Found by You (2 page)

Fuck almighty the girls. That shit drove me crazy. When I was a wide-eyed freshman getting my first taste of the fame that came with playing for a nationally ranked team, I didn’t mind it. But now, four years later and being team captain, I wasn’t trying to deal with it. I had my fair share of college douchebaggery but nothing was more unattractive these days than a girl attempting to give you a lap dance after sucking off one of your teammates. Been there, done that.

But this girl in front of me never stared, and like I said, I kinda wished she had, if only to see her face. We crossed each other’s paths a few times, and I was naturally curious. I was definitely seeing her now as she stared at the fight that brewed before her. Naturally, she seemed terrified with her eyes wide and mouth hanging open in shock. I hated to see that look on her face. She had one of those sweet looks about her, almost innocent. I guess the large eyes did it. It was dark outside, but the laundry building’s outer lighting let me know her eyes weren’t the common brown I usually saw on dark girls. They were much lighter. I wished it was brighter so I could see them better. Like I said, I’d never seen such a thing on a black girl before. Other than that I supposed she was ordinary. Long, silky hair, round face, and full lips. She definitely didn’t seem like the type to go around breaking up fights. That fact was proven with the terror that laced her eyes, so why did she intercede?

The bigger dude in front of me must have wondered the same thing. He tipped his chin at her, fists still raised. “What?”

She simply blinked, and her mouth moved without words, like she was trying to find them. Eventually, her gaze moved from the three of us and focused on the guy who spoke.

She pushed her large bag further up her arm. “Two against one is kind of cheap, don’t you think?”

My eyes blinked this time.
What is she doing?

Letting out a breath, she actually stepped up to the guy. “Maybe you guys should back off.”

Words couldn’t come to me at what was happening, and I felt my lips move up into a smile. This girl was
maybe
five foot two and here she was stepping up to two dudes. I didn’t need the help, but I definitely was impressed, and I didn’t impress easy.

The guys in front of me didn’t look impressed, though. Quite frankly they looked pissed the fuck off.

The short guy lowered his hands. I think we all had at this point. He cocked his head at the girl, snorting. “Maybe you should step off, bitch.”

Now, that kind of shit I didn’t tolerate. I moved in front of the girl, guiding her little body behind me. My arm brushed her hand that was on her bag, and she stiffened, clinching the bag tighter. I hoped she didn’t think I’d hurt her. We were on the same team here.

I pointed at the guy that called her outside of her name. I didn’t grow up with a momma, but I was well aware of how a woman should be treated. “Your issue is with me. Don’t say shit to her.”

I turned, looking over my shoulder at the girl. “Maybe you should get out of here.”

She gazed up, but it was no longer in fear of the situation. The look was less intense; her eyes trained on me, studying even, as they scanned. I lost that look when I heard motion in front of me. She moved to my side, and I faced forward. The guys closed the distance, and they were looking like they wanted to do more.

Shorty took the lead again. “I’d listen to him, sweetheart. Me and my boy have some time for you later though if you like.” He grinned, eyeing her up and down.

Fuck that shit. I moved to pummel the guy’s face in for even insinuating such a thing with his friend, but stopped when the girl took my attention by doing the weirdest thing.

She got even closer to the short guy, and the thing was, she didn’t look scared at all. The thought crossed my mind that maybe she was taking him up on his offer, but then she stopped, squinting hard at him.

What was she doing?

Suddenly, she smiled. “Fiery cock two fifty-seven?”

What the…

The short guy looked as confused as I felt. His eyes shifted, but before he could react, the girl beside me continued.

She put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Fiery cock_257 it is you.”

The guy’s mouth dropped open. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“That is your username,” she said, pointing at him. “I recognize you from your profile picture on the Health Center’s emergency chat line. Remember me? Roxie? I helped you with your problem last week. You had that red rash on your dick. Did that cream the nurse told me to recommend to you help?”

I covered my mouth, an attempt to conceal the fact I was about to seriously lose my shit in a fit of laugher. The guy in front of me looked anything but amused. He made to back away, but his friend behind him—who was also losing his mind in laughter—blocked his path.

The short guy whipped around. “Shut the fuck up, dude.”

