"You've been depressed for like two weeks now, Allyson." Camila flipped my book closed with the flick of her wrist before placing her hands on her hips.
"I haven't been depressed. I've been busy with my school work." My eyes flashed to the sticky note that marked the chapter I had been studying in my book. "My chemistry test this Friday isn't going to be easy."
Camila smacked my hand when I tried to reach for the sticky note. "Stop lying to me. You've been in your feelings since that Saturday with Daxson. You've been unusually quiet, and I'm pretty sure I've only seen you eat like three nights." She pointed one of her fingers at me. "I think there is a little more going on than you want to admit, girl."
In Camila's mind, Daxson and I had officially been a couple. She thought our break-up had left me heartbroken. In reality, Daxson and I had just agreed to be friends. All week she asked me if I wanted to talk about my feelings, but I really just wanted to study for my upcoming chemistry test and answer phone calls from my mother. My eyes flashed to the episode of The Real Housewives of Atlanta playing on the T.V. behind her.
"I haven't been in my feelings because there were never any feelings between us. We're just friends. No big deal." I shrugged as I turned my attention back to her in time to watch her analyze her nails.
After a few weeks of separation from Daxson, I found myself starting to worry about him. Why was he in therapy? What did his therapy goals have to do with hanging out with me? There were still a bunch of things I wanted to learn about him, but he had told me he was working through some stuff, so I didn't want to push him too far.
"Is that what he told you?" Camila asked.
"Yeah, he told me it wasn't going anywhere between us." I shrugged as I turned my chair to face the desk again. "So, we're friends. I don't really see what the big deal is."
Camila bent to place her elbows on my desk and rested her chin in her hands. "Do you really believe he meant what he said?"
I believed him because I knew he could have any girl he wanted. Daxson tried to let me down easy before I did something stupid, like kiss him.
"I don't have a reason to not believe him. Madison told me he doesn't usually talk to white girls, so to think he would consider dating one was stupid of me."
"You aren't stupid; you're human. It's easy to fall for something different, especially for you because you're from a small town." She pushed my shoulder with a teasing smile on her lips. "I just don't want you to think that because it didn't work out, it means you aren't good enough."
Camila tried her best to make me feel better, but the truth of the matter?
I wasn't good enough. I'd never be good enough.
I couldn't even make my own mother proud, so why did I think I could impress Daxson Winters? He had a bright future ahead of him and someone like me would hold him back. It was best for both of us if we just stayed friends.
I forced a fake smile onto my face. "Thanks."
"Hey, you're welcome, girl. Just remember I'm always here if you need me." She straightened her shoulders and pulled her phone from her pocket. "Daxson doesn't know the great girl he's missing out on."
I'm sure Daxson wasn't missing out on anything. He was living the life some people only dream ofâ fame and fortune.
Camila jumped a few times as she read something on her phone. "Oh shit! The boys beat USC in their own house. Did you watch the game?"
Camila and Madison had attended another party last night. Despite their best efforts to entice me to go, I stayed at the dorms because I wasn't prepared for another crazy night. It wasn't long after they left that my parents and Caleb called to talk about their week back home.
A few days of rain had put a halt on the harvest, which meant my father got to spend time at home with Caleb. It warmed my heart to hear Caleb so excited about something as simple as sitting on the porch and listening to the rain with my father. The smile on his chubby face gave me some comfort because I knew he wasn't completely miserable. My father rambled on about how he would have the deer feeders filled with corn and ready to hunt by Thanksgiving.
My father ended the call when the Alabama game started. I had nothing else to do, so I turned the football game on too. The score was close during the first-half, which earned Alabama a lot of criticism from the sportscasters, but Daxson became the star of the show when he reeled in a couple of passes for touchdowns at the end of the third quarter. He smiled and celebrated with his teammates like he didn't have a care in the world.
At times, it was hard for me to believe he had any trouble in his life. But I knew if you practiced it enough, a smile could hide everything.
"Yeah, it was a great game. I can't believe you missed it."
"Girl, the tequila had a hold on me. I missed a lot of things last night." Camila raised an eyebrow as she looked at me. "Did you only watch it to see Daxson?"
A sigh escaped my lips as I opened my chemistry book and flipped to the original page I was studying. "No, I watched it because I love football. I keep up with the games so when I talk to my dad, we can make bets on who's going to win each conference."
