Apparently, nearly the whole Cyclone team was there, so about forty of them showed up, looking for trouble, which doesn’t surprise me from the footage. There must have been over a hundred people involved in that fight. The main thing that sticks in my head was the blood. Blood everywhere on everyone, it was like a Quentin Tarantino movie Jade made me watch once.
It makes me worry about Randy, and seeing him involved in the events, reliving the images of him spitting out blood as he sat on the grass. It almost made me send him a text message to check on him,almost. The thought of him being hurt makes me sick, almost as sick as knowing he was at yet another sorority party. Single with hot women all around him, and thecrowd of people caring for him once the fight had diffused was on full display at the end of all the videos, so I remind myself the reasons why I’m not reaching out to him.
I enter the café behind Molly and Jade, following my friends to the booth the server points out. I place my bag on the floor and reach for my menu when my eyes detect the group of football players. “Crap,” I groan out from behind the menu.
“Hard to miss, aren’t they?”Molly says, looking at the large table of attractive, athletic men.
Jade’s head turns back toward us. “Who’s the petite black-haired girl sitting next to Randy?”
“I think that’s Georgina. Seth’s girl friend, separate word. I haven’t officially met her, but that’s what Randy mentioned to me one time when he was walking her to class.”
“Oh.”
“Do you want to leave?” Molly asks from beside me as I look past Jade to watch the table.
“No, it’s fine.” I shake my head. “I know I’m going to run into him from time to time; plus, I’m starving.” I study the menu and divert my eyes from Randy and his friends.
“Geez, they really took a beating,” Molly expresses. “Seriously, look at them, not one of them doesn’t have a bruise or bandage on them.”
I will my eyes not to look, but they betray me. Randy’s eye is swollen half shut, he has three thin white stripes on his eyebrow and a busted bottom lip, and that’s just what I can see from his left profile. His injuries look painful, and all I want to do is tend to it.
Telling myself that it’s the nurse and the healer in me that wants to help, not the heartbroken whatever I was. Yep, so blatantly lying to myself and trampling down how much he still means to me.
How can I hate someone and be so angry and disappointed at them, yet still care so much? I asked my mom that question. Her answer was that a relationship is never smooth sailing, you’re going to get angry and not like them from time to time, but you move past it because you love them. My mother cringed when I told her what I overheard, but she also reminded me of all the things we have vented about over the years. Mom and I even had a conversation about not keeping my pregnancy, it was short lived and dismissed swiftly, but it still happened. Would people judge me and hate me if they overheard that conversation?
I needed that talk. I needed to discuss it with someone so I could rationalize everything. It helped saying it out loud, it solidified that it wasn’t the right decision for me. Just like Randy did to Seth, venting out loud to his friend about his concerns.
I watch over Jade’s shoulder as the large group of them stand, and I can’t help but watch them. My heart races as Randy approaches our table, his friends following behind him but continuing on outside. Shelby follows, holding Christian’s hand and giving me a warm smile and wave. I wave back to her as Randy stops in front of our table. I look into those brown eyes and study his face, busted, and bruised, and it makes me wonder what the rest of his body looks like.A common thought by the female student body, I’m sure.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hassle you. I just wanted to say hi and see how you are doing?”
My heart softens for him, and I offer a small smile. The anger I carried has thinned over the weeks—mostly after talking with Mom. And now, looking into that bruised, purple-tinged eye and battered face… it feels like whatever resentment was left is dissolving too. “I’m doing okay. Guessing, I woke up a little more comfortably than you. Are you okay?” I add, asking with genuine concern.
He gives me that crooked half smile that floods my memories of our fun times together. “It took three attempts to get out of bed this morning, but I’ll live.”
It makes me trail my eyes down to his shirt like I can all of a sudden magically see beneath it—every woman’s wish on campus. “Did your ribs get hurt?” I ask, my brow wrinkled with concern thinking back to some random guy who kicked him on that video.
“A little, but just bruised, not broken,” he shrugs, downplaying it, and I’m sure he senses my concern.
“Don’t worry, I’m looking after it, I do live with a pre-med student. His bedside manner is shot to shit, though.” He looks at my friends. “He throws an ice pack or frozen peas at my head when I need to ice my ribs. He has an alarm set on his phone, and when it goes off, I brace for a frozen bag of something to smash into the side of my skull. He takes great delight in it. I’m just glad the five-pound roast we have in the freezer hasn’t been thrown across the room at me.” My friends laugh at that comment, and I curse him for his compelling charisma. “Someone studying to be a nurse, I think, would do a much better job, but beggars can’t be choosers,” he sighs overdramatically.
“A nurse would do a much better job,” Molly agrees, and I shoot her a nasty look. “A mother would also be a lot more nurturing,” she adds as I mouth a swear word in her direction.
“I’ll be okay. I should make it through the night. Although, if you want to assess my body yourself, since you know it better than anyone, you know where I live,” he says, rubbing his split lip. “It could help your studies, and I want to survive the week so…” he shrugs, “I see nothing but positives from the idea.”
I do my best to ignore his comments. “I’m glad you’re okay, Randy.”
He nods, sensing I can’t give him much more. “I’ll see you around, Rachel, it was really good seeing you.”
I offer a weak smile. “You too,” slips quietly from my lips.
He gives a quick wave to my friends and disappears through the door, where his crew is waiting.
I avoid my friends’ eyes. I already know their hearts have melted into puddles at his feet. And with my anger fading week by week, what’s left feels uncomfortably raw. If he wins them over, I’m not just outnumbered—I’m vulnerable.
“Aww…” I hear Molly say beside me.
I hold up my finger, pointing to the sky with raised eyebrows. “Don’t want to hear it,” I say, cutting her off.
