One (4 page)

In my haze, I realize
whom they mean. UW quarterback. He's the first thing I heard about
when I got on campus. Someone named a burger after him. I jab a
finger into Nat's ribs to get her attention. Her eyes remain glued to
Cade, but she tilts her head in acknowledgement.

"Which of them is
Pax?" I ask curiously, gesturing to a few men who have stepped
into the circle. Some of them have their backs to me.

"How do you not
know?"

"How do
you
even know?" I quip back.

"Besides the fact
that his face is
everywhere
? We're friends on Facebook."

"I didn't know you
knew him." I shouldn't be surprised though. Nat's been out every
night since moving in. She's what I imagine a social butterfly might
act like.

Nat shrugs. "I
don't
know him
know him. I just know him."

I pause, trying to
absorb her gibberish through the thick fog covering my mind. "I'm
not sure what that means, Nat."

"What I
mean
is that we've never actually met face to face so Pax doesn't
technically know who I am-"

My eyebrows raise.
"'Technically' know who you are?" I echo. "What
happened to the good ole' days where people either know you or don't
know you?" I wonder. I don't realize I've spoken out loud until
Nat answers me.

"Gone like the
wind, baby." She flashes a smile. "Anyway, I see tagged
pictures of him and read his statuses so I'm pretty aware of what
goes on in his life."

Nat notices my
expression and manages to look a little sheepish. "I know, I
know. I'm kind of a stalker. But everyone's doing it, trust me. By
the way, we're not friends on Facebook. We should be, considering we
live together and all."

"I don't have a
Facebook," I confess. I almost got one once, but I realized
there was no one I wanted to connect with. I didn't know anyone else
other than the circle Grandma had built around me.

"You shittin' me?"
I've never heard her swear so much. I look at her, suddenly realizing
how little I know about her. "We need to get you set up with
one," she tells me. "Then we're going to a party where
you'll get to take a proper slutty picture and post it all over your
page." She sounds serious so I don't laugh. There's a moment of
silence until I nod.

"So which one is
Pax?" I ask, breaking the quiet.

"Really dark hair.
Green eyes. Killer smile. He's got a little dimple on his left cheek
when he grins. He also has a small tattoo of two hands intertwined
underneath his right chest. It's so sexy and romantic. I want to lick
it."

I gasp.

"Did I just say
that out loud? Too much information?"

I nod. "You
weren't kidding. You kind of
are
a stalker."

"Eh." She
goes on her tiptoes, scanning the men in the circle. "Look for
the guy with a tattoo of two hands on his chest," she instructs.

I squint my eyes but
it's hard to see in the darkness. Everyone looks like a pale shadow.

"There! That one!"
She points excitedly. "I know that thick head of hair anywhere."

I blurt out, "Nat,
it's crazy you can pick him out because of his hair, you
do
know that, right?"

"Not as crazy as
you not having Facebook," she quips back without looking at me.
"That guy is serious eye candy, Jules. That right there could
get you out of your funk." Ref whistles.

I wince, and cover my
head. The sound is like a foghorn in my ears. "I'm not in a
funk," I deny.

"So you stay home
every night because you
want
to?" I nod. She looks
shocked. "All this time, I thought some guy broke your heart or
something…"

I shake my head. I
almost confess what I really think about men, but I hold that
admission in. Maybe my filter's coming back.

"Lucky in the
sack, Pax!"

"I'll give you the
ride of your life!"

I wince because the
last shout comes from directly behind me. Apparently Nat's not the
only girl who's lost her beans for Pax. "Maybe the whole
football team aren't actually players and are brothel workers for
campus," I joke, as the amount of skin showing seems to double
with each passing minute.

Nat laughs. "I
wouldn't care. I'd gladly pay for
that
."

I follow her line of
vision, and that's when I see him.

I gasp. "I know
him. He saved me from a headline I don't want."

"Huh?"

"When I was
sledding on the grass."

