The Essence of Your Love

Chapter 2 - Ten Years Later

—New Message ✉ 'Steve'—

Open Cancel

@Steve: [How was the party last night?]

[It sucked, if you ask me. Where the hell were you?]✓✓

@Steve: [I'm sorry, Dad was having trouble in the workshop and you know the s**t I was going to get out of it if I didn't stay. (ಥ﹏ಥ)]

[Man, tell your Dad to chill]✓✓

@Steve: [Say the same to your reflection in the mirror :v]

[f**k you.]✓✓

@Steve: [Why don't you just come out so we can go? I've been waiting out here for fifteen minutes. I mean, what the hell are you up to?]

[You can't rush perfection.]✓✓

@Steve: [But I can rush my foot up your ass if you don't come out right now. (ノ°**)ノ]

[I'd like to see you try.]✓✓

I lock the screen and save my phone in my jacket pocket. I do a last sweep around to make sure I don’t forget anything, grab my backpack and trot downstairs.

“Good morning, Ellie,” the cleaning lady has been working here for two years. She's short, with gray hair, and sometimes talks too much, but she's quite nice and very thorough in the work.

“Good morning, Mr. Jasper!” She says cheerfully, cleaning the glass table in the middle of the living room. “Are you going to have breakfast?”

“No, Steve's waiting for me outside,” I pick my keys off the wall pendant and head for the door. “I'll grab something on the way.”

“Okay. Have a nice day, young man.”

“Thank you, Ellie,” I wave goodbye and exit the house.

The sun is high and its rays are strong. I slide my sunglasses on and walk straight down the many stairs to the entrance. Steve's Porsche is barely a couple of days old, so the red paint still glows brightly. He unlocks the passenger door and I get in, dropping my bag in the back, we high-five and he starts the car.

“If we're late, it's your fault,” that’s his greeting after a weekend of not seeing each other. The gates of the house open so we can get out; I gesture to the security guard when we pass him.

“If we're late, it'll be because of your weak driving technique,” I roll my eyes and dangle an arm out the open window.

“Dude, please tell me Jessica didn't hook up with anyone last night,” he begs.

“I don't know, I wasn't paying attention to her.”

“Seriously?!” Steve squeals annoyingly. “Come on, Jas. I specifically told you to keep an eye on her. Now how the f**k do I know if she's the good girl that seems to be?”

“You can't judge that at a party,” I roll my eyes again. “That's like the worst place to do it; nobody knows what they're doing with illegal amounts of alcohol in their system.”

“But at least it'll give me a clue,” he sighs. “Last time I trust you with something like this.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” I laugh when I hear him grunt. “The practice will be brutal.”

“We'll melt,” he agrees. “The sun is f*****g intense today.”

“Did you ask your mommy for the sunscreen?” I joke and Steve hits my arm.

“f**k you, asshole,” we laughed and spent the rest of the trip listening to Rammstein and Lamb of God songs on the car's player.

When we arrive at the u, we’re greeted by the huge crowd of students in the driveway who slow us down even more by blocking the parking lot. Steve has to maneuver subtly to not hurt anyone, but that doesn't stop him from sticking his head out of the window and ranting some insults.

“I swear to God I'll kick your ass if you don't get out of my way, Peterson!” The kid runs away scared, and we finally find an unoccupied space to park.

“What's with you and asses?” I grab my bag and jump out, closing the door behind me. “A new fetish o some s**t like that?”

“Oh, no. That's your league, pal,” he pats me on the back and I laugh as we make our way to the big main yard.

Behold, the great University of Michigan. Founded in 1817. It has about fifty-nine thousand students, one of the largest research budgets, and rejoices with the third-best college football team in the United States—the Michigan Wolverines—which is why I decided to study here. People greet us as we advance like we're superstars, but I ignore them all.

This growing popularity bothers me because I can't do or say anything because everyone finds out and spreads it faster than the blink of an eye. Once, someone even published a picture of me while I was changing in the locker room. Fortunately, I still had my underwear.

I'm not one of those who take advantage of social status, getting what they want by easily cajoling people. On the contrary, I attempt to keep people as far away from me as possible, with only a few exceptions, such as Steve Thompson. I met my best friend about three months after I was admitted. His dad owns a prestigious auto service business downtown, and his mom has a lovely coffee shop that we always visit after classes.

