Hustle Read online

  But it's hard to pretend when you're alone. And as I slip under the sheets of my bed, I let the weight of his words squeeze out my sadness and cry into my pillow.

  * * *

  I still feel the sting of Andrew's accusations the next day, thankfully. I hold onto that feeling so it can erase the memory of his hands on me, the taste of his lips, the smell of his skin, the heat of his body wrapped around mine, supporting me.

  The thoughts are enough to make me blush as I walk into the dance studio, but the sight of Tatum blows away the lust that’s still clinging on.

  I was a fool to think he ever wanted anything more than a quick lay when he has her. I can't even imagine why he'd want to sleep with me when she's got a body like a goddess. Still, I can't get my mind to shut off, no matter how I force it to. I know the facts. I know what's right. But desire still swirls behind my anger.

  She smiles at me, but doesn't break her conversation with our instructor. Others are filing in, and we all line up to begin class. I go through the movements, mind always half occupied unwillingly. He's hijacked my thoughts, and I keep replaying last night and all the different ways it could have gone.

  When class is over, I don't waste time, and as soon as I have my sweats over my leotard, I make for the exit before any others.

  “Brooklyn, wait up,” Tatum's melodic voice calls out to me.

  I cringe and turn, sure all my thoughts are scrolling across my forehead.

  “I heard you came to the mixer this weekend? What did you think? Are you going to pledge Sigma Delta in the spring?” She nods towards the hallway without waiting for an answer. “I'm going to get coffee before my next class, come with.”

  She starts walking but pauses to make sure I'm following. “I'm only going to the small cafe next door, not the bigger one in the union. So come on, tell me, is it true?”

  “What?” I ask, nerves making it hard to understand her question. She wasn't asking about Andrew, was she?

  Her smile drops some, but she laughs it off. “Are you going to pledge Sigma Delta?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Relief floods me but guilt is quick to fill the space. “Maybe. It was fun.”

  “You'll love it. It's really something special. You learn the value of friendship and what it means to be a sister.” She pauses and glances at me as we exit the building. A hint of cool air blows through the warm sunny day.

  I pull out my sunglasses, feeling a little better with half of my face covered, but I'm still prickling with nervous energy.

  “I never had a sister before, but now I have lots of them. That's what it becomes, a big family. And living in the sorority house is great, there's always someone to talk to.” She throws another smile at me, and I try to smile back, but still feel wary, like she's talking around something. “I'm going to miss it when I graduate in the spring—The sorority and Andrew.”

  She pulls open the door to the café and waits for me to go through, and then changes the conversation. “They don't do the smoothies here, but I love their iced lattes. What are you getting?”

  “I'll get an iced coffee.” Our conversation trails off until we have our drinks.

  She moves to a table and slides out a chair. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?

  “Yeah, one.” I stay standing with my drink in my hand. “I can't sit though, I've got to get to my next class across campus.”

  “Oh. Well, I'll walk with you.” She stands back up and follows me out the door. “I had something else I needed to talk to you about.”

  My drink sweats in my grip the moment we step outside, I'm surprised I'm not doing the same thing.

  “Look, Brooklyn, I just want to be straight with you and cut out any awkwardness before it starts.”

  I nod at her, my stomach sinking as I brace for what she'll say, what she might know.

  “I know you left the bar last night with Andrew.”

  “Yeah, he walked me home.” It was a lousy excuse.

  She smiles with a puff of air. “Yeah, right, Andrew doesn't just walk people home.” She puts her hand up, cutting me off before I can start to reply. “It doesn't matter. That's what I'm saying. Don't let that keep you from pledging, don't let it keep you from hanging out with us. It's fine. I know how he does. I know that practically every girl on campus would take him if they had the chance. But I also know that it doesn't mean anything to him. He's having fun now so he can settle down later, and that will be with me. I'm the only one he cares about.” Her smile is almost sympathetic, like I'm the one to feel sorry for. “So whatever happened, I don't need to know about it, as long as you understand it's over.”

  6: Worth It

  I'm frowning so hard my face hurts, but at least my large shades cover my narrowed eyes. I swipe my hand over my forehead, trying to relax the wrinkles that are creasing my brow. It's all giving me a headache, and our pace is practically a crawl. The escape of my classroom isn't even close.

  She lets off a little laugh with a shake of her head. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I really mean it.” She twists towards me and lifts her hands, palms up. “Honest to God, I don't care, no hard feelings. Just ask Layla. She's one of my best friends in the sorority even though she screwed him after we'd already been sisters for a year. And I know she would do it again, except he acts like she doesn't exist now. Because that's all he does, that's all he's after.”

  I drop my hand from my forehead, letting it flop to my side. I wouldn't ask Layla anything because Tatum shouldn't be the one to spread her history. This was all too surreal, but she kept talking with a smile on her face, like it was normal conversation to her.

  “Okay, I get your point.” I stop her from continuing. “It's behind us. It's over. But I didn't sleep with him,” I add because I can imagine her giving this same speech to the next girl, but with my name instead of Layla's. He's probably already moved on to the next girl.

