Endless Bonds

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"When do you think you'll be coming back?"

I'm in my living room, lying down on the couch with Teagan on the line. I've got three ice-packs under my back – I took a few hits from last night's football game.

She sighs. "I'm thinking when this semester ends. I want to make it back for Christmas at the very least."

I nod but she can't see it. Clearing my throat, I say, "What's your plan, Tee?"

It's been a few days since we've moved. Everyone has settled in, including Jared and Wyatt. I feel an odd sense of peace washing over me when I look up at my ceiling, noticing there's no cracks.

"I don't have a plan, Trent," she laughs, but there's no humor. It's a sad, sardonic sound. "I just need to escape from here and –"

"–Are you finally going to tell me who's the fvcker that hurt you – that knocked you up? Because I'd love to get my hands on –"

"–It takes two to tango, Trent," she says impatiently, her voice downright harsh and self-depreciating. "A lot of it is my fault, my own stupidity. But I need to get the fvck out of here for a whole different reason. It's complicated and I can't talk about it right now."

She's been saying that for the last two weeks. I've been worried about her. And I hate feeling helpless.

"Fine." My tone is clipped too. "Look...I don't know what your arrangements are going to be like, but if you need a place to stay when you come back you can room with us. I know three guys is crowded, but you could have mine or Jared's room. We'll take the couch."

And we'd be respectful. She knows it.

"Trenton, that's so sweet and considerate." A few beats pass and she doesn't say anything. "I'm actually going to stay with Elsie. She told me one of her employees is graduating so she's going to have a part-time position open by January. I'll work with her for awhile until I figure out what to do."

I scrape a hand through my stubble. "What about school? You're leaving Harvard, Tee..."

The desperation in her voice unsettles me. "I know, Trent. But I can study anywhere, right? It doesn't...I just can't be in Boston. I can't be here. I'll come back home and work for a few months. Save up and maybe head over to Montreal and go to business school there. Even Toronto."

That's a lot to take in. "Tee, I just want you to be smart about your decision. You worked your ass to get over there."

"Trent, I already had this conversation with Nat. Look, I'll explain to you what happened when I get back home, all right?"

I don't like that she's hiding things, but I'm trusting that she'll break it off when she's ready. "All right, Tee. Just promise me you're safe."

"Promise."

A familiar double knock resonates against our door. It's Tara and Cheryl. They're here for the interview. "Teagan, I can't talk right now. Tara and Cher are here."

Jared comes blazing down the hallway, swinging the door open like a lunatic. Tara shrieks and Cheryl screams. Jared guffaws.

"Crap –" Teagan freaks out. "OK. OK. I'm going."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, right?" I ask swiftly. I've been forcing her to talk to me everyday even if it's through text, just to keep her sane.

"Yes," she rushes out. "Love you. Bye."

"Love you," I mumble, but she's already hung up.

Cheryl, Jared and Tara are watching me expectantly with curious eyes. Cheryl seems to be looking at anywhere but me.

I groan as I raise myself up from my position, my stiff muscles hurting. "Teagan," I explain, waving my phone at them.

"Why did she hang up so quickly?" Tara echoes, her face puckered. "What the hell. I haven't spoken to her in forever."

I can't tell her that it's because of them. That she's afraid of having to face Tara and Cheryl with what happened to her. And I would never push Teagan to do so.

"I was wondering why you were saying 'I love you'," Jared pipes in. "By the way, I invited Oliver over too. Figured we could all eat while you guys do this."

Tara starts taking off her shoes. Cheryl follows suit. "Maybe we can facetime her later."

Not to burst Cheryl's bubble, but I also have no intentions of telling her that Teagan is probably going to reject her call.

I also find it fvcking weird that she won't look at me.

"Is something wrong?" My lips pinch together.

Tara's about to answer when she sees its directed at Cher. She shrugs her shoulders and looks at Jared. He semi-glares at me, as if to say, 'Not here, shithead'.

Cheryl freezes.

