Played (7 page)

After the long weekend, during which I'd
said nothing of my disastrous one-night stand with my professor, I came back to
school determined to forget about him, keep my head down, study and for fun,
tag along with Rihanna. Somehow, I'd just have to get through the rest of the
semester in Justin's class. After he made me a spectacle a few weeks before the
break, I'd been ignoring him and he'd reciprocated.

I couldn't help my visceral reaction to his
looks, though. Each time he walked into class with his tousled hair and trim
body clad in slacks and an open-necked button-down shirt, my stomach flipped
and I'd occasionally get uncomfortably moist between my legs. I took to wearing
panty liners to class to counter that.

On the first day of class after the break,
I sat in my usual spot near the back, wearing comfortable jeans and a plaid
shirt that I'd brought with me from the ranch. I no longer wanted to dress to
attract Justin's or anyone else's attention. It was just my luck, then, that
Justin did notice me among the legging and tunic-clad co-eds around me.

"Ms. Nielsen, have you been our riding
horses?" he called.

When I didn't answer, he strode back to
stand close to me. "I believe I asked you a question, Ms. Nielsen."

"Oh, I thought it was
rhetorical," I answered, refusing to look at him.

"Not at all."

"Then, yes, as a matter of fact, I
have." He stood there a moment before returning to the front of the room
with no further comment. Relieved, I opened my textbook and waited for the
lecture to begin. I didn't know what fun he intended to have with my choice of
clothing, but apparently, my answer spiked it.

Back at the dorm that afternoon, Rihanna
regarded my clothing with horror. "Tell me you didn't go to class in
that," she sputtered.

"Yes, I did. Why not?" I asked.

"You look like a…like a hick,"
she said, gesturing at me.

"So?"

"So, I'm not gonna let any bestie of
mine go around looking like that. C'mon, you need more clothes."

Before she was satisfied with my wardrobe, Rihanna
had also added considerably to hers, and we were glad of the car as we returned
to the dorm, laden with bags. Among our purchases were matching red sweaters to
wear to the basketball games for team spirit. Rihanna grumbled that I filled
mine out better than she did hers, but I knew she was teasing. Ri didn't have a
jealous bone in her body, I'd learned in the weeks we'd been rooming together.
She was more likely to want to match make than keep a boy to herself.

We were going to miss the next game,
though, so our sweater purchase was premature. It was the first away game
they'd played, and it was in Boise on Tuesday. Too far, we agreed, for us to
make the trip on a weeknight.

I was really beginning to enjoy the game,
and had three besides the exhibition game under my belt when we broke for
Thanksgiving. I also looked forward to seeing Drew on game nights. He was just
as much eye-candy as Justin was, but was safe because he was Ri's friend. I was
looking forward to Saturday, when once again the team would be playing at home.
It kept the week from dragging now that I wasn't enjoying my classes as much,
especially English. I was barely struggling through math, fearful that I
wouldn't pass it and would have to take it again since it was a requisite.

On Saturday, Rihanna and I dressed alike in
our red sweaters, black wool-blend pants that clung to our legs, and knee-high
boots. Red had never been my color, but Ri looked spectacular, her glossy dark
hair straying across her shoulders and green eyes sparkling.

"You look like you have a hot date, Ri.
Am I going to be on my own after the game?" I teased.

"We'll have to see!" she
answered, her good mood showing through.

Rihanna craned her neck, searching for
someone in particular, I thought, when we arrived at the Huntsman Center. As
usual, our tickets were high in the stands. Not the nosebleed section, but not
VIP, either. Russ's generosity would have afforded me better seats, but I
didn't want Ri to stretch her budget for it. I didn't think she'd take it well
if I offered to buy her ticket, either. Finally, she saw the person she was
looking for, a tall blonde boy with a wispy mustache and beard. She waved him
over, and he joined us.

