Vérité (5 page)

As for study hour, I continued to arrive late, always grabbing a seat in the front row, and jumping out of my seat five minutes early. This wasn’t my first rodeo, so I knew all I needed was to be there for seventy-five percent of the hour for the proctor to mark me present. Plus, my running times were improving, and Coach Wallace was pleased with my effort. Mostly, the coaches just wanted me to run and didn’t want to deal with me, unless they absolutely had to.

For the most part, I was still a social misfit, which was why I couldn’t believe where I was and how I was spending my last weekend before classes officially started. Shockingly, I found myself at some football soirée on Friday night. We were in the middle of the woods in a shelter that had been decorated with twinkly lights by the cheerleaders, and music pumped from large speakers on either side of the pavilion.

This was no average college kegger—there was a full bar on one side of the shelter and the obligatory row of kegs on the other. The field was lit by floodlights affixed to the top of several enormous SUVs that belonged to the football players.

It was all Ginny’s fault; she had dragged me to the event. Her being here was as equally shocking as my presence, but apparently Bryce asked her to come, and she needed a crutch.

“Please, Ting, pretty please,” she’d begged. “I can’t go alone. I’m not even sure I’ll have anyone to talk to, and you’re so calm and cool. I’ll need that.”

So there I was, the wingman, except I wasn’t doing a very good job. I was sitting on the back bumper of a truck, kicking at the dirt with my flip-flops, staring at my ugly runner’s feet and sipping on a vodka and tonic with lime while Ginny was tucked in a corner attempting to flirt with Bryce.

“Sinister Kid” by the Black Keys played in the background as the alcohol went straight to my head. I bobbed my head to the music, shutting my eyes and feeling the beat, since there was no one to really talk to here for me. What could I possibly say?
Hi! I’m back, and this year, I’m going to be a normal coed, sleep with you guys, and get drunk any chance I can between winning heats.

The humid air was thick as it swam around my bare arms and legs. I was in a tight white tank and another pair of ripped jean shorts, my ID and key shoved into the back pocket. Despite wearing almost nothing, I was warm, but that could have been the alcohol too.

I was no stranger to being buzzed; it was how I’d survived high school. Back then, I relied on my parents’ well-stocked liquor cabinet to keep me numb, and it never disappointed. But the sensation didn’t feel right at that moment. I was over-trained, my body a slave to my workouts. It craved fuel, not alcohol, and the liquid courage only deepened my current melancholy.

The bumper I was leaning against dipped, startling me, and even though my eyes were still closed, I knew who was there. Tiberius’s scent overwhelmed my senses, despite the fact that we were outside in a meadow of overgrown grass and surrounded by lush trees.

“Hey, T. Mind if I sit?”

Opening my eyes to slant him a glance, I said, “Looks like you already are. Why are you calling me T?”

He cleared his throat. “Well, it seemed like you really didn’t like your name. And then I went and fucked up, made fun of it, so I came up with a nickname. Does ‘T’
bother you too?” He faced me but I refused to turn my head, staring straight ahead into the dark woods.

“It’s not very original,” I said with a shrug.

He leaned forward, trying to catch my gaze. “I guess I’m just not creative.”

I noticed his long legs stretched out next to mine. They went on for miles; it was surprising he could even get low enough to sit next to me.

“Seems that way,” I said, holding on to my bitchiness.

His muscular thighs bulged in his frayed jeans, fascinating me; I could sense the power strumming through his quads. The tight gray T-shirt he was wearing tonight allowed me to make out the sculpted planes of his chest. My hand itched to touch, but I refused to give in to purely physical impulses these days.

“Well, what would you suggest I call you? Other than
not
call you,” he said, his voice tight as he slung my shit back at me.

I finally turned to face him, eyeing his beautiful features. “Let’s see, my friends call me Ting, but you’re not a friend. My professors call me Ms. Simmons to avoid any confusion or misperceptions because, well, you already know, I fucked their colleague. And he called me Tigger. So it doesn’t leave a lot of room for anything else.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Although, I just changed my mind about T. I think T-Rex would be better, because you sure are a man-eater,
Tingly
.” His body tense, he stood up to leave.

