Chubby Chaser (14 page)

“I’m at SCU on an official visit for football for the weekend—”

“An official football visit?”

“Yeah. Colleges bring top-level high-school players out to their campus for a visit and wine and dine them to try to get them to come to their school and play for them when they start college. And spare me the self-righteous rant about the double standards and preferential treatment for athletes.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I’m thinking about hanging up.”

“No, don’t. Sorry, okay? Anyway, SCU brought me out for an official visit, and I was talking to this lady, this academic advisor, about choosing a major, you know, in case football doesn’t work out, and the thing is, I don’t have any fucking clue what to major in. The only thing I’ve ever been all that interested in is football,”—well, football, parties, and sex, but he doubted he could major in the last two—“and football might not work out. A lot of guys don’t make it to the NFL, and I saw the guys here playing, and they’re so much better than me. I don’t think—when I get to SCU next year, I don’t think I’ll be able to cut it. So . . . what do you think? Am I being a total pussy?” he asked, hoping that she didn’t make fun of him.

“No, not at all. Going to college can be pretty scary, especially in a big city like Los Angeles. You just have to remember that SCU wouldn’t have brought you out for an official visit if you weren’t good enough for the team, and you’re only gonna be a freshman when you get there. Those guys you saw playing, they probably weren’t freshmen, were they?”

“No, they were juniors and seniors.”

“See? You’ll still have time to improve and get on their level, just like you had time to improve and get on the level you’re on now. And you’ll still have time to figure out your major. At most colleges, you don’t have to declare a major until the end of your sophomore year.”

Why didn’t he think of all that? She was right. She was right about everything. If he’d known talking to her would make him feel this much better, he would’ve called her first instead of Eric. “Have you figured out what you want to major in yet?”

“Yeah. I actually wanna double major in art and economics at Wesleyan University.”

“Economics, I get—you’re a math wiz—but art?”

“Yeah, I love to paint, but it’s hard to pay the bills doing just that, so I figured I’d either become a stock broker or a financial advisor or a financial analyst, and do my art on the side. I might try to make a career out of it once I’m good financially, but I’m fine keeping my art as just a hobby.”

Damn,
she put him to shame. She had her shit together, knew what she wanted, and had a clear plan on how to get it. He never knew a girl could be this badass.

He downloaded
Vespertine
to his phone
that night and listened to it as he fell asleep. When he woke up, he downloaded the rest of Bjork’s discography.

A half-finished painting of people dying in a rushing flood sat in Sara’s attic. No music was playing, as it was four in the morning, and her father was sleeping.

I can
’
t believe Jason Pruitt called me
. Sara had ended her call with him twenty minutes ago, but Jason wanting to talk to her still stunned her. She wasn’t being some silly slut like the rest of the girls at Tallis High, who worshiped the ground Jason Pruitt walked on, and was proud that he had chosen her to confide in. No, she was simply surprised. She would’ve thought that the football king would’ve had a million people to lean on for support and advice. Did this make her and Jason friends now? She thought people called their friends to talk about their problems, not people who were tutoring them. Sara had never had a real friend before (no one had ever liked her enough: the kids she went to school with had relentlessly attacked her over everything, from her weight to her clothes; they had even attacked her for being smart and knowledgeable), so she wasn’t sure how these things worked.

She had always wanted a friend—someone who liked her by choice, not because the person had to, like her parents—but she had never thought that it would be Jason Pruitt. He had always come off as obnoxious, and full of himself and dumber than a box full of rocks, although now that she was getting to know him better, he wasn’t that bad (he had been extremely kind and compassionate when they had been talking about her mother).

With the exception of schoolwork, she didn’t know what she and Jason could do together: She didn’t share any of his interests (she had tried the Kanye West album; it wasn’t for her, and she’d rather have rectal cancer than even contemplate sitting through a football game). She didn’t want to sit with him at lunch or go out to eat with him (she didn’t feel comfortable eating in front of other people). She didn’t think it would be a good idea for them to sit together in class, either (she took her classes seriously, even the ones she didn’t like, while Jason did not). And she sure as hell didn’t want to hang out with his friends (she hated all of them, and she was positive they felt the same). It was nice, though, to finally have a friend.

Over the next few weeks, Jason found himself spending more and more time with Sara and less and less with his friends. She was just so much easier to talk to. With her he could say what he really felt, and he didn’t have to
put on a veneer of toughness and act as though he were suave and cool and confident twenty-four-seven. With her he didn’t feel so lonely, which was kind of odd when he thought about it: he was the most popular guy in school; he was always surrounded by people—people whom he considered friends, people who wanted to be his friends, and girls who would slit their wrists to date him—yet, until Sara, he had always felt extremely lonely.

