Chapter 14
January 2007
Zach
“Morris! Get off your ass. I’m tired of watching you mope around all the time. You are coming out with me. It’s fucking Friday night. You’ve been here for a week and have yet to leave this damn room if it isn’t for a meeting with Coach,” my roommate, Tucker Lewis, harasses me. I groan and roll away from him on my bed to face the wall laden with posters of half-naked chicks on various vehicles.
“Fuck off, Tuck. I ain’t goin’ to a fuckin’ frat party. All that sweat, bravado, and sausage just ain’t my scene,” I lob back at him. I know this is college, but damn, there is a party literally every day. Not that I’ve ever been huge into the party life, but especially lately, my mood is shit.
That’ll happen when you’re forced to move across the country at a moment’s notice and can’t tell the girl you love that it’s happening.
She’s going to think I abandoned her. That she isn’t important to me. That I’m a liar like all the other men in her life. Goddamnit.
Three more weeks. She’s out in three weeks. But my parents couldn’t be bothered to wait any longer. Now, here I am in Alabama. Attending a prestigious college with a promising football career ahead of me, and I couldn’t care less about any of it. I just want my girl. Fuck, I am a sad sack. Maybe I do need to get out of this room and out of my head for a while.
Rolling to my back, I flick a look at my roommate hovering in front of the mirror on his dresser. It’s too short for his 6’4 frame, so he has to duck to see himself as he runs gel through the tips of his short, frosted hair.
We lock eyes in the reflection, and a slow, sinister smile takes over his mouth. “Hells yeah, dude. Let’s fucking go!”
His lip curls up slightly, his nose flaring as if he smelled a dead animal or something. “Uh, bro, maybe run through a shower first. You’re becoming one with the bed. I’m trying to get laid tonight, and I don’t want your stank ass running off the ladies.”
I roll my eyes and sit up. Lifting my arm over my head, I take a whiff of my underarm, and I’ll be damned if he ain’t right. I huff out a breath and go to my dresser, pulling out a plain white tee, my ripped black jeans, a pair of boxers, and socks. With an arm full of my clothes, I grab my toiletry kit in the other and head off to our shared shower.
As we pull up, the music pumps through the walls, seeping into the air surrounding the frat house. Tuck parks his two-seater along the curb of what is dubbed “fraternity row”, and we exit the car.
Walking up the paved walkway to the front of the house, red plastic cups and bits of trash litter the front yard. Fucking animals. I hate frat boys.
I shrug off my piss-poor attitude and slide into the good ol’ southern charmer I’m expected to be.
As we approach the front door, it swings inward, and a smoking hot brunette stumbles out, her heel catching on the door frame. I reach out and catch her before she eats shit. She giggles and looks up at me like I hung the damn moon. Cartoon hearts in her eyes and all.
I chuckle, “You alright, darlin’?” She groans and closes her eyes. When she reopens them, they peruse my body slowly. I move to stand her up straight, her body unsteady due to the copious amount of alcohol if the stench of Eau de Vodka has anything to do with it.
Holding my hands at her shoulders to steady her, I lean down to eye level. Her glassy sea-foam eyes stare back at me with uneven blinks. I take the moment to look over her attire. Confused as to why she’s wearing a tee shirt that seems to be four sizes too big that hangs down to her knees, leaving only her bare legs on display. She looks like she played dress-up in her daddy’s closet before the party.
“Top-smop,” she slurs out with a cackle and a snort, her small hand slapping my chest at what she must think was the funniest joke ever. “I mean top-SWAP,” she corrects herself while still leaving me confused as hell.
Tuck huffs a laugh beside me. His elbow taps my rib, and he tips his chin towards the house, “That’s the theme tonight, newb, top-swap. The girls pick guys’ names out of a jar, and they swap tops… and usually bodily fluids.” He throws his head back, howling laughter.
I throw a lop-sided smile down at the drunk co-ed, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She lowers her lashes, staring up at me with sex written all over her face, “Kierra.” She answers in a slurred whisper.
“Well, Kierra, do you have a safe way home tonight?” I ask, ever the gentleman. She nods softly at me while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Kierra!” A shout behind us interrupts the conversation. We all turn and see a black car with two girls in the front and one hanging out of the window in the back seat, hollering her name.
“That your ride darlin’?”
“Mhm, unless…” She leaves the answer open-ended, the invitation clear in her voice. She doesn’t need to, not for me. She won’t get what she’s looking for here. But I’m not a complete asshole, so I let her down easy.
