Until Now (Not Yet #2) (3 page)

Damian laughed. “Sure did. Mom would never send me to Bloomington without your favorite dinner.” He pushed the container laden with pierogi toward Jon. “Thanks for letting me crash here tonight, man.”

“No problem.” Jon pulled the foil from the casserole dish and shoved a whole pierogi in his mouth, groaning in satisfaction. “Fuck, yes. Still warm,” he said around a mouthful of meat and potatoes. He swallowed before continuing. “Besides, you’re Dean’s little brother. You’re family.”

I leaned back in my chair. “Jon, no parties here tonight. He cannot be hungover when he meets with Coach K tomorrow. I’m serious. If he fucks this up, he’ll end up at Purdue with the twins.” Our brother and sister attended our rival school, and I had to make sure Damian got accepted here. Long-standing family competition and some serious ribbing were at stake. True, I was a proud party animal and a general asshole to my younger siblings, but I still looked out for them—especially when they were eighteen and visiting my campus.

Damian was hoping to get a football scholarship to IU like I had. My dad worked in a factory back home, so money was tight. Plus with six kids a year or two apart in age, my parents would have three in college at the same time for the foreseeable future. Scholarships were a necessity. I was pretty sure that Coach K wouldn’t have asked him here if he wasn’t planning on extending him an offer, but having my little bro show up hungover could change that plan real fast.

“I hear you.” Jon shoved another pierogi in his mouth and then walked to the fridge to grab a beer. Giving Damian a nod, he twisted off the cap and handed it to him.

“Jerk-off? What did I just say?” I shouted and pulled the tray of pierogies over to my side of the table.

Jon grabbed the tray and held it over his head. “If you take these from me, I will kill you. They’re that good.”

Damian laughed and then took a long drink of beer. “Newsflash, bro. I’ve had beer before. Lots of it. You know, down at the river? Just like you used to do.”

I couldn’t argue with his point, so I grabbed a pierogi before my pig of a roommate polished them all off. “I know that. But tomorrow’s important for you. Be cool.”

Damian nodded, his face sobering. “Thanks for setting it up. I can’t believe you’re almost done playing at IU.”

Reaching behind me, I opened the fridge door and grabbed myself a beer. “Me either.”

“Can you call some chicks to come over tonight? A hookup would put me in a great mood before I meet Coach K.” Damian waggled his eyebrows, and I threw my cap at his forehead. It landed dead center, and I barked out a laugh.

“No way in hell. Your Justin Bieber hair and tiny dick would hurt my reputation.” I grinned at the look on my brother’s face as he smoothed his preppy hair.

“You’re the small pecker in the family. My junk’s so big girls tear up when they see me.” He grabbed his crotch and tugged.

I rolled my eyes. “They’re crying cause they can’t feel shit.”

Damian punched my throwing arm. Hard.
Fucker
. “You dating anyone or just hooking up with everyone?”

Jon licked his fingers as if in anticipation of what he was about to unload on my brother. “Your bro, the ladies’ man that he is, has an honest-to-God crush on a girl that can’t stand the sight of him. She won’t even tell him her name.”

“What? Fill me in.” Damian rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“I don’t have a crush, nutsack. I just want to know her effing name, and she won’t tell me. It’s driving me crazy.” I dragged my fingers through my messy hair and finished my beer in one gulp.

“Where’d you meet her?” Damian asked.

Jon folded his hands behind his head and smirked. “She’s a waitress at a diner. She’s a knockout redhead. And she isn’t buying what our man is selling.”

Damian laughed too loud and too long for my liking. I smacked the back of his head. The last thing I needed was my dad, coach, or my annoying brothers and sisters figuring out that anything was distracting me from playing ball this fall.

But they wouldn’t. Because there were no distractions. There was only football.

***

FIVE HOURS LATER Damian was passed out in my room, and Jon and I were well past shit-faced. I threw the controller of our Xbox down on the table and fell back against the couch. “Fuck, I’m drunk.”

Jon laughed through half-mast eyes that didn’t seem to be focusing. “Me too. Isn’t it great?”

“Not in the morning it won’t be. Especially when we have sprints at seven o’clock.”

