Vérité (14 page)

“Listen, Tiberius, and listen good. I appreciate you and your friends looking out for me, taking care of shit the other night, but I’m not some girl you can toy with, learn the ropes from and make a fool of. I’ve already had that done, so see ya around.” Then I turned and bolted.

“Shit!”

Tiberius swore softly and cursed behind me, and I imagined him trying to swing his long legs out from the table as I burst through the door and thanked the heavens I was wearing a pair of running shoes. The fried food gurgled and churned inside my belly, trying to make a reappearance, but I wouldn’t allow it.

I set a brisk pace and steered myself toward the dorm, not stopping until I was deep inside the double doors of my building. Bypassing the elevators and making my way to the stairwell, I raced up one flight three steps at a time before I stopped and slid down the wall, dropping on my ass on the cold concrete. Tears came. Heavy droplets ran down my face, soaking my sleeves as I wiped them across my snotty nose.

I was such a desperate, love-hungry fool. When was I going to realize that I wasn’t meant for love? It wasn’t in the cards for me, especially the unconditional kind. I let my head fall into my hands, providing a cup for new tears and a curtain between the world and myself.

That’s when the date occurred to me. September fifteenth. The day Pierre officially left last year, his last day on American soil as far as I knew. I’d caught a glimpse of him leaving the languages lab as I’d made my way to therapy that bright, fucking cheery fall day. The walking was supposedly good for my recuperation from the whole spleen issue. Not to mention, I had to get back to running eventually. So, every day but Sunday, I made my way to my shrink at the student health center—each day leaving and pushing myself to take a longer stroll than the day before.

Pierre had been carrying a few boxes that afternoon, his blond hair ruffling in the wind. He’d let his beard come in full, and he’d been wearing jeans and a navy dress shirt. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I imagined next to his shirt, they were as blue as the Atlantic—the ocean that now separated us. Well, that and his wife. And the little-known fact that I’d ruined his career.

My pulse sped up as soon as I’d spotted him that day. I was certain he intentionally came on a Saturday, convinced he wouldn’t see anyone. My entire body itched to go to him, and I scratched at my skin as though it was covered in hives of want, trying to put out the itch. Even with everything that had happened, I wanted him that day. I held tight to a stone wall, my fingers gripping the ledge until they turned white, forbidding myself from running to him. Finally, he left the quad, heading toward the parking lot, and I jogged—against doctor’s orders—to my shrink.

It was that day we came up with the
P
game. I had no clue I’d still be using it a year later, or that I would reinvent it after I’d fallen for someone else.

Putrid. Telescope. Potatoes. Truffles. Paris. Touché.

Touché
was right; I was such a cliché. Spoiled little rich girl from LA with mommy and daddy issues falls for the teacher, has a breakdown, and then falls for the good guy. The one who was trying out a new look, who wanted a walk on the wild side with the bad girl.

I stayed there in the stairwell long after the sweat and tears had chilled on my body, long past my butt ached from the hard floor and my muscles begged for relief. When I finally went upstairs, the apartment was quiet and still, the only noise coming from the mini fridge humming in the corner and my cell phone vibrating in my pocket.

I lay down on the futon in the common area and sat staring out the window. Stars filled the sky, twinkling with hope. Unable to take in their beauty—it wasn’t meant for me—I turned my phone off and tossed it on the table. I ran my hand ran over the small incision where they took my spleen, massaging the scar tissue, before bringing it over my chest, settling on my heart.

I didn’t try to massage or squeeze it back to life, just held my hand steady over it, trying to keep it in one piece.

L
ife was back to normal by Wednesday . . . my new normal. Early practice and babysitting (aka study hour), classes, and dinner with Ginny and Bryce.

Apparently, Bryce was a new fixture at our table. I stared at his enormous arms and shoulders, at the stupid Road Runner tattoo on his bicep. I stirred my mundane salad around my plate before dipping it in dressing and shoving it in my mouth.

