Spiked

It was almost midnight when I realized I’d fallen asleep. I blinked awake and sat up straight in the camp chair I’d drifted off in. It took me a moment to realize what woke me up— Piper and Kiersten talking, loudly. I turned my head to look inside. I could see my roommates at the door, but whomever was on the other side was still out of my line of sight.

“Look, let’s just go out and get a drink. Take your mind off everything,” Piper was saying brightly.

The person at the door must have replied, because Piper paused for a moment, then said, “Well, then maybe we just go back to Football House for a little while. Relax?” It was clear what she meant by “relax”— sex, and lots of it.

The person at the door said something else, and Kiersten jumped in. “I’m serious, she’s asleep. Besides, we’re way more fun. Come on—“ she stepped forward, into the doorway, and out of my line of sight.

I rose, curious, and slid the screen door open. Piper’s eyes flicked my way, and they were furious— so furious that they confirmed who I suspected was on the other side of the door.

“Sasha,” Jacob Everett said when I came into his view. “Come on. Let’s go out.” There was so much arrogance in his voice, the cocky smile. Did he seriously think he could ignore me for weeks, then show up and have me leap into his arms?

“They were right. I was asleep. Another time,” I said stiffly.

“See? Come on. Let’s you and me go,” Piper said gleefully, and took Jacob’s hand. Jacob smiled at her, but shook his head.

“I’m really here to see Sasha right now, Piper. But we’ll catch up later?”

Piper smiled through a stiff breath, then nodded. “Sure.” She looked between me and Jacob for a minute, then added, “Watch out though. Sasha’s PMSing so bad right now.”

Kiersten laughed and I flushed— both because I was not PMSing and because arguing that I wasn’t would only make it look like I was.

“I’ll be careful,” Jacob said. “Sasha?”

“I’m really not interested,” I repeated.

Piper and Kiersten went still, like they couldn’t believe what was happening. When they looked away from Jacob for a moment— a half second, he mouthed “please.” His eyes were stern— hardly begging— but intense nonetheless. I knew he wasn’t going to say the word aloud— wasn’t going to let Piper and Kiersten see him like that. But I also knew that him mouthing it to me, letting ME see him like that, his being here, his coming here, meant that he needed me in a way I couldn’t help feel mowed down by.

I wasn’t going to have sex with him again, but what could it hurt to just talk?

“Let me get my shoes,” I said.

Me and Jacob walked down the steps of my apartment, but when I tried to turn to walk toward the campus, Jacob put a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“I can’t go that way. I thought we’d drive somewhere,” he said.

“Why?” I asked, keeping my voice clipped— I wanted to make sure he understood I was still mad at him for seemingly forgetting I existed.

“There are reporters and fans and general psychos all around my apartment right now. If they hear I’m on campus they’ll run us down.”

“Why?” I repeated.

“The game today. The choices I made, the injury, I just—“

“Oh! Are you alright?” I asked. I’d been so caught up in the surprise of his arrival, with Piper and Kiersten, that I’d forgotten what happened at the game entirely.

Jacob exhaled and looked toward the parking lot, then shook his head. “We need to go somewhere else,” he said firmly. “Come on. My car’s right there.”

I glanced back toward her apartment, then nodded, albeit a little reluctantly— being somewhere alone with Jacob made me distrust myself. As hurt as I was that he’d abandoned me so unceremoniously, I had to admit that even now, the idea of touching him, of him touching me, was more than a little arousing.

Jacob led me to his car— or rather, not his car. “People know what I drive. This is Greene’s,” he said when I sat down in the hatchback that definitely did not reflect the Jacob Everett I knew.

“It’s seriously that bad?” I asked.

Jacob backed out of the parking spot and we started down the street. “I made a stupid choice today. I was trying to power through, I figured I’d just tweaked my shoulder…”

“Is it serious? The injury, I mean?” I asked. “It looks like you’re moving fine.”

“It’s wrapped up under my shirt,” Jacob said. “It’s a partial rotator cuff tear.”

“And that’s bad?”

“That’s huge. For a football player it might as well be cancer,” Jacob said flatly.

“Wait, seriously?” I asked, stunned.

Jacob licked his lips and guided the car through the city, toward Ansley Park— a neighborhood very much not on the campus, but full of houses and townhouse that cost an amount I couldn’t even understand. We’d pulled into the drive of one of the townhouse and parked before Jacob spoke again.