Chapter 15 Ava
“So I heard a wild rumor this afternoon,” Mia said with no hello or anything as she burst into our apartment. I was making dinner and knew by the look on her face that she had heard about my sprint-a-thon across the quad.
“The Loch Ness monster is actually a large eel?”
“Huh?” She paused for a second before her hand tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No . . . amazingly enough.” Her look was sharp. “But it’s almost as mythically impossible as an imaginary sea monster. Did you . . .” Again, she hesitated. “Did you . . . throw your coffee at Jett Santo?”
“I did.”
Mia’s mouth dropped open as she stared at me. I carried on stirring the sauce as she walked over to the couch, sinking down onto it slowly. “Why?”
“He’s an asshole.”
Mia’s eyes widened slightly, but she still looked confused. “You threw your coffee at him because he’s an asshole?”
“Yes.”
“Ava?”
“Mia?” I countered as I put the pasta in the boiling water.
“You can’t throw your coffee at people! Not him!”
“Why? He isn’t God.”
“He may as well be, here.”
“Ugh, no. He’s an ass and a dick and a cock.”
Mia looked at me in wonder before she started to giggle.
“Why are you laughing?” I asked as I stopped stirring the pot to look at her.
“You seem fixated on his anatomy,” she teased. “I can’t believe you threw your coffee. I mean, you’re you . . . you would never waste caffeine.”
“He deserved it. I’m just sorry I ordered a latte and not a filter.”
“He would have been scalded!” Mia admonished me as she stood and made her way into our kitchen. “Lemme taste,” she murmured as she picked up a spoon.
“Good?” I asked her as she dipped the spoon back into the pot.
“Not sure, need another taste.” Her laugh was loud when I snatched the spoon off her.
“Greedy! Supper will be ready in fifteen. You need a shower?” I asked her, returning to stirring my pots.
“Yeah, it’s so hot outside, thank goodness we got the AC fixed.” She headed to her room. “And because I’m not even complaining you’re feeding me carbs again,” she called over her shoulder, “I want all the details over dinner!”
Her comment about carbs actually made me smile briefly because there were no details I wanted to share.
Jett seemed incensed or insulted, I wasn’t sure which, that he slept with me.
Half of what he had said to me made no sense.
The other half seemed like a complete overreaction.
I knew people had regrets over one-night stands.
When the beer goggles came off, the truth could be sobering. Pun completely intended.
That was fine, because I could handle rejection.
I wasn’t fragile. I just didn’t like the guy, any guy, who pushed me against a wall with his hand around my throat.
He did not get to touch me without my permission, and the next time he thought about putting a hand on me, I’d rip it off and shove it up his ass. Dick.
As I stirred my pasta, I thought back to the afternoon.
I had left the classroom and skipped my next class as I hid in the library from prying eyes.
Even in the library, I couldn’t escape the whispers about the girl who’d thrown a drink over Jett Santo.
There was so much speculation, but as I listened and hid, I realized everyone thought that girl was the one who mugged him. How was I to defend that?
When I heard one girl say he could chase her any day, my head lifted from the book I was pretending to study to look at her, partly to welcome her to be in the position I had been earlier and then see if she still wanted to be chased, and partly because he wasn’t that desirable . . . was he?
Then I realized I was being stupid. They thought I had stolen from him; if only they knew the truth.
I’d been wrestling with his touch all afternoon.
Hands that had brought me such pleasure on Friday had been restrained from causing me harm this afternoon.
And I had no doubt that he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat and squeeze.
“Maybe I hurt his ankle,” I blurted in realization.
Had I somehow caused him harm on Friday, which meant I was the reason he was too injured to play?
I had been tender on Saturday, maybe he had too.
Is that what I had taken from him? The ability to play?
More importantly, was I brave enough to ask? I didn’t really have a choice.
“You’re deep in thought,” Mia said from behind me. “How did you hurt his ankle?”
“What?”
“You just said maybe you hurt his ankle?” Mia got drinks out of the fridge and then forks before placing them on the breakfast bar as she watched me.
“Heard a few people say his ankle seemed fine as he was chasing you over the campus.” Mia giggled again as she winked at me in humor.
“I would have loved to have been there.”
“It wasn’t funny.”
“Why? Tell me, did he hurt you?” She instantly sobered.