Some sugary pop tune by Maroon Five started to play, and inexplicably, my actions caught up with me. I realized I wanted him to stay, to sit back down, to say something sweet and seductive to me in his rich baritone.

Before I could stop myself, I grabbed his hand as he turned and said, “Tiberius?”

“Yeah?” he said, frowning down at me, and I dropped his hand.

“Look, I’m sorry. Really, I am. I know I’ve been quite the mega-bitch to you, but I’ve spent the better part of this last year alone, only relying on myself, and I was already a bit of a recluse. I’m not good with people, and I have no idea why you’d want to be my friend. Or why you’re even here.” I hopped off the tailgate and picked up my empty cup, gripping it tightly enough for the thin plastic to pop in my hand.

We stood facing each other, an unlikely pair. He was so tall, my face was level with his rib cage. Rather than look him in the eye, I stared at his chest, watching the even rise and fall of his lungs.

“Tingly, I don’t know too many people here other than the team. I like them, but they’re all fast-and-wild partiers, and I’m . . . well, I’m not. I gotta go to parties, socialize, be a part of the whole scene, but that’s it for me. Some good tunes, a beer or two, my feet moving to the vibe, for me that’s a good time.”

As he took a deep breath, I studied the letters on his T-shirt, watching the rise and fall of his chest so I wouldn’t get lost in the treacherous sea of his eyes.

“To be honest,” he said in a low voice, “I saw you outside the dining hall that first night we met. Then when I realized we had study hour together, I was pumped. I thought you were a freshman, and you took my breath away. Not only were you stunning, but I saw the way you consoled your friend in the courtyard. Don’t panic or any shit like that; I’m not some crazy stalker. I just liked the way you looked and acted, that’s all. After chatting with you for a quick second, I decided I’d never met someone tough and sweet like you. Yeah, I was turned on, but also interested or something like that. Where I come from, people are either tough or nice, but not both.”

“Seems to me that you’re both,” I interjected, my kind words coming out of left field. I bit my tongue, silencing myself, and continued to listen quietly, finally raising my gaze to meet his.

“I wanted to get to know you, but I was nervous and made a stupid joke about your name.” Taking a deep breath, he seemed to gather his courage. “Look, I’m just a dude from the streets with a bad Jersey accent and a pretty good jump shot. I get where you’re at . . . you don’t want any part of a brother like me. But that’s not me. I’m not just some guy who plays ball. I’m a decent person.”

Looking up into his pale blue eyes, so amazing with their openness and vulnerability, I felt my protective barrier shift. His warmth chipped away at my outer layer of ice, melting it away as I admitted, “I was just being overly sensitive about my name.”

“Either way,” he said, “I don’t know anything ’bout your past, and quite frankly, I don’t care now that you told me. We all got secrets and history, so you’re not scaring me off with your sordid shit. But I get you don’t want anything to do with the likes of me, all young and ghetto, but I’m twenty and probably seen more than you ever did.”

“It’s not that,” I started to say when Tiberius clapped a big hand on my shoulder and said, “See ya ’round, Rex.”

And then he walked away, just left me there standing alone in the field. No games, no second chances, nada.

Is that the way this works?
I didn’t know, because I’d never really done it before.

“Wait! Tiberius,” I called out much louder than I meant to, drawing unwanted attention toward me. Christ, I was making a scene when all I wanted was to fade into the background.

He paused at the tree line and looked back at me with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Are you walking back to campus?”

“Yeah,” was all he said. Apparently, he wasn’t going to make this easy.

“Can I go with you?”

He only nodded, which irritated me. We were having this full-on public display, putting on a damn show for everyone there, and he couldn’t even give me words.

“Can you give me one sec to check on my roommate?”

“Hop to it, Rex,” he said, then leaned up against a nearby tree to wait for me.

I ran over to Ginny, who was swaying slowly to the music in the circle of Bryce’s enormous arms, but she stilled when she noticed me next to them. Whispering in her ear, I asked if she was okay for me to leave her there, and she nodded. When she asked if I had someone to walk me to the dorm, I nodded back and murmured my good-byes.

