Chapter 2 – Ten Years Later

—New Message ✉ 'Steve'—

@Steve: [How was the party last night?]

[It sucked, if you ask me. Where the hell were you?]✓✓

@Steve: [I'm sorry, Dad was having trouble in the workshop and you know the shit I was going to get out of it if I didn't stay. (ಥ﹏ಥ)]

[Man, tell your Dad to chill]✓✓

@Steve: [Say the same to your reflection in the mirror :v]

[Fuck you.]✓✓

@Steve: [Why don't you just come out so we can go? I've been waiting out here for fifteen minutes. I mean, what the hell are you up to?]

[You can't rush perfection.]✓✓

@Steve: [But I can rush my foot up your ass if you don't come out right now. (ノ°益°)ノ]

[I'd like to see you try.]✓✓

I lock the screen and save the phone in my jacket pocket. I do a last sweep around to make sure to not forget anything, grab my backpack and trot downstairs.

“Good morning, Ellie.” The cleaning lady has been working here for two years. She's short, with gray hair, and sometimes talks too much, but she's quite nice and very thorough in the work.

“Good morning, Mr. Jasper!” Says cheerfully, while cleaning the glass table in the middle of the living room. “Are you going to have breakfast?”

“No, Steve's waiting for me outside.” I pick my keys off the wall pendant and head for the door. “I’ll grab something on the way.”

“Okay. Have a nice day, young man.”

“Thank you, Ellie.” I wave goodbye and exit the house.

The sun is high and its rays are strong, I slide my sunglasses on and walk straight down the many stairs to the entrance. Steve's Porsche 718 Cayman is barely a couple of days old, so the red paint still glows brightly. He unlocks the codriver’s door for me and I get in, leaving my bag in the back, we high-five and he starts the car.

“If we're late, it's your fault.” That’s his greeting after a weekend of not seeing each other. The gates of the house open so we can get out, I gesture farewell to the security guard when we pass him.

“If we're late, it'll be because of your weak driving technique.” I roll the eyes and dangle an arm out the open window.

“Dude, please tell me that Jessica didn't hook up with anyone last night.” Begs.

“I don't know, I wasn't paying attention to her.”

“Seriously?!” Squeals annoyingly. “Come on, Jas. I specifically told you to keep an eye on her. Now, how the fuck do I know if she's the good girl that seems to be?”

“You can't judge that at a party.” I roll the eyes again. “That’s the worst place to do it, nobody knows what they're doing with illegal amounts of alcohol in the system.”

“But at least it'll give me a clue.” Sighs. “Last time I trust you with something like this.”

“Sounds perfect to me.” I laugh when I hear him grunt. “The practice will be brutal.”

“We'll melt.” Agrees. “The sun is fucking intense today.”

“Did you ask your mommy for the sunscreen?” I joke and hits my arm.

“Fuck you, asshole.” We laughed and spent the rest of the trip listening to Rammstein and Lamb of God songs on the car's player.

When we arrive at the university, we are greeted by the huge crowd of students in the driveway who slow us down even more by blocking the parking lot. Steve has to maneuver subtly so as not to hurt anyone, but that doesn't stop him from sticking the head out of the window and ranting some insults.

“I swear to God, I'll kick your ass if you don't get out of my way, Peterson!” The kid runs away scared, and we finally find an unoccupied space to park.

“What's with you and asses?” I grab my bag and jump out, closing the car door behind me. “A new fetish o some shit like that?”

“Oh, no. That's your league, pal.” Pats me on the back and I laugh as we make our way to the big main yard.

Behold, the great University of Michigan. Founded in 1817. It has about fifty-nine thousand students, one of the largest research budgets of any university, and rejoices with the third-best college football team in the United States, the Michigan Wolverines, which is why I decided to study here. People greet us as we advance like we're superstars, but I ignore them all.

This growing popularity bothers me since I can't do or say a damn thing, when everyone finds out and divulge it at faster than a blink. Once they even published a picture of me while I was changing in the locker room, fortunately, I still wore my underwear.

I am not one of those who take advantage of it, obtaining what they want by coaxing people around the pinky finger. On the contrary, I attempt to keep people away from me, with only a few exceptions, such as Steve Thompson. I met my best friend about three months after I was admitted. His dad owns a prestigious auto service business downtown, and his mom has a lovely coffee shop that we always visit after classes.