  Her face scrunches, but it's gone in a flash as she exhales, voice and body instantly lighter. “Good. That's over and out of the way. I heard you were talking to Scott at the mixer.”

  “Only because he's part of the child development clinic.” I shrug, not able to brush everything off like she just did.

  “That's not the way Deena explained it.” She nods, eyes bright and wide as she sips her drink from a straw. “She said he was watching you most of the night. He's a good guy. Nothing like Andrew, you'd be lucky to land him.”

  “Then why do you do it?” I let the question free, unable to hold it in. My head's aching, the bright sun and cold drink aren't helping, and her continuous chatter grates on me. If she has nothing nice to say about him, why is she holding on to him? It frustrates me even more that I care for the wrong reasons.

  “What?” That takes her back, and her smile slips, revealing fear through the cracks of her happy mask, not anger.

  “Why are you okay with what he does? Why are you waiting around for him?” I keep my voice soft, honestly confused as I take in the graceful beauty standing before me. “You're gorgeous and talented. You could find someone who would adore you and only you. You deserve that.” Everyone does.

  “Thanks.” Her lips turn up, but she keeps her face focused straight ahead on the sidewalk in front of us. We're nearly to the English building where my class is. “It's hard to explain. I'm not waiting for him. I do my own thing, too.” Her head dips with her shrug. “But it's never anything serious, for either of us. We both know we're meant to be together, but it's college, and he's busy with football, and I've got dance. There's no time for a relationship right now.” Her voice is absent of any emotion until she stops walking and turns to me to add, “But, really, I'm okay with it all because I know he's worth it. He's worth it, and I'm the only one that really knows that. Everyone else sees his talent, his future, his looks, but I know him. We have something no one can take away or come between, and that's worth it all. It's worth waiting for.”

  Before her words can even sink in fully, she shakes her fist in the air with a mock ye
ll. “Agh, you got me all sentimental too early in the day.” Her grin is back as she slides her arm around my shoulder and pulls my tense body to her. “Thanks for understanding though. I'll see you around. I've got to go this way.” She steps back and jabs her thumb in the opposite direction than what we've been walking.

  “Bye,” I respond, but she's already turned away.

  I let out my breath, releasing the pent up tension from our walk, with only one certainty— I need to get Andrew out of my thoughts.

  * * *

  Usually, keeping myself busy keeps me from thinking on things I'd rather forget. And as far as things I'd love to forget go, he shouldn't even register anywhere near the top. This should be easy.

  But when you're on a college campus, in a football town, and it's game day, the only thing to do is go to the game, and that focuses me directly on the person I'm trying to forget.

  Even the child development clinic this morning had little children running around in red jerseys with Fayden 12 in bold print on the back, keeping him in the front of my thoughts.

  I refuse to avoid the game though. That would be ridiculous. That would put more importance on the non-thing we had than it deserves. Because it was nothing, that's what I'm trying to convince myself of as I pull my hair back into a ponytail and scan the sea of red clad people in front of me. The slight breeze brushing my neck gives instant relief from the humid heat as I walk down the student section of the stadium seats.

  Rose is already seated in a row with almost everyone from our dorm floor. She turns and spots me, waving her arms and squeezing over on the bleachers to make a space for me. She's changed her hair so only the ends are purple now and it's smooth and sleek, falling over the jersey she's wearing. It's TJ's jersey.

  “You're just in time for kickoff,” she states as she tugs on my arm when I get close enough. “Where's your jersey? Where's the school spirit?”

  “It's red.” I point to my tank top. I'd skipped the jersey this morning. My mother had bought it for me when I got accepted to the school, but I didn't want Andrew's number on me today.

  She rolls her eyes, but her smile is teasing as she turns to watch the field.

  “Brook, where's your drink?” A girl from the dorm across the hall from ours, Angel, scoots next to me and let's a pint of Vodka peek from her purse before closing it back up.

  “You got some catching up to do.” Her roommate, Jess, shakes her big fountain soda cup. She's got a child sized jersey on so Andrew's number stretches over her large chest.

  I glance to the field and silver jerseys are at the far end, our boys in red are closest to us, spreading out. I don't focus long enough to find the number on my mind. Instead, I rise to my feet. “I'll go get a soda now.”

  Rose is serious about the game, but I spend half the time chatting to the girls from across the hall while we share Angel's bottle. There's no avoiding it though; the school spirit is contagious. I'm on my feet the other half of time, cheering with the crowd, filled with pride from being part of the winning school. Exhilaration surges as I watch Andrew break the line and run with the ball instead of throwing it, making it to the end zone untouched for the final play.

  I pretend my excitement is no different than the many around me. Hell, some of them are much more enamored. There's even a section of girls with Andrew's number written inside hearts on their stomachs.

  Rose is texting as we walk across campus from the stadium to our dorm. “Deena wants to hang out tonight. She want's to know if we'll meet them for dinner first and then hit frat row.”

  “We'll be going to the Delta's party tonight,” Angel states, pinching the front of her jersey and lifting it off her skin. “It's hot as balls out though. They need to install some shade for our student section.”

  “Agreed.” Jess reties her hair back up on her head. “I need to shower the funk off me and nap, too. But maybe we can all meet up? We'll call you later?”

