Trouble Read online

  I’ve since learned that the guy’s name is Jake and apparently the two of them are pretty awesome together on the field. They were teammates at the next school Dan went to after he was expelled by dad. Not that I care. Both of them are ass hats. Especially Dan. I don’t care how fine he looks. I don’t care about him at all. I don’t think about him. Ever. In fact I’ve barely thought of the guy since that night. Everybody else seems to love the guy. Honestly, I don’t see it. He’s not even that cool. Sure, he might have led the team to win the championship against Ohio state, as a freshman, but that doesn’t mean much to me. Still a jerk. I realize I’m still staring at him when Mia nudges me and pushed her bewildered looking face into my peripheral.

  'yes'? I ask.

  'Your eyes are like bee lines straight to Swanson's ass Gracey babe, cool your jets sweet' Mia says, in her sarcastic tone. I ignore her comment.

  They played amazingly, surprise surprise. There were a few times that the defense got through, but Dan didn’t drop the ball once and he was too fast to get tackled. The way his arm would shoot the ball down the field to one of his teammates looked effortless. I have never really been interested the game, but I understand the hype of it all. At one point, I even found myself cheering when I saw Dan literally leap over a guy, before running the ball for a touchdown. I’d be lying if I didn’t feeling certain types of feelings when I watched him move the way he did. Still a jerk though.

  Chapter 5

  Dan

  Another win. I knew the opposition were good from watching some tape and listening to talk, but I wasn’t worried. As is our ritual, we are celebrating at O’Rielly’s. Some of the guys are really going for it, chugging their beers, but I’ve been nursing the same one since we arrived, drinking more water than beer. I’d rather be at home and chilling out but I do the team thing, since I was elected captain. The boys need their leader there, otherwise shit can go wrong. Without the head, the body doesn't work.

  ‘Man, how many yards did you throw today’? Jake asks me, putting his arm around me as he sits back in the booth.

  ‘Wasn’t counting my dude but it was a good start to the season for the both of us’ I answer.

  ‘Damn straight it was, we are going to take this party to the NFL one day, you and me my man. You and me’, Jake says, wistfully as he looks up at some imaginary football god sitting up in the ceiling. The chances of us being picked up to play for the same team are slim, if either of us even get picked at all. And that’s not even taking into account the chance of us getting injured. But I don’t say anything.

  Rachel is sitting on the other side of Jake, quietly taking to one of her friends that she’s been hanging out with a lot lately. A girl with red hair, who I haven’t ever seen around college.

  After another three or four rounds, I say get up to leave. I face some objection from a few of the guys, but I've done my duty as captain and set a good mood for the night. I’ve got bigger fish to fry than sitting at a bar all night drinking cheap beer.

  As soon as the game finished, my thoughts were right back on mom and Daisy. Without those two, I doubt I’d have as much dedication to the game as I’ve been putting in. I mean I do enjoy playing, it just so happens that I’ve got a brain for the game as well. I can read plays ahead of other guys. I can tell from where guys are moving what my best options are going to be nine times out of ten.

  I’ve parked around the back of the bar, but the only door to get in is through the front, out onto the street. I don’t think about pedestrians before I barge out the door and knock a girl right on her ass. That girl? Grace goddamn Miller. A bag of shopping flies right out of her hand. What are the goddamn odds of me walking right into Grace Miller? I’m still taken by surprise, but since our interesting little rendevous at the party, I’ve been prepared to see her again. Not like i've wanted to see her again. well not exactly, but I have felt the need to set things right. that way, I might be able to erase the memories of my shitty behaviour out of my mind. Some sports psychology bullshit i've been reading about. Out with the bad in with the good.

  She still has that same goddamn doe-eyed, deer caught in the headlights look she had as the night I first saw her. I remember it clearly, no matter how much I want to forget.

  ‘Shit’, I say, realizing I should have been more careful, I kneel down.

