Sixteen
Sixteen
Before heading to the arena, I stop by the frat house to take a quick shower.
I put on a pair of black leggings, my Converse, and Thomas’s black sweatshirt with Go Beavers on it.
I could have worn my own, but stealing his sweatshirts has become a habit now, and I refuse to stop.
Besides, he likes it. I scrape my hair into a high pony and head out.
“I’m sorry, what do you mean you aren’t coming to the game?” I chat on the phone with Alex as I walk down the path that leads to campus. As I do, I rummage through my bag, searching for some snacks to munch on, but apparently I haven’t stocked up lately.
“Well, my parents are going out to dinner tonight, and Stella’s going to be FaceTiming me soon. So I expect to be busy for a while.”
Oh, hold on a minute—is he saying what I think he’s saying? “Are you telling me you’re leaving me alone in that insane crowd to have FaceTime sex?”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“God, Alex, this is high treason, you know that, right?”
Once I get inside the student union, I bask in the warmth of the common area. It’s November now, and the temperature change from outside to inside is marked.
“Hey, I know I’m bucking our tradition, but I promise to make it up to you with the best pistachio ice cream you’ve ever had,” he says, and I picture him giving me an angelic smile.
When I reach the first floor of the student union, I immediately head for the vending machines.
I greet a passing girl from my English lit class with a smile.
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. In fact, tell her hi from me.
Wait. I mean…not while…oh, you know what I mean!
” I can hear Alex laughing on the other end.
A beep tells me that a message from Tiffany has come in. I pull the phone away from ear for a moment and read the notification: Where are you? The game is about to start! Oh, no!
“Listen, Alex, I gotta let you go. I begged Tiffany to come with me to the game, and she’s waiting for me,” I tell him hastily.
“Cool. Keep me updated on the outcome. Actually, only do that if we win.”
“Will do. Have fun, you crazy kids…” I say suggestively.
“Count on it,” he answers mischievously before hanging up. I put my coins into the machine, punch in the code, and naturally the money-gobbler leaves me high and dry. I pound the glass again and again.
“Admit it, you hate me! Just give me my Reese’s, damn it!
” Impatient, I give the machine a hateful glare before running to the cafeteria.
I grab a bottle of water, a bag of pretzels, and a bag of chips from near the register.
I pay, throw everything in my bag, and run like the wind down the long walkways, slaloming off other students on their way to the coliseum when…
“Vanessa!”
I cannot believe it. Again. I’m really making a habit of running into him like this.
“Logan…” I manage, turning to look behind me.
“Are you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” he says, adjusting a tuft of his gelled hair as he approaches me.
“No. I mean, yes. I’m fine. I just wasn’t expecting to see you there. And I’m in a bit of a rush.” I clutch my bag against my side.
“Are you going to the game?” he asks, looking at the building behind me.
I nod. “Yeah, it’s starting in a minute.”
“Oh, I won’t take up too much of your time, then. Really, I just wanted to say thank you.”
“What for?” I ask, wrinkling my forehead.
He gives me a gobsmacked look, like he expected me to already know. “For agreeing to tutor me.”
I stare at him wordlessly as I feel a wave of panic wash over me. “What?”
“Do you remember when we ran into each other yesterday in front of the dean’s office?”
I nod.
“I was actually there to talk about my grades. Philosophy was tanking my GPA, but they gave me the option of having remedial lessons with a tutor. I couldn’t help but think of you.”
I just keep staring wide-eyed at him, unable to say a word. The person I’m tutoring is Logan? That can’t be right. “B-but…why…why did you bring up my name?” is all I ask him.
He gives a casual shrug, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, because you’re the best in the class. I would have been stupid not to pick you.”
“If I knew you were the person who was behind it, I wouldn’t have agreed to do it,” I confess brusquely. I feel as though I’ve been ambushed here.
He gives me a strange look. “Wait, are you mad? What’s wrong, Vanessa? Why are you reacting like this?”
“Do you even have to ask?” I take a step back, annoyed.
“Is it because of what happened between Thomas and me?” he guesses, his mouth twisting as he lowers his voice.
“I’ve already told you that I’m sorry about that, okay?
I never wanted the situation to degenerate that way.
