Surviving Us (28 page)

After the bar closes, Alyvia and I somehow make it back to Lucky’s apartment with him. He refused to let her drive home after our fourth shot of tequila, which was probably the one that sent us over the edge from tipsy to pretty damn drunk, and instead, piled us into his truck once the bar closed and drove us to his place.

I’m dead-tired by the time we make it through his front door. Graciously, he gives me a giant t-shirt to sleep in, two Tylenol, and a bottle of water. He steers me into his roommate’s bedroom, who isn’t supposed to be there for the weekend, and tells me to sleep there instead of on the lumpy couch. Even in my intoxicated state, I do a quick inspection of the sheets, making sure I’m not about to lie down in anything nasty, and once it’s passed my eye-test, I flop into the strange bed.

Unfortunately, sleep does not claim me nearly as quickly as I would like. Sounds of Lucky getting . . . well . . . lucky with my best friend penetrate through the thin walls, and I find myself staring at the ceiling, reminiscing about the last night Davis and I were together.
I miss him.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself not to get upset thinking about him, but the emotional effects of the alcohol refuse to allow that. Lonely tears flow steadily down my face as I listen to them finish, and it isn’t until they grow quiet that I finally pass out myself.

At some point in the early morning hours, I wake up desperately needing to pee
—a side effect of a lot of drinking and yet another NC-17 dream about Davis,
only to find myself snuggled up in the arms of a complete stranger.

“Who the fuck are you?!” I yell as I scramble out of the bed, getting my feet tangled in the covers and falling ass-first onto the floor.

Seconds later, Alyvia and Lucky bust through the door and flip on the light, only in their underwear, right about the time the huge guy in the bed sits straight up, obviously startled as well. I look back and forth between the guy who’s big enough to play offensive line for any Division 1 school in the country, and the couple standing in the doorway confused as hell.

Lucky is the first one to start laughing, followed by the stranger I was just canoodling, and then Alyvia. The three of them are all cracking up so hard they can hardly breathe. For some damn reason, their amusement is contagious, and I start in too until a little pee leaks out. Jumping up, I dash out of the room holding my crotch, nearly knocking Alyvia down in the process, and make it to the bathroom just in time to not make the situation anymore embarrassing and absurd than it already is.

By the time I wash my hands and return, they’ve all calmed down for the most part, and I’m properly introduced to my human body pillow.

“Bristol, this is my little brother and roommate, Mo, who wasn’t supposed to be here until Sunday night,” Lucky explains, still shaking his head and laughing. “Mo, you remember Alyvia, and this is her roommate, Bristol.”

I walk over to the burly, Hispanic guy with messy black curls still sitting up in the bed, who thankfully remained dressed in a white t-shirt and some basketball shorts, and reach out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mo.” I smile at his friendly face. “Sorry I hijacked your bed and for anything inappropriate I may have done in my sleep.”

He belly laughs, grabs my hand, and yanks me down in the bed next to him. “No need to apologize for anything other than waking me up way too fucking early. Lay your skinny ass down and go back to sleep, Flaca.” He turns his attention to each of our roommates in the doorway. “It’s great to see you again, Alyvia, but can y’all please turn off the light and go back to bed. I promise I’m not going to hurt or touch your friend. Mama would personally castrate me if she ever found out I did something like that, and I really like my balls right where they are.”

Lucky turns off the light with a chuckle as they walk out, leaving me alone in a bed with this still stranger. He scoots back down until his head is resting on the pillow, apparently not too concerned or bothered by me being in his bed. I, on the other hand, am completely weirded out.

“Lay down, Bristol,” Mo mumbles. “I didn’t want to wake you when I got in. It was late and you looked so peaceful. Sorry I scared you, but I meant what I said. I’m not going to try anything. You can go back to sleep.”

I turn onto my side away from him, and after several repositioning attempts, am finally able to get comfortable. Then, miraculously, I fall back asleep, only to wake up several hours later cuddled back up to him yet again.

Lucky and Mo take us to grab some lunch at The Hideaway, a local pizza joint, before they bring us back to Alyvia’s car. It’s here that I learn Mo is indeed an offensive lineman
—
I was right! Transferring in from Oklahoma City Community College as a second year student, he wasn’t able to attend OU his freshman year because of his high school grades, but he’s now gotten his shit together and ready to play football for one of the top schools in the country.

