It's all up in the air right now. Jesse might not actually be a horrible guy; he might just be involved in some really messed up things. Or he could truly be a horrible guy. Isabel's banking on the former.Was Jesse sincere? And will he ever be sincere in the future?
Yes, instead of this being the wake-up call Isabel so desperately needed, it seems that it's pushing her even further down her shame spiral.A part of me had hoped that the drama would've opened her eyes. Like walking against a wall, can open your eyes for the real thing in front of you. Apparently it made her even more blind. What a mess!
Rod:
Yes, they have no time to waste. And Maria knows this, but sometimes she gets so caught up in and distracted by her relationship with Michael that she doesn't always make it a priority. And of course Michael doesn't really have any idea what he's getting himself into, because he's . . . well, Michael.Michael and Maria don't have time to be dragging their feet. Not only do they have to move across country, find a place to live and start school. ......they have to do it all with a kid!
Sara:
Yeah, at some point, Tess just had to let go of what little remained of her friendship with Isabel and hope for the best. There's only so much a person can do to save someone, because eventually they have to save themselves.And I think Tess did the right thing. She can't do anymore for Isabel. She did what she could do. It is really too bad at this point.
Isabel won't admit it right now, but she pretty much feels like scum herself, so she probably feels right at home with them, like she belongs.Jesse is scum. Courtney and Eric are scum too and yet Isabel still hangs out with them.
He's really an awful guy. His whole personality and attitude towards life is so draining.Andy.....is he dead yet? OMG I am sorry but seriously...he is such a waste of space.
Thanks for the feedback!
For those who read my fic 521 back in the day and recall parts of it, there is a subtle reference to a certain scene of it in this part thrown in just for the heck of it.
Part 65
By Michael’s estimate—and by Google Maps’ estimate—it was going to take a good sixteen to seventeen hours to get to Tuscaloosa, if you factored in a few stops here and there for food and bathrooms. Michael’s plan was to drive it all in a straight shot, stopping only when necessary. Leaving Friday evening would allow them to get there around 8:00 or 9:00 the next morning, giving them plenty of time to go look at some apartments before the game. But hopefully they didn’t spend too long looking at apartments, because he really wanted to go tailgating with Maria.
“Alright, stuff’s all packed up,” he announced when he came inside after loading everything into their new car. “Let’s get this show on the road.” The house was quiet, though. No Maria, no Dylan waiting eagerly by the stairs. “Maria?” he called.
She came out of Dylan’s bedroom a moment later, looking worried. “Oh, Michael, I don’t know what to do,” she fretted.
“What’s wrong?”
“Dylan’s sick. He was complaining about a sore throat this morning, so I stayed home with him, but now he’s not feeling any better. Now he’s getting a runny nose, and he’s sneezing and--”
“Okay, kids get colds all the time,” he reminded her. “He’ll be fine.”
“I know, but he can’t go on a road trip like this.”
Oh, crap. He sighed, knowing she was right. Dylan hadn’t even come running up to him to give him a hug after he’d gotten home from school, so that probably meant he was really under the weather. Poor kid. “Alright, so what does that mean for us?” he asked. “Are we not goin’ now or what?”
“Well . . .” She looked painstakingly frustrated. “I wanna go. But I feel like I have to stay and take care of him.”
Well, that settled it then. If she was staying, so was he. The trip wouldn’t be any fun without her. Kyle would be down on the sidelines, so he wasn’t going to drive all the way there by himself so he could watch the game by himself.
Dylan started calling, “Mommy . . .” from the bedroom, and Maria obediently headed back into the bedroom to see what he needed.
Dammit, Michael thought. Why did this have to happen? All he wanted was this one weekend to get away with all the crap they always dealt with here in Roswell. He’d been looking forward to it from the second Kyle had given him the tickets.
He heard his mom’s car pulling up outside, and inspiration struck. He hurried out and got to her as she was getting out of the car.
“Honey, what’re you still doing here?” she asked. “I thought you wanted to be on the road by now.”
“I did, but I had detention after school.”
His mom gave him a look.
“What? Mr. Frost is an ass! I called him out on it today and he made me stay after school.”
“Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself,” she suggested.
“I can’t.”
Completely used to it, his mom actually laughed a little and patted his cheek. “Well, you’d better get going soon.”
“Yeah, slight problem: Dylan’s got a cold,” he informed her.
“Oh, no. Poor thing. Springtime, sinuses . . .”
“Yeah, Maria says he can’t go, so . . . we’re kinda stuck here unless . . .” He trailed off, giving her a hopeful look.
“Unless what?” she asked warily.
“Unless my wonderful, beautiful mother agrees to watch him for the weekend.”
She put her hands on her hips and didn’t respond right away, like she was biting her tongue momentarily. “Michael.”
“Yes?”
“You can’t just spring this on me. I have to work tomorrow.”
“You’re your own boss. Give yourself the day off.”
“I’d have to find a replacement. Tina and I were gonna go shopping tomorrow. We can’t very well do that if I’m taking care of a sick toddler.”
“Mom, please,” he begged, not opposed to getting down on his knees if that was what it took. “We gotta go.”
“To a football game?”
