4. Ryan

4

Ryan

P arties are my thing. Sort of. I don’t drink in public, but I like being around crowds. It takes my mind off of everything going on in my head. My brain is like that clip art picture of the thoughts scrambled up like strings. No one can untie that mess.

My phone vibrates in my pocket against my leg, and I quickly check to see who it is. Mom appears on my screen with a picture of us from the first game of the season last year. It reminds me every day how things have changed and why I’m here. I run out the back door of my friend’s apartment to answer, dodging drunk, sweaty people in my way. The cool air hits my warm, clammy face-a stark contrast to the overcrowded apartment party. Every time I see her picture on the screen, my stomach drops. My palms get sweaty, and my head gets light. She’s sick, has been for a while. I’m all she has, and she’s my moral compass, pulling me back to righteousness when I stray too far.

“Mom, is everything ok?” I ask, trying not to sound too terrified for an answer.

“Ryan, would you stop panic-answering every single time I call? You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack at twenty years old.” She chuckles into the phone.

Good, she's ok, she's happy… I let out the biggest sigh. My chest lifts, and the blood rushes back to my head.

“I’ll try, Mom. What are you up to tonight?”

“Oh, nothing much. I just made myself a pizza and planned to snuggle in for some of my trashy reality shows until I fall asleep. I called to see how your first day of classes went. How was practice?”

That’s my mom, always worried about me when it should be the complete opposite. She’s the one who needs saving now, but it wasn’t always like that. She worries because she’s had good reason to.

“They were good, boring. Practice was ok. It feels good to be back on the field again. I love it, Mom.”

“I know you do, but promise me one thing Ry: Have fun, have a life outside of football, and take a girl out on a date for me, please!”

I laugh as my mom jokingly begs me. “I have fun. I’m at a party right now. You might be waiting a long time for the girl, though.”

“Ry, you’re so stubborn, but I love you anyway. Just remember you’re more than a running back, more than a stat. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself this year.”

“I won’t.” Lies.

“Listen, I’m coming by tomorrow around noon to help with your medicine. Don’t forget to take tonight’s dose and walk to the bed while I’m on the phone.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” I hear my mom shuffle to her bed. Once she confirms she’s tucked in, I tell her goodnight and pray for as much time as I can with her and that the next call I get isn’t the worst one of my life.

I walk back into the party and see Hartley from across the room, making his rounds with a beer in each hand. He’s wearing sunglasses inside, but a herd of girls are close behind him. He never gives one girl his full attention. Part of the appeal, I guess. When I get closer, I stop. The petite girl from class. She’s here, next to Hartley. She looks different from this morning. She’s wearing short jean shorts ripped along the edges with a lacy black tank showing off more than I saw today. A small hint of her bra peeks from under the thin lace of her shirt. Jesus.

Her hair is pulled up into a slicked-back ponytail with small pieces dangling on each side that frame her face perfectly. She’s wearing white converse and holding her phone in her hand, no purse. She scans the rooms repeatedly, darting her eyes from side to side. I can tell she isn’t listening to Hartley’s conversation because she’s twirling her hair over and over again, eyes darting to the floor and back up again. She’s hot. The kind of hot that stops you in your tracks and makes you wonder why she doesn’t have a man with her.

I scan the room to make sure no one catches me staring at Hartley’s roommate and notice half the defense with their eyes locked on her, too. Hartley doesn’t seem to care. He already gave the entire team the hands-off speech. He must be used to it if this is his best friend. She’s glued to his hip and keeps looking up at him.

I hear some girl yell for Hartley. He whispers something to Violet, making her eyes widen, and she bites her lip. She looks terrified. She quickly nods and watches him walk away. I don’t know what comes over me, but I make a beeline for the girl with the crystal blue eyes. I am NOT letting any of these guys get near her. I don’t know her well, but I can read people. She’s too pure, too naive, and without Hartley around, they will swarm her.

“Hey, stranger,” I say as I gently brush her arm and feel goosebumps raise. She jumps when I touch her, and God, if that doesn’t sting a little. Why is she so jumpy without Hartley around?

“Oh hey, yeah, Mr. Football.” She looks down and starts picking at her fingernails as soon as she finishes the last word.

“Uh, I wanted to make sure you were ok, with, uh, Hartley walking away and all.” Since when do I stumble on my words?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asks defensively.

“You looked nervous when he walked away. I’ll leave if you want.” Awesome job Ryan. Is that the best you could come up with?

“ You were watching me, Mr. Football?” she answers playfully.

“I guess you can say that. I watch everyone.”

“No, you can stay, as long as you aren’t rude to me for no reason,” she sasses back with a little smirk, and I love it. Why do I love it? I feel my lips curve into a smile and chuckle.

“I’m sorry for lunch. I didn’t mean to be a complete jerk to you on your first day of college. Give me another chance?”

“I guess I can spare one more,” she replies with the smallest smile and leans her hips into me. I can feel every inch this girl moves in my direction. I’m in tune with her. My eyes scan her body. The tiniest contact of her thigh brushing mine nearly makes me lose my mind. I can’t think about anything else besides the feeling of her being so close to my body. I want to say something, anything, to get her to smile like that again or get her even closer, but as soon as I open my dry mouth to reply, Hartley returns.

“Vi, come see. I want you to meet some of my friends.” He grabs her arm and pulls her to a crowd of people. I’m left staring at her. My world knocked clean off its axis.

She stops, turns around, and says, “And by the way, you are most definitely not my type either.”

I'm left speechless. This one is feisty. She’s going to give me a headache or a run for my money. We’ll see which one comes first.