Deep End: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (19 page)

Even though I can intellectualize
the process that’s going on, I still can’t get a handle on my emotions.

I go to my Monday classes
as usual. For some reason, my math professor gives us a pop qu
iz, which stresses
me out for a couple minutes, until I crack the problem and finish before everyone else. It’s multivariable calculus, which has just about everybody in the class breaking down in tears.
Except me.
Walking out of the room, I know I’m going to get top marks. I almost always do, anyway.

I check my phone as I walk out of the class. There’s a message from Beaumont.

Walking towards his office, I think for a second that I’ve
caught
a glimpse of Anchor and his buddy Dave
stumbling
down by the river in the distance. But it must just be my imagination. I shake the image out of my head. No matter how angry Anchor is, and how upset he is about being benched, there’s no way he’s stupid enough to go on a bender and ditch all his Monday classes,
especially
with the end of the semester coming up quickly. He’s got to graduate, after all.

“Hey, Professor
Beaumont
, how’s it going?”

“Good, good, come on in, Allison,” says
Beaumont
, closing a book he’s working on, and switchin
g off the music. It’s a newer rock song by an old famous singer from the 1960’s
,
with the voice sounding
hoarse
like one of the old blues men.

“Cool music,” I say.

“Yeah,” says
Beaumont
, with a
somewhat distracted air. He’s gazing out his office window, towards the quad. The river is on the opposite end of the quad. “I thought I saw your friend Anchor this morning while coming to my office. He
seemed
quite drunk.”

Wow, so it was Anchor that I saw? It makes me furious to think he’s blowing off his classes. The worst
thing
you can do after one serious mistake is
commit
another. I wonder if he cares about me at all. Afte
r all, maybe he’s just complaining
drunkenly to Dave about what a stupid bitch I am for ruining everything. Did we really have a special
connection
, or am I just deluding myself because
I’ve
never been with such
a
hot guy before. The
self-doubt
almost hurts as it swirls through my head.

“Allison?” says
Beaumont
, waking me from my little day nightmare.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. I was just thinking. Why did you call him my friend?”

“Well, you may have noticed I can’t pay attention to sports very well. But I can pay attention to how people around me react. And I couldn’t help noticing
that
you seemed very interest in how this Anchor character, the captain, was doing, and what was
happening
to him. It’s not my first time around the block, Allison, even though I just might seem like an old out of touch professor.”

“I don’t think…” I star
t
to
say, but
Beaumont
cuts me off.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Allison. I’ve been on this campus longer than you have, and I’ve been to school myself. I’ve seen how the jocks are, and I never like to see my students get hurt. I just don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations for this relationship. A
fter all, he doesn’t
seem very responsible—drunk on a Monday morning.”

This is not what I need to hear right now. Is
Beaumont
just trying to confirm all my
self-doubting
thoughts about Anchor?

“How do you know we’re in a relationship?” I say, trying
to
contain the annoyance and anger in my voice.

“Allison, come on, I know what I know. You don’t have to admit it to me, but he’s your inside source, isn’t he? And you’ve fallen for him. I mean, hell, it happens
to
the best of us. Back when I was work
ing for the paper, and I was down in Mexico, there was this woman…I was supposed to be
investigating
her
… Well, I shouldn’t go into details but…” Beaumont’s voice fades as he gets a dis
tant look of longing in his eyes
.

I’ve never asked him,
but
as far as I know
Beaumont’s
not married. Was this Mexican woman the one who got away? I suddenly realize, despite my anger,
that I barely know
anything
about
Beaumont’s
personal life. I know all about his past as a reporter, but nothing about what he does now when he’s not at campus.

“I mean,” says Beaumont.
“Is
this
just this a fling, or something more
serious
? No, I’m not asking for an answer. But I think you really need to figure that out for
yourself
. If it’s something more serious, you need to start changing yourself a little. When two people are so different from one another,
like
you and this Anchor are, there are going
to
be thing
s
in your personality that are holding you back, things that you have been
holding
on to for a long time. You see,
when we fall in love, or commit to another person, we need to leave behind parts of ourselves that we
thought
were very important, but in reality, they aren’t at all.”

This is the first
time
I’ve talked to
Beaumont
about anything remotely like this.
Honestly
, I’m blown away by his insights. I know that in a way he’s
right, but I’m not going to adm
it that to him right now. He may not know anything about sports, but he
really
is
a
very intelligent guy, and in more ways than I’d realized before.

“Thanks, Professor Beaumont,” I say. “I think I’d better get going.”

“Good luck,” says
Beaumont
, as I leave the office.

I wonder briefly why he didn’t
ask me about the article at all.