Steve was a pain in the ass at first, but it got easier to deal with as time went on, plus he doesn't give a shit that I'm bisexual, never judged me, or looked down on me while seeing me hitting on some guy, which is great. But Coach does ask me to be discreet about my dates.

“Look, there's your big friend Matthew.”

He points with the chin in the direction and my fists clench when I spot him. The captain of the hockey team, Matthew Connor, is sitting at one of the tables in the courtyard surrounded by all his mindless buddies, laughing like a constipated seal. He notices me, grimaces before ignoring me as I walk by. Yes, the hatred is mutual.

“Friend?” I snort. “I think the sun is killing the few brain cells you had left.”

“Well, they weren't of much use anyway.” Shrugs.

“Good thing you're admitting that.” We laugh, stepping inside the cafeteria.

Luckily, we arrived in time to devour like hungry wolves a “quick” breakfast, before the start of the first period. So, we get in line and without having to say anything, everyone steps aside to let us order first, patting us on the back and congratulating us for winning the game last week.

Okay, popularity has its advantages. We ordered three chicken and lettuce sandwiches each, a couple of energy drinks. What can I say? Jocks eat like beasts. We make our way to one of the tables, putting trays on top to sit on.

“How are things going with your folks?” Bites on one of the sandwiches.

“The same, we never talk because they're never there.”

“That sucks, man.” Nods a couple of times, swallows and bites another piece. “I mean, Dad and I don't get along all the time, but at least I have a relationship with him.”

“My parents only care about substituting their presence with money, and that I win every game.” We keep talking with mouths full in a hurry, there's no time for pleasantries.

“Well, at least you're free to go out whenever you want.” Grunts, taking a sip of the drink. “I have to go through flattery, kiss a couple of soles, and even do a satanic ritual to be released without a sermon.”

“Take advantage of your charms, you don't have to waste them on Jessica.”

“Hey, don't be an asshole!” Kicks my calf under the table and I complain. “I like her, I'd appreciate it if you'd give her a chance.”

“But, why her?”

Jessica Buenaventura. The girl has been after Steve for a while now, but that doesn't stop her from accepting dates with other guys, inventing excuses later with thousands of bullshits that only my dumb friend here believes.

The ladies fall on Steve like bees on honey due to his muscular body and striking green eyes, but he is only interested in one and the least convenient. I don't believe the “good girl” side she's trying so hard to portray, although Steve does... completely.

“I just like her, okay?” Places the now-empty containers on the tray and pushes them aside. “And a lot, I'm going to invite her to the dance next month.”

“Fuck...” I whisper, but I'm reserving my replies. I don't want us to end up fighting. “Just promise to keep eyes open, that's all I'm asking.”

“Promise.” Smiles.

“Okay, and don't forget to use a condom.” I finish my last sandwich and I drop any leftovers on the tray. “Here comes Nathaniel.”

Steve turns in the direction I'm pointing and raises the arms to get his attention. Nathaniel Gray is another of my few friends and, compared to Steve, is far more selective about dates, always staying out of trouble.

His dad works at a law firm and is one of those self-centered men, just like my dad, who believes that money can solve anything. This is illogical, considering that his job focuses on ensuring legality and honesty in any situation, but not everyone is devoted to their profession. His mother died some years ago in a car accident.

“Ladies.” Greets in a singing voice, sitting next to Steve. “If the next parties are going to be like last night's, I refuse to attend again.”

“It's a relief that I didn't go, then.” Steve says, smiling with comfort.

“At least you had some fun with Margaret.” I accuse, and Nate just shrugs with a half-sided smile. “I wandered around the whole fucking house like a ghost, and still slept in bed alone.”

“What can I say? I'm a sweetheart.” His smile widens and I stick out my middle finger.

“Is that the reason for your overflowing happiness or is there something else?” Steve crosses the arms over his chest.

“Not really, I mean, Margaret was fine and all.” Hurries to clarify. “But the reason I am so happy is because my little brother managed to do the transfer.”

“Wow, really?” Nate nods and the aura of contentment increases even more. “That’s great, man.” Receives a few pats on the back from Steve.

