Finding My Way (14 page)

I have to drive her back home and hit the road. I lean forward and start my truck, letting the engine roar to life. Every step is now methodical and slow. Shifting out of park I wait for her to move off my lap. It’s all happening and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

I hold her to me on our way back to her house. Her parents will just be waking. Their coffee pot will start and her dad will come outside to get the paper. Tomorrow at this time, she’ll be sleeping in her bed and I’ll be in some dorm room staring at a white ceiling wondering how the fuck I got there. I pull up in front of her house and put my truck in park. I don’t shut it off. I can’t stall any longer.

“I love you Josie Preston. You own my heart. You stole a little piece of it the moment I saw you and you’ve taken the rest every day since,” I tell her. Before she can respond I disengage and step out, afraid to look at her. The tears will do me in. Destroy me like a dagger to my heart. I need her to be strong, but that’s a lot to ask of her. Our lives will be changing in a matter of minutes and all I can think about is that it could’ve been preventable.

Josie follows me out and right into my arms. I hold her, pressing her against my idling truck. My hands roam, cupping her ass. “God I’m going to miss you,” I say as my lips crash down on hers. She whimpers into my mouth as she cups my face with her hands. Her tears stain my cheeks. We part and I press my lips to her forehead. I swallow hard and clear my throat. “I gotta go, babe.”

She nods, but doesn’t let go. I bring my hands over the top of hers and kiss her one more time. “I love you, Jojo. You’re forever my girl.”

I pull her hands away from my face and jump into my truck without looking at her. I pull away, knowing she’s standing in the road watching me drive away. Everything in my heart is telling me to go back, but I don’t. I can’t.

T
wo weeks.

It’s been two weeks since I left Josie and Beaumont.

Fourteen days since I set foot in the hot Texas sun in the middle of summer. This is not how football should be played, but I’m here, trying to learn. My dad has called a few times, but I don’t return his calls. He wants to know how things are going and honestly, I’m too afraid to tell him. I’m not seeing any field time and the coach has barely said two words to me. I suit up with my pads on, ready to take the field, but nothing. No snaps for Westbury. I know I need to talk to him, but I’m at a loss as what to say. This should’ve been a sign. Actually, it was and I ignored it. When the coach didn’t make contact with me after signing day, I should’ve known. He doesn’t want me here.

It’s not even football that I care about right now. It’s the student pub on campus that I’ve started frequenting. They have open mic in the evening and I’ve been there every night. The first couple of days, it was just me and the kid behind the pretend bar, but as students started filtering back to school the crowd has grown. I’m not being heckled or having rotten fruit thrown at me so I take that as a plus.

Practice today sucked. That is the only way to sum it up. All I do is stand on the sidelines, in the same pose for the entire practice – me with my helmet on and my hands cinched tightly the collar of my jersey – waiting for my name to be called.

It’s being called now. One of the students calls my name and I walk up on the small stage and sit on a stool with my guitar resting on my knee. It’s hard to think back to when I was packing to leave that I almost threw it out, but thought better of it. If anything, I thought, I’d be able to play it in my room at night. It’s not like I have a roommate that would be put off with my playing. Being up on the stage, in front of my peers, pouring my heart out gives me a different kind of satisfaction. It’s knowing that I’m entertaining them, affording them the opportunity to put their worries aside for a brief moment and just relax. At least that’s how I feel about music while I’m playing. Strumming my guitar and creating a melody, even if the words aren’t mine, makes me feel like I’m accomplishing something great. Hearing them clap for me, before I even start playing, makes me feel like this is my path.

But how do I change my path, one that has been set out for me for as long as I can remember? I can’t. I’m here on scholarship to play football, not play guitar and cover other peoples’ songs. At best, this is a hobby.

Tonight, after performing, I’m relieved. The stress from the day is gone at least for the time being. I like walking across campus with my guitar on my back and hearing people ask me when I’m going to play again. No one knows me as a member of the Longhorn football team, they know me as the guy who gets on stage and sings for them and I think I like that.