“We were gonna go look at apartments, too. We’re being responsible. We wanna figure out where we’re gonna live when we move there.”
Her on-edge expression softened, and he knew he had her with that. She was so used to him being careless that she couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to help him get a head start on his plans for the future. “Fine,” she relented. “I’ll watch him.”
“Thank you. You’re the best mom ever.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then darted towards the house to tell Maria the good news.
“Michael,” she called after him.
He stopped on the porch, itching to just get going already. “Yeah?”
She stared at him seriously and cautioned, “Keep in mind, next year, you won’t have me to fall back on. Or Amy or anyone. It’ll all be on you and Maria. Do you think you can handle that?”
He was well aware of how much his mom did for him. This was just another thing to add to an already long list. “Yeah, we’ll be fine,” he assured her, truly believing that they would be. If something like this happened next year, they’d just have to miss out on whatever they had planned. But for now, they still had some help. Why not utilize it?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It wasn’t going to be a complex drive to Tuscaloosa. Just a long one. Michael was really hoping his new car would make it through the drive, because the farthest he’d driven it up until this point was to school and back. It was going to be so embarrassing if it conked out and he couldn’t fix it. Although, a flat tire . . . that he could handle. He knew how to fix one of those, could do it right on the side of the road. Maybe, if it came to that, Maria would be impressed by his machismo.
“Are you sure you’re gonna be able to drive this whole way?” she asked him as they drove down the desolate highway that night.
“I’m good,” he promised.
“Because it’s a really long way, Michael.”
“Babe, I got this. I’m a good driver.”
“We could switch off, if you get tired,” she offered.
“No, Maria, I’m fine,” he reiterated. “I’m a guy.”
She made a face. “What does that mean?”
“This is how you do it when you take a road trip somewhere. The guy drives so his woman can sleep on the way there. It’s like a romantic, considerate thing. Roll with it.”
“Well . . .” She curled her legs up underneath herself. “That is kinda sweet.”
“Besides, I drank, like, five Red Bulls in detention today.”
“Ugh, I hate energy drinks.”
“Yeah, I know, so do I, but they worked. I’m fuckin’ wired.” There was no way he could nod off, even if he wanted to. Tomorrow night at this time . . . then he’d be tired. But his plan was to just keep knocking back those energy drinks for as long as he needed them, and he was pretty sure it would work.
“I wonder how Dylan’s doing,” she pondered sadly.
“You gotta stop worrying about him,” he told her. He loved Dylan, too, and he would have much rather had the little guy in the backseat, making the trip with them. But that just wasn’t the way it had turned out. “He’s fine. You just talked to my mom an hour ago. She said he fell asleep, remember?”
“I know, but I just feel so guilty,” she confessed. “I feel like I should be there with him.”
“Maria, you can’t be with him all the time.”
“But I’m his mom. And he’s sick. And I know it’s just a cold, but . . . I feel guilty.”
“He’s in good hands with my mom,” he reassured her. “When I was little, I got strep throat about four times in one year. And every single time, she made me this chicken noodle soup. But it was better than the stuff straight outta the can, you know? She had some little secret. I bet she gave that to Dylan tonight, and he’s already feelin’ better.”
“I hope so,” Maria said. “I’ll call again in the morning. Don’t mind me if I call a lot tomorrow.”
“No, that’s fine. But don’t forget, you gotta let loose this weekend, too, have a good time.”
“It’s not all about having a good time, though,” she reminded him. “We’ve gotta be serious about this apartment stuff. When we meet the landlords, we can’t seem all irresponsible and immature.”
“But we are irresponsible and immature.”
She huffed, “Speak for yourself. I haven’t been irresponsible and immature for a long time.”
“I’m just kidding.” He couldn’t help but feel that many of his attempts at humor during this excursion so far had fallen flat. “You’re very edgy tonight, aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s just . . . this moving thing’s kinda stressful, and with Dylan being sick . . .”
“I know.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll figure it all out. And just remember . . . at least we’ve got a car.”
“We’ve got a car,” she echoed. “That’s halfway paid off.”
“No, don’t say the second part. Just say ‘We’ve got a car.’”
“We’ve got a car,” she repeated, folding her arms over her chest. “I’ll feel better when we have an apartment, though. Do you like that one we looked up on that one site? The one that only costs five-hundred a month?”
He scrunched up his face in disdain. “Not really.” It didn’t have a pool.
“Why not?”
“Uh, because it’s in the ghetto.”
“Michael, it’s Alabama. There is no ghetto.”
“Yeah, there is. And that apartment’s smack dab in the middle of it. I don’t want you and Dylan livin’ there.”
“But we have to pick out something we can afford.”
“Uh . . .” he groaned. This whole money situation was really starting to piss him off. He was tired of thinking about how many bills they were going to have to pay and how they were going to manage to pay them. It stressed him out just as much as it stressed her out, so he just didn’t want to worry about it. His mom and dad had managed just fine for the past eighteen years, and neither one of them had ever had a great job. Things tended to work themselves out if you just let them.
“Michael, I’m sorry,” she apologized again. “I don’t mean to be a nag about this, but it’s stuff we have to think about.”
