Page 88
Story: Guarded By the Goalie
Our professor, oblivious to anything going on, approaches the lectern. “Those were very compelling presentations today.” I seriously wonder how much extra he gets paid to ignore his integrity to babysit these morons and give them a passing grade. I hope it’s a lot. “The final groups will present at the next class.”
We’re dismissed and Eric hangs back. “At least we know the bar for a good grade isn’t set too high.” He watches as the rest of the class files out. “That last one wasn’t even coherent.”
It seems, like me, Eric realized he’s never going to work his way into that group on anything more than a superficial level, and I guess he’d rather get an A on our project than kiss jock ass.
“Yeah we should have this one in the bag,” I agree, tucking my stuff into my backpack. “Do you want to practice one more time?”
He makes a face. “Not really.”
“Same.” I sling the strap over my shoulder. “I’m ready to move on from this class.”
“So listen,” he says on the way out of the room, “my frat is having a New Year’s Eve party after the break if you’re back early. I wanted to invite you.”
“Are you sure about that? You saw what happened in there. I’m still pretty much a pariah on campus.”
“I think everyone, but those Neanderthals have moved past that.”
“You think so?”
He nods. “Seriously. No one else cares.”
Axel has a game on Saturday and neither of us have been going out much, but it may be fun to blow off some end of semester steam. “Okay, I’ll think about it,” I say, then add, “you know this is just as friends, right? I’m seeing someone.”
“I don’t know. I think we’re a little more than friends,” he says, taking me by surprise. “We’re survivors of Communications 204. Never doubt the way it’s bonded us.”
I laugh. “Seriously. We may need a T-shirt.”
“Bring your boyfriend,” he says. “Rakestraw, right?”
My heart flip-flops just at hearing his name. “Right.”
“Just make sure you wear something red or green–that’s the theme.”
“Sounds fun. We’ll try to make it.” I look at my watch. “Shit, I gotta run. I have a shift at work.”
Running late is kind of my thing, but I manage to make through the doors right as my shift starts. “Hey,” I say to Brian who is already working behind the counter. “Is Abby here?”
“Nope. She had a meeting of some kind so you’re in the clear.”
“I’m right on time.” I take off my jacket and then Axel’s hoodie, to reveal my work shirt. “Although, I had to cut through the student center instead of going around it.” I grin. “Saved me five minutes.”
“Unfortunately, all you’re on time for is to go handle a mess someone reported in the spin room.” He holds up a bucket filled with cleaners and rags. “Good luck.”
I wrinkle my nose. In a gym, a ‘mess’ could be anything from spilled water to vomit. Especially after a hard class.
Taking the bucket, I head to the back of the gym, to the room used for spin. There’s no class right now so the lights are off and I push through the unlocked door. Sometimes people come in here and work on their own, but it’s empty.
Or I think it is, until I see the shadow of someone leaning against the instructor’s bike.
“Holy shit,” I exclaim, heart thudding in my ears. “Brent? What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.”
“I don’t know why.” I look around the room searching for a mess. It strikes me then, that there is no mess. This was just a way to get me alone. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“I’ve given you space and time to think about our last conversation.” He straightens and walks toward me. “Now that the football season is over, it’s time to get serious.”
“Look, you had me blacklisted. None of the football, basketball, or baseball teams will acknowledge me. I haven’t been to a party on Greek Row in months. And that’s fine. I accept it. I’ve held up to my end of the deal–not going to the police and you need to hold up to yours by leaving me the fuck alone.”
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