Tim was making himself a sandwich and Billy was stretched out on the couch, watching TV, when a resounding crash from the front yard made them both jump.
"What the hell was that?" Billy snapped.
"How should I know? Sounded like garbage cans or something," Tim replied, abandoning his sandwich and peering out the front window to investigate. "Hold on."
He opened the front door and went outside, shivering as the cold night air struck him. It was early February, and it was about as cold as it ever got in west Texas.
"Somebody out here?" he asked, a plume of steamy breath swirling around his head as he spoke. Silence greeted him, and he closed the door behind him and went around the front of the garage. The garbage cans which had been lined up against the garage door had been toppled over. Thankfully they had been empty, so there was no mess.
Tim frowned. There was no wind to speak of, so something (or someone) must have knocked them over. A funny little whimpering sound came from his left, and he snapped his head around.
The sound came again, and it was definitely coming from his truck. Or underneath it, at least.
Tim crouched down, peering under the front bumper. Between the two front wheels, he saw a scruffy muzzle resting on two dirty, furry paws. Getting down on all fours, he could see two shining brown eyes watching him warily.
"Hey, dog," he said.
The dog wagged his tail twice, thumping it against the driveway, but didn't move. Tim smiled.
"Come on out, buddy," he said, sitting up. There was no movement from under the truck. "I ain't gonna hurt you."
He watched as two paws, a damp black nose, and eventually two brown eyes crept forward, peering cautiously up at him.
"I mean it," Tim urged, leaning back on his haunches and patting his legs in invitation. "Come here, boy!"
A pause, and then Tim suddenly found himself face-to-face with the big, dirty mutt he had seen several days earlier on his drive home, darting furtively out of a neighbour's side yard. The dog wagged excitedly, his entire body shivering. He swiped a wide, wet tongue across Tim's face.
"Ugh," Tim laughed, gently pushing the dog away. The dog stood back, panting, his face wary but hopeful. He was a mutt about the size of a German shepherd with a scruffy, wiry beige coat, and darker red and brown fur on his legs, tail, and ears. One triangular ear stood quizzically upwards, while the other lay flat against his head, its wispy fur sticking out in every direction.
"Come here," Tim said, and the dog stepped forward. Tim held him gently, checking him for a collar or a tattoo in his ear. There was nothing identifying the dog or its owner.
"You belong to someone, buddy?" Tim asked, scratching the dog behind his ears.
The dog merely panted and wagged his tail, giving Tim a baleful look.
"Come on," Tim said, standing up. "We've got some hot dogs in here, at least." The dog followed him without further urging up to the house.
"Billy, check it out!" Tim said as he entered. The dog shot past him and into the house, crashing past the coffee table and sticking his wet face right into Billy's in an enthusiastic greeting.
"Tim!" Billy shouted, sitting up and pushing the dog away. "What the hell?"
Abandoning Billy, the dog began to curiously sniff his way around the living room, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints in his wake.
"I think it's that stray dog that's been getting into everybody's garbage," Tim said. "I don't think he belongs to anyone."
"That's great, Tim. Why the hell is he in my house?"
"He's gonna get hit by a car if we just leave him out there," Tim replied.
"So?"
"What do you care?" Tim asked. "I'll take care of him."
"Are you kidding me? You're actually serious about this? Tim, you can barely take care of yourself, never mind some stray dog that's probably never lived in a house in its life."
"Come on, Billy," Tim wheedled. "I'll train him and he can guard our stuff."
"I don't know," Billy replied, frowning. The dog appeared from behind the kitchen counter, dragging the overturned kitchen garbage can out into the middle of the room.
"Billy, remember how we always used to beg Dad for a dog?"
"Yeah, I remember," Billy admitted, his resolve starting to crack.
"Now we can have our own dog!" Tim said, gesturing at the mutt, who was currently chewing on a piece of plastic wrap. "Tell me he isn't a Riggins."
