One Last Night (2 page)

Thankfully, all the waiters have vanished for
the moment.

“Why don’t you sit here,” I say, steering her
into an empty chair. “And I’ll find you something.” She’s going to
be pissed when I come back with coffee, but I have to give it a
shot.

Hailey looks around the room, frustration
etched on her face. Her hand darts toward a half-full champagne
glass that’s been left on the table. “No need,” she says, grabbing
it and downing the contents.

“Seriously?”

“It’s fine,” she says, slamming the empty
glass down on the table. “The alcohol sterilizes any of the germs.
Plus, that shit’s expensive—can’t have it go to waste.” A dark look
crosses her face. “I have to pee. Come with me.”

I know where this is going. There have been
other bathrooms in other parties and just the thought of Hailey in
an empty stall makes me twitch. But as much as I’d like to follow
my dick on this one, she promised me that she wouldn’t get trashed
anymore and I have to stick to that. “You go ahead,” I say. “I’ll
be out here.”

Her eyes flash and I can see she’s beyond
reason at this point. “I said come with me.”

“Fine,” I say, knowing that if I don’t, it
could get ugly quick.

She smiles like she does when she gets her
way. Which I have to admit is pretty much all of the time. Saying
no to Hailey never goes over well. Saying no to a drunk Hailey is
guaranteed to cause a scene.

Taking my hand again, she maneuvers us deftly
through the knots of people and down a side hallway toward the
bathrooms. Pushing the ladies’ room door open, she looks around and
then pulls me inside the small room, locking the door behind
us.

“I just want to be alone with you for a
minute,” she says, the familiar whiney edge creeping into her
voice. She stands up on tiptoe and buries her face in my neck. “I
can’t believe you’re really leaving me.”

I can feel my resolve weakening. As much as I
want this shot at Garvin State, it doesn’t erase the guilt I feel
for leaving her behind. I look at the two of us in the mirror—her
image rich and dark, mine blonde and light. We always seemed to
complement each other, but now I’m starting to wonder if we really
go together. “Not forever,” I say, pulling her to me. “I’ll be home
at Thanksgiving.”

“Thanksgiving!” Hailey pulls away to look at
me, tears shining in the corners of her eyes. “That’s three whole
months away. What if you meet somebody else? What if there’s some
little Texas hottie with her cowboy boots and Daisy Dukes shaking
her ass in your face?”

I can feel her ramping up. “That’s not going
to happen,” I say, in the calmest voice I can muster.

Hailey tries to smile, but I see the drunk
desperation in her eyes. She bites her bottom lip and presses her
hand against my crotch, cupping me through the fabric of my jeans.
“But your little Texas hottie won’t know what you like, will she?”
Her fingers creep up and fumble with my belt buckle. “I’m the only
one who knows what you like.”

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to get rid of
the image that’s forming in my head. It’s tempting to give in, to
let her fingers undo my zipper, to let her warm breath surround me.
But I can’t. Not this time. I quickly grab her hand before I can
change my mind. “Come on Hailey. Let’s go back out
there.”

“No!” she says, twisting her arm out of my
grip, her full lips in a pout. She leans into me, pressing her
chest against mine. “What’s the matter? You don’t want me
anymore?”

I grab her shoulders and look into her face.
“Of course I do. You know that.” I take a deep breath, knowing I’m
entering dangerous territory. “But you’ve been drinking a little
bit. And a blowjob in a public bathroom isn’t exactly how I wanted
to spend our last night together.”

“Our
last
night?” she says, her voice
rising. “Why would you say that?”

Shit. “Not our last night forever,” I say
quickly. “Just our last night for now.”

“I know what you meant,” she says, shoving me
away from her with both hands. I see the tears start to form rivers
down her cheeks. “You’re moving on. I knew it.”She tries to jerk
the door open, but it’s locked tight, only fueling the rage that’s
building up inside her. “Fuck!” she screams, pulling at the door
with both hands.

“Hailey, wait!” I say, reaching for
her.

“Get your hands off me,” she says, calming
down enough to flip the lock on the door and fling it
open.

I manage to grab her arm just as she reaches
the hallway where several people are lined up waiting to use the
bathroom. I hope the presence of an audience will calm her down, at
least outwardly so that I can talk some sense into her. “Stop,” I
say, pulling her back.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” she shouts
again as people flatten themselves against the walls in the face of
her rage.

I let her go and hold both hands up. “Come on,
let’s go somewhere and talk about this.”

“Talk about what?” She whirls on me. “How you
don’t even want to
fuck
me anymore?”

I see several girls give each other looks.
Hailey’s already gone and there’s nothing that’s going to fix this
except time. Time to sober up and then call me in tears, asking to
be forgiven for all of the shitty stuff she says to me when she’s
drunk. Not the first time I’ve been down this road and at this
point, the drama is just making me tired. “I’m not going to deal
with this right now,” I say, pushing past her.

“Tyler!” she yells after me. “Where the fuck
are you going?”

But I don’t answer, I don’t engage. Tomorrow
I’m going to get on an airplane and head for a new life—one that I
always thought would have Hailey in it, but now I’m not so sure. I
hear her screaming and cursing behind me, but I don’t even look
back—I just keep walking away.

Jenna’s Last Night

Even before the last notes fade into the
studio walls, I sprawl on the wooden floor and untie the ribbon
that winds around my calf, peeling the toe shoes from each foot and
carefully placing them in my dance bag.

“Good work today Jenna,” Madame says as she
walks by, her steps steady and precise as always.