The words on the page jumbled together because I couldn't focus. I glared over my shoulder at Camila.
Camila's eyes lifted from her phone. "One day you're going to tel-" she started, but a knock at the door silenced her. Our eyes flickered in the direction of the sound.
I raised an eyebrow before looking back at her. "Who is that?"
Camila shrugged. "You know I never make plans on Sunday afternoon. I always call my parents when they get out of out of church." She wiggled her phone in the air.
My hands twisted my messy hair into a loose ponytail as I crossed the room to the door. "Right. It must be the RA doing room checks." I shoved my fingers into the warmth of my hoodie pocket.
If my mother saw me answering the door in a hoodie, she'd never let me hear the end of it. 'People judge you from your appearance. Never let them see you imperfect.' I wish I could figure out why it mattered to her so much.
I stood on my tip-toes to look through the peep hole in the door. For a split second the worry stored inside me was suspended, and surprise overtook me. My fingers fumbled along the door handle before I opened it and slipped outside. I pushed hard against his firm chest, forcing him down the hallway until we couldn't be seen from my dorm door.
Daxson reacted to the shove against his chest by dropping his strong hands to my waist. The thick material of my hoodie couldn't block the heat radiating from his hands as he spread his fingers along the small of my back. As much as I wanted to deny it, his touch was one of the many things I'd missed.
I straightened my back and pushed his hands from my waist. "What're you doing here?" I asked, sharply.
"What does it look like I'm here for, Ally?" He wore a smug look on his face.
Is he trying to play games with me? At least the boys back home knew what they wanted from a girl. Daxson made me feel as lost as a ball in high weeds.
"I'm really not sure."
Daxson chuckled before his lips twitched into a smile that seemed genuinely sweet. "I'm here to see you."
"Why?"
He lifted his hand to twirl one of my dark curls around his finger. "Because we're friends. Friends like to see each other."
I flicked his finger away from my hair and folded my arms across my chest. The amusement etched into his features angered me. Two can play at this game, Daxson. I turned my back to him and returned to my dorm.
"Why don't you hangout with your friend Jada a few doors down?"
Daxson's footsteps were soft against the floor, but I knew he followed me around the corner. As I reached for the door handle, his hand grabbed mine.
"Damn, you're in a sassy mood today."
I turned toward him and pushed my eyebrows together. "I am not in a sassy mood."
Daxson shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. His eyes scanned the hallway before finding their way back to me. "Bless your heart. You're in denial."
My eyes narrowed on him. These southern sayings were going to get him in trouble if he wasn't careful.
"You better think long and hard about the next words out of your mouth, Daxson."
Daxson grinned like a Cheshire Cat. He heeded my warning and remained silent.
My hoodie was soft beneath my fingers. "I'm honestly a little shocked. You just get back from an away game, and you show up here?"
He kept his hands in his pockets as his eyes fell to his boots. "My therapist's office is on the first floor. They moved him over here to help incoming freshman adjust to the college life. You'll find me here every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday."
"And here I thought I was special." I slipped my hands into my hoodie pocket with a teasing smile.
Daxson's warm eyes locked onto my face as a smirk played along his lips. "You're special." He glanced passed me to the doorway.
I turned to follow his eyes.
Camila leaned against the frame of the door with her arms folded across her chest. "Mmhm. He looks like an RA, alright." Her eyes assessed Daxson before she shook her head. "What is he doing here?"
Panic set in.
Camila had become one of my best-friends, but I wasn't sure what to tell her. I didn't know if he wanted everyone to know about his therapy visits. That was his secret to share. My eyes flashed to Daxson for help.
Daxson's lips curled into a bright smile as he shifted his weight to his right foot. "Allyson was just talking about being hungry, so we're going to get something to eat."
I raised an eyebrow, but tried to hide the surprise on my face with a nod.
"Yeah, you were just telling me I needed to stop being a hermit, Camila."
Camila ignored Daxson's smile as she glanced at me. "Mmhm." She wiggled her finger between us. "I'm going to be keeping an eye on you two."
Daxson chuckled as he pulled his hands from his pockets and held them up. "It's all just friendly."
Camila rolled her eyes before turning her attention to me. She held her hand up to block her mouth. "If he does anything funny, you've got my number, girl." She winked at me and glared at Daxson before slipping back inside the dorm with a click of the door.