Billy scratched his chin, observing the dog.
"Please?" Tim threw in, for good measure.
"Fine!" Billy sighed, rolling his eyes. "But you can't let him destroy the place. And he has to sleep outside, at least for now, until he's trained and he doesn't smell like the dump on a hot day."
"Yes!" Tim crowed. "Did you hear that, buddy? You can stay!"
The dog glanced up from the garbage he was enjoying to thump his tail at Tim.
"What's his name?" Billy asked, coming closer.
"I dunno," Tim replied. "He doesn't have one, so I guess we'll have to give him a new one."
"How 'bout Tex?" Billy suggested.
"Maybe," Tim said, hands on his hips as he watched the dog contemplatively. "How 'bout Gridiron?"
"Gridiron," Billy repeated, testing it out.
"Hey," Tim said, crouching down to get the dog's attention. "Gridiron! Grid! Come here, boy!"
The dog abandoned his meal and stood, wagging his tail tentatively at the brothers.
"Is your name Gridiron, boy?"
The dog wagged harder, approaching Tim and licking his face.
"I think that's a yes," Billy said.
"I think so, too," Tim smiled, scratching the dog's ears. He frowned and glanced up at Billy. "He really does stink, though."
"Yeah," Billy agreed, grimacing. "He really does."
Julie was standing at her locker trying to find her lunch money when Tim appeared next to her.
"What are you doing for lunch?" he asked.
"Um, I heard the cafeteria's serving beef stroganoff, so probably not that," Julie said, grimacing.
"Wanna get out of here?" Tim asked. "I've got something to show you."
Julie turned and looked at Tim. His eyes were gleaming with excitement, and he was practically bouncing on his feet. Her usually unflappable, laconic boyfriend was acting like a little kid on Christmas morning.
"Sure," Julie agreed somewhat warily, shouldering her bag. Tim grabbed her hand and practically dragged her out to his truck in the parking lot, barely waiting for her to get in before starting the engine and peeling out.
Julie watched Tim, bewildered. He was almost grinning as he drove. He took the turn onto his street sharply, and parked the Silverado crookedly in the driveway.
"Come on," he urged, hopping out of the truck.
Julie followed him into the house and towards the back doors which led out onto the back patio. Julie frowned; the glass doors were covered with what looked like muddy paw prints.
"I want you to meet someone," Tim grinned, sliding the doors open and stepping out onto the patio. Julie followed him, and was immediately assaulted by a pair of huge, dirty paws and a wet, stinky tongue swiping across her face.
"Ugh!" Julie exclaimed, holding her hands up and taking a step back in surprise.
"Down," Tim said firmly, coming up and grabbing the dog by his makeshift rope collar. "What did I tell you about jumping up on people, buddy?"
"Wha-what?" Julie stammered, looking down at the muddy paw prints covering her top and her jeans in dismay.
"This is Gridiron," Tim replied, crouching down next to the excited dog, who was gazing raptly up at Julie and quivering, obviously only sitting because Tim was holding him there. Julie gaped.
"Tim, why do you have a dog in your backyard?"
"He's a stray," Tim said, scratching one of the dog's ears, heedless of the dirt. The dog turned and looked up at Tim, grinning a toothy dog grin and taking the opportunity to lick Tim's chin. "He's been hanging around our neighbourhood for a while, and I found him under the truck last night. He doesn't have a collar or anything; I don't think he belongs to anyone."
"You should probably check with the pound," Julie suggested. "Someone might be looking for him."
"I doubt it," Tim replied. "He's skinny, and he's pretty gross. He's been on his own for a while."
"Yeah," she agreed. "You should still check, though. Also maybe think about giving him a bath."
"I tried, but Billy won't help me and he's kind of a handful," Tim said, a concerned frown on his face as he scratched the dog behind the ears. "I feel bad, too – the water from the hose is freezing."
