King of Campus (36 page)

By the time we make it back to the cabin, I feel like I know so much more about her.  And it’s not bullshit surface crap either.  But stuff that actually matters.  The stuff that makes Ivy the woman she is today.  I can’t help but pull her slowly into my arms before kissing her gently on the lips.  I wish I could take away all the hurt pulsing through her.

Once we pull apart, I grab the cooler from the back of the truck before heading down to the small wooden dock.  A red canoe is beached in the sand near the shoreline.  I set the cooler of food down on the middle bench before instructing Ivy to sit up front so I can take the seat at the back of the canoe.  As she stands in the middle of the boat, I hand her an oar.  When she’s finally settled, I grab another paddle before carefully making my way to the back bench.  Using the oar, I push the boat off until we’re steadily gliding through the water.

“Okay, we’re just going to head towards the middle.  You start paddling on the right side and I’ll paddle on the left and then we’ll switch.”

Just like our entire relationship, we easily find a rhythm until we’re in the center of the glassy surfaced lake.  The breeze is slight and the sun is high in the cerulean colored sky.  There are a few white puffy clouds that float by.  Frogs croak near the shoreline.  Bass jump at the edges of the lake where the waterlilies are.  There’s a gray egret standing in the swallows where the cattails grow.  It’s completely serene out here which is one of the reasons I wanted to share this place with Ivy.  I love being here.  It’s one of the few escapes I have. 

“Okay.  Let’s stop right about here.”  I lay my paddle lengthwise in the canoe and Ivy does the same.  “Why don’t you turn and face me and then we can dig into our lunches.”

Carefully she swings her gorgeous legs around as I pull out two sandwiches, a big bag of chips, two more waters, along with some fresh fruit.

She looks surprised by everything I’ve pack for us.  “This is really nice, Roan, thank you.”

I grin at her, secretly thrilled that she thinks so.

“Hungry?”

She takes a massive bite out of her sandwich and I have to admit that I like the fact she’s got a healthy appetite which is hilarious because looking at Ivy, you wouldn’t think she eats anything at all.  Her body is tight and athletic looking.  I’ve been with a lot of different sized girls but the majority of them end up being super curvy with a lot going on up top and a good size ass.

Ivy doesn’t have much going on up top and her ass is high and firm.  The thought of squeezing it in my hands has my cock stirring in my cargo shorts.  For whatever reason, this girl totally does it for me.  Of course, the last thing I need is to pitch a major tent right now.  So I slow track that line of thought as she finally finishes chewing.

“I’m starving.  That hike was great, but it really did me in.”  She gives me another wide smile before attacking the rest of her sandwich with a single mindedness that I have no other choice but to respect.

As I work on my sandwich, I remember something I’ve been meaning to ask her.  “So what’s going on with the whole audition thing?”

Popping a chip into her mouth, she says, “I haven’t really heard anything yet.  Eric has a few contacts in Chicago and Cincinnati.”  She shrugs her shoulders.  “We’ll see if anything happens.  I’m hoping for a couple auditions when it gets closer to the end of spring semester.”

“But if something came along right now, you’d probably take it?”

She holds my eyes for a long moment before nodding.  “Yeah, I’d have to.  Dance is so competitive.  And if I have a chance to get in somewhere like that, I need to take it.  It’s what I’ve spent my entire life working towards.”

Understanding the feeling, I nod.  It’s the same way I feel about football.  Making it to the NFL has always been the dream.  The end game.  It’s what I’ve been living my life for.  This is actually the first time my attention feels divided between football and something else.

I just assumed that, if things worked out between us, we’d have the rest of this year to be together before I get drafted.  I hate the idea that she could leave at any time.  I’m not trying to get ahead of myself here, because what we’ve got going on between us is really new, but Ivy is the first girl I’ve ever wanted to explore a relationship with.  I don’t want to lose her.

“And your dad is cool with you dropping out of school?”

Ivy takes a big breath before slowly pushing it out.  “Of course he would prefer I finish up my degree.  But if I get an audition and make it, then he’ll understand.”  Gathering up the wrappers and napkins, she shoves them into the cooler sitting on the bench between us.  Switching topics she asks, “Even though this is your senior year, you’re not going to be graduating, right?”

I shake my head.  “No.  I switched majors last year, so that set me back credit-wise.  If I enter the draft this January, I won’t have enough credits to get my degree.”

“So it’s pretty much a done deal that you’ll be entering the draft this winter?”

Now I’m the one taking a deep breath.  I really thought I had everything planned out.  It’s only recently, as the draft looms closer, that I’m not so sure anymore.  “Linc thinks I should go this year.  He’s afraid I might get injured and it would hurt my chances of turning pro the following year. Or it could even be a career ender.  And I’m having the best season of my life right now.  So it makes a lot of sense for me to do it.”

As I push the words out, Ivy does that thing where she tilts her head to the side as if she’s picked up on something important.  “But you’re not so sure that’s what you want to do?”

It shouldn’t surprise me that she’s so finely attuned to my thoughts and feelings, but it does.  I’ve spent so much time burying my true emotions that I’m not used to sharing my inner thoughts with someone.

Feeling suddenly exposed, I rip my eyes from hers to stare out across the glassy surface of the lake at the greenery surrounding us.  Even though we’re about a forty minute drive from Barnett, it feels as if we’re a thousand miles away from the pressure that usually shadows me.  Every once in a while I find myself needing to escape here to clear my head.  To forget, even if it’s just for a few short hours, all the stress, all the decisions that need to be made within the next few months.

Shit.

I’m sure that makes me sounds like an ungrateful prick.  I know all too well how difficult it is to make it to the NFL.  Hell, probably every little dude who picks up a ball in peewee football has dreams of making it to the NFL.  But the reality of the situation is that less than one percent of kids playing high school football will make it professionally.