“Maybe another time, sweetness. You better get goin’ now. Have a good night, Kierra.” I whisper in her ear as I walk past her, throwing her a wink and start into the throng of bodies. Tuck catches up to me and hits my stomach with the back of his hand, “What the fuck, man? That chick was eye-fucking you hardcore. You coulda had that.” He huffs.
Looking back at him, I shake my head, “Ain’t happenin’ Tuck. First, she was drunk as fuck, and I ain’t that guy. Second, I don’t want ‘that’.”
I pause in the middle of the foyer to take in the scene around me. Looks pretty much like every college party movie I’ve ever seen, minus the room with dog semen-filled doughnuts. Wall-to-wall bodies. Guys in bras, halters, some even in dresses. A couple of the dudes are just rocking their bare chests. Chicks wearing jerseys, tees, button-downs, and a few topless. Now the half-naked guys make more sense. Can’t swap a top if there’s no top to be had.
Tuck bumps into me from behind, propelling me towards a room behind the large stairwell. As we pass the kitchen, he grabs two beers from the red and white cooler. I crack the top and take a swig. I tilt the bottle towards the back door. I need some air already. We step out onto the back patio.
Glancing up at the sky, a pang of disappointment floods my chest when I can’t spot that pot-shaped constellation. The distance feels greater and greater every day.
“Yo, Lewis!” Someone shouts at my roommate from across the yard. There’s a group of people gathered around a small bonfire. Most sit in white plastic chairs. Some are mulling around in small groups chatting, and a few girls are sitting on some of the guys’ laps.
Tuck nods in their direction, and I follow him over. The group expands outward to absorb us. We smoothly assimilate into the collective. Tuck immediately engages in conversation with a few dudes I recognize from the team. He may be one of the best defensive linemen I’ve ever played with, but the dude is a jabber mouth. Most big boys tend to be strong silent types, in my experience, but not Tuck. The man is a goddamn social butterfly.
Finding an empty chair, I plop down in it, stretching my long legs towards the fire. I tip my beer back, taking a large pull. Flames dance across the night, embers flowing towards the sky, their light extinguished early in their journey. The longer I stare at the flames, the more they come to life: a phoenix gliding through the walls of fire, gathering strength to take flight, the guarded snarl of a wolf melting away to a rigid skull bathed in the glowing inferno.
“What’s up? Haven’t seen you around here before. You new?”
I glance over at the girl to my right. If her thin, skin-tight black tank top is anything to go by, she must not be participating in the top swap. Bringing my bottle to my lips, I take a slow sip as I slide my gaze down to her black pants, which may as well be painted on. I chuckle at the tattered hot pink Chucks on her feet.
Can’t a man enjoy a fucking beer at a party without someone trying to get all up on his dick?
I meet her eyes. They’re alright if you like the endless ocean type. Her curly, dark strands fall loosely over her heart-shaped face, stopping at her shoulders. I can tell she’s tan and fit, even in the firelight. In another life, I’d be all over it. Probably would’ve already dragged her to the side of the house and slid my fingers inside her pussy, while covering her mouth with my hand to keep her from screaming her pleasure for the whole party to hear.
Hell, in another life, I would’ve already had the brunette from the front and this chick taking turns choking on my cock in a shadowy corner of the house.
But these days, my dick only gets hard for the blonde sasshole with honey eyes that owns my heart and soul. My Little Bit.
“Not interested.” I bite out, a little harsher than I intended, as I keep my focus on the fire.
“Okay, pretty boy. First of all, no one fucking asked. Second, you aren’t my type, so why don’t you lock up that blimp-sized ego and chill the fuck out.” She rebuts with a scoff.
I glance over at her. She’s crossed her arms to sit firmly on her chest. Don’t know if she’s trying to thrust them out and call further attention to them, but that’s what she’s doing. I snort a laugh and shoot her my most cocky smile, “I’m every girl’s type, darlin’. What’s wrong,” I gesture to the frat house behind us, “not douchey enough for ya?”
She tips her head back and barks out a loud laugh. Okay, it wasn’t that funny. What’s this chick’s problem?
After a good twenty seconds or so of her laughing in my face, she looks back at me and swipes a tear away from her full cheek. “Oh honey–” she starts and pats my hand condescendingly, “ – I’m afraid you have too much equipment for me.” She aims a pointed glare at my crotch, “I like my partners to have a little less cock and balls and a little more tits and clit.”