I haven't forgotten my conversation with Oliver and Jared.

The one where I stated point-blank that I have feelings for Cheryl. It's been haunting me the last few days, even kept me up at night. What the fvck am I supposed to do now?

"Make yourselves at home," I tell them when Cheryl starts unpacking things from her backpack. "Should we do this on the table, or you want to do this on the couch?"

"Do what?" Cher mutters.

"Sex," Tara pipes up helpfully as she toes off her hooker boots and trench coat. "I'm just kidding."

Sex. My eyes close for a brief second. I almost want to strangle Tara, so she'll shut up and avoid saying shit like that.

Cheryl looks like she was holding her breath. Her chest moves in with an exhale.

I'm excessively annoyed that she hasn't looked at me properly. I'm confused enough as it is. "This interview," I say through gritted teeth. "Or whatever it is you need my help with. Table or couch?"

The room seems to grow a little uncomfortable.

"I'm going to tell Oliver to go ahead and place an order at Marnie's Shack," Jared whistles out, before walking back down the hallway.

"I think the dining table will be fine," Cheryl finally, finally – hallelujah – fvcking speaks. "I have my laptop with me, and it'll be easier that way."

"Fine," I snap. "What do you guys want to drink?"

It's worth mentioning that she still hasn't looked at me.

* * *

I'm fixing us some white wine when Jared walks into the kitchen. "You want some?"

Cheryl and Tara are in the dinning area, so they can't see or hear us.

"Nah. I just asked Oliver to bring me a milkshake, and I don't want to mix." Jared runs a hand over his buzz, before taking a seat by the island. "You okay, Romeo?"

It's my turn to look at him sourly as I flourish Tara's glass. "Don't call me that."

He smiles big and leans forward so no one else hears. "I think it seems fitting. Anyways, bro, just act normal around her, okay? You look fvcking nervous – like you're constipated or something. The last thing you want is for her to get suspicious. Or for to see the hard-on you've got for her."

I calmly set the half-empty bottle of wine down. Then I proceed to reach forward and smack Jared.

"What the fvck!" But he's laughing, finding his comment way too funny.

But it's not. Because I do have a hard-on for Cheryl.

My phone vibrates and lights up with a picture of Natalie.

I smile evilly. "Hey, look! Jared, it's Natalie!" I slide open her call, press speaker, and say, "Hey, Natalie! I'm a little busy, but Jared has something he would like to tell you."

Jared's inhales sharply and I toss my phone at him. "Catch, Romeo!"

It lands in his open hands perfectly. He looks taken aback, almost ashen at the fact that my little sister is on the line and that he may have to actually talk to her now.

I grab two wine glasses and wink at him. "I'll be right back. In the meantime, don't forget to tell her how excited you are to see her in November."

Maybe that's taking it too far, but I really don't care.

"Um...Hi." Jared's shaky voice resounds in the kitchen as I leave him.

* * *

This is fvcking serious.

My eyes skim the consent form Cher has prepared and I find myself taking another swig of wine. Alcohol and drugs consumption amongst athletes – that's a touchy subject

When I raise my gaze, I find she's looking at me with this helpless, deer-caught-in-headlights kind of look. Part of me – the reasonable side– wants to say no. It's too risky. If I get caught...If this gets out, I might be risking football. Coach Harvey and the staff have a zero-tolerance policy that we all need to respect.

One look at her and I ignore the red flag waving in my mind.

"If I do this for you – answer these questions – you swear to respect the contract and make sure I remain anonymous? Because this is the kind of shit we can't have leaking out. You must promise me this won't make its way back to me, Cher. Or else I'm fvcked. I can get my scholarship and football taken away from me."

She nods hurriedly, almost eagerly. "I promise. The audios will get deleted after the report is complete and any question you don't feel comfortable answering, you don't have to. Your identity will remain anonymous. I swear, it'll never get traced back to you."

I sigh and put my name on the line, feeling an uneasiness blooming inside my stomach.

I'm doing this for her. I trust her.

