Kiss King - Mickey Miller Page 0,107

about taking chances. And you say this guy is your best friend and he blows your mind in bed? My friend, sometimes you think you’ll get a second chance, another guy like that. But the truth is, there aren’t always second chances in life.”

I swallow. “Wow.”

She starts to walk away, then turns back one more time. “There are some risks in life that you can’t take. And there are others you can’t not take. If you had the chance to be with your best friend and you blow it off because you want to keep some ‘perfect’ image of him, is that a risk you can live with?”

An unsettled feeling bubbles up in my stomach. “I don’t know. He doesn’t even know where I am.”

“You can live with that?”

“I’m scared,” I say. I think hard for a moment. It’s crazy how a random stranger’s comments can sometimes change your entire outlook. Some women are a goldmine of wise information. “What if he does find me. Then what happens? We have a real relationship, date for a year, and then break up? I don’t want that.”

“Honey, you’re imagining life too hard. Sometimes, you’ve just got to live it.”

35

Grant

Weeks in April roll by, and the campus—not to mention social media everywhere in the world—seems to be on fire with the gossip and the rumors about Maya as the worldwide college porn star phenom. I try to get in contact with her over and over again but she doesn’t answer any of my calls, texts, or emails.

Maybe this scandal would have blown over on a west coast campus, but here at the supposed Harvard of the Midwest, we have a classy reputation. I take down the video on the site we uploaded it to, but it’s been reproduced so many times it’s impossible to get all of the versions down. I contacted a lawyer who has done work for the Alpha Z’s in the past, but I’ve yet to hear back from him. Maya’s brother Paul even calls me, and I’m worried he’s going to kill me but when I talk him down, explaining how much I love Maya and the general craziness of the situation, we actually become friends and he puts me in touch with her other brother Dave who has even more lawyer friends.

Turns out it’s freaking hard to get an internet video taken down once it’s up. The internet really is forever.

I want so badly to find her, to figure out how to deal with this together, but after she ignores every mode of communication from me, I can take a hint. Even though I don’t stop worrying about her.

Spring term carries on. Classes, pledge induction, and baseball.

It’s a Thursday afternoon day game when the shit finally hits the fan.

In the dugouts, in between innings our third baseman Greg Teague is joking around and pulls out his phone. He’s watching the video.

“Wow, this couple…damn. She just comes so easily. She loves how this stud rails her.”

My blood reaches a boiling point, and I raz him, angrily. “Yeah? And how would you even know what it’s like when a girl comes, Teague?”

“Good one, Taylor. Just look at her, she’s so easy. What. A. —”

I jump to my feet and grab Teague by the shirt. “Finish that sentence. I fucking dare you.”

“Teague! Taylor! What the hell is going on?” We hear Coach Santorello’s voice from the other end of the bench.

Teague starts up again. “Oh, come on, Coach, don’t act like you haven’t heard the rumor about Greene State’s biggest—”

I don’t know which word Teague’s going to use to finish the sentence. I don’t care to know.

And we’ll never know, because I knock him in the face so hard, he’s got to leave the game and head to the trainer.

I’m kicked out of the dugout too.

After the game, I get a stern talk in the head coach’s office about team spirit, suspensions, blah, blah, blah. Normally, I would care more, but Coach Johnson still hasn’t put me in the starting lineup, and I’m hanging onto the team by a thread.

Coach J lectures me in his office. “Taylor, what’s gotten into you? You’re usually so damn calm. You’re the one breaking up fights, not startin’ ’em. Get ahold of yourself.”

I leave and head out of the athletic building to the Alpha Z house, where I’ll be living next year and delving into my psychology major. Hell, as much as I love baseball, maybe it isn’t for me. Or maybe I should transfer.