Second Chances (19 page)

After hanging up with Chris that morning, they’d talked a little more about their situation.  Yes, they were attracted to each other.  Yes, making out was a lot of fun.  Yes, the idea of Reagan dating someone else drove Allison mad with jealousy.  But beyond these few, brave admissions, they’d come up with no real conclusions.  She knew that verbally admitting these things was a big step for them both, but she wasn’t sure where that put them now.

When Allison had suggested they spend the afternoon watching Brown’s football team, Reagan had been tempted to ask if it was a date.  She’d kept that question to herself though, knowing it would only lead to another confrontation. 

She desperately needed to talk to her roommate.  Ashley was good at these things.  She’d know if it was a date.  She’d have to sneak off to the bathroom later to call her.

“Popcorn?” Reagan tilted the small paper bag in Allison’s direction.

“No thanks.”

Reagan shook the bag’s contents.  “I don’t have cooties.”

“If I thought you had cooties, I wouldn’t have shoved my tongue down your throat this morning.”

Reagan violently coughed, drawing stares of concern from the people seated around her.  “I can’t believe you said that,” she wheezed.  She wiped at her eyes, which had watered up from choking on a nearly fatal popcorn kernel.

Allison looked smug, but didn’t say another word.

+++++

“I need your help.” Reagan stood outside the field house and the public bathrooms at the football stadium.  She cupped her hand around the base of her phone.

“Did you fall down a well?” came her roommate’s response.  “I keep telling you to watch where you’re walking.”

“Allison and I stayed at a hotel last night.”

“Oh no,” Ashley bemoaned.  “She’s turning you into a Call Girl.  I knew that girl was no good.  Don’t let her pimp you out, Prez.  Just remember – you say who, you say when, you say how much.”

“Why can’t you ever be serious just once?” Reagan stomped her foot.

“Because I’ve seen the alternative, and it’s not a happy life.”

“If I go back to the hotel with her tonight,” Reagan worried out loud, “I think we might have sex.”

“Is that something you want? Is she pressuring you? Do you need me to come pick you up? God,” Ashley complained, “I feel like an overprotective mom.”

“I don’t know what I want.  I’m worried if we do this thing, if we sleep together, it’s going to ruin everything we’ve been working to build together.  I could see myself being more than friends with her, but I don’t know where her head is at.  What if she’s just using me for my body?”  God, she never thought she’d
ever
be asking that question.  Especially not about Allison Hoge.

“These are all good questions,” Ashley acknowledged, “but you should be asking Allison, not me.”

Reagan ran a hand roughly through her bangs. “I know,” she grunted. “Thanks for listening to me vent, Ash.”

“No problem.  Your life keeps me young.”

Allison smiled when she saw Reagan maneuver back up the bleachers and reclaim her seat.  “Hey you,” she greeted.  “I was starting to worry you fell in.”

“Or ran away with my high school friends?”

Allison’s face darkened.  That thought had never crossed her mind, but she was sure Reagan probably thought about that memory every day.  She cleared her throat.  She didn’t want them to fight.  She wanted to continue having a light, easy day.  She needed it after the heaviness of their conversation that morning.  “I’m sorry, Rea,” she apologized, looking properly shamed.

Reagan tersely shook herself.  “No. 
I’m
sorry.  I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s okay.  I deserve it.”  Allison’s shoulders slumped and she tried to get back into the game.  She secretly loved football.  Besides the popularity, it was one of the biggest things she missed about not being a cheerleader anymore. 

She looked away from the playing field when she felt Reagan tug her hand into her lap.  Reagan’s face revealed her anxiety.  “Is this okay?”

Allison looked down to Reagan’s lap where their fingers were currently intertwined. She licked her lips and nodded.
It was more than okay.

“Fall break is coming up.” 

“Mhmm.” Reagan remained focused on the playing field.  She was worried that if she looked away, she’d lose track of what was going on.  Or worse, that she’d get lost in Allison’s hazel stare.

“Are you going home?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Reagan said.  “I usually save my dad’s money and go back for Thanksgiving.  It’s my favorite holiday.”  She scrunched up her nose when a Brown player took a particularly vicious hit.  She didn’t understand why anyone would voluntarily play football. 

“Even if it’s an annual turkey genocide?”

Allison’s words were enough to pull Reagan from the carnage down on the field.  “One vegan pizza and now you’re protesting the ritual slaughter of innocent animals?” She quirked an eyebrow. “Am I converting you?”

In more ways than one. 
“Hardly.” Allison rolled her eyes.  “I’m just surprised, that’s all.”

“Thanksgiving’s about more than food, you know. But I do have to admit to a particular weakness for cranberry sauce.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Something about Allison’s tone and the way her hazel eyes seemed to darken even under the early afternoon sun made Reagan’s stomach twist.  “Are we going back to the hotel after this?”

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Lies.
It was all Allison could think about.

+++++

Brown lost the game, but if prompted, Allison wouldn’t have been able to recall the final score.  For most of the second half, her mind was preoccupied instead with the feeling of Reagan’s hand enclosed around her own.  The simple gesture and the heat of Reagan’s thigh were the only things she could focus on.  She wasn’t uncomfortable openly holding hands in the stands.  She didn’t really care what the people at Brown thought of her – after the current semester came to a close she was only there for another semester until graduation. 

