Taboo (12 page)

Chapter 22

“You need somewhere to sit?”

The
campus café is packed and I’m standing in the middle of the room holding my tray. I must have passed Carter three times, not even realizing he was there.

“Yes!” He takes my tray and I hang my backpack from the chair. “Thank you. I thought I was going to have to eat on the floor or something.”

“You looked a little lost.”

“And you came
to my rescue. Typical,” I laugh, picking up my sandwich.

“What do you mean?”

My face heats and I wrinkle my nose.

“What?” he asks again.

“Remember how Finley and I used to call you Aqua-Man?” I don’t know why I’m so embarrassed about this. “He’s a superhero. And you rescued me.”

“Aqua-Man wears green tights.”

“All superheroes wear tights.”

He makes a face and says, “But his are green.”

“He has to blend in!”

Carter leans back in his seat, arms crossed. I try to keep my eyes off his forearms but it’s impossible. “He’s like the lamest of all the superheroes.”

“Not true.” I argue, but he’s smiling anyway. He loves it.

“So you guys talked about me, huh?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course. What else did we have to do all day?” He raises an eyebrow and my blush rushes back. “Beside that.”

That’s as close as we get to
reliving our past, and together we veer the conversation to more current ideas. He tells me that he’s moving out of the frat house next year, it’s just not really his thing. I talk about my schedule and what courses I’ll study in the fall. I breathe a sigh of relief when he tells me he’s still not dating anyone and I look at my hands when I tell him, briefly, about my series of unfortunate first and last dates. I don’t want to see his reaction. I’m not ready for that. Slowly, over several meet-ups like this, we forge a tentative, yet pleasant friendship.

We hang out the most over morning coffee, when he’s damp and fresh from the pool. The chlorine from the indoor pool is severe and even after a shower I can smell it on his skin. Today,
I’m running late and he greets me out front with my favorite coffee.

“Thank you,” I say, taking a sip. “The girls had a big Mothers
’ Day surprise for Betsy and I lost track of time.”

“I bet they’ve grown a lot since I saw them last.”

“Haven’t we all,” I muse.

We sit on a bench outside the shop and the spring sunlight makes his hair glow.
He cuts it shorter now than at the end of last summer but it still casts him in a halo’s light.

“I wanted to ask you something,” he says, placing his coffee between his knees.

“Sure.”

“I’m in this int
ramural soccer tournament this weekend and I wanted to know if you would come.”

“Really?”
I’ve always wanted to see him play. I’ve watched him swim competitively but I never got the chance to see him on the soccer field.

“I know you like the game and it should be fun.
”

“Can I bring Finley?”

His eyes light up. “Yeah, sure. So you’ll come?”

“Of course.
It sounds awesome. Plus, you know how I feel about soccer players.”

He fr
owns. “Actually, I don’t.”

“They’re my second favorite
, after swimmers.”

He laughs and grabs me b
y the neck, in a playful hug. “You’re crazy, did you know that?”

“I think I’ve heard that somewhere before.”

*

“Oh man.”

“I know.”

“Do you see the calves on that one?”

“No, I can’t take my eyes off that guy’s butt.”

“And his chest.”

“Oh shit.”

“What?”

“His back.”

“Where?”

I point across the field to number seventeen.

“Damn, you can even see the muscles through his shirt—I mean, that’s just not normal.”

“It’s not.”

“No. It’s not. It’s almost like he’s—“

“Genetically superior,” Finley and I say at the same time.

We’ve come full circle, except this time we’re sitting on the top row of a set of bleachers, fully clothed and ogling a soccer field instead of the swimming pool. It is hot though, and the sun beats down hard enough that we’ve pulled out our trusty sunglasses and I’ve stripped down to a tank top.

“He’s pretty amazing,” I say, watching him run up an
d down the field. I knew he would be good, he’s good at everything, but watching him dominate is like poetry.

“It’s not fair,” Finley points out.
“For one person to be so talented.”

“And hot.”

“And hot, right,” she agrees.

It’s an intense match
. The guys are brutal with one another, forcing the ref to stop the game more than once. Carter takes more than one spill. From the stands I can see the blood dripping from his knee. It doesn’t stop him—nothing does. He’s all physical and I realize this is why it’s hard to just be friends with him. His body and mind work together.

It’s hard, but we’ve made it happen.

From his position at forward, I get the chance to see him race down the field, top speed. He scores twice, pumping his fist and checking for me in the stands. I wave to let him know I saw. And a couple of girls around me look in my direction.

I’m not used to the attention of being associated with him, so I just keep my eyes on the field.

The guys are fun and less obnoxious than I thought they’d be. It’s obvious he’s well loved by his teammates, who rush one another in silly, testosterone-fueled hugs when one of them makes a goal.

It ventures to an almost homoerotic place once the game is over and they’ve won.

“Wow,” Finley says, and I sigh in agreement. They’ve all taken off their shirts and it’s quite a sight. Carter uses his jersey to wipe the blood off his knees. I would have thought it impossible but nineteen has been good for him. Good for his body. He’s taller and sleeker, making his muscles more pronounced. When he looks in my direction, I turn away because I don’t think about him like that anymore.

I don’t.

Finley grows quiet and I look over and her eyes are shut.

“What are you doing?”

“Just committing all of this to memory.”

“Um…why?”