“Yeah, I know,” he grumbled. “Trust me, I got a lot of other stuff to think about, too. Like all these football practices I’m gonna have to go to, what classes I’m gonna sign up for. I don’t even know what the hell I’m gonna study, Maria.” He didn’t really care about getting a degree. He knew it would help him out in the long run when it came to getting a well-paying job someday, but for now, it just seemed like more studying. And studying was something he’d never been very good at, nor particularly enjoyed . . . unless he and Maria were employing their body part methodology. Phosphorous.
“I don’t even know where I’m gonna work,” she worried. “And it’s always so fun to answer questions during job interviews about why you didn’t finish high school and if you think being well-educated is a good quality in an employee.”
“Hey, put me down as a reference,” he told her.
“I can’t use you as a reference, Michael. You’re my boyfriend.”
“They don’t have to know that. For all they know, I’m a former boss or a coworker. Named Ricardo Fuego.” He grinned.
Finally, that got a laugh out of her. “You sure? Not Doctor Love?”
“No, I think that’d be way too obvious.”
“Oh, and Ricardo Fuego’s not?” she teased.
“Fine, John Smith or something. I don’t care. Just put me down as a reference so, when they call me, I can tell them how amazing you really are.” He wriggled his eyebrows before adding, “In bed.”
“Oh, shut up!” She whacked his shoulder playfully, and he sensed her easing up, letting the stress slip away as some of his carefree attitude rubbed off on her. Mission accomplished.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The first two apartments Michael and Maria went to were so shabby on the outside that they didn’t even bother looking at the inside. The third one looked nice on the outside, but those looks were deceiving, because on the inside, it was a dump. They were both hoping the fourth place, Gateway Apartments, would be the charm. It was just a few miles away from campus, and judging from what they had seen online, they both thought it looked promising.
They met Gus, the landlord, and he seemed like a nice guy. He was on the heftier side and insisted they take the elevator up to an apartment they had for rent on the third level, because he couldn’t handle walking the stairs.
“You two ain’t from around here, are you?” he said as they got onto the elevator car.
“How’d you know?” Maria asked.
“Well, spring game today. If you’re from Bama, you’re wearin’ Bama gear.”
“Unless you’re an Auburn fan,” Michael pointed out.
“We don’t speak about that team in this building, son.”
Michael chuckled. “Then I’m guessing you don’t speak about the historic Iron Bowl? The kick-six. I don’t care what side you were rootin’ for; that was one of the most epic, incredible football plays of all time.”
“Yeah, we definitely don’t speak about that.” Gus punched the number three, and the elevator doors shut. “You two goin’ to the game today?” he asked.
“Yeah, got pretty good seats,” Michael replied.
“You oughta stop and get some proper clothes. Roll Tide. You find that stuff everywhere around here.”
“We’ll have to get a lot of Alabama clothes,” Maria said. “Michael’s going to college here next year. He’s gonna be on the football team.”
“Really?” Gus’s whole face lit up as the elevator slowly rumbled to a stop.
“Well, I’m just gonna try to make it as a walk-on,” Michael said, stepping out.
“What position you play?”
“Wide receiver.”
Gus nodded, motioning for Maria to go in front of him. “That’s good,” he said. “We need some young talent every year.”
“My best friend’s Kyle Valenti,” Michael added.
Now Gus’s face really lit up. “The quarterback we landed?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Quite the buzz about him around here. He as good as they say he is?”
“Yeah,” Michael assured him. “He’s better.”
They headed down the hall, the two guys still talking about football, Maria hanging behind, liking that Michael was getting along so well with this guy, this guy that could very well be their landlord for the next four or five years. It was important to make a good first impression.
“So let me guess, sweetheart,” Gus said to her. “You must be a cheerleader.”
Maria laughed a little at the irony of him saying that. “No, I’m just a waitress.”
“She’s the best waitress,” Michael proclaimed.
“Oh, I’m sure. Alright, well, here we go.” Gus opened the door to apartment 317. He didn’t even have it locked, which was kind of reassuring to Maria. That must have meant that he trusted his residents, and hopefully that meant this was a safe, easy-going place to live. “This is what our two-bedroom units look like.”
Maria and Michael went inside, and she was immediately more impressed by this place than the last one. It wasn’t huge by any means, but it didn’t need to be. It had a nice open feel to it.
“You can see you got a full living room, kitchenette, counter,” Gus showcased. “Probably got room for a table if you got one.”
Maria smoothed her hand over the counter. Even though it wasn’t new, everything in the kitchen looked nice and clean and well-maintained. Not that she and Michael would be doing a whole lot in there. Neither one of them knew a whole lot about cooking.
“Hey, balcony,” he remarked, looking out the sliding doors.
“Yeah, some of our units have balconies, some don’t,” Gus said. “I think all the ones we have for rent right now, though, do. And all the ones in this particular building come with garages.”
“Well, that’s good,” Michael said, smirking goofily, “ ‘cause we got a car.”
“We got a car,” she echoed quietly. “Can we see the bedrooms?”
Gus chuckled. “Lady who knows what she wants, huh?”
“Hell yeah, she does.” Michael winked at her and headed down the hall. She followed him, and Gus stayed out in the living room.
