Page 9 of Blitz

“Fucker.” I don’t have a problem with that. If anything, I have too much hair; I have to shave it off every week, and still it keeps growing right back in. Whoever my biological father was, he must have been a beast.

Barrett grins. “So we’re going back?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me, asshole,” he says. He turns and heads back towards the indoor track arena.

“You’re alright.”

We’re able to retake our previous seats. There is still barely anyone around. Mostly parents, it looks like. Very few students.

On the field, Blondie nudges Mason, pointing up at us. I look away, focusing on the long jump for several minutes. When Barrett coughs, I turn back to the field. Mason is still looking at me.

It’s like the entire world stands still. I lose track of time. I’m lost in her eyes. Even from a distance, I know their rich chocolate brown color like the back of my hand. Her full lips curve into a smile. My traitorous heart skips a beat, and my stomach lurches. It isn’t solely because of the questionable burrito.

I love her. I don’t want to, but I still love her.

She’s the reason I haven’t dated. Nobody catches my interest like she does. Nobody makes me sit up and take notice the way she does. Not even the slip up, the indiscretion in my freshman year, can hold a candle to her.

I don’t date. I don’t hook up. I’ve slept with exactly two women in my life. The first, the only one that matters, was Mason. The second was a drunken fumble of a hookup the week after the breakup. It was awful for both of us. I haven’t exactly been hurrying back into the dating pool.

Amir, Barrett, and Greg go out and hook up occasionally, and Miles is constantly getting laid with his new girlfriend. Wes is purposefully celibate. From what I’ve been able to piece together, he isn’t a virgin, but he has no interest in having sex with the willing co-eds who like to throw themselves at football players. He doesn’t abstain for any religious reason. He’s just not interested, and I can respect that.

I’ve only been sexually attracted to one woman in my life—Mason. Porn can get me going, but I still drift off to memories of her, of us. And there are a lot of memories. We had some good times. We were together for more than three and a half years, and once we started getting physical, neither of us were shy. I knew the soft contours of her body nearly as well as I know mine.

Up until recently, I had friends to hang out with on a Saturday night if some of the guys went out partying. Now Miles is busy with Sam, which—good for him. He deserves to be happy. Wes is more interested in his books than in watching a movie with me. And the rest of the guys flutter in and out as the mood strikes them.

I’m lonely. Sitting next to Barrett, one of my best friends, the person who knows me better than almost anyone, I’ve never felt more alone. I miss Mason. Even though it’s been two and a half years. Even though she dumped me to go sow her wild oats. Even still. I still love her. I still want her to be in my life. I just don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t think I can survive another hurt like that one again.

Chapter five

Tucker

I smell the bright citrus of her perfume before I hear her. A glimmer of foreboding runs up my spine. My back is to the rest of the dining hall as the guys and I focus on our dinner before an epic Saturday night of sitting on the couch and playing video games.

“Hey, King,” Mason’s voice says quietly.

I don’t turn around.

Barrett and Amir titter to themselves. Greg coughs. Miles’s eyebrows go up, doubt creasing his face.

Sam sets her hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “Tucker.”

I hear Mason shuffle her feet. She always does that when she’s nervous.

“We should talk,” she says.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“I deserve that, I do,” she says. “But I would really appreciate it if you would listen.”

“I’d rather not, thanks.”

“King.”

Still, I don’t turn around. “Don’t call me that. You’re not my Princess anymore. I’m not your King. I’m nothing to you.”

“Tucker, please.” Her voice breaks. “I need to talk to you.”