A. Jackson - When We Met

“The Dalton Thompson? All-American, conference champion, future lottery pick—that Dalton Thompson?”

“Seriously? You, too?” I snorted with disbelief. “Please tell me you’re not riding the Dalton bandwagon like everyone else around here.”

“Honey, I’d drive that bandwagon if they’d let me. Dalton is one of those once-in-a-generation types of players. He’s got more talent in his pinkie than everyone else on the team combined. We were lucky he chose to come here to play ball. Trust me, that kid has a huge future.”

“Oh Lord. So the guy is good at basketball. Why put him on such a pedestal?”

“Dalton isn’t just a phenom on the court, he’s a good guy. Believe me, with his talent he could be a prima donna, but he seems to have a good head on his shoulders. My nephew went to his basketball clinic last summer, and let me tell you, that guy has the patience of a saint. I love my nephew, but let’s face it. Seven-year-olds can be little shits. Any guy that can tolerate a gym full of rug rats at one time is some kind of kid whisperer. Trust me. There’s probably not many other players of his stature giving up their spare time to give free basketball clinics to kids.”

I digested Chuck’s words. Grudgingly I had to agree. It was a decent thing for Dalton to do.

“Do you really not like him?” Chuck inquired.

“I don’t dislike him, per se. He’s just not my favorite person. I’m not interested in becoming part of his entourage. And I definitely don’t consider myself a basketball groupie.”

Chuck laughed. “I can’t deny he seems to do well at attracting the ladies, but from what I’ve seen here, he’s respectful.”

“Respectful, meaning he doesn’t push them out of bed without saying good-bye first?” My snarkiness continued to amuse Chuck.

“Well, I can’t speak accurately about Dalton Thompson’s bedroom behavior. All I can offer is my opinion of what I know about the guy from observing him here. I’m just saying don’t judge the guy before you really get to know him. Regardless, I think my offer to intervene was a little premature. You obviously have a handle on the situation.” He winked at me, heading toward his office.

The problem was I did already know him. Taking the chicken’s way out, I talked Amanda into trading tables with me. I could tell she was puzzled by my request, but she readily agreed. She was more than happy to have a chance to chat it up with Collin.

I dropped off the check at the table I’d taken over from Amanda. The guy handed over his credit card without even checking the bill. That was a surefire sign that a customer was ready to go. I cashed him out swiftly before heading to my table of tipsy sorority girls who were flagging me down for another round of drinks.

“Another refill, ladies?” I asked, grabbing the empty margarita pitcher.

“Woot, woot, heck yeah. Keep it flowing,” one of the girls hollered, flashing a wide smile. At least they were happy drinkers.

“Coming right up.” I left them to their not-so-private conversation about some guy who they heard had piercings in some interestingly inconspicuous places.

“Hey, Paul. Can I get another pitcher for table five?” I perched myself on one of the barstools to wait.

“Sure thing. Give me a few seconds.” He filled two shot glasses for a couple of women dressed in business suits. The lanyards around their necks indicated they worked for the university in some capacity. They clinked glasses before sucking down the contents. One of them started coughing as the whiskey burned a path down her throat, making her friend laugh while she patted her on the back. “You’ll get used to it,” she chortled. “If we’re going to play with the big boys, we need to be able to hang, or they’ll crush us.” She signaled Paul, who was putting the finishing touches on my margaritas.

“What’s up with that?” I whispered.

“Battle of the sexes. From what I gather, the school treats the men a little better than the women.”

“Shocking,” I said sarcastically. The world treated men and women differently. Why should our university be any different? Especially when it came to athletics. You could be at the highest end of the spectrum in academics, but you were still a second-class citizen when compared to big-time sports programs. “I’m surprised the president of the university doesn’t walk around with his lips stuck to the players’ asses.”

“Who says he doesn’t? You have any idea how much money the sports programs generate for the school? As harsh as that sounds, the money allows for programs at the college that might be cut otherwise,” he pointed out, sliding over to refill the ladies’ shot glasses.

I knew what he said was true, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sometimes feel like they were rubbing our noses in it. Still, I guess twenty thousand people weren’t filling an arena every few nights to see an art exhibit or a science experiment. I knew I was just being overly sensitive. Seeing Dalton two days in a row had me a little cranky.

Shaking my head, I grabbed the freshly mixed pitcher and headed back to my table of girls, who had begun chanting my name while I was gone.

“Here you go, ladies,” I said, sliding the pitcher on the table.

“You’re the best, Courtney-y-y. I seriously love you,” Misty, one of the girls, drawled as she snagged my hand. She pulled me into the booth and slung her drunken arm across my shoulders. “Don’t you guys just love Courtney? She’s so cute and sweet.” She planted a wet kiss on my check, making me blanch slightly, but I allowed it. I knew Misty from a few classes we had taken together. She was harmless. We had one of those kinds of friendships where we acted happy to see each other and always made promises to hang out, but neither of us ever took the extra step to do so.

“If I ever went gay, I’d totally want it to be with you,” she continued.

“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve heard all night, but you’d probably have a fight on your hands. I’ve been propositioned by my fair share of friends,” I said, standing.

“Aw, I get it. You’re a tease,” one of Misty’s friends declared.

“Oh, look, Cass is totally falling asleep,” another of the girls said, elbowing Cass in the arm.