“Yep, just have a look around,” he said. “Two bedrooms, bathroom, washer/dryer hookup. Not a bad space.”
Michael stopped to look in the bathroom while Maria went and surveyed the bedrooms. The bigger one, which would obviously have to be theirs, looked just slightly bigger than the room they were in now. And the smaller bedroom, which was adjacent to it, was bigger than what Dylan was currently sleeping in. Nothing looked dilapidated or like it was falling apart. Everything seemed to be in pretty good condition.
“Now would it just be you two?” Gus called to them.
Maria walked back out into the living room and said, “No, I have a son.”
Michael cleared his throat as he came out of the bathroom.
“We have a son,” she corrected. She hoped he understood that, when she said things like that, it wasn’t because she didn’t view him as a father figure to Dylan; she just wasn’t used to referring to anyone as Dylan’s dad.
“Oh, yeah? How old is he?”
“He’s three. But very well-behaved.”
Gus laughed. “They ain’t pets, honey. You don’t gotta have permission to bring kids in here.”
“Right, of course.”
Michael went over to the sliding doors again and looked out over the balcony. “Is there a pool?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. What was with this boy’s sudden pool obsession? Was he wanting to play naked Marco Polo or something? Because that was never ever going to happen.
That was most likely never ever going to happen.
“No pool,” Gus answered, “but there’s one in walking distance, about five blocks east of here. Real family-friendly place. Pretty good location around here. You’re close to just about everything you need.”
“And how much is rent?” Maria asked, afraid that all her hopes for this place were about to come crashing down.
“Six-hundred.”
Well . . . that wasn’t the highest number ever; but it wasn’t the lowest, either. “Per month?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And does that include the garage or anything else?”
“Water and garage and trash. You gotta pay for utilities, electric, cable/internet.”
She was already trying to think about what they could cut back on. Maybe she could convince Michael to go without cable TV. It wasn’t likely, though. He would want the priciest cable plan, the one with all the soft-core porn channels.
“It’s pretty affordable,” Gus recapped, “for the quality you’re gettin’.”
“Yeah, I like it,” Michael declared.
Maria didn’t want to enter into any sort of contract just yet, though, without exploring a few more options, so she said, “Well, you know, we’re kinda just looking at places today, trying to figure out what our price range is.”
“Sure, sure,” Gus said. “Well, say, listen, you two seem like a nice little couple. We’d love to have you here.”
“We’d love to be here,” Michael said.
“Possibly,” she added.
“Well, we usually got at least one two-bedroom up for rent at a time,” Gus said. “You just let me know if you think this is the place. And—just throwin’ this out there . . . you two married yet?”
Maria completely froze. Where had that come from?
“Not yet,” Michael said, shooting her a quick smile.
“Well, I am an ordained minister,” Gus revealed. “So if you want . . . move in, and we do the damn thing right here.”
Maria laughed nervously. Oh god, he wasn’t being serious, was he? Because she wasn’t having her landlord do her wedding, no matter how nice he was.
“Gus, you’re a pretty funny guy,” Michael remarked. “But I think when I put a ring on this one here, it’s gonna be a little more sophisticated than that. You know what I mean?”
“Of course, of course.”
Maria felt like her heart was speeding up at the mere thought of it. This talk of marriage, putting a ring on it . . . it was head-spinning, but in a really good way. And the fact that Michael had already mentioned it before just made it seem even more real.
Gus’s phone rang, and he took it out of his pocket and looked down at who was calling. “Just a minute,” he said, answering. “Yeah?” After a moment’s pause, he said, “Alright, I’ll swing on by in a minute. We’ll get it taken care of.” He put the phone back in his pocket and said, “I’m sorry, y’all. I gotta go take care of somethin’ for one of the other residents. If you wanna stay and look around a little more, though, you have at it. I’ll make sure I see you before you leave, alright?”
“Okay,” Maria said, liking the fact that he was a hands-on landlord who didn’t just say he would help his residents with things but apparently really did. “Thanks.”
“See you in a bit,” Michael said, and Gus waved to them as he left the apartment. When he was gone, Michael turned to her and asked, “What do you think?”
“I like it,” she said. “The rent’s a little bit higher than what I was hoping for, but it’s nice.”
“Yeah, I’m kinda pissed there’s no pool, but . . . Gus seems pretty cool, huh? Laid-back.”
“Yeah. And it’s important to have a good landlord.”
“It is,” he agreed, making his way towards her, his gaze focused, intense.
“What’re you looking at?” she asked.
“Just you.” He literally licked his lips, and the sight of that really turned her on. “I’m just picturing you in one of my t-shirts, standin’ in this kitchen, makin’ breakfast.”
“Makin’ Poptarts, most likely.”
He slinked his arms around her waist, pulling her close against him. “Do you want to?” he asked, his voice low and throaty.
“Make Poptarts?”
“No.” He chuckled, then got that serious, intense look in his eyes again as he slipped his hands underneath the back of her shirt. “Do you want to?”
“Oh.” It clicked. She got it. Understood what he was asking. “Here? Now?’
“Right here, right now.” He grinned mischievously.
“But this isn’t our apartment,” she protested.
