Friday Night Lights - "If This One Could Be With You", Tim/Julie, R
Title: If This One Could Be With You - Chapter 2/10
Author: lindentree
Rating: R (for the series; this part is just PG)
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 4,859
Summary: After 2x11, "Jumping the Gun", Julie's parents come up with an appropriate punishment for her - tutoring Tim Riggins.
Chapter 1
Tim scanned the party restlessly. Some sophomore's parents had gone to Austin for the weekend, and most of Dillon had turned out to take advantage of the opportunity to party. The house was packed, drinks were plentiful, and the night was young.
Tim, to his great surprise, was totally bored.
He had spent the better part of the last hour watching his teammates do keg stands and body shots around the pool, participating only half-heartedly himself. He tired of this eventually and moved inside, but the party was no more appealing in the house.
Tim missed the old days, when he and Six and Lyla would show up at a party and it felt like everyone and everything revolved around just the three of them. They would drink and laugh and drink more, and everyone would look at them and smile, and Tim would have too many beers again and Six would laugh and Lyla would roll her eyes, but with fondness instead of disdain. Tim would wake up on the cold foyer floor of his house the next afternoon, the pattern of the tile imprinted on his cheek, and he would smile through the throbbing pain and nausea that followed, because the memories were hazy and golden, and memories were all he believed he had.
Now those memories seemed as altered as everything else. They shifted and changed in his mind so that they were no longer warm, but bittersweet at best. The three of them didn't know then all the things that would befall them, all the things they would do to one another. There was no one to blame for the former, but for the latter, Tim blamed only himself.
Shaking himself from his melancholy thoughts, Tim polished off the beer in his hand and let his eyes wander around the room at all the laughing, remote faces. If Jay or Lyla had been there... No. That wouldn't help. It would be worse. Less like being invisible, but so much worse.
Tim picked up his half-drunk six pack and headed for his truck. If he hurried, he could still make it home in time for Sports Center.
***
“Hey, Jules,” Tim called, his deep voice breaking through the between-classes hallway chaos.
Julie leaned into her open locker, hiding her smile. She didn’t want Tim to know that it secretly pleased her to be called by the nickname only her good friends and family usually used.
“Hey,” she replied, as he came to a stop next to her.
"You weren't at the party on Saturday," he observed.
"Uh, no. I'm still grounded," she replied. "There are no parties on my horizon."
"Oh, right," he remembered absently, the concept of being grounded utterly foreign to him. "You didn't miss much."
"Really? Everyone's been telling me that it was the most amazing night ever."
Tim shrugged, then remembered why he had come over to talk to Julie, and pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag.
“Look,” he said, holding it out for her to see.
“Oh hey!” she said, taking the paper. It was his quiz on A Separate Peace, and at the top was a respectable B- in red ink. “Not bad!” She smiled.
“I know,” he replied, smiling back. “Kinda took me by surprise. I’ve got a test on it next week, though - this was just the reading quiz.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll start going over it.”
“Sounds good,” he replied.
“Hey, that reminds me! Guess who the newest waitress at the Dillon Applebee’s is?”
“Right on,” he smiled. “You’re gonna make killer tips.”
“Thanks,” she beamed. “I hope it won’t conflict too much with tutoring, but I was thinking that like, after practice sometimes you could maybe just sit in a booth in my section and I’ll bring you free Cokes and you can work and I’ll, you know, supervise you or whatever. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me, as long as it’s free beer instead of free Coke. There's a lot of sugar in Coke. I’m trying to watch my figure.”
“Mmm, no. Sorry. Don’t think so,” Julie smiled.
“It was worth a try. See you later, Jules,” he said, turning and heading down the hallway in the direction of the football field.
Julie smiled at his retreating back, and resisted the urge to go gloat to Mrs. Kramer.
***
Lois and Julie were studying for their upcoming calculus test in the library, but Julie was having a hard time focusing. Her first shift at Applebee’s was that evening, right after school, just in time for the dinner rush. She would be training with Tyra and wouldn’t have to be a full-fledged waitress right away, but still. She was nervous, and it was distracting her.
“Okay, I can’t stand it anymore,” Lois whispered suddenly.