"
Huh?
"

Pax,
I say the
name in my mind, testing it out in my head. From this distance I
can't see him as well, but I stared into his face earlier. Nat had
said he had green eyes, but in the shadows of the night his eyes look
dark. I know his mouth is full. I know his voice is cool and calm,
and somehow I can picture him as a leader, leading the charge at
every game. Even from where I'm standing, I see Pax's wide, broad
shoulders. I know his body is tan from the summer sun because I was
inches from it. He's moved into a sitting position on the ground,
relaxed, but the contour of muscles bulging along his arms and
shoulders are defined and distinct. I wonder if he'll feel like
Braidon, cardboard and stiff. Or maybe he'd feel stronger. Like
steel.

"Pax, Pax, Pax…"

"All right!"
Cade calls to the crowd, trying to silence them. He's standing next
to Ref. Both wave their hands for quiet, but it takes a full minute
before it's possible for everyone to hear Cade. "Listen up. As
you all know, this is a fundraiser. We promised you entertainment, so
here's us trying to fill a little bit of time before the band gets
here. They're running late, but we promise you they'll be here. We're
going to be partying
all night long
and all proceeds go to
Hearts of Love!"

The crowd cheers. Human
whistles fill my ears until I hear nothing but the high-pitched
calls. "This is a good night for us. A victory against South
Carolina, and Pax is back in full. To prove that he's going to be
taking volunteers. Any girls willing to ride?"

There are, of course.
Pax grins and the smile makes his face almost boyish. Abruptly, I
notice his dimple. Nat was right. Pax walks to the center of the
circle, holding his hands together, preparing to speak.

"Hearts of Love is
all about second chances," Pax begins in the quiet. "It's
about fixing mistakes, overcoming obstacles, and finding yourself in
the end. Hearts of Love does everything- counseling, provides
financial aid, housing- they make dreams come true for those that
need it the most. They helped me through my surgery when I thought
I'd never be the same again," he confesses in that same
collected tone that helps to dissipate the fog in my head. "Sometimes
this world is cruel," he continues. "Sometimes this world
is full of death."

Red.

I blink and the color
is gone.

"Sometimes this
world is a shit fest that just doesn't end. And
some
times,
there is hope.
Some
times your wasteland can grow again.
Some
times you can do more than just survive. You can love. You
can live. You can be spontaneous." His eyes flicker over the
crowd, slowly, purposefully. I watch his eyes, trying to imagine the
green in them. I follow his gaze until…

…his eyes crash into
mine.

His lips form a grin
that I can't help but return. I smile sheepishly back, and wave
meekly. His grin grows wider.

"That one."

The smile is frozen on
my face. Or maybe my face is frozen, and the smile can't break it.
Pax winks, and that playful gesture does nothing to calm my jittery
nerves that have suddenly started jumping up and down.

"I think he's
pointing at you, Jules," Nat tells me in an excited voice. "Go!"
I'm still in such a daze I let her push me out of the crowd,
stumbling on my own feet.

"Wait," she
shouts, grabbing me. Her fingers do something to my top. "You'll
thank me later," she whispers fast. "Hold on tight!"
With those parting words, she pushes harder, stepping back into an
ever-growing crowd. I'm swaying slightly from the force of her shove.
I don't know what she's done until I look down.

Then I'm mortified.

She's ripped open the
top half of my shirt. The buttons are nowhere to be found and both
sides are hanging loosely exposing my push up bra. My short jean
shorts suddenly feel tighter as my whole body inflates, becoming
embarrassed.

"Hello there."

I whip around. Pax is
standing inches from me. A dimple appears on his cheek as he looks
down.

"I forgot to
introduce myself earlier. I'm Reid Paxton," he says. "But
everyone calls me Pax." My brain cells scatter. Awareness is
starting to settle in. "Are you okay with this?" he asks,
as concern furrows his brows. "I know you said tonight was a
night of spontaneity and I thought this might be something you could
try." I stare at him dumbly, fighting the urge to clasp the
front of my shirt together. I try to remember the lightness in my
head. I try to forget the crowd. I nod.

"All right ladies
and gentlemen! Our volunteer is here." Cade's voice saves me
from Pax's gaze and my body's own inability to form words. He touches
the small of my back, urging me closer to Pax. "All she has to
do is put her legs around him…and ride," Cade shouts to the
anticipatory crowd. There are a few snickers.