“Yeah, but it could be. And don’t you think, before we make a decision on it, we should test it out, see if it feels right?”
“Oh my god.” She couldn’t believe what he was suggesting, even though she could believe it. Michael was so sexually uninhibited, and it was rubbing off on her, too. He was awakening so many sexual desires and fantasies she hadn’t even realized she had, and it seemed that, whatever he suggested, she always ended up enjoying herself. But she really didn’t want Gus to walk in and find them going at it in a place they hadn’t even agreed to rent yet, because that would totally destroy the good impression they had managed to make.
“Oh, yeah, you want to,” he said confidently, already moving his hands down to reach down the back of her jeans and cup her ass.
“You have to make it quick,” she told him. “He’s coming back.”
“Oh, I can make it quick.”
“Quick but good?”
“Always good.” He pressed his lips to hers, not bothering with slow, gentle kisses this time. His tongue dove right in to explore her mouth and his hands squeezed her ass. Before she knew it, he was mumbling, “The bedroom, the bedroom,” and backing her down the hallway in that direction.
Oh god, could this be our bedroom? she wondered as she tumbled into it with him. The things they could do there . . . the things she longed to do . . .
“There’s no bed,” she pointed out as she hurriedly undid his pants for him. “What’re we gonna do?”
“I guess I’ll just have to . . . do you up against the wall then.” He grabbed her and lifted her up, backing her up against the wall, pressing her back against it hard.
“Oh . . .” she moaned. Already, it felt so good, and they hadn’t even really started yet.
He pushed his pants down so he could take his cock out, pressing it up against her, rubbing his groin against hers. “Do you want to?” he asked again.
“Hell yes.” When it came to sex with Michael, there was nothing she had ever wanted to do more.
He unfastened her jeans even quicker than she’d unfastened his and dragged them down over her hips almost frantically, like he couldn’t get to it fast enough. “I’m gonna fuck the hell outta you,” he promised, spinning her around. “Bend over.”
She did as he instructed, pushing her hips back, bracing her hands against the wall. Before they got too caught up in it, though, she reminded him, “Condom.”
“Already workin’ on it.” He ripped open the small foil package and unrolled the condom onto his stiff cock seamlessly.
“Oh, Michael, please . . .” She didn’t even have time to finish, though, because all of a sudden, he was just in her, all the way, filling her, thrusting right from the start. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “Yes.”
“Fuck,” he grunted, grabbing onto her hips so he could really grind her.
“Oh god.” She felt so aroused. As much as she loved making love to Michael Guerin, there were times, like right now, when it felt equally as good, or even better, to just get fucked by him. When they went at it like this, it made her feel like she was something beyond just his girlfriend. More like . . . his mate. Like he was mating with her.
“Do you like that?” he asked gruffly as his skin slapped against hers. “You like how my cock feels?”
She smiled dazedly, liking the dirty talk almost more than anything. “Yes, I love it.”
“Yeah?”
“I fucking love it.” She wanted to say more, be more graphic, because she knew that, when she talked dirty to him, he went out of control. But she felt like she could barely breathe with the way he was raging into her, each thrust a hard, jarring one that rattled her to the core.
But suddenly, he stilled, his cock still nestled inside her but not moving now.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpered, needy in the moment; but he just grinned at her devilishly.
Oh, you bastard, she thought. He was playing with her, making her work for it now. Desperately, she started to press herself back against him, recreating that thrusting sensation. But it wasn’t the same, because she couldn’t do it as fast as he could.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he encouraged, seeming to enjoy watching her work. “Back up on it, baby.”
She kept up her movements, getting very exhausted very quickly, and she felt thankful when he grabbed her hips and started thrusting again. He just had the perfect rhythm to pound her. And she so wanted to be pounded.
Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “I swear to you, I won’t stop ‘til your legs are shaking and the neighbors know my name.”
“Uh!” she cried as he slammed his cock into her. Her legs were already shaking, so she wasn’t sure how she’d be able to walk around campus after all this. “Oh, Michael!”
“Say it again,” he urged, pulling back on her hair.
With her neck arched back, she cried out, “Oh god, Michael! Fuck!”
“Come here,” he said, wrapping his arm around her stomach, straightening her up. “Come on.” Still somehow managing to stay inside her, he walked her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, flipping on the light switch as he bent her over the counter. Michael really had a thing for doing it in the bathroom, and he often confessed that he wished they could do it there more.
“Look at how good we look,” he said, staring at their reflections in the mirror.
Oh, they did look good. She loved the sight of him behind her, coupled with the feel of him inside her. It looked like an image that was just meant to be. “Please keep going,” she begged, feeling like she was close. She wanted to get off on this so badly, because it felt so freaking hot.
He started moving again, grunting and groaning the way he tended to do, and out of habit, she closed her eyes.
“No, open ‘em,” he told her.
She did. She would have done anything he told her to do in that moment.
“Watch yourself,” he said. “Watch yourself get fucked.”
“Oh . . .” Getting to see it happening made it even more amazing. Pseudo-voyeurism. Yet another thing she’d had no idea she would enjoy as much as she was, but Michael had her begging for it, reveling in it, and completely getting off on it.