“I’m sorry,” Julie hissed back. “I’m just really nervous about my first shift tonight.”
“What?” Lois whispered, frowning in confusion. “No, that’s not it. I overheard something today, and I didn’t think I should tell you, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“What is it?” Julie asked, putting her pen down and leaning closer.
“Okay, so I was cutting through the field after my free period, and a few of the Panthers were sitting in the bleachers.”
“Right. Which Panthers?”
“Ugh, how should I know? Big, dumb guys. Football players.”
“Okay, okay. What did they say?”
“Well, I didn’t hear all of it, but I stopped to listen because I heard your name. Basically they were talking about you and Matt, and about how nobody should date the coach’s daughter because she doesn’t put out, and how that’s why you and Matt broke up.”
Julie stared at her friend for a moment, her mouth hanging open. She could feel the heat of embarrassment rising in her face.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “If that’s what they’re saying on the football team...”
“Then that’s what everyone’s saying,” Lois finished. “Sorry, Jules.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you told me. It’s better if I at least know what everyone’s saying about me behind my back, right?” She stood suddenly, shoving her books into her bag.
“I’d better go,” Julie said, rushing away from the table. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
***
Julie got through her very first shift without incident, trying to put the whole Matt thing out of her mind. Her evening went from bad to worse, however, when Matt and Carlotta came into the restaurant and were seated in the section next to hers, and she had to spend the rest of the night pretending to concentrate on Tyra’s lessons about how to resist the urge to dump drinks on rude customers.
By the end of the night she was exhausted and overwhelmed, and gratefully accepted a ride home from Tyra. They parked in the driveway, and Tyra killed the engine and turned to Julie.
“So, seriously. What’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?” Julie asked. “Did I screw something up?”
“What, at work?” Tyra replied. “No, you did fine. There’s just obviously something bothering you.”
Julie sighed, blowing her long bangs out of her eyes. “Do you really want to hear it?”
“Of course,” Tyra said.
“Okay, you know the whole Matt thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, apparently Matt has been telling the story a little differently when he’s been talking to the Panthers, because Lois overheard a couple of them saying that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out.”
“Ouch,” Tyra said, with a wince.
“Yeah. They were all, ‘Oh, that’s why you don’t date the coach’s daughter, ha ha!’ or whatever,” Julie said, doing her best imitation of a dumb jock guffaw.
“That sucks,” Tyra agreed.
“Yeah, it does suck, and it’s really embarrassing, because now everyone thinks I’m the lame goody-good virgin daughter of the football coach. Ugh,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.
“Just ignore them. Football players are idiots.”
“I just can’t believe he would do that to me, you know? I know he was mad, and he has a right to be, but why did he have to say that to the football players?”
Tyra shrugged, frowning. “I don’t know. Male ego crap, I guess.”
“I guess,” Julie said, looking down at her hands.
“Hey,” Tyra said, “Speaking of big, stupid football players, I heard that you’re tutoring Tim Riggins.”
“Yeah, I am. Just for English, though.”
“How’s that going?”
“It’s going all right, I think. He did pretty well on a quiz this week.”
“Incredible,” Tyra said, raising her eyebrows. “Watch yourself, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s Tim Riggins, and people are going to start talking.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends,” Julie protested.
“First of all, Tim Riggins doesn’t do friends. Trust me. Second, you and I both know it doesn’t matter, but if you’re spending that much time alone with him, the rumours are gonna start flying. I’m just sayin’.”
“Ugh,” Julie groaned, gathering her things. “Sometimes I really hate this town.”
The only comfort Tyra could offer was a sympathetic shrug.
***
Julie sat across from Tim in silence, trying to work on her own homework while he did some practice essay questions for his upcoming test.
Distracted, she was reading the same sentence in her biology textbook for the fourteenth time when she felt something touch her hand. Looking up, she saw it was the tip of Tim’s pen, and he was poking her with it while smiling mischievously at her and paying no attention whatsoever to his work.
“Oh my god,” Jules said, pulling her hand away. “You are like the world’s biggest five-year-old.”
“I’m bored,” he complained, sighing heavily.
