Page 10 of The Rowdy Ones

Wild, for once, doesn’t run his mouth. He must sense my need for stillness and quiet. I focus on my branch, shaving off the thick bark, sliver by sliver. It gives me something to do and keeps my mind from wandering too far.

“Here,” Wild mutters. “Something to take the edge off.”

I pause from my carving to take the pint-sized bottle of liquor from him. It’s vodka. I don’t drink often, but tonight it’s appealing. With a grunt, I unscrew the lid and swallow down a few fiery gulps. This shit is nasty, but it burns a trail down my throat and settles warmly in my gut. I like that part.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Fair enough.” He sighs heavily. “I’m sorry if being here is fucking you up. I know things were bad last time you lived here.”

“It’s better because you’re here,” I admit, knocking his shoulder with mine. “When you’re not being loud as fuck.”

He snorts out a laugh but then grows serious. “Can I tell you something I haven’t even admitted to myself?”

“Uhhh,” I stammer out, stiffening.

“Dude,” he groans. “We already know I want your dick and you don’t want mine. It’s not about that.”

I relax and nod. “Sorry.”

“I’m coming to terms with it. It’s fine.” He reaches for the liquor bottle and takes a long swig. “I think I’m going to quit college.”

His words are shocking to me. “What? Aren’t you like really good at the football shit?”

“Fuck yeah, I am,” he grumbles. “But I hate everything else about it. I can play football in the yard with my friends. I don’t need to be hours away.” He sighs heavily as he hands me the bottle back. “The thought of starting up classes back up for the spring semester soon makes me sick to my stomach.”

This time when I drink the vodka, the burn isn’t as intense. My muscles aren’t as tight either. Yeah, I definitely like this stuff, especially once you get past the initial disgusting taste.

“Why does it sound like your world is going to end if you quit?” I ask, turning to look at him. “I’m missing something.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I catch him glancing quickly at the house and then back over at me. He’s nervous.

“Mom won’t give a shit. To be honest, she’ll be happy to have me close,” he says with a cocky grin. It melts away as quickly as it came on. “Dad, though, is going to be heartbroken. He fucking loves watching me play. Tells anyone who’ll listen how proud of me he is. All the men in my family are taking bets on which NFL team will pick me up to go pro.”

“Can you just skip the college crap and go right onto doing that?” I ask, frowning. Everything I know about football is what Wild has told me. I’m not exactly sure what “going pro” entails.

He snatches the bottle from me. “See, that’s just it. I don’t want to get picked up by the NFL. Football is fun, but I don’t want it to be my life.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. “What do you want?”

I’m in no position to give career advice. I live off the land with my family. There are no jobs or professional life goals. It’s survival from one day to the next. Takes the stress out of life when you’re focused on hunting your next meal rather than how much your paycheck will be.

“I’m not sure yet.” He shrugs and sighs. “That’s what’s going to suck. If I knew what I wanted to do, I’d have a better case to present to him.”

A buzzing of his phone interrupts us. He pulls it out and smirks.

“What?”

“Found out how we’re going to get out of this depressing slump.” He shows me a picture of a pretty redhead with the poutiest lips I’ve ever seen. It’s almost as if she’s having an allergic reaction from a bee sting or some shit. “Pussy.”

I nearly choke on another swig of vodka. “W-what?”

“Talia here wants to ‘hang,’ which is code for hook up.”

“Whatever happened to Freya? And this involves me how?”

“Freya’s old news, man. Keep up. Talia doesn’t want to tie me down. We’re cool like that. I told her to bring her friends. And that, my cousin, is fuck hot and needs to get laid. That’s how you’re involved being the fuck hot cousin who needs to get laid and all.”