Finding My Way (Beaumont 4)

I try to slow down to make this last but she has other ideas. Her legs lock behind my back, giving me a different angle and that’s when I lose it completely and spill into her.

“Shit, Liam,” she whisper screams, throwing me off of her. I slam my face into her pillow, but pull her into my arms. I fucked up, I know this.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I repeat over and over again in her ear.

“We have to be careful, Liam, we can’t get pregnant.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” I say, again. She gets up and goes to the bathroom while I use the tissues from her nightstand to clean up. I lie back in her bed and think about her, plump with my child and smile. It would be a good thing and if it happened tonight, I wouldn’t care. It would be my excuse to get out of Texas and come home to Beaumont. As much as I hate saying it, I hope that we did the unthinkable and created a child because then I’d have no excuse.

Josie comes back and crawls into my arms. I hold her against my chest, my fingers running up and down her bare back. My hand rests on her hip, my fingers splayed out over her abdomen and all I can think about is that I got her pregnant and that thought excites me. Maybe in the back of my mind I knew this was the answer, the solution to my problems. Selfish, yes, but I’d marry her in a heartbeat. She wouldn’t be alone, raising a baby. We’d be a family. I can go to school here and work to support her. I’d make it work.

“What’s going on, Liam?”

I sigh and know I have to tell her. She needs to know that I hate school and it’s when I’m on the stage that, for the first time in a month, I’ve felt really at peace with my life. How can the two things that keep me calm be something she doesn’t understand? I don’t even know if I’ll be able to make her or show her how to grasp what it feels like to play the guitar and sing in front of twenty people or so.

“I hate school, Jojo. I hate the team, the coach, everything. I hate that you’re not there. That Mason’s not there. Everything about the place is sterile and uninviting. It’s a great campus, but I don’t belong there. I made a mistake and now I’m paying the price. Beaumont’s golden boy has fucked up and there ain’t shit I can do about it.”

Josie sits up, resting her head on her hand. Her fingers play with my scruff and if I didn’t know better I’d think she likes it.

“You’re one of the best quarterbacks in the country, Liam. Talk to the coach and find out why you’re not playing.”

I nod, but say nothing. Those aren’t the words that I want to hear from her. Of everything I just said to her she picks up on the football part. I want her to tell me to quit and come home. I want her to tell me that she’ll come back with me because having her there will ease the fucking anxiety I’m feeling every night when I’m alone.

She’s not alone; she doesn’t know what it feels like. She has our crew, our friends. I have nothing but an empty dorm room with bare white walls because I haven’t found an ounce of energy to decorate it. Because decorating makes everything final and this can’t be what I’m destined for. This was not the path and the great American dream. I’m on the high road to Loserville and she’ll be watching me from the sidelines, shaking her head because I fucked up.

“I don’t know, babe.”

“What don’t you know? They recruited you. They wanted you to play. Yes it sucks that Mason pulled a fast one, but it’s not like you guys were a package deal.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say to appease her. “It’s just not what I thought it would be. I don’t know, high school doesn’t really prepare you to be hundreds of miles away from the one you love, does it?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t. But I’m here, you know that and I’ll be coming down soon.”

That’s right, I invited her down for a game, but I don’t want her there, not now. The last thing I want is for her to see me sitting on the sidelines like some has-been. It pains me enough to be there, watching the game unfold in front of me and not be a part of it. I don’t know how I’d cope knowing my girl is in the stands, watching me watch something I can’t be a part of.

I pull her back into my arms and rest my chin on top of her head. I love her so damn much it’s going to be the death of me. I can’t tell her this, of course, because she won’t understand. She’s not under the pressure I am, she only adds to it.

Chapter 24

Josie’s in college now and loving it. I’m resentful. She’s going to parties and having fun while I’m stuck here, sleep walking my way through life. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d tell her to shut up when we’re on the phone because the constant yammering about how much fun she’s having and how she wishes I were there, is too much to take.

I know I shouldn’t feel this way toward her, but I do. I don’t want to hear about all the great friends she’s making or how last night Mason ran for his first collegiate touchdown. That’s all supposed to be me. I’m supposed to be the one she raves about. It’s me who should be having fun and be completely exhausted when we talk. I should be the one having to return her phone calls, not the other way around. When I call her, I want her to answer. I don’t want to leave a message and wait for hours and hours only for me to call back because she hasn’t called.

None of this college experience is going like I thought. My only solace is the open mic nights. I’ve been promoted, if you will, from the five p.m. to the nine p.m. slot. I don’t mind as it gives me a bigger audience to play in front of. Most of these people don’t even know I’m on the football team. How sad is that? I’m here, for the benefit of the Longhorns, and I’m more of a hit in the pub than I am on the football field. Isn’t life grand?

Open mic nights have become my lifeline. I don’t care about my grades or the football team. Hell, I’m not even traveling to away games. I refuse to answer any calls from my dad and the coach won’t take a meeting with me. I’m sitting here wasting away and frankly, I don’t give one shit. Except I hate here. I don’t hate the University of Texas, but here in general. I don’t know anyone and I’m not putting myself out there to make any friends. I can’t be bothered. I wake up, go to class, go to practice, hit the weight room and return to my room where I practice my guitar instead of doing homework. When eight o’clock rolls around I trudge across campus with my guitar on my back and into the student pub where I’ll put on a show. Most of my songs are covers, but I do play one that I wrote, the one for Josie that she didn’t understand.

Girls dance while I play. They don’t just sit around and talk to their friends. They get up and dance in front of me, sometimes with other guys or just with a group of them. I know they’re flirting but I don’t care. The only girl I want to look at me like this is in college hundreds of miles away, not giving a shit about whether or not I’m going to fall apart.

My phone rings and I roll my eyes thinking it’s my father. I should give him credit; at least he’s checking on me, but I have nothing to tell him. He sees the television. He knows I’m not playing. He’ll want to try to fix things and honestly, I don’t know if I want him to. I can get a free education while I’m here. I’m going to need it since the NFL is definitely not in my future now.

I look at the screen and don’t recognize the number. It’s probably a prank or it could be my dad calling from some far off location. This is like buying a scratch-off lottery ticket. You have a fifty/fifty chance that you’re going to win at least something. More often than not, you lose and you go on with your day. I can answer and win a million dollars or it could be my father. Either way, it’s worth the risk.

“Hello?”

“Liam?” I pull my phone away from ear and look again to see if I recognize the number. I don’t, but the woman on the other end sure says my name in a familiar tone.

“Yeah, who’s this?”