Beauty and the Running Back (8 page)

Dean

With a low, guttural grunt, I thrust my weights straight up
into the air one last time. Buck, my spotter, guides the bar onto the rack as I
sit up, my muscles aching in the best way. The Red Birds are training like
motherfuckers in the lead up to our Bowl. We’ve been spending hours in the
weight room, making sure that we’re in the best shape possible before our big
game. Between the adrenaline leading up to the game and my excitement about
finding a way to actually be out as a couple with Jessa, I have plenty of
energy to pump into my training.

“Benching 225 ain’t too shabby,” Buck says, as we trade
places. “Especially not for a sprightly little running back like yourself.”

“Fuck you, man,” I laugh, giving him a light punch in the
gut. “Let’s see how much
you
can bench.”

Nothing can ruin my good spirits these days, not even the
ribbing of my best friend. Tomorrow night, I’m gonna swing by Jessa’s house and
start laying on the proper suitor bullshit for her parents. They’re gonna eat
that crap up, I know it. Before long, Jessa and I will be able to be a real
couple here on campus.

As I’m getting ready to spot for Buck, I hear Royce’s
drawling voice from across the weight room. Usually I just tune the rich fucker
out, and today is no exception. Until, that is, I hear him utter the phrase, “The
coach’s daughter…”

I whip around to find Royce running his mouth as he waits
for a turn on the leg press.

“Seriously though, have you seen her?” he’s saying to a
group of our teammates, “I mean, the hair, the eyes, that ass you could bounce
a quarter off of. I’d give anything to tap that.”

“Crash,” Buck mutters, standing up and grabbing hold of my
elbow, “Keep it together, man. It’s just Royce being an idiot.”

“I wonder if she’s a virgin?” Royce muses, while the other
guys guffaw idiotically all around him, “She just looks like she’d be tight as
hell, right? Hey, only one way to find out—”

My field of vision starts to go white at the edges as
blinding rage roils in my gut. I haven’t lost my temper in quite some time. But
right now…

“Just imagine what a pretty picture that would be,” Royce
groans, “Jessa Cahill’s pouty little mouth wrapped around your cock like—”

My forearm slams against Royce’s throat before he can finish
his sentence. I’m holding him slammed up against the weight room wall, his eyes
wide and wild as I snarl in his pretty fucking face.

“What the hell, Crash?” he splutters, barely able to get the
words out.

“That’s our coach’s daughter,” I growl as his face turns
red, “Show a little fucking respect, you prick.”

I let Royce go roughly, letting him stagger forward as he
gasps for air. Before anyone can stop me, I storm out of the weight room like
an angry bull. As much as Royce had it coming to him, the intensity of my rage
takes me by surprise. I haven’t let myself get this mad since I was in high
school. Since then I’ve learned to control it, put it all into the game. I
guess there’s just been too much emotion coursing through me lately to keep it
all inside until I’m on the field. Maybe once me and Jessa go public as a
couple and win her dad over, I’ll be able to relax a little. Let some of this
steam vent without doing any harm to my teammates. It’s mid-December already,
so I only have to wait a little while longer. Not that I regret what I just did
to Royce. You can’t talk about a girl like Jessa that way and not expect to get
a little fucked up. Not on my watch, anyway.

Jessa

I sit on the edge of the bathtub with Allison by my side.
Our bodies are pressed against each other, as if the buddy system could save me
in this moment. My eyes are locked onto the little pink plus sign, gleaming on
the end of the plastic strip. The pregnancy tests—all four of them—have come
out with one resounding conclusion.

I’m going to have a baby.

The plastic test lands with a soft clatter on the bathroom
tiles as it slips from my fingers. I bury my face in my hands, completely numb.
It’s like my mind and body are putting all of their energy into keeping this
news at bay. As if I could just ignore what’s happening deep inside of me, make
it go away by not acknowledging it.

But even though I grew up in an abstinence-only house, I’ve
had enough sex ed to know that isn’t the way these things work.

“How could this have happened?” I breathe, “I’m… I’m on the
pill!”

“Well… The pill isn’t always 100% effective,” Allison says
gently, “If you don’t take it at the same time every day, or miss a pill, it
can throw off—”

“I was careful Allison,” I cut her off, “You think I’d fuck
around with something like birth control?”

“Then maybe it was just a freak accident,” she says, her
eyes gleaming with empathy, “These things happen. But don’t worry, I’m here.
We’re sort this out together.”

“Sort it out?” I laugh incredulously, “How do you figure?”

“Abortion laws are pretty good here in New Jersey,” she goes
on, “There’s no reason Mom and Dad would even have to find out.”

