Love's Learning Curve (5 page)

“Yeah, dude. I’m going.”  I smirk at Jason, my teammate, as I walk out of the locker room.  Practice today was hell.  My shoulder is sore as shit already, but it’s an ache I welcome and enjoy.  Nothing an ice pack and twelve-pack can’t repair anyway.  The season is about to start, and the practices have been constant and long, but you won’t hear any complaints from me.  I have a point to prove again.  It’s my senior year, and even though some say it wasn’t smart, I refused the early offers to sign with the majors.  I want to graduate.  I’ve worked hard to get where I am and make a name for myself.  I want
my
name to mean something, even if the people who brought me into the world did everything in their power to fuck up any possible legacy.

I grab my helmet and straddle the seat, feeling a rush when the engine hums under me.  It’s fucked up that I feel more love and affection toward this machine than I’ve ever felt for any human—even a chick who blows me.  I realize it’s been a while.  Maybe I need a reminder of that tonight since my shoulder aches too much to fuck my fist in the shower.  A warm set of lips is better than my hand anyway.  

So it’s done.  That’s all it takes to make up my mind that I’ll definitely attend this frat party shit tonight.  I normally agree to attend these things but never actually show up.  Tonight, I will.  A deed needs handling.

Driving out of the lot, I’m happy the weather is finally nice enough to enjoy my bike again.  It’s not cold enough that I have to wear layers of leather to protect myself from the crisp winter air, but it’s also not too hot so I can finally ride more.  Even though I love my truck, I was getting sick of it.  I need the wind in my face.  Riding clears my head and eases the tension of my pressures.

I pull to the stop sign and stop, watching a chick running as she approaches an intersection across the street.  It’s as if she’s in her own little world and she owns the roads.  She didn’t even bother to look up before she started across the street.  I shake my head watching what could have been a bloody scene if there were a car coming.  A car or truck could’ve hit that stupid ass girl.  To make it worse, she has earbuds in and can’t even hear anything.  Who fucking runs watching the pavement in front of them instead of keeping their damn head up? 

When she crosses my path at the exit of the field lot, I turn the handle forcefully while holding the bike steady in neutral.  The engine roars, filling me with pride at the purr.  Even though the first time was probably enough, I do it again to make sure the vibrations from the engine on the pavement get her attention and successfully scare the shit out of her.  Hell, it’s a public service duty to help, and I’m happy to drive home this lesson to teach her to fucking pay attention to the world around her. 

Clearly, no one’s had an opportunity to deliver that lesson, so I’m glad to have the chance, and it works like a charm.  She jumps a few feet into the air and rushes out of my way.  I can’t help but laugh.  The shit is funny.  Ha—I guess I am as big of an asshole as people around me say.  Just as I’m thinking this to myself, I hear the same words fly out of her mouth.

“You are such a fucking asshole.  What did you do that for?” she yells over the wind down of the engine.  She yanks the earbuds out of her ears and furiously marches toward me with her glare trained on my head.  Yep, it worked all right.

She’s pissed and trying to be tough.  I admit she looks tough as shit right now.  Her stare down could probably give any superhero with laser vision a run for their money, but I find the situation entertaining.  I was trying to teach her a lifesaving lesson.  She should thank me, but I won’t hold my breath on that.

She marches over to the bike and stands close enough that I could reach up and touch her before I finally see it.  I mean I noticed her and knew even when she was fifty yards away that she was hot as hell, but now, I fucking see
her
.  Her bright sapphire blue eyes meet mine, and it changes everything.  Holy fuck—they stun me for a moment, and I’m unable to focus on any of the words coming out of the little ball of fury.  Fuck me sideways—those eyes.  I take a moment to evaluate the rest of the package before I attempt to concentrate on her words.

She stands with her arms crossed under her amazing tits.  She’s wearing a tight sports tank so I can tell they’re not too big and definitely not flat.  Perfect.  She releases one arm and uses it to point inches from my chest, still ranting through the labored breath from her run and, I suspect, adrenaline from the scare, but I’m not listening.  I take in more of her.  Long, lean, tanned legs that I think would look amazing wrapped around my waist.

I always thought I was a guy who preferred blondes, but this brunette in front of me just flipped that switch leaving my cock aching for a dark-haired beauty.

I hide behind the full wind guard on my helmet glad she can’t see my reaction to her as she stands with one leg propped and her finger still directed at me.  I have nothing.  Normally, I’d have a response but not today.  I pull myself together and lift one foot off the ground and onto the peg as I lean to the right and move to drive the fuck away from the first chick who’s ever stunned me to silence.  God—I wish I had paid closer attention to her voice and to what she was saying.  Who is this girl?

I know for a fact our paths have unfortunately never crossed.  This campus is huge.  I sure as fuck hope that changes, though.  I wouldn’t complain a bit about having her in my view.  I smile under the mask of the wind guard.  Again, I shake my head and laugh, but this time at myself.  Maybe there was a lesson in this situation for both of us.

