The whispers start quietly at first.
Like the finest snowflakes preceding a heavy storm, they gain in intensity and number. Once the wind picks up, you find yourself inundated.
Now that the season is over, and there’s nothing left to talk about except predictions for next year, fans have turned to a new topic of conversation.
Me.
And how my attack might still be affecting Rob, on and off the field.
I never thought I’d miss Shawn’s irritating ass, but ever since his class graduated, State’s hockey team has been floundering. I’d give anything to see his smug face beside me in the dining hall, ready to rile me up, if it meant the students on campus would have something else to focus on.
The basketball team isn’t even any help.
As I pick my way carefully over the icy sidewalks, my cheeks burning from the cold, I’ve never hated winter so much as I do in this moment.
The trees are barren of their leaves, the bushes provide no cover in their dormant state, and there’s nowhere left to hide from the stares that follow me around campus.
With my heavy winter parka and knit hat, there’s not any shiny armor to cover myself with, ironically enough.
Hey, even I have standards of function over form. I’m not about to parade around in twenty-degree weather and biting wind chills in heels and a skin-tight get up without a coat.
“I heard she wasn’t even really raped,” I hear in passing. “It was just a publicity stunt, so he would get the Heisman.”
Oh, how quickly the tides turn. Fair-weather fans are one thing, but the gossip surrounding State’s superstar has morphed from pride into disbelief.
What’s even more hysterical is these people clearly know nothing about the voting process. Sports journalists don’t give a shit about Rob’s history. They only care about his numbers, and those don’t lie.
Whatever boost Rob needed to close in the polls with sports fans might have been helped by making him seem sympathetic, but frankly, the average joe football fan cares as much about sexual assault as the typical jock.
If anything, I’m surprised that story didn’t hurt Rob’s chances.
It’s not every day a guy, who’s surrounded by players willing to take whatever they can get, makes a stand against rape culture. Especially not publicly, the way Rob did.
I’m so damn proud of him. And I’m not about to let the whispers, stares, and new rumors get the best of me. If I ignore it, and don’t let it bother me, then it won’t bother Rob, either.
Besides, it’s all conjecture. Thanks to sealed records and a closed trial, no one will ever know the truth.
It’s more important to focus on the women we can help; not the problems of our past.
If we can’t act like we’re fine, like we’re stronger for what we went through, then how can we possibly give anyone else hope?
“Evie!” The breathless voice of one of the freshman Wives carries across the quad. “Wait up!”
I turn to find Amanda sprinting across the crunchy grass as quickly as she dares. “Hey, Mrs. Little. What’s your hurry?”
She stops to catch her breath, then glances around us like what she’s about to say isn’t meant for just anyone’s ears.
Oh, hell. Amanda’s really come into her own since the beginning of the season, but it’s no secret her boyfriend’s a total player. He cheats on her; she looks the other way, but confides in the Wives about how much it hurts. I think she should move on with her life, but Harper convinced her to stick it out and see how their relationship fares in the off-season. By her expression, I’m guessing nothing’s changed.
“I need some advice, and everyone else seems to be busy.” She ducks her head, her cheeks pinking with shame. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“For you? Of course. Do you want to go grab a cup of coffee and get out of the wind?”
“Uh…” she glances around again. “Not really. I need to get to my next class, but that’s part of what I need advice about.”
“Okay.”
“The girl Drew slept with over the weekend is in my Archaeology class. I want to confront her, but Harper said I should just let it slide if I want to keep him.”
This is the first I’m hearing about this. Clearly, Harper didn’t feel the need to involve me.
“Are you sure he was with this girl?” No good can come from a confrontation, though I disagree with Harper’s reasoning for avoiding one.
“Positive. I saw them sneak away together at the Sig O party.”
Yeah, no surprise there. My suggestion of limiting female attendance was met with overwhelming jeers. Surprisingly, from both sides of the aisle.
“Don’t you think you should confront Drew first? She might not have even known who he is, or that he has a girlfriend. That’s on him to tell people. Not her to assume.”
Amanda scrunches her brow and blows out a breath that results in a puff of steam. “Whose side are you on, Mrs. Falls?”
“Yours.” Always. It’s my job to protect these girls.
“Then why are you making it seem like I’m the bad guy in this situation?”
How did she get that out of what I said? “I’m not. Not at all. I just don’t want you to be in the situation of potentially making things harder for yourself. Do you really want to start a confrontation before class? With the other students there to witness it? What if she tells you he approached her and not the other way around? Then what?”
“You know, for someone who faked a rape just to get a star quarterback to be her boyfriend, I really thought you’d be on my side and help me do whatever it takes to keep other bitches away from my man,” she sneers.
She might as well stab me. “What did you just say to me?”
“Please,” Amanda scoffs. “It’s so obvious Rob’s out of your league. The only reason you’re president of the Wives Club is because everyone feels sorry for you. Harper’s much better for this role than you are.”
