Long Road To Wisdom

Houghton, MI
February 2010

There was something to be said about Michigan’s Upper Peninsula during the winter time and that thing was snow. Snow everywhere. More snow that Madison, even. The team was on an extended weekend, playing back to back against the Huskies. They’d been there two nights already and cabin fever was starting to set in.

One of the few motels in town had become their base of operations and it was the long days and easy camaraderie that had developed between Shannon and the players that had prompted her to leave her door open while she revised a plan for McNicholl’s shoulder. She shouldn’t have been surprised that she was interrupted.

“Baby Eavie, put on your dancing pants. We’re going out.” Shannon glanced at the door. A couple of the forwards were leaning in the door, looking at her expectantly. She liked the both of them: Graham and Winnick were mostly inseparable. They were also die hard engineering students and how they had time to play hockey and study she had no idea.

But they were nice. They were the nicest guys on the team to her, by far, and it wasn’t uncommon for them to invite her along when going out and about. She sighed and looked back at her work. She should finish up, but she was really just fine tuning at this point. “Come on. There’s a house party on campus. Marty’s girlfriend’s brother’s Lacrosse team is hosting.” Winnick let it out all in one breath and then grinned at her.

She doesn’t really have much to do anymore. Not without sitting down with McNicholl himself.

“Give me ten. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Graham raised an eyebrow, probably because she was giving in so easily but Winnick gave a whoop and closed the door for her. Shannon didn’t spend a whole lot of time primping. Generally speaking she could slip around college parties, keeping an eye on the guys, really easily if she didn’t dress up. Her only consideration for fashion was a v-neck shirt, almost gossamer, and a tank top beneath it. Paired with her favorite pushup bra it hinted at fantastic cleavage but was still acceptable for public consumption. She slipped on a pair of skinny jeans, her snow boots, and jammed a beanie down over her hair. She’d pulled it back into a bun while she’d worked to keep it out of the way and she hoped the hat would keep it in some semblance of order. With one last look in the mirror to make sure she was dressed like an adult, she grabbed her coat and went to join the guys.

The entirety of the hockey team was already in the lobby. The majority cheered when she appeared. She’d become the big sister, the source of female advice, the one girl who would always call them on their shit. And they appreciated her for that. She gave the guys a grin and fell into step next to one of the seniors in the kinesiology department who worked with the team.

It was cold and windy and blustery outside but that didn’t dampen the spirits of the team, many of whom were used to such weather. Shannon should have been, too, but the wind was cutting at just the right angle that she was getting an arctic blast right to the chest. She shivered and huddled deeper in her coat, cursing hockey and all cold weather activities.

They rounded the last corner leading to college town and the wind picked up. The gust that hit her almost knocked her off her feet, pushing her back a couple paces right into a solid body. She turned her face away until the air settled and when he went to thank the kind person who had caught her, the words died in her throat.

Smith.

Of course.

She could barely see his face for the hat pulled low and the scarf pulled high. He looked about as happy with the current situation as she did. She stepped away from him right as he gave her a little push to make some space between them. She stumbled and she could swear there was glee in his eyes. “Watch yourself.”

It had been six months since she’d turned him down and then benched him. Not too many days passed in her week that didn’t include snide comments from the Canadian. She just rolled her eyes at his gruff tone and hurried to catch up with the rest of the group.

The party was already in full swing when the Badgers rolled in. They went mostly unnoticed and Shannon grabbed a beer. It was shit from a keg, likely Natty Ice. But, it was free. And she just wanted the one.

One, strangely enough, turned into four because Winnick kept handing them to her between bouts of beer pong. By midnight Shannon was reminded by her unsteady gait that she’d been a saint during the school year and had kept her drinking to a minimum. She wandered the house, looking for a bathroom.

She instead found a tiny brunette held against a wall by a much taller brunette, their tongues engaged in a spirited battle of tonsil hockey. She came to an abrupt halt, her mostly full beer sloshing over her hand. It was Smith. Of course it was Smith.

It was Smith, pinning this waif of a girl to the wall with the power of his thighs and an expertly placed hand on her ass. She watched his free hand tilt the girl’s head back and something like jealousy boiled inside of her chest.

It was Smith, the virgin, the bane of her life, make this girl moan like he was the second coming of pornography. She could see the hand holding her ass shift deeper, slide higher, and the girl’s head banged back against the hard wood paneling.

Smith dipped his head, his lips and teeth exploring the soft skin under the girl’s throat.