I hand her back the form and take another swip of my drink. How ironic.

"Thank you, Treasure-Chest." She finally looks at me and her beautiful face breaks out in the most satisfied smile she's given me thus far.

With that smile alone, she could have asked me to sign over my soul to the devil and I might...I might just have agreed.

Fvck, did I just sign a deal with the devil?

"I have about forty questions conjured up for you, such as the kind of alcohol and drugs that are consumed, the patterns of consumption, the environmental and social factors that influence you and etcetera. I'd prefer if you answered in detail and this isn't limited to football. If you know anything about the hockey, basketball or lacrosse team, you can add on as well."

"Okay."

"Well, I'm already bored," Tara says with a false yawn. "I'm going to go watch the Stars hockey game with Jared while we wait for our food. Maybe I'll even catch a glimpse of Tyler Seguin."

"No one asked you to stay. Bye. Shoo." Cher giggles.

I take a deep breath. "Okay. Let's do this."

* * *

My head's a mess after the answers I've given Cher.

Yup, alcohol consumption is observably higher amongst the basketball team. Most football players have a higher affinity for alcohol versus weed, based on all the frat parties I've attended. I'm guilty of occasionally having a drink or two during the season's weekends. The pressure of always wanting to win and be the best in the standings can incite a few players to turn towards stronger drugs like ecstasy and Xanax to ease the pressure or simply to celebrate. Yes, I do know a few players on different teams that have gotten kicked out following a drug-testing. Strongest influences are...

We've moved over to the kitchen.

The tension seems to have eased a little bit. Everyone's sitting in chairs surrounding the island counter, except for me. There are only four seats so, playing the role of the gracious host, I eat standing up.

Although Jared also lives here, his ass is too selfish and currently parked on a chair as well.

Tara, Oliver and Jared have dug into their food with vengeance and Cher is the only one with a pensive frown on her face as she pushes her food around her plate.

On any other occasion, I'd blame the taste of the fried chicken or the fries. But I know she's being this way because of me.

It annoys me and I don't know what to do.

Partially because I'm torn between wanting to corner her and demand answers, or act like everything is cool. I opt for acting like it's all okay, because I'm scared of what'll fly out of my mouth if I corner her. Like tell her that she's got me strung so tight I want to fvck her so hard against the wall.

I'm lost in thoughts, trying hard to suppress all mental images of me fvcking Cher, when Jared startles me with a question.

Right as I'm about to take a sip of my wine.

"Dammit," I curse as the clear liquid spills all over the front of my shirt. I tipped the glass before it reached my mouth.

"Sorry, bro."

They all roast me and even Cheryl's mouth twitches in a small smirk.

"Be right back," I grumble. "Gonna go get a new shirt."

Instead of going to my room, I take a left down the hallway and into the bathroom. I've never spilled wine on myself and I'm not certain how to clean it. But I figure I should try something before throwing it in the wash, right? I think I've seen my mom do this. Not sure but maybe water will do the trick.

I whip my shirt off and wring it a few times, the sink catching a few droplets of wine.

Before I can even figure out how to fvcking proceed from here, because now I'm horny and I've ruined one of my best t-shirts, Tara barges in.

"Whoa!" she makes wide eyes through the mirror. "I actually came to pee and check up on you. Are you okay? You've been off all evening."

I release a martyr sigh, my gaze flicking heavenwards. Do I tell her? God, I want, too.

"Trent..." Tara slowly touches my bare shoulder and I turn around to face her, gulping.

The sincerity and genuine concern I see on her face undoes me and I blurt out the first thing that hits my tongue - which, maybe, isn't a good idea.

"I have feelings for Cher."

Tara's face blinks. Blinks again. And again. Then she breathes in and her eyes widen even bigger than before.

I've just told her my deepest secret, thinking I'd feel better, but my heart is fvcking beating a tattoo against my chest.

"Say something," I beg, feeling sick at her expression. "Tara."

"Okay. Um. Well, this is bad," she draws out. "Really, really bad."