Steve was a pain in the ass at first, but it got easier to deal with him as time went on. Plus, he doesn't give a s**t that I'm bisexual; never judged or looked down on me while seeing me hitting on some guy, which is great. But Coach does ask me to be discreet about my dates.

“Look, there's your big friend Matthew.”

He points with his chin in the right direction and my fists clench when I spot my nemesis. The captain of the hockey team, Matthew Connor, is sitting on a table in the courtyard surrounded by all his mindless buddies, laughing like a constipated seal. He notices me, then grimaces before ignoring me as I walk by. Yeah, the hatred is mutual.

“Friend?” I snort. “I think the sun is killing the few brain cells you had left.”

“Well, they weren't of much use anyway,” he shrugs.

“Good thing you're admitting it,” we laugh, stepping inside the cafeteria.

Luckily, we arrived in time to devour like hungry wolves a quick breakfast before the start of the first period. So, we get in line and without having to say anything, everyone steps aside to let us order first, patting us on the back and congratulating us for winning the game last week.

Okay, popularity has its advantages. We each ordered three chicken and lettuce sandwiches and a couple of energy drinks. What can I say? Jocks eat like beasts. We make our way to one of the tables, putting the trays on top to sit on.

“How are things going with your folks?” Steve bites one of his sandwiches.

“The same: we never talk because they're never there.”

“That sucks, man,” he nods a couple of times. He swallows and bites another piece. “I mean, Dad and I don't get along all the time, but at least I have a relationship with him.”

“My parents only care about substituting their presence with money, and that I win every game,” we keep talking with mouths full in a hurry; there's no time for pleasantries.

“Well, at least you're free to go out whenever you want,” Steve grunts, taking a sip of his drink. “I have to go through flattery, kiss a couple of soles, and even do a satanic ritual to be released without a sermon.”

“Take advantage of your charms, you don't have to waste them on Jessica.”

“Hey, don't be an asshole!” He kicks my calf under the table and I complain. “I like her, I'd appreciate it if you'd give her a chance.”

“But why her?”

Jessica Buenaventura. The girl has been after Steve for a while now, but that doesn't stop her from accepting dates with other guys, making up lame excuses afterwards that only my dumb friend here believes.

The ladies fall on Steve like bees on honey due to his muscular body and striking green eyes, but he’s only interested in one and the least convenient. I don't believe the “good girl” side she's trying so hard to portray, although Steve does... completely.

“I just like her, okay?” He places the now-empty containers on the tray and pushes it aside. “I like her a lot. I'm going to invite her to the dance next month.”

“Fuck...” I whisper, but I reserve my reply. I don't want to fight. “Just promise to keep your eyes open, that's all I'm asking.”

“Promise,” he smiles.

“Okay, and don't forget to use a condom,” I finish my last sandwich and I drop any leftovers on the tray. “Here comes Nathaniel.”

Steve turns in the direction I point and raises his arms to get our friend's attention. Nathaniel Gray is another of my few friends and, compared to Steve, is far more selective about dates, always staying out of trouble.

His dad works at a law firm and he’s one of those self-centered men, just like my dad, who believes that money can solve anything. Which is illogical, considering that his job is focused on ensuring legality and honesty in any situation, but not everyone is devoted to their profession. His mother died three years ago in a car accident.

“Ladies,” Nate greets in a singing voice, sitting next to Steve. “If the next parties are going to be like last night's, I refuse to go again.”

“It's a relief that I didn't go then,” Steve says, smiling with comfort.

“At least you had some fun with Margaret,” I accuse, Nate just shrugs with a half-sided smile. “I wandered around the whole f*****g house like a ghost, and still slept in my bed alone.”

“What can I say? I'm a heartbreaker,” his smile widens and I show him the bird.

“Is that the reason for your overflowing happiness or is there something else?” Steve crosses his arms over his chest.

“Not really. I mean, Margaret was fine and all,” Nate hurries to clarify. “But the reason I’m so happy is because my little brother managed to do the transfer.”

“Wow, really?” Nate nods and his aura of contentment increases even more. “That's great, man,” he receives a few pats on the back from Steve.