Each step I climb that takes me to the third floor where my dorm room is, brings me closer to feeling the same anxiety I feel when I’m on the football field. I’m supposed to have a roommate, but he backed out, telling me that he was staying behind and attending college with his girlfriend. It’s when I get back to my empty dorm room and I’m lying on my bed that my mind starts working in overdrive. What’s Josie doing? Was I a bad friend to Mason? Is that why he’s not here? So many questions and not enough answers run through my mind.

The one thing I do know is that I’m desperate for acceptance and the only time I’m getting that is while I’m playing my guitar. On the field, I’m a nobody and I’m not prepared to be that person. As much as I hated the image of being Beaumont’s golden boy, this is far worse. This is painful and unwarranted. Thing is, I don’t know how to fix it or even if I want to. Maybe I can be content sitting on the sidelines for the next four years.

As I play those words over and over again in my head. I know that’s not the case. I’m here to play football and if the coach is not going to let me play, I need to transfer. I’ll have to sit out a year, but I can’t sit by and watch as a coach alters the plan. Josie’s counting on me.

Chapter 23

“H
ey baby,” I say as soon as she answers the phone. I know I’ve awakened her, but I can’t sleep. It’s three a.m. and my anxiety is building. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“It’s okay,” she slurs into the phone. I know she’s not that coherent, so maybe if I just talk she can listen. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing… I just,” I can’t spit the words out of my mouth. They’re there, sitting on the edge of my tongue, but are too thick to leave my mouth. “I can’t –”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” I say weakly. “I need to come see you.”

“What about, football practice?”

I close my eyes and wish she hadn’t brought it up. I’m not living her dream right now. I’m treated like the child that was produced from a torrid affair. At best, I’m third string and standing in front of me is a walk on who hasn’t won a high school game. I’m being punished and for what, I don’t know.

“Josie, I need to see you. It’s been six weeks and I can’t… you don’t… I need you Jojo. I’m leaving now.” I hang up before she has a chance to respond. It’s selfish I know, but I need her. I need the comfort that she can provide and I need to talk to her about school. I have to know what our future will be like if I leave Texas, because honestly I don’t know if I’m going to make it a full semester at this rate.

I drive all day and night, exceeding the speed limit until I hit the Beaumont town line. Josie leaves for school in a few days and the fact that she’s going to school with our friends makes me envious. I need that connection and I don’t have it. I don’t have one friend on the football team where I have to spend a majority of my time. I have no friends in class because I haven’t made an effort and at best I have a few people who I could call my friends from the student pub if I was to ever hang out with them. But I don’t. I spend any free time locked up tight in my room contemplating my life. This is not what I wanted. My life is not going according to plan.

Josie’s house is dark when I arrive. I don’t know if she’s waiting up for me or not. I haven’t spoken to her since I left my dorm room, only stopping for gas and coffee to keep me awake. I park and barely have the truck shut off before I’m out the door and jogging to the back side of the house where her window is. I rest my head on the cool glass and pray that she’s left her window open for me.

My hands push gently on the window sill and relief washes over me when it slides up. I heave myself in, mindful of the noise I make. I don’t want to wake her parents. I don’t want to have to explain myself or my appearance. I close it behind me, all the while never taking my eyes off my girl. I stand in the middle of her room, like a midnight stalker, and watch her sleep. She shows no sign of having any demons in her life and why should she? I’m supposed to be taking care of everything for her. I could stand here and stare, but the urge to touch her, hold her, is too great and overpowering. I quickly shed my shoes and clothes and crawl into bed with her. I don’t know what her reaction to me is going to be, but I’m excited and nervous to find out.

“Josie,” I whisper against her skin, skin that I’ve missed desperately. I rub my stubble along her face. She twitches and that tells me she’s been awake this whole time. “Are you pretending to be asleep, my girl?”

She giggles, turns and wraps her arms around me. Her lips find mine, her tongue making its presence known. This is what happiness is. She’s what makes me happy, content. Her fingers trail down my face and into my scruff. I haven’t shaved in weeks and I didn’t know how she’d like it. It’s a Longhorn thing – we don’t shave until we win – but at this rate with the QB we have, I’ll be a Sasquatch by the end of the season.

