Hustle

I’m frowning so hard my face hurts, but at least my large shades cover my narrowed eyes. I swipe my hand over my forehead, trying to relax the wrinkles that are creasing my brow. It’s all giving me a headache, and our pace is practically a crawl. The escape of my classroom isn’t even close.

She lets off a little laugh with a shake of her head. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I really mean it.” She twists towards me and lifts her hands, palms up. “Honest to God, I don’t care, no hard feelings. Just ask Layla. She’s one of my best friends in the sorority even though she screwed him after we’d already been sisters for a year. And I know she would do it again, except he acts like she doesn’t exist now. Because that’s all he does, that’s all he’s after.”

I drop my hand from my forehead, letting it flop to my side. I wouldn’t ask Layla anything because Tatum shouldn’t be the one to spread her history. This was all too surreal, but she kept talking with a smile on her face, like it was normal conversation to her.

“Okay, I get your point.” I stop her from continuing. “It’s behind us. It’s over. But I didn’t sleep with him,” I add because I can imagine her giving this same speech to the next girl, but with my name instead of Layla’s. He’s probably already moved on to the next girl.

Her face scrunches, but it’s gone in a flash as she exhales, voice and body instantly lighter. “Good. That’s over and out of the way. I heard you were talking to Scott at the mixer.”

“Only because he’s part of the child development clinic.” I shrug, not able to brush everything off like she just did.

“That’s not the way Deena explained it.” She nods, eyes bright and wide as she sips her drink from a straw. “She said he was watching you most of the night. He’s a good guy. Nothing like Andrew, you’d be lucky to land him.”

“Then why do you do it?” I let the question free, unable to hold it in. My head’s aching, the bright sun and cold drink aren’t helping, and her continuous chatter grates on me. If she has nothing nice to say about him, why is she holding on to him? It frustrates me even more that I care for the wrong reasons.

“What?” That takes her back, and her smile slips, revealing fear through the cracks of her happy mask, not anger.

“Why are you okay with what he does? Why are you waiting around for him?” I keep my voice soft, honestly confused as I take in the graceful beauty standing before me. “You’re gorgeous and talented. You could find someone who would adore you and only you. You deserve that.” Everyone does.

“Thanks.” Her lips turn up, but she keeps her face focused straight ahead on the sidewalk in front of us. We’re nearly to the English building where my class is. “It’s hard to explain. I’m not waiting for him. I do my own thing, too.” Her head dips with her shrug. “But it’s never anything serious, for either of us. We both know we’re meant to be together, but it’s college, and he’s busy with football, and I’ve got dance. There’s no time for a relationship right now.” Her voice is absent of any emotion until she stops walking and turns to me to add, “But, really, I’m okay with it all because I know he’s worth it. He’s worth it, and I’m the only one that really knows that. Everyone else sees his talent, his future, his looks, but I know him. We have something no one can take away or come between, and that’s worth it all. It’s worth waiting for.”

Before her words can even sink in fully, she shakes her fist in the air with a mock yell. “Agh, you got me all sentimental too early in the day.” Her grin is back as she slides her arm around my shoulder and pulls my tense body to her. “Thanks for understanding though. I’ll see you around. I’ve got to go this way.” She steps back and jabs her thumb in the opposite direction than what we’ve been walking.

“Bye,” I respond, but she’s already turned away.

I let out my breath, releasing the pent up tension from our walk, with only one certainty— I need to get Andrew out of my thoughts.

Usually, keeping myself busy keeps me from thinking on things I’d rather forget. And as far as things I’d love to forget go, he shouldn’t even register anywhere near the top. This should be easy.

But when you’re on a college campus, in a football town, and it’s game day, the only thing to do is go to the game, and that focuses me directly on the person I’m trying to forget.

Even the child development clinic this morning had little children running around in red jerseys with Fayden 12 in bold print on the back, keeping him in the front of my thoughts.

I refuse to avoid the game though. That would be ridiculous. That would put more importance on the non-thing we had than it deserves. Because it was nothing, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself of as I pull my hair back into a ponytail and scan the sea of red clad people in front of me. The slight breeze brushing my neck gives instant relief from the humid heat as I walk down the student section of the stadium seats.

Rose is already seated in a row with almost everyone from our dorm floor. She turns and spots me, waving her arms and squeezing over on the bleachers to make a space for me. She’s changed her hair so only the ends are purple now and it’s smooth and sleek, falling over the jersey she’s wearing. It’s TJ’s jersey.