She’d managed to mostly ignore the fact that he was disturbingly attractive over the months by reminding herself that he had the face of an angel and the body of an athlete but didn’t know how to use either. Smith had apparently gotten over those hang ups.

Shannon made a choked sound when his hand explored just a little more. He must have two fingers in the chick and the girl was fucking loving it. Her cut off gasp was loud enough that it drew his attention though. Without removing his fingers he glanced over his shoulder and found Shannon’s wide eyes staring back.

His grin was downright animalistic. He licked his lips. Shannon mirrored the action almost unconsciously. He smiled wider. Shannon turned tail and ran, her beer splashing more and covering her whole arm this time. She could swear she heard him laugh low as she vanished around a corner.

She took a minute, a hand on her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. Smith had learned some valuable life skills, apparently and he’d gotten good at them if the girl’s reaction was any indication.

“Yo, Eavie. Need another drink?” One of the Lacrosse guys, who’d been totally enamored to find out that she was Patrick Eaves’ little sister, came over with two full beers in his hands. She glanced down at her cup. She’d spilled over half of it. Without a thought about the consequences she drained her cup and took the one he was offering, draining almost half of that too.

Fuck it, she thought to herself.

It only took her a half hour to get too drunk for public. She wasn’t crazy or stripping or even singing, thank god, but she was definitely past her limit. Shannon had found a quiet corner, trying to track the movements of the other party goers if only to keep her head from spinning. She was really trying to ignore how she hadn’t found the bathroom earlier and the three drinks she’d chugged since then were not helping her bladder.

She had to find a toilet. Stat. She mentally revved herself up for standing. It was easy. She was a natural skater and didn’t fall a whole lot on the ice. She could handle two bare feet (where the hell had her boots gone?) on a hard wood floor. It was actually pretty easy to push herself up and start moving. She didn’t run into anyone and she didn’t spill anything. After muttering out a question about the location of her goal to one of the local boys, she found herself back in the same hallway as earlier.

This time it was sans Smith, thankfully, and she found the bathroom. For a Lacrosse house it wasn’t awful and she took her time. She took a moment to stand in front of the mirror and assess herself. Her hair was a mess. She’d lost her hair tie after drink five, preferring to let it hide her face. She pushed it back and winced at the bruising under her eyes.

She looked awful. Either she really needed to sleep for two whole days or she couldn’t see straight. Both were probably correct. Someone banged on the door and she wobbled a bit as she turned to leave. It took her a few tries to get the lock undone. She cursed under her breath and finally yanked the thing open.

Shannon wobbled again but put a smile on for the person on the other side. They were tall, dark haired, definitely male. “S’all yours.” She tried to get the words out as coherent but her s’s were all jumbled and running up on the other letters. Whatever. The guy heard her and stepped back. She made it to the far wall and her shoulder hit it hard.

It was easier to do this with her eyes closed, she thought. The wall was solid, at least, unlike her legs. The guy she’d passed made some comment about drunk college girls and she turned to give him a piece of her mind. She’d graduated with honors already; she was done with college and she should have remembered that before she’d come out tonight.

“Eh, go fuck yerself dude. I’m way smart.” She had to open her eyes to make sure she was cursing in the right direction. The colors in front of her eyes were way too bright, too intense. She was able to make out the guy’s face: one of the lacrosse players. She slid her eyelids shut.

The hand on her shoulder was surprising. “Not so smart, getting all fucked up like this.” Another hand slid to her waist. She sighed a little because this was actually helping her stay standing. She’d been moments away from just giving up and going to sleep right here. She grabbed on to strong shoulders, pulling herself upright just a bit more. The spinning wasn’t so bad right then.

“Ev’ry one makes mistakes. Don’t judge.” She could throw up right now and be really happy with her choice. Why the fuck had she drank so much.

“Not judging.” The guy was close enough to her face that she felt his words ruffle the hair at her temple. He didn’t smell awful and he was still holding her up. Their chests bumped and Shannon sighed a little more. “Like that do you?”

“S’hard-“ she meant to say that it was hard to stand; harder yet to form a thought beyond too much booze.

The guy actually laughed at her, pushing her back against the wall more securely. He slid a leg between her thighs. He bent close, his hair brushing her face as he dipped his lips to her neck, and said, “Yeah, it really is.”

Shannon’s eyes snapped open when he took a nip at the skin he found. “What’re you doin’?” She pushed against his shoulders. The world was still spinning. The hand at her waist gripped tighter. “Wait, what-“

“Shhh, it’s okay.”

