On a Wednesday by Whitney G.
Kyle: Then
Senior Year
Pittsburgh
Hours later
“Please behave this weekend, gentlemen!” The offensive coordinator stood in front of me, looking right into my eyes, the moment the bonfire ended. “There’s no game until next Saturday, but we don’t need any unnecessary distractions as we embark on this historic season, do we?”
“Sir, no, sir!” The entire team responded to him.
Well, everyone except me because I didn’t believe in making promises that I couldn’t keep. That, and I didn’t consider sex “unnecessary” in the slightest.
“I said, we don’t need any unnecessary distractions as we embark on this historic season, do we?” He repeated, keeping his eyes on mine.
“I heard you the first time.” I smiled. “Why does it feel like you’re only talking to me, though?”
“Because I am, Kyle.” He crossed his arms. “I fucking am. Don’t you dare throw that off-campus bonfire this year.”
“Bonfire?” I shrugged. “We just had the official bonfire tonight.”
“You know what the hell he’s talking about, Kyle!” Coach Whitten, the head coach and the guy who I’d come to regard as a father, called out from across the room. “Go home and watch some game film tonight. No parties.”
“That’s what I was planning to do, Coach,” I said, stepping closer to Grayson. “Ask the well-behaved Mr. Connors.”
Grayson shot me a “You’re so full of shit” look, but he took my side.
“It’s true, Coach Whitten,” he said. “Kyle will be with me tonight.”
“Well, in that case, the entire coaching staff can sleep easy.” Coach blew his whistle. “Everyone is free to go until tomorrow afternoon’s practice.”
My teammates stampeded out of the room, grateful for a rare day without a mandatory evening drill.
“Do I even want to know what you have planned for tonight?” Grayson asked as we walked out of the room.
“I’m dropping by a house party on Ophelia, then Dawson, then Ginza’s.”
“You’re doing three parties in one night?”
“It’s senior year,” I said. “I have to go as hard as I can long before TMZ Sports will report my every move after the draft, you know?”
“Or, you could say, ‘Hey, I’ve had enough fun for twenty guys combined over the past three years, and I’m going to give it a rest and get serious for the final two semesters.’”
“I mean, I could say that if you just want to hear me utter those words…”
“You’re the worst, Kyle. Truly.” He laughed. “What time do you plan to get back to our place?”
“Maybe five or six. Long after you’re done watching game film.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Be careful, Kyle. We both have a lot to lose this year, and you know I almost came close to that.”
“Thanks for the lecture, Dad.” I smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Will you really?”
“No.” I patted his shoulder. “But I’ll tell you all about the party later, unless you want to join me?”
He looked tempted, but he shook his head. “I’ll see you at home.”
“Suit yourself.”
Around midnight, I parked my car on a curb near Dawson Street. Since this was one of the most popular off-campus blocks, almost every house was fitted with a basement that was prime for partying.
The slumlords had even joined forces with the landlords and put reinforcements in all the walls, since they knew the late nights were inevitable.
As I was stepping out, my phone sounded with a call.
My mother.
I stared at the screen for several seconds, silently debating whether this was worth handling now or later.
“Yeah, Mom?” I answered before it went to voicemail.
“Why haven’t any of those ESPN cameras ever showed up to our house to interview me and your dad?” she asked. “Surely, they want to hear what we have to say about you.”
I sighed. This definitely could’ve been handled later.
Or never.
“We turned on ESPNU last night and there was some ugly brunette impersonating me, Kyle,” she said.
“It wasn’t an impersonator!” My dad called from the background. “The world is coming to an end soon. They’re replacing all of us, and you got a glimpse of your imposter. That may not even be Kyle that you’re talking to right now, Mary.”
“I think it is …” She hesitated. “Is this my son? The real Kyle Stanton, or the one that’s replaced him?”
“It’s the one that’s replaced him.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Well, can you tell us how to reach the real one? I need to ask him some questions.”
“I’ll have him call you.” I ended the call and damn near tossed my phone into the gutter.
My parents were still shells of the people they used to be, and to say our relationship was “strained” was putting it nicely.
After losing my younger brother in a car accident they caused over a decade ago, they’d slipped out of reality in favor of a shared dystopia that didn’t exist.
Once my biggest fans and cheerleaders, they’d slowly transformed into my biggest skeptics and haters.
They stopped coming to my high school games, stopped driving me to practice, and stopped giving a damn because they felt like “it was only a matter of time before they lost their second son, too.”
Shaking away the painful thoughts, I put my phone in my pocket and walked down to 3257.
I needed a release tonight, more than ever.
