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Dereck
“Denny! Get your goddamn chin up and keep your eye on the ball!” Coach screams from across the field. “Don’t make me tell you twice!”
Sweating like a fucking animal, I look up just briefly to wipe the sweat from my eyes, then nod, forcing myself to try and focus better. It’s proving to be a difficult task considering I can’t seem to stop thinking about Rowan and how fucking good she feels in my arms. I’ve never felt this way before, so distracted by a woman. Rowan Bates, no less, a woman I used to not be able to stand.
With a sigh, I put my head down and manage to make it through the rest of practice with only one more fumble, but by the time I walk to the locker-room to clean up, Coach is on top of me, bitching and moaning about the same shit he usually does.
“What’s distracting you out there, son?” he asks. He’s trying not to come off as too demanding, but he’s terrible about it, because his entire face is pinched in distaste as he glares at me. I imagine he’s that grandpa that all the grandkids are intimidated by when he comes over for holidays. A lot of ‘yes, sirs’ and ‘no, sirs’ in his household.
“I’m sorry, Coach,” I tell him, removing my helmet. “It’s just an off day, I guess.”
“Is it your classes?” demands Coach. “Are you overwhelmed? Do I need to write a note to one of your professors?”
“No, classes are fine.”
“Is it the parties?” Before I can answer, his voice drops low, and he glances over his shoulder for a split second to make sure no one is eavesdropping on this ridiculous conversation. “Is it drugs?”
Despite myself, I laugh. “Nah, Coach, it’s not drugs.”
Coach straightens up, hands on his hips. The beer belly that has been growing steadily over the last few semesters hangs over his belt, but even with his graying hair and wrinkled face, he’s still an intimidating guy.
“Is it a girl?” he asks. I must hesitate for a split second too long, because he clicks his tongue in disappointment and shakes his head. “Damn women,” he mutters. “Life would be better off without them.”
“I’m sure that’s not true, Coach.” I pat his shoulder and wink. “After all, someone had to give birth to your best team in years, right?”
Coach mumbles something that sounds very much like profanities, then crosses his arms over his flabby chest. “Keep your head in the game, Dereck. Your scholarship won’t hold up if you can’t perform.”
Then thank God it’s my last year here, because the only performances I'll be doing soon involve Rowan Bates.
He claps me on the shoulder then waddles away, stiff from age and anger and high school memories.
Back in the locker room, I jump into the shower to wash away the grime and sweat, wishing I didn’t already have a hard on thinking of Rowan. Honestly, ever since our hookup the night at her house, I haven’t been able to think of anything but Rowan Bates, and it’s becoming a serious problem.
Not enough of a problem that I’m going to stop pursuing her, of course, but enough of one.
After dressing for class, I gather my bookbag from my locker and start off across the field towards the lecture hall. As I swing open the door to step inside, I almost step smack-dab into Jamie, Rowan’s roommate, on her way out of the building.
“Oh, God, sorry,” she gasps as her pack falls to the ground, scattering papers. I kneel down to help her pick them up, shaking my head.
“It was my fault. No worries.”
She looks up at me then, and a flicker of recognition flashes across her features. “Dereck,” she says. “Hi. Sorry. It was me, I swear. Not looking where I was going.”
“No harm, no foul.” I straighten her stack of papers and hand them over to her with a grin, and Jamie shoves them back into her bag, eyes still firmly on me. Jamie is cute, it’s evidently clear, and if I didn’t have such a hard-on for Rowan, I’d consider getting to know Jamie better. Everyone in this school assumes I’m some asshole, shallow womanizer, but it’s basically bullshit.
I like all girls.
“So, um, how is your friend doing?” I ask, and then want to kick myself for acting so uncool.
“What friend?” Jamie asks innocently, but I know she’s calling me on my shit.
“How is Rowan?”
“She’s fine, I guess.” Jamie shrugs a bit, and I can tell she’s ready to leave, and I don’t want to draw this out longer than necessary.
“Oh, uh … she didn’t tell you about the other night?” I hesitate, because I have no idea what Rowan has disclosed to her friend and what she hasn’t, and I don’t want to start running my big mouth.
“She kind of told me …” Jamie says, trailing off. The redness in her cheeks grows until it’s nearly consuming her face, and I don’t have to push her to figure out if she knows about the hookup or not. It’s pretty clear. “Sorry,” she mumbles, dropping her eyes to the ground. “I better go.” As she turns to hurry away, I reach out to stop her.
