Beauty and the Running Back (7 page)

Chapter Six

Dean

I know they say that your college years are supposed to be
the greatest of your life, but I gotta say I didn’t used to get the hype. Sure,
I got to have a ton of sex. Sure, the booze was flowing. Sure, my only
obligation in the wold was to winning football games. But sex, booze, and
football has always been my plan for the rest of my life. I didn’t think there
was anything special about these particular four years.

Until I met Jessa, that is.

I’m not exaggerating when I say that the next couple of
months after we sleep together are damn near perfect. I’ve slept with plenty of
women by now, but none that I click with like Jessa. Our compatibility is
outrageous, and on top of that there’s an actual emotional connection between
us—something I haven’t had since Rebecca, my first serious girlfriend. Not that
there’s any comparison there. What I feel for Jessa blows my feelings for
Rebecca out of the water. And I know that Jessa feels just as strongly about
me.

As soon as we have sex that first time, the floodgates go flying
open. We can’t get enough of each other after that. Nearly every day, we sneak
off for some time together. It doesn’t even occur to me until a couple months
in that I’ve never gone this long having sex with just one girl since starting
college. That’s because I honestly don’t notice—I’m so stoked about getting to
be with Jessa that for the first time I don’t feel like I need anybody else.

All told, shit’s
crazy
.

And it isn’t just my love life that’s kicking serious ass
these days. The Rayburn Red Birds are absolutely killing it. With me, Bear, and
Royce at the helm under Coach Cahill, we’ve been racking up W’s left right and
center. And as long as we don’t fuck anything up at this week’s game, Rayburn
University will be bowl-eligible. I couldn’t be more pumped.

Even my academics are looking up, thanks in large part to
Jessa. I know the tutoring thing was just a ruse to spend more time with her,
but I’ve learned a lot from her about work ethic and creative problem solving…
between rounds in the sack, that is. Even my American Lit professor Ms. Warren
has taken notice. When I got my first term paper back from her, there was a big
old “A” on the front, with a note that read, “See? No special treatment
needed”. I was so stoked to actually have gotten an A that I didn’t even mind
the dig. 

The only bummer that’s brought me down these past couple
months was Thanksgiving. Holidays of any kind are lousy for me since my mom,
Rowan, passed away. She’d been battling ovarian cancer for most of my pre-teen
years, and lost her fight just as I was getting ready to graduate from high
school. She was the one member of my family who bothered to tell me she loved
me, the one who kept us guys together. She was the one we rallied around, the
glue that kept us from falling apart. And when she died, we did just that.

That means that Thanksgiving this year consisted of me and
my dad sitting on his old ass couch, eating pizza and beer while we watched
football. It only made things stranger that one of the teams playing in the game
on TV was the one my brother Tom just got drafted to. He’s not starting yet,
obviously, but still. It was wild to know that he was there, living his dream,
while I was sitting in my dad’s shitty apartment in Trenton.

“You’ve got some pretty big shoes to fill,” my dad had
grumbled, as the game drew to a close, “Hope you know that, Dean.”

“I’m not looking to follow in anyone else’s footsteps,” I
snapped back at him, throwing back the rest of my beer, “I’m on my own path,
Dad.”

“Is that so?” my dad scoffed, “From what I can tell, you’re
still the chasing after your big brother, trying to one up him.”

I tried like hell not to take the bait. My dad is always
pulling shit like this—trying to pit me and Tom against each other so he can
feel a little better about himself. And even though I made it out of
Thanksgiving without having a massive blowup with my dad, his words stayed with
me. As much as I hate to admit it, that fucker knows exactly how to get under
my skin. And now, the last game of our regular season has that much more riding
on it.

At least I get to head right back to campus after my dismal
Thanksgiving dinner with Dad and see Jessa again. With her in my life, things
can only ever get so dark. She sneaks out and comes over to my place after her
own Thanksgiving dinner. Seeing her there when I open the door is like getting
a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart.

“Is Buck here?” she asks, stepping inside.

“Nope. He’s still in Massachusetts,” I smile, wrapping my
arms around her waist.

“Good,” she grins, lacing her fingers behind my neck,
“Because you know how much I hate to keep my voice down when we’re together.”

“Do I ever,” I laugh, catching her lips in mine.

Buck being around wouldn’t have stopped us, of course. He
knows that me and Jessa are seeing each other, as does her friend Blaire. But
outside of our two confidantes, nobody else knows about our relationship. Not
yet, anyway.

