Taking A Risk by Karen Monroe

Analise

Ifeel great! Johnny Nash’s “I Can See Clearly Now” is playing on a continuous loop in my head as I bop around the kitchen.

Shelby comes in and plops down at the kitchen table. She’s got bags under her eyes. Likely she’d spent all night on her computer.

I pour her a cup of coffee and frown as I set it down in front of her. “You look like shit.”

“And you’re in a disgustingly good mood. Did you get some dick?”

“What?” I shriek.

She shrugs. “Don’t deny it. I heard you talking to Tildee.”

Shelby was four years younger than me. We’d grown closer since our parent’s death. It helped I didn’t treat her like a kid. We talked about anything and everything, but sex was one of my hard limits. The topic was strictly, “don’t ask, don’t tell”.

“You shouldn’t be snooping on other people’s conversations,” I reply, then turn back to the stove to stir the cream of wheat.

“I wasn’t snooping. You two were loud. I’m surprised old lady Beetle didn’t hear you.”

Beatrice Beetle was the biggest gossip, the neighborhood watch, and the piety police rolled into one. She had a way of finding out information. Tildee and I joked she had all the houses on the block bugged.

“What were you working on last night that kept you from getting some sleep,” I ask, determined to change the subject.

“I was editing some video.”

Shelby had a YouTube channel where she posted music videos of her favorite shows. They were pretty good, and she’d developed a bit of a following.

I don’t complain about the hours because she stays out of trouble and is a straight-A student.

“If I were you, I’d put on some concealer, you got some serious bags going on.”

Shelby snorts. “Thanks, dear sister.”

I smirk as I turn off the burner. “Do me a favor and go wake up Nate. I need to get him to the church.”

Shelby grouses, “No way! Have you seen his room? There are probably gross bugs and mice in there.”

That, unfortunately, might be true since we had a slight problem with pests last year.

“Ah… c’mon!” I plead. “I’m making you breakfast.”

“Cream of wheat? Thanks a lot.”

“Pretty please. For your big sister?” I’m laying it on thick.

Shelby sighs, “Fine.” She stomps upstairs. A few moments later I hear loud pounding and she yells, “Wake up, shithead! You still got three days of suspension!” After that, she returns to the kitchen and plops down at the table again. “Okay. He’s up.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for nothing.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll make my bowl.”

Shaking my head, I leave the kitchen and head toward Nathan’s room. The door’s locked, but I’ve been through this drill a few times. I keep a butter knife in the drawer of the hallway table.

I open his door with a loud bang, and Nate flings the comforter over his face.

“What if I’d been naked?” He asks in a muffled voice.

I point out the obvious. “Then I would have closed the door and left, but you’re not naked. You’re still in bed. Get up! You’re supposed to be at Trinity by eight o’clock.”

“I’m not going,” Nate moans.

“Yes, you are! That’s the deal.”

He lowers the thick blanket, then glares at me. “It’s not part of my suspension. It’s just something you and Principal Gilchrist made up to make my life miserable.”

I glare at him. “You made your life miserable. Now get up, or I’ll be back with the cup.”

I slam his door on the way out before leaning against it with a sigh. I had hoped things would go better.

When I finally hear him moving about, I leave and start back toward the kitchen. If he had stayed in bed, I would have gotten a cup of water and splashed it on his face.

Probably not the best parenting technique, but it was effective.

Eventually Nate joins me in the kitchen for a quick bowl of cereal. Shelby is in her room getting ready. She’s riding with Tildee and her daughter, Jillian.

Shelby and Jillian attend the same high school. The carpooling arrangement worked out well, and once Nate returned to school, he’d rejoin the carpool in the mornings. I still need to figure out how to get him home during his five weeks of detention, but I have an idea I’m working on.

After I drop my brother off at the church, I head for campus. Inevitably, my thoughts turn to Mr. Muscles. I started calling him that, but I could have easily gone with tall, dark, and handsome, or Mr. Sex God.

I’m not sure if it was because of my long drought or the illicit nature of our hookup, but the sex had been spectacular. I was creaming my panties, thinking about the way his cock felt inside me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing him again, but I don’t have time for a relationship. Shit! I don’t even have time to date. I work every day, except for a few holidays here and there. A one-night stand is all I have time for.

That doesn’t mean I can’t fantasize about him, though. The memories alone will fuel me for the rest of the year. Hell! They’ll probably fuel me for the rest of my life!

