Page 24 of Saving Barrette

I spend the rest of the hour on the treadmill before needing to leave to make it to my classes on time. Besides the very early start, I enjoy these morning workouts because for once I don’t have to think.

When I’m finished in the gym, I take a quick shower and I’m on my way to my cell biology class. I’m dragging ass so I grab a coffee on the way there. Once in class, Terrell is already there, staring at the board and then his book.

“You’re going to hurt your brain staring like that.”

He looks over at me and flips his hat up. “I think I forgot about the test.”

I smile and hand him the coffee I brought for him. He smiles too and takes it. “You know the way to my heart, sugar.” Terrell, or T-Bone as we sometimes call him, is our center on the team which means he and I spend a lot of time together. He’s also one of my roommates.

“Anything for you, cupcake.” I wink at him as we continue to tease one another.

A chick walks by and Terrell bites his fist. “She has a nice fucking ass. The bigger the better.”

I look. He’s right.

I smile. “You have a nice ass too.”

He winks at me. “You touch it a lot too.” Being the center, it’s a given that my hands are near his ass a lot. Unfortunately.

This class is intense. We not only have to know everything about anatomy and physiology as well as biology at the cellular level, we also have to think like a crime lab and be able to process a crime scene. Why I agreed to take this class as my science requirement is beyond me. But, then again, I think I know why I took it.

A few girls walk by and smile at us. I give them a nod but not much else. I smile, knowing I’ll probably see one or two of these girls back at our dorm room later. I’ve had the same roommate since freshman year, and it’s worked well between us. He never cleans up anything, but we’re football players so it’s not really a top priority for us. And he’s the only person I know who can make twenty dollars last him an entire week for food. I think I spend that a day in coffee.

“Careful, you’re drooling,” I mumble, opening my textbook and tucking my phone away.

He laughs. “I’d drool all over an ass like that.”

Terrell Wilson gets a lot of pussy. Like a lot. Every fucking night it seems. He also has a porn stash, and a pretty decent one at that. I’m actually impressed. And a little jealous. Though it’s rare we have any classes together because of his accounting major, Terrell, a 6’4” center who most would assume is dumb as a fucking rock, is fucking smart as hell.

My major is in humanities. Everyone asks me what the hell a humanities degree would be good for and my response, “It’s going to serve me well when I’m a first-round NFL draft pick.”

My passion is football, plain and simple. I had to declare a degree when I accepted the scholarship to play football and this seemed like the easiest route. I had no idea what I’d be up against with the amped-up level of football that is played at the college level. School was important, but I knew what I was here for. I thought it would be an easy degree. Man, was I wrong.

Declaring a humanities degree as my major requires me to study everything associated with literature, art, religion… basically the humanities over the centuries. I do a lot of reading, even more writing, and a ton of research and staring at artwork, paintings, and sculptures by the great artists. And by sculptures and paintings, I meanlotsof naked women. One more bonus point for this major.

Terrell bumps my shoulder, finally lifting his eyes from the girl with the nice ass. “You should get her number.”

Every player on our team has tried to set me up. Aside from Waylon. I don’t know what it is about society, but they see it fit that every guy needs a woman to fuck. I don’t see it that way. To appease Terrell, I look over my shoulder at her, then back to him. “No thanks.”

“Ya picky, man.” And then he smiles. “What’s with you and B these days?”

I shrug.

“C’mon, man, I know yous beatin’ the meat to that pretty little face.”

If you’re wondering what the hell all that means, just ignore it. It’s Terrell, and most of what he says is like trying to read braille. If you know what it means, as you can see, I’m not exactly denying it.

I don’t answer him, and he knows me well enough to know I’m not talking about it with him anyway. It’s nobody’s business that I’m in love with a girl who just might be incapable of loving me. I know that, but still, I stay.

I stay because she’s fucking worth it, and I’m going to make her see it even if it takes me a lifetime.

LIKE ANY OTHERday, I move from class to class, study my ass off before practice, head over to the players’ lounge directly after that, relax for a few minutes and have a protein drink, and then it’s practice for three hours.

It’s clear when you look at the college football stadium and training center, all the money goes into this place and pretty much anything you want. I’m in the players’ lounge with an iPad in my hand, a bottle of water in the other, watching films from the Bear’s last game trying to see any advantage we might have.

I’m trying to get an idea of the defensive line. But like any other day, my mind isn’t on the films like it should be. Instead, it’s on Barrette. It’s hard to focus on anything but her most days. There are times when I can’t think about her, like at football camp because they run you into the ground. Other times, she’s someone I can’t seem to shake.

I worry about her. I feel like if I didn’t have her in my life, in some way, she would slip away completely. It’s far from pity or sympathy that I feel for her. What we had is so much more. Hell, what we still have is so much more.

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