"Remember, this is
for charity. Every push up he does with her on top is one dollar. Any
takers?" His question is answered with shouts and grunts. At
least I'm not the only one who can't speak around this man. Cade
leaves us to write down names of people willing to "donate".
There's a buzz in my ear, like my body is chasing the alcohol through
my body.
This isn't a good
idea,
I realize.
This
isn't like me.
Yet my body is trembling. The side effects of a
little too much to drink or is it something else?

"Do I make you
nervous?" His husky drawl drips like chocolate covering a ripe,
round strawberry. Does he make me nervous?
Does a simmering
volcano make an ant nervous?
The thoughts whisper through me.
It's a burst of sanity.

"Nervous? I'm not
nervous," I babble, refusing to look at him. The buzzing gets
louder making me more jittery and restless. What's that thing I do
where I take in air, and then let it out? Oh yes, breathing. I need
to do that.

I try to calm down. I
try to feel balanced. That burn down my throat isn't balanced though.
It's not steady. It's a fire. It's a roar. And my body no longer
belongs to me alone. It belongs to that high; that peak that moments
earlier I was basking in.

I make a strangled
sound and inhale through my nostrils, taking in the smoky air like a
ravenous puppy finding milk. Instantly, I feel Pax's heat next to me.
Soon I'll be immersed in it, wrapped in it.

Wrapped around
him
.

So does that make me
nervous? Only a hundred kinds of nervous.

"Time to begin!"
Cade yells, as he jogs back to Pax and me, flashing his pearly
whites. He pounds Pax on the back. "Don't drop the ball,"
he grins.

"As if I ever do."

Cade turns to me. I see
the second he registers my cleavage is exposed to the world. His eyes
appraise me slowly. He gives me an appreciative grin. "Well,
hello there."

"Hi," I
reply, unsteadily. "Um, should we start now?" I don't mean
to be rude, but words are bursting out of me with abandon. Something
else owns my thoughts now.

"You okay?"
Pax asks me kindly. "You look a little green."

"I'm a second away
from vomiting every cell inside me, and call me crazy, but I'd prefer
not to start off my year known as the Vomiter." The words are
candid. A part of me realizes I should've kept them inside.

Pax bites his lower
lip. I'm not sure if he's concerned or if he's trying not to laugh.

"Let's start."
He inserts himself between us, blocking Cade's view of me. His firm,
half- naked body is next to my face. Pax's musky cologne combined
with a sweaty scent unique to him suddenly assails my nostrils
tipping my senses further.

Cade chuckles, looking
amused. Abruptly, I want to glare at him. I don't find anything
amusing about this. "Ready when you are."

Pax turns to me, his
emerald eyes dark pools underneath the starlight. For an endless
moment, I'm going up, up, up again. I'm not flying. I'm suspended in
air. My pulse skitters. Something hard and hot unfurls in my belly.
Unable to tear my gaze from him I watch helpless as his mouth drifts
closer, until he's so close his breath mingles with mine.

"Ride me."

Ride him?
My
breath catches in my throat. The rush of blood and alcohol rushing
through my system has hardened into a golf ball in my throat. His
eyes continue to sparkle, and
I'm right
. It's a beacon, and it
pulls the corners of my lips up.

Pax palms my waist, the
barest whisper of a touch. His lips brush my ear. "Hold on
tight," he advises in a low murmur. "It's going to be a
bumpy ride."

I step back, watching
him watch me. Suddenly, the situation I'm in is incredibly funny.
What kind of a friend rips off buttons and tells her "you'll
thank me later"? Who rides a half-naked man in the middle of the
night? Who does it for
money
? I can't contain the sound
gurgling in my throat. Maybe Pax knows what I'm thinking because his
lips quiver, threatening to crack. A silent message passes between
us, like
are we seriously doing this?
And are people actually
paying to see it? Pax's wide shoulders move in a subtle shrug as if
to say
people pay to see worse.

Crazy. Illogical.
Spontaneous.

A whistle blows,
jerking us from our mental conversation. I don't feel as nervous now.
I might have even given the thumbs up sign because the crowd roars,
and Pax's shoulders are shaking from laughter. I feel better. Ref
runs over.