  

  Our dinner is fast food across from Frat row, but we eat our fries and burgers inside the restaurant. Deena and Tatum sit on one side of the booth, and Rose, Layla, and I sit on the other.

  “Has TJ called you yet? Where are they hanging out tonight?” Deena questions as she rolls her half uneaten burger up in its wrapper and tosses it into the bag.

  “I'm not sure. Maybe he'll call later though. But we can have fun without them anyways.” Rose shrugs, tapping on her phone in her hand. “I heard Delta's having something.”

  “Delta it is then.” Layla giggles. “I want to grind on someone tonight.”

  “Well, at least Brooklyn's here for bathroom duty if you pass out again.” Deena winks to me, and Layla continues her tipsy laughing, already buzzed before she walked in the door.

  “Are you two dating?” Tatum questions Rose. “Or just hanging out?”

  “Just hanging out.”

  “You've been hanging out for what? Two weeks now? You should get him to take you on a real date,” Tatum encourages.

  Rose shrugs again and casts a quick, nervous glance at me.

  “I don't think I've ever been on a real date,” I blurt out, trying to save my friend. Her and TJ's relationship was something she'd been stressing over. He'd been pulling back some, only calling her in the evenings to spend the night. But he claimed it was practice and school keeping him busy. “Do people actually date still?”

  “I bet you could get Scott to take you on a date,” Deena teases.

  I think of Scott’s pretty light blue eyes and soft sandy blonde hair. His preppy surfer look is attractive in a sweet way, and recalling him with the children at the clinic today warms my heart, but nothing about him excites me. Maybe that's okay though. Maybe that’s better, safer.

  “Ha, what was that advice you told me Tatum?” Layla slaps the table. “Pull out a knife on the first date.”

  “What?” Rose perks up, a confused smile on her face that probably matches mine.

  Tatum shakes her head with a smile. “My Dad gave me a pocketknife, taught me to use it, too. So I always found ways to show boys that I had it.” She slides out of the seat with her bag of trash, her little black romper shows off her long tan legs as she stands to her full height. We all follow her out. “Sometimes it's carving my initials into trees, or cutting up my steak with it.” She laughs. “It all depends how bad the date’s going.”

  “That's crazy. Do you still carry the knife?” Rose questions, brushing unseen crumbs off her shorts.

  Tatum holds open the door for all of us with her long, slim arm. “Of course. You don't grow up in Homestead and not carry a knife. It's ingrained in me now.”

  “Don't let her fool you. Our little ballerina grew up outside of Homestead.” Deena flaps her hand to Tatum who's the definition of a classic beauty with her brown hair pinned back in a bun and flawless skin showing under her little outfit.

  “It was close enough to see things,” Tatum demands. “But no matter where you're from, you should carry a knife.”

  “Are we going to Delta's house?” Deena questions as we walk across the street to the horseshoe that make up frat row.

  I look at the ring of lit up houses. Like last time, it doesn't really matter where you choose; the parties spill into each other, all the yards covered with people.

  “Lets start at Sig and work our way around.” Layla suggests, walking ahead to the first house. “I want a drink, stat.”

  * * *

  It's nearly one in the morning when Rose finally finds me watching a beer pong game with Deena. She holds up her phone with a bright smile, the smile that means she’s heard from TJ. “He's over at Gamma Tau. Can we go?”

  She's speaking to me, but Deena answers, “Hell yeah. I'll get Layla and Tate. Wait here.”

  “It's late.” Something that feels too much like excitement tingles in my chest at the thought of meeting up with the football players. “Maybe I'll get a cab now, and you can just go with them.” I knew where she'd end her night anyways, so I might as well go n
ow.

  “No, please.” Rose grabs my hand and gives me a pleading look. “Please just come with me for a little bit, he didn't invite me to stay the night yet. No sense in two cab fares to the same place if he doesn't.”

  “Okay.” I gave in easily, not wanting to leave her without knowing where she'd end up. Or at least that's what I told myself.

  Gamma's living room is jam-packed; we link our hands in tight grips to make our way through the thick crowd without losing one another. TJ’s in the basement, so we follow Rose to the door leading downstairs, but we're stopped before we can pass through by three guys seated in lawn chairs with neon sunglasses covering their eyes.

  “Sorry, lovelies, can't let you through.” One kicks out his leg, blocking the narrow hallway before Rose can pass.

  “What?”

  “We've got orders.” Another one shrugs. “But there's plenty to do on the main floor. Stick around, maybe I can find you later when I'm off duty.”

  “Excuse me.” Tatum steps forward. “She was invited by TJ to come here. TJ O'Connor. We know he's down there so let us through. We're Deltas.”

  The three sit up and look at each other, but their expression is hard to read with their shades on.

  “I'll call Rob,” one finally relents.

  After a quick phone call, they stand and let us pass.

  Andrew's the first thing I see when I step down the stairs. He's sitting on the couch, his body taking up the most space with his casual stance. He takes a sip of his beer bottle, but he pulls it down as he spots me. Something flinches in his features, but then his gaze flicks to Tatum and his jaw clenches before he turns away altogether, his focus back on those around him.