Actually, I didn’t feel like eating, but we had a meet the next day and I needed to perform on command. My times sucked on Monday. I blamed the fried food but deep down, I knew it was the blowup with Tiberius. Stephanie thought I went out and had a wild time all weekend with the girls, so even though my time was shit, she was happy. So, yeah—I was normal. Classes, salad, and beer pong.

Of course Tiberius texted, apologized, called, and left messages, then apologized some more. I was too mad to accept any of them. He kept his distance otherwise, too nice to come by unannounced. I was aggravated with all that too. I wouldn’t take his calls or respond to his texts, but somewhere deep inside I wanted him to make some dramatic gesture.

I was a fucking train wreck of a loser, wanting something I couldn’t have or wouldn’t happen. And my parents were calling—furiously. I had a blister on my finger from hitting
DENY CALL
.

Thursday passed with a similar sense of ordinariness until the meet. We came in first place, and the whole gang was raring to go out. Our school had hosted the event, and the locker room near the track was bursting with excitement. Hoots and hollers over a kegger on College Avenue and a haunted hayride reverberated in the locker room and the showers.

I showered quickly, then tossed on jeans and an off-the-shoulder navy T-shirt before heading toward the door, hoping to make a fast exit. But Nadine stopped me.

“Hey, Tingly, you coming? Come on, we’re gonna have fun!” She stood there wearing a bra, a towel hooked around her waist, her hair wet. Long gone was her quiet, peaceful running demeanor; she’d been injected with peppiness and overexcitement like everyone else.

“I don’t know, I’m kinda beat.” I pretended to stare at the big green
H
on the wall as if it were mesmerizing.

She shook her head. “I don’t want to hear it. We’re gonna go to Lupe’s first for some food,” she said, and in a hushed voice added, “and maybe drinks.” Her face brightened. “And then to the parties. You gotta at least come and eat.”

“Okay,” I said, plopping down on the bench to wait. There was no sense going back and eating alone in the dining hall.

Finally, Nadine appeared in a cloud of perfume, her blond hair slicked straight, painted-on jeans covering her long legs. Her big hoop earrings reflected the awful locker room track lighting, blinding me as she stepped toward me.

“Let’s roll, babe,” she shouted, and we headed for the back of the locker room to exit the rear of the track building.

Nadine was talking a thousand miles a minute. “You know Andrew, from the men’s team? Well, he has a hookup at Lupe’s for free drinks and half-priced food, so we’ll go there, and then we’ll hit up the party on College first and if it’s lame, we’ll bail. Maybe hit the frats? Or that hayride? There’s gonna be booze and lots of guys to snuggle up with—”

“Tingly!” A deep voice came out of nowhere, interrupting Nadine’s monologue, but I kept walking.

“Isn’t that your name someone’s calling?” Nadine asked. She whipped her head around, her hair brushing my cheek as it flew through the air.

Again, his voice rang through the crisp fall air. “Tingly!”

“Over there, look, Ting . . . over there!” Pointing toward the side entrance, Nadine’s finger homed in on him like a missile on its target.

“Tingly! Wait,” he yelled, jogging toward me.

Tiberius looked good in dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Dark blue high tops peeked out of his pants as he ran our way, his shirt moving with his muscles. Mesmerized, I couldn’t take my eyes off his cut arms as they flexed and pumped with each stride he took.

As he neared, I focused on the ground like it was about to swallow me up. I couldn’t meet his expression; it was full of hurt and anxiety. It was a look I clearly put there, and I wasn’t proud of that, but what choice did I have? I needed to protect my heart.

“Hey, T. Great meet today,” he said.

“Oh, thanks. You watched?” I kicked a tiny pebble with my shoe, dribbling it like a soccer ball and I was in the World Cup.

“Yeah, of course.”

His matter-of-fact response surprised me, considering I’d accused him of using me only a few days before.

“Hi, I’m Nadine,” my teammate said cheerfully, interrupting our tense moment.

Shit
. I forgot she was there.