He didn’t stop, and the girl, Roxie, kept on. She pointed at his friend this time. “Is this your partner?”

The guy’s laughter cut off full stop and both men looked like they were going to vomit. I, on the other hand, couldn’t catch my breath I was laughing so hard and had to hold my stomach just to get ahold of myself. Before I knew it, the guys were backing away.

The short dude pointed at me. “We’ll let it go this time, Griffin, but I suggest you and your team start playing the way you should.”

This guy really had no intimidation points left, and I think he knew it because he ran off with his ‘partner’ before I could respond.

Turning, I had to give this girl Roxie a light round of applause. Five foot nothing and she managed to chase away two grown men. Well, at least one and a half grown men.

“That was awesome,” I told her.

Grinning her full lips, she shrugged. “No big. People sometimes forget that all anonymity goes out the window when you leave your profile icon on.”

I crossed my arms. “Still. It was brilliant.”

Biting her lip, she dipped her head. This girl was a shy one, though by what she just did she could have fooled me.

I held out my hand for her to shake. “I’m Griffin. Griffin Chandler.”

Pushing her laundry bag up on her shoulder, she took my hand. She was very smooth. Her skin that is. “Roxie Peterson.”

I nodded. Taking back my hand, I pushed them both into my pockets. “So you work at the Heath Center’s chat line?”

She shook her head, her long hair flowing. “Not really. I participate in an intermural on Thursday nights. Our group volunteered to do the help line. A onetime thing.”

She played sports? I wondered which one and why I hadn’t seen her before. My team practiced nearly every night in the largest of the four gyms. I should have passed her at least once. I wanted to inquire about what she played, but she was already moving away from me.

I caught up to her in only two strides to the maybe six she took. She was struggling with the not one, but
two
bags on her shoulder. One looked to be a laptop bag, the other a laundry bag. I thought to help her.

“Hey, let me get that for you,” I said, reaching for the computer bag first. “What building are you headed to? I can walk you.”

She raised her hands. “No. It’s fine—”

“Don’t be silly. You shouldn’t be walking around this late by yourself. You saw those guys.” I managed to get the computer bag off her shoulder, but when I grabbed for the laundry she backed away.

“Really, Griffin. You don’t have to. You’ve got your own laundry,” she said, motioning to my abandoned white hamper I tossed before the fight.

I’d nearly forgotten about that, but I wanted to help her. My stuff could wait. “It’s no big deal.”

I got her other bag, and I had to pause, not because it was heavy, but because of the wave of scent that hit the chilled night air when I did. The smell I recognized instantly, and my awareness drifted off at the pull of it. That smell was the reason I was rushing back down to the laundry room so quickly, trying to get there before I ran out of time.

I must have been in daze because suddenly the bag was off my shoulder and back on Roxie’s arm. She took her computer bag then stepped back away from me.

“Goodnight, Griffin,” she said simply before turning around.

I went to move after her, but I had a strong feeling my efforts would only end in defeat. At five foot nothing, Roxie Peterson had some fight. That was one thing I knew for sure.

I cupped my mouth with my hand. “I’ll figure out a way to return the favor for tonight. Don’t think this is over.”

Her head moved only slightly to look over her shoulder, but she didn’t stop. Nor did she turn around. Facing forward, she turned the corner and that was the last I saw of Super Girl Roxie Peterson.

Smiling to myself, I picked up my basket and ran inside. I went to the dryer I always went to dry my things in. At first I only used that dryer because someone always left time on it, but that changed when I opened it.

I did just that, opening it like I had weeks prior, and that familiar smell of warm brown sugar and softener sheets hit my nose like it did the first time. I finally knew the owner of that smell as I filled the dryer with my wet clothes.

Roxie.

Chapter Three

Roxie

“So Griffin Chandler offered to help you take your laundry back to your apartment,” Clare said, lacing up her skates, “and you basically swatted him away and left him standing there?” Lowering her skates from the locker room bench, she eyed me.

Since her description was basically spot on, I could do nothing but gnaw my lip. “I didn’t handle that very well, did I?”