Another thing he liked about Sara was that she was really smart, and not simply smart for a girl but smart, period. One minute she might be talking about how the US government had acted in the aftermath of 9/11 being similar to how it had acted in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor proved that history repeated itself; the next, about how she thought Joss Whedon was the modern-day Shakespeare.

She was funny too. She did great impersonations of some of the people they went to school with, such as Michael Adams (she had done a hilarious parody of one of his political speeches) and Kimberly Weitsel (she had made fun of how Kimberly constantly twirled her hair, said the word
like
every other sentence, and spoke in a high-pitched nasal voice).

She was also an exceptional artist. She had taken Jason up to her attic during one of their tutoring sessions (at his request) and shown him a painting she had done as part of her art portfolio for Wesleyan. It was a painting of trees melting while brown, orange, and red spear-shaped leaves fell from the trees’ drooping branches, with frightened passersby below running for their lives to avoid death by leaf. It was impressive but also kind of creepy and disturbing. She had said it was based on Salvador Dalí’s work, whoever that was.

Jason stopped by Sara’s on Monday. He had football practice, but he had decided to skip it; seeing Sara was more important. He had to tell her about all of the feelings bubbling up inside of him. Sara answered the door, wearing a blue T-shirt that clung to her huge boobs and jeans that showed off her big (in a good way) ass.

“Oh, hi, Jason,” she said, smiling. “What are you doing here? Don’t you usually have football practice on Mondays?”

“I needed to see you.” He stepped past her to enter the house.

Sara closed the door behind him. “Do you need more tutoring?” she asked, fondling her breasts.

“No, I . . . I just needed to see you. I can’t stop thinking about you. I think about you every single second of every single day. I think about your smile, I think about all the funny shit you say, I think . . . no, I know, I love you.”

“You love me?” Her voice quivered, her body shook, and her eyes began to swell. “Me too. I love you too. I loved you from the very first moment I laid eyes on you. I was just too afraid to say it. That’s why I always act like such a raging bitch toward you. I’ve been hurt so many times before—”

“I know. I understand.” Jason went to her. He kissed her. He slid his tongue in her mouth and massaged her tongue with his. He then moved down to her neck, and started kissing and nibbling it.

“Oh, Jason!” Sara moaned. “Take me upstairs! I need you inside me, right now!”

Jason lifted Sara into his arms, and much to his surprise, she was light as air. He kicked her bedroom door open and laid her on the bed. Jason removed his clothes as Sara removed hers. Watching her, he could tell she was nervous and shy about exposing her body, but she had no reason to be. Jason would never make fun of her or criticize her weight. She wasn’t that big, anyway, and her huge tits more than compensated for the excess weight. He joined her on the bed and climbed on top of her.

“This is my first time, so be gentle, okay?” she entreated, her voice soft and vulnerable.

“Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He leaned down and kissed her while moving one hand between her thick thighs, and then, not knowing what came over him, he replaced his hand with his mouth, using his tongue to stimulate her. Jason had never gone down on a girl before (he liked pussy, just not on his lips and tongue), but he had felt an uncontrollable urge to do it to Sara. He lubricated her well and then climbed back on top, slowly sliding himself inside her. She was so warm and tight that Jason thought he was going to come after only a couple of thrusts.

“Oh, Jason, you feel so big,” Sara moaned, “and so good.”

“I love you, Sara. God, I love you so much.”

“Get it, bro!” Andy cheered.

“Man, I wish my dick was that big and my stroke was that good,” Eric said wistfully. He and Andy were watching as Jason and Sara made love.

Jason sat up in bed, gasping for air, his body drenched with sweat and his boxers stained with semen. That dream—that nightmare had been so wrong on so many levels. There was no way in hell that he could be attracted to Sara Krason. He liked hot girls, and while Sara was definitely a cool, fun chick, she was nowhere near hot. She was kind of cute, though, if you looked at her at a certain angle. But that still wasn’t good enough for him. His alarm clock went off. It was time for school.

Thoughts of Sara and his wet dream about her plagued Jason all throughout the school day. He had football practice afterward, and he hoped doing something intensive and physical would be enough to pry her from his mind, at least for a little while.

Aries hiked the ball to Jason. Jason ran with the ball. He was supposed to throw it downfield to Andy, but the image of Sara writhing underneath him popped into his head, causing him to lose focus, which allowed Vinny Mellerino, a varsity second-string outside linebacker, to tackle him from behind.

The coach blew his whistle. “Pruitt, what the hell is wrong with you? That’s the hundredth time you fucked up today.”

“Sorry, Coach,” Jason said, getting to his feet.

“Are you sick? Please tell me you’re not sick. We got a game against Central on Saturday, and I need you on your A game.”

“No, I’m good, Coach. Just having an off day is all.”

“Well, on Saturday you better be having an on day. Let’s get back to work.”

