Another chapter! I'm still not sure if I'm going to continue this, but some of you asked for another update so I decided to post one. Enjoy :)
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As the assistant trainer, I was required to attend all of the football practices. There were multiple trainers, each designated to watch over a specific sport, including every practice, scrimmage, and game. Luckily for me, I was placed with Sandra and the football team at the start of the season my freshman year.
I've always loved football. I suppose I was bred into my love for the sport, seeing as my father used to be the head coach for my high schools team back in North Carolina. I was raised with a strong head on my shoulders and the belief that beer and football are all a person needs in life. You can thank my dad for that.
"Damn it, McCall, catch the damn ball! Peterson is throwing a perfect pass!" Coach Baxter shouts across the field.
I look up and see Trevor jogging over to the ball that he failed to catch, his head hanging low. My gaze grazes the rest of the field, watching the other players as they went about their drills. My eyes land on the fifty yard line at the exact time that Vincent launches the ball down the field in a flawless pass, thirty five yards closer to the end zone.
Max catches Vincent's pass and let's out a holler of victory as he runs it into the end zone. I glance back at Vincent and see him smirking, an air of confidence surrounding him as he stands at the fifty yard line. I want to roll my eyes at him, or shake my head, but don't waste my energy. Guys like Vincent were better off being ignored than indulged in.
"Good pass, Bradshaw." Coach praises reluctantly.
I smirk. Coach understood how large Vincent's ego was just as well as I, and he was reluctant to admit when Vincent did something right. To be fair, Vincent bothers Coach with more issues than just his ego. His poor grades, reputation, and manners kept him from playing in games sometimes, and more times than not, result in a loss for the team.
I look back down at the notes I was reviewing for my biology class, trying to memorize the cells and their specific functions. Unfortunately for me, I was failing. Miserably. As a student studying physical therapy, you would think that I was good at all things science, especially when it had direct correlation with body parts. Well, you'd be wrong.
The shrill sound of a whistle distracts me further from my studying, or lack thereof, and I hear Coach Baxter shout: "Alright boys, that's it for today. Hit the showers!"
A defeated sigh left my lips. At the start of practice, I vowed that I would know everything I needed to know about the cells by the end, and I had only managed to memorize a quarter of what I was supposed to. I begin to pack up my notes and throw them into my bag, then sling my bag around my shoulders, ready to leave.
"Lil, wait!" I hear Trevor call.
I turn toward the field and see the football players trudging off, slumped and exhausted, probably dying in their thick football pads underneath the hot sun. Trevor jogs to the sidelines holding his helmet in his hand, and uses his free hand to rake through his sweaty mop of hair.
"What's up?" I greet, my eyes scanning his body for any injuries. "Did you pull something?"
Trevor cracks a grin and shakes his head. "Nah, nothing like that. I wanted to know if you were going to come out tonight."
My gaze snaps back up to his and I shake my head. "No, I wasn't planning on it."
"But Sig Ep is throwing their kickass Hawaiian party," Trevor whines, as if he's trying to convince his parents to let him go. "Come on, Lil, have some fun for once."
I hear a scoff, and don't even have to glance up to see who it is before I hear Vincent's obnoxious voice. "Do you know who you're talking to?" I turn to glare at him, but he ignores me and raises his eyebrows at Trevor. "That chick wouldn't know fun if it hit her in the face."
I narrow my eyes at Vincent, who had stopped to stand beside Trevor. "'That chick' is standing right here, and I know how to have fun."
Vincent finally looks at me, as if realizing for the first time that Trevor was talking with me and not about me. "Is that so?"
There was a stupid smirk on his lips that I wanted so badly to smack off, but I knew Coach wouldn't approve of me physically assaulting his players, so I had to refrain. Instead I glared at him as he stood there with his helmet tucked under his arm, sweat lining his forehead, his hair sticking in every which way from the wetness.