  ‘It’s fine, don’t worry about it’ she says, making short eye contact with me, before looking down, as both of us start to pick up her groceries.

  ‘What are you doing out shopping so late?' I ask, trying (and failing) to act like this isn't awkward as fuck.

  Her face moves up toward me when I say her name, but her eyes are focused somewhere down at my lips, or maybe my chin. She clearly thinks about what she wants to say before saying it.

  ‘I was watching tonight with a friend but I left them at a bar just now so I could get some shopping done. Early start tomorrow’ she replies with a hesitant tone.

  So, she was watching me play… I wonder what she thought of my leap over their best defensive player.

  ‘Oh, what did you think of the game’? I ask, continuing to subject us both to the pain of small talk in spite of our checkered history.

  Wait, am I fishing for a compliment… from Grace? Why am I wanting to hear what Grace of all people thought of my game?Fuck, why do I have to be so self aware, i need to stop reading these goddamn sports psychology books.

  Again, she waits a few seconds before answering. We’re standing back up now, with all her groceries safely back in her bag. She fidgets with the handles of the bag and looks into my eyes for what felt like a minute but really only lasted for a second before looking back down at my mouth and giving me a short answer.

  ‘Well to be honest I was more there to hang out with my friend so I didn’t pay too much attention. I’m not really into football’. Grace's eyes are moving just as much as the rest of her body, as she moves the bags from one hand to another.

  Damn, not the answer I was looking for.

  ‘Kind of beats the purpose of going to a football game if you’re not going to watch the game’, I say to her, with my arms now folded across my chest. I am leaning back a little now, giving her some space. I've been told I can get intimidating when I get too close. I don't believe it, but this conversation doesn't need any help with the amount of tension we're both clearly feeling.

  A glint flashes across Grace’s eyes, and her lips start to curl up at the edges. She’s finding this amusing! I watch as her freckles move up towards her eyes with the movement of her cheeks. I feel my face going hot. My face never goes hot. What the hell is happening?

  Grace looks up at me, this time she manages to look right into my eyes, and holds my gaze while she talks. Her eyes sparkle under the streetlight.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realize my attention to your game mattered, I’m sure you had plenty of other people who gave you their undivided attention’. Clearly pleased with her answer, the corner of her lips start to turn upwards into a grin that she tries to fight.

  ‘Yep, plenty of people there to watch me play’ I reply back, at a loss to say anything meaningful. Wow, I sound like a douche.

  Grace half rolls her eyes and loses her smirk. ‘Ok, well congratulations on the game, but I should really keep going. Have a fun night with your friends’. She turns to start walking away, and before my brain can catch up, my mouth is cashing checks I don't have money to pay.

  ‘I’m not hanging out with my friends’ I say, too quickly. But she’s already walking a few steps away. She stops and looks over her shoulder and looks straight into my eyes. Damn those eyes. I don’t move, instead I stand there and return the gaze, feeling some sort of brief connection between us that I know is going to end too soon.

  ‘Well enjoy the rest of your night, whatever you’re doing’ she says with an easy smile. I lose my trail of thought when I see her ass moving from side to side as she begins walking again.

  I’m not letting her go again this easy. It’s
hard finding a girl when she’s not on any social media whatsoever. I only searched for her once… to apologize for my behavior at that party. At the very least, I want her to see that I’m not the asshole she probably thinks I am. I need to set this straight.

  ‘How are you getting home’? I say, a little louder now, to make sure he hears me.

  Grace stops walking now and stands there with her back to me for a few seconds. What is with her waiting so long to give me answers? She slowly turns around with an expressionless face. ‘Bus’.

  ‘Busses aren’t safe at this time of night, come on. I’ll give you a lift back to campus. I haven’t been drinking’. I say, more telling her than asking.

  ‘I think the bus might be a safer bet’, Grace replies, her voice mocking.

