Against the Wall (6 page)

We got back together senior year, only to break up again when we went off to college. It was my turn to sow my oats and get a taste of some college guy ass. Let’s just say I took the opportunity to indulge in a sampler platter of fraternity row. We didn’t get back together until we started our teacher credential program. We ended up at the same school and in the same classes, and spent a lot of time catching up on lost time, in bed. The stretch before grad school was our longest time apart. And even though we had split up so many times throughout our lives, we always remained very close friends.

The last time we reunited, we stayed together for ten years. We got engaged after eight of them. Two years after the engagement, we still hadn’t set a date for the wedding, and Chase backed out. He moved out of our condo, and five seconds later he was playing house with Summer in some over-priced apartment on the other side of town.

Thinking back now, I can see how ridiculous our relationship was. Ten years, and we never got married. Never even set a date. That should say something. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Just thinking about him makes me wish he was here, even with his asshole comments. I hate feeling helpless against his hold over me. Yet, I act like a love sick child at the mere mention of getting back together. I know deep down it’s not going to happen, but just the idea makes me want it more.

And then there’s Matty. I don’t want him to be the guy that helps me get over Chase. Some guy off the streets could fill those shoes and I wouldn’t care. But if, and it’s a big if, I were to ever start something, and I don’t know what, with him, I’d have to be 100% done with Chase. He deserves that much from me.

So with that in mind, I can’t just start hooking up with Matty. He’s my dear friend, who just happens to have the most gorgeous eyes, and a messy mane of sandy blonde hair I want to run my fingers through.

Shit. No. I will
not
think of him in such a way. I won’t. Move on Shel, but move on without Matty. Without hurting him.

To do list for moving on:

1. Find a rebound guy.

1. Find a rebound guy who isn’t a teacher.

1. Find a rebound guy who isn’t a teacher at my school.

Perfect. Melly Belly and I will start looking this weekend.

The search for the ultimate boyfriend is to be continued. I chickened out, so Mel and I spent the rest of the weekend in our PJs watching Lifetime Movies and the Hallmark Channel.

This weekend would’ve been no different, but I promised my students I’d make it to at least one game this season. Eventually, I will make it out into the big bad world of dating. Maybe.

Tossing my bag on the counter in the restroom, I sift through it for my lip gloss and a brush. The wind tonight has my hair feeling like a rat’s nest. You’d think with all the leave-in conditioners and hair polish, my hair would be tame, but no. I always have to curl or straighten it. Or put it up in a clip.

“
When was the last time you went to a football game?” I ask Mel.

“
Last year some time. Maybe homecoming. Nick and I went with you and Chase, remember?” she responds.

“
Yeah, well I don’t miss this,” I say, brushing the knots out of my brown hair. “Don’t get me wrong, I love football something fierce, but high school is just way too slow paced. It’s like watching water boil.” I stuff my brush back in my bag, and reapply my lip gloss.

Mel finishes washing her hands and then takes out her own tube of lip gloss. Her hair is perfect, and unaffected by the wind. Long, shiny, and straight as a ruler, she lets it hang freely past her shoulders and it wouldn't move even if a tornado touched down on her nose. “Good, so we can cross this shit off our bucket list.”

A stall door flings open, and the clack clack of heels echoes through the staff rest room. The reflection in the mirror smirks at me.

“
Hey, Summer. I guess Chase is dragging you to these things now,” I say with a fake smile, never looking directly at her. “You should really rethink your footwear though. He’ll have you on the field moving the chains with him and your heels are gonna get stuck in the ground.”

“
Forget the chains. Why the hell would you wear stilettos to a game anyway? TMZ isn’t following you around with a camera or something, are they?” Mel asks, sarcastically looking around the bathroom.

“
Apparently, looking good is only a priority for one of us in here,” Summer says, with a click of her tongue.

“
You gotta be fucking kidding me, right?” Mel snaps back, turning around to face her.

Summer teases her smooth, long black hair in the mirror, all the while forming the duck lips. “You teach those at-risk kids, don’t you, Melissa? You’re starting to talk like them. You might want to consider a schedule change,” she snickers.

Mel starts taking off her earrings, and she pulls a rubber band off her wrist and twists it in her hair. Then she starts rolling up her sleeves. “Oh, I can do more than just talk like my students. I can act like them too. You want me to show you,” she steps forward, throwing up her arms and challenging her.

I want to laugh so hard. This is so Mel, pulling an award-winning Oscar performance. I bet she’s snorting inside.

Summer dries her hands, and darts out mumbling, “You guys are fucking crazy.”

As soon as she clears the door, Mel and I bust up laughing. Mel has to take a deep breath to calm herself, and her snorting. “Fucking crazy. I’ll show her fucking crazy. I’ll cut a bitch,” she jokes. And then we burst into laughter again. I’m practically convulsing as we exit the bathroom and head toward the bleachers.

“
You know, I should probably call security,” I tease her. “Didn’t I sign some contract about protecting the safety of others?”

“
With regards to students, yes. Her, no. That beeyotch is on her own,” Mel replies, putting her earrings back in and rolling down her sleeves.

“
What’s so funny?” Matty asks. He picks up his pace alongside of us.

“
Oh man,” I begin. “I wish you could have seen Mel go all gangsta on Summer in the bathroom. I thought she was gonna bust out a shank.”

Matty chuckles, and asks for more details. We fill him in on the way back to our seats.

