Handful by C.R. Grissom

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kirsty

The man can kiss. Damn. Eric has magic lips. I discreetly touch my fingers to my mouth as I wait for the elevator in my dorm building. I glance over my shoulder to see a quick flash of brake lights as Everest makes the turn onto the lane that leads to the exit.

I can’t believe I propositioned him. If I’m being truthful, playing cards, laughing with everyone showed me another side. Sure, the caregiver is always present, but I’m no longer intimidated by that personality trait.

If we allow a physical relationship to develop organically between us, we’ll get there eventually. Too bad. After that kiss, I wanted to climb and mount Everest. Since I’m the one who broached the subject of sex—but saving the friendship—I didn’t want to make myself even more vulnerable by making the first move toward his bedroom.

I’m buying him dinner Thursday. Maybe afterward? Maybe not.

The elevator doors open. Our suite is on the fifth floor and consists of five rooms, three individual bedrooms and—thank all the goddesses—a private bath. The bedrooms are tiny with just enough room for a twin bed, free-standing closet, and a student desk with two drawers that I’ve filled with my underthings.

Our common room has just enough space for the small leather love seat—courtesy of Faith’s dad—a short folding table with two padded folding chairs, and a microwave.

Stepping off the elevator, I walk down the short hallway to our door. We’ve each added small whiteboards with our names to our door earlier today. People can leave messages or draw crude images. I bet we’ll get at least one dick drawing at some point—the dorm is coed—and men are enamored with the peen. Women, too.

I use my key and slide open the door quietly.

Phoebe and Faith sit on the love seat, the dimmer switch fixed to low light. Both turn to impale me with sharp glances. “Hey.” I send my roomies a little wave. “You’re up.”

Crap.

Faith grins. “Did you take care of the dirty?”

My mind fills with all the images of the filthy things I wanted to do to Everest, but didn’t. “I’m sorry, what?”

She snorts out a laugh. “Kitchen. What do you think I meant? You’ve been gone awhile.” Faith asks slyly.

“Yes. Ha-ha. All paid up on that account. Phoebe, how was work?” I ask to change the freaking subject.

“We were slammed, but the tips were decent.” She nods.

“I’m going to get comfy, too,” I toss over my shoulder heading for my room. I change into pajamas, and then head toward our bathroom.

I close the bathroom door and blow out a quiet breath. I realize I don’t want to discuss Everest. It’s private. Most of all, we’re friends. I want to stay friends. Talking about him would feel disloyal, especially since Phoebe and Faith were his friends first.

Faith and I have been friends for more than a decade. If I speak to anyone, it will be her. She’s a vault. She won’t share. Not that I don’t trust Phoebe, but I wouldn’t want to put her in a position to maybe feel like she has to choose sides.

Phoebe is an amazing person. We’re on the path to becoming good friends. For now, I don’t want to talk about Everest with her. Maybe I’ll blab all later, if the time ever feels right.

Decision made, I brush my teeth. By the time I come out of the bathroom, Phoebe’s in her bed, door open. Faith remains on the couch. “Are you two going to bed?” I ask quietly.

Faith yawns. “Yeah. I have an early breakfast with Caleb’s mom tomorrow.”

Phoebe nods. “I’m back at work first thing, too.”

Relief floods me. Faith knows me inside and out. She’d stay up all night if she thought I needed to talk. This is her way of shutting down any sort of conversation about Everest. “I’m glad we’re sharing this suite together. It’s been a great first day.” I reach for the light switch in our common room and turn it off after Faith heads to her room. “Good night.”

“Phoebe, do you want me to close your door?”

“Yes, please. Good night.”

I close my own door and climb into bed, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. My thoughts turn to our kiss and Everest’s casual way of easing into something more. My body reacts when I’m in his arms. Our lips meet and I get this weird feeling of homecoming. It’s the oddest thing. It’s like we’ve been there before. Not just on New Year’s Eve—like before. There was an immediate sense of recognition that set off alarm bells.

*

I get atext from Matiu. It reads:

When can we hang out?

I’d canceled our tentative plans to meet tonight. It’s Thursday. I’ve owed Everest this dinner bet since I first met him. I confirmed with Everest and bailed on Matiu. Guilt takes a sharp bite. The pain hits my throat. I type:

How about next Wednesday?

He responds immediately:

Ya.

Back to obsessing over what to wear to Goose’s Taco Shack with Everest. Summer dress? Nah, it’ll look like I’m trying. Jeans? Maybe not, it’s hot out. Leggings? A possibility. I pull out a pair of cutoffs from my drawer. If I pair it with my wedge flip-flops, I’ll get a height boost without being obvious. Done.