Julie had no desire whatsoever to help her boyfriend bathe an ill-mannered stray dog who probably had fleas, but watching Tim crouch next to the dog as he eagerly tried to lick his face, Julie couldn't help but melt a little.
"There's that pet store up on Murphy Street where you can wash your dog yourself for like $5 or something," Julie offered. "We could get him a collar and stuff, too."
"For real? You'll help?" Tim asked, looking up at her hopefully. She smiled and rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, of course," she replied. "But please tell me you'll teach him some manners or something. I heard somewhere that it's bad for dogs to live in self-directed chaos. Like, psychologically."
Tim merely hummed in response before standing up. "You wanna go do that now?"
"Sure," Julie shrugged. "I have a free period after lunch, anyway."
Between the two of them (and with the help of a pack of hot dogs) they were able to coax Gridiron into the back of Tim's truck. Julie flat out refused to let him sit in the cab until he'd been thoroughly bathed.
They drove to the pet store and found the washing station at the back of the shop unoccupied. Gridiron grew suspicious, but Tim finally manhandled him into the tub. With the dog safely secured, Julie began soaking his matted fur while Tim went to find shampoo.
"How did I get stuck with this job, huh?" Julie asked the dog, pulling the detachable showerhead over to soak the thick fur at his neck. Gridiron turned and gave her a downcast look. "Not a big fan of baths?" The dog sighed, and Julie scratched his damp ears. "You're not so bad, are you? You're a pretty good boy, Gridiron."
"That's a beautiful dog you've got there," came a voice from right beside her. Julie jumped – she hadn't even heard the clerk approach. He was standing very close, watching her bathe the dog with interest. He was older than her, college-aged, maybe, with dark blond hair and a handsome face.
"Oh, thanks," Julie stammered, taken aback.
"I'm guessing shampoo might help get him cleaner, though," the guy smirked, a little smug. Julie resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"Uh, yeah, my boyfriend's just getting some," she said as she turned back to the dog, hoping he'd take the hint. He didn't.
"My name's Ryan. How come I haven't seen you around...?" he continued, pausing as though prompting her to provide her name.
"Julie," she offered grudgingly, simply to be polite. "You probably haven't seen me around because I'm in high school." She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows, hoping he might take this hint. He didn't.
"Nice. I go to Dillon Tech. I'm taking audio visual, but I've got a band. You should come see us play sometime."
It took everything in her not to roll her eyes. He probably knew The Swede. This was the last thing she needed.
Thankfully, Tim chose that moment to return, a bottle of shampoo in one hand. He edged pointedly in between Julie and Ryan, putting the bottle down on the edge of the tub. He wrapped his arms around Julie from behind. He turned his head, looking directly at Ryan. "Everything okay, babe?"
Ryan backed off immediately. "Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. It's five bucks a wash," he said, making a speedy exit.
"Really nice," Julie complained, elbowing Tim gently in the ribs. He let go and stood next to her, popping the top off the bottle of shampoo. "Very caveman."
"Yeah, well. He was bugging you, right?"
"Kinda, but the macho display was hardly necessary. I can handle a pushy flirt on my own," she huffed. "And don't call me babe."
"What should I call you, then?" he asked with a frown, drizzling shampoo all over Gridiron's back. Julie reached over and shut off the water, and they both started massaging the shampoo into his fur, working out the mats and dirt.
"I don't know," she sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. "Most people call me Julie. You could try that."
"I'm not most people," he responded. They washed Gridiron in silence for a few minutes, then Tim grabbed the showerhead and began rinsing him off. Julie cleaned Gridiron's ears with a rag and some of the solution which sat on a shelf over the tub. She smiled as the dog closed his eyes, leaning into her hand as she massaged his itchy ears.
"Sorry," Tim said, glancing over at her as he rubbed a towel over the dog's dishevelled coat.