She did not feel okay. He was relentless with his mouth; she could feel a bruise starting where he sucked hard. The world was still spinning. She tried to push again and he just pulled tighter. What the fuck? Seriously. “I don’t-“

“For fuck’s sake Eaves. Seriously? Right in the middle of the hallway?” Shannon’s head spun as she whipped it to the sound of a familiar voice. It was hard but teasing and so very much Brendan Smith. She could hug him for coming to her rescue. He didn’t look particularly concerned though; he was actually smirking.

“Smith-“

“Fuck off dude. Girl’s mine.” Lacrosse Dude had stop the molestation of her neck long enough to snap out a warning at Smith. Smith raised both hands and stepped back. No, Shannon thought. No, don’t go.

She mustered what strength she could and pushed at the guy’s shoulders. He still wouldn’t budge. Smith was laughing, “Didn’t mean to intrude. Just wanted to poke some fun at her. Miss High and Mighty caught me here earlier.” There must have been a bro-moment here, one where Smith was clearly misunderstanding the situation and Lacrosse Dude was sure he was off the hook.

“Let go of me.” She was quiet. It was still really hard to keep her eyes open. She saw Smith turn to go through slits and she mustered what volume she could. “Smith. Help me.” She was a little louder. Lacrosse Dude pulled her away from the wall and maneuvered her towards the far end of the hall. She didn’t know what was down there but she didn’t want to find out.

“Smith!”

“Shut the fuck up, would you?” Lacrosse Dude was hustling her a little faster than she could really go and she stumbled. His hand on her arm was much tighter than she would have expected as he hauled her back to her feet. She let out a pained whine.

“Smith. Come back.” She was quickly passing into terrified, reaching out the only person who might hear her.

It was lucky for her that Smith, apparently, wasn’t a complete dumb ass. With a shout of, “Hey! Not cool, dude,” Lacrosse Dude was violently pulled away from her. Shannon slumped to the floor and watched as Smith caught the other guy across the cheek. Lacrosse Dude made to hit back but Smith grabbed him by the shirt.

“If you were about to do what I think you were about to do you should seriously reconsider your life choices shit head.”

The other guy growled, “What the fuck concern is it of yours? I saw you with that girl earlier. You didn’t seem to mind getting some on the fly.”

Smith hauled him in close, his voice dropping to the icy tones Shannon was so familiar with. “Mandy said yes. Several times, in fact. Shannon is obviously in no condition to consent. Now get the fuck away from her before you find out what happens when you fuck with an entire hockey team.” He shoved the guy away. Lacrosse Dude looked between the two of them before he threw his hands up and stalked away, swearing and muttering about assholes.

Shannon blinked up at her savior several times. Smith was breathing heavy, his chest heaving and his hands clenched at his sides. She opened her mouth to thank him, to ask where her shoes were, to ask if he and Mandy had at least exchanged phone numbers. She couldn’t get the words out, though. Her mouth snapped shut and she let out the breath she’d been holding. What a mess. She let her eyes close again, willing herself to get her shit together before she broke down in the hallway of a fucking frat house in front of Brendan Smith, who was probably about to make fun of her for getting herself in to such a cluster fuck.

“What a fucking mess.” He muttered a few more things that she couldn’t catch but it hurt that even he could see how badly she’d fucked up. She knew better than to get so drunk in a strange place and to wander away from friends. She should have taken one of the guys with her; should have actually probably had someone take her back to her room after finding Smith and that girl, Mandy, instead of drinking.

She could feel the burn of tears in her eyes. The emotional explosion was coming whether she wanted it to or not. A hand fell on her shoulder. She jerked instinctively but then she heard something that she hadn’t heard since September. “Hey, it’s all right. He’s gone.” The sound of Smith’s voice when he wasn’t trying to be a jerk. “Shannon, come on. It’s going to be all right; can you stand up for me?”

When her eyes opened she found Smith hovering over her, concerned and sympathetic. He gave her a reassuring smile. She nodded back and let him pull her upright. An arm wound around her waist, just helpful and not penning her in at all. He led her back to the group.

The guys all stopped and turned to watch the pair of them. Even with the shit lighting and the abundance of a hundred different girls to distract them, they all turned and knew something was wrong. Why else would Shannon or Smith be touching, willingly? The group all took on step forward, towards them. Shannon didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened. Several things would happen: her guys would probably go find Lacrosse Dude and end up on the front page of a newspaper or four, she’d have to deal with them handling her with kid gloves, or, god forbid, they’d tell her dad.