And even though I detest parties, even though I can't stand a bunch of sweaty people stuck together in one room, even though I would rather off myself than hang out with a bunch of dumb frat boys in my free time, my insatiable urge to prove Vincent wrong makes me say the most idiotic five words of my life.
"I'll come to the party," I tell Trevor confidently.
He grins widely, reaching to ruffle my hair. "Awesome! I'll see you there tonight, Lil."
I give him a smile as he walks away, but it drops the second I turn my attention to Vincent. He's smirking at me like I'm bluffing and only he can tell, and my smile turns to a scowl in seconds.
"I'll believe it once I see it," Vincent remarks cockily, and then follows Trevor toward the locker rooms.
I want to scream profanities at him while explaining, in detail, just how much he sucked as a person, but I was stopped by one of the boys on the team. Max asked me to fix up the tape on his knee that had peeled off as a result of the ridiculously hot day, so I clamped my mouth shut and nodded my head. As I tended to Max, though, all I could think about was how sweet it would be when I proved Vincent Bradshaw wrong.
• • •
"You did what?" Jane, my roommate, questions when I recount the events of practice to her.
I groan, falling back on my bed. "I told Trevor and Vincent I'd go to the stupid Gamma Alpha Beta party."
Jane snorts and corrects, "It's Sig Ep."
"Whatever," I mutter. "It's still stupid."
"If you think it's stupid, then why are you going?" I can practically hear her eye roll when she asks the question.
I sit up again and defend, "Because I want to prove the guys wrong. I have fun."
"Reading a whole book in one night isn't fun," Jane points out, and when I pout at her, she grins. "Well I, for one, am absolutely thrilled you want to go out. I've been trying to get you to come to parties with me since last year!"
I don't listen to what she says, because I'm too busy thinking about her first claim. "Reading is fun!"
Jane laughs at me, shaking her head as she realizes that I'm not listening to her. "Right. Since you don't have any going out clothes-"
"How do you know I don't have any going out clothes?" I fire back.
She gives me a blank look. "Do you?" Sheepishly, I shake my head, and she smirks. "As I was saying, I'm going to be your stylist tonight then. We only have..." she looks at the time on her phone and nods. "Three hours."
I roll my eyes at her dramatic tone. "We have plenty of time."
Jane rolls her eyes at me. "That's what you think. So, black or red?"
I spend the next hour and a half trying on clothes for Jane and trying to make a case as to why I needed a longer dress, or higher neckline, or more material. Unfortunately, I lost in the end, because she shoved me into a two-sizes-too-tight crop top with a deep neckline and flowers that somewhat resembled the Hawaiian theme, and high waisted shorts so short that they rode up my butt. Jane even tried to get me to trade in my converse for heels, but that's where I drew the line.
"No way am I wearing those," I said fiercely, shaking my head. "I will fall on my face."
Begrudgingly, she let it go, and I grinned when I got away with pairing the outfit with white high top converse. The next half hour was spent sitting on the edge of my bed while Jane put all kinds of makeup on my face that I don't normally wear. She explained what some of it was and how to use it, but I tuned her out. All a girl needs is mascara and maybe concealer and you'll be on your way. I had no interest in learning how to use a pencil to draw my eyebrows on my face.
Jane spends the next half hour after my makeup is done curling my hair so it fell in big, loose ringlets around my head. She refused to let me catch my reflection in a mirror until she was truly finished, and the second she set the curling iron down, she grinned widely. Her eyes studied me for a long moment, examining her work, before she finally clapped her hands and squealed.
"You look amazing!" Jane squeaked through a wide grin. "Look, look!"
She ushered me toward our full body mirror, and when I look at my reflection, I'm not sure it's really me. I mean, I look good. I usually wear jeans and a t-shirt, and this was far from that. The crop top was so tight that it clung against the curves of my chest, and then ended two inches above the short shorts to reveal a sliver of tan skin. The simple silver necklace with a small 'L' dangled around my neck like it always did; perhaps the only thing about me that looked the same.
