I'm just another bastard, I guess. But I don't want to be. Maybe there is a good guy inside me, a guy who can be worthy of a woman like Carrie. But when is that guy going to come out? When am I going to be able to move past the mental fuckeduppedness and become that man, and not the overgrown, horny boy I am now?
Too late for Carrie, that's for sure. I don't want to hurt her. She's too special. If I can't be a good enough man for her, there's no reason for me to string her along. Next time, after we get together again, I'll make my move. I’ll give her the Hart Attack and then break it off. Sure, it'll hurt in the short term, but it’ll be better for both of us in the end.
I walk over to my bike and climb on. Riding home, I only wish I could break it off with Carrie faster—save her the pain.
You mean save yourself some pain.
Fuck you, conscience. Where were you the past four years?
Still here, but you didn't listen to me before. You just pushed me away.
What the fuck was I supposed to do?
Stop being a coward, is what you need to do. Man the fuck up. Talk to Carrie. She deserves that much.
I rev my engine, and instead of going back to the apartment, I turn right, heading for the freeway. I need speed, and right now, the freeway is exactly what I need.
Chapter 10
Carrie
"No, really Mom. I have a boyfriend.”
Mom's looking at me like I'm nuts, and I guess it has been a while since I've been this excited to share the news with my parents that I'm seeing someone. Then again, when you compare Duncan and the weekend we just had to any other guy I've ever gone out on a date with . . . there's no comparison.
We made love. Oh, sure, we didn't use those words, and there wasn't any mention of the L-word between us, but hey, a girl can hope.
Mom, however, isn't so optimistic. "Honey, that's nice to hear, I guess. Who is it?"
"Duncan Hart. He's one of the guys on the football team. We kinda met that way."
"I see," Mom says, and there's movement in the background, and Dad comes into the field of view. "Vince, Carrie's seeing someone."
"Oh really?" Dad says, taking a seat next to her. They're in the living room of our house, it looks like, and Dad looks tired. He must have just gotten back from another run. "Who is it, sweetheart?"
"Duncan Hart. He's the tight end for the Bulldogs."
They both look less than pleased, and I lean back, crossing my arms. "What is it? I figured you guys would be happy for me. You know, two years without a boyfriend and all?"
"It's not that, honey," Dad says, looking over at Mom. "It's just that . . . well, he's a football player. And I think I know that name.”
"He's got a good chance of going pro next year. First round, even.”
Dad nods, then sighs. "Carrie, football players tend to be . . . well, they tend to have egos and personas that aren't exactly our style."
"You mean you think because he’s a star on the team, that he's a superstar in real life?" I shoot back, getting angry. How could my parents be upset like this? “He's a good guy. Perfect? No, but a good guy. And he's making something of himself."
"Yeah, a million-dollar contract and a trophy wife," Dad gripes, then winces. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you shouldn't have," I say, then take a deep breath. I don't want to blow up with my parents, especially over a video chat. Any time you get mad at someone over the Internet, you just end up feeling like an ass later. "Listen, I need to study. I've got a mid-term tomorrow. I need to crack the books on it. I'll talk to you later."
I hang up before they can reply, and turn away, frustrated. I don't really need to study. After my initial struggles with Organic Chemistry, I've gotten the hang of it pretty well. A lot of it is that I'm able to connect it back to my training studies, and to be honest, tutoring Duncan. Which, I think as I smile to myself, he hardly needs. He could pass that class with or without my help, but it’s nice to be able to spend time with him on what I guess we can now call study dates.
Something I look forward to more and more.
"Okay, class, you will have exactly ninety minutes to complete the test and turn it in. Please make sure you show your work on any mathematical calculations, and fill out your test papers legibly, please? I'm not going to go back to try to figure out any chicken scratches, so if I can't read it, it gets marked wrong, regardless of what you mean to say."
"Good luck," I hear whispered behind me, and I turn, surprised to see Chelsea Brown sitting there.
"What are you doing in this class?" I ask, surprised. "I've never seen you before."
"Don't let it get out, but I took this class when I was a sophomore," she whispers back. "I only pulled a 'C' though, so I was hoping to audit the course and maybe get a better grade this time. Unfortunately for me, I forgot that I have my capstone course exactly thirty minutes after this class starts, so I've been mostly just reviewing the online lectures and the notes. At least I can't get lower than a C this time!"