Every time she thought she was getting immune to the handhold, Reagan would shift on the bleachers and their enjoined hands would touch a new part of her lap or thigh.  At one point Reagan had absently stroked her thumb against Allison’s palm, and she thought she might combust right there in the stands. 

The worst part was, Reagan had no idea what this was doing to her.  Unless she had abruptly cupped her hard between her thighs, she would have had no way of knowing that even the simplicity of holding hands was making Allison melt.  She couldn’t imagine how she’d respond if they ever did more than hold hands or kiss.

Back from the game and with stomachs full of pasta and breadsticks, Reagan and Allison continued to hold hands as they lay in bed next to each other, watching late night television.  They’d untangled themselves just long enough to have dinner at a corner Italian restaurant, but as soon as the check had been paid for, their hands had found each other once again.  Far from threatening and uncomfortable, holding hands felt safe, like this kind of affection was permissible.

“What time is your train tomorrow?”

“It’s one of the earlier one,” Reagan said, her tone apologetic.  “I have a paper to finish before classes on Monday, so I have to get back earlier.”

Allison’s face scrunched. “You didn’t have to come this weekend if you had work to do, Rea.  We could have rescheduled for another weekend.”

Reagan stuck out her bottom lip. “But I wanted to see you this weekend.  I missed you.  We hardly talked all summer.”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that,” Allison sighed.  “Things were busy, but I should have made more of an effort to stay in touch.”

“No.” Reagan shook her head.  “I’m just as much to blame.  I let that internship consume me.”

Allison turned on her side, but continued holding hands with Reagan.  She was surprised their hands hadn’t gotten overly sweaty yet.  “Did you like it?  Working at the gallery?”

Reagan nodded. “I like creating my own art, but it surprised me how much I enjoyed helping curate special exhibits and plan events.”

Allison rested her weight on her elbow. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”  She was acutely aware that even though her senior year had just started, graduation would soon be upon her.  She didn’t know what she was going to do after college, and that feeling of uncertainly wasn’t something she enjoyed.

“Hardly.”  Reagan sighed.  “There’s so many things I want to do.  I can’t settle on just one.”

“But at least you’ve got multiple prospects.  If I want to do anything with my English degree I can be a journalist or a professor.”

“A professor?” Reagan cooed. “I bet you would be great at that.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, you already have the serious professor glasses.  I saw you in them last winter.  Very fetching,” Reagan giggled. 

“That’s all you’ve got?  I already own the glasses?” Allison laughed.

“Well, you’re also super intimidating; students would pay attention to avoid your wrath.
And
you look fantastic in skirts.  I’ve figured it all out for you.”  Reagan looked particularly pleased with herself. “You’re destined to be an English professor.  ” 

“Your logic baffles me, Murphy.”

Reagan traced along the fine lines of Allison’s wrist. “How does one become a professor?”

“Lots and lots of school.” Allison licked her dry lips.  She tried to stay focused on their conversation even though Reagan was doing her best to distract her.  “Probably like another six or seven years.”

“Holy cow.  Seven?  I had no idea.  No wonder all of my professors are so ancient.”

Allison nodded.  “I’ve sent in some applications to grad schools for their PhD programs in English, but I’m still not sure that’s what I want to do next year.  It’s a pretty big commitment.”

“Where have you applied to?” Reagan hadn’t given much thought to what Allison might do after graduation.  Her intended career path had her settled in New York City for life, but this was the first time she was realizing that Allison’s future profession might send her someplace else.

“Kind of all over.”

“Do you have a number one choice?”

“Stanford,” Allison said without any hesitation.  “They have a really strong program, and ever since I was a little girl I’ve wanted to go there. I think it’s a hangover from my
Saved by the Bell
fan-girl days
. 
Jessie Spano, the smartest girl at Bayside High, was obsessed with Stanford.”

“Jessie Spano,” Reagan echoed with a laugh.  “Didn’t that actress become a stripper?”

“No.” Allison shook her head.  “I think she just played one.”

“Same thing.”  Reagan looked pensive. “Stanford.  That’s in California, right?”  She let go of Allison’s hand.

Allison could practically see the gears churning in Reagan’s head.  “Columbia or NYU might not be so bad either,” she added.

“We should go to sleep.”

Allison took Reagan’s hand again, but she could tell the other girl wasn’t reciprocating. “Reagan, did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Allison pressed.

Reagan shook her head and looked more than a little melancholy.  “Don’t worry about it.  Just a little dose of reality.”

Allison wanted to say more, but her words failed her.  Instead, she rolled onto her side and turned out the light.

+++++

CHAPTER TWELVE

“This place is like frozen in time,” Allison looked around the familiar sandwich spot with its walls covered in kitschy memorabilia.

Reagan nodded.  “I think the wait staff has been the same since we were 12.  My dad used to take me here after church every Sunday.”

Allison looked up from her coffee cup and smiled politely at a girl who walked by and sat at a nearby table.  She looked vaguely familiar – they’d probably gone to high sc
hool together, but back then Allison hadn’t bothered to learn the names and faces of her graduating class unless it was advantageous to her status at the top of the social pyramid. “Should I know her?” she quietly asked while lifting her coffee cup to her lips.  “I think we went to school together.”

R
eagan swiveled her head and blatantly stared.  When she caught the attention of the girl in question, she waved with purpose.  “Oh yeah!  That’s Traci McGowen.  She looks great!”

Allison smiled cordially
over her coffee mug, but it didn’t reach the rest of her face.  “And that name should mean something to me because…”