I paw through my drawer to find a blush-colored, button-front camisole top with spaghetti straps in soft cotton. From my closet, I grab a hip-length kimono-style wrap in a deep blue with a tiny white flower print. Good enough. It’s not fussy, and these shorts are my favorite.

I’ve styled my hair into soft and loose curls. I kept my makeup simple, concealer and powder to even out my skin tone, swiped barely there color across my lids, and used a smudge-proof eyeliner to draw a simple cat-eye style. I added a couple of swipes of mascara to my lashes rather than using lash strips.

I blot my lips with a nearly nude matte lipstick. Slick on some gloss. I don’t want to have to hold my wallet, so I grab a small cross-body bag in a mustard yellow. I stuff the necessary crap into the bag and step in front of the full-length mirror we hung from the bathroom door.

My outfit doesn’t scream, ‘Take me, I’m yours.’ I’ll have to use my own words for that. Besides, clothes don’t signal intent. God.

Everest offered to pick me up, but I didn’t want him to drive here. Goose’s place is close, and I want to get a better feel for my surroundings. The walk through campus and over to the taco shack takes about fifteen minutes. Heat without sweltering humidity definitely feels better than summer weather back home.

The sign catches my attention first—Goose’s Taco Shack—mounted to a triangular-shaped building with a thatched-hut front. Spread around the restaurant’s exterior is a mix of picnic tables with long benches on either side and smaller tables under colorful umbrellas with a mix of brightly colored chairs.

Everest sits at one of the tables under a bright yellow umbrella. He’s wearing fitted black shorts, flip-flops, and a white T-shirt that hugs his chest. Lucky shirt. I’m jealous of fabric.

His tan lines—courtesy of his football pants—flash much lighter skin below his knee. Then a section of tanned skin again. His ankles and feet are lighter. At least something on the man isn’t perfect. Except, his calves are roped with muscle.

He’s focused on his phone. I’m focused on the perfection of his body. When I’m a few yards away, he glances up. Our gaze meets, his navy-blue eyes draw me in, and heat curls low in my belly. He’s the tastiest thing in the restaurant regardless of what may be on the menu.

One side of his mouth lifts in that sexy tilt. He stands at my approach. His shorts cling in all the right places and I want to spoon him up like ice cream.

“Lilly, you’re right on time,” he remarks as he pulls out a chair opposite from his.

“I don’t like to keep people waiting.” The nickname warms my heart even though it’s a crack against my height. I grab one of the menus from the center of the table. “Faith mentioned the street tacos and guacamole are the best choices.”

“Agreed.”

A young blonde waitress slides in beside our table. She checks me out from the corner of her eye. “Hey, Everest. How’s it going?” she asks in full-on flirt mode.

“Excellent. Dawn, this is Kirsty, Phoebe’s new roommate.” His tone’s friendly.

Dawn’s grin pops. “Oh, hey. Good to meet you. I thought you were some rando trying to put the moves on the mountain.”

“No,” I snicker. “I’m making specific moves on Everest.” I grin when I say it, taking the sting out of my snark.

Everest barks out a laugh.

Dawn’s eyebrows scrunch together for a moment before they relax. “Ha. Good one. You guys ready to order?”

“We’d like to start with chips and guacamole. That’ll give me time to check the menu, if that’s okay?” I ask Everest.

“Yes.”

Dawn nods. “I’ll get on that. Be right back.”

“Is that what you’re doing?” Everest asks, his dark eyes glinting. “Making specific moves?”

“Only one. I confirmed we stay friends no matter what,” I say primly. “Now that we have that out of the way. Your move.”

“Hmm,” he murmurs noncommittally.

The ironic thing is that he’s not rejecting me in any way. I may have thrown him off his game with my blunt approach. The thought makes me grin. I grab the menu to check the types of street tacos available. After a quick glimpse, I know what I want.

Dawn returns with water glasses, a basket of chips, and a bowl of guacamole. “Do you know what you want to order?”

“I’d like the carne asada street tacos, please.”

Everest smiles at Dawn. “Same, thanks.”

Dawn nods. “I’ll get your orders in.”

I break a chip in half, drag a chip through the guacamole, then pop it in my mouth. Holy God. It’s outrageous. Enough of a kick spice-wise to have me reach for the glass of ice water Dawn had set in front of me when she delivered the guacamole.

“Mmm. Faith is never wrong,” I groan.

“True. Lola is one of a kind.” Scooping guac on a chip he adds, “The same can be said of you.”

“Compliments are appreciated.” I toast him with my loaded chip. “They’ll be tallied in the plus column.”

“What’s been shoved into the minus side?”