Sliding the bike into gear, I accelerate leaving her standing there shocked by my silence.  The wheels roll across the pavement exiting the lot.  I race toward home thinking about her and am anxious to shower to get ready for the party.  I will be on a mission to find a brunette’s mouth to wrap around my cock tonight.  Thanks to her lesson, I know now that I really fucking like brunettes. 

I can’t even believe I allowed those words to escape my mouth.  I should be embarrassed, but I’m really not.  I’m too mad to be embarrassed.  What kind of asshole needs so much attention that he’d try to scare a girl who was running just so she’d look at him?  UGH—I huff, turning my body in the opposite direction of the path the attention-seeking douchebag went.  What is wrong with people?

He didn’t even respond to my question or attempt to defend himself when I yelled.  He just drove off.  I know he was laughing too.  Even though I couldn’t see his face, I saw his shoulders bouncing.  I move to the sidewalk and out of the road, continuing to walk instead of resuming my running pace rudely interrupted by the ass on the motorcycle.  I take a few deep breaths to settle my heart rate.  It takes a moment longer than usual to regain control of my breathing mostly from being startled but also from the run.  Well, so much for working through my earlier frustration by pounding the pavement.  It’s now multiplied by a million and turned to pure anger, thanks to
Mr. Attention Seeker
.

Whatever.  I decide not give Mr. Attention Seeker any more of my energy.  Ha.  The asshole didn’t win today, I did.  Pride fills me, and shockingly, I feel the signs of a smile sneak up on my face.  I put the earbuds back into my ears and head back toward the house.  With the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I can’t help but enjoy the satisfaction of being able to stand up for myself against the jerk.  Even if it wasn’t polite or ladylike, it felt good to tell him exactly what I thought of him and his behavior.  He deserved everything I said; it’s not as if I harmed his ego since he just laughed at me.

The only thing that could make this outcome better would be a face to put with his new
Mr. Attention Seeker
name.  Maybe it wasn’t so much the run I needed to work out my frustrations since my running time was spent rehashing old stuff, which had the opposite effect.  Obviously, I just needed someone to push me to my absolute limit at the right time to learn the joys of having a backbone.

If he only knew he was just one more person in a long line of assholes, he probably wouldn’t have gotten as much joy in scaring the life out of me.  But that’s okay because the faceless
Mr. Attention Seeker
hiding behind his helmet like Zorro is now on my permanent list of people to secretly hate.  What’s one more person to quietly wish terrible things on?  If I had known that it was going to actually help, I would have thanked him.  But whatever, his loss, and surely, he doesn’t need my gratitude to fluff his ego anymore anyway.

When I approach the huge white colonial house that feels more like home than anywhere, I glide my body to the cool grass on the front lawn.  I feel the tremble of my legs and realize that the vigor of this evening's run was more intense than usual.  My muscles spasm as I attempt to relieve the strain by easing into a gentle stretch then deepening it as I feel some relief.  Fearful of an injury that I don’t have time for, I also know I need the time I spend running to avoid a serious mental breakdown.  Like probably institutionalized breakdown.  Probably not that bad but it’s not worth the risk.  I can’t even imagine all the emotional dust that would be filling my headspace if I didn’t have this time to clear all those cobwebs and sweep it back under the rug where it belongs.  Need I even recognize the fact that running burns many calories allowing me to consume all the amazing food I want.  I seriously love food.  So it’s settled, an injury would suck, and because of that, I mentally lecture myself to be more careful not to push my physical limits just because I’m angry.

Glancing to the side of the house at the parking lot, I see that most of the cars are gone, including Morgan’s.  The house is probably destroyed, but quiet and empty, and it will likely remain that way well into the night.  My thoughts float to the idea of a book with a long soak in the bath. 

The sound of another loud engine interrupts my peaceful plans; even though it’s a much deeper hum than that of Mr. Attention Seeker’s motorcycle, I still find myself annoyed.  I’ve never had an aversion to hearing the engine of any car, truck, or motorcycle until today.  I grew up in the South, and loud, souped-up engines are a way of life in the South.  Even though those sounds would be out of place in the circle of family and friends that surround me, I still exist in the world.  No.  The annoyance I feel about the beautifully restored muscle car that is driving down the street has nothing to do with that engine or that car.  Even though I had wisely decided not to give Mr. Attention Seeker any more of my energy, my mind continuously finds little reminders to bring me back to the scene.  Why my brain is obsessively circling back to thoughts of him is beyond me.

Annoying.

Moving on.

I stand and move slowly to walk toward the door of the house.  After the two-hour escape, I’m glad to see that my earlier assessment is mostly true.  The house is a complete disaster and mostly cleared out except for a few last-minute stragglers I hear coming down the stairs to where I stand in the foyer.

“Crap,” I quietly mutter toward the empty common room just off to the right of the foyer, looking for a place to hide before she spots me, but I’m already too late.