“When does he begin?” I ask, and we stand up as our classes are about to begin.

“Tomorrow. It seems his dad needed help with the pharmacy, so he stayed to help him,” Nate grimaces. “I'm not too happy about him missing his first day.”

“He'll be here tomorrow,” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze, trying to cheer him up. “If he's as smart as you've always told us, he'll have no trouble picking up the pace.”

“My little brother is the smartest boy I've ever known,” Nate says, chin up, proud. “You'll see... or not, since I'm sure he'll be stuck in the library,” he adds with a nostalgic smile.

“Doesn't he like to party?” our stubborn friend asks curiously.

“I don't know, he never mentioned going to one.”

“Well, here will be his new best friends to introduce him to nightlife action,” Steve nudges Nate on the side and smiles mischievously.

“Forget it, I won't let you be a bad influence on him,” we enter the vast salon, and settle in our usual seats. “I doubt Jimmy is like that, anyway. I'm sure he'd rather have books than contaminating his liver with bad booze.”

“I wonder why, if he's as good a boy as you say, you ended up being the opposite,” I say and we laugh, though we keep quiet when the teacher arrives and the class starts.

“My father's curse that I have had to bear,” Nate snorts.

“The two sides of the coin,” Steve whispers. “So, he'll share classes with us?”

“I have to ask him; I don't know yet,” Nate gets quiet for a moment when we have the professor's gaze on us. “Maybe a few. You know he's younger than us by two years, but he's ahead of us, too,” Nate grimaces again. “I just hope he can adapt without any trouble, and if anyone dares to mess with him, I won't hesitate to beat the s**t out of them.”

“Good, count us as extra bodyguards,” Steve jokes and we laugh, stopping instantly when we get a warning stare from the professor. Thankfully, the hours fly by and the closing of the first part of the morning takes place.

“f**k,” Nate complains when we venture into the yard and the sun hits us with force. “Wanna bet Coach will take advantage of this to make us suffer?”

“Did you have to remind me?” Steve moans and covers his eyes with a hand.

“Don't be a crybaby,” I laugh and we walk towards the stadium. “You should be used to it by now.”

“Of course, but this sunlight will make everything worse. Besides...”

“Hey, Jas,” our dialogue is interrupted, making me sigh in frustration.

Leyla Simmons, or better known as the torment of my existence. I call her “Queen Bee", and that's not a compliment. The girl has been the cross on my back since I became the quarterback of my team, with countless attempts to slip into my pants, every time I have rejected her. Not because she’s not attractive. On the contrary, she’s beautiful. Long blond hair, striking green eyes, narrow waist, and large legs that she knows how to show. But the external beauty, unfortunately, isn’t the same as the one she has inside.

She's a complete witch (for lack of a better word). She has no problem stepping over anyone (literally and figuratively) to obtain what she wants, and now the first wish on her list is to take advantage of the popularity she would have if we got together. I feel sorry for her, but I intend to stay as far away from any sexually transmitted disease as possible and, unfortunately for me, no matter how many times I dismiss her, she always ends up insisting again.

“Leyla,” I reply with a sharp tilt of my head.

“I couldn't see you at the party last night,” she pouts and I sigh again. The reason for that is simple: every time I saw her, I hid.

“Yeah, well,” I shrug. “I didn't stay there for long.”

“Maybe you didn't have enough... motivation,” She adds with a tone that pretends to be sensual. The, she approaches, moving between the long fingers with pointed fingernails the necklace with a small shark's tooth that I always wore.

“Leyla, I have to go to practice,” I hold her wrists and separate her from me.

“Fine,” she smiles and I can see a tiny lipstick stain on one of her teeth. “I'll cheer you on from the stands,” she winks and leaves, followed closely by the other members of her evil cult: Lucy Roberts, Cailyn Bridge, and Nicki Jensen.

“Dude, I'm worried that one of these days she might convince you,” Steve teases as we watch the four girls sit in the stands, crossing their legs almost in perfect sync.

“Are you kidding? I want to keep using my d**k, thank you very much.”

“Where the hell is my quarterback supposed to be?!” I swear Coach's scream can be heard all over the university.

Fuck. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. This is gonna be a long day.