“Hey,” I murmur softly, as I back Jessa up into my bedroom,
“You know what I was thinking about?”

“What?” she smiles, lifting my tee shirt over my head and
kissing down my chest.

“I was thinking… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if people knew
we were together,” I go on, my cock stiffening as her lips brush against my
skin.

She glances up at me with something like alarm. That’s not
the reaction I was hoping for. Not by a long shot.

“I… I don’t know…” she says quietly, sinking back on her
heels, “I think things are going well just the way they are, don’t you?”

“Well sure,” I say, sitting on the bed next to her, “But
it’s not like we can keep this a secret forever.”

“Why not?” she laughs, trying to sound lighthearted. But I
can hear the desperation ringing loud and clear in her voice.

I sit with my hands on my knees, trying not to be hurt.
Trying and failing, that is.

“Is it just that you’re embarrassed for people to know, or
what?” I ask her, swinging my eyes her way.

Her blue-green eyes go wide.

“It’s not like that at all,” she insists.

“Then I just don’t get it,” I say roughly, “From where I’m
sitting, it seems like you just don’t want the rest of the school to know that
you’re with some big, dumb jock like me.”

“You know that’s not how I think of you,” she replies,
hugging her knees into her chest. “I mean, if anyone was going to be
embarrassed about coming out as a couple, it would logically be you. The star
running back and some artsy writer-type who usually has potting soil under her
finger nails?”

“Except I’m not the one who’s pushing to keep this a
secret,” I remind her, “You are.”

“I know. You’re right.”

“So?” I demand, “Why don’t you want to go public? I need to
understand.”

Jessa’s eyes mist over with tears as she sits beside me on
the bed, and at once I feel like a complete asshole.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, “I just… I care about you so much,
Jessa. And I’m proud to be with you. I want to be able to be with you all the
time, not just when we can sneak away.”

“I get that,” she says quietly, blinking away her tears,
“I’d love to be able to be with you all the time, too. To let the world know
about this incredible thing we have. If we were at another school, if I wasn’t
living at my parents’ house, if my dad wasn’t a rage-filled asshole…”

“Why are you so afraid of him, Jessa?” I ask, taking her
hand in mine, “I mean, you’re a grown woman. Why should it matter whether your dad
approves of your love life?”

“You haven’t known my dad very long,” she says, her eyes
snapping up to mine, “And the only contact you’ve had with him is on the
football field, where anger and aggression are normal. Well, I can tell you
that for Nathan Cahill, the anger and aggression don’t end when he hits the
showers.”

“What are you telling me?” I ask, feeling my own anger
boiling to a simmer. “He doesn’t… He isn’t violent with you, is he?”

“No, nothing like that,” Jessa says, shaking her head, “He’s
never hit me or my sister. God knows what he does to my mom behind closed
doors, but… His violence is always mental. Emotional. He can be a cruel
sonofabitch when he’s angry, Dean. And if he were to find out that you and I
had been seeing each other behind his back, it wouldn’t just be he’d be out to
punish.”

“I’m not afraid of your father,” I growl, taking her hands
in mine, “And I wouldn’t be afraid to lock horns with him over you.”

“And what if he were to give you less playing time? Bench
you? Kick you off the team for some made up reason?” she presses, “What would
you do then?”

“He can’t afford to bench me,” I grin assuredly, “He needs
me on the field too much.”

“Maybe,” Jessa laughs quietly, “But he’d find other ways to
hurt you. To hurt the both of us. I just don’t think it makes any sense to risk
him finding out, Dean. I really don’t.”

“Well… What would it take to make him approve of us being
together then?” I ask.

“I honestly don’t know,” she sighs, “I can’t see how he’d
ever get over me being with one of his players. He just has this huge mental
block against it. I mean, he’s against me or Allison being with
any
guy.
If it was one of his players, he’d just feel doubly betrayed.”

“What if I went about it
his
way?” I ask, “You know…
All proper and shit?”

“Proper? You?” Jessa smiles, nudging me with her shoulder.

“Sure!” I exclaim, “Why not?”

“You are many things, Dean,” she goes on, “Honorable. Loyal.
Sexy as fuck. But proper? You are not.”

“Maybe you’ve just never seen the proper side of me before,”
I grin, wrapping my arms around her waist and wrestling her playfully onto her
back. She laughs as I pin her hands up above her head.

“Because I love your improper side so much,” she grins back,
grinding her hips lightly against mine.

My cock throbs eagerly as she rubs against me. I press my
hips forward, letting her feel the length of my hard rod against her slit. She
sucks in a breath as she feels how ready I am to take her.

