Do Over (10 page)

His green eyes met mine.

He’d be back for more.

He knew it and I knew it.

***

Hurrying down the corridor, carrying the questionnaire, I caught up to Trey chatting up a group of girls by the lockers. “Are you headed down?” I motioned toward the exit to the field house. “I have a question about your major and stuff.”

Trey’s eyes widened, and he stepped aside abruptly. Taking my arm, he led me away. “That’s private,” he whispered his head bent to mine.

“It’s admirable.”

“It’s nobody’s business.”

“Don’t you want a girl to see you as someone more than a dumb jock?” I gestured vaguely back toward the girls. “They might want to go with you to the prom then.”

“No. I don’t give a shit how they see me,” he insisted.

“
Trey.”
John joined us, smelling like cocoa lotion. He looked from me to Trey.

Trey stepped back.

John shook his head. “Pez, you shouldn’t be with Trey. Don’t you have a class?”

I frowned. “Don’t worry about my schedule.”

“Look, I’m sure you and Trey are only talking about practice, or the game, or something, but it may not look like that to someone else. You might look like you’re with him.” John shifted his books higher under his arm and motioned his cocoa-scented head toward the other students.

“What’s it to you?” Trey stiffened and his eyes glinted. He stepped closer to me.

“Hey. I’m looking out for you.” John shrugged. “I don’t need Coach pissed off. That’s not good for the team.” John held up his hand for peace and moved down the hallway.

“Weird.” I stared after him.

“Whatever.” Trey shrugged. “I’m going to practice.”

“I’ll walk with you. We can talk about stuff.”

Trey looked at me from the side of his dark green eyes, but followed me out of the building and down to Dad’s.

I timed my questions carefully. I patted the massage table, encouraging him to hop up and relax. “So, Trey.” I dug the questionnaire out of my bag.

“Yes, Paisley?” Trey’s tone teased. He lay on his stomach.

“Lauren has this social project questionnaire, and I’m going to ask you the questions.”

“Not gonna be your guinea pig.”

I frowned and dug out my pen. “Yeah. You are.”

Trey tensed, and his fists clenched on the table. “What kind of questions?”

“I don’t know. What’s your favorite color and stuff?” I set the pen and questionnaire on the table and reached for the massage oil. I drizzled some on his shoulders and watched the oil trail down his spine, relenting to gravity. Putting a hand on the small of his back, I intercepted.

Trey folded his arms under his chest and turned his head up. “What’s in this for me?”

“What do you want?” I asked. “You’re already getting a massage.”

With faint laughter lining his voice, Trey said, “That’s for sports. You’re helping the team.” He turned his face down into the nook and laid his arms by his sides, palms up.

He thought I’d open negotiations with an offer. I quickly set him straight with a small threat. I slapped at his shoulders. “I don’t think your scoring has gone up since we started rubdowns. John’s either. So I’ll bet we end this massage program soon.”

Trey rose on his elbows and turned a frowning face to me. “We score plenty. Watch me today.”

“Down.” I pressed the heel of my hand against the small of his back and pushed upwards, widening my fingers as they slid up the length of his back, and rubbed in the heavy oil. “Are you going to do the questionnaire?” While kneading his shoulders, my eyelids lowered and I relaxed, enjoying the feel of his strength.

“Fine,” he gave in. “Ask me.”

“’K.” I lifted my hands and reached for the pen and questionnaire.

Trey raised up again, and caught my arm, keeping me by the table. “After the game. Ask me tonight after the game”

I nodded and pushed him back down, then used both hands on the back of his arms. Trey relaxed and made a contented sound.

Man, he had nice skin. So wasted on a guy. He felt hot underneath my fingertips. I lightened my touch and grazed my fingertips against the length of his back.
Tall. Beautiful.

Without lifting his head, Trey said, “Harder, Paisley, or it’s just a turn on.”

I slapped his shoulder and left him there. After plopping into Dad’s chair, I said, “Enough for today. Go play.”

Moving with an athletic ease, Trey shrugged on his jersey. His face held a slight pout.

I bet he’d watch his mouth in the future.

“After the game,” he said, pointing at me, and headed to the exit.

I reached for the computer and clicked on the internet. “I can’t stay ‘til the end. I’m helping set up Sparkle’s dessert booth.” I glanced up from the keyboard. “But I’m free tomorrow night. Are you going to the carnival? My shift ends at seven.”