"I didn't realize you had a bodyguard," Daxson said.
"I didn't realize you were so good at lying."
Daxson raised an eyebrow with a mischievous look in his eyes. "Who said I was lying?"
He couldn't be serious. I was an absolute mess. No make-up and dirty hair. He couldn't expect me to be ready to go out and eat. The thought of food made my stomach churn. My extra large hoodie swallowed my small frame, but when I wore it I still felt like a fat cow.
"You didn't give me time to get ready to go anywhere." I flung my hands down at my outfit.
Daxson's eyes followed my hands and shrugged. "You can wear what you have on. We aren't going anywhere fancy to eat. You could say it has a "come as you are' motto."
"But you have to at least let me get my purse and my keys."
I'd be able to get a little dry shampoo in my hair before I grabbed my stuff.
"I'm paying, so you don't need your purse, and we'll be back before it gets late. Your roommate can let you in." He tossed his head over his shoulder. "Come on."
Who in the hell did he think he was? My lips pushed together as I looked at the red dorm door. Camila would talk my ear off if I went back inside. She might even threaten to beat Daxson's ass for not keeping his plans. My hands tightened into fists when his golden eyes met mine from his spot by the door to the stairwell. He popped the door open and caught it with his foot.
I exhaled a sharp breath as I stomped over to the stairs. My eyes stayed on my feet as I passed him and headed down the stairs to the exit. He had no idea how anxious this made me. Once outside, I paced beside the door and inhaled small gulps of air. The sky was filled with various shades of grey, and in places rays of light managed to break through and touch the ground.
Daxson swung the door open. The cold metal came right to the edge of my nose. Any closer and he would have knocked me out.
He caught the edge of the door in his hand and raised an eyebrow.
"Why are you freaking out about this? Seriously, you look, uhâ" His eyes glanced down my body before coming back to my face.
My lungs tightened as I stared back into his eyes. The guilt burnt like gasoline in my stomach. "I look what?"
My ability to hold in the guilt and anxiety depended entirely on his next words.
"You look beautiful. You don't have to dress up or wear tons of make-up to impress people. You look way more comfortable in a hoodie anyway." He pushed the door to the residence hall closed.
With a soft sigh, the guilt subsided. This was Daxson in front of me. It wasn't my mother.
"Thanks. I've always loved hoodies. They swaddle you in warmth." I tilted my nose into the collar of my hood and inhaled. The fresh scent of laundry detergent filled my nostrils.
Daxson smiled at me. "Hoodies are the shit. When I was little, my family tried to go on a trip every year. My mom and dad loved to collect little things to give as gifts when we got back. Keychains and shot glasses. My siblings always wanted to get something like a toy or stuffed animal."
"You would always get a hoodie?"
He nodded as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, how'd you know?"
"I did the same thing. It's something you can keep forever. Whether you wear it, or store it as a memory to share with your kid, it's something tangible to remind you of the places you've been." I stuck my hands into my hoodie pocket and stretched it out to show him the design on it.
The royal blue color had faded from multiples times through the cold water cycle in the washer. I picked at one of the peeling pieces that remained of the Colorado flag design.
"I have one from Colorado too. My father drove us to the Rockies for a family reunion. It was all good and fun until my brother broke his leg going down the slopes. Let's just say we spent the rest of the time in the hospital. I got a hoodie out of the trip, and Demarcus got a scar." He laughed at the memory with a shake of his head as he pulled keys from his pocket.
"My trip to Colorado consisted of my mother and I at a beauty pageant." I sighed at the memory.
My mother got mad at me that trip because I drank too much water the night before the pageant. I couldn't fit into my dress the next day with all the excess water weight.
A beep of a horn caught my attention. When I lifted my eyes from the ground, a glistening black truck took up a parking space in front of me. The golden Chevy symbol set proudly on the grill of the truck. My jaw fell as I stifled a laugh.
Daxson chuckled as he passed me to open the passenger door. "What's with that face?"
"I didn't expect you to drive a truck." I slipped under his arm and stepped into the truck.
"My father gave it to me." His words were sharp as he closed the door.
I hoped he didn't take my words wrong. It was a nice truck. The leather seats were smooth beneath my fingers. CD's hung in racks clipped to the visors, a tropical air freshener dangled on the rear view mirror, and a black Nike hat set in the center of the middle console.
