“You didn’t show up last night. I was worried something happened to you. You didn’t call or text. I’ve been losing my mind all night. They wouldn’t let me in.”
“I’m fine,” I deadpan.
“You’re not fine. You’ve been crying.”
“Say whatever it is you’ve come to say and then leave.”
With a pained expression on his face, he walks toward me, most likely to try to embrace, but I take a step back. If he holds me, if I smell him, I might not be able to hold on to my resolve.
“Can we at least take a walk so that we can talk in private, Teach?”
“Are you embarrassed about something? Do you need to tell me something you don’t want others to hear?”
“Please, Willow.”
I turn around and see a few girls still watching us through the front windows. They can’t hear us, but they obviously know something’s wrong, so I agree to take this somewhere else.
“Walk.”
“So… there’s something I need to say.”
“Uh huh.”
“And I need you to hear me out before you respond.”
“Go ahead.”
“Freshman year, I was very immature and insecure. I’d been the star of my high school football team and thought I could easily move into that same slot at CGU. After all, that’s what they recruited me for. But coach is tough, and I had to earn my spot even though it was sitting there waiting for me.
“It took me some time to understand that though, and I made some dumb mistakes that year. I learned the hard way that I can’t drink like the other guys in my frat. I black out. I forget chunks of time. I don’t remember people I’ve me… or been with.”
“Is that right?”
“My life was spiraling out of control. So I got some help over the summer and by sophomore year, I made the decision to stop drinking. Other than meeting you, it was the best decision I ever made.”
“Good for you.”
Freak gives me a hard stare. He’s angry that I’m blowing off this deeply personal story about his battle with alcohol, but my guess is that he also knows why. He realizes that I already know about Kia. He’s just taking the long way of getting to the confession.
I wait for it.
“So, baby, it’s possible and I’m not one hundred percent sure about this, but it’s possible that I met Kia during that time and I didn’t remember.”
“When you say met her, do you mean that you fucked her?”
His eyes widen at my use of crude terms that are typically reserved for his vocabulary.
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“Willow–“
“So you’re trying to tell me that you fucked around with my roommate and you don’t remember at all? Because I’ve seen you look at her ass. You mean to tell me that ass doesn’t look familiar, or have you felt up so many of them that you can’t be sure?”
“I never said I was a saint!”
“That’s a fucking understatement.”