“I’ll be plenty improper with you tonight,” I mutter, biting
along her ear as I keep my stiff cock pressed against her hole, “But I’m
telling you… I think putting on the Good Christian Boy act might work with your
folks.”

“One, don’t talk about my folks while your cock is pressed
against my pussy,” she grins mischievously, “And two, you’re about as far from
a Good Christian Boy as they come.”

“You’ll just have to tutor me in that too,” I growl, lifting
her tee shirt over her head. I groan as I see that she’s not wearing a bra
underneath.

“I’m not wearing any panties either,” she breathes, as if
reading my mind.

“I fucking love you,” I growl, laying my hand on her cheek.

She blinks up at me in the near-darkness, and I realize what
I’ve just said. Jessa and I have told each other that we care about each other
plenty of times, but we’ve never used that word before. Love. I didn’t even
plan on using it tonight, it just sort of slipped out. But the second it
crossed my lips, I knew that it was true. We may only be a few months in, but I
know I love this woman. I just hope I didn’t spook her by saying so too soon…

“Dean,” Jessa breathes, laying a lingering kiss on my palm
before turning her eyes back to me, “I fucking love you too.”

We laugh with lusty delight as we tear off the rest of each
other’s clothes. Jessa climbs on top of me and rides me with utter, delirious
abandon. The sex we have that night is better than any we’ve had before—and
trust me, that’s saying something. Maybe, just maybe, it has something to do
with the fact that we’re not just fucking anymore. We’re making love.

Jesus, listen to me. This being-in-love thing is turning me
into a softie. Good thing Jessa makes me hard as a rock every time she as much
as walks into a room. I guess things balance out, in the end.

Jessa

Not even the impending East Coast winter can ruin my good
spirits as December sets in at Rayburn University. I finish my first semester
of college with a 4.0 GPA, a handful of lovely close friends, and a nice long
winter break to look forward to. Oh, and a sexy, compassionate, soulful (did I
mention sexy?) man in my life. All told, I’d say this whole college experiment
is going pretty well. I’m even feeling better physically about myself than I
ever have before. I admit, the freshman fifteen is starting to creep up on me,
but it’s landing in all the right places—namely my boobs and ass—so I don’t
mind one bit.

After Thanksgiving, which I will forevermore associate with
Dean and I saying “I love you” for the first time, we started seriously talking
about taking our relationship to the next level. Namely, actually telling
people about it. I advised Dean to get through the last game of the regular
season with my dad before we made any serious moves. Not only did the Rayburn
Red Birds get through their last game, they absolutely killed it. That means
that Rayburn will be playing in another bowl just before Christmas. I never
knew what it was like to be proud of a sports team before this, but damn if I’m
not over the moon for those guys.

And one guy in particular…

As Dean and I brainstorm about how to get my dad onboard
with us being together, the first semester officially draws to a close, and
winter break begins. And in the Cahill house, that means quarters are going to
be more cramped than ever. Not only will my dad and I be home more often
without our school and work obligations, we’ll also have another person
haunting the halls altogether—my sister, Allison. This is her last year of
college and her last winter break that she’ll be spending at home with us
before med school eats her life.

Allison and I may have our differences, but she’s always
been a fantastic big sister to me. From killer hand-me-downs to excellent
advice, Allison has had my back from the start. And right now, I could
definitely use her in my corner. I practically fly down the stairs when she and
dad arrive home from the train station, all but knocking her flat as I throw my
arms around her in a big bear hug.

“Someone’s happy to see her big sis, huh?” Allison laughs,
picking me up off my feet and spinning me around.

“And then some,” I laugh, at she sets me down, taking in the
sight of me with something approaching awe.

“Damn, Jessa. You look incredible,” Allison gushes, giving
me an admiring once-over, “My scrawny little sister is no more!”

“Guess you didn’t steal all the T&A from the gene pool,”
I laugh, helping her carry her bags upstairs as dad walks in the door behind
her.

“I don’t want to hear any talk of T&A in this house,”
Dad snaps after us, “You hear me?”

Allison and I giggle softly to ourselves, ducking into the
guest bedroom to get her all set up. I’d forgotten how much easier it is to
tolerate my dad’s shit as a team. It helps that Allison is daddy’s little
girl—she could always get away with anything and still come out smelling like
roses to him. That may have made me resentful at some point, but now her powers
of persuasion and smoothing-over might just come in handy.