When I made it back to Tiberius, I simply said, “Ready.” We walked in silence away from the clearing, making our way through the tall bushes and trees back to civilization.

“I’m sorry. Honestly, I am,” I said to break the ice, both literally and figuratively.

“It’s cool,” he said with a shrug. “So, you’re what? A junior?”

“Well, I should be, but I’m three credits shy. After this semester, I will be, but I’ve got three more years of eligibility on the team . . . if I want that. I’m ready to get out in the real world, though, do what I want and all that. Just turned the big two-one in June. My parents kept me back from kindergarten until I was six and a half. All part of their perfect-princess campaign,” I admitted.

Holding back a branch for me, he offered, “I turn twenty-one in March.”

“I guess I’m not that much older,” I said, and bumped my shoulder companionably against his arm as we headed toward campus.

When we stepped onto the road outside the Ag complex, I asked, “So, what’s your deal, Tiberius? And does everyone call you that mouthful of a name?”

He laughed, and the warmth of it coated my chilled skin, wrapping me in a blanket of Tiberius. It soothed my exposed feelings, now that two or three layers of ice had been melted away.

“Well, Rex, my full name is Tiberius Jones, but my friends call me Ty, so it looks like we do have something in common.” He winked.

I tried not to melt, but I was turning into one of
those
girls . . . a jock groupie. I tried to hold back my smile, but felt my grin grow wide for the first time in a long time, since the day Pierre first approached me in an unprofessional way. But this was different. This wasn’t about being wanted physically or lusted after by an older man. It was about laughing and camaraderie, something I’d never really experienced with a man or a boy.

Campus came into view. The dorm windows glowed brightly but the lecture halls were dark, and the faux gas lantern streetlights illuminated our way as Tiberius answered my questions.

“I’m from Jersey City, right outside New York City. It was just my mom and me in a one-bedroom apartment, but she did good by me. I went to school, played ball, stayed outta trouble so she could work. Graduated two years ago and went to prep school for a year in West Virginia. They polished up my basketball skills and my math, shit like that. And now I’m here on a full athletic ride, so I guess that makes me one lucky man.”

“Wow. That’s pretty amazing, if you ask me,” I replied. Tiberius was such a good guy with his head on straight, I still didn’t understand what the hell he wanted with a tainted slut like me.

He shrugged. “I don’t know about amazing. When I got to be a teen, my momma told me, ‘Tiberius, be extra-ordinary. I don’t mean extraordinary, I mean to go out of your way to always be ordinary in life. No need to drive one of those million-dollar cars or think your shit don’t stink.’” He chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “She knew I was good at ball. Good enough that maybe I’d make a career of it one day, at least get into school for it and make a better life with a degree. She never wanted me to get full of myself because of it, though.”

I let his words sink in and float through my brain. “Extra-ordinary sounds nice. Where I come from is the land of extraordinary where everyone’s shit stinks like Chanel No. 5.”

“There’s got to be more than that. You’re here doing your own ordinary thing. What about you?” Tiberius studied me as we stopped at the corner, waiting for the light to change. The air was muggy and still, the temperature clearly not the reason why my arms just broke out in goose pimples.

“La La Land born and bred—”

“What did you just say?” he interrupted.

“La La Land. You know, Los Angeles. The land of make-believe and silicone lips.”

He stopped walking and drew his brows together as he brought the tip of his finger to my lips. Sparks fizzled between his warm touch and my chapped lips.

“Are these fake?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but laugh out a
no
, and it came out all breathy rather than giggly.

He started walking again, his hip brushing my side as he weaved around a large bush, and said, “You were saying? La La Land.”

“Well, I was born in the heart of Beverly Hills, brought up with a silver spoon in my mouth. The perfect baby for the perfect couple who had trouble getting knocked up, but could afford the best fertility treatments money could buy. I was a little pink bundle of joy with my future all laid out for me when I was little more than a few chromosomes in a petri dish. Except I liked to run and wear cut-off jean shorts instead of ball gowns. I got here on my own too, and then I almost threw it all away.”

That was all I was willing to risk saying. If I really wanted to get rid of Tiberius, I would tell him the whole truth, but some nagging feeling wouldn’t let me do it.