4. Beautiful Brown Eyes
4
BEAUTIFUL brOWN EYES
OLIVER
I never asked her out. Granted, I know it was a bad idea to even think of doing it anyway, since she literally just caught her boyfriend cheating, but still. I chickened out. I did on the other hand, stick to Tommy’s plan, even though I still think it’s fucking ridiculous. But I figured being her friend was what she needed, something she could use, and then I just never made the move. I had the chance, but then it got swept out from under me. Literally.
By none other than Gus Russo. He’s a sophomore, and a friend of the family. Our parents are super close and since we’re close in age, we hung out a lot at family events. He’s a decent guy, funny too. My parents gave me a heads up that he got accepted to Covington, and when I found out he was going to be on the team I was psyched – he’s like lighting on the ice. Everything was fine the first team orientation, where he met Mallory for the first time and asked her out.
Granted, Mallory is fucking gorgeous. She’s sweet, and cute – dresses amazing too. It’s hard for guys to not stare at her. But I can't really talk. My eyes are always on her. She’s so pretty, I just want to stare at her forever .
Guys have been asking her out for ages. But she’s never said yes. Well, no, she has. Mallory’s hooked up with a few guys here and there, but that’s not really dating. Prince fucking charming over here full on asked her on a date. And when she told him about her dad’s ‘no dating the team’ rule, he proposed something else.
And. She. Didn’t. Say. No.
I could have been an asshole and played the captain card, forbidding him to hang out with her in an one–on–one capacity, but I didn’t. I thought it would fizzle out after a few weeks. It didn’t. Now it’s a year later and they’re still… doing whatever the fuck they’re doing.
I’m thankful they’re not a full-on couple like Shawn and Courtney. If I had to see the love of my life kiss someone else every time I saw them, I’d burst into flames.
Which is exactly why when they’re together, I call her. A lot. I never have an excuse or a reason, it’s all bullshit. Call me territorial, but I don’t want her spending time with a guy that isn’t me. Knowing Gus went to her work to see her. It drove me crazy. I had to think of something. Did I move practise up by thirty minutes, tell the guys that coach moved it and tell coach we wanted to start earlier? Yes, Yes I did, and I’d do it again.
This time when I called him I did have a plan. I decided that today is the day I grow the fuck up and ask her out, making it plainly clear to her that if she didn’t want to say yes, nothing would change. I’d die inside every time I saw her, but it would all be internal. I was going to do it, I was. But then she came out of the back room, and she looked at me with those beautiful brown doe eyes and that megawatt smile, and everything went to shit.
My brain emptied for a second, it does that every time I look at her. Temporarily blinded by her beauty, I forgot what I was going to say. Then she said she slept with other guys and it all came flooding back. It hit me like a harsh wave. I have no right to be jealous, I hook up with girls too. But the thought of other guys touching her makes me want to post a bulletin on campus saying she’s taken. But I wouldn’t do that, would I?
Nah, even if I did, it wouldn’t work. Damon Beaumont did the same thing for his younger sister Clementine, and I think Cory’s slept with her. I’m pretty sure it was her at least. All I saw was the back of a blonde girl’s head, but she gives us a weird look whenever we see her around the quad, so I’m almost certain it was her.
I couldn’t concentrate during practice. Which is a bad thing for anyone to do, especially a captain, considering we have a game next week. I was so in my head during practice that coach asked to see me after I shower. Which could mean two things: either he found out about the party tonight and is going to beat the shit out of me for even thinking about going. Or he knows something’s up with Mallory.
I really hope it’s the former, not the latter.
Shawn and I walk out of the showers, towels wrapped around our waists, when we hear Gus’ voice.
“You guys still hooking up?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna hang out at the football party tonight.”
“Man I can’t believe you bagged Mallory fucking Grace. She’s so sexy, the things I would do to her if–”
I slam one of the lockers shut, startling the sophomores changing. Shawn stands to my left with his arms folded. Cory and Tommy come up behind the sophomores, caging them in.
“Go on,” I stare them down. “You were just about to tell everyone what you were going to do with Coach’s daughter if you had the chance. I know I for one, would love to know what you were going to say.”
Silence engulfs the room. The sophomores all turn red as they look at their feet.
“Well?”
“Sorry, Cap. we didn’t mean to – it’s just locker room – we’re sorry.”
“Talk about her like that again, and I'll make you skate laps until you puke, make you clean it up, then make you do it all over again. Get going.”
