Vérité (8 page)

I was slapping on a little makeup, just lip gloss and mascara, when my phone dinged with a text.

UNKNOWN
NUMBER
: Hey, stranger! You going to the athletes’ bash tonight at Commons?

ME
: Who is this?

I don’t know why I even replied. I should have just deleted the text and gone about my business, but curiosity killed the cat.

UNKNOWN NUMBER
: Ty. You should be careful who your basketball roommates give your number to.

What? I didn’t even think they knew my full name, let alone had my number.

ME
: Well, when I see them, I’ll let them know.

TIBERIUS
: So, you going?

ME
: Unfortunately.

TIBERIUS
: Me too. Apparently a requirement of the team. Unofficially, of course.

ME
: Well, I’m sure your crew will have fun. I’m going for a bit with my roommate and leaving early.

TIBERIUS
: Maybe you’ll need someone to walk you home?

ME
: Doubtful.

He didn’t respond, but why should he? My schizophrenic emotional display over the last two weeks was enough to make anyone crazy. If he were smart, he’d leave me alone.

I wish I could leave
him
alone.

Unfortunately for me, Tiberius was standing right by the door when Ginny and I walked into the party, our eyes meeting the instant I crossed the threshold. Surveying the scene, I was secretly happy he was there. The room was thumping with the beat radiating from speakers at both ends of the apartment. I caught a peek of his teammate—the bald one,
Jamel?
—behind a makeshift DJ table, big cans on his ears, his head bouncing to the beat, and feet shuffling underneath the table. Rap was blaring, the place reeked of pot and beer, and I felt totally out of my element, even though I’d been at college for two years.

Glancing around, I noticed the dozens of already inebriated willing-and-able girls slurring the lyrics to the song and dancing around the apartment. They belonged here, not me.

I started to walk forward, a little hesitant to move since I wanted nothing more than to turn around and march right out of there. Two adorable little tennis girls hanging near Tiberius drew my attention. They were practically eye-fucking him and drooling over his biceps—literally, because that’s where they were eye level with his body. He was paying them no mind, chatting and laughing with one of the other guys from that awful morning. One who had thankfully remained quiet.

Tiberius was clearly not in a hurry to approach me, and I didn’t blame him after my text. On the other hand, I was desperate to see him. His large frame and protective nature called to me, drawing me to him, but I resisted.

Knowing I either needed some liquid courage or something to numb the jealous pang forming in my gut, I decided to grab a beer. As I headed toward the kitchen, one of the wide receivers went streaking through the hallway, his bits and pieces flapping in the air for everyone to see. I tried to step out of his way but my reflexes weren’t on top of their game, and just as I turned, Mr. Cock-and-Balls collided with me head-on. In all his naked glory, he went falling on top of me, toppling both of us onto the floor. We landed in a crumpled heap, my head in his crotch.

“Oh shit!” he yelled over the music.

Mortified, I pushed up and away from the dick in my face, propping all my weight onto one hand on the floor as I ran the other across my face, trying not to puke as I checked for errant pubic hairs. There was clapping and cheering and lots of “Oh my Gods” punctuated with shrill whistles being repeated all around us, all while the music still raged, vibrating the room with the bass beat.

Mindful of how bad this looked, I held my hand over my face, expecting at any moment for someone to snap a picture. That would make my humiliation complete, and would transform this incident from a horrible memory to something that lived forever on the Internet.

“You okay?” the naked idiot next to me asked just as I felt hands slip under my arms, lifting me away from the fiasco.

Ginny was saying something like, “You okay, Ting? Ting?” but I couldn’t fully hear her because there was another voice swimming in my ear.

“Christ, Rex, you okay? I’m gonna take you out of here,” came out all breathless from behind me as I was pushed from behind toward the exit.

I wriggled against his grip a little, wanting to walk out on my own, but he wouldn’t let up on his hold around my shoulders.

“I’m fine, Tiberius. Let go,” I huffed out.

Ignoring me, he just kept walking and threw a peace sign up in the air for our audience as we left the apartment.

“Please, let go. I’m embarrassed enough as it is,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Tingly, wait!” Ginny called after me, running up and grabbing me from behind.

“Please, Gin, let go,” I said as tears burned my eyes.

She released me and I turned to face her, mentally ordering my eyes to stay dry.

“I’m good.” I stood stock-still, worried that any movement might set off the emotions racking through my body.

“Sure? Where are you going? And who’s this?” she demanded.

“Hey, I’m Tiberius,” he answered for me. “Rex and I got study hour together.”

“Rex?” she said, looking up at him with her freckled brow all scrunched up in confusion.

“Yeah, Rex. This one is a real tough one, you know what I mean. A carnivore. Almost ate me alive a few times,” he joked, tilting his head toward me.

As for me, I was as stiff as a statue, afraid to even move a muscle in my jaw.

“Well, I don’t know you,” she told him sternly, then turned to me. “You okay with going with him, Ting?”

Clearing my throat, I said, “Uh-huh. This is Tiberius, my
freshman
friend from study hour.” I don’t know why I added that—probably more for myself than anyone else—a healthy reminder of our boundaries.
As if those ever stopped me in the past.

“That’s me, her freshman friend
.
Come on, Rex.” He threw his arm around my shoulders again and guided me toward the elevator, the music becoming fainter with each step.

Uncomfortable silence while waiting outside elevators was becoming a theme of ours. I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. I’d thrown myself at him a few nights before, and he’d walked away. He needed it to mean something, and I demanded it mean nothing, although I was starting to suspect that was a lie.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” he finally asked, breaking the ice.

