Committed to You (3 page)

He headed my way. I tensed. Unease filled me. My stomach twisted in knots as I waited to see what he thought of how the damn dress and shoes looked on me.

God, I hate this. I hate wondering if I’m pretty enough for him. My self-esteem keeps taking hits, and I don’t know if I’m causing it myself, or if it’s this damn relationship. I’ll have to end it tonight. Regardless of whether he wins or not. I’m not me anymore.

He stopped in front of me, still with that mouth gaping wide. “You … you look so amazing. I knew you would look good, but not … damn.”

I grinned.

I’m so pitiful.

He checked his watch. “Maybe—”

“No, Jay.”

His gaze slipped across my body and made me shiver. “You know what I’m thinking?”

“Yes, and no, Jay, we don’t have time to have sex. And if you take this dress off of me, I won’t be putting it back on.”

He rubbed his hands together. “I’m close to saying fuck this event.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I can’t wait to peel that off of you.” He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned my face and only let him give me a peck on my cheek. He raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I can’t kiss you?”

Not after you just had your lips on her.

A bit immature, I knew, but at times, I placed lines and limits throughout this confusing mess I got myself into.

“I would like to kiss my beautiful girlfriend.”

“That
was
a kiss,” I said.

“Not the way we kiss,” he said through clenched teeth.

“We’re in public.”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t. You’re not the one people will think is stupid if they figure out that you’re dating two women at the same time.”

“Not that again. I told you—”

I held my hand up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

With perfect timing, Cynthia appeared on my right and glanced at both of us. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.”

Jay crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” Cynthia asked.

“He’s being a spoiled brat and wanting everything his way as usual. Let’s go.” I stumbled off.

Jay got to my side and hooked his arm around me. “Lean on me so you won’t trip.”

It should’ve made me feel good that he came to my rescue, but instead, inadequacy flooded my chest. Cynthia got on his other side and held his hand. People throughout the lobby watched us. Their gazes seared into my back.

Oh God. What must they be thinking?

I released his arm. “I can walk by myself.”

Frowning, he extended his hand to me.

I waved it away. “I’m fine.”

“Will you be walking behind us too?” His voice came out as a deep, growl.

“I don’t know. Do you prefer that I walk in front or behind you?” I rolled my eyes.

Cynthia jumped in between us, right before he sneered. “Okay, guys. I don’t know what’s going on, but this is supposed to be a great evening. Let’s have fun.”

“I’m fine.”

“No. You’re not. You’re acting weird.” He checked my fingers. “Where’s your ring?”

Shocked, I stared at my naked fingers. “I must’ve left it on the sink. I always take it off when I take a bath. I guess between putting on my makeup and talking to Pipe, I forgot.”

He tossed me a skeptical expression. “Are you trying to say something by not wearing it?”

Cynthia placed her hand on Jay’s shoulder. “I take my ring off when I shower, too. It’s no big deal.”

Her words didn’t help. He continued to glare at me, and I refused to look away like a frightened little child. “It was by mistake, jackass.”

“Why can I never hold your hand in public?” he asked.

“Oh my God? Do I really need to state the obvious?” I directed my attention to Cynthia because talking to him further would only piss me off. “Did you already call the taxi?”

“No,” she said, “but the clerk said there are always a ton of them out front.”

“Cool.” I did my best to walk to the door without making a complete fool of myself in those heels. Jay and Cynthia followed. Every now and then, I could make out their whispers. It sounded like Cynthia was calming him down. I didn’t care.

He’s not the one who has to share a lover, or even worst, wear these heels. Put these freaking foot killers on, and then we can talk about your feelings.

Behind closed doors, our crazy three did just fine. We joked and laughed, watched movies all night and played card games. I had no idea Cynthia could be so much fun, and I hated to admit it, but she and Jay had a whole lot more in common than either did with me. Like him, she loved horror movies, and not just any, but the really god-awful bad ones, where you could make out the zipper down the back of the monster’s costume. They always vetoed me on my movie picks—usually musicals, hard-core sci-fi, and fantasy flicks. When a game came on, they watched and hooted together while I read a book. Nevertheless, I enjoyed my time with Cynthia and Jay in the privacy of my dorm room.

Out in public was another story. Maybe I was paranoid, but the feeling of being watched and judged always surrounded me. I could taste people’s vile judgments on my tongue, and my head filled with the thoughts I imagined they had.

“Why is he hugging on both of them like that? Eww.”

“Are all three of them together?”

“Those have to be the dumbest women in the world.”

“Maybe he’s their pimp.”

“What’s wrong with those women?”

No one actually said anything, but I heard the accusations, nonetheless. They crowded in. Cynthia and Jay’s cute little plan for us all to be in a relationship together might have worked on paper or on some island far away where the rest of the world couldn’t witness it, but clear social rules existed in the real world. People didn’t share like we did. They sucked it up and moved on to normalcy.

Maybe, it’s good that I forgot the ring. I won’t be wearing it anymore.

Cold New York air hit my face. Cars honked. Manhattan brightened before my eyes, buildings all lit-up with the glow of wealth and city sophistication. It was nothing like the slow beach town of Coventon.
No wonder they say this city will eat you alive. It’s already chomping on me, and I’ve only been outside for a minute.
Goose bumps spread across my skin. My knees knocked against themselves. My mind went numb. I could barely concentrate on anything but the freezing wind. Going to college in Florida for so long and growing up in California made me forget that there were places in the US that got cold in December. Really cold.