“When does he begin?” I ask, and we stand up as the bell rings.

“Tomorrow, it seems his dad needed help with the pharmacy and stayed to help him.” Grimaces. “I'm not too happy about him missing the first day of school.”

“He'll be here tomorrow.” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, to cheer him up. “If he's as smart as you've always told us, he'll have no trouble picking up the pace.”

“My little brother is the smartest boy I've ever known.” Chin up, proud. “You’ll see... Or not, since I'm sure he'll be stuck in the library.” With a nostalgic smile.

“Doesn't he like to party?” Our stubborn friend asks curiously.

“I don't know, he never mentioned going to one.”

“Well, here will be his new best friends to introduce him to nightlife action.” Nudges Nate on the side and smiles mischievously.

“Forget it, I won't let you be a bad influence on him.” We enter the vast salon, and settle in our usual seats. “I doubt Jimmy is like that anyway, I'm sure he'd rather have books than contaminating his liver with bad liquor.”

“I wonder why, if he's as good a boy as you say, you ended up being the opposite.” We laugh, though we keep quiet when the teacher arrives and the class starts.

“The father's curse that I've had to carry.” Snorts.

“The two sides of the coin.” Steve whispers. “So, he'll share classes with us?”

“I have to ask him, I don't know yet.” Gets quiet for a moment when we have the professor's gaze on us. “Maybe some, you know he's younger than me by two years, but he's ahead of us too.” Grimaces again. “I just hope he can adapt without any trouble, and if anyone dares to mess with him, I won't hesitate to beat the shit out of them.”

“Good, count us as extra bodyguards.” Steve jokes, and the three of us laugh, stopping instantly when we get a warning stare from the teacher. Thankfully, the hours fly by and the bell rings again, this time to announce the closing of the first part of the morning.

“Fuck.” Nate complains when we venture into the yard and the sun hits us with force. “Wanna bet Coach will take advantage of this to make us suffer?”

“Did you have to remind me?” Steve moans and covers the eyes of the sun with a hand.

“Don't be a crybaby.” I laugh and we walk towards the stadium. “You should be used to it by now.”

“Of course, but this sunlight will make everything worse. Besides...

“Hey, Jas.” interrupting our dialogue and making me sigh in frustration.

Leyla Simmons, or the torment of my existence. I call her “Queen Bee” (yeah, like the movie), so that's not a compliment. The chick has been the cross on my back since I became the quarterback of my team, with countless attempts to slip into my pants, every time I have rejected her. Not because she is not attractive, on the contrary, she is beautiful. With long blond hair, striking green eyes, narrow waist, and large legs that she knows how to show. But the external beauty, unfortunately, is not the same as the one she has inside.

She's a complete witch—for lack of a better word, she has no problem stepping over anyone—literally and figuratively—to obtain what she wants, and now the first wish on the list is to take advantage of the popularity she would have if we got together. I feel sorry for her, but I intend to stay as far away from any sexually transmitted disease as possible and, unfortunately for me, no matter how many times I dismiss her, she always ends up insisting again.

“Leyla.” I reply with a sharp tilt of my head.

“I couldn't see you at the party last night.” pouts and I sigh again. The reason for that is simple: every time I saw her, I hid.

“Yeah, well.” I shrug.” I didn't last there long.”

“Maybe you didn't have enough... motivation.” with a tone that pretends to be sensual, approaches, moving between the long fingers with pointed fingernails the necklace with a small shark's tooth that I always wore.

“Leyla, I have to go to practice.” I hold her wrists and separate her from me.

“All right.” smiles and I can see a tiny lipstick stain on one of the teeth. “I’ll cheer you on from the stands.” Winks and leaves, followed closely by the other members of her evil cult: Lucy Roberts, Cailyn Bridge, and Nicki Jensen.

“Dude, I'm worried that one day she might convince you.” Steve teases as we watch the four girls sit in the stands, crossing the legs almost in perfect sync.

“Are you kidding? I want to keep using my dick, thank you very much.”

“Where the hell is my quarterback supposed to be?!” I swear, Coach's scream can be heard all over the university.

Fuck. I close the eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. This is gonna be a long day.