The entire cab was spotless except for a few flecks of dirt made their home along the floor matts. He didn't seem like a perfectionist, but it was obvious he worked hard to maintain the truck.
Damn people with their dirty shoes.
Daxson slid into the driver's seat and turned the truck on. The large engine hummed to life as he backed out of the parking spot. I stared at the Colorado flag on my hoodie. Why did I agree to go eat with him? I'd have to hide the fact I wasn't eating, or shovel it all down and deal with the painful vomiting later. My back pressed against the cool seat, and I hoped I could sink into it. If I could disappear for a second, the guilt and the fear would go away.
"You good over there? You look a little pale." Daxson flipped a knob on the dash which sent cool air rushing from the vent.
I took a few deep breaths. "I'm fine." My nails lightly traced across the leather seat. "So, where are you taking me to eat?"
If I knew what the food was, I could prepare an excuse as to why I didn't want to eat. I'm allergic. I don't like it. But I knew it wouldn't work because I'd end up shoveling it down like everything was fine only to throw it up later when I was alone.
"It's one of my favorite places to eat around here. It reminds me of a little place in my hometown. They sell pizza burgers."
I tilted my head to look at him, causing my messy ponytail to fall to one side of my head. "I haven't had a pizza burger in so long."
Nine years. That's when I last had a burger. In the summer, I would go with my father to work in the fields. The days were long and hot, but anything was better than staying home with my mother. My father would let me sit on the arm of his chair in the tractor and we would sing our favorite country music. Neither of us could carry a tune in a bucket, but we still sang at the top of our lungs. I always cherished those days with him.
For lunch, we'd always stop by Uncle Stan's little food shack right on the edge of town. Uncle Stan sold hotdogs and chips. He also made a nice grilled cheese, but his speciality was a sloppy, juicy pizza burger. People would come from miles to get one.
One day, Uncle Stan added some extra sauce to my burger, and I dropped some on my shirt. My father and I laughed about it, but when I got home my mother wouldn't let me hear the end of it. Needless to say, that was the last day I got to eat a burger or ride the tractor with my father.
"It's been a bit for me too. I come by Troy's and grab one when I'm feeling homesick." Daxson's voice broke my train of thought.
"I guess that's one of the bad things about playing football, huh? You don't get to see your family that much during the season." My hands fell to my lap.
Daxson's chin, which had started to grow some stubble, rested in his hand braced against the door. "I haven't seen my momma or my siblings in a long time." His voice cracked.
"Why don't they come to the games?"
"It's too hard on my momma to make the drive. Plus, it costs her quite a bit of gas to get here. I take time to go see them during breaks. My family knows I love them." His right hand gripped the steering wheel with a tightness that caused the muscles in his forearm to flex.
"I'm sure they do. I'm sorry they can't come see you play."
Daxson glanced at me before slowing down to put his turn signal on. He remained silent, so my eyes wandered to the window. The short drive had brought us to a small gravel parking lot on the outskirts of Tuscaloosa. The gray rock surrounded a small, square building with a triangular roof.
A row of rocks lined the bottom of the building that reminded me of a concession stand at a high school football game. An old Coca-Cola sign with Troy's written above it bounced in the wind. I slipped from the truck and closed the door. The smoky smell of a grill lingered in the air.
The small window on the building slid open in a rush. "Order number three-hundred!"
A young girl with blonde hair hopped from a truck on the other side of the parking lot and ran to the window. Her overall straps flapped in the wind as she stretched to rest her elbows on the tall counter. She took the white bag of greasy food from a pale outstretched hand.
"Thanks Troy!" She called on her way back to the truck.
Daxson slung his arm around my shoulder with a warm smile. "See, I told you it'd be really low key."
He steered me toward the small window and knocked on the glass with his knuckles. An old man with thick black glasses popped his head into the window. He shoved the glasses further onto his nose with a wrinkly finger.
"Daxson Winters? Is that you? Well hush my mouth! It's been a while since I've seen your face around here." The old man blotted sweat from his face with a paper towel.
"Yeah, big dawg. It's me. How's business been treating you?" Daxson pulled his arm from around my shoulder to lean against the long counter.
The old man shook Daxson's hand before an almost tooth-less smile spread across his face. "It's been surprisingly good since you mentioned me in that press conference at the red-and-white game last spring."
"Anything to help you out."