Jason continued to underperform for the rest of practice, and it fucking pissed him off: it was bad enough that he was fantasizing about a fat chick, but now she was screwing up his game on the field.

“What was going on out there, J?” Eric asked when they got back to the locker room. “You were playing as bad as Andy.”

“Fuck you, man.” Andy playfully punched Eric in the arm.

“Nothing, man, I’m good. Like I said out on the field, I’m just having an off day.”

“You sure?” Andy said. “We haven’t seen you that much these last few weeks. Whenever we call you to hang out, you always say you’re busy.”

“I’ve just been doing stuff.”

“Would that include doing Ms. Piggy?” Eric inquired. “You pork her yet?”

“Ms. Piggy?”

“Yeah, Sara Krason. You were supposed to fuck her then report back with details and a video or her panties, remember? Have you forgotten all about our bet?”

“No, of course not. I’m still working on it.” The truth was Jason had forgotten all about the bet after he had started spending more time with Sara. He wasn’t sure he wanted to continue with the bet (he thought that it would be gay as hell to do that to her now that he had gotten to know her and had befriended her), but he didn’t have much of a choice. He couldn’t lose face with his friends. Or with himself. He had never lost a bet before, or failed to meet a challenge, and he wasn’t about to start now, not with four hundred dollars on the line. And it wasn’t as though Sara would find out, anyway, so she wouldn’t get hurt.

“The end of the marking period is in a couple of weeks,” Andy told him.

“I’m pretty close to cracking her,” Jason said, to make himself look better.

“You sure, J? It’s never taken you this long to get it.”

“I’m sure. I’m so sure we can raise the bet to six hundred if you two can handle it.”

“Sorry. Too rich for my blood,” Andy said.

“I’m gonna go with Andy on this one. Sara’s not worth that much, not even if you get her to do anal.”

“Ew!” Jason and Andy said.

During Tuesday’s tutoring session, Jason and Sara were working on curvatures. In their previous sessions, Jason would flub on purpose, so he would have an excuse to keep seeing Sara, but he was genuinely messing up this time. His wet dream about her was still bothering him, and sitting so close to her wasn’t helping matters. She smelled strikingly good, like vanilla ice cream on a hot summer day. She probably tasted even better, like ice-cold water after a long run in the late-August sun. And she might be fat, but she wasn’t ugly. She was actually quite pretty, with her blue eyes, milky complexion, and full lips. He loved how her red hair sparkled when the sunlight caught it. And her tits were nice, too. What he wouldn’t give to get his hand down her shirt . . .

“Ugh!” Jason yelled in frustration. He slammed a fist on the table.

“It’s okay,” Sara said. “The problem is you’re working the problem like it’s an extrinsic curvature when it’s an intrinsic curvature. It’s a pretty easy mistake to make. You see, an intrinsic curvature . . .”

She thought calculus was the problem. It wasn’t. She was the problem. And her hair and her lips and her breasts. “I don’t care!” Jason said, cutting her off. “I don’t care about any of this shit!”

“Jason, you need to get at least a B to get into SCU, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I’m not an idiot, and you’re not my mom, so I don’t need you riding”—images of them having sex, with Sara on top, riding him, flashed into his mind—“bossing, I don’t need you bossing me around like a goddamn child.”

Sara’s eyes narrowed and her nostrils flared. “What the fuck is your problem? You came to me for help, but if you don’t want it anymore—”

“No, I do, I do. Sorry for acting like an asshole. I’m . . . I’m having problems with my dad.” Jason wasn’t actually having problems with his dad, at least none to get him this upset, but he couldn’t tell Sara the real reason he had snapped on her: he was fantasizing about ripping her clothes off, bending her over the
dining-room table
, and violently fucking her from behind—and it made him disgusted with himself. So he had lied.

“Oh no. Are you okay? Let’s talk about it. What happened?”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to talk. I just . . . I just need to be alone for a while. I think I’m gonna end today’s session early.”

“Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll see you on Thursday, then?” she said, sanguine.

“Yeah, sure.”

She walked him to the door.

Jason got into his car and banged his forehead on the steering wheel several times. What the fuck was wrong with him? Where were these weird, nauseating feelings for Sara coming from? Why couldn’t he shake them? Why was his mind constantly focused on having sex with her? Sex, that’s it! Jason hadn’t had sex, or even masturbated, in almost a month. That’s the longest he had gone without a lay since he had lost his virginity, sophomore year, and Sara was the only girl he had spent any significant time with lately, so of course he would start fantasizing about her. The drought was messing with his mind. These feelings he had developed for Sara were nothing more than a sexual mirage. Once he quenched his thirst, he was cocksure that all his sexual thoughts and feelings about her would go away. And he knew just the girl to be his oasis.