Turning onto the roadway leading to the south entrance of campus, I wave at the parking attendants. I don’t see Keisha, but ever since the day my car broke down, it had become my ritual.

I park in the structure nearest my class and hightail it to Mauldin Hall. My first course is Introduction to Microbiology. I want to make sure I get a good seat.

There’s a thirty-minute gap between the end of my first class and the start of my next one, COMM 2050. I’m able to take my time and admire the lush greenery as I walk to class.

The campus really is beautiful. It’s dotted with verdant trees, and there’s even a gazebo where you can sit and take in the day. If I had more time, I’d join the group lounging there, but I walk past them enviously.

After COMM, I head to the science building to work in the lab for microbiology. I still have two hours before my shift at the library, but I wrap up a little early so I can grab a bite at the campus café. I usually bring a Tupperware with last night’s leftovers, but I’d forgotten it in my haste to get Nate out the house. Thankfully, I can afford to splurge a bit.

By the time I get to the Cooper building, the sun is setting. I take the stairs, ignoring the elevator, and make my way toward the employee room to clock in. Once I’m done, I make my way to the info desk where Claire is sitting.

“Hey there, stranger,” she says, standing to hug me.

That’s Claire’s thing. She’s a hugger.

“Hey,” I respond. “You just getting on shift or off?”

“Off. Me and Josh are meeting up with some friends at Rocco’s.” She looks around slyly and lowers her voice. “You should tell Marnie you don’t feel well and join us.”

Marnie was the head librarian for the night shift, and my direct supervisor.

“Nope. She saw me when I walked in.”

“Pooper,” she pouts. “Well, text me if you change your mind.”

“I won’t. Go have fun. Tell Josh I said wassup.”

Claire grabs her stuff from the cabinet under the counter. She has a large shoulder bag and one of those trendy designer purses. I just have my book bag and I replace my worn Jansport in the space where her bags had been.

“Alright, but we might still be there when you get off,” she grins, leaning against the counter to peer at me suggestively. “I could introduce you to Josh’s friend, Shawn. He’s really cute.”

Mr. Muscles wasn’t cute. He was handsome and manly. I bet this Shawn character didn’t even have hair on his chest.

“Not tonight, but don’t stop inviting me,” I say truthfully.

One day I hope I might have the time to take her up on the offer.

“Never. Have a good one.”

I smile at her, waving goodbye as she walks away.

Unerringly, my gaze falls to the station where Mr. Muscles had been sitting on the night we met. Images flood my mind as I remember how his large hands spanned my waist while he pounded into me.

I can’t help wonder what he’s doing right now.

* * *

Will

Practice was a beast today.Wednesdays usually were.

I’m already dreading tomorrow’s practice, especially if Coach Gary, the defensive line coach, runs us through a shit load of drills again.

Yet, even though my body is tired, my mind buzzes with anticipation. Now that practice is over, I can go to the library.

My right foot taps restlessly as the image of my mystery redhead comes to mind. The need to find her has become an obsession. I’d gone to the library this week on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday around the same time I met her. Each time I sat at the same computer station near the info booth on the second floor, hoping to glimpse her.

I was praying I’d see her again tonight, Wednesday, since that had been the day when I saw her last. My metaphorical fingers are crossed.

As soon as the ice bags on my knees melt… I’m on my way.

Suddenly, there are several shouts and catcalls in the locker room. I don’t need to look up to know Jackson Bishop is making his presence known. The guy goes out of his way for attention.

He sits down next to me on the long bench in front of my locker, his eyes on the ice bags strapped to my knees.

“What happened?”

“Shuttle drills,” I grumble.

Jax nods. “Coach G on the warpath?”

I snort. “You know he went to Louisville.”

We play the Cardinals next week and their record is almost as good as ours. Coach Gary made a bet with the Louisville head coach every year for bragging rights; hence the reason he ran the D-line like dogs today.

“Whatcha got going on tonight?” Jax asks. “Some of us are about to hit up Rocco’s.”

I shake my head. “I need to study.”

“Dude! You don’t need to study! You have like what? A 4.0 GPA?”

It was actually higher than that, but I didn’t want to brag. “I still need to study. I have a presentation for ECON and a paper to write for my management class. “

I’d already finished the basic outline for the paper, and Lin was creating the presentation. But Jax could be persistent.

Jax narrows his eyes and peers at me. “There’s something going on.”

“Yeah, me icing my knees.”

He shakes his head. “Naw. It’s something else.” He claps his hands as his eyes widen. “I know what it is! You banging Cheyenne again.”

