Page 2 of Jocked Up

“Drake?” I breathed his name, drawing his eyes to my lips as I spoke.

“Bethany?” He grinned a grin of conquest, certain of himself now. Sure he’d bagged me.

“If there were two men left on earth and the choice was between you and a man that lived in a barn full of cow shit and he took a bath in said shit daily, I’d still pick him over you.” With a flick of the button, I turned to leave once more, triumphant as his face fell and his mask of certainty slipped.

“Wait!” He called out again.

“What Drake? Was that not plain enough for you?” I said, turning back again.

“I want to see you. No games, seriously, just to catch up. Agree or I’ll tell Amelia what happened between us when we were kids.” He at least had the good grace to look a tad ashamed of himself.

“Oh, you are childish Drake! Seriously?” I looked at him, stunned. An angry little boy not getting his way and now he was resorting to blackmail to get what he wanted. “Your toy tried to escape so now you’re going to kick it?”

“If that’s what it takes, then yes. Just one date, Bethany, please.” He looked away from me.

“Fine.” A split second decision. Amelia didn’t know what had happened between us. I’d prefer to keep it that way and he seemed to know that.

“Good. I’ll pick you up after the dedication.” His grin was back and I wanted to punch his perfect white teeth in.

“Fine.” He really wasn’t getting the idea that the word “fine” often meant quite the opposite of what he thought it did.

“I’ll get your address from Amelia.”

“Fine. Bye.” Rolling my eyes, I finally walked out of the house.

Dammit! I did not want to go out on a date with this man. He really was the last man on earth I’d ever want to spend time with. But I didn’t want that secret getting out. I drove home, arranging a sitter once I got there, and had a shower.

Looking in the mirror after I dressed I knew I’d accomplished the look I was going for, schoolmarm chic at its best. A flower print dress that came to the middle of my calves, baggy and shapeless, my hair pinned up behind my ears, minimal makeup, and practical shoes. Oh my, hot I was not!

My naturally platinum blonde hair was in its normal flat-ironed state, straight and long down my back. I looked like a nice girl, which is what I am now. I attend church regularly, volunteer at school and church, have a good reputation in town, and am often complimented on my kind brown eyes. I don’t raise women’s hackles or men’s blood pressure. I’m a nice hometown kind of girl and that’s all I ever want to be. In my youth, I wanted to be the angst-ridden writer making millions with dark novels of love and passion but now I just wanted to be able to afford to buy my son a video game and maintain our upkeep.

Drake was a reminder of the things I’d wanted to forget, my hopes and dreams, my goals that I’d let fall by the wayside. I’d gone off to college with a crushed heart, and when I came home pregnant my world had changed again. I now had someone counting on me, I couldn’t take risks, I had to settle down and make sure I was going to be able to feed my son.

Now Drake was back and as much as I told myself I hated the man, my body remembered how he’d touched me with wonder, how he’d explored every inch of my skin with a fascination and gentleness I’d never imagined he could display. I remembered how he felt inside of me and how my heart had cried with joy that night.

I wondered how I could get out of the date? I knew I couldn’t but I wanted to desperately.

Going to sit in the living room I lost myself in my memories once more, going back to the beginning of the whole mess. My mother had passed away the year before, cervical cancer that had spread to her brain and other organs, stealing her life away. Drake’s father had disappeared while on a mission in the Army and had later been reported as ‘killed in action’.

Five years after his father’s death had been reported, Drake’s mother moved him and his sister in with my father and I. Our parents had no idea of how they were about to wreak havoc on our young lives. Already depressed, hiding in black clothes and the obligatory dark room, with the even more obligatory dyed black hair, I’d looked coldly at the two All-American children brought into my home and yet I’d fallen in love with them.

Amelia, my best friend, was a light that drug me out of my darkness but Drake almost drove me back into it. My son, Peter, was my ultimate savior, and the reason I breathed. I wouldn’t let anything or anyone hurt him and Drake was already on the boy’s lips. All the kids at his pre-school knew about Drake being an NFL star, and he’d been fascinated that I used to know him. Peter couldn’t know about this date because his “hero” was a giant flaming jerk. I’d let the man raise my hopes once, I wasn’t going to let him do that with my son too.

I’d go on this date, come home, and that would be it. Never again. He’d be out of my life for good. Taking a deep breath, I shivered as I heard a deep vibrating noise come from my driveway. Oh man, he even had an awesome truck to go with those good looks. Feeling my knees want to give way I walked to the door with dread and told myself to buck up. It was one date. That was it.

Chapter Two

“You look, uh, nice.” Drake sounded doubtful of his own words as I climbed into the jacked up black truck. Why did it need such huge tires?

“What? I’m not dressed in a tiny black dress that barely covers my boobs and heels that I need a cane to actually stand up in so I just look “uh, nice?” That’s nice, thanks Drake.” I sat back in the seat, buckling myself in as he raised a blonde eyebrow and held out a box of deep red roses to me. I put them down without opening them. Flowers! I didn’t want his flowers!

He took a deep breath, let it out, then slowly backed out of the driveway of my light blue one story house on a street lined with similar shotgun houses. Living in a small southern Louisiana town I had three choices, a trailer, a shotgun house, or a mansion on stilts. As a teacher, I could afford the shotgun house with a small backyard. I was happy with my life here but I had my eye on another house not far away. For now, having neighbors that invited my son and me to crawfish boils and birthday parties was enough.

My house probably didn’t compare with what Drake lived in but I didn’t care. I looked back at the house in the side mirror and smiled. It was my home and I liked it. Drake didn’t say much as he drove and I moved to turn the radio up. At least he had country music playing. I realized it was one of my favorite singers and cranked it just a little higher. He’d been polite enough to keep it down low so we could talk but I didn’t want to talk. I hoped turning it up would give him a hint to keep quiet.

Drake gave a nod of his head when he saw what I was doing and just started to sing along. Honestly, I was floored by the performance. I loved the singer, he had a deep grainy voice that often gave me chills but there was a note in Drake’s voice as he sang that song, a longing that the artist had strived for but somehow failed to deliver. When I heard Drake singing it I finally felt the full impact. This was a man that wanted something and knew exactly what it was.

I looked out of the window as the day turned to black and lights came on, the sound of Drake’s singing filling me with a longing I wasn’t happy about. I couldn’t feel this way about him. I couldn’t help the way my eyebrow rose as he sang along with the next song. God, he could sing!