“You’re just in time for kickoff,” she states as she tugs on my arm when I get close enough. “Where’s your jersey? Where’s the school spirit?”

“It’s red.” I point to my tank top. I’d skipped the jersey this morning. My mother had bought it for me when I got accepted to the school, but I didn’t want Andrew’s number on me today.

She rolls her eyes, but her smile is teasing as she turns to watch the field.

“Brook, where’s your drink?” A girl from the dorm across the hall from ours, Angel, scoots next to me and let’s a pint of Vodka peek from her purse before closing it back up.

“You got some catching up to do.” Her roommate, Jess, shakes her big fountain soda cup. She’s got a child sized jersey on so Andrew’s number stretches over her large chest.

I glance to the field and silver jerseys are at the far end, our boys in red are closest to us, spreading out. I don’t focus long enough to find the number on my mind. Instead, I rise to my feet. “I’ll go get a soda now.”

Rose is serious about the game, but I spend half the time chatting to the girls from across the hall while we share Angel’s bottle. There’s no avoiding it though; the school spirit is contagious. I’m on my feet the other half of time, cheering with the crowd, filled with pride from being part of the winning school. Exhilaration surges as I watch Andrew break the line and run with the ball instead of throwing it, making it to the end zone untouched for the final play.

I pretend my excitement is no different than the many around me. Hell, some of them are much more enamored. There’s even a section of girls with Andrew’s number written inside hearts on their stomachs.

Rose is texting as we walk across campus from the stadium to our dorm. “Deena wants to hang out tonight. She want’s to know if we’ll meet them for dinner first and then hit frat row.”

“We’ll be going to the Delta’s party tonight,” Angel states, pinching the front of her jersey and lifting it off her skin. “It’s hot as balls out though. They need to install some shade for our student section.”

“Agreed.” Jess reties her hair back up on her head. “I need to shower the funk off me and nap, too. But maybe we can all meet up? We’ll call you later?”



Our dinner is fast food across from Frat row, but we eat our fries and burgers inside the restaurant. Deena and Tatum sit on one side of the booth, and Rose, Layla, and I sit on the other.

“Has TJ called you yet? Where are they hanging out tonight?” Deena questions as she rolls her half uneaten burger up in its wrapper and tosses it into the bag.

“I’m not sure. Maybe he’ll call later though. But we can have fun without them anyways.” Rose shrugs, tapping on her phone in her hand. “I heard Delta’s having something.”

“Delta it is then.” Layla giggles. “I want to grind on someone tonight.”

“Well, at least Brooklyn’s here for bathroom duty if you pass out again.” Deena winks to me, and Layla continues her tipsy laughing, already buzzed before she walked in the door.

“Are you two dating?” Tatum questions Rose. “Or just hanging out?”

“Just hanging out.”

“You’ve been hanging out for what? Two weeks now? You should get him to take you on a real date,” Tatum encourages.

Rose shrugs again and casts a quick, nervous glance at me.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a real date,” I blurt out, trying to save my friend. Her and TJ’s relationship was something she’d been stressing over. He’d been pulling back some, only calling her in the evenings to spend the night. But he claimed it was practice and school keeping him busy. “Do people actually date still?”

“I bet you could get Scott to take you on a date,” Deena teases.

I think of Scott’s pretty light blue eyes and soft sandy blonde hair. His preppy surfer look is attractive in a sweet way, and recalling him with the children at the clinic today warms my heart, but nothing about him excites me. Maybe that’s okay though. Maybe that’s better, safer.

“Ha, what was that advice you told me Tatum?” Layla slaps the table. “Pull out a knife on the first date.”

“What?” Rose perks up, a confused smile on her face that probably matches mine.

Tatum shakes her head with a smile. “My Dad gave me a pocketknife, taught me to use it, too. So I always found ways to show boys that I had it.” She slides out of the seat with her bag of trash, her little black romper shows off her long tan legs as she stands to her full height. We all follow her out. “Sometimes it’s carving my initials into trees, or cutting up my steak with it.” She laughs. “It all depends how bad the date’s going.”

“That’s crazy. Do you still carry the knife?” Rose questions, brushing unseen crumbs off her shorts.

Tatum holds open the door for all of us with her long, slim arm. “Of course. You don’t grow up in Homestead and not carry a knife. It’s ingrained in me now.”

