Page 3 of Notorious Man on Campus

Dylan and Roman follow me into my room after dinner. I don’t bother to stop them as I simmer with fury and fear. They’re on my side. Even if Majik isn’t. As soon as the door is closed behind Roman, Dylan starts in.

“Who the fuck is Nyla to you besides your brother’s old flame?” I can’t say much until I’ve had a chance to talk to Nyla and we get our story straight.

“I told you. She cooked and cleaned for my family. My brother dated her for a short time.” He snorts and sits in my desk chair. I sit in the oversize bronze leather chair my dad gave me last year after we won the championship. We call it the king’s chair. It’s hard and uncomfortable, but I make the most of it. Grabbing the football off the table next to me, I toss it in the air to just short of the ceiling and catch it, then repeat. It’s a small but effective exercise in ball control I got in the habit of at twelve because I saw my brother doing it. My attention on the ball signals the close of the discussion about said brother.

I look at Roman. “How’s Tony’s shoulder? Is he ready?” The team’s trainer says he is and Tony says he is, but I want Roman’s opinion since he lines up against him in practice and can tell better than anyone if he’s off. This game is against our hottest rivals, and they have a kickass defensive line. We need Tony.

“He’s at ninety percent. He’ll hold up. And you know Sam is killer this year. Lost a little weight and improved his quickness.” I nod and smile.

“Exactly what I like to hear. Just enough stress to make it interesting.”

“We’re going to win,” Dylan says. “No question.” I fire the football at him, hitting him in the breadbasket. He emits an audible oomph, steps back, and laughs. “What? Too cocky for you?”

“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t a shade too cocky. But don’t change on my account.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, stretching the grin across his face. “Allie likes me the way I am and her opinion trumps yours. Sorry, bro.”

I shake my head. He’s not the first guy to change his allegiance from the team and his friends to his girl. Kace, my former best friend, is a case in point. A frown starts to form, but I shut it down.

Roman says, “Who knows, maybe this girl Nyla will make the mighty indifferent Brick change—”

“Fuck you.” I grin because there’s no malice. But a sliver of fear trickles in, slipping up from the depths of where I’ve hidden all those soft feelings, the kind I once felt for the fairer sex. I shove it down with gusto. “She’s just another girl I once knew.”

“You sure that’s all she is?” Dylan says. He’s relentless with his curiosity. Literally. I could threaten to beat him up, though we’ve never actually come to blows, but it doesn’t discourage him. He claims that’s what makes him a true friend, being undaunted by conflict between us. “The spark between you two could light an igloo on fire.”

Roman laughs and I try to stay neutral, but it’s damn hard to do with my gut in knots. I usually have no problem keeping women at arm’s length, strictly in the acquaintance and entertainment zone. I’ve kept out of all relationships with females since stepmother number three left.

Except with Nyla. I’m involved even if my feelings are sheer disgust, even if our relationship is that of enemies. She’s under my skin and crawling all over me and that’s way too close for comfort. I don’t want to feel a thing for her, not even mild dislike or annoyance, let alone the hate that burns in my chest when I lay my eyes on her.

All the turmoil of the last time I saw her, of what happened with her and my brother and dad, threatening our already precarious family bonds, returns. I thought she was gone from my life. I thought the threat to our family was gone.

Changing the subject, I say, “I suppose you’re bringing Allie to Kace’s wedding.” It’s two weeks away, before the AHL hockey season. He and Glory are getting married and I wish they weren’t. The wedding’s in Rochester, New York, where they moved while Kace plays for the city’s minor league team. I take a black licorice stick from the always-full jar on the corner of my desk, and put it in the corner of my mouth, clamping down on it with my molars for that satisfying sweet and sharp taste, a lot like life.

“Of course. How about you? You bringing a date?”

I shake my head. “You know I don’t date.”

“Sure, but this is a special occasion and you’re the best man. Maybe that just-a-girl-you-once-knew Nyla would go with you.” His grin is about to morph into laughter because he enjoys annoying me. I try not to show it, but my jaw clenches, and he always manages to get to me. Usually it’s something harmless. But the topic of Nyla is far from harmless. I can’t tell him she’s my enemy, the last person I could date even if I wasn’t dead set against dating. Dating implies a relationship and caring, and those aren’t things I associate with females.

“I’m going to the wedding under protest and only because it’s Kace. I don’t believe in marriage.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dylan scoffs. “Everyone gets married sooner or later. You’ll find someone, meet your match one day. Some woman will break you, get through that vault where you hide your heart. You’ll have to trust her, be vulnerable and take a chance.” He eyes me. Somewhere along his speech he went from teasing to serious and I hold myself as still as possible while my heart beats wildly as if he’s taking potshots at the vault surrounding it with his words. “You need a good woman.” He tosses the football back to me, reliving the momentary tension. “Besides, your father believed in marriage—”

“And look how that turned out.” I snort a half laugh because Dylan is one of the few who know about my father’s three horribly failed attempts at marriage. After we lost my mother.

“I don’t know about marriage, man” Roman says, “but weddings are fun. I’ve been to a million of them. Good place to meet willing chicks. Gets them in a romantic mood.”

“And you don’t see a problem with that?” I’m not one to lead girls on. In fact quite the opposite. It’s what I’m notorious for. Spelling out the terms right up front to any girl interested in a night of bliss. Another thing I’m notorious for.

“No, it’s not like that.” Roman shrugs and I know he hides a soft heart under the crust of a so-called player. He doesn’t fool me with his insistence that he’s good with bachelorhood.

“I date ‘em if I like ‘em,” he says. He gives me a belligerent lift of his chin and I smile, shaking my head.

“To each their own. Me? I’ve never been to a wedding.” I’m not counting the one where my dad married my first stepmother. I was a child.

Dylan hoots and Roman opens his mouth in shock and nothing comes out.

“You have to be kidding?” Dylan slaps my back. “You’ll have a ball.”