Shifting Gears: The Complete Series (Sports Bad Boy Romance) (26 page)

I had more than heard it; it’s why I was
here. Not so much the science of it all, but the hospital and the research. I
had undergone multiple treatments for the cancer that insisted on invading my
kidneys. I was at the point now of accepting experimental treatments, and the
university hospital here was world renowned for the strides they had made in
cancer research.

We were almost to the dorm when out of
nowhere a female voice said, “Hi Brock!” The voice was way too loud and too
high pitched. It made me jump actually. Brock turned, and he not only lost his
painted-on amused expression, but gained a sick one. Then he did something
crazy. He grabbed my hand and held it. I was too shocked to react as he pulled
me forward and called out to the girl over his shoulder.

“Hey Tammy! Sorry, we have to run.”

When the Tammy chick was out of sight, he
dropped my hand. I must have had a question mark on my face because he quickly
said, “I’m so sorry. I just really don’t like her. She’s kind of a stalker.”

“Oh,” I said. “I thought maybe we had a
“thing” to get to.” He started laughing then and said, “Our friends are
glaringly obvious, aren’t they?”

“You think?” I said with a smile.

We were in front of the dorms then, and he
said, “So, do you think you’ll end up going to that football game?”

I laughed and said, “What, and encourage
them?” He laughed then too, and in spite of myself, I liked the sound of it.

“It was nice to meet you Molly.”

“You too, Brock.”

As I went inside I turned back around and he
was still there, watching me. I could take that one of two ways: either he was
a creeper, or he had seen my inner beauty shining through. I was in a good
mood, so I went with the last.

CHAPTER
TWO

BROCK

When she turned around and caught me
watching her, I had to wonder if she thought maybe I was a pervert. I really
wasn’t looking at her butt, although I did glance at it earlier and she had a
really nice one. But there was so much more to this girl, and most of it I just
couldn’t put my finger on.

I had strongly objected when Jake and
Megan had broached the subject of setting me up with Megan’s friend Molly. I’m
not looking for a girlfriend right now. I’ve been there and done that at least
ten too many times in my life. I’m not sure if it’s me, or the kind of girls I
attract, but long lasting love had yet to find me the way it seems to have
found Jake and Megan. The girls I’ve met here at school so far have
seemed…shallow…empty somehow, until tonight.

Molly and I didn’t have much conversation,
but from what we did have I was able to deduce that she’s smart and funny and
she just seemed so genuine. She wasn’t trying to impress me at all…which was
obvious a few times by the things that she said; also she’s gorgeous. I got the
feeling that she doesn’t know it. It makes me wonder why there weren’t guys
following her around in high school telling her so. She wasn’t plastic pretty
like some of the other girls I’ve dated, but I like that. She’s got plenty of
nice curves to look at, unlike the stick figures of the other girls, and I like
the way her brown hair frames her face. She’s got this sexy little sprinkle of
freckles across her tiny little nose…and those eyes. Sometimes today when she
looked at me, I felt like she could see inside. I hope that’s not the case.
There’s a lot of stuff in there that needs cleaning out before I have any
company.

I fell asleep that night thinking about
her…and I woke up the next morning thinking more of the same. I may have even
dreamt something about her in between. Was I going to give Jake the
satisfaction of knowing that though? I think not.

“Hey dude!” he said as he came out into
the kitchen to pour himself a gigantic bowl of sugar disguised as cereal. He
even bought the ones with the colored marshmallows in it. Disgraceful.

“Hey,” I said as I mixed various fruits
with juice in the blender. I was adding a tablespoon of Echinacea as he said,
“How do you drink that stuff? It even smells bad.” This from a guy who eats his
breakfast out of a box with fake vampire on the front.

“I have cancer, I can’t taste anything.”