“Cum with me baby,” he murmured huskily, reaching around to rub her clit.
“Oh, fuck.” She had to fight to keep her eyes open as her orgasm built up in her. When it hit, she couldn’t help but let them fall closed as it washed over her, consumed her, elevated her. He came just a few seconds later after a few more thrusts, pressing his whole cock up into her as he exploded. She was able to open her eyes again and watch his expression as he did so. He got this look of concentration on his face when he had an orgasm, like all he could do was focus on what he was feeling for as long as he was feeling it. The guy really did just love sex, and at this point, she suspected she loved it as much as he did.
“Quick but good?” he asked as he came back down from it.
“So good.” She kind of wanted to do it again.
Unfortunately, Gus came back in the apartment, hollering, “Hey, you two, you still here?”
“Shit,” Michael swore, quickly pulling out of her. He pulled his jeans up, grimacing as they scraped over his still slightly hard erection, and refastened them without taking his condom off. She put herself back together in a hurry, too, just in time. Gus came and found them in the bathroom.
“We were just looking at the mirror,” Maria managed to get out, holding onto the counter she’d just been fucked over. “And the sink. It’s a . . . it’s a good sink.”
“Good bathroom,” Michael added. “Bedroom, too.”
“Pretty great, huh?” Gus agreed enthusiastically.
“Yeah.” Maria felt dazed, but happy and very satisfied. “It was great.” Her legs were, as he had promised, shaking.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael insisted that they head to the game after the tour of the Gateway apartment, and Maria didn’t require much persuasion. After their little romp, she felt all fun and excited, totally not in the mood to look at more apartments. Besides, they seemed to have found the right one if they could swing it financially.
Michael took her tailgating, which, he said, was something everybody needed to experience at least once in their lives, whether they were a football fan or not. She’d never been tailgating before, but she knew she’d be doing a lot of it next year with Tess and Jim Valenti, at least. And hopefully Michael’s family would be able to make the trip once in a while. At least Krista and Tina, anyway.
It was amazing to her that Michael could just happen upon some random group of friends, barbecuing and drinking in the parking lot, and fit in with them right away, as if he’d known them for his entire life. She had plenty of people skills of her own and was perfectly comfortable hanging out, but he was on another level. After a few beers, he was tossing a football around the parking lot and helping grill up burgers. And nobody seemed to mind that he had just wandered in. Maybe that was the point of tailgating. It was a party where anyone and everyone was invited, as long as you were a Crimson Tide fan.
Seeing him so free-spirited made her feel free-spirited, too, and she had a couple beers and danced around to country songs, even though she didn’t like country music, with the other women who were part of the tailgate group. Even if there hadn’t been a game coming up, if this had been all they had come here for, it would have been worth it, because it was a good time. And not the wasted, low-life good time high school parties tended to be. Just . . . fun. Good old-fashioned, harmless fun.
Having never been to a college football game, let alone a college where football was the equivalent of life itself, Maria was amazed when they went into the stadium. She stayed close to Michael, holding his hand so she wouldn’t get separated in the crowd, and he tried to locate their seats. Eventually, though, he just sat down and pulled her down beside him.
“Are these our seats?” she asked. They were a little closer than she’d thought they would be.
“Hell if I know,” he mumbled. “If anyone tells us to move, I’ll tell ‘em to go fuck themselves.”
“No confrontations,” she told him, taking her cell phone out of her purse as it vibrated. She saw that she had a text from Krista, whom she’d spoken to earlier that morning. It was just a quick message letting her know that Dylan was up and around and playing with his toy cars now.
“Ooh, yay,” she squealed.
“What?”
“Your mom just texted me. She says Dylan’s feeling better.”
“See? I knew he probably just had a twenty-four hour thing.”
“I’m so glad.”
He leaned towards her, nudging her shoulder, and asked, “You don’t still feel guilty about coming here without him then, do you?”
“No, I do,” she mumbled in admittance as she sent Krista a quick text back.
“What? Why?”
“Michael, I’m a mom. I feel guilty about everything.” She sent the message and put her phone away, looking out on the sea of people surrounding her. Holy crap. It was overwhelming. There were so many people dressed in crimson, and she was one of them. On the way to the stadium, they’d stopped in the university store and bought a few clothes, which were way overpriced but somehow irresistible. Hers was a fitted tee that said Roll Tide, and Michael had gotten a loose t-shirt that simply said Dynasty, but the A in the word was the Alabama logo.
“You ever been to anything like this?” he asked her.
“No.” She was starting to understand why people got so into football, though. The atmosphere was electric. “This is crazy.”
He said something, but it was so loud, she couldn’t even hear him.
“What?”
He leaned over and spoke directly into her ear. “Just imagine what it’s like for a real game.”
“Oh my god, I bet it’s nuts.”
“Yeah, Kyle and I went to their game against LSU this year. It was wild.”
“I guess I’ll have to get season tickets next year,” she said. “Wonder how much those cost.”
“Don’t worry about the cost,” he told her, waving his hand into the air to attract the attention of a kid who was walking around trying to sell hot dogs. “Hey, over here!”
The kid, who couldn’t have been much older than Tina, came over to them and asked, “How many?”
