"A-Allyson," Caleb's voice chimed as his face appeared on the FaceTime call beside my mother. "Why aren't you here? This is like the thirteenth day that you've m-miss... not been at breakfast at six."
When my parents dropped me off two weeks ago, I explained to Caleb that things would be different while I was at college. He'd rolled his eyes and made some joke about how he was smarter than he looked, but according to my mother he'd been making things difficult, although I usually took her words with a grain of salt. To her, it seemed like the definition of the word difficult was having to say anything to Caleb at all.
"I know, Caleb, but you're going to start having breakfast by yourself now. I had to go away to school, remember?" I stretched my legs beneath the compact desk and shivered from the cool air circulating the dorm room.
"Right. I r-remember that." Caleb tapped his index finger and his thumb together. "B-But I wish there was a college closer to home. I m-miss you always being here."
"I know."
I hated to leave Caleb. The guilt ate me alive most nights.
I knew my parents wouldn't take care of him like I did. My father was the best hope, but this time of the year kept him busy. Harvest season meant that dad left at sunrise and returned home after sunset.
My mother, well, she barely knew Caleb's schedule, let alone his favorite food or outfits. Oh, and Lord forbid Caleb have a tantrum. Those were the biggest embarrassment to her.
My mother's eyebrows squished together in her signature annoyed look. "Caleb, we've already told you that your sister wouldn't be home. She got accepted to the University of Alabama. She's going to make us so proud," she cooed as she waved her fingers at me with a smile.
"I'll try my hardest." I forced a smile and turned my attention back to Caleb. "I promise I'll be home for Thanksgiving. You know we have our tradition."
The thought of me coming home turned on a switch in a dark room. Caleb's eyes lit up and the tapping of his fingers slowed. He grabbed the phone from my mother. She protested, but he leaned away from her grabbing hands and centered the camera.
His freckled face filled the entire screen. "Fresh p-pecan pie. By far my favorite tradition."
A laugh escaped my lips. "Better than matching Christmas pajamas?"
"Way b-better." His crooked smile warmed my heart.
I scoffed. "Why's that? You can't match your sister?"
Caleb glanced away from the screen. "Y-You know those pajamas are always u-ug... hideous."
I giggled. "They aren't that bad."
He tapped his fingers together. "They aren't t-that good either."
I shook my head.
"Promise you'll b-be home for Thanksgiving?" He asked with a few nervous blinks.
"I promise." I blinked a couple of times to hide the tears brimming along my eyelashes. "I love you, Caleb."
I couldn't be happier with my decision to attend college in Tuscaloosaâonly fifty miles away from home. It would just be a short car ride if he needed me.
"I l-love you too, Allyson." My brother tapped his fingers.
My mother shifted the phone so that it was completely focused on her. "Caleb, run on into your room and work on your drawings or something." She waved her hands at Caleb like she was chasing off a pest.
Here we go, one-on-one time with my mother.
"Are you completely settled in? Have you found a church to attend? Did you remember what I told you? Make sure you sign up for everything, get involved." She paused and tapped her nails against the dining table. "I've already seen Karen post tons of pictures of Molly. You know she's always trying to outdo you."
"It'd be nice if you'd let me just handle my own life for now," I mumbled.
"What did you say?" She asked, leaning toward the phone.
I brushed my hair behind my ear and glanced at my watch. "It's four-thirty. Shouldn't you be taking Caleb for a walk? You know this is the time we always went to check the mail."
"Oh, he'll be fine. It's hot outside anyway." She squinted and re-adjusted the pearls around her neck. "You say you can take care of yourself, but your hair is a complete rat's nest and don't get me started on your make-up, BoBo." She frowned.
A distant jingle of keys caused me to glance over my shoulder. Camila entered with a slam of the door. She must've been talking to her mother as well because she wasn't speaking English.
"I'll talk to you later." I clicked the end call button and dropped my phone onto the desk.
Camila placed her purse on the floor and stared at the mess on her side of the room. It looked like a tornado had swept through her side of the room and left mine untouched. She dug around through a few things on the floor, looking annoyed.
Camila was movie-star gorgeous; not like Legally Blonde, but like Fast and Furious gorgeousâbeautiful, badass, and all muscle from her years as the captain of her high school gymnastics team.
"Mamá, dame un minuto." Camila held the phone against her chest and turned to look at me. "Can I borrow your charger? My mom won't stop talking. She's single-handedly killed my phone battery."
I laughed and grabbed my charger from the plug in the wall. "Yeah." I bundled up the cord and held it out to her with a smile.
"I literally had to leave the library because I couldn't get her off the phone." She took the charger from me and rolled her eyes. "You know how many looks you get for being on the phone in the library?"
"I would imagine a lot."
Camila nodded as she plugged the charger into the outlet by her bed.
"Did you find any good books?"
She pointed to her purse. "I found a couple of romance novels that look pretty good. I miss my library back in Chicago. They had a way better selection." She smiled before raising her phone back to her ear. "Ahora, dime lo que hizo Carlos."
My phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from my new friend Madison.
Meet me in the lobby. I've obtained secret deets on a party tonight.
Meeting Madison at freshman orientation was one of the best things to have happened to me at college so far. She'd dropped into the seat beside me with her manicured nails and strong perfume, talking a mile a minute. She told me she was 'a swirl' because her mother was African-American and her father was white. During the whole conversation, her dimpled smile never left her face.
I got annoyed when she answered the phone in the middle of orientation. There's nothing I hated more than a person who couldn't stay off their phone during an event, but it didn't take long to realize Madison's phone call was different.
I remembered her arguing with her mother about her brother going to court and something about prison. The phone call wiped the smile clean off her face, deflating her. I struck up a conversation about some comedy special I'd seen because I'd always heard that laughter was the best medicine. It seemed to have workedâ we've been inseparable since.
Fine. I'm on my way.
After slipping on a long cardigan, I made my way to the tiny bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. The bright lights exposed all of my flaws. My dark hair was piled into a bun on my head and my eye liner was smudged because I had to go to a class at eight this morning. I blinked a few times to try and keep the tears from falling, but one escaped and rolled down my cheek.
The shame settled over my shoulders before sinking deep into the pit of my stomach. The nausea clawed at my throat, and I dropped to my knees in front of the toilet. It was too late to force the acid down. My stomach contracted in strong waves that forced everything up and out.
My fingers brushed against my lips on their way to my throat, but froze when a loud knock filled the bathroom.
"You okay in there?" Camila's voice was softer than usual and shaky. "You don't sound very good."
Her interruption kept me from emptying the shame from inside me, but I flushed the toilet anyway. My hands shook as I stumbled to brace myself in front of the sink.
I cleared my throat a few times and coughed. "Yeah, I'm great. I just had something in my throat." I washed my hands before running my index fingers beneath my eyes to clear away the dark smudges.
I brushed my teeth to wash away any evidence of my small lapse of control before taking a deep breath. When I opened the door, Camila was standing with a hand on her hip and one of her dark eyebrows arched.
"Something in your throat?" She tilted her head. "Really?"
"Yes, really. I'm fine." I slipped past her and back into the room. "Thanks for checking on me though."
"Allyson, you know if you have something going on you can tell me? I don't judge." She folded her arms across her chest and shifted her weight to her left side, keeping weight off of an old gymnastics injury.
"I know." I grabbed her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I promise when there's something going on, I'll tell you."
She squeezed my hand back and studied the smile on my face. Her brown eyes searched mine, but she wouldn't find anything.
I'd become good at hiding the truth.
"Fine, lil mama. We'll let this one slide. You doing anything tonight?" Her red stained lips pulled into a bright white smile as she released my hand.
"I'm going to meet Madison about some party. Maybe you'll wanna join?" My hands fell back to my sides, but my thumbs ran along the hem in the sleeve of my cardigan.
Camila's eyes sparkled at the mention of a party. "I haven't been dancing since my graduation party." She dropped her shoulder and did a playful shimmy.
"I didn't know you danced." I laughed and watched her straighten her shoulders.
"I have Latina blood in my veins." She placed her hands on her hips to hold back a laugh. "Of course I know how to dance. It's all about the hips."
"So, you'll be at the party later?" I grabbed the door handle right as her laughter spilled over.
"It'll depend on if Tessa wants to go." Camila clicked her tongue as she returned to her bed. "She's the boss in the relationship."
I laughed and waved my hand over my shoulder. "Well, I'll send the details then."
The door shut behind me with a quiet click. The loud chatter of voices and rap music garbled with bass filled the wide hallway with life on a Friday night. The bright flickering light overhead made the Alabama red tiles weaved into a pattern on the floor stand out. As I walked down the hallway, I found myself counting each one.
My mind raced to my brother and how he was coping with my mother. I missed him with every fiber of my being. It prompted thoughts of packing up my stuff and driving home for the weekend. If I left now, I'd make it home around the same time as my father.
I thrust my hands to my side as I turned on my heels to head back to my dorm. Suddenly, I collided with someone as solid as a brick wall.
"Oh god. I'm so sorry." My eyes stayed locked on the floor.
"You could watch where you're going," a harsh voice responded in a hurry.
"I know. I'm a bull in a china shop."
It was silent for a moment. Then a deep, warm laugh filled the air, but it was short like he wasn't sure why he was laughing. "What did you just say?"
The harshness in his voice was gone, just like that. Now, his words were like vanilla pudding, sweet in their own way but with a richness in his toneâ luxurious and warm.
"I said I'm a bull in a china shop," I repeated as I pulled my eyes from the floor to see the owner of the voice that weakened my knees.
On either side of his straight nose were two blazing golden eyes. Spiked, warm brown fringed with flecks of gold. His dark hair was shaved short above his ears and longer with curls dyed blonde along the top. His dark brows arched as he flashed two rows of pearly white teeth against his caramel-colored skin.