“Right. Whereas I find sitting here watching you answer essay questions totally fascinating.”
“What’s your deal today, Taylor? Seriously. Is it that time of the month or something?”
Julie scowled at him. “That’s pretty crass, even for you.”
“Sorry,” he said, smiling unapologetically. “What’s with you, then?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Sure,” he said, throwing down his pen and leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “Hit me.”
“Fine,” she replied, likewise dropping her pen and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yesterday Lois overheard two of your blockhead teammates discussing how Matt dumped me because I wouldn’t put out. If the football team is saying that, everyone’s saying that.”
“Yeah, pretty much everyone is saying that.”
“Well, it’s not true!” Julie hissed, indignant. “Matt didn’t dump me, I dumped him! I cannot believe he’s telling people that he dumped me, and for that reason!”
“He’s not, but that’s what people are saying.”
“How else would that rumour get started, if Matt didn’t?”
“He’s a Panther. The rumours start themselves.”
“Fine, take his side,” she huffed.
Tim smiled, amused. “I’m not taking his side. I’m just sayin’ Seven wouldn’t say that about you whether it was true or not. He’s a gentleman.”
“Hmm, a gentleman,” replied Julie sarcastically. “I guess it takes one to know one.”
“Hey, I get that you’re mad ‘cause people are talking, but you’re the one who dumped him.”
“Yeah, he seems really heartbroken about it,” she snapped.
“Oh, so that’s what this is about. The hot Mexican maid.”
“She’s not a maid, she’s a nurse, and I’m pretty sure she’s Guatemalan.”
“Whatever, she’s hot.”
Julie glared at him incredulously for a moment before she spoke again. “Tyra was right. You are terrible at this.”
“At what?”
“At being a friend,” she said, standing up and walking away from the table. “Figure out the rest of the assignment yourself.”
Julie slammed her bedroom door and flopped out on her bed, biting her lip to keep from crying. She hated this - the way it welled up suddenly and there was nothing she could do to stop it, and how she didn’t even really know what she was so sad and angry about. She was driving herself crazy lately; no wonder no one else could stand her.
Dimly she heard Tim’s chair scrape across the floor, and she waited to hear the sound of the front door and his truck. She was surprised when instead there was a soft knock on her bedroom door and the sound of Tim’s gruff voice on the other side.
“Jules?”
“What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
“Whatever.”
Tim opened the door and stepped into her room. Jules sat up and crossed her legs, looking down at her lap.
“I’m a jerk,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she sniffed. “I’m just really messed up about Matt still, and then this whole gossip thing, and last night on my first shift he and Carlotta came in and were sitting there all lovey-dovey in their stupid booth... It sucks.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting down on the corner of her bed. “Didn’t mean to make it worse.”
“You didn’t, not really.”
They were silent for a moment before Julie spoke again.
“Have you ever had your heart broken?” she asked, looking up at him.
He nodded, looking down at her carpet.
“Does it stop hurting? Even when you’re the one who messed everything up and you wish you could just go back and make a different choice?”
“Yeah, eventually.”
“How do you make it stop hurting?”
“Look,” he said, “You just gotta get over it. It didn’t work out. It hurts like hell and it sucks to see him moving on to someone else, but you just gotta forget about it.”
She smiled, sniffling and wiping her tears from her cheeks. “Is that the Tim Riggins philosophy of life?”
“Damn straight,” he said, smiling back at her.
Slowly Julie realised how close they were sitting on her bed, facing one another and smiling like a couple of idiots. She could smell the sweat and the grass on him, and see the little flecks of colour in his hazel eyes.
She pulled back and glanced around her room, laughing nervously.
“I feel so stupid, crying in front of you. Ugh, don’t tell anyone.”
He said nothing, merely nodded.
Julie glanced back at her alarm clock, seeing that it was almost time for their tutoring session to end.
“God, even I’m sick of your English class. Want to just go play ping-pong? My parents will be home in a while, and mom’s bringing pizza.”
“Sure,” he said, standing up. With her still seated on the bed, he seemed about ten feet tall to Julie. “But I hope you’re prepared to have your ass handed to you.”