I tell him about my sports editor position at the
Daily
, and for most of the meal, he and I talk about the upcoming season and how the new college playoff format will affect everyone, while Lucky listens intently and Lyv pretends to know what we’re talking about. By the time they drop us off at the car, Mo and I have become quick friends. I offer my tutoring help anytime he needs it and tell him I’ll see him on the field Monday. Mo gives me a big teddy bear hug as Alyvia and Lucky kiss goodbye, and he tells me I’m a cool chick for being so skinny.

Once we’re safely inside Alyvia’s car, she turns to me with a big goofy grin. “See, all you needed to forget ol’ what’s-his-name was a few drinks and a night in bed with another guy,” she says as she turns the key in the ignition.

Unsure if she’s joking or being serious, I cock one eyebrow at her and snort out a laugh. “Yeah, sorry to disappoint you, but there’s not going to be a love connection between me and Big Mo. I’m happy to hang out with him
. I thought he was funny, and
we could probably talk football for hours, but the other . . . uh-uh, ain’t happening.”

She pulls out of the parking lot and turns the radio on, nodding like she hears me but isn’t buying what I’m saying. Sighing, I lean back against the headrest and close my eyes, focusing on the music. By the second verse, when Chris Martin sings something about go ahead and tear me a part, which then leads into “‘cause you’re a sky full of stars,” I can’t take it anymore. I abruptly turn the music off, then collapse back into the seat a teary mess. Alyvia rests her hand on my thigh to let me know she’s there, but says nothing.

Crying on and off the rest of the afternoon, it seems my brain is making up for all of the time I wasn’t thinking about Davis yesterday and earlier today by inundating me with memories. Everything I do reminds me of him. I try to take a nap to hopefully reset a little before I go into Louie’s to make sure I’ve got my job back, but even then, I think about how wonderful it was to sleep next to him every night and how lonely my bed feels.

I slide out of bed and retrieve the pouch hiding the jewelry Davis gave me I have hidden in the back of my panty drawer. Clutching it tightly in my fist, I crawl back under the sheets and hold it up next to my chest, wondering if my heart can survive the overwhelming emptiness I feel inside.

4:44AM

I WAKE UP ONE MINUTE
before the alarm is set to go off, and I smile. A couple of weeks in and my body is finally getting used to this new schedule. Flipping the switch to the off-position, I leap out of bed and quickly throw on my athletic shorts, t-shirt, and running shoes. A quick brush of my teeth and splash of water on my face, and I’m out the door.

For the entire five-and-a-half mile run, I think about how two weeks with one single person completely turned my life around. Bristol Criswell, in both her words and actions, made me realize it’s okay to mourn the loss of my friends’ lives, especially of the girl I once loved, but still make the most of the one I have left. She serves not only as my inspiration, but as my end goal. Before the plane crash, I was a determined, hard-working student athlete who lived life to the fullest. And that’s exactly what I plan to become again . . . hopefully with her by my side eventually.

My legs slow to a relaxed jog as I head up the drive to the training center—the place I’ve spent nearly every waking moment in since I’ve been home. Eli waits for me at the door, having just unlocked it for the early-bird die-hards.

“Morning, McKay,” he greets me with a big smile, checking his watch. “Time is getting better every day.”

“Yes, sir,” I pant out through my labored breaths, hands on top of my head as I cool down. “All your torture is paying off.” He laughs as he turns the lights on inside the gym and I follow him inside, anxious to see what he’s got in store for me today.

The summer before my junior year, colleges started seriously scouting me, and even though I always knew I was a great athlete, I wanted to be the best. My dad hired Eli as my strength and conditioning coach back then, who in a matter of weeks made huge strides in my quarterback skills set, as well as my overall stamina and endurance. So naturally, when I returned from St. Lucia with a newfound determination and plan, Eli was the first person I called.

“How long are you here for today?” he calls out from his small office as I start my morning stretching exercises.

“However long you are,” I shout back.

“Good answer, kid.”

I’m no fool. I know time is my biggest enemy right now. The chance I’m in shape enough to even attempt to walk onto any team this year is pretty minimal, but I refuse to give up. Not again.

Eli tosses me a protein shake and granola bar as he rejoins me out in the main area. “Eat up, buttercup. I’m gonna rock your world today.”