The man straightened his glasses as he focused on me. "Who is this with you? You don't usually bring friends."
Daxson opened his stance and motioned for me to come closer. "Oh. Troy, this is my friend, Allyson. I brought her because she appreciates the concept of southern comfort food."
I shook Troy's hand. "It's really nice to meet you, sir."
Troy disappeared from our view, but his voice continued to spill from the tiny window. "It's nice to meet you too. I'm so happy you brought her by, Daxson."
"She was hesitant at first, but I think she's happy she's here with me." Daxson glanced at me with a smirk.
I punched his shoulder in a playful gesture, but with enough force to show him my irritation. "Oh, yes. I'm so happy to be here with you, Daxson."
Daxson tilted his head to look me in the eyes. The flecks of gold swimming in his irises drew me in. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but words never came out. We looked away when we heard the ruffling of a bag.
Troy's hands reappeared in the window with a white paper sack. "Here, you guys can have these on the house."
"Oh, you don't have to do that, Troy," Daxson protested as he took it.
Troy closed the window, leaving only a sliver open to talk through. "I know I didn't have to, but I did it anyway." He shut the window completely.
Daxson straightened his shoulders and pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. He shoved it into Troy's tip bucket.
I smiled. "You know, if you had let me get my purse, I could have tipped him too. He seems like a pretty happy old man."
We settled into seats at one of the old picnic tables. The dark clouds blocked out the sun, casting a shadow on us.
"Next time, you can." He opened the sack and placed a burger in front of me.
I stared at the burger. "There's going to be a next time?"
Daxson unwrapped his burger from the plastic and took a bite from it. The pizza sauce squirted from the burger and dripped down his chin. My stomach growled in response.
Why did he make it look like a food commercial?
He cleaned his mouth with a napkin. "Only if you want there to be a next time."
My fingers unwrapped my burger without thought. I was so hungry, but if I didn't eat, I didn't have to throw up. My throat had started to burn the last few times I'd cleansed myself. It happened when my episodes became more frequent.
One bite wouldn't kill me.
Daxson had taken the time to share this place with me. It'd be like a slap in the face if I didn't at least try it. I lifted the burger from the table and took a small bite. Flavors that someone never could've imagined would be good together swirled in my mouth in the perfect mixture of goodness. It was just like the good 'ole days. The juice leaked from the burger and down my hands as I set it back on the table.
Daxson handed me a few napkins. "Pretty amazing, right?"
Bites of the burger settled in my stomach as I wiped my fingers with the napkin. I expected to feel sick as soon as I swallowed because my mother would never approve of my eating something so bad for my figure.
My eyes wandered to Daxson, who'd finished over half his burger.
"Yeah, it's as good as I remember."
Daxson pursed his lips as he finished chewing. "You haven't eaten very much." He set the last bite of his burger down.
I studied Daxson's face. Honesty was a good option.
"I'm trying to watch my figure."
He shook his head and clasped his hands on the wood table. "Seriously? If the wind picked up just a bit, I'd be scared you were going to blow away."
My mother would disagree. She thought I was spread out like a cold supper if the scale read anything over a hundred and twenty-five pounds.
"There's a lot beneath the hoodie," I joked, stretching my arms out.
Daxson wore a stern expression, serious enough that it took my breath away. He looked at me with a stare so intense, I could've sworn he looked into my soul.
"One burger isn't going to make a difference." He placed his hand on top of mine and gave it a light squeeze.
Once his gaze released me, I stared down at my burger. My mouth watered at the thought of another bite. Daxson's words comforted me. It was almost like he knew what I needed to hear without me telling him. I picked the burger up and took another bite. My mother spent so many years planning a diet to keep me at an appropriate weight, but she'd taken away so many good things in the process.
Now, I had the chance to eat what I wanted without being judged.
Daxson didn't care if I stuffed my face with the deliciousness of a pizza burger because he was doing the same thing. He tossed the last piece of his burger into his mouth and stared out at the endless fields of flooded rice around us.
I took another bite from the burger. For the first time in a while, I didn't have my mother's harsh words in my ear.
"Atta girl. Southern food at its finest." Daxson's warm voice filled the void between us.
As I swallowed the last bite of my burger, a smile spread across my lips. I just ate a whole pizza burger by myself and didn't feel guilty about it at all.
Take that, Momma.