody, angry, hungry and tired. Not to mention unexpectedly and unfathomably horny… especially with Emerson showing up naked every morning. His shower schedule was always somehow conspicuously aligned with mine, no matter what time I decided to use the bathroom.
The weekend came, and for the first time in years I went to the football game. I dragged myself into the bleachers, bringing my laptop just in case I wanted to do some work. Instead, I got caught up in the moment. I left the machine tucked securely behind my legs, utterly forgotten as I allowed myself to be immersed in the raw energy of the cheering, shrieking crowd.
Dalton came out waving the maroon and white Buffaloes flag, leading Emerson, Trey, and the rest of his team onto the bright green turf of the stadium’s field. The whole place exploded, the crowd going instantly ballistic. I found myself on my feet the whole time, clapping and cheering them on. When the score was tied in the fourth quarter, I was gripped by anxiety. When they won on a forty-yard field goal with three seconds left, I screamed alongside everyone else, until my throat was raw and sore.
I watched, beaming, as Dalton ripped off his helmet and thrust it victoriously into the clear blue sky. After cheering and celebrating with the crowd for another five minutes, the rest of the team practically carried the quarterback off the field.
The whole thing was amazing, inspiring, exhilarating to see. It made me forget my worries entirely, to the point where I had to double back and pick up my forgotten laptop. I couldn’t believe the hero Dalton had been, and yet, fighting my way back through a sea of euphoric fans, I also could. He’d been like this since the day I first met him. He’d always been the captain, the superstar, the conqueror of our campus.
And I’d been the girl who friend-zoned him after our spectacular, one-night stand.
I was still reeling with happiness when it hit me, and I knew exactly what I wanted to do. It wasn’t a new idea, it was something that I’d always wanted, maybe even forever, whether I could force myself to admit it or not.
That night, the team party at the Chi Omega house went on until the wee hours of the morning. Emerson would be there celebrating, of course. Trey would be there too, eating the poor sorority out of house and home.
But Dalton, I knew, would be coming home early. As both quarterback and captain, he’d made it a rule not to indulge in anything that crazy for more than an hour or two. Especially this early in the season.
And so there I was at ten o’clock, waiting for him in the living room as he came through the front door. I was sitting on the couch, my legs tucked beneath me, halfway through a bottle of wine. I could tell by his expression he was pleasantly surprised to see me. Maybe even more surprised though, as I thrust an equally-full glass of merlot into his hand.
“Drink with me.”
Dalton shrugged, tilted his head back, and let the red liquid slide past his lips. I was watching him differently now, than all the other times before. All the other times that is, except one.
“I need a favor,” I told him, leading him back to the couch.
His expression was starkly curious as he sank down beside me. The quarterback’s blue eyes glimmered like jewels in the unfinished room’s dim light.
“A favor?” he asked. “What kind of favor?”
“A sexual favor.”
I tucked my thighs back beneath me, causing the cotton fabric to ride up my legs. The shorts I was wearing were my shortest ones, and intentionally so.
“A sexual favor,” Dalton repeated, tilting his head. He looked more perplexed now than ever. “Is this because you’re single and looking to be set up? Maybe with someone on the team, or—”
“Someone on the team, yes,” I answered slowly. “But set up? No.”
The few creases on Dalton’s brow merged even closer together. I couldn’t believe he still didn’t get it.
“Dalton, I want to have a threesome,” I blurted out, letting the wine in my brain take the wheel.
“With you.”