“Don’t let her fool you. Our little ballerina grew up outside of Homestead.” Deena flaps her hand to Tatum who’s the definition of a classic beauty with her brown hair pinned back in a bun and flawless skin showing under her little outfit.

“It was close enough to see things,” Tatum demands. “But no matter where you’re from, you should carry a knife.”

“Are we going to Delta’s house?” Deena questions as we walk across the street to the horseshoe that make up frat row.

I look at the ring of lit up houses. Like last time, it doesn’t really matter where you choose; the parties spill into each other, all the yards covered with people.

“Lets start at Sig and work our way around.” Layla suggests, walking ahead to the first house. “I want a drink, stat.”

It’s nearly one in the morning when Rose finally finds me watching a beer pong game with Deena. She holds up her phone with a bright smile, the smile that means she’s heard from TJ. “He’s over at Gamma Tau. Can we go?”

She’s speaking to me, but Deena answers, “Hell yeah. I’ll get Layla and Tate. Wait here.”

“It’s late.” Something that feels too much like excitement tingles in my chest at the thought of meeting up with the football players. “Maybe I’ll get a cab now, and you can just go with them.” I knew where she’d end her night anyways, so I might as well go now.

“No, please.” Rose grabs my hand and gives me a pleading look. “Please just come with me for a little bit, he didn’t invite me to stay the night yet. No sense in two cab fares to the same place if he doesn’t.”

“Okay.” I gave in easily, not wanting to leave her without knowing where she’d end up. Or at least that’s what I told myself.

Gamma’s living room is jam-packed; we link our hands in tight grips to make our way through the thick crowd without losing one another. TJ’s in the basement, so we follow Rose to the door leading downstairs, but we’re stopped before we can pass through by three guys seated in lawn chairs with neon sunglasses covering their eyes.

“Sorry, lovelies, can’t let you through.” One kicks out his leg, blocking the narrow hallway before Rose can pass.

“What?”

“We’ve got orders.” Another one shrugs. “But there’s plenty to do on the main floor. Stick around, maybe I can find you later when I’m off duty.”

“Excuse me.” Tatum steps forward. “She was invited by TJ to come here. TJ O’Connor. We know he’s down there so let us through. We’re Deltas.”

The three sit up and look at each other, but their expression is hard to read with their shades on.

“I’ll call Rob,” one finally relents.

After a quick phone call, they stand and let us pass.

Andrew’s the first thing I see when I step down the stairs. He’s sitting on the couch, his body taking up the most space with his casual stance. He takes a sip of his beer bottle, but he pulls it down as he spots me. Something flinches in his features, but then his gaze flicks to Tatum and his jaw clenches before he turns away altogether, his focus back on those around him.

The basement isn’t nearly as crowded as the living room, but it’s full enough that when I step off the stairs, he’s blocked from my view. Rose seems to know where she’s going though, and I follow her.

Before I even recognize that she’s found him, TJ’s got her in his arms and dips over her in a deep kiss. When they break apart, he continues to whisper things to her that has her giggling.

I turn away, and it’s only Layla still standing with me, so we walk together into the crowd.

“Hey.” Kyle greets us, materializing from between a group of people with a drink in his hand.

I nod at him tight lipped, but Layla returns his greeting.

He steps to my side with a bright smile and gestures his cup towards TJ. “Don’t worry. My job’s done. Looks like he gets her whether you’re around or not now.”

“Job well done.”

He laughs at my dry tone. “Yeah. Well, I’m sure there will be a new girl soon for me to scare away, she’s reaching her limit.”

“Kyle,” Layla yells with a laugh. “Stop being a jerk.” She slaps his arm and earns a glare in return.

“Don’t even start with me, Layla. I’m not saying anything but the truth.” He turns to me and puts out his hand. “Peace offering. Let me get you a drink.”

“I’ll pour my own drink, thanks.” I’m still wary of him.

“Fine. I’ll show you where they are.” He slides his hand to my back but I step to the side and gesture for him to lead the way.

There’s a well-stocked fridge and keg in the corner of the room. Kyle pulls two plastic cups from the top of the fridge and hands one to Layla and me. “Liquors behind the bar, Layla. What do you want?” He questions me.

But my words stick in my throat when Andrew steps beside him. His dark hair is in a sexy mess, his green eyes bright against his golden tan, but there’s nothing warm in his words to Kyle. “I thought you were leaving?”