“Tiberius,” he said, and extended his hand to shake hers.

I finally looked up and frowned at Nadine eyeing Tiberius as if she wanted to climb him like a tree and swing from his branches—or branch, as in his penis.

“Tiberius and I met in study hall,” I offered. I didn’t know why I kept referring to him that way. Who was I protecting? Him? Or me.

“Fun! We’re going to Lupe’s. You should come,” she said, continuing to eye-fuck the boy with her hand on her hip, her tits stuck out farther than I thought humanly possible, and her glossy lips held in a supposedly sensual pout.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to intrude.” Tiberius spoke with his gaze on me, seeking silent permission or forgiveness, I wasn’t sure which.

Nadine’s stupid girly giggle shot through the silence, making me wince. My ears actually hurt listening to her flirt, and I was reminded why I didn’t do beer pong, girls’ nights, or college bullshit. And why I liked presumably mature professors or strong, silent, incredibly mature basketball players.

“That cool with you, T?” he asked, breaking the silence I’d easily retreated into rather than deal with the situation unfolding in front of me.

“Sure, why not?” I tried to act nonchalant or cool, anything other than rattled.

“Great!” Nadine jumped up and down.

We turned and resumed walking toward downtown as Nadine drew Tiberius into some superficial conversation masked as earth-shattering news. I lagged a little behind the two, drawing into myself as I watched my feet, entranced as one stepped in front of the other.

I wasn’t sure how long we walked that way or what in the hell those two discussed, because it wasn’t until we hit College Avenue that Tiberius dropped back with me.

“T?” he said close to my ear. He leaned toward me and the heat from his body licked through my chilled skin. His warm breath ghosted over my bare shoulder, causing goose bumps to line the skin it touched.

“Yeah?”

Splaying his hand on my lower back, he whispered, “We good? We should talk.”

I tried to pick up my pace, but he kept up. He slid his hand under my shirt, coming into full contact with me, skin to skin. When his long fingers skimmed over my spine, I lost all my resolve. Thinking back to the day he ran his finger over his dead mother’s picture, I knew with certainty that I’d overreacted at the diner. This man couldn’t use a woman, even a filthy one like me.

“Just let it be, Ty. I understand if you can’t forgive me. I was a bitch, but I don’t need you to flaunt it in my face that I don’t have your friendship anymore. Can’t you go flirt with some other girls? Not track ones?”

We came to a stop next to the wrought-iron gates of the university, engrossed in our conversation. Nadine hurried ahead toward a good time, crossing the street and leaving us behind without a second glance.

He didn’t answer. We stood there as time passed, tension and silence swirling around us, oblivious to the Hafton coeds who passed us on their busy little ways to nowhere important. I was trapped, my feet glued to the cold concrete, unable to move. I tried, but my body wouldn’t let me leave Tiberius.

“Not flirting, letting you cool off,” he whispered into my ear. “Want you, all of you. Not once or twice, or just for fun. Want all of you, Rex. The naughty and the nice, especially the nice, because I’m scared to death I’m gonna screw up and not be the man you need when it comes to the naughty.”

Before I could respond, his mouth took possession of mine in the middle of campus. His arm wound around my waist, lifting me an inch or two so I didn’t have to reach on tiptoe to meet his lips. I matched his passion in earnest as college life passed us by; we were the only two in the world at that moment.

A blaring horn brought us back to earth.

Disgruntled, Tiberius broke free, setting me down as he looked up. “Shit,” he muttered.

I followed his gaze and spotted the silver SUV behind the honking. Trey steered the car over to the curb and rolled down the passenger window, revealing Jamel riding shotgun.

“Wassup?” they yelled through the window.

“I’m heading out with Tingly, you asses,” Tiberius flung back at them.

“Out or in?” Jamel prodded with a smirk. Of course, they had to witness our moment.

“Lupe’s . . . with her team,” Tiberius said, ignoring their teasing.

“Cool, we’ll come. I feel like hanging out with some skinny bitches,” Jamel joked.