I wrapped my arms around myself. “Holy shit! This is insane. Why would people live here? No wonder the crime rate is high.”

Of course, Cynthia climbed into her evening coat, a velvety black number that went past her knees and flowed around her with stylish ease. “You didn’t forget to bring a jacket, did you?”

“I did.” I shook my head. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t even consider the weather up here. I just kept making sure I wouldn’t forget any of my books.”

“Use mine.” Jay held a thick coat that he handed to me.

“I’m fine.” I waved him away. My teeth clattered. I could swear icicles had needled into the four chambers of my heart and beat by beat were trying to freeze me from the inside. “We’ll be in a building most of the night. You wear it.”

Not accepting my answer, he placed it over my shoulders and buttoned it around me. Warmth enclosed my skin. He hugged me from behind as the chilly breeze picked up and whipped my curls around my face. My brain said to get out of his arms. My body and heart remained glued to him.

He landed a peck on my quivering cheek. “I don’t know if you’re thinking of leaving us, but I won’t let you.”

I blew out air. White smoke left my lips and lifted in front of me.

“I love you too much to let you go, Evie. It’s too late to say no.”

“It’s never too late.”

His hold tightened. “You sure about that?”

No.

But the taxi pulled up in front of us, and I didn’t have to answer out loud.

The ballroom was darkened to allow only the lamps in the center of each decorated table to light the place. My childhood pictures played on large screens hanging from the ballroom’s walls. Anyone who was significant to the business of college football sat in the space—tons of coaches, agents, NFL team owners, sportscasters, etc. And they all watched my early life unfold on screen.

“After a tragic car accident that killed both his mother and father, Jason lived with his grandparents where his grandfather introduced him to the game of football.”

Earlier, the Heisman committee had compiled the personal stories of all the nominees for the voters. Each player possessed some crisis that pushed him forward and motivated his heart to be the best. The senior from Notre Dame lost his mother to breast cancer during his sophomore year. He held a picture of her on a chain and kissed it before he ran out onto the field. The other senior from Kansas State was deaf in both ears and created different ways to communicate with his team through body language and cleverly placed symbols on his jersey.

“From little league and on to high school football, Jason knocked down the competition and won championships for his team year after year.”

This was supposed to be the best time of my life. I was only a junior, competing with two seniors, and everyone predicted I would not only win, but also be a major NFL professional player, possibly a super star. This was my night. The night I dreamed about for years—one of those wild and crazy dreams that little boys thought of as they held their footballs to their chests and closed their eyes to sleep. Every college football player imagined being invited to the Heisman ceremony. And I actually got there. That should’ve made me happy. Instead, anxious jittery nerves bundled at the bottom of my gut.

Maybe I am spoiled, like Evie said.

As my life accomplishments played out for everyone to see, I sat there with shaking hands. It wasn’t about winning or not winning a trophy, a metal award in the shape of a player that would probably be covered in dust in the back of my basement in twenty years. No, I stared at Evie with my body on edge and prayed she wouldn’t leave me.

I knew our relationship would only be temporary. She told me as much. Why can’t I just accept it?

Our table’s lamp cast an enchanting glow across her chocolate skin as she watched the film with everybody else. Seven other people sat with us, all three of the finalists and the loved ones they chose to bring with them. Cynthia sat close to me on my left, Evie far away on my right. I could’ve put a chair between Evie and me with no problem and had said as much before the event started. She’d told me to stop acting like a dick head, turned her back to me, and chatted away with one of the other nominee’s mom.

How the hell did I even get her for this long? It’s like trapping a tiger, and trying to keep the exotic animal as a pet.

Short video clips of my best football plays this year lit up the screens. A couple of people hooted. Others clapped. I forced a few nods and made myself smile, but my gaze never left her. I craved to touch her, maybe pull her over to me, possessively place my arm on her chair, lick that silky skin, or at least kiss her like a boyfriend should, but that was against the rules. Her rules, ones that made me form my fingers into fists and yearn to punch a damn wall when I thought of them.

No kissing or hugging in public.

Don’t look at me that way when it’s all three of us out.

Don’t walk to close too me when Cynthia is around. It makes me feel foolish.

If a guy approaches me, just relax. I can handle him. You really don’t have the right to jump up and act like an ogre!

Don’t tell people I’m your girlfriend, especially the ones who know you’re still with Cynthia.

The last one irritated me the most. I couldn’t tell the world she was mine and show her off. She remained my sweet little secret, a pot of gold that I could never spend, just sit in private, and count repeatedly until my fingers became numb.

The audience laughed.

I turned away from my Evie and looked at the closest screen. There was a picture of me in a white ball gown, curly wig, and ruby lipstick. I held a sign that read, “Kiss the pretty quarterback for five dollars and help stop child abuse.”

“Always full of team spirit, Jason makes sure to take time away from football and support causes that are near and dear to his heart.”

That day, Evie had dragged me down to the Stop Child Abuse Carnival, ordered me to dress in a gown to help her group raise money. I would’ve done it regardless. I’d never experienced abuse, but like any compassionate human, I hated the idea of it. Plus, wearing drag in public was no big deal to me. Pipe made sure of that when I was a teenager. Either way, I made her promise to be my first and last kiss.
And still she never thought I liked her.
She’d played it off with a few giggles and only gave me a few pecks on my cheek, which still made me stiff in my pants.