Two Weeks (11 page)

I'm jarred back into reality. "Sure," I say. "Can I have both?"

Jackson smiles and nods. "That's what I'm having.
The Juggernaut Special.
"

I want to check the time, but I realize I left my phone in the car. "What time is it anyway?"

"Almost five," he says. He points at a clock on the wall that I didn't even notice.

"Wait, seriously?" I stare at the wall in disbelief. "Time sure flies when you're beating the shit out of stuff."

I only intended to stop by and work out, not spend the whole day here. But that's exactly what happened.

"I know," he says. "It's why most of my weeks are a blur." He continues wiping himself down with the towel, and after we get outside, I realize how futile his efforts are because of how incredibly hot and sticky it is.

I'm sweating again and so is he. "Do you want to sit on the deck for a little bit?" he asks.

"But it's so hot," I complain.

"Yeah, which makes a cold beer that much better."

He's got a point. "Fine."

Jackson seats me at the deck table and goes inside to procure our drinks. It's much cooler than it looks due to the huge, surrounding oak trees and the awning on the roof. I sit by myself for a few minutes, admiring the near silence of the countryside.

It's not like being in Boston at all. But even with the calm of the surroundings, my throat is parched and so I eagerly await his return.

Jackson reappears in the doorway with two shakes, colored straws protruding from the tops. "I'll bring out the beers after we have our protein," he says. "We both need it for recovery."

"Does that stuff taste good?" I ask, pointing at the glasses like they're vials of chemicals in a laboratory.

"This chocolate kind does. But some of the flavors are hit or miss. Here." He sets a glass in front of me. Condensation is already forming on the outside of the glass and it's slippery when I pick it up. I take a drink through the straw; it's not unlike a chocolate milkshake and I'm quite surprised by the fact that it's a recovery drink.

"This is good," I say. "What's in it?"

"Milk, protein powder, banana, almond butter, and ice. Mine has more protein in it than yours, but otherwise, they're identical. I love this stuff."

I savor the chocolatey taste in my mouth. "No kidding. I could drink these every morning before work." I suck through the straw again and feel relieved as the cold liquid trickles down my throat. It's nice.

"You should," he says.

While it still is hot out here, the cold drink makes it tolerable. I definitely appreciate it more than I would in the air conditioned house. However, I'm definitely looking forward to air conditioning after I shower.

We sit in silence for a short while, slowly sipping our drinks in the shade. It's beautiful out here, and from his deck, we have an unobstructed view into the lake. It's an incredible piece of property.

Jackson suddenly interrupts the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

I clear my throat. "Uh, sure."

"I've been thinking—why are you doing this, Ally? What's really going on?"

I almost spit out my shake. I'm shocked by his forwardness, and worried that all of my fears about this arrangement are coming true. "Wait, are you suggesting that you're uncomfortable with me being here?"

"Absolutely not," he says, assuaging my fear. "In fact, I was certain that I'd never have a chance to get to know you."

"So you
do
want to get to know me better?" I say, punctuating the sentence with a giddy grin.

"If that's okay with you. But that still doesn't answer my question. You're not just doing this because Max is a dick. I'm not that dumb. What's really up?"

I slow down for a second. He saw right through me quickly. "If I give you an answer, will you give me one?"

He pauses to consider the question. "I suppose."

I rest my hands on my bare, sweaty thighs and take a deep breath, sighing loudly. "I decided that I need a break from the normal routine. Max has been cheating on me. A lot. I just found out." I choose my words carefully, because if I add either the
best friend
or
pregnancy
part, it becomes far more complex than I want it to be.

I'm comfortable with this amount of complex for now.

Jackson looks shocked. "Someone would cheat on
you
? Is he a fucking idiot or something?"

His words make me feel warm inside, even warmer than the ridiculous, nearly-scalding temperature outside. "Yes, I do happen to think he's an idiot—I mean, he's been one for a long time and I just didn't notice it." I take another drink. "Do I get to ask
you
something now?"

