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As I continue to observe my best friend and his body language, the pressure is getting to him. He lives and breathes the game, a typical jock, of course.
I don’t do the whole jock thing, unlike every other girl on campus. Give me a guy wearing a plaid shirt, glasses, and into literature over bulky torsos and man sweat any day. I like the quiet ones, not the obnoxious drink-a-keg-and-show-off-by-burping-the-alphabet type of guy.
Cruz falls somewhere in the middle.
He’s intelligent and gets good grades but is the biggest dick around his friends, including me. Girls love him, of course. He has the whole golden blond waves and blue-eyed thing happening plus one dimple indented in his left cheek which girls go stupid over.
But unlike all the other jocks, Cruz is somewhat picky with the women he hooks up with, and lately something’s been off. He rarely mentions or jokes about other girls, almost as if someone or something has gotten to him.
The buzzer finally rings loudly, distracting me from my thoughts. The stand of supporters jumps in the air to cheer the team’s victory win.
“YES!”
I fist pump the air, screaming at the top of my lungs until I fall into a fit of coughs from my dry throat. My arms unknowingly throw themselves over the girl beside me, hugging her tight while we continue to holler proudly.
Some guy, a big unit on my left, removes his jersey and starts smacking his chest like Tarzan. The stomping is in sync, and in the middle of the first verse, I’m suddenly surrounded by half-naked men singing their victory song.
My eyes scan the huddle for Cruz. It takes me a few moments to find him, given the crowds of people who have raced onto the field. Our gaze meets, his broad smile lighting up his entire face. Despite the distance between us, he fist-pumps me, and I do so in return. I’m crazy proud of him. This win will give him opportunities beyond college. Finally, he’ll be able to follow his dream and play for the big leagues.
Abandoning my chair, I run down the steps with excitement, careful not to lose my balance. Squeezing through the gate like many others are doing, I run toward Cruz, tackling his body from behind. Bad idea, my body slams against the hard padding causing me to wince. He turns around, wearing a smile filled with pride and laces his arms around my waist to lift me in the air.
“Can you believe it, Addy? We fucking won!”
I throw my arms around his drenched neck.
“You totally killed it, kid. We’re so partying up big time tonight. Pizza, movie, whatever you want to do.”
Cruz drops his head with a chuckle. “How many years have you been at college, and your idea of partying is still pizza and a movie?”
My lips purse, waiting for this lecture. I’m not exactly one to eat junk food and prefer a salad over the grease that passes off for food these days.
“Pizza is partying when you don’t exactly eat it every day.”
“I have a better idea, party at Jacob’s parents’ house,” Cruz insists as I begin to cringe. “You better do shots with me this time. Plus, we have yet to celebrate the apartment we found, roomie.”
“I’m going to ignore the peer pressure and agree to drink as your best friend. Therefore, my decision is to get wasted and not on your terms. And yes, our fabulous apartment needs to be celebrated.”
“Which part? The massage parlor next door or the Indian restaurant downstairs?”
“We both love Indian food, so that’s a tick,” I say with a grin, then I cross my arms. “The massage parlor is all you.”
The corners of Cruz’s lips pull into a smirk. “I’m offended you think I’m that type of man.”
Coach Rancic calls Cruz’s name. College journalists covering the story surround him.
“Oh, man, I better get this shit over with,” he complains, narrowing his eyes in annoyance. “Okay, my place at seven. Don’t be late, and don’t wear that skanky black dress that flashed your ass last time. I’m not spending the whole night being your bitch slave and fighting off jerks.”
“Wow, calling your best friend a skank is a great way to start celebrations.”
I recall the memory of having nothing to wear and allowing Ava to dress me. There was no time to change, and as someone who doesn’t wear dresses often, especially tight-fitting bodycon dresses, I spent most of the night making sure my ass wasn’t on display.
“Okay, you go.” I turn him around, pushing him toward the coach. “Love you! And I’m proud of you!”
Cruz turns around, reaching out his hand then retracting it against his chest and resting it on his heart. Teasingly, he bites his lip, unable to tame his proud grin. “Love you too, Addy.”
Two
Addison