I stare at my sister, amazed at the words coming out of her
mouth.

“I know it’s a lot to think about,” she tells me earnestly,
taking my hands in hers, “But it can absolutely be the best choice, especially for
someone as young as you. I… I had one myself, in my first year of college.”

“You did?” I breathe, feeling like my body’s going to come
apart at the seams in the face of all this new information.

“I did,” she confirms, “And you know what? It was the right
decision. I don’t regret it for a second.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know that,” I whisper, “Who was
there for you?”

“My boyfriend at the time,” she says simply, “Don’t worry, I
had the support I needed. And that’s what I want to give you, too.”

“I… You know I’m pro-choice,” I go on stumblingly, “I always
figured I’d have an abortion if I got pregnant before the time was right, but
now that’s it’s real…? I just don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore,
Allie.”

“The only thing you need to know right now is that whatever
you do next is your choice,” Allison says firmly, squeezing my hands, “You have
the final say.”

“I should call Dean,” I whisper, looking around frantically
for my phone, “I have to tell him what’s going on.”

“Jessa, listen to me,” Allison says, turning my face toward
hers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“What? Why not?” I ask, “It’s his baby, too.”

“It’s no one’s baby yet,” she counters, “Right now, it’s
part of your body, which means it’s up to you what happens from here on out.”

“What are you saying I should do, then?” I breathe.

“What you should do is figure out what you want, before
going to Dean with this,” she goes on, “You need to come to your own decision,
independent of what he thinks. When you’ve made up your mind, you can tell him
or keep it to yourself. But you need a clear head while you think this over.
And that won’t be possible if you’ve got his opinions kicking around.”

“I never thought this would happen to me,” I whisper,
shaking my head.

“It happens to more women than they ever tell you in health
class,” she smiles softly, “But you know what? All the women who’ve had to face
this before you get through it together. You’re not alone in this. Not with me
here.”

“I… I think I need some air,” I say, rising shakily to my
feet.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Allison asks, following as I
stagger out into the hall. “I can come with—”

“No,” I cut her off sharply, “No, I just need to think.”

“OK,” she nods, “Go for it. That’s a good idea.”

But I can barely make out her words over the beating of my
own heart as I grab my winter coat and burst out onto the porch. My breath
comes out in billowing white clouds as I look out across the sleepy campus.
Soft snow flurries have started to fall from the sky—my first East Coast snow.
But the beauty of the quaint landscape is entirely lost on me as I run around
the house and grab my bike.

Swinging onto the cruiser, I take off like a shot through
the streets. Almost as if I could outpace what’s happening to me. Inside of me.
I ride off like a woman on a mission, my gloveless fingers going numb around my
handlebars. I promise myself that I won’t return home until I know exactly how
I’m going to handle this. No matter how dark and cold it gets, I need to
knuckle under and make a choice. Because it isn’t just one life that hangs in
the balance, now.

It’s
three
.

Chapter Seven

Dean

“You look like a Jehovah’s Witness,” Buck informs me as I
step out of my room.

“It’s called a button down,” I tell him, grabbing my winter
coat, “Just because you don’t own a single shirt that doesn’t have a beer logo
on it—”

“I’m just saying, you’re really putting in a lot of effort,
trying to make this thing with Coach’s daughter work out,” Buck goes on,
shoveling Captain Crunch into his face, “Dressing up all gentlemanly and
whatnot. Is it really worth it?”

“You’ll get it someday,” I tell him, pocketing my phone and
keys.

“What, when I’m in looove?” Buck drawls, batting his
eyelashes at me.

I throw my best friend into a casual headlock.

“Exactly, asshole,” I smile, releasing him back to his
cereal.

Stepping out of my apartment building, I suck a deep breath
of frosty air into my lungs. The ground is covered with a few inches of snow—the
first of the season. It crunches under my feet as I set out for Jessa’s house.
Tonight, our plan goes into action. I’m going to swing by her house to give her
a “thank you” gift for tutoring me all semester. Her parents will see me as a
nice, thoughtful young man, instead of a killer running back. Who knows? Maybe
they’ll even invite me in for some hot chocolate, or whatever it is upper
middle class people do.

My fingers close around a small box in my jacket pocket. I’ve
never given a serious gift to a girl before, so I have no idea whether Jessa is
going to like this present or not. Even though this little gift-giving is
mostly just for show, I still want her to like what I’ve picked out for her. I
really must be head-over-heels if I’m suddenly giving a shit about my shopping
abilities.