I tugged the shirt to try to cover my chest more, seeing as the deep neckline left little to imagination, but Jane swatted my hands away and told me to leave it. I look different, that's for sure, but it was a good different. I think. I smirk a little at myself in the mirror, imagining what Vincent's face will look like when I actually show up to the stupid frat party.
"Thank you, Jane," I say with a genuine smile, looking at her through the mirror.
She grins back widely. "I feel like a proud mom," Jane glances at her phone and her eyes widen. "Okay, my turn!"
With a speed and precision that I'm impressed by, Jane changes into a tight floral dress and wedge heels, straightens her jet black hair until its perfect, and puts on her makeup. I'm not sure why she even wears so much, considering she's one of the prettiest girls I know.
Jane Donovan was stunning, and without a doubt, she knew it. She had a minor boy obsession and absolutely loved playing with them just to see how much power she can hold over them. There are plenty of boys on campus who fawn over Jane every day.
And despite the fact she's my complete opposite, we get along perfectly. Where I lack, she oozes, and vice versa. She knows everything about me, including my brothers state of health and the story of my father, and she's never not been there for me.
"So," Jane finally steps away from the mirror and spins. "How do I look?"
"Flawless, as always," I answer honestly.
She giggles. "Why, you don't look so bad yourself, Lily. Let's get going."
I nod and grab my phone, casting one more look at the stranger in the mirror before heading out the door. We walk to the elevator and wait while Jane tells me about Marco, her latest conquest on the soccer team, and I give a supportive head nod and the occasional "yeah" to show her that I was listening... Which I wasn't.
I was too busy freaking out about the party. Was it too late to turn back? Did I really care if Vincent was right? My eyes narrowed subconsciously at myself as I fiercely answered my own question: yes, I cared, and I was going to prove him wrong. So, merely fueled by the strong urge to prove a point to Vincent Bradshaw, I made my way to the party.
The frat house was easy to spot. We had to take the bus toward the end of campus, where all the Greek life was, and it was impossible to miss. After all, there were people littered on the lawn outside among the countless beer cans and red cups, not to mention the music blaring from inside the large building.
I hesitated outside, glancing at the stumbling party goers, the Greek letters on top of the house, the bright multicolored lights flashing inside, and took a deep breath. Then, Jane put her hand in mine and tugged me forward, giving me an encouraging smile before we walked through the front door.
It was chaotic. People were dancing everywhere, grinding on each other in the middle of the room, pressed against each other groping one another shamelessly, and I think I even saw a group of guys screaming "fight!" to my right. Jane pulled me along, weaving in and out of people as if she's been here hundreds of times.
When we reached the semi-safety of the kitchen, she dropped my hand and went over to the keg. "Do you want a drink?"
I nodded, sure that a drink or two would calm my nerves. "Yes, please."
Jane poured me a cup of beer and then herself before walking over to me with a stern expression. "Okay Lily, there are some rules tonight. Are you listening?"
I reached for my drink, but she pulled it away from my reach and gave me another look. I frowned and nodded, mumbling, "Yes mom."
She ignored my comment and nodded. "One: don't take a drink from anyone or leave your own drink unattended. Hold onto your drink at all times, and if you leave it somewhere, just get yourself a new one. Two: keep your phone on vibrate at all times so if we get separated, we can find each other easily. And three: don't drink too much, okay? This is your first frat party. Guys here will take advantage if they see a drunk girl, so be careful."
"Okay, that sounds easy enough," I tell her, amused at the mom role she was suddenly taking on. That was usually my job.
"Good," She nods. "Now, let's review the rules."
"Don't take drinks from strangers or leave mine unattended, keep my phone on vibrate, and don't be a drunk mess," I recite easily.
Jane grinned at me and finally handed over my cup. "I think you're ready."