“I am not. I was resting my eyeballs for a moment. They were tired of looking at you.” They all giggled when her friends pouted in response. “I’m kidding. I love you like a drunk loves to drink.”

“Gee, thanks. Why can’t you say something sweet like Misty said to Courtney?” She rolled her eyes and took another swig of the drink in her glass.

I laughed but left them to their drunken compliments.

Travis, one of the busers, snagged my attention as I walked by. “Hey, Courtney.” He was busy clearing one of my previous tables.

“Hey, Trav. How’s the band?” Travis belonged to a kick-ass band, but they would constantly fight and break up because of their tempers.

He sighed before providing the inevitable answer. “We’re on a break again. I swear to God, I feel like I’m in some fucked-up relationship with a chick, as much as we fight.”

I clucked my tongue sympathetically, running a rag across the surface of the table. “What is it this time?”

“Slick thinks we should all wear spandex to our shows. Ripped spandex to be exact.”

“Um, eww.”

He sighed again in defeat. “I know, right? Marcus told him he was high as a kite. Needless to say, the conversation didn’t end well.”

“I’m sorry, Travis. They’ll work it out.” I patted him on the back as he set off with the tub of dirty dishes in hand. I used my rag to clean off the bench seat, brushing any crumbs to the floor.

“Hey,” Amanda said, sliding into the empty booth I had wiped down. I could tell she wanted something by the way she fiddled with the saltshaker. “So, you remember how grateful you were when I got you this job?”

“Yes,” I answered apprehensively, sensing I wouldn’t like where this was going.

“And how you claimed you would owe me big-time?”

“If I remember right, you said it was no big deal.”

“True, but then you insisted. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember you saying I saved your life.”

I didn’t say anything this time. Judging by the way she was laying it on thick, this was going to be a doozy.

“The way I figure it, saving someone’s life is a pretty big deal. I’m guessing it would mean that person would do anything to repay the debt.”

“You mean like chauffeur that person around every other day so she doesn’t have to walk or wait for the bus in the frigid temperatures?”

She paused. Obviously she hadn’t considered that before approaching me with whatever this big request was going to be. “No, it needs to be something bigger.”

“Spit it out, then. What do you want?”

“Go on a double date with me.”

“Are you asking me out?” I teased, placing my hands on my hips.

“You wish, sugar lips.” She laughed and ducked her head when I swung the rag at her. “I want you to go with Collin’s friend.”

“Which friend?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Dalton! Can you believe that? He’s totally into you. I know you have that crazy ‘I don’t date basketball players’ thing, but this is Dalton Thompson. If I didn’t like Collin, I’d be totally jealous.”

I was already shaking my head before she could finish her statement. “Amanda, I can’t.”

“Why not?” She stood up from the booth, glaring at me with her hands on her hips.

“Because, Amanda. You just said it yourself. I don’t date basketball players.” In all honesty, I would have said yes if she had picked any other basketball player for me to go out with.

“Is this a short person thing?”

I swatted at her. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Well, unless it’s something legitimate, you don’t have a viable excuse. Don’t make me play the ‘you owe me’ card. Just think. If you go, we’ll be even.”

I was still shaking my head, but her pitiful expression was crumbling my resolve.

“Please, Courtney. I’ll be your BFF.”

“You’re already my BFF and we’re not in grade school.”

“Say you’ll go,” she pled. “Ple-e-ease.”

I had to say yes. I’d be a complete bitch otherwise. I nodded as Amanda squealed, dragging me in for an excited hug as she jumped up and down. I was screwed.

Dalton

It was a complete stroke of genius to crash Collin’s date with Amanda. At first I’d been disappointed Courtney didn’t come back to our table, until I realized Amanda was a friend of hers. I seized the opportunity to pump her for information. When Collin and Amanda started making plans to go out, I shamelessly jumped onboard, suggesting we should double-date. This time it was Collin’s turn to kick me under the table, but I ignored him. He owed me.

The next night I swung by to pick up Collin on the way to get the girls at Amanda’s dorm. “I still can’t believe you latched on to my date. Why didn’t you just ask this chick out yourself?”

I shrugged. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Besides, I volunteered to drive, didn’t I?”

“How the hell does that make up for cock-blocking me? What is it about this girl that’s making you act like such a pussy?” He adjusted the vents in the car so the heat was directed at him.

“It’s nothing. We were friends once and now she’s acting a little weird. I figured this way she wouldn’t be able to run off without talking to me.”

“You obviously can’t hear yourself. ‘Oh, I hope she talks to me.’” He batted his eyes, making his best attempt to sound like a girl.

I couldn’t help laughing even though he was making fun of me. That still didn’t mean he didn’t get sucker punched in the arm as we pulled into the parking lot of Amanda’s dorm.

“Hey, dick. Just be a man and admit you want to tap that. Own it.” He rubbed his arm, complaining.

“Don’t worry about what I want,” I warned as we trekked through the snow toward the building.

“Take a pill, Nancy. You should be kissing my ass anyway for letting you tag along.”

I would have answered, but I spotted Courtney and Amanda walking toward us from the common area inside the building. Amanda flashed a brilliant smile at Collin. Courtney, on the other hand, glared at me. One way or another I planned on getting to the bottom of her animosity tonight. “Hey,” I greeted her.

“Hey,” she answered without looking up at me. I think the only reason she acknowledged me was because Amanda nudged her with her elbow. Things quickly became awkward as we stood facing each other with no one saying a word.