“
You better watch out,” he says. “She might stab you with one of her nails next time. Have you seen those things? They’re scary.” He trembles, jokingly.

I love that he recognizes her awful manicure as a hideous mess. “You think so. I was totally gonna get mine done tomorrow.” I hold out my hands staring at them. “I was even thinking of going longer than hers, with maybe an airbrushed zebra print.” I lean into him, nudging him to the side a little.

“
Go for it. I think it’ll put a damper on your man hunt though. Most guys aren’t into artificial women,” he says.

“
That’s bullshit,” Mel calls out. “You can’t tell us a guy would rather be with a girl from the itty bitty titty committee over a girl with melon-sized knockers.” She makes sure to emphasize the volume of boobage with her hands way out in front of her.

“
I would,” he says, very seriously. “I like breasts that move.”

Mel and I are both silent and Matty looks back and forth at both of us. “What?” he asks, running his hand through his thick hair.

“
You like them to move?” Mel repeats.

I shimmy to the left and right, shaking my boobs like Jell-O jiggles. “Like this,” I tease.

“
That’s not exactly what I meant, but it’ll work,” he says. I stop jiggling. “Don’t stop. You can keep going.” The people in front in us look back, and I have to remind myself where we’re at.

“
Cut it out,” I tell him. “We’ll have to finish this conversation later.” I gesture to the folks below us.

He winks at me. “I look forward to it.”

I gaze into his twinkling eyes, and am so happy we’re here together and he’s acting normal. I was so worried things were going to be awkward after what happened after school last week. But since then, he’s been just fine. We’ve chatted at work, and he even helped me take a boat load of projects to my car one day. We haven’t done lunch again, but I’m good with the way things have been.

“
You guys just need to screw and get it over with already,” Mel says, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

I roll my eyes, and I’m just about to tell her to shut up because there’re students around when Matty says, “Nah, once Shelly gets a piece of me, she won’t be able to stay away. I’m not sure I’m ready for so much of a time commitment just yet. She’s gonna want it all the time, and I’m pretty busy right now.” He starts to snicker, but I whack him in the chest with the back of my hand. “See, we haven’t even done anything yet, and she can’t keep her hands off me.”

He and Mel giggle, and I want to laugh because they’re both full of crap, but I don’t. Instead, I say, “You guys are dumb asses. Are you forgetting where we’re at?”

“
No, Ms. Gelson, now watch your language,” Matty teases me.

“
Alright, I’ll shut up,” Mel replies. “Let’s watch the rest of the game.”

I sit back against the bench and whip out my Red Vines. I chew on them one by one observing the teams run the ball up and down the field. Neither team has much of a passing game. And neither has a decent kicker.

I should coach this shiz.

Why haven’t they recruited from the soccer team? If we had a good enough kicker, we’d have more points on the board. How can you have a team who can’t kick a field goal at a minimum of twenty yards? When we march down all the way to the fifteen yard line and don’t kick the ball, I almost die. I have to bite my tongue from shouting obscenities. Sensing my frustration, Matty offers to go down to the snack bar and get some more licorice since I have already gnawed through a whole package.

I really shouldn’t talk shit about our coaching staff. I sure as hell don’t want the job. And if I did, I’d want to be like the coach on Friday Night Lights—a “molder of men,” is what I think Billy Riggins called him. When I first started watching the show, I viewed the whole first season—twenty-something episodes—in one sitting. It took almost 24 hours, and every time I started a new episode I’d laugh at myself because after about sixteen of them, I was pretty much delirious. I can still picture Chase’s expression when I told him I wanted to move to a small town in Texas so I could live the football life. He told me to go to sleep and forget about it.

I still think about Texas all the time.

“
Hey,” Mel says, “Look who’s on the field.”

I sit forward, resting my elbows on my knees to peer at the sidelines. Sure enough, Summer is there, heels and all, getting in the way. The boys have to keep walking around her. It seems every time they’re going to make substitutions, she’s right in the path of the guys. One of the assistants finally tells her something, and she moves further away from the group and down field a bit. She really has no business being on the field. I know football and I wouldn’t just occupy space without having a specific job to do.

“
I’m almost embarrassed for her,” I tell them. “She looks like an idiot.”

“
Entertaining though,” Mel quips.

“
I’m over it. Unlike some people,” Matty drags on his words, “I’m tired of hearing about her.”

Whatever.

At the games end, we pull through and win with a two-point conversion in the last few minutes. I paid enough attention to the game, in between bouts of jokes and crap talking, to chat up the highlights with my students on Monday. Mission accomplished.

“
I have to pee,” Mel says when we reach the bottom of the bleachers. “I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

She disappears in the crowd and Matty and I continue walking.

A breeze picks up and I shiver.

Matty sheds his hoodie and hands it to me. “Here, put this on.”

“
No way,” I tell him. “I’m the dummy who didn’t bring a jacket. You stay warm.”

“
Just put it on,” he pleads, shoving it into my hands.

Fine. I start pulling the thing over my head. The familiar earthy scent in the material makes me want to squish it up to my nose and breathe it in. Matty is significantly bigger than me and I’m swimming in his clothes. When I finally surface, he puts his hands on both sides of the hood, and pulls it down over my head. I gaze up at him as he runs his hands through my hair and frees it from the inside of the sweatshirt. I could kiss him right now. I really could. I consider my rule of no dating guys from work, and think I should really add no kissing them at work either. But standing here, looking into his ocean blue eyes I can swim in, I want him to press his lips to mine.