“Just mortified,” I answered honestly.

“No one will even remember tomorrow.”

The bell dinged. We moved into opposite sides of the car, and the doors slid shut. Tiberius reached out to press the button for the lobby, but instead pulled the stop.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my thoughts wild.

He stepped toward me until his body was flush against mine, my back now melded to the wall, and he kissed me. His lips landed on mine without any further notice. They were soft to the touch but rough in their pursuit. The kiss was bruising and punishing, heavy with weeks’ worth of longing. When you’re our age, fantasizing for weeks is like wanting something for years.

“You sure you’re okay?” he said into my mouth.

I nodded.

“We should have gone to eat instead of this party. How many times are you going to make me ask? How many weeks do I gotta wait?”

“I’ve never done that stuff before.”

“What? Eat?”

A giggle bubbled up in my throat, and his lips came back to mine.

His hardness pressed against my abdomen, and I tried to rub myself up against him like a dog in heat. In response, he pulled his hips back a bit, denying me any further friction. He was sending a silent, but serious message that this was more than a quickie in the elevator.

I opened my mouth to protest and he slipped his tongue inside, curling it with mine, and I realized he was right. When I slowed my hormones and actually let myself be in the moment with Tiberius, my body flooded with unfamiliar feelings. Not just want or desire, but something else. Affection of some sort, and I wanted to feel it deeper, not simply to get off, but to embrace what was happening between us.

Desperately trying to get him back closer, I wriggled while my arms made a futile attempt to pull him close again. But he was too big, too determined to stay in control, and too headstrong. His hands gathered mine and stretched my arms above my head, securing me, then he pressed a gentle closed-mouth kiss to my lips. There was no tongue and no grinding, yet it was the most sensual kiss I’d ever experienced.

His lips broke free from mine before he whispered, “This means something, T. I’m not having a quick fuck in an elevator.”

I shook my head. Dazed, I glanced at the aluminum wall across from me, catching my reflection, and saw myself for who I truly was: a disheveled, desperate coed. I continued to shake my head, unsure if I wanted to knock some sense into my brain, rid myself of the nasty image I’d seen, or both.

“Yeah, it does, babe,” he whispered, then ran his lips over my cheek and down my neck before his tongue traced a trail over my clavicle. “It does,” he repeated and dropped my arms. He released me and walked over toward the wall and pushed the stop button, the elevator jerking to move again.

The second the elevator doors opened enough, I slipped through them and ran, picking up my pace as I barreled through the exit and out to the street. It didn’t matter that I was wearing sandals rather than running shoes, I went as fast as I could, ignoring the pieces of gravel that flew up, cutting my feet.

“Tingly, don’t run,” Tiberius said as he caught up with me, easily keeping pace next to me. Even with my speed and endurance, I was no match for him.

“Let me do what I want,” I tossed back at him.

“No.”

“Why?” It came out breathless, but I wasn’t winded.

He swerved closer and caught me in his arms, stopping my forward motion. As if I weighed nothing, he lifted me and stood me on top of his feet so we were closer to eye level.

“Because two people don’t kiss like that and it not mean shit,” he spat at me, keeping me in his grip.

A little crowd of onlookers gathered to watch us—the jilted coed and her new beau. Annoyed at their interest, I realized they probably saw mostly our differences, both in race and perceived age, since Tiberius was a freshman and me a supposed junior.

But to me, I’d always just be the girl no one wanted. Not her parents, the nice boy next door, or her French professor. Nobody. Certainly not the basketball stud with the body of a god and a heart of gold. Yet I kept acting like all I wanted from him was his dick.

“Let me go. I can’t do this,” I said, and pulled free and ran.

This time, he didn’t chase me.

M
y class load turned out to be grueling, but lucky me, study hour changed to being mandatory only twice a week. With a buffet of sessions we could choose from, I took a lucky guess that Tiberius wouldn’t attend the early morning one, so I went to it religiously. Willing to sacrifice a shower after practice two mornings a week was a small price to pay to avoid Tiberius and discussing my feelings with him.

Between preparing for an upcoming meet and taking fifteen credits, I was busy enough to avoid most parties and anything other than a quick dinner with Ginny. Truth be told, I was doing well; I had my shit together. I was even back to taking French, but this time with a female professor. This was a good thing since I actually was still a foreign language major. I was fluent in French, Italian, and Latin.

Originally, my choice of major was a great big fuck-you to my parents. Picking a career outside their longtime expectations was my second step in breaking free. The first was when I’d been awarded an athletic scholarship to a school in a place so opposite from home, they’d never wanted to visit.

The real clincher was when I withdrew my entire trust fund left to me by my grandparents, the one they were dying to get their hands on. I moved the funds to a new bank and selected a new financial advisor, changed my cellular number, and packed all my shit without ever looking back. They didn’t need the money; they just craved the control. Of course, they got my new number, but rarely used it unless it was to discuss money . . . or control.

I’d barely touched the money since moving it. To cover most of my expenses, I took a small stipend from the interest; the rest was covered by my scholarship, even when I redshirted. So I was in good shape financially, but always looking for something to fill the gap.

Which was why I was standing in front of the bulletin board in the Union, pulling a paper tab for a part-time tutoring job in Italian, when someone came up from behind me. I felt a little tap on my shoulder and turned to find a very large basketball player still wearing his practice jersey. A sheen of sweat covered his brow as his dark eyes assessed me.

I didn’t know his name, but this was the one who’d been laughing at the party with Tiberius, the friendly guy with the braids, which were now pulled up in a ponytail.