Another New Life Read online

  I survived the rest of the night without having to tell Troy about my past, but I couldn't help feel like I was delaying the inevitable.

  A few days later, the girls and I sat in the quad wasting time until our next class when the subject of first dates came up. I created an amusing fictitious first date story involving a college student, the Bainbridge Island Ferry, and myself.

  You know those moments when you're around a group of people talking about a topic everyone should have experienced and your intention was to tell a little lie in order to feel like part of the group. Then, you remember you told one person in the group the truth. This was one of those times. Darcy chimed in and beat me to it. She told my truth.

  "You guys. We should take Miranda on a date. She's never been on one."

  "OMG, you've never been on a date," Becca said.

  Brooke nudged her.

  It wouldn't have been so bad if Troy hadn't joined us at the exact moment Becca asked, "How do you go eighteen years without going on a date?"

  I willed Brooke to smack her again to get her to shut up. I would have done it myself, but I was too far away.

  "Who's never been on a date?" Troy asked as he sat down next to me and kissed the back of my neck. For some reason, his kiss distracted me enough; I told the truth.

  "I haven't," I said, "been on an actual date."

  "Really?"

  I looked up at Troy, expecting to the see confusion. How else are you supposed to act when you discover your girlfriend's a freak? I didn't see it. I saw the wheels of his braining turning.

  "We've got to do something about that." He brushed his lips against mine. "How about tonight?"

  "How cute," Darcy said. "Troy's going to be your first date."

  "I don't recall saying yes."

  Troy took my hand and got down on one knee.

  "Miranda Preston, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me tonight?" I look down at Troy as he waited for my answer. I looked around at the girls who I swear all had misty eyes and were swooning at Troy's romantic gesture.

  "Okay." I leaned over and kissed him. "But can we keep the corny gestures to a minimum?"

  "I'm not making any promises," Troy said, and laughed as he kissed me back. "I'll pick you up at seven."

  ***

  Six days ago, I had watched as Darcy prepared for her date. She had it down to a ritual: clothes, hair, makeup, and repeat until satisfied. Darcy had effortless beauty, but it didn't prevent her from stressing and fussing for an hour to make sure her hair and makeup were flawless. I didn't understand what the big deal was then. Now, I get it.

  "What did he say again?" Darcy asked for the third time.

  "It's on my phone, read it for yourself. Wear something sexy, but comfortable?"

  "What does that even mean? Sexy isn't comfortable." Darcy held up every dress I owned in front of a mirror and vetoed them all.

  "Why do I have to wear a dress anyway?" I asked.

  "It's a southern thing. Trust me," Darcy said.

  She was dead serious.

  "Okay, but I'm wearing leggings, too."

  Darcy gave up on my closet and went to hers.

  "You know, it's also bad manners to ask someone out on a date on the same day."

  "Wait." I turned to her. "Robert asked you out on the same day."

  "Yeah, well, I didn't say it was a hard and fast rule." She smiled.

  "We are getting this over with tonight. I'd much rather stress over it for hours instead of days."

  "Get it over with; come on, Randa, this is supposed to be fun." Darcy pulled a dark blue halter dress from the back of her closet. "Try this one."

  The anxiety from my pending date seemed to overshadow any modesty I might have had. I stripped off my shirt and pulled the dress over my head. On Darcy, the dress would have hit her knee. On me, it flowed down to mid thigh and flared a little, but not too girly. I twirled before I could stop myself.

  "Here, try this." Darcy handed me a thin, gauzy black thing. It would have been a cardigan with more material. It gave the illusion of covering my shoulders and back.

  I refused to let Darcy do my makeup, but she made me put on more mascara and use lipstick rather than my usual lip-gloss. My hair hung loose. It had developed a slight wave in the Texas weather, and I liked it.

  I turned to Darcy. "Well?"

  "You look gorgeous." Again with the teary eyes. What was with this girl?