“Um, if you say so, but you should probably be aware that I am an amazing ping-pong player. Seriously. I don’t wanna brag or anything, but I’m the best who’s ever lived.”
“I guess we’ll have to see about that, Taylor.”
***
Julie fanned herself with the magazine she was reading, pushing her sunglasses back up the bridge of her sweaty nose. She couldn’t believe it was still this hot in October.
She was sitting on the hot metal of the bleachers, the late afternoon sun beating down on her. She had finished her homework early, so she had come down to the field to wait for Tim to drive them back to her place for their tutoring session. At the moment, her father was putting his players through a series of gruelling drills, badgering them all the while. Julie sighed and fanned the magazine a little harder.
Matt in particular seemed to be bearing the brunt of Coach Taylor's apoplexy, Julie noted. He had the quarterback running twice as hard as anyone else.
Julie's attention was drawn away from the boy wearing number 7 by the boy wearing number 33, who seemed to be waving at her. Glancing around to see if he was waving at someone else and finding the bleachers almost empty, Julie tentatively raised her hand in response. Tim waved again once, then got his head back into practice and mowed down a couple of players. Julie smirked, and reopened her magazine.
A few minutes later, the bleachers clanged loudly as Tim, helmetless, climbed to where she was sitting. Julie looked up to see a paper cup of Gatorade being held out to her.
"Thanks, Tim," she said, surprised at his thoughtfulness.
"No prob," he panted, gulping down his own Gatorade. "It's hotter than a crotch out here."
"Nice," Julie replied, wrinkling her nose.
"Shouldn't be too much longer, though, then we can get going."
"Yeah, whenever," Julie said, holding up her magazine. "I have some riveting, hard-hitting journalism about Brangelina to keep me occupied."
Tim looked at her blankly. "Is that like a country or something?" he asked.
"Brangelina?"
"Yeah."
"No, Brangelina is a portmanteau of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's names," Julie replied, smiling at his cluelessness. "It's the thing to do in all the crappy tabloids for celebrity couples, I guess. Like Bennifer -Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez."
"Hm," Tim said, mulling this over seriously. "So you and me, we'd be Tulie?"
Julie laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. Or Jimothy."
A whistle blew down on the field, and they both turned to see Coach Taylor looking up at them, hands on his hips.
"Riggins! Quit buggin' my daughter and get your ass down here!"
Tim stood up and began heading down the bleachers.
"Oh," he said, turning back. "Your dad says your mom wants us to pick up some Alamo Freeze on the way home."
"You're coming for dinner?"
"Yeah," Tim replied, squinting against the sun. "I guess so."
"Okay."
"Later, Jimothy."
Tim jogged down the rest of the stairs and out onto the field to rejoin his team, earning a hearty smack on the helmet from Coach Taylor for his wandering. Julie hid her smile behind her magazine, immersing herself once again in the exploits of the rich and famous.
Practice did not go on much longer, as Tim had predicted. Julie waited by Tim's big black Chevy for him to come out of the field house. He was nearly the last player out.
Julie rolled her eyes at him as he meandered his way to the truck, shouting goodbyes to his teammates.
"I think you seriously might actually be the slowest person on the face of the earth," Julie said as he walked up.
"I coulda skipped the shower," Tim said, throwing his bag in the truck bed and climbing into the cab.
"Ah," Julie replied, climbing in the passenger side. "If it's a choice between sitting in a stifling truck with you showered or unshowered after football practice, I'm willing to wait."
Tim started the truck and pulled out of the lot, heading towards the Alamo Freeze.
The breeze blowing in the open windows provided some relief from the heat, and they drove down Dillon’s main drag in a comfortable silence. Glancing over at Tim, Julie couldn’t help but notice his tanned skin was flushed from practice and his shower, and his long, damp hair was curling slightly around his ears as it dried.
Tim took his eyes off the road, noticing her stare, and Julie snapped her eyes back to the front.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Julie saw that Matt was already at the counter. Great, she thought. Yet another awkward exchange.
Before she could say or do anything, though, Tim was getting out of the truck.
“You stay here,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Julie was about to argue, but Tim gave her a knowing look.
“Okay,” she said, smiling at him before rattling off the family’s usual order and handing him the cash her father had given her.
