Page 38 of Speak

Even with his glares from the front of the class, Harrington didn’t bother us, even though I knew he had watched the entire exchange.

“We’re leaving at four. We have to be at Turner Falls’ stadium and in uniform by six. The game starts at seven. We’re going to stay there but we’ll be back on Saturday morning. Could I take you to brunch?”

I blink at him, smile still on my face.Of course. I slip my hand in his and squeeze. We hold hands for the rest of the lecture. We ignore the whispers behind us and I bask in the feeling of holding Joans’ large, warm hand in mine.

After my last class, I go to the library and check out a few old alumni yearbooks from the seventies then head back to my room to get ready.

______

Before he leaves for his game, he stops by my dorm room for a good luck kiss, the twins in tow and I surprise him by wearing a Yellow Jacket’s tee with his number I used a permanent marker to write with on the back, black biker shorts, twin braided pigtails, and #19 on my cheek I wrote with eye liner and added glitter. It’s what I used to do for Axel when I was a cheerleader, and it felt so right to do it for Jonas.

Jonas picked me up, I wrapped my legs around his torso and once again, like before, he devoured my lips, this time in front of his friends with abandon. When I open my eyes, I find Chase looking right at me with a scowl that rivals Professor Harrington’s. I reach out and give them each a half hug, lingering a bit on Riordan. Before theyleave, I hold an imaginary football under my arm, put the other out like I’m bracing for a tackle, throw down the ball and do a little touchdown dance, swaying my hips.

Riordan and Jonas burst into fits of laughter, Chase’s eyebrow quirked up, and I can tell he’s fighting his own laughter with the way his eyes sparkle.

Jonas pulls out his phone and snaps a selfie of us, immediately putting it as his lockscreen wallpaper, sends it to me, and does the same on my phone.

“She’s funny.” I hear Riordan tell Jonas behind my closed door when they leave.

“Isn’t she great?” Jonas replies.

“She’sdefective. Of course she’s funny. She has to be. Ugly and/or fat chicks are funny and have a personality. They have to be to keep our attention somehow.” Chase replies. I’m about to open the door and smack the living shit out of the brawnier Prescott twin but then I hear:

“She’s not fat or ugly, you idiot. She’s healthy and proportional. And fuck it. She could gain fifty pounds and she’d still be hotter, smarter, and funnier than the bitches you pull.” Jonas bites back. “She’s definitely way cooler than your bride to be.”

“You think Goth Metal Barbie back there is hotter than Priscilla? You’re fucking delusional.”

“Priscilla has the fucking personality of a wet paper towel. She’s pretty. But my girl?” I gasp inaudibly.My girl. “Fuck, natural curves for days, luscious hair, funny, smart, kind, and those eyes? Fuck me, those eyes… I’d do anything for her. I’d even let her peg me, bro. She can have all of me.”

“Fuck you. It doesn’t matter anyway. Priscilla has one job and one job only: to breed more Prescott heirs. We already came to the resolution that we’ll have a don’t ask, don’t tell open marriage as long as the kids are mine.”

“Guys, can we not have this conversation here?” Riordan whispers into the hallway.

“Fuck, Chase that sounds fucking miserable.” Jonas replies.

“Guys, seriously. You aren’t exactly being quiet. She can probably hear us.”

Chase must reply in a silent manner because I hear their footsteps go down the hallway.

What the fuck was that entire conversation even?

______

I have a bowl of popcorn in my lap, the game on, watching in absolute suspense as Chase throws the ball to Jonas, who I now know is a wide receiver, with only seven seconds left in the game. Jonas catches it and runs, faster than I’ve ever seen anyone run in my entire life, and when he makes it to the end zone just as the timer blares. The camera zooms in just as he throws down the ball and does the same end zone dance I did in my room. The crowd fucking roars so loud, the announcers are practically screaming over the noise.

The Yellow Jackets win their first game, 49 – 14.

The players all run onto the field, and grab Jonas, hoisting him up onto their shoulders, the camera zooms in again as they set him down, he pulls off his helmet, and he sends a kiss to the camera, knowing I’m watching him, his win. Even through the screen he’s beautiful. Forty miles away and Jonas Anderson has me blushing like a schoolgirl. I grab my phone, angle it where it shows his face and take a selfie, shooting it to him. If I’m his, then he’s mine too, right?

I put the bowl of popcorn on my coffee table, go to my bathroom to get ready for bed, turn on my sleep light, turn off the remaining lights and then open the window to let the cool night air in. I take a full pill and once I’m under the heavy blanket, I fall immediately to sleep.

______

A loud crash of thunder wakes me from my slumber and throws me into a pit of darkness. My breath hitches in my throat, heart pounding, the howling wind from the open window sending me into a full panic. I leap out of bed to close it, and then back to the other side of the room to turn my night light back on. The lavender glows softly just as a dash of lightning hits and I hit the ground.

Something I can see– my lamp.Touch– my hair.Hear– the rain against my window.Smell– popcorn.Taste– my toothpaste.

I clamber back into bed like a child, sleep still weighing my eyelids heavily. I close my eyes, heart rate down, I touch the comforter, breathing as silently as possible, lulling myself back to sleep, fingers running over the blanket, grounding me.

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