The End Zone

And I’m going to conquer her. Consequences be damned.



“I just had the best date of life yesterday. Not an exaggeration. A fact,” Chelsea swoons, throwing her arms across the library desk and burying her head between them. She blows a lock of raven hair from her face. Her cheeks are pink, her eyes are bloodshot, and her huge smile is telling me that she is crushing hard, all while riding the mother of all natural highs. I sit across from her, smiling as I rearrange my sensible blouse. I’ve always pegged myself as a maternal chick. It’s not the most feminist thing in the world to admit, but I already know my most rewarding role in life will be being a mom. But Chelsea? She’s something else. She aspires to become a nanny after we graduate. Save up for a few years before becoming a mother herself. She’s got a wedding and (at least) four kids on her (utterly crazy) brain twenty-four-freaking-seven.

“Where did Mark take you?” I probe, pretending to be typing on my MacBook. Really, I’m just stalling and trying to look like everything is okay. Like I’m not a mess of epic proportions. Sage and I haven’t spoken a word to each other today. No texting. No stumbling together, laughing in the hallway. Even the drive to campus was silent. He tapped the wheel, I texted my mama, and liked every single thing my friends posted on Facebook. It was awkward to say the least.

“We had a picnic under the stars. Then we went to my place. Nikki is gone for the week, so we had the place to ourselves. We watched Suicide Squad. Then we…” She blushes, looking away. “Then we did other stuff. And, so, yeah, he’s a great guy.”

“I’m so happy for you.” And I am. A friendship ain’t worth the time you spend together unless you can wholeheartedly feel the joy and love your peer experiences when something amazing happens to them.

“Thank you, sweets. So, what about you? Still mad about that jackass, Brandon? You should really put yourself out there more, lady. Guys will be lining up as soon as you give them the signal you’re interested.” She wiggles her brows and closes her thick textbook. I offer her a weak smile, looking around us to make sure the library is deserted. It is. I haven’t told her about the whole fake relationship with Sage yet. I kind of figured it would run its course before we even had the chance to explore it, as with many of Sage’s crazy ideas. I was even partly right. True, I did most of the ruining of said fake relationship, but it doesn’t matter. Not really. I don’t, however, want to keep anything from Chelsea.

“I kind of hooked up with Sage this past week. Nothing too serious. We just messed around.” I drum my collarbone with my fingers.

“I know,” she says, straight-faced. I raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Dude, I know, Penny knows, every single person on campus knows,” she reports nonchalantly, downing the rest of her latte and throwing the cup into the trash at the side of our desk, shrugging. “Mark and I talked about it. Sage told him. Apparently, he told the whole football team that if they as much as breathe in your direction, he’d cut their noses off. Kind of possessive, if you ask me. Never thought he was the caveman type.”

I’m staring at Chelsea with my mouth agape, realizing that it’s not a good look, and yet too shocked to respond coherently.

I look around me. There is only one more desk occupied in the whole library other than Chelsea’s and mine. It’s a bunch of sorority girls sitting across the room with their feathery pink pens and white, lush cardigans and blonde, high ponytails. They’re staring at me, and I know why. If eyes could stab, I’d be bleeding to death on the floor. To them, Sage is not a real person, with a story, a personal tragedy, and complex personality traits. He’s a legend. A status symbol. Like a Ferrari or a Versace item. Fierce protectiveness grips my throat. I don’t know how I’d be able to live if I ever found out that he got married to this type of girl. The ones who see him for so much less than who he is.

“Earth to Jolie.” Chelsea waves her little hands in front of me, smiling. I snap out of my stupor, shaking my head lightly.

“Sorry, you were saying?” I close my MacBook and grab my shoulder bag from under my chair. I admit defeat. There’s just no way I’ll be able to concentrate on anything other than him today.

“So things must be serious between you and Sage, if he is claiming you as his in front of the entire world.” We both stand up, gather our belongings, and make our way to the door. I’m about to answer Chelsea, when…

“Slut,” one of the sorority girls coughs into her curled fist, just as I pass her by.

“Social climber,” the other one breathes viciously. I keep walking, ignoring them, but just as I’m about to round the corner into the hallway, I notice that Chelsea is no longer by my side. I turn my head around and see her standing in front of their desk. My eyes nearly bug out of their sockets, cartoon-style. Oh, no. Chelsea has some serious mama-bear-on-steroids-when-aunt-flow-is-in-town bones in her. She takes care of her own and never passes down a chance to stand up for a friend. But this bitch doesn’t deserve her attention. Not one bit.

“Hey, girls.” Chelsea juts one hip out, her hand on her hip and her smile Type 2 diabetes sweet as she snaps a picture of them with her phone. “Just wanted to stop by and let you know that by talking shit about the captain of the football team’s girlfriend, you pretty much killed every opportunity you’ve ever had to date a jock in this place. Just putting it out there. So, good luck and so forth.” My friend shrugs, strutting her way back to me.