Tim walked into the restaurant, and Julie put her sunglasses on once again. This allowed her to watch every minute gesture of Tim and Matt’s exchange, but each time Matt glanced uncertainly towards Tim’s truck, it looked like Julie was gazing down the road, bored to tears.
Eventually, Tim returned to the truck with two bags of food and a tray of drinks. He dropped the food unceremoniously in Julie’s lap and started the truck.
“I think Saracen thinks we’re going out,” Tim guffawed, pulling out onto the street with a squeal of his tires.
“Yeah, him and everyone else.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, just something Tyra said, that everyone’s going to think there’s something going on between us, because you’re...”
“Because I’m what?”
“Because you’re you,” Julie replied. “Sorry.”
Tim didn’t say anything, merely shrugged.
Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the Taylors’ to find that Coach and Mrs. Taylor had beaten them there.
Entering the house with food in tow, Julie called out a greeting while Tim closed the front door behind them.
“Hey y’all,” Tami called from the kitchen. “Come on in, I’m just getting little Gracie Bell all settled.”
Tim and Julie put the food down on the table, which was set for dinner.
“Plates?” Tim whispered to Julie, his eyebrows raised.
“I like to at least pretend it’s a wholesome, home-cooked meal,” Tami replied from the kitchen.
“She has the ears of a bat,” Julie said, laughing as Tim coloured a bit.
“How are you, Tim?” Tami asked, emerging from the kitchen with a happy and well-fed Gracie propped on her hip.
“I’m good, Mrs. Taylor, how are you?”
“Doin’ just fine, Tim,” she replied, setting Gracie into her high chair.
Coach Taylor came in from the back patio then, cordless phone in hand.
“Hey Dad,” Julie said, finding a seat at the table and starting to unpack the burgers and fries.
“Hey Julie, Tim,” the Coach replied, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “How was school?”
“It was fine,” Julie replied. “The usual.”
“Tim?”
“Yes, sir?”
“How was school today?
“Good.”
“You go to all your classes?
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Coach, sitting down at the head of the table. “Here, eat your burger.”
The Taylors and their guest spent the rest of the meal discussing their days, and the weather, and town gossip, and Tami even let a little bit of football talk go.
“Okay,” Julie said after she and Tim finished clearing the table, “We’re gonna go study. Tim’s got a test tomorrow.”
“Study where, sweetie?”
“My room,” Julie replied.
Tami threw a panicked look at her husband.
“Um,” she said, “Why don’t you two work at the table, and your father and I will just keep the volume on the TV real low, okay?”
Julie agreed, sending an exaggerated roll of her eyes in Tim’s direction. He didn’t acknowledge it, just frowned and looked down at his hands.
***
Tim closed his notebook and set it aside, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He'd been going over and over the notes that he and Julie had made in preparation for his test on A Separate Peace. He knew the story in and out, the characters, the themes, motifs, and images - all of it. For once, he felt prepared for a test. He felt like Mrs. Kramer could ask him anything about that book and he'd be able to write something down, at least.
He glanced at his clock - it was late. He wanted to try to get some sleep so he'd be well-rested for his test. This was all new to him, but Julie had assured him that if he studied hard and then relaxed and got some sleep, he'd be fine.
Julie seemed very confident about the test, but Tim was still anxious. He'd done fine on the quiz, but this test was worth more of his grade, and if he didn't do well, flunking the class and being kicked off the team would be a real possibility.
Tim didn't know what he'd do if that happened. He hated to think how disappointed Coach and Mrs. Taylor would be. How disappointed Julie would be.
It had been strange being at the Taylors’ for dinner again, welcomed into their warm little circle. All three of them bickered constantly, Gracie watching the volley of words with great curiosity. But it was always harmless; Tim had never heard anything said between the family members that was malicious or cruel. Every disagreement ended with a kiss and an “I love you”, even if the issue at hand had not yet been resolved.
It was different from Tim’s own family, to say the least.
