Perfectly Wrong

I sit straight up in my bed, drenched in sweat.

Another wet dream.

Ever since I saw this brunette with honey curls jogging across the football field to her friends, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. I’d never noticed her before two weeks ago, but now she’s everywhere. Rosemary has stolen my heart, and she doesn’t even know it. I tried talking to her last week, but she brushed me off, saying she isn’t one of those girls. Being the star quarterback, I’ve got a reputation—rumors always seem to spread faster than the truth. I’ve hooked up with a few girls on campus, and one story turned into a bigger lie. No one wants to hear the truth when the lie is more interesting. It never bothered me until Rosemary.

“Fuck.” I drag my hand down my face and reach for my phone to check the time. It’s nine-thirty on a Sunday morning, and I already have a shit ton of messages. Some are from girls who want me to come over, others from teammates, and two from my mom asking me to call her ASAP. I hover over her number, figuring I should just get it over with.

“Kale,” she picks up on the first ring. “How are you doing?”

“I’m good ma, how are you?”

“Enjoying retirement...hold on, sweetheart.” I hear her calling for my father to come wherever she is in the house. They bicker back and forth until he finally caves in and makes his way to her.

“Hey, son,” he yells. I pull the phone away from my ear and wince.

“Hey pops, how’s everything?”

“Besides your mother driving me up the wall...everything is swell.” He lets out a deep belly laugh.

“Don’t mind your father. The reason for this call is to inform you—wait, are you still driving home for the holidays or decided to fly?”

“Driving,” I stand up and stretch. “If you want me to make pit stops along the way, then I’m flying.”

“Kale,” she sounds offended, and my father laughs. “No pit stops. Mrs. Hunt’s daughter was supposed to catch a ride with her brother, but he decided to fly at the last minute. Her daughter doesn’t like to fly, so Mrs. Hunt has been looking for ways to get her home for the holidays, and I told her you were driving back home...”

“Who is Mrs. Hunt? And why do you always offer my services without checking with me first? Ma, you have to stop that. What if I decided to fly?” I open the refrigerator and grab the orange juice. “Now, I have to share my jeep with a stranger for almost twelve hours.” I want to add what-if said daughter is one of my hookups who wanted more. “Mom, you’re putting me in a tight position here?”

“Mrs. Hunt moved into our neighborhood two years ago. She is a lovely lady, and her daughter is such a sweetheart. She goes to the same university as you. I know you’re leaving in three days, so Elizabeth and I wanted you two to find each other and get everything ready for the drive.”

“What’s her name?” There is no need to go back and forth with my mother on this. She had already dragged me into this, and there was no way I could get out of it.

“Oh, thank you, sweetheart. Her name is Esme Hunt, and she works in the campus library on Monday and Wednesday evenings. So, go see her tomorrow. I’m sure Elizabeth is telling her about you now as well. I can’t wait to see you on Thursday.” She squeals with excitement.

Esme Hunt? I’ve hooked up with a few girls named Esme, but I never learned their last names. Just great. My dad starts talking about football, congratulating me on last night’s win and other stuff. An hour later, I’m back in bed, ready to sleep the day away, when there’s a knock at my door. You’ve got to be kidding me. Everyone knows Sundays are mydo-not-disturbdays. I don’t like having people over or taking calls unless it’s my parents, coaches, or my best friend Tyler—and even he knows not to bother me.

The knocking gets louder and more insistent. I swing the door open, ready to yell, but stop when I see Rosemary standing there in tight workout clothes. Her black leggings fit her legs perfectly, and her sports bra shows off what I’m guessing are 36 Cs. I try to think about anything else to keep myself from getting hard.Fuck.

“Can I help you?” I clear my throat.

“May I come in?” she says breathlessly. Did she run all the way here?

“Uh, sure.” Opening the door wider, I let her in. “Is there something I can help you with?” I’m happy she is here, but confused as fuck.

“Apparently.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m the one you will be driving with on Thursday. Did your mother not tell you yet?”

“Esme?”

“That’s me.” She smiles sarcastically at me.

“I thought-”

“I go by Rosemary. Esme is just what my mom calls me.” She walks into the kitchen and opens my cabinets. “So, don’t call me that.” She pours herself a cup of apple juice and asks if I want some, but I say no. I have no idea what’s going on right now. “Let’s get a few things straight.” She kicks off her sneakers and drops onto the sofa.

“Huh?” I must be dreaming again because—she’s bugging.

“First thing, I’m not having sex with you. I don’t want you to think that because you’re taking me home, I have to repay you. I want no parts of that little Harem you have. Second, I’m not interested in getting to know you over the next three days before we leave. You stay away from me, and I will continue to stay away from you. Third, no one is to know that you’re taking me home. I hate to be the center of attention. Lastly, thank you.”

Ihaveto be dreaming. There is no way in hell this is happening right now.

“Esme,” I sigh.

“I saidyoucan call me Rosemary.”

“I like Esme better. So, this is how it’s going to go.” I take the cup of apple juice out of her hand, placing it on my coffee table. “You’re going to put back on your sneakers and leave my apartment now.”

“Exc-”

“I’m not done.” I put my finger over her lips to quiet her. “I never agreed to take you home, and this high and mighty attitude you have might be the reason I don’t even want to. If I wanted to have sex, it would have already happened. Trust me...I’m that good." I pick up her sneakers and set them in front of her as she uncrosses her legs. I watch quietly as she puts them back on. “We’ll try this again tomorrow when I come to see you.”

I walk her out of my apartment. Esme—Rosemary, whatever her name is—makes me want her even more. I’ve never been this turned on by a girl before. She’s feisty, no-nonsense, and sexy. I have to have her, and this road trip might be my chance.

I call my mother back.

“I just want you to know Mrs. Hunt lied.” I gulp the apple juice.

“What?”

“Esme is anything but a sweetheart.”

“Honey, what happened?”

“I-she-”

“Carl! He slept with the damn girl!” My mother shouts at my dad. “I knew it!”

“Ma!” I shout repeatedly, trying to get her attention.

“What?!” she snaps.

“I didn’t sleep with her.” I lay my head back against the sofa. “I didn’t.”

“So, what is the problem—ooh, you want to, but she isn’t interested.” She sings teasingly. “Serves you right. Women aren’t always going to be at your beck and call.”

“Still not it. You know what, ma? It was a bad idea to call you back. I will see you on Thursday.” I hang up, tossing the phone on the other side of the sofa. I’m no longer sleepy. I turn on the TV, and a few hours of ESPN should help me clear my head and gather my thoughts on what the hell just really happened. My phone buzzes twice.

Tyler:I’m heading to the gym in a few minutes. Are you down?

Me:Yeah, I need to let off some steam.

Tyler:Cool, I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.

Me:Question,honey curls—how much do you know about her?

Tyler:Are you still on her? Dude, give it up. She isn’t worth the headache.

Me:I just wanted to know if you knew anything about her.

Tyler:Nothing that I haven’t told you already. Now get your ass ready.

I search for Esme Hunt on Facebook, and her profile—Esme Rosemary Hunt—comes up first. I check out what I can, but most of her stuff is private, so I send her a friend request. Less than a minute later, she messages me.

Esme Hunt:Not happening. Declined.

Kale Brooks:I will see you at the library tomorrow evening, then.

Esme Hunt:Don’t.

Kale Brooks:Approve my request.

Esme Hunt:I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.

Her profile picture reverts to the default, and I can no longer look her up. She blocked me.

Damn her.