SULLIVAN
Chapter Three
As I check the time, it occurs to me that no one is expecting me to be anywhere. No matter how dark it is, no matter how late, which does feel a little more like freedom.
The night air is crisp and cool. The university is nestled in the middle of the northern Ozarks, and we’re further from sea level than I’m used to, so it’s chilly for early September.
At least—for what I was expecting. Being from the Canadian border means I’m used to cold, but Missouri seemed so far south when I was told this was where I’d be attending school.
Tonight, I bet the temperature isn’t all that different from home.
I have a good buzz from the whiskey the twins kept sneaking me, but I’m definitely not drunk. I’m just kind of…happy. Forced fun was actually fun, and exploring the campus at night with half the football team and a few other guys from my hall isn’t bad either.
After everyone went to their rooms to refresh and re-equip themselves for an adventure, we met up in the common room where Gabe was still cleaning up his snack table. He had his earbuds in and looked like he was still having a great time, giving us all a thumbs up like his work here was done.
Now, we’re entering the woods, using a combination of real and phone flashlights. The quarterback who won the tournament, Knight, has a mag light, and he’s walking beside me, asking a million and one questions that seem designed to prove I’m not actually from Sunrise Point.
I wasn’t convinced he was either, but his questions are incredibly detailed down to the always broken stoplight on Main Street and Shore.
“All right, fine,” I joke. “I believe you. You’ve at least been there.”
“I was born there,” he assures me.
“You were born at home? There’s no hospital. Don’t make me doubt you now.”
“I meant like—metaphorically.”
“Metaphoric birth. Okay. I guess that’s a thing.”
He sighs heavily, holding a branch out of the way so I can walk past him. “You’re right. Technically, I was born in Marquette.”
“Close enough,” I concede.
We’re in the middle of the pack of a dozen people. No one’s being quiet, so I’m less afraid of wildlife than I probably should be, but I’ve also always liked the woods at night. “Do you know where we’re going?”
“Some place called The Front. I don’t know.”
“Did you know any of these guys before you came here?” I ask.
“No. But I’d heard about most of them. Especially the twins.”
“They’re funny.” The big twins are like giant marshmallows with resting bitch faces.
“They’re beasts,” he says.
Since they weigh nearly three-hundred pounds apiece, he’s likely right.
Knight isn’t small either, but he’s not built like a tank the way the twins are.
He’s got a leaner frame with muscle packed on like Deandre.
He’s not as tall as my roommate, though.
Six-two, maybe. The way I found him staring at me earlier was something I’d blown off until he dropped back from the crowd of others to walk with me.
Now he’s more or less clearing my path, and I don’t get it.
I might be a music major, but I’m not small. I’m not weak, either. Compared to him, maybe. He might be able to bench press me. His attention is interesting, though. Focused. Mysterious. Or maybe that’s just the night pulling us deeper into the dark woods.
“What about your roommate?” I ask.
“Never met him before training started.”
“He seemed really excited about that calendar.”
Knight huffs as he guides the beam from his flashlight toward the group of half a dozen guys who are breaking through a tree line and shouting with triumph. “I guess they found it.”
“What is it, though?”
He gestures for me to walk ahead. “Let’s go find out.”
A wave of pure exhilaration hits me, different from the buzz of alcohol and twice as potent. I reach for the phone in my pocket but still my hand before grabbing it. I don’t need to know what time it is. I don’t need to check my messages. Because I am free.
This is freedom.
Giving Knight a grin, I clap him on the arm as I pass him, finding the train tracks in the forest and the tunnel the other guys are racing toward.
“Whoa.”
Beams from their phones bounce from the tracks to the trees to the tunnel.
Knight, behind me again, makes a noise that sounds dubious.
I can smell his soap, a hint of amber that’s sharp enough to cut through the scent of the woods and strong enough that I turn to find him just behind me. Inches away.
Out here, my eyes are still adjusting to the night. There’s a half moon in a clear sky, but the flashlight beam I’ve been following has played some tricks with my vision. Still, he’s looking at me, and the attention of his dark eyes is hard to miss.
My mouth is dry, and I don’t know whether to blame the alcohol, the walk, or the look on his face. “Are you glad you came?” he asks.
“Yeah. You?”
“That tunnel’s creepy as fuck.”
“I don’t know.” I turn back to it, needing out from under his assessing gaze. “Build a fire, sing a few songs, it could be cozy.”