While chewing I debate whether to tell him my number-one minus side—the fact he’s a caretaker. People who protect or champion others don’t do casual relationships. Loose, relaxed, or prone to apathy doesn’t describe the mountain. “I’ll let you know.”

“Good enough. One day I’ll share my plus column with you.” He grins widely.

His declaration tugs a smile from me. “Smart-ass.”

“Tell me one fact about you that I wouldn’t be able to guess,” he inquires.

I can tie a cherry stem in a knot using my tongue.Probably not what he has in mind. “I’m immune to brain freeze. I can drink frozen drinks or eat ice cream as fast as I want without brain pain.”

He shakes his head. “Wait. That’s impossible.”

“Buy me a Slurpee and I’ll prove it. Your turn.”

He blows out a breath. “My go-to response usually involves my sisters, but you already know I have five of them. I didn’t have a paper route growing up, I fixed arcade games.”

“Seriously? How old were you?”

“Thirteen. Electronics have always been my thing.”

“But how did you get involved?”

“There was an arcade in town down the block from Mom’s market. One day my favorite pinball machine stopped working. The owner taped an out of order sign to it. While he was busy fixing a plumbing issue, I used my penknife and took the machine apart.

“There was a blown fuse and the fuse holder was shot. I put it back together. The next day I picked up a new fuse and holder at Radio Shack while my oldest sister Danielle watched the girls.”

He takes a sip from his water glass. “When I went back, I waited for the owner to get busy in the back again. I fixed the machine, turned it on and started playing.”

“Didn’t he notice?”

“He did. When he asked about it, I explained that I fixed it for him as a surprise. From that day forward he stopped calling out expensive repairmen and paid me to fix his equipment when it failed.”

Wow. Barely a teenager and already repairing stuff. He was responsible at an age where other boys were pushing limits and getting into trouble. “That’s pretty cool.” Since it sounded like I was being a sycophant, I tease, “Not as impressive as brain freeze immunity, but it’ll do.”

He laughs. “Agreed. Anyone can watch repair jobs on YouTube. You have a superpower.”

“Damn straight. What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“My answer varied year by year. Fireman, rock star, president—now I want to write code, create games. How about you?”

“Drug dealer.”

He rolls his eyes. “Come on.”

“Okay, pharmacist, which is just a fancy name for that career. I wanted to be one forever. We had a little pharmacy in our town. The woman who ran it was kick-ass in her way. She had to convince a lot of the old-timers they could trust her. Then my mom’s mom—Granny Kay—died of a hereditary breast cancer a few years ago. I switched to epidemiology at that time. I want to study hereditary illness.”

“I’m sorry about your granny,” he says with sincerity.

A longing for Granny Kay hits me. She was a hard-ass and I loved her. “Yeah, same.”

Dawn delivers our meal to the table. I pick up my food and take my first bite of street taco. I’m instantly transported to foodie heaven. “God, this is decadent.”

He chuckles. “True.”

We eat as the sun sinks behind us, the tiny multicolored twinkle lights that wind up the shaft of the pole to thread through the canopy wink on.

Dawn stops by our table to refill our water glasses. “Can I get you two anything else?”

I glance at Everest, who shakes his head.

“No, thanks. Just the bill, please.”

“Back with it on my next pass.” Dawn glances at me for confirmation. “Unless you’re in a hurry?”

“Nope. That’s perfect.”

“Do you want to walk off the meal or do you need to get back?” Everest asks.

“I’d like to walk.” Strolling in the twilight with Everest sounds nice, plus there might be a chance to check out his butt. I’m human after all.

Dawn breezes by and drops off a little tray holding the bill and two wrapped starlight peppermint candies. I check the total, do the quick math in my head for a tip, and pull out cash from my wallet.

His brows knit. “I don’t feel comfortable with you paying.”

“Stop,” I admonish. “You’ve waited long enough for this meal. Thanks for choosing this place. Faith and Phoebe rave over it. Now I will, too.”

We both stand. We start to walk toward campus again. “Don’t walk beyond Philz Coffee.” He points down the street. “Or Goose’s place. The neighborhood isn’t particularly safe beyond campus especially at night. Lola and Phoebe will tell you the same.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“What can you break, even if you never pick it up or touch it?”

The answer pops as soon as he asks. “A promise?”

“Yes.”

The closer we get to campus more students shout greetings. Caretaker, protector, and campus emperor, Everest manages to be all three. Walkway lights blink on as we walk past the administration building. Twenty-six steps up to the top where four columns act as plinths for reproduction statues of famous Romans: Marcus Aurelius, Cicero, Augustus and Catullus stand guard over the Fortis University campus.