I flash her a smile as I eagerly take the drink from her hands, and then put it to my lips to let the cool liquid slide down my throat. Jane tipped hers back as well, finishing her drink, and then refilled her cup.
I watched with raised eyebrows and pointed out, "Rule three, remember?"
She rolls her eyes. "The rules don't apply to me. I've got partying down to a science." And then, she drinks half of her drink before her eyes land on the doorway and she grins widely at me. "Let's go dance!"
Before I can tell her that I definitely do not dance, Jane is bounding towards the other room, following the bass of the music. I sigh and follow after her, trying to focus on her jet black hair in the crowd of people. She slips into the crowd while some guy steps in front of me, stumbling past with an equally as intoxicated girl on his arm. When they move, Jane is nowhere in sight.
I sigh again and take another sip of my drink, my eyes surveying the room. There was a DJ in the corner of the room surrounded by tall speakers, people dancing on tables that were pushed against the walls of the frat house, and- is that Trevor? I spot his recognizable grin and can practically hear his booming laughter from across the room and make my way toward him.
As I'm pushing through throngs of people, I see that Trevor is surrounded by some of the other football players. I can see Max, Andrew, Jake, and Wallace laughing heartily at something that Trevor said while I step into the circle. Andrew sees me first and grins widely, pushing past the guys to pick me up in a bone crushing hug.
"Lil! You came!" Andrew exclaims happily, his words slurring a tiny bit.
I just muttered, "Andrew... Can't... Breathe..."
He drops me immediately, setting me on the ground carefully, and smiles sheepishly. "Sorry, Lil, sometimes I forget how small you are."
I shoot him a grin and then get engulfed in someone else's arms. The smell of booze heavily fills my nostrils as I hug him back, and when he pulls away, I see Trevor is the culprit, giving me a lopsided grin.
"I'm happy you came, Lily," Trevor tells me, and then slugs his arm around my shoulders and looks at the guys. "Everyone, Lily is here!"
Max rolls his eyes. "We can see that, Trev." Then he turns to me and grins. "Hey Lily."
"Hey Max," I greet happily, finally at ease after finding people I actually know.
"What are you doing here?" Wallace asks, and when Andrew hits his shoulder and glares at him, he widens his eyes as he realizes his mistake. "Not in a bad way, I just don't usually see you out."
I open my mouth to say I just wanted to come with my friend Jane, fully planning on not telling them that it was a petty war waged between Vincent and I, but Trevor beats me to it. "She's trying to prove to Bradshaw that she can have fun."
The guys laugh heartily and, instead of getting embarrassed, I just grin at them. I suddenly feel a rough push in my back, and feel myself stumbling forward as a result of the shove. Luckily, Jake grabs my arms and balances me before I can fall to the ground, and I shoot him a thankful smile as I regain my composure. Andrew steps forward with his face twisted in a scowl, and grabs the guy who pushed me by the collar.
The guy's eyes widened as he stared back at the two hundred-something pound man in front of him. Andrew growled, "You just pushed my friend, you asshole. Do you have something to say?"
The guy, fearing for his poor life in front of the meaty linebacker, looks at me and stutters, "I-I'm sorry, it was an accident."
Andrew looks at me over his shoulder and raises his eyebrows. "Do you forgive him?"
I want to laugh, but instead I just nod feverishly, feeling bad for the poor guy. "Yes, Andrew, thank you."
Andrew drops his collar, consequently making the guy fall to the ground before he scrambles up and takes off in the opposite direction. Andrew and Trevor mutter obscenities about the random guy underneath their breaths, calling him a dumbass and saying they should've beaten him up, but I just roll my eyes.
The guys were always like this. Whenever they saw someone accidentally push me in the halls, or side step me, or block my entrance, or anything remotely rude, they get all "big brother" and demand an apology. It was cute, really, how protective they were of me, but I was sure that if I ever tried to get a boyfriend, they would rip his throat out.
