Chapter Two
For the next few days, I buried myself in schoolwork. I barely left my room except to go to classes or the library, and I always made sure to get in early enough to book a private study room. Midterms passed, but I knew if I gave myself too much free time, I would come to regret it. Jess rolled her eyes at my diligence, reminding me of her “all work and no play makes Evie a dull girl” crack — but I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell her exactly what happened, only that I decided to take a little break from Zack and even dating in general.
It was harder than I imagined; I knew it was easy for me to become infatuated with him — but I hadn’t counted on how quickly it could happen. I couldn’t exactly tell Zack what happened either; I didn’t want to start a fight amongst his teammates, and I honestly didn’t know how to explain it to him. I felt guilty, but I couldn’t think of any other way to deal with the situation. The first time Zack texted me — right before dinner hours at the dining hall — I simply responded to his invitation to sit with him that I planned on getting something to go and studying in my room.
After that, I couldn’t bring myself to answer any of his messages or calls. While I sat at my desk in my room going over the class readings the day after my altercation with Zack’s teammate, my phone buzzed.
Practice was canceled today, the message read, with a little smiley face. We could hang out…maybe you could show me more of those skills you picked up.
I pressed my lips together and didn’t even pick my phone up to contemplate replying. It buzzed again, breaking through my focus.
Or if you don’t want to get down we could just hang out and watch a movie.
I took a deep breath. No — I wouldn’t respond to him. I wouldn’t even reply to tell him I was too busy with homework. If I did, he might offer to come up and study with me; of course, knowing Zack, he would be able to very quickly convince me to do anything but study.
The next day, he tried again. I was in the library, in the private study room that I’d reserved for the afternoon trying to make heads or tails of the new stats lesson. My phone buzzed, on silent per library rules.
Hey, are you mad at me? Can I at least get a chance to figure out what I did wrong?
My heart wrenched in my chest. It took all I had not to open the message that was flashing on my screen and reply to it — tell him he hadn’t done anything wrong, that I wasn’t mad at him, I just needed some space and thought he did, too. But instead I turned it off altogether and tried to bury myself in my textbook.
When I got back to the dorm, there was a note taped to my door.
Jess let me in — I’d hoped you were here. Call me, please?
It was signed in Zack’s messy scrawl. I ripped it off my door and went in, closing myself into my lonely room and decided I’d rather just curl up and go to sleep rather than risk running into him at the dining hall. I turned off the lights and tried not to think about the times that Zack and I had been together, or the sound of his voice, or the way he seemed so interested in being with me. He would give up soon enough and maybe later — if I hadn’t ruined things for good — I could explain to him I just needed space, and wanted him to have the ability to focus on the game. Even if he couldn’t forgive me for that, I needed to be able to tell him. Maybe, I thought with a mixture of dread and hope, he would just forget about me completely, and move on with his life. The frat he belonged to must be having parties; there would be plenty of girls all around him vying for his attention, more than happy to take his mind off of me.
The next morning, I woke up with my stomach in knots, twisting in on itself from hunger. I realized I left my phone turned off all night and dug it out of my bag, turning it on. At least I hadn’t managed to oversleep. As my phone loaded up, I saw the flash of two more messages and a voicemail — all of them from Zack.
Look, just tell me you’re okay. I can’t find you and your roommate won’t tell me where you are. The second one read: If I did something wrong you should at least give me a chance to apologize.
Steeling myself, I opened up the voicemail he’d left me. It was three minutes long. “Evie, come on, I know you’re avoiding me. I just want to know why. My phone is showing all the texts are delivered — and I saw you read most of them. What’s going on between us? I already told you: no more public spectacles. I promise. Just give me a chance to figure out what I did wrong and how I can make it right.”
My eyes stung as I deleted the message, unable to listen to it all, and took a deep breath. I didn’t think he’d try to contact me again after that. At least I hoped not. I just hoped once everything was said and done, I’d have some kind of a chance to explain to him why. But then, I thought, I didn’t even fully understand why I was doing it myself.