He leads me to the steps. I climb two steps assuming he’s leading me to the top, but he stops. He leans down to capture my lips. His kiss is like a punch to the belly, making me lose my breath and go a little dizzy. Our tongues touch when he deepens the kiss. My brain winks out for a moment or thirty minutes. Who knows? Who cares?

I wrap my arms around his neck. I want to slide my hands over his skin. We can’t do that here. I gather him closer in my arms. His hands—the first thing I noticed about him—span my back. My breath catches, and my heart stumbles, scaring me enough that I break the kiss.

He grins down at me. “I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

“Yeah.” I step out of his embrace. I need the separation to help me get my equilibrium back. “Who’s going to walk you to your car and see that you get back safe?”

“Do you care about my safety, Lilly?”

“Sure, friends care about friends.”

*

Gladiator Colosseum—a formidablestructure as well as functional stadium—resembles its namesake in Rome. Curved stone pews sectioned into large stalls comprise open seating in each end zone, while all other seating looks like most other college stadiums. The scoreboard is aligned between two asymmetrical columns.

I haven’t seen or spoken to Everest since Thursday. It’s only been two days.

It’s a kick to be in the stands knowing my friends are about to burst onto the field with Everest leading—CW and TJ behind him—regardless of actual position. Leadership suits him like athletic pants and a tight-fitting T-shirt do, which means with utter perfection.

Faith drops into the seat next to mine, passing me a soda from the tray that also holds our stadium dogs. “Take napkins, too.”

Setting the napkins in my lap, I plop the Coke into the cup holder. “Thanks. Where’s Beau?”

“He got held up in the concessions block by a group of drama peeps. He’s nearly as popular around campus as Everest. He might not make it back to us before the end of this quarter.”

I unwrap my hot dog. “Gotta say, it’s fun to finally sit here with you to watch a game.”

Her smile stretches across her face. “I know, right? It took ages for you to join me. Now you’re here and my world is complete.”

I playfully knock her elbow with mine. “Damn straight.”

Faith wears what she calls her traditional game day gear. Gladiators’ athletic gold T-shirt, jeans, and Fortis logo flip-flops. Labor Day weekend temps hover near the nineties, but with the low humidity, it doesn’t feel as punishing as it should. The student section sits on the shady side of the colosseum. I’m thankful we don’t have the blistering hot sun blazing down on our heads.

Faith fans herself. “It’s hot—we won’t get cooler temps until late October.”

“It boggles the mind. I can’t imagine a hot Halloween.”

“By then it’s cooler with random warm days. It does take some getting used to,” Faith admits.

I’m wearing a white, hip-length Gladiators T-shirt with a pair of black leggings for the game. My black trainers have a sneaky platform sole that gives me another two inches in height. They’re padded and feel like I’m wearing slippers.

“So…” she says drawing out the vowel. “How did dinner go the other night?”

“We had a nice time. You’re right, Goose makes the best guacamole. Too bad Phoebe wasn’t working a shift. I missed her.”

She pivots to catch my gaze, eyebrow raised.

Dammit.I wish I could do that. I’ve had eyebrow-lifting envy for more than a decade. Her expression shows me she knows better, which means I have to spill. “What?” I ask feigning innocence.

“Come on. Give me deets before Beau joins us. First, tell me what happened after the rest of us left and you cleaned his kitchen.”

My stomach dips remembering our scorching kiss. “I cleaned. We talked. He drove me home,” I answer truthfully without further elaboration. I stuff more hot dog into my mouth to avoid an in-depth answer.

She nudges me with her shoulder. “You came home with a look in your eye, but I didn’t want to ask you about it in front of Phoebe in case you didn’t want to discuss it. You’re the princess of privacy.” Faith takes a bite of hot dog, spearing me with what I call her laser glance while she chews. “I am your best friend. It’s expected that you tell me everything.”

“You’re right. I asked him if he’d be willing to be friends who have sex with the caveat that friendship comes first. Then we kissed in his kitchen.”

She pounds on her chest when she chokes on her hot dog. “Good one,” she croaks. Taking a deep gulp from her Diet Coke. “What did he say, pray tell?” she asks in a clearer voice.

“He wants exclusivity if we pursue.”

“That’s a given,” we both say at the same time.

She sips her soda again. “I have to say, he’s always remained friends with anyone he’s been with in the past. At least for as long as I’ve known him. What you’ve proposed is his usual. What happened when you guys went to dinner?”

“He’s a good guy. He’s funny and he doesn’t get twisted over a little teasing. An excellent quality in a friend and dinner companion. We had a good time.”

“And?” She wiggles her fingers for more.