Tim had never really known a girl like Julie before, either. Or perhaps he'd just never tried to get to know a girl like Julie before. Girls like Julie were the girls who wouldn't give Tim the time of day, if he was honest with himself. Julie was smart - really smart - and sceptical. She wasn't afraid to ask questions that shook things up and upset people. Tim couldn't think of too many other girls in town like that, except maybe Tyra. Tyra had always been smarter than she or anyone else gave her credit for, she was just bored and restless. Julie was softer and less pessimistic than Tyra. More trusting. A little dreamy, Tim had noticed.
She was a year younger than he was, but a million times smarter. Tim couldn't imagine Julie staying in Dillon any more than he could imagine himself ever leaving.
Turning away from his thoughts, Tim shoved some dirty clothes off his bed and, switching off his light, collapsed on top of the covers. He drifted in and out of sleep for a while before being wakened by a pounding on the front door.
"Billy?" he called. He heard a thump and a curse in the other room as Billy made his way to the front door.
The door creaked open and Tim could hear the muffled sound of two male voices, one Billy's. He couldn't make out the identity of the other one. The muffled voices became raised voices, and Tim got up.
"What don't you goddamn get?" That was Billy's voice.
Tim emerged from his bedroom in time for a beer bottle to fly across the room and smash against the wall next to his door.
Walt Riggins was standing in the front doorway, looking dishevelled. Billy stood a few feet away from him, his face red with rage.
"What's going on?" Tim asked. His voice sounded strangely small to his own ears.
"Hey there, Timmy!" his father said cheerfully. His voice was forced, clouded with alcohol. "How's football?"
"You can't stay here," Billy said, ignoring his father's greeting.
"Come on, Billy," his father urged, like it was no big deal. "Just for a couple of nights."
"No," Billy shouted. "No, goddamn it. You've caused enough trouble already."
"For Christ's sake, Billy, I'm your father."
"Oh, you're my father? You're my father. Some fucking father. Are you his father?" he barked, gesturing at Tim. "Are you? You want to know who his father is? I'm his goddamn father."
"How dare you speak to me that way, you little bastard?" Walt slurred. "I can still put you down when you need putting down, Billy."
Walt lurched drunkenly for Billy, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall.
Tim moved quickly and was across the room in a second, pulling his father off Billy. He barely registered the glass from the broken beer bottle which sliced his bare foot.
"Dad!" he shouted, heaving the drunken man off Billy. He was so intoxicated that he was practically boneless, but he was incredibly heavy, and the weight of him knocked Tim backwards a bit. Before Tim could regain his balance, he felt a fist connect with his left eye, the ring on his father's right hand splitting Tim's eyebrow open. Tim fell to the floor and stayed there, shaking with adrenalin and fear.
"Ungrateful little shit!" his father shouted. "You stay down, Tim!"
Tim hissed in pain, touching his eyebrow gingerly and feeling the warm, sticky blood begin to pour out of the cut. He hated head wounds. They always bled so much.
The brief silence that fell was broken by the sound of a gun being cocked. Struggling to see through the blood now running into his eye and down his face, Tim saw Billy facing his father, holding Tim's rifle. It had been his father’s gift to him on his ninth birthday.
“Get out,” Billy said, his voice quiet and flat.
Walt stood and stared Billy down defiantly, breathing hard. Tim looked back and forth between his father and his brother.
Finally, Walt stepped back and wiped his hand across his mouth.
“It's not worth it,” he said, glancing at Tim. He turned and walked out into the night, leaving the door open behind him.
After a minute, Billy closed the door, his shoes crunching in the broken glass. He turned and held a hand out to Tim, who took it and stood up.
“You all right?” Billy asked, looking carefully into Tim’s face.
“Think so,” Tim replied, feeling the wound in his eyebrow. “Might need stitches, though.”
“Yeah, you might,” Billy replied. “Let’s go get that looked at.”
Billy drove while Tim held an old t-shirt to his head to staunch the bleeding. Four stitches closed the wound, and on the way home, Billy turned into the parking lot of The Landing Strip.
After that, things got a little fuzzy.
Chapter 3
Author: lindentree
Rating: R (for the series; this part is just PG)
Character(s): Tim/Julie
Word Count: 4,859
Summary: After 2x11, "Jumping the Gun", Julie's parents come up with an appropriate punishment for her - tutoring Tim Riggins.
