BULLY ROOMMATE

Maverick - Chapter 6

The blindingly bright stadium lights drew sweat against my forehead and soaked the white midriff I wore underneath my LSU jersey.

It became one of the things I became accustomed to while living and playing football in Louisiana.

The heat.

The murmurs of my out-of-state teammates always made me laugh. Nothing compared to the humidity of the southern states—

maybe Hell, but that ranked the closest.

Our game against Vanderbilt left us in a win that erupted our bleachers into an array of flaming purple and gold celebration. All my

bad energy I’d carried around for the past two days sank away beneath the 100 yards that our cleats smashed into for a grueling two

and a half hours.

Playing cornerback gave me plenty of running time, along with the ability to release my anger onto the other team with bone

shattering tackles and gut wrenching blocks. It drowned out the images and frustration that lingered in the back halls of my mind.

The ones I tried so hard to keep away—the staunch smell of alcoholic breath—the rough calloused fingers that tormented my head—

No. I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing any thought of it far from my mind. I swiped my forehead with the back of my hand,

stumbling when Jordan shoved my shoulder from behind.

“Party time, Jackass! You’re still coming with us, aren’t you?”

We made our way into the fieldhouse, and I stripped out of my jersey and tossed it into the laundry in the far corner. I could think of

one million things I’d rather do than go to this party.

I don’t drink. We can’t if we’re playing football, and I hate the stuff anyway.

“Come on,” Jordan said, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

“Don’t touch me you reek,” I said grabbing my duffle before slamming my locker closed.

Jordan leaned against the wall while he watched someone over my shoulder. “King, good game, man.”

I didn’t bother looking. I had no logical reason to hate King, he’d been a good player, and a hard worker, but I still hated that he

knew Josie.

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, his locker slammed.

A mischievous grin climbed Jordan’s face while I chugged an entire Gatorade. “Why are you rushing, King? Got a date tonight?”

My fingers dented the sides of my drink. I waited for his response, feeling my adrenaline spike, all the effort I put into releasing my

feelings onto the field climbed up to strangle me.

“Yeah, I’m picking someone up for the frat party. Y’all coming?”

Jordan slung his jersey over his shoulder. “Yeah, we’ll both be there, right Booker?”

I kept my eyes on my duffle while I fiddled with it, looking for something that I knew wasn’t in there to keep myself busy. “Yeah,” I

said. “I’ll be there.”

Once King exited the building, I felt an odd need to hurry and get to the fraternity house. Josie would spend the night with King, and

I hated it. I’d managed to keep guys away from her in Zachary but this was LSU.

I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could keep every guy from her, but it still stung, irrational or not.

Jordan said something to me, but it sounded far away. Light years away from my acknowledgement. Going was stupid, but I wanted

to, I needed to go home and shower and then go to this stupid party.

Because I needed to what? Watch out for Josie? I’d been the reason she went straight home after school for four years, and now I

need to watch out for her? It sounded stupid when I let it roam through my brain, but my heart screamed for me to go.

I ground my teeth on my walk to my pickup. The imagery of Josie being taken out by King to some godforsaken fraternity party

burned its way into my mind. Would she wear a dress? Something that showed off her slender figure?

I slammed my truck door, started the engine and slung rocks on the way to my apartment. I parked, took the steps two at a time and

found the apartment door locked and her room empty. He’d already picked her up.

Fisting my hair, I tried to calm my anger. Deep down I knew my emotions were out of line, but it didn’t change the little boy’s

feelings inside of me. The one that dug up these memories and reminded me day in and day out.

After a boiling hot shower, I drug on some jeans, and the first t-shirt I found in my chest of drawers. Jordan plowed in as I reached

for the front door. “Dang, Booker, you already heading out?” He tossed his duffel. “You don’t want to wait on me?”

“No.”

Jordan gave me a sheepish grin. “You’re trying to go and see them aren’t you?”

Swinging my keys around my finger, I swallowed the hardened truth that Jordan always knew. “See who?”

Jordan huffed, kicking his dirty cleats onto the living room floor. “Whatever, man. You need to ease up on her.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, squaring my shoulders. “What did she tell you?”

Jordan craned his head, eyeing me as if I needed medical attention that resulted in white walled rooms.

“Nothing, to be honest, I think she’s scared of you. Doesn’t that eat at you?”

Yes! I fought the urge to scream at him. Instead, I let my anger win, and I shoved a finger at him. “Don’t talk about things you don’t

know about, Jordan.”

Jordan pushed his fingers through his sweaty hair. “Whatever. I’ll see you at the party.”

He left me in the living room, feeling worse than I already did, but I didn’t expect him to understand. I didn’t expect anyone to

understand.