A smile comes across my face as I walk across the quiet,
snow-covered campus. I knew that coming to Rayburn to play college ball was a
good decision, but I never thought it would bring something as amazing as my
relationship with Jessa into my life. In thinking about the future, I’ve never
wondered what it might hold beyond what NFL team I’d end up playing for. But
now, there’s a whole new factor to take into account. A whole other person to
think of. And you know what? I’m ready to think of it that way.

To think of
her
that way.

Jessa

I stand in front of my bedroom’s full-length mirror,
studying my reflection for hints of transformation. My face is pale but
resolved, my newly filled-out body wound as tight as a spring. I’m wearing a
navy sheath dress, the fabric of which skirts over my curves without hiding
them completely. My stomach is bound up in a tight knot as I wait for Dean to
arrive. I spent all of yesterday wracking my brain as I came to a decision
about what to do about our situation. But even though I’ve made up my mind, it
won’t make this next part any easier.

Allison and Blaire are waiting for me in the kitchen. I
filled Blaire in on what’s going on, needing all the moral support I can get
right now. She and my sister helped me nail down the details of my plan going
forward. Allie was right about one thing—at a time like this, the women in your
life are indispensable.

Just as I’ve gathered my long blonde hair into a ponytail,
my phone vibrates on the desk. I glance over at the device and feel my heart
fly into my chest as I see Dean’s name there. His message reads:

Dean: Heading
over. Can
’t wait to see
you, beautiful.

I sink down into my desk chair, swallowing a sob. I know
that I’m making the best decision for both of us, here. But fuck if it doesn’t
hurt like hell.

Dean

I take Jessa’s front steps two at a time, all but beaming as
I ring the doorbell. I let that smile play all the way across my face as Coach
Cahill swings open the heavy front door. Jessa’s mom peers around Coach’s
towering shape, her eyes as wide with surprise at my presence as his are narrow
with something that looks like suspicion.

“Hello Coach Cahill,” I say in greeting, “Mrs. Cahill.”

“Dean,” Coach says gruffly, “What brings you over here,
son?”

“Would you boys like a moment alone to talk shop?” Mrs.
Cahill asks, “I could shoo the girls out of the kitchen for you.”

“Actually, I was hoping I could speak to Jessa for a
second,” I reply.

“Oh,” Mrs. Cahill breathes.

“What about?” Coach asks, lifting his chin.

“I wanted to say thank you for all her tutoring help this semester,”
I smile, “It was so generous of you to arrange that, Coach. And so nice of
Jessa to take the time to help me.”

“Anything for the team,” he replies, “It was no trouble at
all. For either of us.”

“Well. I still wanted to give her a small gift. To show my
gratitude,” I tell him.

“A gift?” Coach asks, his voice skeptical.

“If that’s OK with you. Sir,” I reply, laying it on thick as
butter.

“It’s a nice gesture, Dean, but that’s just not necessary,”
Coach shrugs.

“Oh, Nathan. Let him give it to her,” Mrs. Cahill whispers.

Coach shoots his wife a downright poisonous glare as she
dares to talk back to him. Jesus. I knew he was a mean sonofabitch, but it’s
clear that Jessa’s mom gets it worse than any of us on the team. For a second,
I’m seriously worried about what he might do to her. But sensing that it isn’t
worth the trouble to get into it in front of me, he moves on.

“Fine,” Coach grunts, walking back into the house, “Go
ahead, then.”

“I’ll call Jessa for you,” Mrs. Cahill says, smiling shakily
as she swings the door open, “Would you like to come inside, Dean?”

But before I can answer, Jessa’s appeared at the top of the
stairs. My heart rams itself against my ribcage as I catch a glimpse at her
hurrying down the stairs to meet me. The sight of her never ceases to knock me
out.

“That’s OK Mom,” Jessa says quickly, shucking on her coat as
she steps outside to meet me, “We can talk out here.”

I glance over at her, confused. The plan was for me to come
inside and spend some time around her and the family. Let them get used to be
being around. But looking at Jessa’s serious face, I’m starting to get the idea
that the plan has changed.

“Oh. OK,” Mrs. Cahill says, looking back and forth between
the two of us, “Well, feel free to come inside if you get too cold.”

Through the screen door, I can see Jessa’s older sister and
best friend sitting solemnly at the kitchen table, looking out at us with bated
breath. Tension starts to creep through my body as Jessa walks away from me,
bracing herself against the porch railing. This isn’t how things were supposed
to go tonight. Not at all.

“Hey,” I murmur, stepping into the shadow beyond the porch
light to lay a hand on Jessa’s back, “Is everything OK?”