  Huh. So Grace has a little sass. Who woulda thought? ‘Are you kidding me’, I reply on the defensive, ‘I’m a great driver, my instructor loved me’, I already feel stupid for my answer. ‘Did your instructor love your driving or your football abilities’, Grace shoots back.

  ‘Easy, Grace. Let’s remember we are both human beings with feelings here’ I say,

  “Wow, based on previous encounters with you, I didn’t think other people’s feelings were too high on your list of priorities, Dan.”

  Damn, she got me there. But instead of leaving me out to dry, she accepts my peace offering. “Ok, fine” she continues, as she starts walking back over to me.

  Chapter 6

  Grace

  Why the hell did I agree to get a lift off Dan Swanson of all people? He didn’t even ask, he literally just told me he was driving me home. What if I said no, would he throw me over his shoulder and throw me into his truck?

  I look down in my bag, studying the celery stalk, while reminding myself that I’m too much of a coward to say no to a simple thing like a car ride. I would literally rather die than be sitting in a car with Dan Swanson. He’s clearly working some sort of angle here, and I’ve walked straight into a trap. I’m sure of it. He’s just the type of guy that would be doing this for a funny story to tell his horrible team mates.

  He takes the bag from my hand and carries it towards the carpark, unlocks the door of an old truck, and places it gently on the back seat. I follow him over and sit down on the passenger seat. His arm brushes my thigh as he puts the car into gear, while his hard face, intimidating and unmoving, focuses on the road ahead. He doesn’t seem to notice that he touched my leg, while me, on the other hand, felt like I was almost electrocuted when our bodies made contact.

  Surprisingly, he drives calm and carefully. Slowly. I like that. I would have thought he'd drive at a break neck speed, taking corners like a maniac. Instead, he brakes early and takes the corners easy. I can’t help but take a side glance at his arm while he’s driving. They look even bigger up close. His forearms are lined with striations in his muscles and veins running from his elbow to his wrist. Man, guys like Dan must be so vain always looking at themselves in the mirror and flexing whenever they get the chance.

  ‘So’ Dan finally says, as we pull out and onto the main road.

  ‘So?’ I say, turning my answer into a question, while silently cursing my social awkwardness.

  I did so well on earlier, even after we bumped into each other. I was so smooth and didn’t talk too much and totally had him lost for words. But he can’t let me win this one can he? He has to make me drive home with him.

  ‘So… How are your classes going?’ still keeping his eyes on the road, his voice is steady and deep. The deepness of his voice is more apparent in the quiet car and especially so when he tries to talk softly it seems to vibrate throughout the car. I watch his jawline moving as he speaks, a thick shadow of whiskers complementing his dark skin.

  I consider what I’m going to say, not wanting to give too much of an answer, and let him off the hook with a pleasant conversation.

  ‘Classes are going well, since I came here to actually learn and I like what I’m studying’, I knead my hands, needing to do something with my nervous energy.

  Dan’s mouth turns upwards into an easy smile, flashing a glimpse of his top teeth, but he doesn't bite. He steals a sideways glance at me, while changing gears, before trying to push the subject.

  ‘I didn’t actually catch you what you study’? he says with earnestness in his voice.

  He looks again at me and I can’t help but study his face. He doesn’t just smile with his mouth, but with his eyes. It’s obvious he must use this on most people. Must be easy, when you can turn on your charm like a tap, especially when you look like that. I’m not going to buy into his nice smile and good manners. I’m not stupid.

  ‘Creative writing. I want to write professionally. I’ve always kind of done it too’. answer back, while looking down into my hands’,

  ‘Let me guess, it runs in the family?’ Dan responds mildly.

  ‘What do you mean by that’? I respond, my senses becoming heightened, ‘Well your dad used to teach English, what else does he do in his spare time’?

  So the game has become clear all of a sudden. Dan wants to talk about Dad. Typical. What an asshole, I should have guessed. I think about what I can say that gives the least information possible.

  ‘I guess you could say that’. I respond, looking down into my hands, my face becoming hot and my throat tightening out of nervousness.