Oh.
I narrow my eyes at her in suspicion, “For real?” I ask .
She raises her eyebrows and nods at me like the fucking idiot I am, “Yeah, big boy. Sorry to disappoint.” She rolls her eyes and takes a drink of her own beer.
Well, shit. I’m a dick. I shrug my shoulders and shake my head. A defeated smile plays on my lips. I hold my hand out for her, “Zach.” She looks over at my outstretched hand, debate warring on her face before she clasps her hand in mine. “Morgan.”
“How long you been goin’ here?” I ask.
Morgan tilts her head side to side as if calculating the time. “I’m a sophomore, but I took a gap year before starting, so I’m a little older than most folks in my class. You?”
“Nice. I also took a bit of a gap, but I’m startin’ my freshman year. I ain’t as far behind as I shoulda been since I took a few courses in high school, but here I am, nevertheless.”
My fingers nervously peel at the label on the neck of my beer bottle. The din of conversation around us increases in volume like someone is turning the knob slowly up. The tension in my neck forces me to roll it side to side, desperate for relief. I could really use a joint and a blow job. Neither of which I can fucking have.
“Whoa, wound up pretty tight, ain’t cha?” Morgan jests at my obvious discomfort with a pointed look towards the destruction my fingers are wreaking on the label.
My first instinct is to tell her to pound sand and leave me the fuck alone. But ain’t that why I came tonight? To get out of the room and out of my head for a night. I could use a new friend. Not that Tuck ain’t good, but he’s a lot to handle all at once. It would be nice to have some options. It might be nice to have a woman around to chill with that I don’t have to worry about getting weird or making shit something that it ain’t.
I relax my hand, resting the bottle on my thigh and flicking what’s left of the label towards the flames. Turning to Morgan, I force a smile to my face and lean my beer bottle towards her. “I’m workin’ on it, Morgs.” She laughs at her new nickname and clinks her bottle with mine in cheers. “Well, okay then, Pretty Boy. Let me go grab us another round. ”
“Morris, you good?” A tipsy Tucker wraps his arm around my shoulder, squeezing me in a little too tightly to his side. Man, this fucker doesn’t know his own strength sometimes. I shove his big body to the side, moving him very little, “Yeah, man, I’m alright. I’m gonna have another beer or two and then head out. You gonna be ready to go, or do I need to make it back on my own?” I ask.
His eyes are locked onto a dancing group of girls across the yard, not paying me no mind at all. I nudge his rib with my elbow to get his attention back, “Tuck! Did you hear me?” Eyes never leaving the writhing bodies, he nods his head, in answer to which question I have no fucking idea. I roll my eyes and shove him with more force. He stumbles away, laughing. Guess I’m on my own.
I lean back in the chair, hoping the cheap plastic holds up against my weight, and stare at the dotted clouds lining the pitch-black sky.
Hands thread through my hair and scratch along my scalp. My head jerks forward, and I swing around to see a petite girl dressed in a men’s ribbed A-shirt, clearly no bra and possibly no panties. If she is wearing panties, it’s a G-string or flesh-colored. The sharp lines of her platinum blonde bob complement the softness of her jawline.
She’s probably one of the most attractive chicks I’ve seen on campus. Full plump lips, lined in blood-red lipstick. Smokey tones cover her eyelids. A sweet floral smell that isn’t overpowering wafts off her warm, silky skin. And it does fucking nothing for me. Nothing but cause me irritation.
Before I can tell her to get her damn claws off me, a voice from beside her barks out, “Back the fuck off, Hooker Barbie. I see you touch my man again, and I’ll rip that dusty ass wig right off your head and shove it up your ass. You got me?”
Blondie stares at me in horror. Half expecting me to stand up for her and half expecting me to let Morgan follow through on her threat. I just shrug at her and turn my attention back to Morgan. She looks down at me with a wink and slides onto my lap, “Here’s your beer, baby,” she purrs just loud enough for Blondie to hear. Apparently, she takes the hint as she stomps her foot and huffs before storming away.
Morgan laughs loudly before shoving off of me. She sits back in her chair and tips her bottle to clink with mine. “You’re welcome.”
I laugh, fit to split at her performance. Clinking my bottle with hers again, I offer her an earnest, heartfelt grin. “I think we’re gonna be good friends, Morgs.”