"Alan, this is my roommate, Janey.
Janey, Alan." No further explanation about Alan's provenance was
forthcoming, and then the announcer called for the tip-off and the game was in
full swing.

The Utes had lost their game at Boise State
on Tuesday, their first loss of the season, and they were mad. It had been a
close game, which they lost at the buzzer when Boise tipped in a rebound in a
tied game, winning 69-67. Our boys, and especially Drew, were out to decimate
their next opponent. I watched Drew direct his team's movement, his precise
passing right past the hapless Fresno State guards, and his occasional
three-point shots. The way he moved gave me an unfamiliar thrill. He was poetry
in motion, the game a fast-paced ballet of athleticism. I was falling in love
with the game and for the most part ignoring Ri and her date, canoodling as if
they were in private. Ugh.

When the final horn sounded, the score was
90-77 Utah. The fans were ecstatic, the loss of a few days before forgotten in
the euphoria of the moment. We fought our way to the player's exit as usual and
let Drew know we'd be waiting for him. He'd been named MVP of the game, with
twenty-eight of the Ute's points to his credit, nine assists, a few steals and
even a couple of rebounds despite being the shortest man on the court. Flushed
with his success, Drew waved at us and made a motion as if he were tipping back
a glass of some beverage. Ri nodded, and we headed to the Pancake Haus where we
always congregated after a game.

A freshly showered and still glowing Drew
slipped into the booth beside me a little while later. I already had his cheese
fries waiting, along with sodas for the table. He half-rose to kiss Ri's cheek
across the table, then plopped back into the seat, shaking the booth.

"Great game, Drew," I said. We'd
seen each other weekly since the first game of the season, except for last
week, and I considered him a friend now.

"Thanks, Sugar," he replied. I
didn't remember when he'd started calling me Sugar, only that it had surprised
me the first time. Ri said it shouldn't, that it fit perfectly because I was
too sweet for words. I thought she was being sarcastic. Though he'd grown up in
Ogden, Utah, Drew had a bit of a southern drawl, and the word on his lips took
on an exotic flavor that tickled my fancy each time he said it. It sounded like
'Sugah'.

We couldn't get much conversation in, as
every few minutes someone came to the table to congratulate Drew. He answered
everyone graciously, but about an hour later, he'd apparently had enough.

"You want to get out of here?" he
asked us.

"Alan and I are going to a
movie," Ri answered. "Want to come?"

"Depends," he said.

"On what?"

"On what Janey wants to do. What do
you say, Sugar, wanta go with them?"

I tilted my head questioningly. Was he
asking me on a date? That could be fun, I thought. "Sure, why not?" I
answered. Drew immediately slipped his arm around my shoulders and answered Rihanna.

"I guess it's a date," he said,
answering my unspoken question.

After a little discussion, we decided to
see Ender's Game. I'd read the book, and was all for it. Even though critics
were panning it, Ri was obsessed with Harrison Ford, and the guys were just
happy we didn't want to see a chick flick.

Not having much experience of movies, I
didn't know what was so bad about it. Of course, a lot of the book was left
out, but Orson Scott Card, the author of the book, had been involved in the
production, so I thought they did a good job of capturing it, especially the
special effects during the battle scenes that were among my favorite parts of
the book. I came out of the theater with Drew's arm still around me. I was
smiling and bouncing with excitement.

"You liked it that much?" Drew
asked, smiling at me in return.

"I did! It really brought the book to
life."

"Usually, people who like to read
don't like the movie adaptation," he said. "But, I haven't read the
book, so I guess I'll take your word for it. Hey, Sugar, this was fun. Wanta do
it again next weekend?"

Ri stopped in her tracks ahead of us and
turned around, her mouth a perfect O and her eyes wide. "Drew, that's the
BYU game."

"So?" he said.

Widening her eyes even further and
thrusting her head forward, she stared at him for several seconds, while I
puzzled over her demeanor. "Okay," she said, apparently satisfied
with her examination of her friend. Drew and Alan walked us to the dorm, where
Alan and Rihanna indulged in another suck-face session. Drew leaned down to
kiss me on the cheek.

