On a Wednesday (One Week 2)

I raised my eyebrow. “What?”

“What number do you think you’re going in the draft?” She repeated.

“Hopefully top five, but I don’t get a choice in that.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not really in the mood for a conversation right now.”

“I know that, but I have to make sure that we’re being safe.”

“I have condoms.”

“No, safe in another way.” She stood up and walked toward me, pressing her hand against my cheek. “You’re months away from making millions more than I ever will, and I just want to make sure that this never gets out.”

“Come again?”

“I just submitted a project that is going to gain national attention in the engineering field,” she said. “I want to be sure you don’t say anything about my darker side.”

I never do. “You came onto me, not vice versa.” I was getting slightly confused. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Joanna.”

“Well, Joanna, seems like you have reservations, so let’s just leave and forget this moment ever happened.”

“No, wait. Well, I want to have sex with you.” She ran her fingers through my hair. “Before anyone else finds us.”

I stared at her for a while, tempted, but everything she said before her name gave me pause. The lust-filled look in her eyes was taking on a different meaning, and I couldn’t help but think that her “I just want to make sure that this never gets out,” was more of a threat toward me, than protection for herself.

“What type of engineering project is it?” I asked.

“Oh, it’s super complicated.” Her hands were still in my hair. “I couldn’t possibly explain all the details in a few minutes.”

“Of course, you can.” I gently pushed her hand away. “My teammate had to do it last week when he presented his senior thesis idea. What is it?”

“Um …” Her cheeks reddened. “Lego robots, but they can do a lot more than the typical basic robots.”

“You’re spending thirty-thousand dollars a year in tuition to play with Lego blocks?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Sex now?”

“Sure.” I shrugged. “We can definitely do that, but I need you to text me first.”

“What?”

“Take out your phone,” I said, pointing to her purse. “Then let me give you my number, so you can send me a text that says, I want you to fuck me, Kyle.”

“I’m sorry?” She let out a nervous laugh. “You want me to write a contract?”

“No, I want you to give me consent.”

“Me standing here in front of you means that you have it.”

“I want it in writing.” I kept my eyes on hers.

She looked at me as if I was insane, but I shrugged and pointed to her purse once more.

“If you think I’m the type of girl that’s planning to blackmail you years later, or stir up drama after you get drafted with some crazy lies and allegations, then you’re sadly mistaken. I just want to have sex.”

“Then pull out your phone and send me the text.”

She didn’t make a move.

“Thank you for making things clear for me.” I cut her off and turned around, leaving the bathroom.

I had no desire to be at this party anymore, so I shot my teammates my “See you at practice” signal and made my way through the crowd.

Here or there, other girls blushed and made eye contact, but I wasn’t interested.

I’d watched Grayson get railroaded by a girl’s fake allegations over the summer, never thinking I’d run into someone who would even try to do that shit to me.

Even though the investigation had gone in his favor, for some people, it still wasn’t enough, and I never thought it would force me to change my hooking up approach for the senior year.

When I made it back to my car, I sped off and took a long ride around campus—making myself promise that I would be far more careful with the draft on the line.

By the time I made it home, it was three o’clock in the morning, and Grayson was sitting in front of our living room television analyzing last season’s game film.

I plopped right next to him and took out my notebook.

“Have fun tonight?” he asked.

“Tons.”

“No explicit stories to share?”

“Pass the goddamn pen, Grayson.”

He laughed, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was somewhat right about me having to change my M.O. this year.

Fuck.

Courtney: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

I stepped onto a campus shuttle at the crack of dawn, fresh off an all-nighter in The Pitt News office.

Every banner on the bus bore the words “Blue and Gold is Going #1 Again, Baby!” and I waited to feel a tinge of sadness at not having to recite that cheer for the next few weeks.

Nope.

I felt nothing.

Leaning against the window as we approached Hillman Library, I watched as two of the most prominent athletes—Grayson Connors in football and Jayson Blue in basketball laughed at the corner.

I wasn’t sure how they dealt with all the pressure of knowing that they were going number one in their respective drafts.