Jon threw me a can of beer, and I popped it open. “We’re this far gone, let’s have one more.” He opened his can and held it up in salute.

I saluted him back with a belch. My phone buzzed, and I read the screen with one eye closed. I found closing the one eye steadied my eyesight when I was inebriated. “Christ. It’s Steph again.”

Jon sat up in his recliner. “Steph’s been calling?”

I tossed the phone to the side. “Only since she heard I might go pro.” Stephanie Romley had been my on-again, off-again high school girlfriend. We were mostly off, leaving me plenty of time to hook up with interested females, but Stephanie and I tended to go to dances and other important events together. We were in the Homecoming Court from freshman to senior year and Prom King and Queen. We were never anything serious, but she was hot, easy, and wild as fuck. Now that she got wind of my money and fame potential, she was up my ass sideways.

“Gold digger. Seriously though, you’re gonna have to be on the lookout for users. Girls are going to do anything they can to get with you in hopes of becoming an NFL trophy wife.”

I took a long gulp of my beer. “I’m not the smartest, but even I can see through that plan. Never gonna happen.”

Jon grabbed a handful of corn chips and shoved them in his mouth. How the hell was that guy still hungry? Sure, we burned a ton of calories each day in football, but Jon was always eating. Non-fucking-stop. I think he’d polished off twenty pierogies at dinner, and that was nasty no matter how good my mama made them.

“You can still lose it all. Look at Landon,” he mumbled around half-chewed chips.

I sat up, placing my beer on the coffee table, and rubbed my eyes with the palms of my hands. “You don’t think that runs through my head all the time? Jesus, man. He fucked up so big. He could be sitting here with us right now.” I slammed back the last of my beer. “But he chose a girl over football at IU with you and me. I would never be that dumb. I’d never lose my career over a chick.”

“Bros before hoes.” Jon laughed.

And football above all.

***

I RAN MY fingers through my wet hair. Mission accomplished. I didn’t puke after my workout this morning, and that was achieved by pure luck. I felt like dog shit when I woke up, but luckily Damian did not. Coach said he did fine during his interview, which for Coach was a rave review.

Yes, Coach had told me football first, but I had a few vices. Number one was beer with the boys. As long as he never found out, what was the harm? I survived the workout and had time to grab a shower before my nine o’clock American Studies class.

American Studies.

The class was total bullshit, but if I could get an A analyzing
How I Met Your Mother
and
Survivor
, then I was all in.

I walked up the steps to Ballantine Hall and felt a tap on my back. I looked over my shoulder.
Leslie.
Tall, blond, curvy, and
flexible
. Leslie made last Thursday night beyond good for me.

“Hey, handsome,” she purred into my ear, and my lonely dick stirred to life.

Vice number two were girls just like Leslie. Ones that eagerly told me their name and wanted nothing more than to call mine out at night—because of what we did together in bed. That’s all.

I turned to face her, and she pressed up against me, wrapping her arms around my waist. I rested my hands on her hips. “Hey, yourself.” That was enough small talk for the lovely Leslie as she moved her lips against mine, slipping her tongue in before I had a chance to take control of the kiss. I wasn’t a fan of girls who shoved their tongue in my mouth, but at least Leslie knew what she was doing.

I pulled away, and she stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Don’t be mad, sugar,” I whispered into her ear. “I’ve got a class now, but I could always meet up with you later. Text me.” I bit the lobe of her ear, and she moaned. Loudly.

I heard a snort—one that sounded oddly indignant—and looked to my side to see who it came from. A redhead was walking up the stairs with her eyebrows raised high on her face.
Is that my waitress? Red? And what the fuck was that look for?
I opened my mouth to ask her just that, but lovely Leslie took that moment to give her parting farewell by re-inserting her tongue. I kissed her for another minute, and when I looked behind me, Red was gone.

“Bye, sugar.” I kissed Leslie’s cheek and ran into my class as the professor started her presentation.

For the life of me I couldn’t concentrate. The subject was a damn television sitcom, and I still couldn’t focus. Red’s condescending look when she saw me with Leslie had my blood boiling.
Who the fuck does she think she is?
The princess thought she was too good for me. Her daddy probably warned her off football players. Or was she just playing hard to get?