“For later. Ryan won’t know what hit him.” She opens one eye and takes a peek at Carter walking across the field. “Yep, it’s going to be epic. I may finally get that diamond out of this one.”

“Gross,” I laugh and push her on her shoulder. We climb down the bleachers and wait among the other spectators for the team to leave the fiel
d. I whisper to Finley, “I think most of these are girlfriends or something.”

“And friends,” she says pointedly. “Because why would Carter invite you to something only girlfriends go to.”

“Shut up,” I say. I hold up my jacket. “I’m going to go put this in the car, okay.” I don’t admit I have a bottle of Gatorade in there for Carter, too.

I’
m locking up my car when I overhear two girls going to the vehicle next to mine. It’s a convertible, with the top down.

“Damn he’s hot.”

“I know. Too bad he’s a lost cause.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nancy thinks he’s gay.”

“He’s not gay. He had sex with Sarah after the fall formal. And Cathy said she
fooled around with him after one of the football games.”

“
That was months ago. Mitch said he’s been celibate or something for months.”

“Mark thinks anyone who’s not humping like a rabbit is celibate.”

“No really,” the girl says with a laugh. “Something happened a couple months ago and he just lost all interest in girls.”

“Maybe he has a secret girlfriend.”

“Or boyfriend.” They both giggle.

“Whatever it is, it’s too bad. He’s incredible.”

“Sarah said he’s good, too. Like really good.”

“Damn.”

They start the car and pull away without a glance in my direction. Why should they? I probably look like someone’s mom out here. I walk back to the field. Obviously, they were talking about Carter. Who else could it be? And the no sex thing? I think back knowing good and well that it lines up to when we started seeing one another again.

I push all this to the back of my mind
, because he and Finley are walking toward me. His cleats swing from his finger tips and he’s still not wearing a shirt and God, it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen his body. I fight the natural reaction I have, which is to jump him right here.

Why does he do this to me?

“Great game.” I give him the bottle of Gatorade and a hug. He smells like grass and sweat.

“Thanks,” he says. “They were pretty tough.”

“Yeah, sure. You guys killed it.”

A group of guys from the team start piling in a couple cars and Carter nods in their direction.
A couple of them check us out. “We’re going back to shower and then going to O’Riley’s. Can you come?”

“I’ve g
ot plans with Ryan tonight,” Finley says, winking. I roll my eyes. “But thanks for asking.”

“Ruthie?”

“Ehhh…” I hedge, I look at Finley for help but she’s suddenly very interested in her nails.

“Please?”

Like I can say no to that. I’m already half dazed by his chest and the testosterone wafting off his body and the stuff the girls said by the car. “Okay, I’ll come. But I’m not buying you beer or anything.”

“Like I need an ID to get beer,” he says, giving me a seductive face that probably works on e
very barmaid in town. “Meet me there at nine.”

“Okay,” I say watching him head toward the other guys.

“Don’t back out,” he calls.

“I won’t.”

Finley and I hop in my car and she says, “You think this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” I say, turning the key. “I think it’s the dumbest idea ever.”

*

I wait until nine-thirty to go to the bar. Not because I’m avoiding anything but sitting around a bunch of college kids would be bad enough but sitting alone is definitely be worse. I’m hoping he’ll get there before me.

He’s doesn’t
, but a couple of the guys from his team are squeezed into a booth and they recognize me. “Ruthie, right?” one calls to me over the music. I smile and he waves me over.  “I’m Mitch, Carter’s roommate.”

Mitch—the one who thinks Carter is celibate.

I sit at the table and they pour me a beer from their pitcher. Mitch, Andrew, Caleb…and a couple of others. I don’t catch their names. “He’ll be here in a minute,” Mitch said. “He told us to look out for you.”

“Great game,” I tell them
and this leads them into reenactments and play-by-plays. I don’t mind because at least I can follow the conversation.

“How do you know Carter?” Andrew—no Caleb asks, after they run out of stories.

“Um…,” I falter. I’ve never had to answer that question—no one ever knew about us. Not that we’re an ‘us’.

“We worked together last year,” Carter says, nudging me with his hip and I slide further into the booth. “Ruthie’s in grad school.
Physical therapy.”

“Right.”

“Sure.”

“Uh huh,” they all mumble, reconciling my presence at t
he school, in Carter’s life and why I’m invited to this table.

“Whatever,” Mitch says. “I think she’s your good luck charm.
” He turns and smiles at me. “Now you’ll have to come to all the games next season.”

Carter and I are
pressed in close, closer than we’ve been in a long, long time. He smells so clean and delicious, I feel a little light headed. Being friends with Carter is hard. I just have to remind myself he’s worth it.

“I’m going to get us another pitcher,” Carter says, leaving me alone with the guys again. Thankfully, the rest follow him out of the booth to go shoot pool.
Everyone but Mitch.

We sit in awkward silence until he says,
“It all makes sense now.”

I tilt my head. “What makes sense?”

“Carter. It’s like all the pieces of the Carter Hightower puzzle fell into place.”

I search across the bar until I find him, speaking to the bartender. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue T-shirt, his favorite color. The shirt stretches just right over his shoulder
s and he looks over and gives me a quick smile.

“What pieces?” I ask.

“Half the fraternity thinks he’s gay. The other half is convinced he’s Batman or something. He’s quiet and keeps to himself a lot of the time, but when he shows up he pretty much owns the room. If he was more into it, he’d be pledge president for sure.”