His words are
ringing in
my head as I walk through the campus. The sun is shining down.
It’s
alr
eady spring, and the leaves on
the trees are flourishing. The air is warm, and there’s that special spring feeling in the air.

What did
Beaumont
mean exactly when he said
we have to leave behind a part of ourselves? What would that be for me? What am I holding onto?
Maybe
it has something
to
do with how I think I’m so much smarter than Anchor. I realize here and now, all of a sudden, that even though I
love Anchor, I still feel like
he’s not quite good
enough for me. Maybe in my weir
d
mind, he’s good enough for a hot fuck
in the locker room between events
, because that’s what I expect of a guy like that. But I’m not really
valuing
his
own
skills. After all, there are
plenty
of things h
e can do that I can’t. I don’t
have that type of charisma, for instance.

I’ve got to find him.

I walk to
wards the river, quickening my p
ace. Who knows where he and Dave are now, but that’s the last place they were heading.

It’s been raining a
little more than usual this spring, but I’m
still
surprised to see the river having swollen, rising against its
banks
. The water is flowing quickly
, swirling around the boulders in the middle of the river.

I haven’t been down here since my freshman year, but it’s
beautiful
. There are trees that are hanging over the river, with pink flowers
blooming
.

“Anchor?” I call out, but there’s no answer.

It was stupid of me to think I would find him here. He’s probably off doing God only knows what at this point. Who knows what he and Dave are capable of getting into when they’re
drunk on a Monday.

It’s nice here, so I decide to walk alone, hoping that maybe being a little closer to nature will improve my mood.
Instead
of helping my mood, Beaumont’s little speech has only
succeeded in increasing my melancholy
.

Down this way, heading
South
,
away from campus, the river is deeper and the water is moving faster. I’m surprised at myself that I forget where the river lead
s
to, but I’m pretty sure it feeds into the lake, collecting all the rain from the area.

There are some wet
boulders
along the river’s edge, and I gingerly walk along them, relishing the sense of physical danger that’s been
foreign
to me
for
so long. I keep my arms extended, trying to keep my balance.

I’m trying my best to keep ‘out of my head,’ and in the present moment, to the point of actually putting my self in danger.

But I can’t
do it. I’m just too
intellectual
. That’s what everyone’s been telling me for all these years, and it’s completely true. I’m always stuck in my head. Right now, I’m still thinking about Anchor, and about what
I’ll
say to him when I finally find him.

Suddenly, I slip.

It happens so fast I barely even notice it, but before I notice it, I’ve fallen, banging my side against the boulder, and falling right into the water.

The water is flowing much faster than I’d thought. It’s much stronger. I put my feet down, but I can’t feel the bottom. It could be really deep. I’m not a bad swimmer, and I manage to get over to the edge of the river by moving my arms and legs furiously in something approximating
freestyle
. I don’t have time right now though to
worry about my form, or whether I’m executing the
stroke
correctly.

The situation is getting
serious
fast.

I grab onto the side of the boulder, but it’s wet and slipper
y
. I can’t get a grip, and I can’t pull myself up.

The strong current pulls me away from the boulder after just thirty seconds.

I’m losing strength, trying to fight against the current. I’m trying my best not to be swept away.

My heart is pounding in my chest like it never has before. Inside, I’m panicking, but above the recessed river, the calm blue sky and
beautiful
trees that gently way in the wind are a strange juxtapositio
n to my own situation
.

“Help!” I cry, finally realizing I’m not going to make it out of this by
myself
. “Help! Someone help me! I’m drowning. I’m being swept away.” I yell as loud as I
can, but I’m sure there’s no one
around.

The situation doesn’t
seem real. The danger feel
s
surreal.

I’m being pu
l
led down the river.

There’s a blur somewhere in
my field of vision, but I can’t
see what it is.

“Help,” I scream again. I’m losing
all my strength trying to fight
against being pull
ed down stream. This
isn’t
good. I’m losing my strength
that I need to stay afloat
, and I’m being pulled under.

But there’s someone.
Someone on the edge of the river.

Someone
strong and muscular, with a perfect body.
It’s Anchor! He’s running towards the river as fast as he can, moving his body like I’ve never seem him move it,
even
faster than during his races.

He dives in without even taking his shirt off, without pausing at all.

I go under.

The current is swirling around me. I’m not at the bottom yet, but I bash into a big boulder underneath the water.

Suddenly, strong arms are around me. Just when I think I’m completely lost, when I’m almost out of breath, Anchor grabs me.

He starts pulling me towards the edge of
the river, bringing me up to the
surface.

I’m gasping f
or breath, completely drenched, looking around
wildly
, still not
completely
sure what’s happening.