Her dad would ban her from life and fire her and lock her in her old room until she was 30.

Smith sensed her hesitation and held up a hand. “Has anyone seen Shannon’s shoes?” The team exchanged more curious looks. Touching and calling her by her first name? They must think the two of them had been body snatched.

Graham brought them forward and helped her balance while she put them back on. Smith wrapped her in her coat. Her head was still spinning out of control. She croaked out a request for water and a bottle was pressed into her hands. At the front door, she was greeted by the familiar gust of frigid winter air and it helped clear her head a bit. “Are you going to make it the few blocks to the hotel?”

Smith wasn’t going anywhere but he probably wasn’t looking forward to the idea of having to carry her. She nodded. He was completely attentive all the way back, holding her up gently and ensuring that she didn’t stop drinking her water.

He even opened up her room, guiding her inside. Shannon had done real well on the way back. Between the water and the temperature it was almost like she was sober. She took one look at the bathroom, though, and everything went wobbly once more. She made it to the toilet before she emptied her stomach but not by much.

And Smith still remained. Careful hands pulled her hair back while she heaved once more and then for a third time. This would have been the most embarrassing moment of her short life if she’d had the mental fortitude to care. As it was she had ran out of her last fuck to give the moment he’d picked up off that hallway floor.

Her dry heaves subsided and Smith maneuvered her to the sink to wash her mouth. He kept a hand on her back, steadying her every time she swayed. At his cajoling she brushed her teeth and put down a couple of glasses of water.

She was, blessedly, starting to sober up. She met Smith’s eyes in the mirror and her heart could have broken at the kindness she saw staring back at her. Somewhere in her head she had always known that his shittiness towards her was a direct result of the way she’d treated him. She hadn’t really done anything wrong; if she’d have allowed the infatuation to continue it would have been worse in the end. This moment, though, gave her a glimpse of what could have been.

Shannon almost regretted her decision to blow him off.

Smith blinked away first, turning her back towards the room. He pulled off her coat and her boots, sitting her down carefully on the bed. He reached for her shirt and she lifted her arms without complaint. He left the tank top and Shannon fell back to the bed. “Why are you being so nice?”

Her voice was a bit steadier at least. He stared down at her and she was able to keep her eyes open to stare back, finally. Smith’s brow furrowed as he regarded her. He still wasn’t angry-looking as he usually was.

“You scared the shit out of me. I’m sorry. I should have known you wouldn’t-“ He huffed and looked away, down at the floor.

Shannon had to make contact with him, bring her back to her and what he’d been saying. She pushed herself up and caught her hand. He startled a bit at the touch but didn’t jerk away. “I wouldn’t what? Smith?”

He swallowed. “I should have known you wouldn’t have tried to hook up at some random college party.” He sounded like it was his fault that guy was a total douche nozzle. “I’m just glad I was listening.” The hand gripping her fingers tightened. “Jesus, Shannon. He almost-“

His anguish was hard to hear. Clearly Smith still cared about her, at least a little. It gave her hope. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is fine.” She was trying to drunkenly console Smith now. Console him because she’d made a poor life choice and he’d saved her. He’d- fuck, Smith was her knight in shining armor right then.

When he looked back down at her, Shannon finally felt the full weight of her night.

Lacrosse dude wouldn’t have stopped, no matter what she said. The only reason she wasn’t back in that house right now, with some stranger- the only reason she wasn’t being-

She couldn’t even form the word in her head. The possibility stole the breath from her. Smith saw her realization a moment before the panic set in. He made a distressed sound, high in his throat, as her eyes filled with tears.

Shannon collapsed back on the bed once more, this time pulling Smith with her. He fell right beside her, both arms coming around to bring her close. Shannon buried her face in his chest. They could have been anyone. Could have been lifelong friends going through a terrible trauma. They could be dating; the boyfriend console the girlfriend after a terrible close call.

But it was Shannon and Smith, touching willingly and carefully and she couldn’t even care that he’d been a prick in the past. She needed him. A whole lot. And he was totally okay with being needed and perhaps needed to be there too right at that moment.

Notes

This was written years before this week's shit show with what's his nuts from Chicago. I thought long and hard about rewriting it. I asked myself what it brings to the story, and it begins the eventual breakdown of Shannon, so it sort of has to stay. So she can be rebuilt. I never support rape just for the sake of drama in fiction and I hope that's not what you guys take away from this.