Chuckling, Clare stood. Her derby girl name,
Miss B. Haven,
shone on her back as she wheeled her way on eight wheels to her locker ahead. “He was just trying to be nice, Rox. You know, since you did something nice for him? It’s called a favor.”

Groaning, I finished tying my own skates, bowing the neon straps. “I know, but the whole situation was already so weird and awkward. Frankly, I just wanted it to be over.”

He was Griffin Chandler. Griffin freakin’ Chandler. The man was a legend at Ridgemore-U. I wasn’t even into basketball, and I knew he was one of the top picks to go professional after he graduated. He was one of those untouchable people, the ones you always heard about but never had direct contact with. His existence, who he was and all he was about, had always been imagined by me. The vision of which I had created through the glass wall that separated us during those casual nights in the laundry room. But when I saw those guys challenging him, I couldn’t help shattering the wall. It may have been impulsive, stupid even, but it didn’t feel right to sit back and do nothing.

I’d probably spend the whole rest of my senior year trying to block out what happened. How inappropriate it was for me to step in and how dumb I most likely looked doing it, even if the situation had worked out.

I rubbed my temples to relieve my internal frustrations. “God, I probably looked like an idiot. I completely shot off at the mouth.”

“I highly doubt that considering what you told me you did,” Clare said, shoving her high top sneakers into her locker. “I still can’t believe what you said. Simply beautiful, my friend. Couldn’t have handled that better myself.”

My lips threatened to smile. I shrugged, moving my feet out of the walkway of the other derby girls around us. Our university only let us use the smallest of the school’s four gyms for practices and bouts, like tonight’s match. Because of that, we had to share with our competitors. Our little locker room was packed tonight.

“It just didn’t feel right not doing anything,” I said once the girls cleared the walkway. “I guess I got lucky that I had some dirt on those guys. They were huge, at least one of them was anyway, and Griffin was actually going to tussle with him.”

I was blown away seeing him there, standing up to two brothers like that. That would have intimidated any guy, but not Griffin. It kind of made me see him differently. It added a touch of swagger on top of the mental image I had created of him, and that was definitely not a bad thing.

“I suppose it helps that he’s huge himself. Still, one against two, the guy’s definitely got some
cojones
. We could use some of that for the bout. You think he’d want to join the Venomous Vixens?” she asked, strutting our team colors of black and pink while placing her hands on her trim hips.

I laughed, packing my own shoes into my locker. The black boots were thick, but I always managed. “The shorts may be a bit short for him.”

Those things always rode up. If a girl had cellulite, the world would know. That fact made me almost grateful that no one at the school cared enough about roller derby to show up for our bouts. The environment was lax, and we all felt comfortable in our skin to play the best game we could. Still, it would be nice to get a nod from the community and show people that we existed. I guess that was what one called a catch twenty-two.

“Right. And could you imagine him in fishnets?” she asked, flashing her thigh as an example. Suddenly, she stopped and lifted her hands. “Never mind. You probably could with the way you’re strung up on him.”

I nudged her. “Funny, Clare. Real funny.”

Grinning, she fluffed up the short black strands of her pixie cut. She had the tips highlighted in pink tonight for the bout with matching pink glitter on her eyelashes. I followed her to the locker room doors with the rest of our team and some of our competitors, the Cutthroat Pinups.

“You coming tonight to get cheese sticks with the girls after our win?” Clare asked.

The comment got her an eye roll from one of the Pinups, and I had to laugh. Clare liked to be optimistic despite the fact we’d only had a handful of wins under our belt.

I was sliding on my elbow pads when I answered her. “Can’t. I’m busy. Sorry.”

“Busy, busy, busy,” she said when we got to our team’s side of the gym. “Another chat?”

Clare was the only one I confided in about my chats. Ironically enough that was how we met. She was looking for someone to talk to on campus, and I was doing my own thing. She told me about roller derby, and eventually convinced me to join up. Sometimes life was funny. One could meet the people they trusted the most in the weirdest places. When it came to the people who disappointed you the most, they could be right there, the ones closest to you. In your face. Tucked into your back pocket. I supposed that’s how things online for me started. My issues with trust. I thought about that as the bout started and pondered the day I might loosen my grip of the online clutch I had since freshman year. Perhaps, maybe one day, I would.