I couldn’t let it go, and that irritated me further. This was stupid. I could get any girl I wanted on campus. Why did Red’s rejection piss me off?

As soon as the professor ended class, I grabbed my backpack and charged out the door. I headed straight for the diner. I didn’t know her schedule, but I knew I wouldn’t calm down until she told me why she disliked me without even knowing me.

Maria’s was empty. A few customers sat with cups of coffee, but I supposed ten fifteen in the morning on a Wednesday wasn’t prime time for meals.

“Excuse me?” I asked a petite woman with gray hair and tiny wire glasses, who sat on a stool at the hostess stand. “Can you tell me what time the waitress with red hair will be working?”

The woman’s mouth flattened into a line. She narrowed her eyes and studied me. “What’s her name?”

Shit.
Wasn’t that the question of the week? “I’m not sure.” I held my breath hoping I sounded relaxed when inside I was geared up like a champ.

“If you don’t know her name, I’m not telling you anything about her.”

The woman looked back at her newspaper, and I groaned. “Seriously?”

She snapped her head up and pointed a pencil at my face. “I’ll tell you what’s serious, boy—that girl. She’s as serious as they come. She’s also the best person I know, so I’m warning you right now to back off. If she doesn’t want anything to do with you, then stay the heck away. You are not what that girl needs right now.”

A knot formed in my stomach at her words.
I wasn’t what she needed right now? What did that mean? Who didn’t need to relax and have a little fun?
I stared at the woman for a beat and then headed back out the door.

I left with more questions than answers. I was less pissed but decidedly more determined. I was going to figure out Red and find out exactly what it was that she did need.

Chapter Four

Grace

CRAP.
I WAS late. I couldn’t afford to be late. I ran faster, holding on to my bag of food from Sylvie. I was gasping for air as I ran into the doors of IU’s Early Education Center.

“Hi, Grace!” One of my favorite faces, a smiling round one with bright pink glasses bounded up to me.

“Hey, Amy! How was Finn today?” Amy hooked a thumb over her shoulder, and I looked where she was pointing to see Finn sitting cross-legged on the multicolored rug stacking blocks.

“He was great. He always is.” Amy grinned again. “How are you today?”

“Hanging in there. I have a bunch of homework tonight, so it’ll be a late one.” The longest part of my day was yet to come. Dinner, bath, stories, bedtime, cleanup, and then I could start my homework. Balancing Finn, a job, and classes left no time for anything else.

“Need any help? I can come over to play with Finn while you work.” Amy’s normally happy face was concerned. She had been the teacher’s aide in Finn’s preschool and daycare class last year and this year. She was one of the most caring, gentle, and responsible people I had ever met.

“You know, I might take you up on that. I have a huge paper due in a few weeks. The only problem is, I don’t have a car to pick you up.” I could feel my face burn. I didn’t pity my situation, but saying the words out loud made the realization that much more intense. I couldn’t afford a car payment or insurance. Finn and I walked or took the bus.

“My parents and I live super close to campus. Mom can drop me off.” Amy walked over to Finn’s cubby and gathered his lunch bag and tote. Her father was a visiting professor at IU, so she told me her parents had rented a house in a neighborhood close to the university. “Remember,” she handed the bags to me, “I got a daycare certificate for the work-study I did at Clemson.” Amy pointed to a framed document on the wall, her smile beaming.

She should feel proud. Amy had been born with Down syndrome. It was rare for any person with intellectual disabilities to leave home and live on a college campus. Amy had done just that for two years. Once she completed her schooling, she was able to assist in early childhood classrooms.

“How did you learn about the work-study at Clemson University?” I asked, watching Finn play on the rug.

Amy shifted closer to me. “I never told you about that?”

I shook my head. Her smile turned proud as she pulled out a chair and sat at the craft table. “My senior year of high school I was an aide for the new, young teacher at my school. Miss Harris—I call her Emma now—was good to me. She talked to me and my parents about a program at Clemson for people just like me.”

I had looked up her program at Clemson, curious why IU didn’t have one like it. Clemson’s curriculum was incredible. During the two-year course, life skills and job training were taught to individuals with developmental disabilities.