“Oh dude…Man…I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

I smiled then, and he knew I was yanking
his chain. Jake’s the only one here at school who knows my history. I was
diagnosed with a brain tumor at the age of fourteen. Since then, I’ve had
multiple surgeries, chemo, radiation…blah, blah, blah! But now I was taking a
new course of drugs that were still in the experimental stages. I only have to
take them five days a month and they seem to be keeping the tumor from
growing…so far. I have problems with them on the fourth or fifth day of taking
them every month, but I try to time them so that happens on a weekend, and then
I just camped out in my room with a bucket. Jake’s cool and doesn’t invite
anyone over during that time…even Megan. He tells her that I’m working on my
music and can’t be disturbed.

“That was low man,” Jake said when it hit
him that I was kidding. It was…kind of.

“You insulted my breakfast first,” I told
him.

“True story,” he said. The best part about
Jake is that he never lets anything bother him for more than a few seconds at a
time. He was honestly the easiest-going person I had ever met. He parked his
butt on the couch and turned on the TV. “So what did you think of Molly?”

I was grinning inwardly as I said, “Who?”

I casually poured my “bad smelling” drink
into a glass as Jake said, “Megan’s friend? The one from last night? Do you
seriously not remember her name?”

“I have memory problems from the cancer
too,” I told him. “You’re so insensitive sometimes.” I was grinning this time
so he just ignored me. Then I said, “Oh, the brunette. Yeah, she’s hot.”

“She’s a good-looking girl,” Jake said.
“Hot” wasn’t a word that he’d use in reference to any other woman than Megan,
and I knew it. I was still tugging at his chain. “But, did you like her? I
mean, come on man. Megan and I know that you attract the good-looking ones like
flies. But you never really like them. Megan said you also needed one with a
brain. What did you think of Molly?”

I gulped down the juice, sat the glass on
the counter, wiped my mouth and picked up the keys to my bike before I said,
“She was alright.”

“Just alright?” Jake said, sounding
disappointed. I knew that Megan’s disappointment was what he was worried about.
For some reason it was important to Megan that Molly and I like each other.

I shrugged, grabbed my book bag off the
counter and said, “Don’t give away my football ticket okay?”

Jake grinned as I went out the door. He
knew how I felt about football. I’m sure he took that as a good sign.

Our apartment building was only six blocks
from the university. I could walk, and sometimes I did, but sometimes I rode
Suzie just because I missed her. I found her waiting for me in our spot, chrome
gleaming in the sun. Suzie used to belong to my pop. She had been his since she
rolled off the Harley Davidson assembly line in 1964. She was an XL Sportster
with an overhead-valve engine and cast iron heads. Her body was red and white
with lots of shiny chrome. She could be a lot of work to keep clean and shiny,
but I loved her, and what woman wasn’t work?
 

My dad had loved her too. He gave her to
me on my eighteenth birthday. It’s funny, because of all the things my dad has
done for me in my life, that was the day I realized exactly how much he loved
me. I put my book bag in her leather saddle bag and straddled her. It was
silly, but since it was only in my head I tried not to be too embarrassed about
it. As I put on my helmet and Suzie roared to life, I was hoping that Molly
would see me driving into the lot at school. Something about riding Suzie made
me feel really sexy.

I made it to school in less than five
minutes. Molly was nowhere around as I backed Suzie into her space, but
unfortunately for me, Tammy was. I tried not to look in her direction as I got my
books out of the saddle bag. She was just climbing out of her red mustang, and
I didn’t think she saw me. I rarely ever get that lucky though, and I hadn’t
today.

“Brock! Wait up, I’ll walk with you.”

I stopped, going against what every fiber
in my body wanted me to do, which was run. I wished sometimes that when I was
growing up, my parents hadn’t taught me to be so polite. No good ever came of
it. It left me walking across campus with my own stalker. When I have kids
someday, I’ll keep this in mind. She was breathless when she caught up, which
was good because for a full two minutes she couldn’t partake of the incessant
babble that was her usual norm. My bliss was shattered when the oxygen returned
to her lungs.

“So how have you been, Brock? I saw your
concert yesterday…you were amazing! Who was that girl you were with last
evening? Were you holding her hand? Is she your girlfriend?” I’m not kidding.
Just like that with nary a breath in between.