"As long as you promise that you're not just hanging around me to piss him off. I don't need that kind of drama."

His observation is quite trenchant, but I know it's not true. "I'm not doing this to piss him off," I say honestly. Jackson doesn't say anything about me potentially using him for a rebound, so I keep that detail to myself since I still don't even know what to do with it. I'm not even sure if it's a real thing. "I promise. He and I, well, we're done... for good."

The words carry so much finality—and I'm actually glad to speak them.

"You're not just covertly snapping photos of me working out and sending them to him as a threat? Telling him that I'm coming for him?"

The thought makes me laugh. "I wish," I say.

"I'd be doing that if I were you. For real." His straw produces an intense slurping sound because he's all out of shake. "Beer time, I guess."

"Hey, what about
my
question?" I complain.

"I'm coming right back. Finish your shake." He stands up and I watch in awe as all of his muscles work together perfectly to carry his giant body into the house.

I bring the glass to my lips and dump the rest down my throat, crunching up the cold bits of ice as I finish it off. He's already outside again by the time I set the glass back on the table. The caps are already off the beers and he slides one over to me. I take a swig.

"Go ahead," he says. "Shoot."

"What really happened with the football thing?"

I watch his expression change to one of annoyance and he groans to complement it. "I don't really want to go into all of the details about that."

"But I answered
your
question," I say desperately.

"It's really stupid and I'm kind of ashamed about some of it."

"Please," I say. I'm so curious about this, especially given his obviously incredible physique and skills. "Just give me
something
here."

"Fine, but you won't ask additional questions, okay? You only get what I give you right now."

I nod in agreement.

He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "I was injured, and so I couldn't play in the NFL. It was
going
to happen, but that prevented it. I almost made it."

I catch myself talking and he promptly shushes me. The follow up questioning is totally instinctive.

"Don't forget the agreement." He's firm, but not cruel.

"Sorry," I say.

"So I lose my dream that I'd had since being a kid after literally tasting the real thing. Because of the injury, the university also won't let me play football. The university graciously lets me keep my scholarship, so I'm just a student at that point.

"My girlfriend at the time decides to break up with me after my failure to go pro, cheating on me with another guy that actually did go pro. I caught them eyeing each other sometimes when we went out as a group, but I never suspected anything."

Jackson takes a long gulp of beer. He doesn't seem thrilled about retelling this, but he also seems willing to do so.

"Ugh," I say. "That sucks."

"Well, it gets worse. I'm depressed, so I start smoking a lot of pot. My excessively-strict, narc of an RA catches me in the dorm and the case goes straight to the academic board and I lose my scholarship. It was mostly that he didn't like me, I think, because his girlfriend talked to me sometimes and he had some
serious
jealousy issues.

"He told them he caught me dealing drugs on campus, and it's zero-tolerance there, so that's it. He gets another guy to back up his lie. They choose his story over mine, because one way or another, I
was
breaking the university drug policy just by smoking. But I definitely
wasn't
selling drugs and I made that clear to the academic board. I don't know if they really believed me or not."

"Jackson, if you don't want to go into all of the details, it's fine." This is
heavy
.

"No, no," he said. "I'll finish." He sips again from his beer, and while I'm just getting started on mine, his is almost totally gone.

"Without the scholarship, I can't afford to go to classes. I'm also too ashamed to tell my parents what happened, so I end up dropping out. I get a shitty fast-food job and stay with a friend off-campus while I try to figure out what to do with myself. And then my parents die suddenly and my dad leaves me with more than enough money to finish school. But I can't even stand the sight of campus at that point, so I just move home permanently. And I've been here ever since." He takes a prolonged, deep breath. "Okay, that's it."

"Just over some pot?" I ask. "It's not like you were shooting heroin or something."

He chuckles. "Yeah. I don't hate the guy anymore. But I used to. It was the ultimate act of betrayal since we were really close up until that point."

