Page 53 of Notorious Man on Campus

“Coach is going to be ballistic,” Roman says.

“I’m more worried about Dean Lassiter,” Dylan says. “He takes this shit seriously. If you don’t go along with Willow’s charade, what will she post next? She could get you in a fuck-load of trouble right now even if it’s all made up and you win in the end. It could derail the season in the meantime.”

“Don’t worry.” I’m surprised and not surprised that my friends are worked up. Maybe their concern is what allows me to keep calm in spite of Willow’s seeming craziness. I wonder if she’s the one who sent coach that ping this afternoon, making sure he got the message about our Homecoming date. Because I have a feeling she’s more calculating than crazy and this is still about vengeance more than needing me for a homecoming date to solidify her position as queen of the sorority.

“I better get on the phone and call her now. Homecoming is only two days away. Guess I can be notorious for calling a girl at the last minute for a date instead of not dating at all.” No laughs, not even a snicker in the group. I look at each and every person in the room as they nod somberly. “Guys, it’s not as if I’m going to the gallows. I’m going to a fucking homecoming party with a hot chick. I can handle it.” Roman laughs and the mood finally loosens. Dylan smiles. It’s a tight smile, but it’s better than his funeral frown.

My eyes slide to Nyla’s. She nods, still looking fierce, like she wants to strangle someone, probably Willow, although it could be me. Fifty-fifty. I maintain my control, the even hum of my heartbeat a miraculous feat of Zen though I have no clue about practicing Zen. I chalk it up to my natural tendency to stay calm in the middle of chaos, like we’re in a huddle in a close game and everyone’s nerves are on edge but mine.

The only blip of uneasiness I feel about taking Willow to the Homecoming party is that sliver of betrayal to Nyla. It makes no sense. It’s completely irrational. It’s not like I ever said I’d take Nyla to homecoming, made no promises of any kind. You stole her fucking virginity.

There’s that, but the feeling of betrayal goes beyond that one night and I can’t explain it to myself, can’t figure it out and no matter how much I try to will the feeling away, no matter how much I avoid her, I can’t shake it. Maybe avoiding her has made it worse.

Chapter 23

Nyla

Sitting in the back row of Ethics class, my chest tightens as I watch Willow ask Roman to move over so she can sit next to Brick. They’re a few rows ahead of me, but the searing tension coming from Brick reaches me and I wonder if everyone in the large classroom can feel it.

Homecoming is tomorrow and I squirm in my seat, clenching my fist with the need to do something. I can’t let Willow get away with her charade. I can’t let Brick get away with his charade either. Even though we have a truce of sorts between us, he still pretends we’re no more than acquaintances. And I know better.

When Professor Oliver ends the class, I’m surprised and looking down at my notebook. My blank notebook. I’ve been strangling my pen for an hour without writing a single thing. Shit.

“Don’t forget to submit your presentation topics by the end of the day and good luck tomorrow to the SPU Wildbeasts.” He smiles and nods directly at Brick. “Not that you’ll need it.” Willow bounces in her seat and jumps up like she’s gong to break out into a yay-ra-ra cheer and she’s not even a cheerleader. Brick ducks his head and takes his time putting his tablet into his backpack.

Not about to make things any more awkward for him than necessary, I grab my things and shove them into my bag hastily and hurry from the room. Checking my phone, I have time and steel my bubbling nerves to do the one thing I should have done weeks ago, the day I got here and saw Brick when I realized that I didn’t hate him. That I never hated him and never got over him.

Dooley is meeting me at the Student Union building in ten minutes, so I sit down, quiet my jittery nerves and stab the number I never forgot into my phone. Jimmy’s number. I remember it not because I have a thing for him, but because it was one more connection to Brick. I listen to the ring, two, three, four and I hold my breath and will him to answer.

“Nyla? Nyla Rhoades?” It’s him, casual charm oozing even through the cell phone.

“It’s me. Long, lost Jezzebel and—”

“No, not you. Hey, I owe you an apology. Even after all this time—I hope it’s not too late. I should never have bought into that story my dad fed me. I know better.”

“I’m glad, Jimmy. That means a lot.” It does, even though I had to call him to get his apology, it’s more than I expected.

“I don’t suppose you called to hear an overdue lame apology from me, did you? Everything okay?”

“No.” This is where it gets tricky and I heave in a shaky breath. “Jimmy I need a big favor from you even though I have no right to ask.”

“Sure you do—ask away.” The tiny note of concern in his voice almost surprises me since Jimmy wasn’t one to worry about much, not ever. It’s one of the reasons I could bring myself to call him after all this time, his easy-going carefree attitude.

“I need you to talk to Brick, Jimmy. I need you to come clean. I don’t think I can keep your secret anymore.” There’s a beat of silence on his end and I know he’s thinking this request is coming from left field. He doesn’t know I’m at SPU with Brick and that I’ve carried a torch all these years. And I know I’ll have to explain.

“This is a strange favor to ask, Nyla. What’s going on?” His voice is wary now and I’ve never heard him so serious except that one time, when he asked me to keep his secret.

“I… “ I can’t say it, can’t spill my feelings to him, it feels all wrong. “I’m at SPU,” I say instead.

“You’re what? You’re a student there? With Brick?”

“Yes. I got the Claire Majisky Culinary Arts scholarship and I’m working and living at BMOC House.” I shut my eyes and breathe, waiting for my words to sink in, waiting for him to add them up to the inevitable conclusion.

“Nyla, don’t you tell me you still have a thing for Brick? After all this time?” I nod and mumble into the phone, aware of students passing me by and hoping I don’t look like the wreck I feel like, hoping no one calls in emergency help to save me from my nervous breakdown.

“Wow. I… don’t know what to say, except maybe are you sure? You know how he is—”

“I know what an outstanding, generous, loyal, hardworking person he is,” I blurt out because I don’t want to hear the usual criticism about Brick being cold.