I’ll apologize to him too if necessary. But we’re not just talking about you and me here.
We’re talking about my education. This is exclusively about studying, nothing more. He’ll understand.”
I laugh nervously and shake my head. “No, he won’t. And you know what? I don’t even want to put him in a position where he needs to understand.”
Logan crosses his arms over his chest and lifts his chin in irritation.
“So this is how it works between the two of you? He has final say over what you can and cannot do with your life? Wow, that doesn’t sound like a toxic relationship at all,” he taunts me, getting angry.
Then he hangs his head and presses two fingers to the center of his forehead, blowing out a puff of air.
“I don’t get you.” He looks me in the eye, as serious as I’ve ever seen him.
“You said yes. That means it was a good opportunity for you. You’ll get an extracurricular for your résumé, which you presumably need.
And I need to get my average up. Giving up something that you need and even want to do just because your boyfriend is too jealous to let you do it is stupid.
Thomas should not be an impediment to your plans. ”
The only impediment here is Logan, who is well and truly the problem right now. Any other guy would have been fine. Sure, I would have had to deal with Thomas’s jealousy, but in the end, I could have talked him into accepting it. But he won’t with Logan. He won’t even try.
I run my hands through my hair. I close my eyes and try to calm myself with a deep breath. When I open them again, Logan is looking at me with an irritated frown on his face.
“It’s not about him,” I say. “My choices aren’t dependent upon Thomas; it’s just that—”
“You know what, Vanessa?” he interrupts me bitterly.
“I can find another tutor and still catch up. The only one losing something here is you.” Before he leaves, he gives me a long glare, full of resentment.
And when I find myself alone, staring at a potted succulent on a windowsill a few feet away, I feel almost guilty for the way I treated him.
I attacked him unfairly, and though I hate to admit it, Logan isn’t completely wrong.
I would be the one losing out. This is the last year I am free to figure out what I want to do with my future, which path to take.
Padding my résumé for potential grad schools is an attractive idea.
Why must my life be this constant struggle between right and wrong?
***
The roar is deafening as I walk into the arena.
The entire crowd is in a frenzy. Immediately, I spot Vince clowning around in the front row with a couple of freshmen and that obnoxious Blake.
I try to find Tiffany but am forced to throw in the towel.
I text her instead : If you’re in the gym, send up a smoke signal. I can’t find you.
Her answer comes a few seconds later: Third row, center. I head for the third row, scanning the various faces until I catch a glimpse of a girl with copper hair waving in my direction. I grin at her.
“Hey, I’m here!” I plop down next to her and kiss her powder-scented cheek.
“Where were you?” she asks, pushing some of her locks off her face.
“I was hungry, so I stopped at the café in the student union to refuel.” I pull the chips out of my bag and hand them to her.
I’d also like to tell her about Logan, maybe ask her for advice, but I don’t think now is the right time.
I just want to enjoy the game and not think about it all for a little while at least.
“Where’s Alex?” Tiff asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Forget about him; he’s not joining us today. He’s busy with Stella,” I answer, putting my bag between my feet.
The arena’s loudspeakers announce the guys’ entrance to the court, accompanied by the wild cheers of the audience.
Players from both teams, the Beavers and the Stanford Cardinals, stand at opposite ends of the court.
Their coaches follow them, ready for the traditional pep talk.
My eyes immediately find Thomas. Because how could I do anything else?
He stands out among the rest. The well-defined muscles, the body covered in tattoos, the tousled hair that falls over his forehead, and the confidence that shows in his every movement.
He’s wearing his black-and-orange uniform with his number (12) and his last name printed on it as he turns his attention to the coach, who is talking animatedly to the team.
Thinking back on the last time I was in this arena, a shiver moves down my spine. If, just two months ago, someone told me that I would be here today not to watch Travis play but to watch Thomas, I certainly wouldn’t have believed them. Yet I couldn’t ask for anything more.
When the coach walks away, Matt whispers something to Thomas, clapping him on the shoulder.
He laughs and nods before rubbing his forehead with his wrist, the one wrapped in his brother’s bandanna.
He takes a glance around the audience around him.
When he spots me, he gives me a wink, quirking the corner of his mouth.
I respond with a radiant smile and a pounding heart.