Breaking Mr. Cane (Cane 2)

Being nosy, I walked a little closer to get a better view. They mostly looked like upperclassmen. Normally, I would have walked the opposite direction of a crowd like theirs, but there was something about this one that intrigued me.

From my distance, I assumed they were athletes, by their toned builds and easygoing demeanors, but they weren’t boisterous or obnoxious. They appeared to be having fun, but were subtle about it. The music wasn’t so loud that they couldn’t hold a conversation. Though most of them were half-naked, everyone appeared comfortable with the next person. Now that I could really hear it, the music wasn’t even party music. It was more like soulful lounge music.

“Hey! You gonna join the group or are you just gonna to stand here and watch?” A deep voice spilled over my shoulder and I gasped, spinning around to face him. A boy, tall and broad and chiseled, gave me one of the whitest, straightest smiles I’d ever seen as I clutched my chest. He threw his hands up in the air almost immediately, saying, “Whoa—sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“Uh—no, no. It’s okay.” I waved my hands. “Just wasn’t expecting your voice.”

“My voice?” He smiled, and when he did, the middle of his cheek sank, creating a deep dimple on his smooth umber skin.

“Yeah, sorry. That was dumb to say,” I laughed. “I just—I meant that I wasn’t expecting anyone to say anything to me at all.”

“Head in the clouds, I presume?” His easy smile transformed to a smirk.

“You could say that.” Honestly, he had no idea. It wasn’t that my head was in the clouds. It was more like my mind was back at home, reminiscing about things that would never happen again.

I looked toward the party, watching as they all sipped from brown cups with green labels on them. “That doesn’t seem like the typical college party.”

“Oh, it’s not. It’s not a party at all, actually.” He took a step closer, and even with the several inches between us, I could feel his body heat. “It’s a mindfulness and peace gathering. Ever heard of that?”

“Um…no, not at all,” I replied with a giggle, but he didn’t laugh with me, which made me feel stupid. “Shit, that was rude. I’m sorry.”

He finally laughed, and it was gruff and deep, creating a stir inside me that I wasn’t so sure I liked. “Nah, don’t be. You’d be surprised by the funny looks I get when I tell people about it.” He tucked the tips of his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. “Its called MPA, which means Mindful Peaceful Athletes. This group started about two years ago. A bunch of the athletes were having the same issues and felt overwhelmed and stressed with juggling academics and sports in their schedules, plus all the traveling and what not. So a chick named Frida Gonzalez, who was a kick-ass volleyball player here, decided to create this new wave. Every Wednesday night, after practice, all of the student athletes who felt overwhelmed or were seeking an escape, would meet in this parking lot, have a sip of this amazing herbal tea her mom would send—because her mom is totally into all that herbal wellness stuff—and we’d do homework on the grass some nights, help each other out if we had the same assignments, or just meditate. Only requirement is bringing your own blanket. Grass gets a little itchy.”

“Wow, that sounds really nice.”

“Yeah. When I first came, I wasn’t all that into it, but my roommate dragged me to it, told me I would really benefit from it. Didn’t turn out so bad. I actually enjoy coming now and I have benefited. It’s little escape for all of us. We work so hard, but being there almost takes away the stress.”

“So they’re drinking tea in those cups? Not alcohol?”

“Yep, tea,” he laughed. “Frida gave a few of the MPA coaches the ingredients. They make the recipe overnight and bring it. It supposedly reduces stress, removes tension from the muscles, and calms the mind. And it doesn’t taste too bad either.” He turned to look at me, his whiskey eyes sparkling from the sun. “You an athlete?”

“Yeah. I play softball. Only here for a one-year ride, though.”

“Hey—and that’s perfectly okay! Notre Dame is tough to get into as it is. I’m Brody, by the way. Brody Hawks. Junior, and Linebacker for the big ND!” He extended an arm.

“I’m Kandy. Kandy Jennings. Pitcher for the big ND,” I laughed and he laughed with me while we shook hands. At least he wasn’t making this awkward.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Kandy Jennings. Takes some getting used to with all the rules they have here, but I think you’ll love it.” His smile was warm and made me feel at ease. “You should join the meeting. It’s not an official one, just a little get-together, but it’ll be a good way to meet new people.”