“She’s just a friend,” I told
her…strangely wishing I could say otherwise. “And thanks, about the concert.”

“You’re welcome. I loved it. You are such
a good singer. I can feel your words when you sing. I’m glad you don’t have a
girlfriend,” she said. “I’m still holding out hope for us.” What the heck was I
supposed to say to that? Instead of answering her I pulled my phone out of my
pocket and looked at it.

“Damn, Tammy. I’m late for my English
class. I have to run.” I didn’t give her the opportunity to object, I just
jogged off in the other direction.

The rest of the week passed slowly. I went
to my classes and wrote some music and played a few video games with Jake, but
time just seemed to be standing still. I didn’t run into Molly, not even once.
I often enjoyed the fact that the University Campus was like a little city in
itself, but not this week. I wanted it to be small enough that I didn’t just
know she was there, but that I actually ran into her. This doesn’t sound like
me, not even to myself. I’m starting to believe that there really is that one
person out there that you are just waiting for your entire life, and maybe I’ve
found her. Jeez, I’m ridiculous, I’ve seen her once. I was sitting in class, my
Romanticism in Music class, and having these thoughts. I know, it’s probably
more about the professor playing a remix of the themes to almost every romantic
movie ever made than it is that I’ve really fallen for this girl, but I really
want to see her again and explore it.

I realized as I was leaving class that I
had hardly heard anything that was said. I really didn’t like most of my
classes. I just wanted to play my music, but my dad really wanted me to go to
college, and I like my dad…so here I am. At least he wasn’t picky about what I
chose to major in. That’s the coolest thing about my dad. He has told me since
I was about twelve that life was too short to put on a suit and tie that you
hated, and go into an office building you despised, and spend all day working
with people who you felt sorry for because they are all as miserable as you.
The fact that my father went against the norm and chose a career that most
people furrowed their brows about when I told them speaks volumes.

My dad is a hair designer. Don’t call him
a stylist or a barber, that’ll just tick him off. He went to school for four
years to learn how to “design” hair. He works with models and actors and
actresses and the fact that he makes good money wasn’t the best part. The best
part was that he was happy, and he didn’t give a rat’s ass what anyone thought
about that. He just always had this amazing outlook and enthusiasm for life.

I only remember twice in our lives when my
dad was truly unhappy. When I was six, my mom decided she wanted a divorce. I
couldn’t imagine why anyone would not want to live with my dad. There was a lot
a six-year-old didn’t understand about the world and relationships though. To
this day, I don’t know what came between them. She and I went to live with her
mom, but every time I went to visit him, Dad just looked so sad. One day I
asked him, “Are you sad because Mom’s not here?” He ruffled my hair and said,
“A little bit, but I’m sadder because you’re not here.” We didn’t live far from
him, so on the days when he wasn’t at work I would walk to his house after
school and visit him. That seemed to make him less sad. I had tried more than
once to tell my mom that I wanted to live with him, but I didn’t want to make
her sad either. I don’t think parents really realize what they’re doing to a
kid when they get a divorce. I knew it wasn’t my fault, or about me, but I
still always felt like it was my job somehow to make sure everyone was happy.

When I was eight, my mom got remarried. To
this day, I don’t know where she met this guy. She rarely left the house. She
used her computer a lot though, so maybe it was an online thing? I asked her
once and she had changed the subject. Anyway, she said she had finally met her
soulmate, but he lived in London. London, as in London, England. Okay, I’m sure
she met him online but again, what do I know about grown-up relationships? What
I knew then, was that London was really far away…from my dad.

I did something that I had stopped doing
at the age of three then; I had a fit. I kicked and screamed and bawled my head
off. I said terrible things to my mother that I knew would make her feel bad, but
I was eight and I didn’t want to leave my Dad. Ultimately, I got my way. Mom
still got married and moved to London, but I got to stay with my dad. I also
got to spend a lot of vacations and summers in London which was cool, until I
got sick.