“Damn! Rayburn really knows how to treat its coaches,”
Allison exclaims, flopping onto the guest bed, “This house is beautiful.”

“Yep. We’re living that D1 life now,” I smile, laying down
next to her, “And I’m certainly not complaining.”

“You’re doing OK here then?” Allison asks, rolling onto her
side to face me, “I have to say, I was kind of shocked to hear that you were
voluntarily moving back in with Mom and Dad after getting a taste of freedom
last year. And coming to a party school like Rayburn, no less…”

“It’ll be worth it to not have any student loans,” I tell
her, “You can afford to take on some debt, knowing you’ll be able to pay it off
when you’re a doctor. But I’m trying to be a writer, remember?”

Allison chuckles, tucking a long lock of chestnut hair
behind her ear.

“No, I think it’s a good call,” she says, “As long as you’re
happy here.”

“Rayburn has been a pleasant surprise,” I tell her honestly,
“I actually really like all my classes, I’ve made some awesome friends, and… my
love life isn’t doing too shabbily either.”

Allison sits up like a bolt at this last bit of information.

“You’re going to have to elaborate on that one,” she says,
kneeling beside me on the bed, “Are you seeing someone?”

“I am,” I reply, grinning like a lunatic. It feels so nice
to say so out loud. “It’s been going on for a few months now and it’s…
incredible.”

“What’s his name?!” Allison asks eagerly.

“It’s… Dean,” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper, “Dean
Carter.”

“Why are you whispering?” she asks, “Is he a professor or
something?”

“Worse,” I tell her, “He’s Dad’s running back.”

My sister’s mouth falls into a surprised “o”.

“You’re dating a football player?!” she exclaims.

“Keep your voice down!” I plead.

“Sorry, I’m just surprised is all,” Allison says, “You’ve
always gone for the artsy, sensitive types.”

“I know. But what can I say? Dean’s just… something else,” I
say dreamily.

“Damn. No wonder you look so radiant. You’re in love!” Allison
croons.

“You know what? I am,” I tell her, “And it’s awesome.
There’s just one little thing…”

“What’s that?”

“Nobody except you and like two other people knows about
us,” I reply.

“Because of Dad,” Allison says.

“Because of Dad,” I confirm, “But Dean has a plan to get
around Dad’s bullshit. We’re gonna try to beat him at his own game.”

“How?” Allison asks, genuinely curious, “Cause you know I’ve
never had any luck getting Dad to accept a boy who even smiled at me back when
I was a cheerleader. Especially not the football players.”

“Well, Dean already kind of laid the ground work by getting
Dad to suggest that I tutor him in English,” I go on, “So we’re just gonna turn
up the heat. Go through all the antiquated suitor nonsense. You know, the kind
of stuff Dad would flip for. We’re gonna start the campaign tomorrow night.”

“What’re you gonna do, sit on the porch swing sipping
lemonade?” Allison asks.

“If that’s what it takes!” I laugh, “This thing between me
and Dean is too important to give up on just because of Dad’s unreasonable
world view.”

“Hey, if it’s love, I say go for it,” Allison smiles, “Just
let me know if I can help.”

“Oh, you know I will,” I tell her, standing up to go, “I’ll
let you get settled in!”

“Hey, before you go,” Allison says, starting to unpack, “Do
you have a couple tampons I could borrow? I totally forgot to pick some up
before I left.”

“Sure thing,” I say, and head down the hall to the bathroom.

Closing the door behind me, I open the cabinet beneath the
sink and reach for my ever-present box of tampons. But instead, my fingers
close around thin air. I peer into the cabinet, and sure enough my tampons are
nowhere to be found. Just the gigantic pads my mom prefers to use. I rack my
brain, trying to remember where I put my stash.
Oh, that’s right,
I
think to myself,
I used up the last of them during my last period…

Back in
September.

My stomach flips on itself as I think back through the
months, praying that I’ve made some kind of mistake. I remember getting my
period right before Dean and I had sex for the first time, just after our first
attempt that was so rudely interrupted by my parents coming home early from
church. But surely that can’t have been the last time… right? I leap to my
feet, shoving my hands through my blonde hair as I pace the narrow bathroom.

“Don’t freak out, don’t freak out,” I mutter to myself,
“Sometimes the pill can screw with your cycle. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry
about…”

Unless it most definitely is.

I pad back down the hallway to Allison’s room, trying not to
burst into tears.

“We need to go to the drug store,” I tell her from the
doorway.

My big sister takes one look at my pale face, drops what she’s
doing, and goes to get the keys to my mother’s car.