She swirls away in a cloud of snow that blinds me to everything else. A storm’s coming. The only question is when…and how much destruction will be left behind.
“Two screwdrivers!” A male voice calls over the thumping music.
A feminine giggle, followed by, “And a chaser of sex on the beach!”
Yeah. ‘Cause a fully-loaded cocktail is a chaser.
“I don’t have the cranberry juice to make that, sorry.” Bless Shawn for teaching me everything he knew before graduating. And fuck him, because now I’m the unofficial bartender for all the Sig O parties.
The girl wearing an actual corset pouts. “What kind of shots can you make, then?”
A devious smile spreads across my lips. “How do you feel about anise?”
She blinks her fake eyelashes at me. “What’s that?”
Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes. “It tastes like licorice.”
“Oh! I love candy!”
The Sig O brother with her laughs and shoots me a knowing look. “Flaming or straight tonight, Mrs. Falls?”
“The Miners won their second straight National Championship, Blake, and this is an official victory celebration. What do you think?” Besides, this is my signature shot, and he damn well knows it.
He turns his megawatt smile on the girl he’s clearly marked for the night. “Hope you like quick fucks, Candy.”
It’s my turn to blink. “Your name is Candy?”
“Yes,” she giggles. “I’m Candy, and I like candy! Isn’t that funny?”
So funny I might vomit. Instead, I plaster on a smile to match Blake’s, and pour the Ouzo.
Candy’s eyes widen like saucers when I produce a lighter. Her milky face pales further when I light the surface of the shots on fire.
“Is this a trick?” She glances between me and Blake, her expression increasingly cautious.
“Nope. No trick. Watch me do it first.”
I hold a plastic cup over the flaming shot, capturing the fumes, then suck them out with a straw before blowing out the fire and tossing the Ouzo back without touching the hot glass to my lips.
Candy looks alarmed.
“If Mrs. Falls can do it like a pro, then so can you,” Blake assures. “Whatever you do, don’t touch the rim of the glass. It’ll burn your pretty lips, and we wouldn’t want that.”
She purses said lips at him before turning her baby blues on me. “So, you’re with the quarterback? Is that why everyone calls you Mrs. Falls? I didn’t realize he was married.”
I didn’t realize she was paying enough attention to anything other than Blake to notice everyone calls me that.
Blake’s laughter draws the attention of several other thirsty-looking ladies in the vicinity. “They’re not married! Jesus! Who ever heard of a married college quarterback?”
His words sting, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s not my place to talk back. I look pretty and serve the drinks here.
To my surprise, it’s Candy who pipes up. “There are quite a few married players in the division. You should look it up. It’s not as uncommon as you might believe.”
Color me impressed.
“I can make you something else if you’re uncomfortable doing the quick fuck, Candy. It’s intimidating if you’ve never seen or done it before.”
Her expression belies a hint of solidarity coupled with mischievousness. “What, and let these jocks show me up? Not a chance. Show me again.”
And this is how I usually end up shit-faced by the end of the night. It’s not the liquor itself that packs a punch, but the fumes. Still, I can’t leave a woman down.
I go through the motions again, slower so Candy can keep up.
When it’s her turn, Blake watches with lust-filled eyes as Candy tosses the shot back like a champ.
She coughs and sputters. “Why is it called a quick fuck?”
“Because it fucks you up…quick.” Blake smirks.
Candy glances at me for confirmation.
“It does. Don’t do too many.”
“Don’t worry.” She frowns. “This doesn’t taste like me at all.”
Blake chokes on his own saliva.
I’m just about to ask for her phone number for myself when Harper pops her head in the kitchen.
“Yo, Falls! Your man’s up!”
Cries of “Speech! Speech!” carry in from the packed living room.
There’s barely enough room for me to squeeze against the far wall, but all the heads that tower over me don’t block Rob from my view.
Standing on top of the couch, he looks larger than life and gorgeous enough to steal my breath. “Now we can start!”
“Quit stalling and give us a good one, already!” comes a shout from the other side of the room.
Judging by Rob’s expression, he needs a few more minutes to gather his thoughts. Distraction just so happens to be my specialty.
“Miners! Miners! Miners!”
It doesn’t take long for my chant to spark. The crowd fans the flames until the thunderous roar rattles the windows.
Rob shakes his head, a genuine grin and grateful eyes landing on me. He motions for the fans to calm so he can speak. “We had another great run, yeah?”
Applause and whistles go up like fireworks in the cramped space.
“And we’re gonna do it again next year!”
The crowd screams his name until he regains control once more.
“Football isn’t a one-man sport. Your Miners are a team. We train together, fight together, and win together. We couldn’t have given State back-to-back National Championships without every guy on the roster pulling his weight. Give it up for these guys who breathe, eat, and bleed football for months on end!”
The applause borders on thunderous. Amid the cacophony, shouts for individual players go up from their respective Wives, including Amanda.