"It's okay," Julie replied softly. "I just – you don't have to do that, you know? I'm not flirting with anybody else or looking at anybody else, and anyway, you don't have to prove anything to me or anybody. You know?"
He looked at her for a long moment, then dropped his gaze. "I know."
"Good," she replied, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on his cheek. "Now, how freaked out do you think Gridiron's going to be by the blowdryer?"
"I dunno. How freaked out are you by the blowdryer?"
"What?" Julie asked, turning to look at him. She yelped as a splash of water hit her square in the chest. Sputtering, she looked and spotted the showerhead in Tim's hand, and the devilish look on his face.
"You are so dead," she vowed, reaching to snatch it out of his hand.
Tim getting all grabby because of some smarmy stranger, she minded. That same smarmy stranger having to clean up the water they left all over the floor when they were finally finished spraying one another, she did not mind quite so much.
"Yo, Tyra – can we get some refills over here?"
"I'm going to kill them," Tyra muttered under her breath to Julie. "I'm dead serious."
It was Thursday afternoon and the Panthers didn't have practice, which unfortunately meant that the majority of the team had chosen to descend on Applebee's. More unfortunate still, they took up most of Tyra and Julie's sections, and they were enjoying it.
"I know – can't they go to Fran's or something? It's not like we're giving them free food," Julie grumbled in reply, loading a tray with drinks.
"I think I have an idea of who to blame," Tyra said. Julie looked up to find the other girl glaring pointedly across the restaurant. Julie followed her line of sight and spotted Landry, who was sitting in a booth next to Matt and grinning over at Tyra.
"Well, he knows how to get your attention, at least," Julie offered, with a wince.
"Yeah," Tyra sighed. "Come on."
Each of them hefting a tray of drinks, they made their way to the Panthers' tables. Julie pointedly ignored the cat-calls and obnoxious comments. Tyra, on the other hand, quietly vowed that the next one of them who opened his mouth for anything except to ask for the bill was going to get more than ice in his drink.
Julie finished depositing the last of her drinks and was about to check on one of her non-Panther tables when she felt someone catch her by one of the belt loops in her pants. She turned to see Tim smiling up at her from his seat next to Smash, one finger hooked against her waist.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling her close.
"Is there something I can get you?" Julie asked sardonically, leaning down and lowering her voice. Obviously she didn't mind talking to Tim, but she didn't really want his whole stupid football team rubbernecking at their conversation.
"Sorry," he said ruefully. "I think this was Lando's idea."
"Yeah, I figured that out. Unfortunately for Landry, so did Tyra."
Tim smiled. "Listen, these guys are gonna get out of here soon, but I was thinking I might stick around until your shift's over. Billy's having Tyra's sister over for some kinda fancy dinner date thing. Mind if I come over?"
"Do I mind if you come over?" Julie asked, pretending to seriously consider this. "Gee, I don't know – I was really looking forward to a night of doing my homework alone."
Tim just smiled and continued to look at her, amused.
"Yes, you can come over. The best part is that I'm done pretty soon, and my parents won't be home for a while," she said, cocking what she hoped was an enticing eyebrow.
"Sure," Tim replied with a little smile. He let her go, and turned back to the conversation going on at his table.
In a little over an hour, Tim and Julie pulled into the Taylors' driveway in his truck, and Julie was pleased to see that, as she had hoped, neither of her parents were home. She let them both into the house, leaving Tim in the living room while she went back to her bedroom to change out of her work clothes.
When she came back out, she was surprised not to find Tim on the couch and iOprah/i on the TV, as she had expected. Tim sat at the table, his books spread out in front of him.
Frowning, she picked up her bag from where she'd dropped it in the hallway and came to sit down next to him, pulling out her own homework. She opened her notebook and tried to work, but with Tim there and her parents conveniently absent, she couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't something better they could be doing.
"Want something to drink?" she asked, leaning into his space a little, her shoulder brushing against his.
"Nah, I'm good," he replied, not looking up from his book.
