The Last Incubus: Chapter 04
Chapter 4: Unexpected results.
"For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked." ~ Proverbs 73 v. 3
*****
After leaving the cafeteria, the cold air helped me to gather my thoughts. What's wrong with me? For someone who's smart enough to get good grades in school, I'm a complete idiot around girls. Bailie was right there. I saw the tears in her eyes just before she hugged me. I could feel her emotion, and I just wanted to hold her, comfort her, protect her . . . kiss her.
When she told me her story, I felt bad for her. What an awful life she'd had. If losing her mother at an early age wasn't bad enough, it sounded like her stepfather was hell to live with. Then having to work as a waitress in a place that underappreciated her must have felt humiliating, especially in front of her classmates. Maybe that's why no one wanted to partner with her in Forensics class.
When I offered her my old laptop, I first thought it was out of pity. But thinking about it now, I know it was more than that. Working with her in class, I saw how clever and talented she was - and that was with limited study time and without a working laptop.
"I manage,"
she said. Living under those conditions requires a strong will and limitless determination. I admired her for that. Maybe that's why I wanted to kiss her.
But what stopped me? Was I afraid? Afraid of what? That she'd scream and run away? That seemed silly, but maybe I was afraid because I didn't know what to expect. Or maybe I was afraid I'd hurt her . . . or was I more afraid that she'd hurt me? What if I tried to kiss her and she rejected me? Could I handle that? What if, in her eyes, kissing her made me no better than those two hockey creeps, Gil and Darryl?
How do other guys do this? Do they just follow their emotions and worry about the consequences afterwards? Maybe I'm overthinking all of this, I mean we're only talking about a kiss, right? But a kiss could mean different things to different people. It could mean a lot of things. Why was this so complicated? . . . Because I was an idiot, that's why.
I had been walking for ten minutes before I realized I was going in the wrong direction. I quickly retraced my steps and headed back towards the library. It was Tuesday and I had no afternoon classes. I needed this time to catch up on the massive amount of reading from the beginning of the semester and to work on the current material.
I found a quiet cubicle in the back of the library near the stacks and settled in for some serious studying. At quarter to four I remembered Tripp's invitation to work out with him and decided to take him up on the offer. I found him in the weight room working out with the other wrestlers. He looked happy to see me.
"Hey, Ross! Glad you could make it. Let me introduce you to the guys and show you around."
After all the introductions and a quick tour of the facilities, we did some serious weight training. The wrestling team paired off in twos and my presence made the numbers even. Tripp and I spotted each other on free weights and worked on a circuit alternating upper body, lower body, and core muscle groups. We were still completing the circuit when Tripp's teammates interrupted us.
"Hey Tripp. Better finish it up, it's almost 5." That was Bill, the team captain.
"Almost done, then I'll spot you," I puffed, just starting my third set of squats.
"Ah, Ross, I think I'm going to skip my third set," Tripp replied.
"Three. Come on, it's the last one. You can do this. Four," I panted.
"That's okay. It's nearly 5 o'clock," Tripp replied nervously.
"Seven. Why? What happens at 5? Eight," I asked.
"The hockey team uses the room then," he replied, looking at the clock.
"Two more. Eleven," I panted.
"Hurry!" Tripp urged.
"Twelve. There!" I gasped, putting the barbells down.
Suddenly, the room was filled with a lot of shouting. The hockey team had arrived.
"Well, if it isn't 'Burnt toast'! What are you still doing here?"
I looked up and saw Gil Dubois coming towards us. Behind him was Darryl and the rest of the hockey team.
"Fuckin' Gil,"
Tripp muttered under his breath.
I stood beside Tripp. The hockey players were between us and the exit.
"Oh, and look who's with him. It's that pathetic loser-nerd from the diner!" Gil sneered
"At least I don't hide behind helpless waitresses!" I retorted.
"Leave it, Ross,"
Tripp whispered from the side of his mouth.
"You fuckin' bastard! I'll show you who's helpless!" Gil shouted as he rushed towards me. Darryl and the rest of the team was right behind him.
Suddenly I was dodging punches and kicks with Tripp trying to do the same beside me.
Shouts of "Fight! Fight!" Filled the gym as I managed to dodge a few kicks and fists while landing a couple of my own. We were badly outnumbered, and Tripp and I got the worst of it. Thankfully, it only lasted a couple of minutes.
"ALRIGHT! BREAK IT UP! WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?" the hockey coach shouted as he entered the room.
"They started it!" Gil quickly shouted, pointing at us.
Tripp and I picked ourselves up.
"Just the two of them against all of you, huh? Dubois, this is the reason you have more penalty minutes than everyone else on the team. We can't win games if we're always playing a man down," the coach remanded.
"We were just leaving," Tripp said as he pushed past the crowd of hockey players.
I went to follow, but the coach stopped me. "I haven't seen you here before. Are you new?"
"Yes, sir. I'm a transfer. I just started here yesterday," I replied. My eye was swollen, and I had a fat lip.
"We don't need any troublemakers around here. Do you read me?" the coach said angrily.
"Yes sir. I'll make sure I'm out of here before 5, sir," I replied as I pushed passed the crowd of hockey players.
"You haven't heard the last of me, loser!" Gil shouted as I was leaving.
"Drop it, Dubois," the coach shouted as I left the room.
When I caught up with Tripp, he was icing his black eye while sucking on his split lower lip.
"I'm sorry, Tripp. I had no idea."
"It's my fault. I should have said something earlier," he replied, quietly.
"It's not your fault either. How long have you been putting up with that crap? Have they always treated you like that?" I asked.
"Pretty much since I got here. I thought I left that racist shit back in Boston, but those guys are just as bad if not worse," he replied.
"Why don't you report him?"