Page 16 of Most Valuable Players
“It was the only time advanced econ was available.”
Vanessa pulls out a red tube top and shakes the hanger at me.
“No, not that one. Last time I wore it, I kept pulling it up all night afraid I was going to flash the entire bar.”
“Would have made the night more interesting and maybe you wouldn’t have ended up back here alone.”
“How do you know I ended up alone that night?”
She raises two perfectly arched brows.
“Fine, I came home alone.” It isn’t that I’m a prude, but picking up a guy at a bar or party seems so freshman year. Is it too much to hope that a nice guy might notice me in the daylight, completely sober?
“Ever since that asshole David, you’ve been hiding away all this awesomeness.” She waves a hand in front of me and waggles her eyebrows.
“I have a lot on my plate this semester.” Vanessa doesn’t know that my workload is double what it should be because David is blackmailing me into doing his work. I’ve considered telling her everything a million and one times, but I know Vanessa’s reaction would be to march right over to his frat and kick him in the balls. It’s exactly what I want to do every time I think about it, but I won’t risk pissing him off and having him expose me in front of the entire college...or worse, wind up on one of those revenge porn sites.
I move past her, and I know I’ve already given in when I find myself scanning the clothes on my side of our tiny walk-in closet.
When we leave thirty minutes later, I’ve managed to shower and make myself presentable. I let Vanessa talk me into a short black dress that leaves none of my curves to the imagination, but I refused the high heels in favor of my chucks.
Vanessa has practically been living at the baseball house, and when we walk in, she’s greeted enthusiastically. The two-story house is small, old, and borderline condemnable, but the upper classmen baseball players don’t seem to care as they mill around.
The bars haven’t closed yet, so the party is still small, mostly baseball players and their girlfriends and the many single girls vying for the guys’ attention. A keg sits in the dining room, and an array of liquor bottles clutter the kitchen counters. Mario already has Vanessa’s drink and is walking it over to her when we cross the living room.
“Hey, babe.” He hands her the cup and drops a kiss to her temple. He puts an arm around Vanessa and addresses me. “What can I get you to drink?”
I don’t even have to think about it. The smell of anything fruity or sweet makes my stomach roll after serving mochas and caramel macchiatos. “Vodka tonic. I don’t suppose there’s any lime in there?”
He shakes his head apologetically. “No tonic, either. How about Sprite?”
I nod my approval. I bet if Vanessa wanted tonic and limes he’d not only make sure there were limes but also he’d plant a tree out back.
“He is in love with you,” I say when he disappears back into the kitchen.
A panicked look crosses Vanessa’s face. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’ve been dating for three weeks.”
No one dates the first few months of a new school year. It’s all the excitement of new students and different situations. Guys especially, but it isn’t just them who reserve the first few months of the semester for hookups and having fun. I’d probably think he was in love with her regardless of the time of year by the way he caters to her every whim, but the fact that it isn’t even October yet makes me certain.
Before I can detail out all the reasons why I believe it to be true, Mario is back with my drink.
“Thanks, Mario.”
We stand, chatting and drinking, until the house begins to fill. Vanessa and Mario and two other couples claim spots on the couch, sitting on laps and watching the Phillies play the Diamondbacks. Neither being around happy couples or watching baseball are on my top one hundred ways to spend a Thursday night, so I venture downstairs where a makeshift DJ booth has been constructed from a card table and a sheet of plywood. The rest of the dingy unfinished basement has been cleared, and I find a few girls from my sorority holding red cups, shaking their butts, and singing way too loudly. The universal sorority girl version of dancing.
But I don’t care that I can’t dance for shit or that this basement smells of mold and cheap beer. For the first time all semester, I let it all go. All the worry about grades, David, Gabby...it’s all pushed aside as I give in to the rhythm of the pop mix booming from two large speakers. This is what college is supposed to be—exhilarating situations without real-world stipulations. After we graduate, we won’t be able to go out on a random Thursday night and let the night lead us wherever we want. We’ll have jobs and careers to obsess over. Bills and responsibilities. With David on my ass, I’ve had a taste of what it might be like to have a prick boss breathing down my throat, and I’m not eager to enter that world yet.
“I need air,” I yell over the music after the fifth song. Physical exertion has warmed my body and my soul. I move out of the circle, and the remaining girls close the space as I make my way up the stairs. I’m still moving to the beat of the music as I spot some of the basketball players, including Zeke and Joel. They stick out in this cramped stairwell, hunkering their tall frames down so they don’t bang their heads on the ceiling.
Joel notices me first, and we pause on the stairwell, holding up traffic on both sides.
“Hey it’s stat girl.”
I chuckle at the nickname. It’ll be flunked stat girl pretty soon if I don’t pass this next test.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, genuinely surprised. I assumed the athletes didn’t mix much outside of their own houses, and I can’t remember ever bumping into any of the basketball team before. I’d like to think I wasn’t so frat boy crazy that I wouldn’t have noticed.
“Same thing you’re doing here,” he quips, and we both start to move on as the people behind us get impatient.