  I checked myself out in the full-length mirror. Sexy and comfortable, mission accomplished. I couldn't wait for Troy to see me.

  A knock on the door surprised both of us. Unless you lived in San Jac, you couldn't enter the dorm unannounced. I opened the door, and there Troy stood with a bouquet in his hand of blue, yellow, and pink tulips. So much for toning down the romance.

  We stood in the door, looking each other up and down. I took in the outline of Troy's muscular chest and arms through the snug-fitting, long-sleeved blue shirt. His black jeans sat low on his waist. I stopped my head from dipping further and went back up to look at his shaggy hair, which had turned into a soft wave, and I suppressed the urge to run my fingers through it.

  "Wow, baby, you look amazing," Troy said. He started to hand me the flowers, but changed his mind. His free hand grabbed mine and he pulled me close, placing the softest, sweetest kiss on my lips.

  "God, you're beautiful," he whispered, and kissed me again.

  "I thought the kiss happened after the first date," Darcy said. We both turned; surprised to see her sitting on her bed trying to pretend she hadn't been watching us the whole time.

  ***

  When we exited the dorm, instead of walking toward the parking garage, we headed in the opposite direction.

  "Where are we going?" I asked.

  "It's a surprise."

  The sun had almost set, but I could see the silly grin creeping on Troy's face. He was up to something.

  We walked around the perimeter of the Longhorn stadium until we came to a gate with a security guard jingling a set of keys.

  "Hey, Troy."

  "Hi, Dan; this is Miranda."

  "Hi, Miranda." Dan, the security guard, had the same silly grin. "You guys have until ten when I come back and lock up for the night."

  "Okay, thanks, man." Troy shook his hand, and we walked through the gate. Dan locked it behind us and strolled away, whistling a tune I didn't recognize.

  I know I said no romantic gestures, but I didn't expect Troy to listen to me. I couldn't imagine anything romantic about a date in a football stadium.

  I had a dream the other night about Troy and I having sex in the stadium as the entire student body cheered us on. It was kind of hot and terrifying, but not romantic.

  We walked through a tunnel and up some steps. When we reached the top, the stadium floor spread out in front of us.

  "Wow."

  "I reacted the same way the first time I saw it."

  I imagined the place filled with people and it gave me goose bumps. I held Troy's hand tighter and grabbed his bicep with my other hand as he led me to the center of the field.

  "I figured on a first date we're supposed to get to know each other, right?" Troy squeezed my hand. "This is me."

  In the center of the stadium sat a blanket with a pizza and an ice cooler between the horns of the Longhorn symbol.

  "When did you think of this?" I turned around, taking it all in.

  We sat on the blanket across from each other. I opened the pizza box as Troy pulled two beers out of the cooler, opened them, and handed me one.

  "Not too romantic, huh?" Troy said.

  Hot pizza and cold beer combined with the way Troy looked at me like we were the only two people in the world even in this vast space; I couldn't think of anything more romantic.

  ***

  "So, tell me what it's like. Being a star quarterback with thousands of people cheering for you."

  "I'm not going to lie. It's a rush."

  I loved the way his eyes sparkle
d when he talked about football.

  He continued, "I don't know, I just love everything about the game. I love to win and even when I lose, it pushes me to try harder.”

  Troy stood up and jogged to the sideline to grab a couple of footballs. He came back to the spot ten yards in front of me. He palmed the ball with his right hand as he smacked it with his left. I didn’t know why my brain zoned in on the way he gripped the ball, flexing his fingers on the familiar object. I projected myself into the ball and had to shake the image out of my head and concentrate.

  "Okay, so the play starts back here. I get the signal from the sideline on what play to call." Troy stared at the sideline.

  "Do you have to call the play the coach gives you?"

  "Yes, unless I see something at the line of scrimmage once we get set; then I can change it."

  "What would you see?" I sounded like a football illiterate.

  "You see what the defense is doing, if they have eight men in the box, or if they are lined up in a formation they usually blitz from."

