IF SOMEONE TOLD me back before the semester started that on January 2nd, I’d be in Atlanta to watch my boyfriend play in the college football national championship, I’d have demanded to know how I got back together with Darryl.
Instead, I have James.
When I kissed him at that party, I couldn’t have imagined a future where we’d be together. In love with each other. Where I’d be supporting him in the biggest moment of his life so far, my camera slung over my neck because I’m using my student press pass to take photographs during the game.
It might be the biggest moment of my life so far, too.
I just need to get this talk with Darryl out of the way.
It’s probably pointless to try and reason with him, but I can’t help myself. We do have history, even if all he’s been doing is working to sour it at every turn. Maybe there’s something I can say to get through to him once and for all that I don’t want him texting me, or calling, or seeking me out on campus, and I definitely have no plans to get back together with him.
I find him in the hallway near the locker room. There’s still some time before the game, so he’s not in his uniform yet, and he hasn’t put any eyeblack on his cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, which is shorter than the last time I saw him, and gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Did he smile differently when he thought he liked me, or did I just see it in a different light?
“Bexy.”
I sigh. There’s no point in trying to correct him. “Darryl. Are you ready for the game?”
He reaches out and tugs at my press pass. “Oh, shit, look at you.”
I lean back slightly. “You have to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” he says. “Trying to get back my girlfriend?”
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m wearing James’ jersey, and I know it’s not productive right now, but I hope it annoys him. “You gave that up when you cheated on me.”
“And I told you, that was a mistake. Worst mistake I ever made.”
“Good. Tell that to whomever you date next.”
I go to leave, because the longer I stand here the more uncomfortable I get, but like at the Penn State game, he boxes me in. I peer around him nervously to see if anyone is around. It’s a risk, meeting him somewhere James is too, but I wanted to keep it semi-public.
I’m not scared of him; besides that time at the diner, he hasn’t tried to touch me. He’s just not used to losing something he wants, and unfortunately that thing is still me. I give him what I hope is a placating smile, putting my hand on his arm. “Darryl. You don’t want me anymore. Even before I met James, we were broken up.”
“Cut the shit,” he says, that cold, angry note back in his tone. “You dump me and then turn around and immediately start dating him? I love you, Bex. You know how much it hurts to see you together?”
“If you really did, you wouldn’t have cheated on me!” I can’t help my rising voice. “I moved on, and you need to move on too. Stop finding me on campus. Stop coming to where I work. Stop calling me. Just stop.”
“I know you were lying about dating him,” he says.
I force myself not to react, even though his words make me break out in a sweat. The deal James and I made feels so long ago now, but it is how this whole thing started. “What?”
“Maybe you’re not lying now, but you lied to begin with, and you made me look like a fucking idiot.”
I swallow. “I cared about you a lot. I still want you to be happy. But you’re not going to be happy with me.”
He shakes his head. “No. Stop telling me no.”
“Darryl—”
“Break up with him.”
I laugh incredulously. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”
“Break up with him, or I’ll tell everyone the real reason why he left LSU.” He leans in, making my heart jump in my throat. I remind myself that we’re not really alone, that any moment someone will walk by, and that I don’t have to give in to his ridiculous demands just because he thinks he still wants me. I don’t think he ever truly wanted me—just some version of me, a version of the good, supportive girlfriend who loves her football-playing boyfriend. I couldn’t give that to him, but I’ve been giving it to James all season, and now that’s finally catching up to me. “You miss me, baby, I know you do.”
He leans in and kisses me. I don’t move away fast enough, numbly standing there as his words echo around my mind. He deepens it, his hand fisting in my hair, forcing my lips to part for him. Too late, my hands come up to push at his chest, but he’s so much stronger that I can’t make him budge. I stomp my foot down on his instead, as hard as I can, and he breaks away, cursing.
“Fuck, Bex!”
“You’re an asshole!” I cry, trying to keep my voice as quiet as possible in case anyone else is around. “I’m not breaking up with him. You need to back the fuck up.”
He stares at me, working his jaw. The moment he moves—whether that’s to hit me or kiss me again, I don’t know and don’t want to find out—I bolt for the open door across the hallway. I lock myself inside; it looks like some sort of supply closet. I slump against it, blood rushing in my ears, and wipe my mouth.
“Hey, Darryl.”
Fuck. I’d know that voice anywhere.
“Callahan,” I hear him say. “Ready for the game?”
I stop breathing. He sounds totally unaffected by what just happened. At least he’s not about to fight James. But if James realizes what he just did… I can’t even finish that thought. I cross my arms tightly, resisting the urge to throw open the door and burrow into James’ chest. This is exactly the sort of thing I told Richard I wouldn’t bother him with, and if he sees me now, he’ll instantly know that something is wrong.
A sob works its way out of my throat. I cover my hand with my mouth. I’m trembling, tears streaking down my cheeks.
“Yeah,” James says. “Coach is having a talk down in the locker room. It’s almost time to suit up.”
“Let’s go then.”
I listen, body tense, until their footsteps fade.
Then I carefully wipe away the tears and check to see if my mascara still looks okay. It’s nearly game time, after all. I can’t afford to break down now, and I’m not about to give Darryl that satisfaction. And even more importantly, I can’t ruin this game for James.