"Fair enough," I say. It kind of reminds me of what happened with Angela.

"I could have just taken out a loan after I lost the scholarship. But I didn't for some reason. I guess I didn't want to try since I felt like shit. And then the whole thing with my parents. It's hard to deal with something like that when you're so young." He picks up the beer bottle and tries to take a sip; it's totally empty. "You spend every moment thinking you're an adult because you no longer live at home. But that proved to me that I was nothing but a punk kid that hadn't grown up at all. I wasn't ready for the real world."

"I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that," he says, "but I've changed a lot. I've gotten stronger. I can still use my physical abilities through fighting, even if I can't play football. And after losing my parents, I realized how petty and small most things are in life."

I sit quietly for a moment and ruminate about my own childhood dreams. For a short time, I wanted to be a professional gymnast, and although I got pretty good, I still wasn't anything special. But for a while, that was my dream. I lived and breathed it.

In retrospect, it was just a dumb, childish fantasy. I wasn't prepared to put in the time or the effort to become great. Although I went to evening lessons for a while, I eventually just lost interest and gave up.

Jackson, on the other hand, wanted to be a professional football player
and
put in the time to make it a reality. And he made it to the NFL! He made it.

But it was all stripped away. Why? I don't fully understand. But I'll respect his desire for privacy—for now.

"Why didn't Jeff tell me about this?" My brother had also attended Michigan State with him, and they had continued their friendship after high school as far as I knew. It made me wonder where he was during all of this madness.

His face tenses up. "Jeff and me... just aren't so close anymore. We grew apart." His expression is sullen, but he quickly rights it. "You're also breaking the no question rule."

"Oh, sorry," I say. I take a sip of my beer, hoping that it will keep my mouth distracted so that I don't inadvertently ask any more questions.

"We really need to lighten things up," he says suddenly. "All this serious talk has got me worn down. Wanna do something fun?"

"Shit," I say. "I've got to get going. I wanted to surprise my parents at dinner. It was already late before we sat down on the porch."

"They don't know you're staying?" he asks.

"No. I didn't tell them yet. Actually, they probably think I took off without saying goodbye. Every second I haven't told them makes me that much more awful."

Jackson smiles. "Sure. Do you want to hang out again tomorrow?"

"What are you doing
tonight
?" I ask. "I was just going to spend a couple of hours with them and then maybe come back or something. I mean, I get it if you're busy or—"

"That sounds better than drinking myself into a stupor," he says, cutting me off. "We could watch a movie or something."

"Let's do that," I say. "You've got Netflix?"

He nods. "Of course."

I quickly finish off my beer and stand up. Jackson follows me back to my rental car and we awkwardly stand next to it.

"Well, thanks for coming," he says.

"Thanks for letting me train with you," I say. "It was an honor,
Juggernaut
."

He laughs. "Thanks,
Alligator
."

"It's really stupid, isn't it?" I ask sheepishly. "My name?"

"I don't know if I should answer that." I watch his body language and it's clear that he thinks my phony name sucks. But that's just fine.

Before I realize it, I lean in and kiss him and he cradles my head with his hand and I'm lost in space for that single, brief moment. We've gone from zero to
making out
in a half second. I pull away and take a deep breath.

"I'll text you, okay?" My voice squeaks and it makes me feel extra self-conscious. He doesn't seem to notice.

"Okay, Ally. I'll see you later."

He closes my car door and I drive home for dinner.

***

"W
ell, geez, we're thrilled to see you," my mom says. "We thought you just walked out without saying anything."

"I left all my stuff in my room," I say.

"I guess I would have figured it out eventually," she says. "Where were you all day?"

I gulp, suddenly feeling like I'm back in high school again. My stomach is full of butterflies. I didn't consider this part of seeing Jackson. Anything I say can be misconstrued. It's weird that I'm twenty-five and still feeling this way. They don't even know that I broke up with Max, so telling them about Jackson would be extra weird.