Suddenly, a song comes on that I recognize from the radio, and I feel the strongest urge to dance. Looking around at the guys, I say sweetly, "Someone dance with me!"
Andrew says gruffly, "I don't dance."
I pout at him. "Come on, please?" His expression softens, but doesn't break, so I move onto Trevor and grab his arm. "Pretty please, Trev? I really want to dance."
He looks away and mutters, "Stop giving me the puppy dog eyes."
I look around at the group, and all the guys are avoiding my gaze, because they know that they'll cave like they always do. But because nobody is looking at me, I go with a different approach.
"Fine, I'll go find some strange guy to dance with," I muse. "Maybe he'll be too drunk and try to take me to his room, or-"
"Fine!" Trevor cries, cutting me off.
I can't help but jump up and down giddily, flashing a wide grin at him as I grab his hand and drag him toward the dance floor. When we make our way in the middle of the designated dancing section, I drop his hand and feel my hips already swaying to the beat. I feel a little light headed, and can't tell if it's from the drinks or the fact I'm squeezed in a small area with entirely too many people, but I feel good.
Trevor just grins at me and grabs my hand, then spins me in a circle, somehow managing to pull it off despite the masses of people surrounding us. After a few minutes of dancing, Trevor goes to spin me again, and I can't help but laugh as he does so. But this time he miscalculates and spins me into a person, his hand falling from mine as I fall into someone's chest.
Said person grabs my waist to steady me, and my skin feels on fire where I'm being touched. I look up through my lashes, the smile still on my lips from my laughter, but it falls the second I notice who it is holding me. Smirking down at me is Vincent Bradshaw, the very idiot I came here to prove wrong.
"If you wanted me so bad, sweetheart, you should've just asked instead of jumping in my arms," Vincent drawls.
I frown at him and take a step back, shooting back, "I would never want you."
He gives me a once over and rolls his eyes. "The feeling is mutual."
I shake my head and turn around to continue dancing with Trevor, but he's nowhere to be found. I frown in the direction he was just standing, my eyes wandering over the crowd, trying to find his mop of brown hair among all the partygoers.
"I can't believe you actually showed," Vincent says from behind me, and when I turn around, he seems genuinely surprised. "Did someone have to kidnap you to bring you here?"
I narrow my eyes at him and snap, "I came on my own, you asshole. I told you, I know how to have fun."
"Sure," He drawls, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Then why aren't you dancing?"
I raise my eyebrows and scoff, "With you? I'd rather jump off a cliff into an ocean full of blood thirsty sharks."
Vincent laughed outright at this. "What an imagination you have there, sweetheart."
"Stop calling me sweetheart," I snap at him, my eyes narrowing.
To my surprise, Vincent takes a step closer, and I can instantly smell his lemon scent from his closeness. He leans forward, his lips brushing my ear, making a shiver roll down my spine as he whispers, "Why, does it make you nervous?"
My heart rate sped up instantly, and my ear where he touched me felt on fire. I struggled to find words for a witty enough comeback, so I stood there dumbly for a second, unsure why my body was reacting this way. Vincent pulled back a fraction, enough to gauge my reaction, and when he saw it, he leaned back further and laughed heartily at my expense. When I regained composure, I narrowed my eyes at him, feeling a blush creep up my neck.
"You don't make me nervous," I scoff again. "More like nauseous."
Vincent's eyes train on something behind me before he looks at me again like I was merely an insect on the bottom of his shoe. "Like I said, the feeling's mutual. Now if you would excuse me, I found a leggy blonde making eyes at me, and I'm going to go take her home with me."
He tossed me a wink as he passed, and sure enough, when I turned around I saw him approaching a blonde with entirely too much cleavage showing from her shirt, leaving little to imagination. I glared daggers into his back, hoping that some would actually shoot out of my eye sockets and impale him. Maybe then I would finally get some peace.
In the end, I just felt my blood boil, the way I frequently felt after I had an interaction with Vincent Bradshaw.