Julie propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Really, she was about thirty seconds away from full-on pouting. Sighing, she hooked a foot around one of Tim's and rubbed his ankle with her toes.
"I thought you were supposed to be keeping me on the straight and narrow," Tim said, turning a page in his textbook. The little smile playing at the corner of his lips gave him away.
"When did I ever agree to be the responsible one?" Julie grinned, running a hand up his back to tug on the hair at the base of his neck. "We've still got a while before my mom comes home."
Tim turned his head and regarded her, a strange sort of look on his face as his eyes dropped to her lips. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and he cleared his throat, looking away.
"I got this test tomorrow," he said. "I gotta at least try to study."
Julie sighed and backed off, somewhat confused at the reversal of roles that had Tim insisting on schoolwork and her trying to distract him. She settled for tangling his feet with her own as she worked, and sighing frequently, just so he knew that she knew that he was doing this simply to torment her.
A short time later, the front door opened and Tami arrived home, one arm holding Gracie, and the other a bag of groceries.
"Hey mom," Julie said, snatching her foot from where it was resting on top of Tim's.
"Hey, y'all," Tami replied breathlessly, breezing into the living room to deposit Gracie in her playpen before heading to the kitchen. "How was school?"
"Fine," Julie said, looking back down at her notebook.
"Tim?"
"It was good, Mrs. Taylor."
"You go to all your classes?" Julie threw her mother an annoyed look, but Tim just smiled like he actually enjoyed this kind of invasion of his privacy.
"Yes ma'am."
"Good. You staying for dinner, Tim?"
"Sure, if there's room at the table."
"Of course there is. Actually, that reminds me," Tami said, emerging from the kitchen and standing in the hallway to look at them. "Tim, Julie's father and I would like to have you over for dinner once a week. We were thinking maybe Wednesdays. No football talk or checking up on your schoolwork, just family dinner. What do you say?"
Julie's mouth dropped open, and she glared mutinously at her mother.
"I'd like that, Mrs. Taylor," Tim replied, obviously pleased.
"Great!" Tami replied. "Isn't that great, Jules?"
"It's great," Julie deadpanned. Just what she needed – more supervised time with her boyfriend.
Gracie began to fuss at being ignored as Tami prepared dinner, so while Tim entertained her baby sister on the couch, Julie cleared up their books and set the table. Her father arrived home shortly thereafter, and things descended into full-fledged Taylor family chaos until dinner was ready and they all sat down to eat the meal Tami had thrown together.
After a quick grace, they dug in, and barely had time to fill their plates with pasta and salad before the football talk started.
"Riggins, you tell Jules what we've been up to?" her father asked, twirling a forkful of spaghetti on his plate.
"Not yet, sir," Tim replied, looking down at his plate. Across the table, Julie stared at the top of his head.
"What have you been up to?" she asked, glancing from Tim to her father, somewhat apprehensive. Tim looked up at her and then over at her father, before frowning down at his plate once again.
"Uh, we're working on some college stuff, I guess," he said.
"College stuff?" Tami asked, sounding excited at the prospect. "Well, that's just wonderful, Tim. Your grades sure are a lot better than they were last year, which is a great start."
Her parents launched off into a discussion of what combination of athletic and academic achievement would be necessary to get Tim a scholarship. Tim and Julie sat silently throughout the exchange, Tim steadily working his way through his spaghetti without looking up. Julie watched him, unsure what to do. She wanted to congratulate and encourage him, but this had come about so unexpectedly. She couldn't help but wonder – did he really want to go to college, or was he just trying to impress her parents? Or, perhaps worse, trying to impress her?
"Isn't that just fantastic, Jules?" Tami asked, her voice cutting into Julie's thoughts. She looked over at Tim, and saw that he was watching her with a guardedly expectant sort of expression on his face.