“You want one?” Michael asked her.
“Uh, sure.”
“You got anything else in there?” Michael asked the kid.
“Just hot dogs.”
“Fine, we’ll take three.”
“You’re having two?” she asked him.
“No, you are. I’ve seen the way you eat.”
She hit his arm, pretending to be offended, but he was right. She could put down a lot of food when she was hungry, and even after all the tailgating goodness, she was starving.
“Nine dollars,” the kid said as he handed over three foil-wrapped hot dogs.
“Nine . . . fuckin’ dollars,” Michael cursed, taking a ten out of his wallet. “Keep the change, kid.”
“Thanks. Hot dog!” the kid continued to yell as he marched up the steps. He had either walked around a lot already or that container was very heavy, because he was sweating.
“The food’s expensive,” Maria remarked.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “I really need a burger, though.”
“You already had a burger today.”
“I need another one. And somethin’ to drink. And something cold. And something sweet. I need a lot of candy. I don’t care how much it costs.”
“Did you bring enough money?” she asked.
“Yeah, I swiped two twenties from my dad’s wallet.”
She gave him a disapproving look. “Michael . . .”
“Don’t give me that look. I don’t even feel bad about it.”
She sighed. Well . . . why would he? For all the crap he had to put up with from his dad, she supposed she could turn a blind eye to his . . . well, stealing, technically.
She bit into her first hot dog, disappointed that she couldn’t put any ketchup on it and continued looking around. There was one particular section of people who were her and Michael’s age. Most of them were standing, and they all looked like they were about to spontaneously combust with excitement. “Is that the student section?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She gazed at them longingly, wishing she could be a part of it. Not one of them looked like they had a care in the world. There were guys with their shirts off and letters painted on their chests to spell out Roll Tide, and girls who seemed perfectly comfortable forgoing an actual top and wearing a simple bikini top with jean shorts instead. They were trying to get the wave going, and even though they were failing miserably, it looked like the effort itself was fun.
Down below, on the sidelines, there were the cheerleaders. Not just girls on this squad, but guys, too. They were lifting the girls up, and the girls were holding signs, getting the crowd to start yelling “Roll!” on one side of the stadium and “Tide!” on the other. That definitely was the motto around here.
When Tess came here for her freshman year, she could be one of those cheerleaders. At the very least, she would be a student in the student section. She would totally and completely belong in some way.
She looked down at the players’ sideline, where Kyle was already in the midst of belonging. There were too many people, though, and she couldn’t spot him directly, but she knew he was down there, already getting to know the other guys on the team.
“You alright?” Michael asked.
She realized she must have looked spacey. “Yeah,” she replied. “I was just watching the cheerleaders and stuff.”
Michael grunted. “Male cheerleaders. That’s so gay.”
“I bet not all of ‘em are gay,” she wagered. “In fact, I bet a lot of them really enjoy their job. Look.” She pointed out an extremely bulky guy who was lifting up a petite girl on one hand. “He can probably see right up her skirt.”
“Huh.” Michael looked contemplative. “Screw football, then. I’m becoming a cheerleader.”
“Hey!”
“Just kidding. Your skirt’s the only one I wanna look under.” He grinned, then leaned in and kissed her quick.
He got the rest of his food, and they ate and talked until the team ran out onto the field. That was when Michael’s expression changed from one of casual enjoyment to utter intrigue. His eyes lit up. His whole face lit up. When the team took to the field, the crowd thundered, but Michael was absolutely silent. He just watched, clearly amazed, clearly more inspired than he would ever let on, and Maria saw how much he really loved this game. She’d never realized it before, just how deep his passion for this sport went, but now she was seeing it up close. It was written all over his face.
“That’ll be you out there next year,” she told him.
He smiled. “Ah, maybe.”
“Probably.”
“Maybe,” he repeated. “It’ll be Kyle out there next year. That’s for sure.”
“Yeah, but you two are such a more lethal combination together,” she pointed out. “I’m sure the coaches will see that.”
“Maybe,” he just kept saying, probably not wanting to get his hopes up. “Hey, so which side’s gonna win here? Crimson or White?”
“Duh, Crimson.” Like she knew. She didn’t know who any of these players were, let alone many of the rules for the game. If she was right, it would be a lucky guess.
He scoffed at her prediction. “White. Let’s bet.”
“What do you wanna bet?”
“I don’t know. Something sexual.”
“Of course. Hmm . . .” She had a couple of ideas in mind, but something told her he had some pretty imaginative ideas of his own. “I don’t know, I’ll have to think about that.”
“Standing sixty-nine,” he blurted.
“What?” Was that what it sounded like? Because that sounded . . . really difficult.
“If the White team wins, and therefore I win . . . I wanna try it.”
Luckily it was so loud there that no one else could hear what he was saying. Or hear her agree to it. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He looked pleased that she’d agreed to it so readily.
“You’re not gonna win, though. I’m gonna win.”
He laughed in derision. “Oh, yeah, right. You don’t even know how many points a touchdown’s worth.”
“Yes, I do!” she argued. “Seven.”
“Six,” he corrected.
“No, it’s seven.”
“It’s six. You get the extra point and then it’s seven.”