My eyes narrow. "What are you not telling me?"

She visibly swallows. "How serious is this crush?"

I look at her and ask myself how much of the truth I want her to know, considering she might spill a little to Cher if I say it's fvcking massive. "I think it's like a 48-hour bug. You know. Just a silly virus."

She takes a breath and it's a mixture between relief and indigestion. "Okay. Good. Very good, Trenton."

"Why is that very good?"

"I think, um, that, in other words, you need to get over this bug like right now."

I've rarely seen Tara stutter. Speechless occasionally, but not fumbling for her words like right now.

"Okay, Tara," I say with a deep breath. "Okay."

"I-It's just that, well..." She looks me square in the eyes, her mouth scrunching in a slight cringe. "I'm pretty sure Cheryl likes someone else."

Oh.

Wow.

Oh, okay.

Well.

What the fvck? A surge of anger rips though me. "If it's Gabe, I'm going to kill him!"

"Jesus Christ, Trent! Calm down! I'm the one who likes Gabe!"

"You like Gabe? I whisper-shout, anger the bigger fella here. "Why is every fvcking girl obsessed with him?"

"Who else is obsessed with him?"

"Cheryl!" I spit out venomously.

"What?" Tara screeches, voicing rising high enough to attract outside attention. "She fvcking lied to me again? I asked her if she liked him, and she said she didn't! I've been wanting to get in his pants for –

I clamp my hand over her mouth, grabbing her neck with the other as her voice raises a few more decibels. "Tara, be quiet! They're going to hear us –"

Loud footsteps thump outside.

Oliver slams open the bathroom door, a piece of chicken in his hand and his mouth grossly full. "What is going on – whoaaa, bro. Why do you have your hands wrapped around her throat?"

Mine and Tara's unamused expressions match.

Oliver looks a little jilted as his eyes bounce between us, assessing the situation, and zeroing to my hands wrapped around Tara's slender column.

He seems to understand something that's not really there.

"I have a fvcking choking fetish that we're practicing, Oliver," Tara deadpans. "Now get the fvck out; we're busy!"

...And she slams the door on his bewildered face.

She turns back to me, shocked. "She fvcking likes him?"

"You have a choking fetish?" Even I'm caught-off guard.

"Eh, I mean, I don't mind it. If the guy's exerting the right kind of pressure, which you are right now, by the way. But you might want to remove your hands because any tighter and I won't be able to breathe –"

I let her go as if her skin burns me. "Tara, Jesus Christ. I could have gone my whole life without knowing that."

She shrugs casually, giving me big innocent eyes. "What? I like it a little rough. I can't help it. Also, you can't judge. I've heard rumors from all the sorority girls you've screwed. You're not that innocent either."

"Keep talking, sweetheart, and I'm going to shove something over your mouth to shut you up."

"Ugh. I'm totally game. Never tried gagging before but could be fun–"

I take her neck in my hands again, lightly and playfully. I start wringing it to get her to shut up. She starts laughing loudly and so do I.

"Yes!" She mock-moans with fake pleasure, her eyes rolling back. "Yes, Daddy! Give it to me! Damelo, Papi Chulo–"

The door flings open again.

This time, it's Cher.

We both stop instantly. Every ounce of laughter bleeds out of me and I feel heat creeping up my neck.

"Oliver said you were choking the life out of Tara, and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay – that everyone was alive." She raises her hand when I open my mouth to speak, twisting up her face like she's disgusted. "But, ew. Gross. I don't even want to know what's happening here."

She twirls around to walk away.

Tara is no help as she grips the counter and laughs like a five-year-old.

"Cher, hold up –"

"–Save it," she huffs angrily and storms away.

What's her damn problem?

"Yo! I told you to get over this crush," Tara chimes in helpfully when Cher can no longer hear us.

I drag a hand through my hair, frustrated.

"Tell that to my fvcking c*ck," I mutter under my breath, too low for even Tara to hear.

Seems as though it hasn't gotten the memo.

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