Hell would freeze over before that happened, but I’m not about to volunteer any information. “Mind your own business and stay out of mine.”

Jax hoots with laughter. “So feisty! You can keep your secret for now, Willy Gilly, but I’ll find out, eventually.”

I flip him the bird and he laughs as he walks away.

The locker room is clearing out, and the bags of ice have melted into bags of water.

Reaching into my gym bag, I pull out a pair of jeans and a brand new Nike T-shirt. Normally I’d just put on some jogging pants, an old shirt, and some slides, but I don’t want to look like the local sports bum.

My mother always said, “dress for what you want”. What I want is the name of my mystery redhead, her phone number, and—of course—to fuck her again.

I’d put on a monkey suit—an actual monkey suit—to make that happen; though, I hope the jeans and Nike tee will do.

The library is almost empty.It’s still early in the semester, so I guess no one is cramming for tests.

I’m glad. It makes looking for her easier, and I roam through the first floor to make sure she’s not there before I head up the stairs.

My gaze lights on the info desk and I brace myself for disappointment, but a flame of lustrous red hair stands out like a beacon.

She’s here, sitting right in front of me. My steps slow. I don’t want to alert her to my arrival. I need to savor the sight of her. This is like a dream come true.

For the last six days, she’d been a ghost in my mind I’d been unable and unwilling to exorcise. Now she’s here in the flesh, and my cock tingles, knowing she’s so near.

I walk up silently behind her. I’m close enough I can see over her shoulder. She’s flicking through her cellphone looking at recipes on Pinterest. White earbuds are nestled in her ears.

Smiling, I move around the round-shaped desk until I’m in front of her. My mystery redhead raises her gaze slowly to look at me. Then she blinks twice before rearing back, her hand pressed to her chest.

She rips the earbuds out of her ears and glares at me. “Ever heard of announcing your arrival?”

I smirk as I inhale her fruity scent. “You’re working at the info desk.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t announce yourself.” She points at the bell on the counter. “That’s what that’s for.”

I tap the bell so it rings once and smile widely. “Happy?”

Her lips press together as she looks at me. “How can I help you?” She asks in a businesslike tone.

“Well… I met this girl last week, but she wouldn’t give me her name. I’m hoping to remedy that.”

Her lips twist like McKayla Maroney. She’s clearly not impressed.

“Sounds like a personal problem. Can I direct you to a book in the psychology section?”

I lean forward, trying not to laugh. “You think psychology will help me get her name?”

She shakes her head, smiling. “No, but it can’t hurt.”

I refuse to accept no for an answer and try another tactic. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

She tilts her head to the side. “Have you ever considered there’s a reason she doesn’t want you to know her name?”

Did this mean she had a boyfriend? I couldn’t accept that and shake my head. “I have considered it, but I dismissed it.”

“Why would you do that?” She asks, one brow raised in inquiry.

I level my gaze, staring deeply into her blue-gray eyes. “Because the only reason I can imagine why she wouldn’t give me her name is because she has a boyfriend. And if that’s the case, her man’s not doing his job, which makes her fair game for me.”

Her lips purse together as her eyes widen. “Let’s say she doesn’t have a man, but just doesn’t want to get involved. And that’s the reason she doesn’t want to give you her name.”

I roll my eyes. “I would say that’s a stupid ass reason.” Grabbing a seat from an empty computer station, I sit next to her and stretch out my long legs. “I would also say knowing her name doesn’t mean we’re involved.”

She huffs and swivels in her chair to face me. “What is it about the concept of a one-night-stand you don’t understand?”

Glad we’re off the third-person BS, I grin widely before saying, “I understand the concept perfectly well.”

“No… I don’t think you do. Because if you did, you would know there’s no communication after a one-night-stand.”

I laugh loudly, causing several heads to turn my way. “I’m not sure where you got that from, but that’s not included in my definition.”

She sucks in a deep breath before angling her head back toward the ceiling.

I’m not stupid, and I am a pretty good judge of body language. She’s weakening. Essentially, she has shown me her neck. Ever the competitor, I go in for the take-down.

“Maybe that’s the problem here. We have two different definitions and we need to sort that out. Why don’t we start with the basics.” I reach out my hand. “Hi! I’m William Gilmore. And you are?”

She glances at my hand warily, but after a moment she places her smaller hand in my grip. “Analise Pruitt.”

Bingo!

My first mission accomplished. Now I just need her phone number. Then we can find somewhere quiet, where she can have her way with me… again.

My mouth waters.