“Oh.” She just stared at him, silently admitting defeat. Yeah, he had this one in the bag. Standing sixty-nine, here I come.
While the game was going on, Michael explained the plays to Maria, tried to tell her why they were doing certain things, why certain moves were allowed and others were classified as penalties. He was surprisingly patient when she asked him to explain the refs’ arm motions, and all in all, it seemed like he enjoyed being able to impart some of his knowledge. It was so cute watching a boy who hated studying and learning in all forms ironically enjoy teaching things to her.
Michael had taught her a lot, actually. More than he would ever know.
Near the end of halftime, Kyle came up into the stands and found them, looking like a wide-eyed kid in a candy store as he got a glimpse of the next years of his life here. “You guys made it, huh?” he said. “What do you think?”
“Offense looks like shit,” Maria blurted.
Kyle gave her a surprised look.
She motioned to Michael and said, “That’s what he’s been saying this entire time.”
“Well, they do,” Michael said. “Look, man, from what I’m seein’, there’s no way either of these guys are gonna start at quarterback. You’re gonna wipe the floor with ‘em.”
“I don’t know, I think they’ll probably put me at backup to start,” Kyle said modestly. “But who knows? So did you guys tailgate?”
“Yeah,” Michael replied. “I learned how to grill better.”
“That’s good. Good life skill. Where’s Dylan?”
“Um . . .” There it was. The guilty feeling again. Maria made a face. “He’s at home. He’s got sick. I still feel really guilty about not being there with him, so . . .”
“How’s life down on the sideline?” Michael asked before she could start feeling too guilty again.
“Dude, it’s awesome,” Kyle raved. “It’s pretty hectic, though. Actually, uh . . . I’ve been droppin’ your name a few times. The assistant offensive coordinator wants to meet with you.”
“The assistant offensive coordinator?” Michael didn’t seem very impressed.
“Hey, it’s a start,” Kyle said. “Come on down there, man. He says he’ll squeeze you in before the next quarter.”
Michael looked at Maria, then back up at Kyle. “Just me?”
“Well . . . it’s not like they can let everyone down there,” Kyle said apologetically. “Sorry, Maria.”
“No, it’s okay.” That made sense. She wasn’t a cheerleader, and she wasn’t even a student. She was just . . . a casual fan. A casual fan who was only a fan because her boyfriend was going to be a player. Oh, well. It was what it was.
“Well, I don’t wanna just leave you here,” Michael said. “I’d feel . . .” He trailed off, rolling his eyes at himself. “Guilty.”
“Just go,” she urged. “I’m fine here. I won’t even move. You should go meet this guy.”
Still, he looked reluctant, but he was giving in. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, go.” There was no way she was going to tell him to stay here with her, not when he had a chance to get his foot in the door. It was too important.
“Let’s go, man,” Kyle said, already heading back down.
Michael sighed, setting his drink down. “I’ll be right back,” he promised, kissing her cheek as he followed his friend.
Yeah, she thought, letting her supportive smile fade. No, you won’t.
It was fine. Really. She knew it must have taken a long time to get down to the sideline, and then an even longer time to find this assistant coach and actually strike up a conversation with him. She knew it wasn’t Michael’s fault that he was gone for the entire third quarter. That was just the way it was.
The second half of the game was far less interesting for her. Penalties were called, and she had no one to explain them to her. Plays were run, and they happened so fast that she couldn’t even make sense of them. She gathered that the White team was still playing better, though, and the score showed that they were still winning. So, yep, she was definitely losing that bet.
Halfway through the fourth quarter, she was starting to feel ready to go. Her back felt sore from sitting there for so long, and she was starting to feel like she was getting a sunburn. The people in the student section were still having a grand old time, though, and the cheerleaders were still cheering. They all still belonged there.
It was weird, but . . . without Michael sitting next to her, she worried that it was painfully obvious that she didn’t belong. Maybe even a new shirt couldn’t hide that fact.
He finally got back with only about five minutes left in the fourth quarter, all apologies. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know it was gonna take that long.”
“It’s okay,” she assured him.
“First we talked to the assistant guy, and then we talked to another guy, and then this other guy came along. I didn’t get to meet the head coach, though, obviously, but . . .” He shrugged.
“Well, it sounds like you met some people, so that’s good,” she said.
“Yeah. And the White team’s gonna win, so that’s even better.” He smirked and wriggled his eyebrows.
“You perv,” she teased.
“You know it. Want anything else to eat?”
“Actually . . .” She twisted her torso to the side, trying to stretch out. “Do you think maybe we should just go? Try to beat the crowd?” A lot of people were already leaving.
“Oh, shit, I just got back.”
“I know. But there’s only, like, five minutes left.” She really wanted to check into their hotel and maybe lie down and take a nap for a couple of hours. The lack of sleep was really starting to catch up to her.
“Yeah, alright, we can go,” he said, but before he got up, he grabbed her hand and looked her right in the eye. “You sure you’re not mad at me for goin’ down there?”
“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s fine.” And that was true. How could she be mad that he was getting a head-start on his future? No, she wasn’t mad. Not mad at all. Just a little sad. She wished she could have gone with him.
TBC . . .
-April