“We ate. We laughed. We kissed.” There. I said it out loud. A full description of our date without the details currently etched in my mind. Like the way his smile lights up his face and his eyes slant with humor, and his thoughtful answers to my questions. He takes time and cares. It’s what makes him such a dynamic person.

“It was perfect, actually. Kind of a bummer,” I sigh.

She laughs. “Only you could have a record-setting date and moan about it afterward. Considering the fact we’re at a football game, I’d call him a catch. Men like Everest are unique. He’s an alpha male who’s not an alpha-hole.”

Huh.Fair take on Everest. “Brilliant observations. You’re right about both of us. In my head it’s always an either/or thing. I can choose to do well in school and avoid all distractions or choose to widen my perspective and risk everything.”

She leans against me. “Find your balance and you can have both. Life shouldn’t be all or nothing. There’s a lot of gray. Allow yourself space to grow and just be. You’ll be a better student and have a wider spectrum to fill the box called your college experience.”

“True. There’s Beau. I’d prefer not to talk about Everest. You’re right. I’m not ready to publicly regurgitate the evening.”

She nods and stuffs more hot dog into her mouth.

Beau drops into the seat next to Faith. “What did I miss?”

He’s wearing a simple black T-shirt with a tiny pocket on the left side of his chest. Well, simple for Beau, which means it’s designer and fits him perfectly. He wears an Apple Watch with the iconic Hermès double tour band in black on his left wrist. Badass and gorgeous. Beau looks like a movie star, which makes his choice to pursue film a biological imperative.

“You haven’t missed anything. Mostly we’re stuffing our faces.”

He leans forward to make eye contact with me. “Not buying it.” He gestures to the cement beneath our feet. “I can practically see the spill outline from the tea. How was your date? Spare no detail especially those pertaining to size and shape.”

My laugh spurts. “We’ve already dissected the evening, I’m afraid. You missed out. Maybe next time?” I tease.

Faith jumps to her feet. “Everest is down,” her voice wavers.

What?I shoot to my feet, peering down at the field below us. When my gaze finds the player down on the field clutching his knee I know she’s right. It’s Everest. The hot dog I ate expands like a dry sponge dropped in water absorbing liquid, growing heavy. “Fuck.” In my head I’m saying a prayer that he’s okay, but I know he’s not.

I grab Faith’s hand and hold on tight. The flatbed golf cart they use to carry players off field heads toward him. My heart skips two beats as they help him onto the back of the cart. His knee is bent. He takes his helmet off in an angry motion and knocks the back of his head against the cab of the vehicle.

He’s hurt. He’s pissed. And I can’t do a freaking thing about it.

Faith drops my hand. “I’ve got to text Gabe. Ask him to get us info.”

I can’t look away from the cart driving Everest off the field and toward the player tunnel. I’m sick inside. The mass in my stomach turns. My knees go weak and I sit down hard on the plastic seat. Hurting my coccyx in the process. Breathe, I admonish. Pray, is my next thought. I want him to be okay. Maybe it’s a sprain. Please God, let it be something minor.

“Let’s go down to the concession level. It’ll be quieter there,” Beau suggests.

I grip an armrest in each hand as I breathe in and out, doing my best to center myself. I need to remain calm. Though, it’s easier said than done.

Faith squeezes my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

I open my eyes. “Yeah. Let’s find the quiet. Get an update.”

When I stand the stadium swoops and completes a full rotation. I plant my feet and steady myself. My vision clears and I follow Faith and Beau. Worry makes my feet feel like they weigh forty pounds each. I trudge along behind them, grabbing the back of Faith’s shirt to anchor myself to her.

Once I exit the row, she wraps her arm around my shoulders. “I got you.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “He’s strong. He’ll be okay.”

“He’d better be.” I shudder at the thought he might not be his usual self. Strong, reliant, and resolute. Now hurt. Fuck.

We go down a level, moving away from the concessions because people gather there. We keep walking past crowds of people, toward the quieter end where the field remains hidden from view. Fans generally want to watch while they grab food or drink. This end of the stadium offers none of those things.

Faith has her phone in hand, texting people for updates on Everest’s condition. She glances at me. “Gabe has someone working to get information. He can’t do it himself because he has to pay attention to the game to record stats.”

I nod. I don’t trust my voice at the moment. I’m focusing on not losing my ever-loving shit right now.

Beau drops his arm around my shoulder. “It’s his knee.”

“You think a torn ACL or MCL?”

“Maybe. I watched the replay, but it wasn’t clear from the camera angle. Everest clutched his knee when he went down. It could be a sprain.”

I grow cold at the thought Everest might need surgery or that this could end his college football career.