The sophomores grab their bags and spill out of the room, leaving Gus behind. Shawn, Cory and Tommy move their things and get changed on the furthest side of the room, giving me some space to talk to Gus.
“You going to tell me what that was about?” I say, walking over to my section of the bench, sorting through my duffel. “Come on, Gussie, don’t make me guess.”
I drop my towel and pull my boxers up my legs. I don’t need to look at Gus to know he’s glaring daggers at me. He hates that nickname. It’s what his parents call him, he loathes it. His full name is Augustus, named after some king of Poland or some shit. Anyway, he hates it. So I use it when I want him to actually answer my fucking questions.
“I told them to stop,” he finally says. “Whenever we talk about her they always go on and on and on about how much they want to fuck her – it creeps me out man, but they won’t stop.”
“Funny, from where I was standing, I didn't hear you use the word stop at all. ”
Gus deflates. “Ollie, I swear, this time wasn’t as bad as–”
I spin round to face him, and his mouth immediately shuts. “This time? So your argument for not defending her when your ‘friends’ were objectifying her is that this time it was tamer? Really, Gus?”
“I fucked up.” He sighs.
“Yeah, you did. Come on, Gus, you’re better than this. You need to do better than this,” I throw my sweats on, and slip on my trainers, lacing them up. “Mallory is sweet and funny and kind, and she goddamn doesn’t deserve this kind of attention but she gets it either way, and if you want to be with her, then you need to grow a fucking pair and stand up for her. How do you think she’d feel if she found out the guys were talking shit about her, and you did fuck all to defend her? That you get to see her naked, and touch her and make her feel good, but you can’t even defend her to your friends? You need to do better, Gus.” I finish lacing my shoes and throw my sweatshirt over my head. When I look back at Gus, he’s staring at me, with a look I can't quite figure out. Over his shoulder, the guys are also looking at me, with shit eating grins on their faces.
“What?”
“You uh,” Gus rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure she’s just your friend, Ollie?”
I swallow. If I come clean to him, he’ll end it with Mallory and she’ll think it’s her fault. But if I lie to him and it comes out later, he’ll hate me.
So I say nothing instead.
I practically run through the hallway, hoping to just go home and get an angry text from coach instead. I just need to make it to the —
“Going somewhere?”
I stop in my tracks, squeezing my eyes shut. So much for that plan. I turn around to see Coach Grace, standing there in his usual Covington tracksuit, his black–rimmed glasses on his nose.
“Just a quick word, Ashby, then you can go.” He folds his hands behind his back as he heads into his office. I stare up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath. Here we go.
I walk into the coach's office to find him already sitting behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him.
Oh fuck.
“What’s going on with my daughter, captain?”
I feel like I'm sweating through my shirt. I sit in the chair opposite him, throwing my bag on the floor.
“Why would there be any?—”
“Cut the crap, son. You were in your head out there on the ice. You only do that when something’s going on with my daughter.”
I sink further into my chair. “I do not.”
“Yes you do. You have sympathy pains. Mirrored emotions. Whenever something’s going on with her, you get in your head about it, trying to come up with ways to fix something that you most likely didn’t cause.”
Damn, he’s good.
“She’s,” I sigh, running a hand through my still damp hair. “She’s fine.” Coach just blinks at me. “She is, I promise. I’m fixing it.” I can practically see the words as usual written in his gaze. “Can I go?” I don’t wait for him to respond before I stand, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
“Son,” he says, rising from his chair. He rounds his desk to stand closer, lowering his voice. “If you want to tell her how you feel, best do it soon. Hm? Before another boy who doesn’t deserve her, sweeps her off her feet.”
Gus.
Now it’s my turn to blink at him. I go to respond, but he raises a hand.
“Don’t even try it. Don’t deny it. I see the way you look at my baby girl. Tell her,” he says, almost pleading. “Before it’s too late.”
I’m in my car, halfway home when I'm still thinking about my conversation with coach.
Before another boy who doesn’t deserve her sweeps her off her feet.
I don’t have a right to be jealous. She’s my friend, I made that clear to her freshman year. But times change, and I'm growing tired of being just her friend.
I open the front door to the guys sitting in the living room, playing a video game. I slam the door and throw my bag on the floor. They all turn to me, frowning.
“Dude, what’s up?”
“Nothing – I'll be right back.”
I storm upstairs to my room and shut the door. Then I walk over to my desk, pull out my notebook, and start drafting a speech. Something to help me declare my love for my best friend. Because I need to tell her. I don’t want her with Gus, or anyone else. I want her with me, and I’m running out of time to do something about it.