"Yes!" she replied, nodding as though she actually knew what they'd specifically been discussing. "Yeah, of course I think it's great. I mean, why not, right?" She grabbed her water and took a big gulp to avoid having to speak further.
They moved on to other topics, and Julie let her parents continue to carry the conversation, troubled once again by her thoughts. She and Tim had gotten to know each other pretty well over the last few months, first as friends and then as more than that, and not once had he ever mentioned anything about wanting to go to college. Other people had mentioned it, herself included, but he had never expressed a desire to go. Why now?
The meal over, Julie and Tim cleared the table while Eric moved to the couch and Tami took Gracie off to bed before returning to clean up. Eager to dodge her parents, Julie didn't start on the dishes, and she elbowed Tim in the arm when he tried to offer.
"We're both done with our homework, so..." Julie said, moving purposefully in the direction of the garage and trying to hint her intentions to Tim. He stared at her and shook his head a little, confused. She rolled her eyes. "We're gonna go play some ping-pong, okay?"
"Not too late, though," Tami called from the kitchen. "It's a school night. And on your way out there, give your father a smack upside the head for not helping me with these dishes."
"All right, all right," Eric grumbled, getting up from the couch and heading into the kitchen. Julie grabbed Tim's hand and pulled him quickly in the direction of the garage, before either of her parents could suggest a movie or a game of Yahtzee or something equally torturous.
"Alone at last," Julie sighed as they went into the garage, closing the door behind them. Tim flicked on the harsh overhead light and looked at her.
"Should we leave the door open or something?" he asked.
"Are you serious?" she laughed, grabbing the paddles and a ping-pong ball off the table. "You probably won't want my dad to hear you crying when I whip your butt."
"You're all talk, Taylor," Tim replied, smiling and shaking his head in mock dismay.
"We'll just have to see about that," she threatened, serving a shot to him.
They served back and forth, eventually getting a decent volley going, but soon Tim was steadily racking up the points. It didn't take long before he had her against the ropes. Her pride at stake, Julie wrenched the paddle as hard as she could and whipped the ball across the table with a sharp thwack, hoping to take him by surprise.
"Ow!" Tim exclaimed, dropped his paddle and cradling his face.
"Oh my god!" Julie exclaimed, running around to the other side of the table. "I didn't mean to hit it right at you!"
"I'm okay, I think," Tim groaned, shaking his head. "It's just my eye."
"Your eye?" Julie yelped. "Let me see!"
Julie reached up and began to pry his hands away from his face, her face taut with worry. Tim began shaking, and after a panicked moment Julie realised that he was laughing.
"Argh!" she yelled, smacking him on his shoulder. "You're such a faker!"
He laughed, grabbing the hand she was using to smack him and pulling her into his chest. He kissed her, the edge of his paddle digging into her back where he held her close. Julie kissed him back, sliding her hand down to his waist, her fingers catching at his belt. She backed into the ping pong table, tugging his hips against hers.
"Whoa," he said, pulling back. Julie didn't move, keeping her hands around his neck.
"What's wrong?" she whispered, trying to kiss him again.
"Jules, stop – your parents," he replied, dislodging her hands and glancing at the door.
"Come on, my dad's watching game tape and my mom's probably working on school stuff. They know we're out here. It's fine!"
"Yeah, but still," he said, pulling away. "I should probably get going, anyway."
"Seriously?"
He regarded her with an unhappy, helpless sort of look on his face, like he wanted to apologise for something. Then he frowned and looked away.
"I'm gonna go say goodnight," he said, turning and walking into the house. He left the door open behind him, and Julie heard the indistinct sound of his voice and her parents' as they said goodnight. He didn't come back out into the garage to go out that way; instead he went out the front door, the closed overhead garage door muffling the sound of his truck starting and pulling out of the driveway.
He didn't even say goodnight to me, Julie thought miserably. She stood alone in the empty garage, her ping pong paddle still gripped in one hand, and listened to the sound of his truck fade into the night.