She pulls away against my wishes. I don’t want to stop. “What’s all this?” she asks as her fingers move in and out of my beard.

“Some tradition,” I say, as I pepper her with kisses. “I’ll shave as soon as we win.”

“Well you won’t win if you’re not QB1.”

I bring my lips down to silence her. I don’t want to talk football. I don’t want to talk about anything but her and me and how much we’ve missed each other. I move and settle between her legs, my mouth leaving a path of delight as I move down her body. I lift her tank top, exposing her darkened skin. The image of her poolside flashes before my mind only to remind me of something else football has taken from me. I kiss her exposed skin, every inch until I pull her up to remove her shirt. Her hands roam my body until I gently push her back down so I can continue my ravaging of her body. I sit back and look at the beauty in front of me. As much as I want to stare at her, my need for her is far greater. I bend forward and latch onto her breast. Her back arches, encouraging me, her other breast is being cupped and fondled by my hand. My body shakes with anticipation.

Josie shimmies closer to me, bringing her hips up to meet mine. She grinds against me, creating the much needed friction. The absence we’ve had is evident in her movements. She wants me just as much as I want her. She grabs at my briefs, pulling them down just enough to take hold of my erection. I close my eyes and hiss at the contact of her hand.

“Liam,” her voice is full of lust, full of need.

“Yeah, Jojo?”

She doesn’t answer. She pushes her panties down, her legs working to remove them. Her hands grip the sides of my briefs, yanking them down until I’m free. Her movements are rushed. The longing is there as her hands land on my backside, pulling me forward. The moment I enter her, time all but stops. Everything slows down, our breathing, our actions. I look at her, as I move in and out of her slowly. Nothing excites me more than to see her mouth open in ecstasy. I kiss her deeply to muffle her oncoming cries. I wish, in this moment, we were back in my dorm room where she could be herself and cry out in euphoria instead of having to try and stay quiet.

Josie’s hands roam from my back to my chest and down my arms. Her hands cup my face, her fingers thread into my hair, anything to keep me going. I know her body well, I know she’s close. As much as I’d love to go faster, to be able to watch her come undone, I don’t want to wake her parents. I grip her headboard with my hands when she tightens around me. She bites my chest to stifle her cry causing me to groan heavily into her pillow. I’m close and won’t last much longer.

“Liam, condom,” she says because she knows I’m there.

“I’ll pull-out,” I reassure her as I take hold of her hips and thrust into her.

“I love you,” she whispers against my mouth. “I miss you so much. I need you, baby,” she says over and over against me effectively breaking my heart.

I try to slow down to make this last but she has other ideas. Her legs lock behind my back, giving me a different angle and that’s when I lose it completely and spill into her.

“Shit, Liam,” she whisper screams, throwing me off of her. I slam my face into her pillow, but pull her into my arms. I fucked up, I know this.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I repeat over and over again in her ear.

“We have to be careful, Liam, we can’t get pregnant.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I say, again. She gets up and goes to the bathroom while I use the tissues from her nightstand to clean up. I lie back in her bed and think about her, plump with my child and smile. It would be a good thing and if it happened tonight, I wouldn’t care. It would be my excuse to get out of Texas and come home to Beaumont. As much as I hate saying it, I hope that we did the unthinkable and created a child because then I’d have no excuse.

Josie comes back and crawls into my arms. I hold her against my chest, my fingers running up and down her bare back. My hand rests on her hip, my fingers splayed out over her abdomen and all I can think about is that I got her pregnant and that thought excites me. Maybe in the back of my mind I knew this was the answer, the solution to my problems. Selfish, yes, but I’d marry her in a heartbeat. She wouldn’t be alone, raising a baby. We’d be a family. I can go to school here and work to support her. I’d make it work.

“What’s going on, Liam?”

I sigh and know I have to tell her. She needs to know that I hate school and it’s when I’m on the stage that, for the first time in a month, I’ve felt really at peace with my life. How can the two things that keep me calm be something she doesn’t understand? I don’t even know if I’ll be able to make her or show her how to grasp what it feels like to play the guitar and sing in front of twenty people or so.