Trey grabbed for the door handle, moving quicker. “I don’t really take dates to those kinds of things.”

I barely refrained from throwing the keyboard at his head. “I’m not asking you out,” I said. Then I added, “If I ask you out, you’ll know.”
You’ll know because I’ll never ask.
“I meant, you can answer the questionnaire then.”

“’K.”

***

I sifted through the new set of forms on Dad’s desk, putting them in alphabetical order. He’d need a good assistant when he switched his new job at the college, because he wasn’t organized on his own. After filing the paperwork, I dialed Lauren. “How’s the booth?”

“We’re done,” Lauren said through the phone. “Decoration’s done, signs done, and the bakers swear they’ll have everything on the list ready for the morning.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah, thanks. Get home and bake. You’ve seeded the ground nicely, and those guys will want their sugar rush.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow.” I clicked off and headed to the door. If they didn’t need my help setting up, I could go home early. They were unveiling the Jumbotron at the game tonight and I didn’t want to be around. My fellow students had been Jumbo-ecstatic about the Tron all week. The door pushed open from the other side, forcing me back a step.

Trey stepped in, blood running down his face.

Chapter Eight

Trey passed me and sank onto the edge of the conference table. I hurried over and stuck a hand over the wound, trying to hold back the blood, but red dripped through my fingers, spreading over the back of my hand, warm, wet. My wide eyes focused on his injury. “Trey.”

Dad entered the room with a local medic on his heels. The medic said in a controlled tone, “Move out of the way.”

I didn’t move. My eyes searched Trey’s.

“Head wounds bleed a lot. Step back so I can examine him.” The medic cupped Trey’s shoulder. “Lay back.”

Dad grabbed both my arms and moved me down to the end of the table. I latched onto Trey’s ankle, keeping my gaze glued to his pale face and the medic’s efforts. The medic cleaned the wound and tacked Steri-Strips along the edges to pull the sides closed. Trey winced, his mouth tight with pain, but he didn’t say anything. In an attempt at a comforting gesture, I patted the top of his sneakers.

When the medic spoke, he addressed Dad. “Take standard concussion precautions. If there’s any problem, bring him in.” He ran through symptoms to watch for and used a cloth to clean up.

Trey must be really out of it to let him because he hated being babied.

Dad nodded. “I can’t get a hold of his parents. But I’ll keep an eye on him.” He turned to me. “Are you okay to drive him home?”

I swallowed and nodded.

Dad grabbed a spare uniform jersey from the shelf and tossed it to me. “Put this on.”

I caught the jersey, frowning from it to my blouse. There were blood smears across the front. I touched the splotch lightly and eyed Trey’s wound again.

Hand braced against the edge, Trey hopped off the table.

The medic assessed his stance. “Any dizziness? Where are you?”

“No. Coach’s office.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and tugged the jersey over my head. The hem fell to the end of my miniskirt, but I didn’t bother to tie it up.

Dad got the door. “Put him in your brother’s room. Call me if he stops acting normal.”

***

Trey had been in the shower a long time. Had he gotten dizzy? Collapsed? I used the side of my fist to knock on the guest bathroom.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“You okay?”

The running water shut off. “Unless you’re going to join me, leave me alone to take a shower.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry.” I turned away from the door. The sound of running water began again.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“But you’re all right? No dizziness?”

“I’m fine.”

***

Trey, wearing a pair of my brother’s black sweat pants and no shirt, shifted against my brother’s dark blue sheets and pulled the matching comforter over his chest. “You’re brother’s a sophomore at college?”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t come home too much. Not since my parents split.”

“I’m fine. I should go.”

“If your parents are out of town, Dad’s not going to give in.” I smoothed a hand against the puffy comforter and lightly touched Trey’s arm. “He can be stubborn.”

Trey relaxed into the pillows. “Okay.”

I got up and hit the light switch. “I’ll be back in two hours to check on you.”

Trey didn’t answer, but he shifted again in the darkness.

I ran into Dad on the stairs.

“How is he?”

“I think he’s okay. He says his head doesn’t hurt, but he took the icepack.”