“It’s nothing.” Turning my back on her, I drained the pasta. “He was slightly aggressive, and I threw my coffee at him in a temper.” As I emptied the pasta into the pot with the sauce, I concentrated on it rather than meet Mia’s stare.
“Aggressive how?”
“Just . . . I dunno. Demanding.” I served two portions into the bowls. “And rude.”
“Well, if he was rude, he deserved to be latte’d.”
“It was the perfect cup too.” I mourned the loss of my caffeine. “I should have hit him with my book bag.”
Mia snorted as she picked her bowl up and went to the couch. “Not sure you should have hit him at all,” she chided as she sat down. “Violence breeds violence, remember.” Scooping up a forkful of her supper, she looked at me as I ate my own. “You’re going to have to apologize.”
“No.”
“Ava, he’s the most popular guy on campus. They’re already talking about you damaging him. These football people are crazy.” Her shrewd look made me flush. “You know this better than anyone.”
“I didn’t damage him.” Staring sullenly at my dinner, I set the bowl aside. “He needs to tell people he chased me.”
“People know he chased you because you threw a hot drink at him.” Mia was looking at me with concern. “Please tell me why.”
“It’s nothing. I spoke to him on Friday.” I assumed I had . . . I don’t know what I said, but I’m sure we must have said something at some point to get to where we ended up.
“Friday!” Mia screeched. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”
“Because I don’t remember.”
“Oh.” Her incredulous excitement at me talking to the star quarterback faded when she realized I was that drunk. “Oh no, you won’t know what you said . . . at all.” Her hazel eyes were wide again, only this time in realization. “You’re screwed.”
“Eat your dinner,” I told her even as I nodded in agreement.
“I bet you criticized his game,” Mia said knowingly. “You would have mouthed off about football, and he probably took offense.”
Complete guesswork on her part, but it wasn’t unlikely. I just knew he hadn’t taken offense, or if he did, he had a strange way of showing it. “Who knows, I didn’t get the chance to ask.”
“Well, we can fix this,” Mia told me confidently as she resumed eating. “We’ll explain you’re a forgetful drunk, and he will understand.”
It was my turn to be incredulous. “You do know who we’re talking about?”
“Yes.”
“Mia. They aren’t called the Devils for no reason,” I reminded her. “They pull shit on people for less than this.”
“This is different.” Mia could be completely oblivious sometimes. “Don’t worry, Ava, we’ll fix this. I’ll think of something.”
I didn’t have her confidence as I ate my supper. In fact, I felt the pasta sitting heavily in my stomach in trepidation at Mia’s idea of fixing. I possibly would have more luck with him on my own.
Should I stick to the plan, corner him on his own, and hope he had a conversation with me? I wondered. He didn’t seem to be averse to talking . . . before. Setting my food aside, I met Mia’s worried stare.
“I can talk to him,” I told her quietly.
“Okay.” She nodded in enthusiasm. “We’ll find him tomorrow at lunch and let him know what happened.”
Standing, I picked my bowl up and took it to the sink. “I think I would be better talking to him myself,” I said to the sink, keeping my back to my best friend.
“Really? I don’t.” Mia laughed, her tone light and cheerful. “You’re terrible at socializing and will probably end up telling him that he needs to work on his arm or something.”
“His arm’s fine. What he needs is better footwork inside the pocket,” I told her as I grabbed the dishcloth and wiped my hands.
Her knowing look as she finished her supper was enough to make me groan. “Which is why I will talk, and you just say sorry, okay?”
“What if it has nothing to do with his game?” I thought perhaps giving her all the information about the evening may have been a bad idea.
She knew I was drunk, now she knew exactly how drunk I was, and I couldn’t have her knowing any more.
I was thanking every angel in heaven she hadn’t put me as his bed partner together in her head.
“Well, what else could it be?” Mia rose to her feet as she carried her bowl to me, and taking it off her, I once again turned to the sink.
“I dunno,” I mumbled as I rinsed and washed her dishes.
“Just let me handle this, okay?” Mia said as she hugged me from behind. “I’m going to practice,” she told me as she gave me another squeeze, and I nodded before she was humming to herself as she walked down the short hallway to her room.
Staring out the window at the surrounding dorms and apartments, I once again dried my hands before I folded the tea towel and put it on the side of the counter.
My fingers traced over the gray and white imitation marble countertops before they landed on the slightly yellowing gray and white checked vinyl flooring.