9 - Trey
~ 9 ~
TREY
“Holy shit, Trey! What the hell happened in here?”
Dalton dropped his equipment bag square in the middle of the foyer, yelling the words over AC/DC, which was blaring loudly. Work lights hung everywhere, illuminating every corner of the room. My friend spun in a slow circle, taking it all in. His jaw was practically scraping the floor.
“What do you think happened?” I beamed back at him. “Work got done!”
His mouth still wouldn’t close, that’s how totally in shock he was. I flipped off the bluetooth speaker, right in the middle of Angus Young’s guitar solo, and pulled him over. I couldn’t wait to show him.
“Trey!”
“I know, right!?” I screamed along with him. I felt a sense of pride. A sense of accomplishment. A sense of—
“Who DID this?”
“Freshmen,” I said, crunching down on a mouthful of what used to be his Sun Chips. “You know, the rookies.”
“The rookies?”
“We told them it was mandatory, and right after practice they piled into the truck,” I shrugged. “I have to admit, it was Emerson’s idea. Brilliant, huh?”
“Brilliant…” Dalton repeated numbly.
“We started passing out hammers, and nails, and spackle knives, and they got right to work. It was amazing; how fast they all moved. Look at how much they got done! We should’ve done this weeks ago.”
“But they’re savages!” Dalton swore loudly. “Look around. They created more work than they accomplished!”
I paused curiously, with my hand deep in the chips bag. Dalton tore it away from me.
“Trey, look at that wall. They sheetrocked it.”
“So? Don’t all the walls need to be sheetrocked?”
“Yes, but the walls aren’t insulated yet! The rolls of insulation don’t come until next week.”
I paused, mid-chew. My shoulders slumped.
“Wait, what?”
“You’re spackling without tape, and you’re nailing the boards rather than screwing them in. None of this is right. It all has to come down.”
“Crap. Really?”
“Yes!”
“But we finished the framing in here,” I scratched at my head. “And you said after the framing was done, we sheetrock.”
“That’s true,” Dalton conceded. “But shit dude, the electrician hasn’t even finished the outlets yet. Everything can’t happen all at once. Emerson should know better.”
I sighed helplessly, letting my arms fall to my sides. All my life, I hated disappointing people. But I hated disappointing Dalton most of all.
“Sorry man,” I grumbled. “I guess this is what happens when you let a cattle rancher do construction.”
Dalton’s frown disappeared, and his usual smile took its place. “You’re a football player,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “Your father’s a cattle rancher, remember?”
“And my brothers, my sisters, and even my mother, to some extent,” I smiled back. “But yeah. Thanks for reminding me.”
He clapped me again, this time even harder. He couldn’t budge me, obviously. And he still didn’t give the Sun Chips back.
“It was a good idea though, grabbing the rookies,” he admitted. “Maybe we’ll do it again, when it’s time to paint.”
I nodded and headed upstairs, lamenting the double loss of my afternoon, as well as my snack. I had plenty of other things to do, rather than create more work for the house. Things I’d been putting off for way too long.
Imagine my surprise then, when I walked in on Fallon standing in the middle of my bedroom. She had a large stack of plates and cups balanced in one hand. With the other, she was reading something.
“Well hello there, beautiful.”
I totally surprised her, and Fallon jumped like a frightened baby doe. The plates and cups rattled threateningly, tipping first left, then right. I ran to save them from falling, but it was too late. They landed noisily, scattering over my already messy floor. Luckily they landed on my pile of dirty laundry, not the clean one.
“Trey!” she gasped, clutching her chest. “Trey, I’m so sorry! We’re out of plates downstairs, and Emerson said to check your room, because you usually accumulate all the cups and dishes and—”
“It’s alright,” I smiled, cutting her off with a chuckle. “Really. It’s okay.”
Together we went about picking it all up. I noticed she was doing it one-handed though.
“I totally didn’t mean to—”
“What’s that behind your back?”
Fallon froze, and her face went pale. She looked utterly miserable as she stood up, sank to my bed, and held out her arm.
A single piece of very official-looking paper was clenched between her fingers. Immediately I knew what it was.
“Ah, shit.”
I dropped the dishes back into the laundry pile and sank down beside her. The sheer weight of my body forced hers to slide sideways, until our thighs were touching.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” I said sullenly. “I didn’t want anybody to see that.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It was just out there, right there on your desk. I was picking up those coffee mugs, and, well…”
I set my elbows on my knees and dropped my face in my palms. A moment later, I felt her very small hand on my very large back.
“Trey, this is serious,” she said, gently but firmly. “This is a letter from the athletic department, signed by the dean.”
“I know,” I croaked. “And it’s not the first one.”
A long beat of silence passed between us. The hand on my back began rubbing, gently.
“How many classes are you failing?”
“Only two.”
“This says if you don’t get your grades up, you can’t play football.”
“I know what it says,” I mumbled. “And I’ve been trying, I really have. Coach arranged two different tutors for me, and I meet them in the library. But every time I’m there, and I’m trying to listen to what they’re telling me, I just… I dunno. My brain just tunes them out.”
I heard the rattle of the paper again, she examined it.
“I’ve taken both these classes,” she said. “The statistics one is actually easy, once you get the hang of the truth tables. I could you show a trick I learned.”
I took my hands away, and found myself staring at the place where our legs were touching. Her bare thigh was flawless and beautiful, and very warm against mine.
“This other class is a little tougher, but I still have my notes,” said Fallon. “I could help you, Trey. We could sit down after practice each night and go over some of this stuff.”
I sat up. Her expression was soft and understanding. There was no pity, no condescension. Just a beautiful girl who was genuinely concerned about me, looking to help.
“I’d like that,” I agreed. “Let’s give it a shot.”
She clapped me on the back and smiled. “Can’t hurt, right?”
“Well, I’m sure it’ll hurt my brain a little,” I smiled back. “But I can take it.”
Fallon bounced from my bed, then gathered up the mess again. She’d been doing a lot of things like this around the house, helping to keep it neat and tidy. I felt abruptly guilty for being such a slob of a roommate.
At the same time though, I was seeing her as a woman, too — and a very beautiful one at that. Her long blonde hair danced in shimmering waves, as it bounced down her shapely back. And those hips… the way they flared out just enough. That round little ass. Those smooth, sexy thighs…
As she prepared to leave my room, I found myself looking very forward to the next time Fallon would come by. It was easy to see what Dalton initially saw in her.
“By the way,” she said, pointing with an errant elbow. “I didn’t know you were a cowboy.”
She was referring to the elaborately-stitched pair of roper boots, sitting in one corner. The soft brown leather still shone from the original polish.
“My father gave me those, the day I left his east Texas ranch,” I chuckled. “He thought I’d be proud to wear them around campus, but I always felt more comfortable in cleats and sneakers.”
She stared at them for a long moment, before returning her gaze to mine.
“Well you’re gonna have to put them on for me one day,” she called back, “as a condition of me helping you pass your classes.” She paused in the doorway, to wink back at me over her shoulder. “Cowboys are always sexy.”