The music was blaring so loudly, that the windows shook, so I didn’t bother knocking on the door.
I walked inside, and a group of girls I’d never seen on campus before—obviously freshmen, smiled and waved at me from the kitchen.
Spotting a few of my teammates, I walked over to them.
“About time you showed up,” Trevor, our team’s kicker, said. “I was beginning to think that I’d have to handle all of the girls by myself.”
“So, you haven’t spoken to any of them yet?”
“Exactly.” He smiled. “I follow your lead as always. Is Grayson joining us?”
“Doubtful. He’s Mr. Cautious now.”
Before I could ask him how long he planned to stay, a redhead stepped in front of me and caressed my chest.
“Yes?” I smiled at her.
“Sorry for interrupting, but can I talk to you for a minute?”
“I’m listening.”
“I mean, in the bathroom.”
“Of course.”
“You make it look so fucking easy.” Trevor muttered, as I clasped her hand and led her through the crowd and into the small bathroom.
Usually, this led to a quickie against the sink and a shared smile whenever we happened to run into each other on campus again, but she wasn’t doing that.
She was smiling and taking a seat on the edge of the tub. “So, what number do you think you’re going in the draft?”
I raised my eyebrow. “What?”
“What number do you think you’re going in the draft?” She repeated.
“Hopefully top five, but I don’t get a choice in that.” I crossed my arms. “I’m not really in the mood for a conversation right now.”
“I know that, but I have to make sure that we’re being safe.”
“I have condoms.”
“No, safe in another way.” She stood up and walked toward me, pressing her hand against my cheek. “You’re months away from making millions more than I ever will, and I just want to make sure that this never gets out.”
“Come again?”
“I just submitted a project that is going to gain national attention in the engineering field,” she said. “I want to be sure you don’t say anything about my darker side.”
I never do. “You came onto me, not vice versa.” I was getting slightly confused. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Joanna.”
“Well, Joanna, seems like you have reservations, so let’s just leave and forget this moment ever happened.”
“No, wait. Well, I want to have sex with you.” She ran her fingers through my hair. “Before anyone else finds us.”
I stared at her for a while, tempted, but everything she said before her name gave me pause. The lust-filled look in her eyes was taking on a different meaning, and I couldn’t help but think that her “I just want to make sure that this never gets out,” was more of a threat toward me, than protection for herself.
“What type of engineering project is it?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s super complicated.” Her hands were still in my hair. “I couldn’t possibly explain all the details in a few minutes.”
“Of course, you can.” I gently pushed her hand away. “My teammate had to do it last week when he presented his senior thesis idea. What is it?”
“Um …” Her cheeks reddened. “Lego robots, but they can do a lot more than the typical basic robots.”
“You’re spending thirty-thousand dollars a year in tuition to play with Lego blocks?”
“Yeah.” She smiled. “Sex now?”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “We can definitely do that, but I need you to text me first.”
“What?”
“Take out your phone,” I said, pointing to her purse. “Then let me give you my number, so you can send me a text that says, I want you to fuck me, Kyle.”
“I’m sorry?” She let out a nervous laugh. “You want me to write a contract?”
“No, I want you to give me consent.”
“Me standing here in front of you means that you have it.”
“I want it in writing.” I kept my eyes on hers.
She looked at me as if I was insane, but I shrugged and pointed to her purse once more.
“If you think I’m the type of girl that’s planning to blackmail you years later, or stir up drama after you get drafted with some crazy lies and allegations, then you’re sadly mistaken. I just want to have sex.”
“Then pull out your phone and send me the text.”
She didn’t make a move.
“Thank you for making things clear for me.” I cut her off and turned around, leaving the bathroom.
I had no desire to be at this party anymore, so I shot my teammates my “See you at practice” signal and made my way through the crowd.
Here or there, other girls blushed and made eye contact, but I wasn’t interested.
I’d watched Grayson get railroaded by a girl’s fake allegations over the summer, never thinking I’d run into someone who would even try to do that shit to me.
Even though the investigation had gone in his favor, for some people, it still wasn’t enough, and I never thought it would force me to change my hooking up approach for the senior year.
When I made it back to my car, I sped off and took a long ride around campus—making myself promise that I would be far more careful with the draft on the line.
By the time I made it home, it was three o’clock in the morning, and Grayson was sitting in front of our living room television analyzing last season’s game film.
I plopped right next to him and took out my notebook.
“Have fun tonight?” he asked.
“Tons.”
“No explicit stories to share?”
“Pass the goddamn pen, Grayson.”
He laughed, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was somewhat right about me having to change my M.O. this year.
Fuck.