  I must have had a blank look on my face.

  "Don't worry, you'll understand it the more you watch."

  Troy walked forward a few yards and kneeled down on the turf.

  "So, in the huddle, I speak, you listen." Troy smiled and called out a play. "686 Pump F-Stop on two."

  He stood up and clapped and walked up to the line of scrimmage, right in front of our blanket.

  He crouched down with the ball held out in front of me. I fixated on the muscle flex in his forearm. Miranda, pay attention.

  "283, 283, hut, hut." Troy back stepped ten yards and stopped.

  He looked to the left and then passed the ball down the middle. The ball whizzed over my head and landed thirty yards down the field.

  "The ball hits David in stride, and he runs in the end zone untouched." Troy raised his hands over his head. "Touchdown."

  "Woo-hoo," I yelled and clapped.

  "That's how it's done."

  I stood up and grabbed the other ball.

  "Yeah, you look pretty good out there by yourself." I tossed the ball to Troy. "How do you do when defenders are in your face?"

  "Oh, so you're playing against me?"

  "Yeah, you got a problem with that?" I paced the line of scrimmage like the guys in the defensive backfield did on TV. I pointed at him. "What's wrong Anderson, you scared?"

  "Okay."

  Troy hiked the ball and backpedaled. I ran straight for him, but before I could get to him, he rolled out to the left and tossed the ball to the exact spot the other ball landed.

  "Lucky pass," I said.

  Troy laughed. He grabbed a few more balls from the sideline and lined up again.

  "Maybe linebacker isn't my position. I often saw myself as a cornerback. The bane of a quarterback’s existence."

  "You're so hot when you talk football."

  "Don't try to distract me, Anderson," I said as I pulled off my sweater and kicked off my shoes.

  "Who's distracting who?" Troy removed his shirt, hiked the ball, and let it go.

  Troy looked so good without a shirt on, I forgot to move. Again, the ball sailed past me and landed in the exact same spot.

  "Yeah," he yelled and then ran around the field. He even had the audacity to slap me on the ass. He grabbed another ball and got ready for the next play.

  I focused. There was no way I was going to let him complete another one. Troy hiked the ball. I turned and ran. He'd already released before he realized my new tactic. I made it there before the ball, and it landed in my hands. I think we were both surprised. Troy took off running in my direction at full speed. I needed to do something. I tried to run past him on the left, but he closed in fast. He caught me in midair, wrapped his arms around me and the ball. The momentum made us lose our balance and the turf came rushing toward me. At the last moment, Troy maneuvered, and I ended up landing on him. He took the full force of the ground on his left side.

  "Aw, shit."

  "You okay?" I asked trying to catch my breath and stop myself from laughing. At least until I made sure he was okay.

  Troy rolled me onto the turf as he tried to control his breathing and physically check to make sure I didn't have any broken bones.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," I said, but I couldn't stop myself from giggling.

  Troy rolled over on his back and let out a sigh of relief.

  "It's not funny. You could have broken a finger or something."

  "You're the one who tackled me," I said between giggles.

  "That's what you get for taunting me."

  I tried to sit up, but Troy pulled me back down and rolled on top of me, his face centimeters from mine. His breath on my lips made me shiver. I had to taste him, breathe him in. It only took a second for our breathe to sync. I felt so safe and secure in his arms. Nothing could hurt me when he held me. What I did in the past, what might happen in the future, none of it mattered. It was him and me, and the rest of the world didn't matter.

  He leaned in to kiss me and everything slowed down. The moment his lips settled on mine, their strength and softness amplified every sensation in my brain. When he pulled back, I followed him seeking full contact again. His left hand ran through my hair, and I leaned into it as I squeezed his right knee, which had settled between my legs. I ran my hand down his back. I was one hundred percent present. It was just Troy and me and... the football I had cradled in my other hand. I snorted and laughed pushing him off.