Dad nodded. “Wake me up if you even think something’s off. You heard the medic: confusion, amnesia, irritability…”

“Got it. Dizziness, ringing in his ears, nausea, slurred speech.”

“Right.”

“Okay. Night, Dad.”

“Night, kiddo.”

***

Two hours later, I clicked on my brother’s bedside lava lamp. The blue lava melted and glowed through the darkness. “Let me look in your eyes. Do you feel nauseated, ringing in your ears or anything?”

“Fine,” Trey muttered and after a wincing, wide-eyed look my way, he rolled over.

“What’s my name?”

Trey rolled back. “Why do girls always ask that when I’m in bed with them?”

I slapped his arm. “You’re fine.” I rose and returned to my room. Once there, I found I couldn’t relax. Pulling off the jersey and my T-shirt underneath, I separated the two and stared at the blood. For no reason, it became important that I wash it right away. Running the faucet, I used soap and scrubbed hard. The cold water turned pink, but I could still see the streaks of blood. After my fingers got pruney, I gave up, and plugged the sink to let the shirt soak.

I hopped in the shower and let the jets and the fragrance of my vanilla soap ease the anxiety of tonight. Then, dressed in a clean T-shirt with sleep shorts, I crawled into bed. As soon as my head hit the pillow, my heart started to pound, and I felt wide-awake.
Great.
I turned on my left side and tried tensing each muscle then relaxing, starting with my toes and working my way up.

Beep.
I must have slept, because the alarm awakened me to check on Trey. I didn’t feel like I had slept at all. My eyes felt gritty and my muscles ached as I stumbled into my brother’s room. “It’s me.”

The sheets rustled and Trey groaned. “What?”

“How are you feeling?” I clicked on the lamp, and the blue lava glowed.

Trey’s eyes opened then closed again. “Fine, tired.” His words were thick with sleep.

I sank onto the mattress beside him. “Normal tired or weird tired?”

“Tired.”

“Let me look in your eyes again then you can go back to sleep.”

He raised his lids, blinked and looked at me with a steady gaze.

He appeared normal. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’m okay. It wasn’t that bad a hit.”

“Okay, good.” I flipped off the light.

Darkness. Quiet.

Exhaustion hit me, I relaxed and lay back against the pillow. I’d only close my eyes for a second.

Chirp, beep, chirp.

The alarm on my cell phone went off and I sat up with a pounding heart. I stared at the screen, uncomprehending for a second, then hit the red dismiss button. It took a moment for me to realize where I was. When I cleared my sleep-fuzzy brain, I stuck out a hand and switched on the lava light.

Trey groaned and rolled toward me, meeting my eyes. “All fine. Your name is Paisley.”

He smelled like soap, and sounded sleepy. I glanced at his pupils. “Yeah.” I threw my arm back and clicked off the lamp. I rolled over onto my right side, tugged on the edge of the comforter and went back to sleep.

***

“What do you mean he stayed over?” Aster said. “That’s not okay. She’s going to sneak off and do what she’s going to do, but you don’t put them under your roof.”

My eyes opened, and I stared up confused. Dad and Aster stood in the doorway.

Dad waved his arms and sounded defensive. “Star.”

I shut my eyes and tugged on the covers. They wouldn’t move.

“I may preach birth control, but I’d never let her boyfriend sleep over,” Aster said.

“You what?” Dad said in a sharp tone. “Paisley! Get up.”

I shifted and opened my eyes again. Dad and Aster were still there. Everything about the scene was weird.

I rose up on my elbow. “What time is it? I’m still tired.”

Aster said, “It’s okay. Go back to your own room now.”

I sat up and spotted the back of Trey’s head. “Trey,” I said loudly.

The pillow muffled his words. “I’m fine,” he mumbled. “Your name is Paisley.”

I didn’t move until he blinked clear green eyes at me. Then, I stood, stumbled to my room, and sank into bed.

***

When I rolled over again, bright light lit my room. The alarm clock read eleven a.m. I brushed my teeth and hair and headed downstairs. Dad stood with a phone to his ear. I waved at him and opened the fridge to grab the orange juice, filling the glass with the cold pulpy drink. “Where’s Trey?”

Dad nodded at me, but he didn’t answer. He continued talking on the phone. “Good.” he said heartily. “Glad you got the photo. Yeah. Head injuries bleed a lot. You headed home now?”