“We can’t do it without you, either!” Rob yells over the noise. “You feed us. You give us the strength to push to the next level. The State Miners have the best fans in all of college football and tonight, this party is our way of thanking you for supporting us. Now get outta here and go have a good time!”
More cries for the Miners go up from the party-goers, but Rob hops down from his perch. The speech is over. Someone cranks the music up, and the crowd dissipates. Dancing resumes in the middle of the room as the outliers fan out through the house.
“How was that?” Rob asks on a deep breath when he stands in front of me.
I place a hand on his cheek, a physical form of the approval he’s seeking. “Wonderful. Short, sweet, to the point, and crediting everyone who helped make this a winning season. It was perfect.”
“I know they wanted more.” He shrugs. “I just didn’t have it to give them.”
“You did great, Rob. Most guys would’ve taken all the glory for themselves and been jackasses about it. No one wants to hear someone talk about themselves for hours at a time.”
“That’s not true.” He plants a damp kiss on my neck. “I could listen to you talk about yourself for days. Weeks, even. You about ready to get out of here? That was my last job for the night, but I was putting it off until everyone was too drunk to really notice the words coming out of my mouth.”
Typical Rob. He pulls off social jock so well, no one else probably realizes how shy he is, drunk or not.
“I can’t leave yet. I need to make sure all the Wives are accounted for, check in with Alex about tonight’s ADO boycott, and clean up the bar. The brothers will be pissed if all their top-shelf liquor disappears.”
“You should definitely check on the other Wives, but leave the rest for Alex. He’s the asshole who wanted to run for Sig O president as a junior.”
“He’s doing a good job with the frat, and you know it.”
Rob graces me with a grudging smile. “He is. And so are you with the Wives, but it’s okay to delegate some responsibility, you know.”
“And you know the control freak in me just shuddered at that suggestion.”
“So long as you cede me some of that control when we get home.” He places a quick kiss on my lips. “I need a little breathing room after that, so I’ll be downstairs. Come find me when you’re ready. Text me if you need me for anything.”
He waits until I produce my phone from the back pocket of my skinny jeans. A back up plan he insisted on after a party got a little too out of control. Since the night the cops were called after a fight broke out between the hockey and football teams, Rob doesn’t care whether my clothes don’t allow for a phone on my person. Safety first.
I show him the fully-charged home screen. “It’s surprisingly mellow tonight. Give me a half hour or so, then we can go.”
“You want me to track Alex down for you to speed up the process?”
“Do you want to go upstairs and interrupt his latest foursome?”
Rob grimaces. “Not really.”
“He should be back soon.” I glance at the clock on my phone. “He’s been MIA for well over an hour.”
Rob sighs, knowing he’s lost this round. “A half hour. Then, I’m throwing you over my shoulder like a caveman and carrying you to my lair.”
“Alpha male really doesn’t suit you, Falls.”
“You bring out the best and worst in me, Falls.” With that cryptic retort, he parts his way through the sea of bodies, disappearing into the doorway that leads to the off-limits basement.
I glance around me at the various scenes. Mostly Wives are dancing in the center of the room, their better halves likely downstairs in the team-only lounge. Several couples are on the couches against the walls, exchanging flirty banter and the occasional kiss. From the kitchen, the usual shouts that accompany a keg stand compete with the music. For Sig O’s official National Championship party, it really is much tamer than last year. A big part of that is the lack of ADO sisters competing for scant leftovers from the team. There’s no clear reason why they didn’t show tonight.
It doesn’t help that it’s been two weeks since the win, and campus-wide celebrations have somewhat petered out since then.
As predicted, Alex descends the stairs, trailing three dazed looking ladies with their clothes still askew. He smirks when our gazes meet, then gestures with his chin for me to follow him.
“Evie!”
I glance behind me to see Harper making a come-hither motion from the dance floor.
“Come dance with us!”
“Party with your girls, Mrs. Falls!” one of the sophomore wives encourages. “We have so much to celebrate!”
“In a minute,” I call back. I might be on the clock, but I can’t let them down. I’ll meet with Alex real quick, then have plenty of time to spare. Especially if I can get him to lock down the bar for me.
A female voice I recognize volleys back from the crowd. “Show us your tits, Mrs. Falls!”
Shock freezes me. The bodies before me swim as my vision blurs until one clear face bleeds out from the throng. The ADO president.
She smiles, a cruel expression, which shines with all the force of a mushroom cloud.
Slowly, the rest of the room comes into focus. Their words assault my ears.
“I heard she’s scarred!” Unknown woman.
“I heard it’s just a stupid rumor.” Harper.
“Strip for us, baby! Show us what you got!” A hockey player.
“It was a hoax! She lied!” Random chick.
“Show us the truth!” Amanda.
“Prove them wrong!” One of Rob’s teammates.
“What do you need?” Alex.
Only enough breath returns to my lungs for me to whisper, “Get me out of here.”