He laughs softly. “How much whiskey did you have?”
I step up onto the train tracks and head toward the tunnel to join everyone else. “Apparently just enough.”
“Do you like doing stuff like this?”
“Back home there’s an abandoned house in the woods out near the lake not too far from where I live. When I was younger, I used to hang out there almost every day in the summer. Someone eventually bought the property, but the house is still there. They just fenced it off.”
“Did you go by yourself?” Knight asks as he keeps pace with me.
“Yeah, I mean, not everyone is into creepy abandoned houses.”
“I am,” he says.
I turn to him with a little bit of surprise.
He quickly says, “Well, not like the kind you’re talking about, but my mom’s a realtor, and she lets me check on the empty houses. Sometimes spend the night. Which is cool. Or not. I mean, I like it. Anyway, you were saying?”
I grin at him. “Are you nervous?”
“What? I—a little.”
“Scared of the dark?”
“No, it’s not that.”
I nod. Football players. They’re just like the rest of us, I guess. “All right.”
We’ve arrived at the tunnel, and Tyson is huddled up with four other guys. He looks up at us as we enter. “We need to get some wood. Looks like that’s where they build the fires.”
He nods toward a wide circle of scorched earth just inside the entrance to the tunnel. It’s on the left side of the tracks marked with an improvised barrier of scattered rocks.
“Do we know for sure there’s not gonna be a train?” Knight asks.
“No clue, but my brother never said anything about a train.”
“Why’s it called The Front?” I ask.
“Maybe because the fire pit is at the front of the tunnel?” Knight suggests.
The rest of the group has caught up, and soon, we’re all gathering wood for a fire.
The twins build it like they’ve been doing survival training since they were in diapers.
Before we know it, the front of the tunnel is all lit up, illuminating years’ worth of graffiti on the dark brick.
Everyone’s flashlights turn off, and I have a seat near the tunnel entrance, my ass on the ground and my back against the brick.
I’m close enough to the fire to feel warmth but not the heat.
Deandre makes himself comfortable on my left, and Knight sits on my right.
It’s a loose gathering, the fire not quite at the center of it but more behind it.
Three bottles of liquor are being passed around, and two of the non-athlete guys are sharing a joint.
“What would you be doing if you weren’t out here right now?” Knight asks.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“Why? What would you be doing?” I ask.
“Don’t do that. Why do you keep doing that? I ask you a question, you don’t answer it, and then ask me the same question.”
“And you answer it,” I say with a short laugh. “I thought that was our thing.”
He rubs the back of his neck, a slight smile turning up his mouth. “It’s pretty late. I’d be sleeping.”
“Me too, but that’s not really what you were asking, huh?”
“No,” he says. “I guess not.”
“You know, just because we’re from the same place doesn’t mean we have to be friends.
” I’m not sure why I say that. It’s not like I’m all stocked up on friends here and can’t handle a single extra one.
I have none, but the quarterback? Red shirt or not, I know how big of a deal football is at this school.
Maybe it feels like a waste of time? Energy? Effort? Hope?
Knight seems like a genuinely nice guy, although historically, I’m not the best judge of character.
I miss red flags all the time. I sometimes don’t even listen to direct warnings.
I’d like to be better about that. There’s something refreshing about him, though.
His dogged attempts to continue this conversation are impressive even if I don’t understand them.
“Gabe would be sad you said that,” he says.
I laugh. “Sorry. I just meant you’ve got a lot going on this year and a lot of other people you could be getting to know.”
“Maybe I’m homesick.”
“Already?”
“You’re not?” he asks. “A little?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. But seriously.”
His knees are bent in front of him, same as mine. He leans one of his legs over, and our thighs touch. It sends a bolt of awareness through me, shocking me more than anything. Deandre passes a bottle of Jim Beam to me. I take a long drink of it, and Knight watches me do it.
I realize I’m staring back at him as his gaze drops from my eyes to my mouth to my throat as I swallow.
Understanding finally manages to snake its way through my body from where our legs are touching to my lips that now sting from the alcohol on them.
He’s been flirting with me. I hold out the bottle for him. He takes it, watching me as he puts his mouth where mine just was and takes a long swallow.
I’m suddenly hot and uncomfortable. The ground is hard as hell beneath me, and his leg feels like it’s burning mine. There’s interest on his face, but nothing like greed. Nothing like what I’m used to.