Less than one percent.

So I know just how lucky I am to be in this position.  It’s not something I take for granted.

But I have a lot riding on this.  People who are pulling for me, supporting me, counting on me to go all the way.  Family I don’t want to disappoint.  Sometimes it feels as if everyone at Barnett just assumes I’ll turn pro.  That I’ll be yet another success story they’ll be able to tout for the Barnett University football program.

Part of me feels as if Ivy can, to some degree, understand the pressure of pursuing an athletic dream.  I like that we have that in common.  I like that she’s so focused on making it in dance. Our drive and determination is similar in that regard.

“Roan?”

Lost in thought, my eyes snap instantly back to hers.  “Sometimes I think it might be nice to finish up here and then enter the draft the following year.”

Her entire face softens as she considers my words.  It’s almost as if she realizes just how hard that was for me to admit out loud.  “Then why don’t you?”

I shrug.  There’s a part within me that wants to look away from her inquisitive bright green eyes, but I hold steady.  If I’ve learned anything about Ivy over the last couple of weeks, it’s that she’s smart and perceptive.

“Because I’m playing the best ball of my life right now.  There’s a lot of buzz surrounding the Bulldogs.  I don’t want to lose that momentum.  And with the guys graduating or entering the draft this January, I’m not sure what the team will look like next year.”

“So why consider waiting then?”

Feeling slightly restless or maybe agitated, I jerk my shoulders again.  This isn’t an easy subject for me to discuss.  But maybe that’s because I’ve never had anyone to talk about it with who wasn’t pushing for me to go after my forth year.

Ivy has zero investment in my decision.

“I’d actually like to finish up my degree.  Who knows how long I’ll end up playing football for.  I’ve worked really hard over the past three years balancing both football and classes.  People may think I’ve been skating through, but I haven’t.  I’ve put the time in.  Plus, I know everything will change once I go pro.  My life will never be the same again.  The fame, attention, money…”

“Most guys wouldn’t feel that way.  They’d want it all as soon as they could have it.  They wouldn’t give a crap about the degree they’ve been working on.”

My gaze skewers hers.  “I know.  There are guys I play with now who feel that way.  College is nothing more than a means to an end.  It’s a place to work out and get bigger, faster and stronger, so they can make it to the NFL in three years.  Instead of taking advantage of the three or four years they’re spending here, they take bullshit classes that will go towards a useless degree they won’t be able to do anything with.”  I can’t help but shake my head at the stupidity of that kind of logic.  I’ve tried reaching out to some of those guys too, tried steering them into something more meaningful, but most don’t give a shit.  They float through their classes not really putting in any time or effort.

Which just seems like a complete waste to me.

“Even though I get tired of the attention here, it’s nothing compared to what it’ll be once I’m picked up by a team.  And I’m enjoying the season this year.  We’re in a groove.  Playing in the pros… it’s the next level,” even though I tell myself not to say the words, they slip out anyway, “and just because I’m good here doesn’t mean shit out there.  I could end up crapping out.”

Because I’ve seen it happen before…

“I know what you mean,” she responds softly, “I have the same fears.  Dancing, performing here at Barnett is a lot different than competing against a dancer who was trained at Julliard or has been working professionally for years.”

I nod.  Like I said before- Ivy is perceptive.  She gets it.  I’ve never been with a girl I can just chill with.  A girl I actually connect with on more than just a physical level.

And you know what?

I like talking to Ivy.  I like spending time with her.  And god knows I love holding her in my arms when I fall asleep at night.  It calms something within me I had no idea was unsettled.

“But you can’t let your fears stand in your way, Roan.  You’re an amazing football player.  And yeah, there’s always a learning curve when you move up to the next level- with anything.  That’s to be expected.”

I run a hand through my hair as her words and their meaning resonate within me.  I can’t help but think about some of the players who have been hyped up by the media, were supposed to be a first or second round draft pick, and then just kept getting passed over. Or couldn’t hack it in the NFL.

I don’t want to be one of those guys.

There’s a lot of pressure for me to make the right decision.  And I realize most of it is self-imposed. “I don’t want to make a decision based on what everyone around me feels is best.  I need to do what I believe is right.”

She nods before stretching her upper body across the middle seat of the canoe so she can lay a hand on my knee.  Gently she squeezes it right before my hand covers her more delicate one.  I love touching her.  Love feeling connected to her.  I almost shake my head in amazement that I’ve so unexpectedly found this with someone.

I lean towards her, wanting to feel her long lithe body pressed against mine.  Almost as if we’re magnets straining to connect, she continues trying to close the distance between us.  Unfortunately the shifting of our combined weight makes the canoe teeter.  It would have been no big deal except that Ivy’s eyes instantly flare wide with panic as she tries scrambling to steady herself.  The rocking motion becomes more precarious as I try stabilizing the narrow red boat we’re sitting in.  Water sloshes over the edges, splashing onto our clothes.

Trying to keep her from panicking further, I say in a calm voice, “Ivy, just sit back down.”  Because right now she seems to be scrabbling for purchase.  Her hands are trying to grip the sides.  I don’t want to laugh, but she kind of looks like a cat trying to avoid being thrown into a bathtub.  When she finally leans her body weight towards one side, I try steadying us by leaning the other way, hoping that will be enough to still the frantic swaying.  But I’ve overcompensated and when she desperately shifts her weight to the side I’m already on, I know it’s too late to save us.

“
Ivy
-” I’m only able to get her name out before the canoe flips and we both get dumped into the spring fed lake.  Even though it’s late September, the water is thankfully warm.  Otherwise this would suck a whole lot more.

Surfacing, I hear Ivy sputtering next to me as she starts treading water.  There’s still a thin veil of shock covering her features as if she can’t quite believe what just happened.