Changing Forever (6 page)

If you asked me how old I was when I got my pro jerk card out of the cereal box, I wouldn’t have an answer. It came piece by piece … like a puzzle. Every day, it was another chip added to my shoulder. Another problem I had to find a resolution for.

It’s all a weight that’s been building up for years. I don’t have time to step back and think about it too often, but when I do, I’m not happy with the person it’s made me.

One day, I was a kid, who did nothing but ride his bike and play on the small town football team, then suddenly I was left to watch over my mom and two younger sisters. It wasn’t fair, but I had to deal with the hand I was dealt.

I did the best I could, but it never felt like enough. My mom fell apart, and I don’t mean in a slow, predictable kind of way. She used to pack each of us the
perfect lunch every morning, even cutting the crust off our sandwiches, but that all changed suddenly. She became someone who barely came out of her room, and it was hard to understand the reason for that at such a young age.

I still don’t understand why she “left” us, but I try to hold my shit together.
I try to set a good example for my younger sisters. It’s not always easy, though.

I certainly don’t like how I’ve been acting around Emery. I’m an ass, a jerk, a dickhead, whatever you want to call me. She doesn’t deserve my shit, and she didn’t ask to enter the world I created. Not that I really asked for the circumstances of my life to make me this way.

Grabbing my phone from my nightstand, I dial her number, part of me praying she doesn’t answer and the other part hoping she does.
I drank a little more than I intended to last night, and I’m paying for it this morning. My mouth’s dry. My head pounds. I’m not in the mood to study, but I feel like I owe it to her.

“Hello,” she answers in a soft, hesitant voice.

“Hey, Emery, it’s Drake.” I squeeze my eyes shut and run my fingers through my hair. I probably sound like an idiot.

“I know who it is … I just never expected you to actually call.”

I wince. She always says what’s on her mind; I’ll give her that. “I said I would. I’m the honest jerk, remember?”

“Okay, honest jerk. I’ll try to remember that.”

After taking a deep breath, I continue, “Look, I’m sorry about the other day. I was having a bad morning, and I took it out on you.”

Her voice is quiet when she replies. “I understand. It’s just that school and my grades … they’re really important to me.”

“I know,” I say, stopping her. School is her football. I get it.

“I either need to know you’re in this or you’re not. If you’re not, I need to move forward with it on my own.” Her voice is low, sad almost. Like I’ll break something inside her if I don’t help her with this.

As I lay in bed earlier this morning, I decided that I was going to treat this like football. I’m Emery’s teammate, and I’d be a coward to let her down. It’s not about what I want to do or what I don’t want to do. It’s about what’s best for the team.

“I’m in.”

I hear her let out a deep breath. I’ve really been doing a number on this girl’s patience. “Can you get together this afternoon? We really need to pick a topic so we can start researching,” she says, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, that’s why I called actually. Can you meet me in one hour?” I rub the palm of my hand over my tired eyes, trying my best to get myself in good enough shape to study.

“Yeah, I’ll meet you in the coffee shop, but don’t stand me up, Drake. I don’t often hand out second chances.”

Grimacing, I rub my fingers along my forehead. I hate coffee. Actually, hate might not be a strong enough word.

“I’ll be there,” I say hesitantly, hanging up before she has time to change her mind.

I stretch out on my bed again feeling a little bit better about myself. Spending part of my Sunday working on this project won’t kill me … it’s the right thing to do. Unfortunately, the overwhelming smell of stale beer is the only thing hitting my senses at the moment, and a shower is definitely in order before I go anywhere today. I grab a clean pair of jeans from my dresser and a plain gray t-shirt from the shelf in my closet. I’m so fucking glad these things are somewhat in style because they’re all I own. All I can afford actually.

As I walk out of the room and into the hall, I notice the quiet. It’s a nice change from the usual rowdiness that fills the narrow space. If my conscience would allow it, I’d crawl back in my bed and sleep the rest of the day away right along with everyone else.

I shower as fast as my aching head will let me. The hot water feels good on my sore muscles and reminds me that it might not be a bad idea to sit in the sauna later.

After pulling my clothes on and brushing my teeth a couple times to banish any remaining smell of alcohol, I head out to meet Emery. The last thing I want to do is be late for my second chance, because something tells me she was serious about this being my last one.

Fall is starting to move in, and the temps are a little cooler today than they were yesterday. It only takes me a few minutes to find the coffee shop, and surprisingly, I’m ten minutes early. I guess that’s better than the alternative, given my current standing with Emery. The place is packed, leaving only one chair at the bar open, which won’t work at all. I stand against the wall just inside the door, waiting for Emery before making any decisions on what to do next.

Luckily, she’s not far behind me, appearing in the doorway a couple minutes later with an oversized bag over her shoulder. She looks so fucking hot in tight jeans and a fitted black t-shirt. I think her simplicity separates her from other girls, and I guess simple is sexy.

“Hey,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. I’ve noticed she does that a lot.

“Hey,” I answer back, shoving my hands deep in my pockets. “I couldn’t find a table. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

She smiles, glancing over her shoulder and out the window. “Why don’t we grab our drinks and go sit out by the river?”

I pull my hand from my pocket and rub it along my jaw. What she’s proposing sounds nice, but it also sounds a little too cozy for me. I don’t do cozy well.

“Lots of people study outside,” she adds, adjusting the strap of her bag. Her eyes brighten as she shifts her gaze between me and the window. How am I supposed to say no to her and those big brown eyes?

“I guess we’re going out by the river then,” I say, placing my hand on her lower back to guide her to the counter. I don’t realize I’m doing it until we’re halfway to the register, but then I can’t let go. It feels better than I’d ever admit.