It would have been bad enough to handle Zack’s texts if I was able to keep my reaction purely emotional; it bothered me to hurt him — and I definitely was — but the sex I knew I was missing out on bothered me almost as much. I’d gotten so used to not getting any; even before I started college, I cut myself off from sex, having too much to deal with after my mom died. Even more to the point I didn’t even particularly want to date anyone after — not just because I was wrecked by having my biggest support and cheerleader gone from my life, but because I discovered guys were just a bunch of trouble.
But from the first time Zack and I made out, I felt the juices flowing in my veins again. When we had sex on the couch at his frat, I’d been easy prey — it wouldn’t have been that difficult even for Zack to convince me to head to his bedroom at the frat house during the party. Now that it happened again I was consumed with the memory of how good he’d become, of how great it felt to have him touching me, tasting me. I shivered in class as my brain — against my will — reminded me of how great Zack’s cock had felt deep inside me, brushing against my inner walls, filling me up. I couldn’t focus on my work the way I used to be able to easily; I was distracted, having to take breaks to get myself off to the thought of Zack in my bed again, going down on me or working me with his fingers, thrusting into me, rocking his hips against mine until I came. I didn’t tell Jess about it, but I was almost afraid of how intensely I wanted sex — how much I wanted to just give in and call Zack, tell him to come over and screw my brains out.
I told myself it would pass — it always passed before — but I was on fire constantly, hoping and dreading I would run into Zack. If I just saw him, I knew I’d end up throwing myself at him, begging him to forgive me and find us somewhere private where we could be together. I could only grit my teeth and hope it would pass in time, that I would be able to get back together with Zack once the football season ended and I could be with him without distracting him. It occurred to me more than once that it was — for me at least — more distracting to be separated from him than it was to be with him. But I had to stick with what I decided. Even if it was torturing me slowly every day.
****
I had to miss the staff meeting for the newspaper; I told Professor Grant in advance and also emailed Lisa that I couldn’t be there because of a class. They both told me it was a perfectly valid excuse, and Lisa said I could drop by her office in the student union after class to get my assignment from her. I hurried over to the student union as soon as the professor let us out of class, and made my way to Lisa’s office, still drinking the last of the coffee I’d brought for my late class and ready to take notes on the assignment she had for me.
“Hey, come on in,” Lisa said, gesturing to the chair on the other side of her desk. “I wanted to tell you we all really loved your piece on the last game. The interview was great — you really got Zack to open up!” My cheeks burned with a blush but I didn’t say anything, struggling to keep my composure. I nodded, not quite trusting my voice. “In fact, we didn’t have to do much editing to it at all! Good work.”
“Thanks — that means a lot.” I took a deep breath. “So what have you got me on for next week, Chief?”
Lisa grinned. “Since you did so well on the game last time, I figured you were a natural to cover the final game of the season. This time, though, we want you to get an interview with Coach Bullden, about our prospects for the nationals, that sort of thing.”
I nodded quickly. The very last thing I wanted in the world was to have to go to another football game and watch Zack. But I couldn’t exactly tell Lisa that the reason I’d been able to get Zack to open up to me was because he and I had a history together — a history I was risking by staying away from him. Besides, since I couldn’t make the meeting, there probably weren’t any other assignments open anymore, and I wanted to make sure I was in the campus paper as many times as I could be.
Lisa gave me the details and asked me to do some research on my own about the coach — his career, his strategies, the kind of material that would make a good profile on the man to accompany the coverage of the final game of the season and the one that would determine our position in the national level. I took notes, trying to calm myself. I wouldn’t have to even talk to Zack, I told myself over and over again. I would just ignore him — as much as you can ignore the quarterback when it came to a major football game. I would cover the game, talk to the coach, and have done with it. If I had any luck at all, Zack would just head straight for the showers after the game and I could get my interview without any fuss or even any attempt from him to talk to me — he might not even know I was there until the article came out.