“Thank you,” I say, secretly pleased she
actually knows my name. It took me almost all of freshman year last
year to make it into her elite dance class and staying here during
the summer means I get to take classes from her where most of the
other dancers at Garvin are off swimming, eating fried catfish and
flying off to Hawaii. I wipe my face with the towel again, enjoying
the last few breaths of cool air from the air conditioner before
braving the inferno outside that is Texas in August. Even with the
window unit firing at full blast, the ancient machine is no match
for the heat outside and the studio is sticky and humid. I pile my
hair on top of my head, securing it with one of the hundreds of
elastic bands floating around in the bottom of my bag, slip my flip
flops on my feet and step out into the blazing afternoon
sun.

No matter what anyone says, you never get used
to this kind of heat, and I feel the sweat roll down my back as I
walk toward the stadium. Football practice should still be going on
and I love to watch Jake work out. Truth be told, I love to watch
Jake do pretty much anything, but seeing him all suited up in his
tight football pants and stained practice jersey does something to
my insides that nothing else can match. All last year I never
missed a football game, sitting under the lights with my friends
and screaming extra loud when Jake took the field, looking strong
and handsome in Garvin State red and white. I can’t wait until this
season starts in just a couple of weeks to do it all over
again.

The campus is mostly deserted this time of
year, with the rattle of cicadas only broken by the scrape of the
occasional skateboard on the sidewalk, in contrast to the thousands
of people who swarm these very same paths when school is in. A
dark-haired guy nods as he passes me on his bike, the recognition
of the group that keeps the campus running while everyone else is
off having fun.

I can hear the coach’s whistle and the grunts
of the guys as the shoulder pads slap together when I approach the
field gate and slip through the opening. Climbing up into the
stands, I pick out a couple of other spectators, mostly player’s
girlfriends like me, as we dot the mostly empty stadium. I grab a
seat just under the announcer’s booth and lean up against the wall,
savoring as much shade as I can find while I scan the field for
Jake, finally spotting him in a group by the ten yard line. With a
shout and a clap, the huddle breaks and the guys kneel down in
front of the quarterback, ready for the snap as he calls out the
count. On his signal, everyone leaps into motion and even from way
up here I can see Jake making a quick turn and racing up the field
ahead of everyone else.

I watch until practice is over, texting Mom to
tell her what time I’m coming home tonight. They hate it when I
make the three hour trip in the dark, but I have to work at the
café until six and I want to leave straight from there. Jake always
takes a quick shower in the locker room, and in no time he’s
bounding up the bleacher steps toward me, acting like he didn’t
even have three hours of practice this morning.

“Hey, baby,” he says, sliding in next to me
and grabbing me around the waist.

“Hey yourself,” I say, grinning as he nuzzles
my neck. I love the solidity of him, the way his body wraps around
mine when we sleep, the possessiveness I know he feels when we’re
together. I waited a long time for the right one to come along and
Jake is every inch of that in one hot package.

“Let’s go,” he says, standing up and putting
out his hand.A true Texas gentleman, Jake is always opening doors
and helping me into the car. Even though Gramps hates the fact that
I’m seeing an actual boy, he grudgingly approves of Jake. Which is
the reason that I didn’t tell them I moved in with him over the
summer—if they found out about that, they’d kill us
both.

The apartment that we sublet is only a few
blocks from the stadium, and neither of us says much on the way
home. I just love to look at Jake with his finely muscled arms,
shaggy blond hair and the clean, sharp smell he always carries. I
lean into him as we walk in the path of the trees that shade the
sidewalk and he puts one strong arm around me. I relax as I match
my pace to his, our feet crunching on the first dry leaves of fall
in silence. Nothing has ever felt this right.

The AC hits us full force as Jake opens the
door to our apartment. Our apartment. It’s still so amazing to be
able to say that. This sublet is only ours until the real renters
come back when school starts, but it’s been fun playing house these
past couple of months. We haven’t talked about what happens then,
but I’m guessing we’ll get a place together, a real place where we
can buy soft cotton sheets for our big, wide, bed and fun plates to
set into the kitchen cupboards. I want to pick out everything
together so that our apartment will be the home that we both want
to come back to at the end of the day. I never thought I’d be ready
to commit to someone so soon—I always said that I didn’t want to be
like Mom with a husband and a baby before she started her sophomore
year, but now I get the appeal. Not that I’m going to run off and
get pregnant anytime soon. I’ve got a lot to do before that
happens.

I can’t help but think about it though, as
Jake tosses his duffle bag on the floor and opens the fridge to
find something to eat, shaking his ass to some kind of rhythm
that’s only in his head. Any baby I had with Jake would be
beautiful and smart and definitely athletic. Some days I can
picture us with a place somewhere, three or four little blond
babies running around the house, Jake riding a tractor through the
field beyond the yard.

“What are you thinking about?” Jake says with
a grin as he pulls out the makings of a sandwich.

“Nothing,” I say, hoping that it doesn’t show
on my face. I pretend to check my messages and then put my phone
down on the counter.

Jake’s phone buzzes and he glances at it, but
then shuts it off. Between his big family and the guys on the team
he must get a hundred texts a day.

“Who was that?”

“Mom,” he says. “She’s been on me about my
classes for next semester. I can’t deal with it right now.”He opens
a head of lettuce. “Can I make you something to eat?”

“No, thanks” I say. “I’m going to grab
something at work before I hit the road.”

Jake makes an exaggerated pout and crosses the
room, grabbing me roughly around the waist and pulling me to him.
“I can’t believe you’re going away all weekend.”

“I know,” I say, tracing the outline of his
chest through his shirt. I’ve gone home half a dozen times this
summer, but it’s always hard to leave. “I’m going to miss
you.”

“I’m going to miss you more.”

In one quick motion he lifts me up onto the
counter so that we’re eye to eye. I wrap my legs around his waist
and press into him, feeling the bulge in his pants growing. I love
that I still have that kind of power over him.

“How about we forget the food,” he says,
grinding against me, running one hand up my thigh. “And go for
something quick.”