  I see the University sign as we approach the campus dorms. Dan still hasn’t said anything back. My phone starts calling and I see ‘Dad’ light up my screen.

  ‘I’ve got to go’, I say, using the phone call as my excuse to get out of the car and avoid any interrogating from this guy with a clear ulterior motive. ‘you can just stop here, I’m actually really close. Thanks for the lift’

  Dan looks at me as he slows the car down and pulls over to the side of the road. ‘Hey, Grace—‘ I cut him off, ‘Sorry I’ve really got to take this call, thanks for the lift, see you around’ I try to make myself smile to make it seem like I’m not feeling totally stupid. Again. Although this time it’s my own fault for not knowing that he couldn’t possibly have good intentions with giving me a lift home. That’s why he didn’t ask if I wanted a lift, but instead pretty much told me he was giving me one.

  Dan looks back at me with his lips pressed together tight, showing disappointment. Jeez, sorry you didn’t get what you were after. I pretend not to notice and close the door as I struggle with holding my groceries and answering my phone at the same time. I don’t wave or look back as I walk away. After about 30 seconds, I finally hear his car pull away.

  Chapter 7

  One year later

  Grace

  Ever since moving out of my dorm and into private housing, I had to start working a part-time job to pay rent. It just so happens that Chad, the owner of my flat, is also the owner of local bar. Naturally, Chad gave me a job at his bar to pay the rent at his flat. Chad had a short career with the NFL and played for our college in his younger days, that’s how he’s managed to set himself up so well. He’s struggled to find tenants in the middle of the semester as everyone else is already settled, and he kicked the last tenants out for not paying rent. Unfortunately for me, he’s still looking for a second person to fill the other bedroom.

  The thought having to share a flat with someone I don’t know gives me a sick feeling in my stomach. I mean, it could be any weirdo. I enjoy working at PJ's, at least when we aren’t dealing with drunk college guys, which is actually most nights.

  I’m allowed to take in one of my books that I’m working on, and write at the bar when it’s quiet. Sometimes I like to think of myself as a paid author, who relies on alcohol to write. Kind of like a female Hunter S. Thompson, with much (much much much) worse prose.

  The bar is Irish themed, and is popular for people who prefer sitting in booths chatting, rather than dancing, although there is a dancefloor that starts up sometimes later on in the night.

  I’m sitting cross-legged on the stool with a cup of tea, rather t
han wine for a change. Tonight, it’s particularly quiet, being a Monday night and all. I’m completely immersed in my story as I write the big fight scene in my new romance. My heroine, nurse Annie has her wires crossed and thought her lover, Dr. Jacobs was secretly married. Oh, the drama!

  I jump as I receive a pat on the shoulder.

  “Hey…. Grace… are you working here, or?” The person addressing me pauses for a good second or more between words before he asks the question. The surprise causes me to snap my notebook shut, in shock.

  Holy shit. Oh my god. What the hell is he doing here

  I feel my face going red and my eyes widening as I stare up at the large, imposing figure, standing over me.

  “I’m looking for the owner, I’m guessing you work here as I can’t see anyone else in the joint,” he continues.

  “Grace?” Dan voices slowly, sounding unsure.

  I finally find my voice, “he isn’t here, is he supposed to be?”

  Dan looks at me, looking aloof as he scratches at the stubble on his face “well yeah, he told me he’d be in here tonight. I was supposed to be meeting him here, I didn’t realize you worked here.”

  I’m still in shock, looking up at Dan as I try to regain my composure. “Well, he pretty much does what he wants and doesn’t really tell me much. He is the owner after all.”

  Dan looks around the empty room, as if searching for someone . “Yeah sure. Ok. Cool. Well, I’m going to go take a seat and wait for a bit.”

  Relief fills me as he turns to walk away “Okay, yeah, sure” I say, losing my voice as I realize I’m talking to his back.