He picked up his phone from where it was charging beside the TV, and he left.
Maybe I should have just told him and gotten it over with. It was clear to me something was already brewing between us. I thought I could fight it the last couple of times that I was over here, but the truth was I was fighting a losing battle.
I wanted him.
That was the kicker.
It wasn't that I had some kind of epiphany that I wanted Evan to be my first.
It was that Evan happened to be the first guy I found myself wanting.
I wished I hadn't been the case, but it was. There was no point telling myself I didn't. Everything about this situation was impossible. Not just because Evan had such a bad reputation-which I realized now was well founded in gospel truth. It also wasn't on account of my still being a virgin at twenty-one. A big part of my hesitation had to do with one glaring fact. Evan was my patient. Dr. Jeffries would likely kick me out of this program without batting an eyelash if he found out.
Did I really want to go all the way with Evan?
My traitorous body said yes.
Was he worth it?
My head said no, but my heart did a weird flip inside my chest the same time.
I could almost kiss Kristy just then. She sent me a quick text to let me know she was back at the dorm. I replied that I was on my way. Grabbing my bag, I left. Before starting my car, I sent Evan a text to thank him, and told him I'd see him tomorrow. I drove off before he replied, and didn't dare look at my phone when I got in. I also didn't say a word of what had happened to Kristy. I stuck my head in my coursework for the rest of the evening, then I went to bed.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
I was petrified.
12
Evan
I saw Samantha's text after she left, and got Pat to send one of his bodyguards to hang out outside her place. After dinner, Chad, Pat, Tre, Mo and Slade set up in the games room. They were playing cards by the time my second dose of meds were wearing off. I wasn't ready to sit for three to four hours straight, so I relaxed with my feet propped up on the sofa. Clive was around, playing or texting on his phone. Eventually I told them what I'd found out.
"Are you fucking serious?"
"A chick our age?"
I looked at my buddies and shrugged. "I'm only telling you what my gut's saying … and she may have kind of admitted it too. Yeah, she's a virgin."
"And you're sure she's not a lesbian?"
"She's not. Trust me." I checked my phone for the time. "Hey, can one of you get my ice pack from the freezer? And a beer."
Slade got to his feet. "I'll get it," he said, offering me his cards. "Play my hand if they get to me, would you?"
I was on the couch with my leg propped up. "Uh. Sure," I said, smiling as I got up. "I don't have to work too hard to lose your money."
"Don't even go there."
"You've gotta ask yourself one question, Slade. Are you feeling lucky?"
Slade chuckled out a laugh. "With a groin injury and a virgin working on your recovery, maybe you need to be asking yourself that question."
"Dude, I was born lucky."
"If by lucky you mean a mean, smug son of a bitch, then sure, I agree."
"Are you not fucking entertained?"
"Just because you've always been a dick don't make it right, son."
"Want to know why I'm this way? Because it feels so damn good."
Slade shook his head and smiled before heading to the kitchen. "Yeah well, I don't give a fuck. Maybe just pause the game, guys. That's real money we're playing with."
The rest of the guys at the table nodded, but Pat played his hand anyway. Chad slowed the game down by studying his cards, probably for Slade's benefit.
"So what's the plan, Evan?" Mo asked.
"What plan are we talking about?"
Tre reached his hand on my shoulder from his seat next to mine. "Son, he wants to know if you're gonna fuck her."
"What the fuck kind of dumb question is that? Of course I'm going to … eventually."
"Just be glad she's not Italian with a mob boss for a father," Pat said.
"Why?"
"She'd be locked up in her room until she's twenty-one."
"Samantha is twenty-one."
He returned to his cards. "Oh. Then I got nothing."
I grinned. "Well I got something for Samantha. Her virginity is a condition." I grabbed my junk. "And my dick is the cure."
Mo put his cards face down on the table and shook his head. "That's a bad idea, Evan."
I turned to him. "Yeah? Why?"
"She's got … complications … with that sicko tennis player."
Pat was interested again all of a sudden. "Which tennis player are we talking about?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "Some rich stalker-in-training douchebag. His dad gave the athletics department a shitload of money, and now the kid thinks he's hot shit around town. I think his name is Austin or something."
Chad's head whipped up from his cards, then Pat leaned forward. "Austin Grant?" Chad and Pat asked in unison.
I nodded.
"I wouldn't get involved if I were you," Chad said.
"For once, I agree with pretty boy," Pat agreed.
"What, you too?" I asked. "You never back away from a fight. Why wouldn't you step in?"
"Austin Grant and his family are mobbed up, my friend. The term is ‘sotto protezione' … under protection. It means I can't touch him."
"Maybe you can't, but I sure can … if it comes down to it."
"I can too," Mo added.
Clive looked up from his phone. "I got your back, brother."
Pat wagged a finger at us all. "The hell you can."
"And who's gonna stop me?" I asked.
"Life is hard enough, bud, but you'll make it harder when you say stupid shit like that."
"So you're telling me this Austin dipshit can keep harassing anyone he wants, Samantha included?"
"No. I'm saying if you want to solve a problem as big as Austin Grant, you have to work smart."
"So I guess this ain't a good time to tell you … "
"Tell me what?"
I scratched my head and looked away. "Austin Grant is the guy your goon may have to fend off outside Samantha's dorm."
"Hmmm. That should be okay. My guys are smart enough to de-escalate a situation like that without violence … most of the time they're cleaning up after me when I'm violent."
"Yeah I noticed. So, tell me Pat, how exactly would you fix it?" I stressed the nickname most of us at the frat house called him because I knew it got under his skin.
"It's Pappa Thumbs, son. If you want my help, then you've got to come to me with respect."
"You want me to kiss you ring or some shit like that? Yeah, whatever Pat."
He glowered at me, lips formed in a tight, straight line. "This Pat bullshit is getting real old."
"Well, I sure as fuck ain't calling you Pappa Thumbs. What the hell do you have against your real name? Franko Salvatore is not that bad."
"True, but I prefer Pappa Thumbs. Chicks love it. It's mysterious, you know?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Dangerous."
"No. It ain't. It's dumb. You want a dangerous nickname? Try something like Cock-eyed Mike, Tiny, Ice Pick, Big Shanks, Pistol Finger, or Jimmy Shoes."
He shrugged. "Those are all taken. Plus, Pappa Thumbs is original … and just in case you didn't already know this, your attitude stinks right to hell, Evan."
"Do I look like I care that you don't like my attitude?"
"All I'm saying is it's pretty bad."
"Not as bad as your shitty nickname."
"Fuck you too," he said, smiling.
Slade came back with the ice pack and some beers. I passed him his cards back, happy to return to the sofa to relax.
"What do you suggest we do about Austin Grant, Pat?" I asked. Pat gave me a grim look, so I added, "Shit, okay. What do you suggest, Franko Salvatore?"
"I'll ask my dad's consigliere and get back to you on that."
Tre looked over at me. "Man, you got your priorities out of whack. I want to know what you're gonna do about the hot brunette … the virgin … who also happens to be working in the neighborhood of your poor, injured boomstick."
"Of course you are. That's because you ain't gonna find a virgin at the strip club, Tre. Anyway, my plan for Samantha is simple. I'll get her … on my terms. She wants to play with me? She'll have to beg for it."
"Ouch, bro. That's kinda dumb, don't you think? I mean, she's twenty-one and hasn't let anyone score with her yet. What makes you think you have what it takes?"
"Have you ever heard the saying that the greatest trick the Devil pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist?"
Chad played his hand and grunted. "Oh … you're gonna be that guy. Don't be that guy, Evan. It won't end well for you … or your boomstick."