Phi Kappa Psi hosted the first party every year according to Jordan. They were the epitome of a stereotypical frat boy. You wouldn’t

find them without a Polo, Sperry’s or daddy’s pocketbook.

Date r**e, anyone?

The music spilled into the street from the house and a crowd gathered in the front yard. I felt myself lose ten I.Q points just walking

through the front door. Cardinal red and hunter green letters hung from the old walls. The TV played some sports channel and some

of the football players sat around on the ancient couch watching.

Someone handed me a red solo cup that I tossed into the soil of a standing plant in the corner. “Good game, Booker!” someone else

yelled, slapping my back. I shoved my way through the crowd to the kitchen, pouring my own cup of beer that I planned to nurse the

rest of the night.

A popular Cardi B song blasted over the speakers, which made everyone howl and turn toward the living room where they’d pushed

recliners and tables out of the way to dance.

“Hey Maverick!” a blonde that looked somewhat familiar said.

I glanced down at her. She was pretty, her t**s pushed up to her cleavage and a midriff showing her abs.

“Hey—uh—,”

“Waverly,” she said, twirling a piece of hair. “We have History together.”

Oh yeah. She sat in front of me, and found reasons to turn around every two seconds. “What’s up,” I said, taking a sip of my cup.

I tried to focus on what she said, but my eyes scanned the array of students, pressed together, for her. Where was she? Part of me

wanted to go upstairs and check the bedrooms to make sure that King didn’t have her doing ... God knew what.

“Maverick!”

Waverly glared at me with an annoyed look. “Huh?”

She sighed. “You think we could go out sometime?”

No. I didn’t want to go out with her, or anyone else, I wanted to find out where Josie was—

The top of King’s LSU baseball hat maneuvered its way through the crowd. He turned and glanced down behind him, and I saw the

top of Josie’s head bouncing up from between the bodies as they walked through.

My fingers clutched around my drink, crushing the sides until the liquid poured out over the top of my hand.

“Oh!” Waverly yelped, jumping back to miss the amber liquid catching her shoes. “You’re spilling that,” she said, carefully taking

the cup from my hand.

King held Josie’s hand as he led her toward the kitchen and poured her a drink. She looked ... happy. Her smile wider than I ever

remembered it before. Deep down I knew I’d been responsible for her frowns, and I hated myself for it, because I wanted her to

smile at me.

“Okay,” Waverly said. “I can tell you’re not in the mood to talk.” She stormed off into the mist of people.

Josie laughed at something King said, a blush traveled up her neck and rested against her cheeks. He couldn’t be that funny. I

stepped toward them, not knowing what I would do when I got there, but someone’s palm gripped my shoulder.

Jordan gave me an easy grin. “You're not drinking?” he asked, chugging half his cup.

I sighed. “Coach is going to know you drank at practice in the morning, and you’ll have to run drills.”

Jordan brushed me off, nodding his head at some girl that gave him a finger wave. Unable to stop myself, my eyes traveled over

toward them again. King pulled Josie by her arm toward the dance floor, and she giggled and tried to run the other way.

A growl that I didn’t recognize slipped from my mouth, and before I knew it, I’d taken off after them. King turned her around, her

hand above her head, and pulled her close to him.

Josie bit her bottom lip, a slither of her belly showed when she finally loosened up and raised her other arm above her head—

"Yo,” Jordan said, swinging me around. The look on his face told me he knew my plan. “Don’t do it, Booker,” he whispered, arm

tight on my shoulder.

I shoved him off, turning again, but this time he pulled me back harder and stood in front of me. The people around us formed a

small circle, not enough to stop the party, but enough to catch some attention.

“Don’t,” he warned.

The loud music blasting my eardrums, the sway of people, and the overwhelming sense of confusion hit me hard. I felt vomit climb

my throat. The dim lighting, the laughs, and the loud sound of the bass doubled me over. I braced my palms against my knees and tried to control my breathing.

Jordan placed his hand on my shoulder as I squeezed my eyes tight. When I felt calm enough to make a run for it, I stood and made

eye contact with Jordan. Josie’s eyes caught mine from over his shoulder.

I didn’t want her to see me vulnerable. Hiding this part of me was part of my survival as an alpha male in high school, and it

wouldn’t change now.

Josie swayed lightly on her feet, King’s jaw locked and his eyes narrowed my way behind her. I wanted to knock his lights out but I

knew there was no reason for it.

I didn’t have the right.

And I wanted—needed—that right. I just didn’t know how to change it, but I would.

I’d change myself, change the way she looked at me, and ... maybe, I’d get to have what the man I’d grown into wanted, not the little

boy, and that was Josie Lee.