My hand drops away when we stop at the end of the line. “What are you going to get?” she says, glancing back at me.

“I don’t know. I can’t stand the taste of coffee.”

She points her painted purple nail up to the menu board. “I bet the smoothies are good. I haven’t had one, but I notice lots of people ordering them.”

“Yeah, I’ll give that a try. What do you want? I’m buying.”

She looks back at me, her eyes wide. My offer is obviously a surprise to her, but have I really been that much of an ass? “You don’t have to do that.”

I lean in close, my chest hitting her back. “It’s just a drink, Emery. Don’t argue with me about this. Besides, I think I owe you.”

“You don’t, but because I’m not in the mood to argue, I’ll take a medium iced mocha with no whip,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s stubborn, but I like the challenge.

I step back to give her some space, but I’m still close enough to smell her perfume. I usually can’t stand the stuff, but hers reminds me of strawberries with a hint of vanilla. It’s sexy with a side of sass but not too overpowering. From what I know about her so far, it suits her perfectly.

“Next,” the barista calls, waving me forward.

Stepping up to the counter, I order and pay for our drinks. They don’t ask for my name, but it must not have been a secret because a couple minutes later it’s called, and our drinks are placed on the end of the counter. After handing Emery her coffee, we walk outside and start toward the water.

This is my second year here, and I’ve never once taken the time to just sit outside. It’s hard to think about that kind of stuff when I rarely have free time. Every extra minute I have is devoted to football … my dad taught me how to live and sleep it.

“You’re kind of quiet over there,” Emery says, interrupting my thoughts.

“So you Googled me?”

“What?” she asks, nervous laughter escaping her.

“The other day in class … you knew I played football.”

“Oh yeah,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t think I could work with you if I didn’t know who you were, did you?”

“I didn’t expect anything less from you.”

She stops about fifteen feet from
the river and pulls a flannel blanket out of her bag. No wonder that thing was so full. “Does this spot look okay?”

I scan the area, making sure there’s no one I recognize. It’s not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with her … I just don’t want anyone to draw conclusions. A guy and a girl alone on a blanket just screams couple, especially around here. Because of who I am, it would cause a breaking news flash across campus. “This’ll work.”

When I look in her direction again, her lips are pursed around her straw, one arm crossed over her chest. “Is there a problem, Chambers?”

My lips quirk; I can’t help it. “Just making sure no one sees me with you. I don’t want to ruin your reputation.”

She rolls her eyes, letting her bag fall down her arm. “I don’t think I have one to ruin.”

“No, you have one … you just don’t know it because it’s not that exciting.”

“What makes you say that?” I watch as she lowers herself to the blanket, crossing her extended legs in front of her.

I join her, sitting down a couple feet away. “Because I’ve never heard of you.”

She runs her fingers through the grass, pulling a few pieces from the ground. I wonder what she’s hiding in her eyes because she won’t look at me. “It’s still better than a bad reputation,” she finally replies.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The air between us is quiet as we both focus on the murky water. The berry smoothie I picked up in the coffee shop isn’t too bad … if anything, it’s keeping me busy while Emery’s thinking about something else. Usually, I could care less what others have going on inside their head, but this girl is so fucking hard to read. It makes me that much more curious.

“What are you thinking about over there?”

She pulls the straw from between her lips, and glances up into the sky. “It’s really nice out here.”

“That’s all?” I ask, raising my brow. Her large, almond-shaped eyes squint against the sun. I focus on them … they’re hard to ignore.

She clears her throat. “Speech topics. Do you have any ideas?”

“Honestly, the only thing I know is football. The only thing that interests me is football,” I say, running my fingers through my hair.

She tilts her head in my direction, narrowing her eyes. “Seriously, Drake?”

“Seriously. I don’t have time to learn anything else.”

“Yeah. What did you do last night?”

“Went to the post-game party.”

She nods, sucking the last of her drink through her straw. “We could do it on teenage drinking.”

She has got to be fucking with me. That’s one of the most overdone subjects ever … I don’t want to take part in beating something that is already dead. “First of all, I’m twenty. Second, I’d rather give a speech than preach,” I say as I set my empty cup on the ground and wrap my arms around my folded knees.

“What if we do nature versus nurture? I’ve read about it before, and it’s really interesting.”

“How about cars?”

Her lips press into a thin, tight line. If looks could kill, I’d be flat on the floor without a heartbeat right now. “Really?”

“No, I was just playing, but the look on your face was totally worth it.” I pause long enough to watch her roll her eyes. “Tell me a little bit more about this nature versus nurture. Why do you want to do it?”

She glances around uneasily, wetting her pink lips. “Because I’m proof that nature is just as strong as nurture.”

I’m so fucking lost. “What?”

She surveys the grassy area behind us before continuing. “I grew up with my dad, but I’m a lot like my mom. Most of my characteristics and behaviors mirror hers.”

I nod, waiting for her to go on. There’s sadness in her eyes. One I don’t often see in others. It makes me want to know more.

“She was a dreamer. I’m a dreamer. She was a fighter, and I always have my boxing gloves on.” A faint smile highlights her face. I think I’ve already seen her with her gloves on, and she knows how to use them.

“Did you see your mom at all growing up?”

She nods, staring down at her hands. “Until I was four, and then one other time after that.”

This little glimpse into who she is has me seeing a whole new side of her. She’s not perfect. She hasn’t lived a perfect life. She’s got her shit, just like I have mine.

I’d like to argue that we both show more nurture than nature. Stubborn. Difficult. It’s a product of what our parents did to us, not what they gave us.