"I really enjoyed tonight," he
said. Happiness flooded me as I smiled back at him. I felt the same way. There
was no pressure, no wondering if we were going to have sex. I liked Drew a lot,
and we had some things in common, reading among them. Not to mention
basketball, which was rapidly becoming my favorite sport to watch.

"So did I."

In our room, Rihanna explained her odd
behavior earlier.

"The BYU game is like high-school
prom, or homecoming," she started, and then sighed as I gave her a blank
face. "It's like, the time to take your sweetheart out and show her a good
time. Some guys get their girls a corsage, even, to wear to the game, and then
afterward if it's a win, they'll go out to a really nice restaurant. Drew
asking you is a big deal, Janey-pooh."

"Oh." My pleasure in the evening
dimmed. I had no wish to hurt Drew's feelings, but I didn't think of him as my
sweetheart, not by a long shot. We'd had exactly one date, and it wasn't really
a date. He didn't ask me until the group invitation, and I only went because Rihanna
was going, too. We were friends, nothing more. Any romantic leanings I had were
toward Justin, despite the fact that he wasn't interested.

"Ri, what am I going to do? I didn't
realize it meant something."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "You're
going to go," she said. "I won't have you ditch my best friend. So it
means something; so what? Either you’ll enjoy it and the two of you will start
dating, or you won't. And if you don't, he won't either and that will be the
end of it."

She was mad, and I knew whose side she'd take.
She'd known Drew forever. I grew quiet. Losing Rihanna would devastate me, so
I'd have to cowboy up and go on this 'means something' date, and figure out a
way to let Drew down easy.

~~~

The campus was abuzz with the upcoming BYU
game. The Tuesday night game against Idaho State was all but eclipsed among the
true sports fans, and ignored completely by those who didn't care about the
sports, but loved the party atmosphere. Anyone not wearing red that week was
pelted with slushy snowballs, as I discovered to my chagrin on Monday. I needed
more red.

I planned to go to the game with Rihanna as
usual, and most of the posse was coming along, even those that didn't like
basketball. She didn’t mention Alan. On Wednesday, though, I got a call from
Drew asking me to meet him at the Student Union at noon. It was a foolhardy
appearance, as he had once again led the team to victory the night before
against Idaho, and the fans were fired up.

"I can't stay long, we won't get a
minute's peace," he greeted me, smiling.

"That's okay. What's up?" I
asked, thinking perhaps he'd found someone else he preferred to take out after
the game. He didn't owe me anything, after all, and I would have been fine with
it. Instead, he pressed a VIP ticket into my hand.

"Tell Ri I'm sorry, but I couldn't get
enough for the whole gang. I wanted you to have a good seat, though, since
you're my date."

I could feel my face softening into the
lines of affection usually reserved for my daughter.

"That's really sweet, Drew, thank
you!"

"Least I could do. Gotta run, I'll
pick you up at six-thirty," and he was gone, jogging through the room with
me staring after him.

That afternoon, I asked Rihanna why he
would want to pick me up at six-thirty, if the game didn't start until eight.

"He's got to be there early," she
answered.

Feeling a bit stupid, I decided to carry a
large purse that would have room for my iPad, so I'd have something to do while
I waited for the game to start. Dating a player could be a bit inconvenient, it
seemed. I'd have to snack on something, too, if I were going to wait until the
game was over for dinner. Then I stopped thinking about it and started
studying.

On Saturday, Rihanna had left to get some
lunch for us when a knock at the door revealed a huge vase of roses, apparently
floating in mid-air, though a pair of legs below it indicated someone was
behind them. "Delivery for Janey Nielsen," said the disembodied
voice.

"Oh, good grief," I answered,
without thinking. I collected myself and relieved the delivery person of her
burden. "Thank you."