Page 65 of Dirty Roulette
Her eyes dart all over my face, and she pecks me on the lips. A hint of mint meets my taste buds. I fasten my eyes, fisting a handful of her hair, and pour myself in. Our lips lap together. For six seconds, she melts into me. She plunges her tongue onto the roof of my mouth.
If people are made from clay and came from sheer dust on Earth, then Payton came from soft grains of beach sand. I’m weak as a moth, and the mere touch of her breaks my wings.
“We’ll need you to put the armrest back down and buckle up sir,” The flight attendant says to me.
Payton takes a fistful of my shirt and pushes away with cheeks flushed. “Oh shit, yeah, sorry.” I grab the seat belt, loosening it as I buckle myself. Another flight assistant walks by, closing the overhead compartments.
The ding of the seatbelt sign echoes through the airplane, and the pilot comes on over the intercom. We pulled out of the terminal soon after the flight attendant demonstrated safety procedures. Payton grips the armrest so hard I’m surprised her finger bones don’t bust through.
“Nervous?” I lean into her ears.
“I’ve never flown before.” Out the tiny window, a man in a yellow jacket signals the plane.
“Oh, it’s your first time, huh?” I ask.
“Shut up.” She coughs up a laugh mixed with the sadness lingering. We watch the plane follow the red and blue lights on the runway.
“You’ve never flown anywhere?” I ask.
“No. It’s not like my Mum has money for vacations.” She’s glued to the tiny window, with her nose almost sliding against it.
“Guess we are going to pop that cherry, then.”
We come to a full halt. “Why are we stopping?” She asks.
“It’s the calm before the storm.”
Payton grabs my hand, her nails dig into my palms. The roar of the engines fires up, and she gasps. The plane accelerates, and the force pushes her head into the seat. She slams the window shut and falls to my shoulder, covering up her eyes. “Oh my god! Tell me when it’s over!”
Once we are in the air, we don’t speak much. She uses my shoulder as a pillow and plays with my hand, interlocking our fingers.
Items jiggle in the beverage cart, and I take a coffee and Payton snags a soda and snack. At some point during the three-hour flight, I dozed off with my head resting on hers. I fall in and out of sleep and her arms wrap around my chest. She’s cute when she snores.
I’ve tried to do the boyfriend thing since I dragged her out of the hot tub. Before class and practice, I make the effort to peck her on the forehead. We ate lunch together at the dining halls and I’d help her with her algebra. Payton’s eyes begged me to kiss her on the lips, and I wanted to. I only fight the urge because she wants to keep everything on the down low.
Charlie would lift a brow and pucker her lips at us. The arms would cross, and she’d flash us a dirty look with a resting bitch face.
It’s written on her face.
The jig is up, and she’s waiting for us to slip. If Payton told her the truth, life would be easier. Payton would be my girl, and I could try this love thing again. There would be no reason to sneak around and hide.
The seatbelt sign dings through the aircraft, stirring Payton awake. The speaker comes on as the pilot tells us we are preparing to land.
***
The stadium swims in a sea of colors. Fans wear the dark green falcon jerseys, waving flags, and holding up foam fingers. The scoreboard reflects me getting benched. My cleats haven’t touched the perfect grid of white lines on the emerald turf. We barely make the line of scrimmage with zero touchdowns while the Mustangs are sitting at fourteen.
The sun sets at half-time and I watch the cheerleaders rustling their pom-poms, yelling chants, and running through their routines. They move in perfect synch with one another, arms reaching over their heads, legs kicking into the air. Four girls are lifted in the air executing a one-leg stunt.
Payton’s uniform glistens as she performs a back handspring with the other cheerleaders. Her toned legs are infectious, and they pull me away from the nauseating score. Her pigtails with curls and green bow accents make my heart pound out of my chest. I’m Pepé Le Pew pursuing someone from a different world.
A mere second of her eyes darting over to me and I melt like a candle burning from both ends. At the same time, Brittni is next to Payton blowingmea kiss. It stabs me right in the chest. Both of them are mixing together in my stomach like too much vodka and too much whiskey – it’s gonna make me hurl any minute now.
Payton glances at Brittni, and then back at me. The confusion bleeds down her face. Biting her bottom lip, she turns away with a cold expression that reeks of not caring what I choose to do.
The whistle blows and a yellow flag is thrown. Someone was holding, and we were penalized. Running a hand through my hair, I stare at the Dog and Pony Show.
Brody calls out the play and the opposing linemen pounce like a pack of coyotes onto the short running back. The poor guy is not capable of making at least ten yards in four consecutive plays. I’m screaming in my head for him to run, but he’s a deer stuck in headlights when he catches the damn ball. It’s like the kid never played before.