"You're far from clumsy. If you were on the field, it would've been a badass tackle." His smoldering eyes studied my face.
Then, it hit me. I'd seen his sharp jawline and blinding smile in interviews on T.V. This was Daxson Winters. The star receiver of the Alabama football team who'd caused a stir in the Southeastern conference since his freshman year. He'd made history during his three years at Alabama, racking up record amounts of receiving yards and leading his team to three consecutive National Championships.
Daxson caught the surprise on my face before I could hide it. He folded his arms across his chest, forcing his shoulders to loosen into a more relaxed position. "I'm sorry if I was rude earlier."
"It's fine. I was in your way." I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my mind off the flush of red coloring my face. When biting my cheek didn't work, I glanced at the numbers on the dorm doors.
Daxson shifted his weight until he was back in my view. "You don't hear those old southern sayings much anymore."
I raised my eyebrow as the curiosity grew inside my mind. "What part of the south are you from?"
"Born and raised in Mississippi. Nothing glamorous." He shrugged as he pushed the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, revealing a winding puzzle of colorful tattoos along his skin. The detailed tentacles of an octopus were the most impressive among the ink.
I tore my eyes away from the muscular definition in his arms. "I'm from Alabama, but the Mississippi state line is just a walk away from my hometown." A warm comfort swept over my body as a smile formed on my lips without any effort.
His beautiful smile returned to his face, but there was hesitation in his eyes. "Looks like we have something in common."
"You also said I had a badass tackle, which is a compliment coming from Daxson Winters. So, technically that's two things in common." I folded my arms across my chest, straightening my shoulders, but I was still small in comparison to his towering muscular frame.
"So, you do know my name." He chuckled and leaned closer to me. "I got the feeling you did, but I was waiting to hear you say it."
"My father and I watched you bring Alabama three national championships. Everyone in the state knows your name."
He waved his hand between us like he was pushing his fame off. "That might be true, but right now, I'm just happy you do."
You could tell he was used to uttering a few words and getting whatever he wanted. It didn't take long for my father's voice to fill my head. His only rule while I was a teenager was to never bring home a black guy. He said I'd regret it if I did. It was the only time he'd ever threatened me, and the first time I'd ever hated him.
But I didn't live with my father anymore.
"Why's that?" I looked back up to his face.
"I'm not really sure yet." His eyes studied me like I reminded him of someone he knew.
I didn't have time to question him further because a woman's voice penetrated the bubble that had formed around us.
"Daxson!"
He jerked his head around to make eye contact with the woman yelling his name. She strolled down the hallway, and despite calling for Daxson, her eyes were on me, arms folded and fists clenched tight. She closed the distance between us before pointing a long, dark finger at my face.
"Who the hell is this little bitch?" Her judgmental eyes left me to look at Daxson.
Daxson held his hands up and positioned his body in between the hostile lady and me. "Whoa, Jada. You need to calm down. We just bumped into each other in the hallway."
"Mmhm." She peered around him. "Stay away from our good black men, little girl." The threat in her voice sent a shiver racing down my spine.
The hatred radiating from her body was unnerving, and unnecessary. I'd never even seen this girl before. She walked away from us, but she side-eyed Daxson and I the entire time.
"I'm sorry, uhâ" he paused.
"Allyson."
"I'm sorry, Allyson. She's just a friend of mine who can be a little crazy." He glanced over his shoulder at the girl, who had disappeared inside her dorm room.
I played with the hem of my sleeve again. "It's fine. I actually have somewhere to be anyway, so I'll see you around?"
The question was a desperate attempt to let him know I hoped I would see him again. My feet moved a few steps back and carried me away from him.
He took a step after me, but a large guy with long, stringy hair stopped him in the hallway.
"Adam, move," Daxson said.
Adam yelled loudly. "Get crunk, bro. First game of the season is less than twenty-four hours away! Four in a row!"
I never looked back at Daxson to see if he was still trying to follow me. After the slam of the stairwell door and five seconds of silence, I knew I was alone.
A few deep breaths allowed me to gather my thoughts that were left in disarray. I sat at the top of the stairwell with my head in my hands. I'd never dated many boys back home because the options were limited, and the decent ones were still obsessed with sleeping around or the height of the lift on their pick-up truck. The feeling Daxson gave me in just a short conversation was something insanely new and addicting.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
Hello? Earth to southern princess. Where r u?
Madison would die when she found out I ran into Daxson Winters. She rambled non-stop about the hot players on the football team that she would sleep with if she got a chance.
Sorry. On my way. Met someone very interesting. Tell you all about it soon.
The sound of my shoes against the stairs echoed off the walls of the closed-in stairwell, but it was dull in comparison to the loud thoughts racing through my mind. My parents would have said I was disgracing the family by talking to Daxson the way I did.
But it felt so right.