  "What's so funny?"

  "I can't believe you got intercepted by a girl."

  Before Troy could demand a rematch, I suggested we go up in the stands. We walked up to the top of the first level, near the fifty-yard line seats.

  Troy settled on the stairs, and I sat between his legs a step below. I leaned back feeling my bare back against his chest; disappointed he'd put his shirt back on.

  "Are your parents coming to the game?" I asked.

  "No. No need for them to come see me carrying a clipboard."

  "I bet they're proud of you."

  “I think they’re nervous. Hoping they didn’t screw me up to bad,” Troy said. He cleared his throat and chuckled.

  I turned to look up at Troy. I wasn't sure if he was serious or making conversation. I knew how he felt.

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "I don't know. Still not over my parents getting divorced. I guess.”

  I laced my fingers into Troy's and brought them up to my lips. I didn't know what to say, but I wanted him to keep talking.

  "I have all these expectations; most I placed on myself, but you know, I don’t want to fail. It’s a lot of pressure and a lot of responsibility. It'd be easier to be a regular guy. You know, not the future of UT football. It's weird."

  "After UT, what's supposed to happen?"

  "NFL. Win two Super Bowls, league MVP, and retire at thirty-five."

  "Money, houses, cars, women."

  "Yeah, well, one woman." He kissed the back of my neck letting his lips linger long enough for me to miss them when they left.

  "Or I could get hurt, go to law school, become an agent, and live with a lot less money, smaller house, one car."

  "Same woman," I said. Thought I'd help him out.

  "I don't want to disappoint anyone."

  "Well, you don't have to worry about disappointing me."

  "You're the one I worry about the most."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're perfect, and you deserve perfection."

  "I am so not perfect."

  "To me you are."

  Talk about the burden of someone else's expectations.

  I turned around to face Troy with some strange urge to shatter his perfect image of me.

  "Do you know why this is my first date?"

  Troy shook his head.

  "Because guys in my high school don't date girls who sleep around. They have sex with them and date the pretty, skinny blond girls."


  Troy looked confused. I decided to be more direct.

  "The guys at my school had no problem having sex with me, but they were too ashamed of me to date me."

  It took a minute for the light bulb to come on, but when it did, the look in his eyes made me wish I hadn't said anything.

  "I don't understand." But he did by the way he let go of my hand and moved up a few steps. From this vantage point, the pictorial metaphor of him looking down on me, I couldn't take. I stood up.

  "When I moved to Seattle, I had a hard time, for a long time. I didn't talk to anyone. I didn't make friends. People basically left me alone. They made fun of me when they remembered I was there, but most of the time they ignored me."

  Troy's concerned expression pushed me further.

  "One night, my parents had our neighbors over for dinner, and they made me hang out with the neighbor’s son. He was a popular guy a year ahead of me. He never talked to me in school, but that night he told me I was pretty and that I had pretty eyes, and he kissed me and we kind of didn't stop. We had sex, and when it was over he acted like he liked me for the rest of that night. Next week at school, he ignored me, but it didn't stop him from coming by my house after school. I'd let him in because even it if was for a little while, at least I wasn't being ignored anymore."

  I stared at him, waiting for him to reply.

  "Okay."

  I waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. He stared back.

  "Can you say something?" I released a heavy sigh. I wished I could read his mind. I started this, so I might as well continue. "After a few times with this guy, I guess he told his friends about me. Other guys from my school would stop by and they said the right things and looked at me the right way, and I gave them what they wanted."

  "Jeez, Miranda." He shook his head and averted his eyes.

  "After awhile, I kind of enjoyed it. You know, having this secret over the girls in my class. If they only knew what their boyfriends did behind their backs. It was powerful, using guys like that, but it was an illusion. Turns out they were using me."

  "How many guys?"

  Such a guy question to ask.

  "Eleven, well, actually ten."

  "How long did this go on?" Again with the guy questions. Troy wanted to know the facts.