“In a little bit,” Kyle mumbles. “We won today, Drew.”

“Yeah, we did.” He glances at Layla and me, then back to Kyle. “But I still need to talk to you.”

“All right, fine.” Kyle walks off into the crowd.

Andrew turns towards me, his gaze softening as it lands on my face. His voice is even softer. “I want to talk to you, too. I’ll find you later.”

I want to say no. I want to shake my head. But he doesn’t give me a chance. He turns and follows Kyle before I can respond.

“What was that about?” Layla steps in front of me, her heart shaped face pinched with suspicion.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Her voice is high and whiney. “You don’t know why he wants to talk to you? Didn’t he take you home the other night? Why would he need to talk to you now?”

My stomach dips, swishing the alcohol I’d already consumed. “I’m going to find Rose. I’m going home.” I walk away from her, not wanting to explain anything.

Rose is still with TJ. She’s on the couch with him, a drink in her hand. She sits up towards me when I approach.

“I’m going to leave now. Everything okay?” I question in her ear for only her to hear.

She smiles wide and nods, pulling me back to speak in my ear. “Yeah, we’re leaving soon, too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I don’t look for the other girls, but walk straight for the stairs and out the door, weaving between hot bodies on my way out.

“Hey sweetheart, you all alone?” one guy yells from the porch as I walk away from the house, but I ignore his drunken catcalls and keep going.

When a hand lands on my shoulder, I jump with a yell, spinning towards whoever’s behind me.

“Sorry. It’s me, Scott. Didn’t mean to scare you.” He half laughs with his hands raised. “Sorry, really. I thought it was you leaving.”

It takes a moment for me to catch my breath from the fright constricting my lungs, but he continues talking with observant eyes on me.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my dorm.” I give him a smile to reassure him that I’m okay.

“Alone? Who’s going with you?”

“I’m getting a cab.” I brush off his concern. I know the dangers of walking alone, but I know bad things can happen anytime, too. I’ve learned to numb the constant fear.

“Oh.” He swipes his hand through his styled hair. It has to be styled as tall as the swoop is, but it looks so soft in the moonlight. “Well, I wanted to let you know, I got the permission of the Frat to use the field on Charles street, and they agreed to come next Saturday to help with the party.”

My heart leaps to my throat, and I wrap my arms around him instantly, overcome with gratitude.

“Thank you.” I speak over his shoulder as he dips down to hug me back, his arms around my waist. “Thank you.”

My conversation with the mother earlier today is stuck in my head; she had been so upset not to be able to provide a birthday party for her soon to be four-year-old son who had spent most of his life in and out of hospitals. Now he was in remission from leukemia, but the bills from his treatment left them with little money. This was his first birthday where he wasn’t in a hospital though, so they were grateful. But I had thought to make next Saturday’s clinic a celebration for him, and now Scott’s made it something even better.

His arms loosen their grip, reminding me that I’m still clinging to him.

I slide away, holding in the tears that fill my eyes. “That’s amazing for you to have done that, really. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” He directs a shy half smile my way. “And after talking to Professor Yates, he agreed to let me assist in his case study on community impacts on doctors care. This helps with that. It’ll be great on my resume to med school.”

He deserves my full attention, and I try to give it, but Andrew approaching steals some of it away. It steals some of the warmth I felt moments ago, too, replacing it with a sickening anticipation.

“That’s great. Whatever the reason,” I keep talking, ignoring Andrew as he steps to the side of Scott, all his attention on me. “I’ll call his mom tomorrow and let her know.”

Scott doesn’t ignore him though. He keeps glancing to him, his confidence slipping away. “I’m glad I could help. I wanted to tell you sooner, but lost your number.”

Andrew turns to him then. His cool gaze holds an unmistakable challenge.

Scott doesn’t continue the stare down, but I rise to the challenge, fueled by anger and alcohol.

“I’ll call you right now, so you’ll have my number again. I still have yours.” I pull out my phone and pound on the screen, taking longer than I like to find his number. But eventually, the faint sound of music is heard from his pocket.

“That’s me,” I speak cheerfully and slide my phone back into my shorts pockets. “I’ll call you tomorrow to go over details. See ya later.”

I turn to leave, but fingers slide against mine and barely grab a hold, but it stills my whole body.

“Wait.” Andrew’s voice is low, dripping over me like honey. “I need to talk to you.”