Chapter 1
Tim scanned the party restlessly. Some sophomore's parents had gone to Austin for the weekend, and most of Dillon had turned out to take advantage of the opportunity to party. The house was packed, drinks were plentiful, and the night was young.
Tim, to his great surprise, was totally bored.
He had spent the better part of the last hour watching his teammates do keg stands and body shots around the pool, participating only half-heartedly himself. He tired of this eventually and moved inside, but the party was no more appealing in the house.
Tim missed the old days, when he and Six and Lyla would show up at a party and it felt like everyone and everything revolved around just the three of them. They would drink and laugh and drink more, and everyone would look at them and smile, and Tim would have too many beers again and Six would laugh and Lyla would roll her eyes, but with fondness instead of disdain. Tim would wake up on the cold foyer floor of his house the next afternoon, the pattern of the tile imprinted on his cheek, and he would smile through the throbbing pain and nausea that followed, because the memories were hazy and golden, and memories were all he believed he had.
Now those memories seemed as altered as everything else. They shifted and changed in his mind so that they were no longer warm, but bittersweet at best. The three of them didn't know then all the things that would befall them, all the things they would do to one another. There was no one to blame for the former, but for the latter, Tim blamed only himself.
Shaking himself from his melancholy thoughts, Tim polished off the beer in his hand and let his eyes wander around the room at all the laughing, remote faces. If Jay or Lyla had been there... No. That wouldn't help. It would be worse. Less like being invisible, but so much worse.
Tim picked up his half-drunk six pack and headed for his truck. If he hurried, he could still make it home in time for Sports Center.
***
“Hey, Jules,” Tim called, his deep voice breaking through the between-classes hallway chaos.
Julie leaned into her open locker, hiding her smile. She didn’t want Tim to know that it secretly pleased her to be called by the nickname only her good friends and family usually used.
“Hey,” she replied, as he came to a stop next to her.
"You weren't at the party on Saturday," he observed.
"Uh, no. I'm still grounded," she replied. "There are no parties on my horizon."
"Oh, right," he remembered absently, the concept of being grounded utterly foreign to him. "You didn't miss much."
"Really? Everyone's been telling me that it was the most amazing night ever."
Tim shrugged, then remembered why he had come over to talk to Julie, and pulled a sheet of paper out of his bag.
“Look,” he said, holding it out for her to see.
“Oh hey!” she said, taking the paper. It was his quiz on A Separate Peace, and at the top was a respectable B- in red ink. “Not bad!” She smiled.
“I know,” he replied, smiling back. “Kinda took me by surprise. I’ve got a test on it next week, though - this was just the reading quiz.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “We’ll start going over it.”
“Sounds good,” he replied.
“Hey, that reminds me! Guess who the newest waitress at the Dillon Applebee’s is?”
“Right on,” he smiled. “You’re gonna make killer tips.”
“Thanks,” she beamed. “I hope it won’t conflict too much with tutoring, but I was thinking that like, after practice sometimes you could maybe just sit in a booth in my section and I’ll bring you free Cokes and you can work and I’ll, you know, supervise you or whatever. What do you think?”
“Sounds good to me, as long as it’s free beer instead of free Coke. There's a lot of sugar in Coke. I’m trying to watch my figure.”
“Mmm, no. Sorry. Don’t think so,” Julie smiled.
“It was worth a try. See you later, Jules,” he said, turning and heading down the hallway in the direction of the football field.
Julie smiled at his retreating back, and resisted the urge to go gloat to Mrs. Kramer.
***
Lois and Julie were studying for their upcoming calculus test in the library, but Julie was having a hard time focusing. Her first shift at Applebee’s was that evening, right after school, just in time for the dinner rush. She would be training with Tyra and wouldn’t have to be a full-fledged waitress right away, but still. She was nervous, and it was distracting her.
“Okay, I can’t stand it anymore,” Lois whispered suddenly.
“I’m sorry,” Julie hissed back. “I’m just really nervous about my first shift tonight.”
“What?” Lois whispered, frowning in confusion. “No, that’s not it. I overheard something today, and I didn’t think I should tell you, but it’s driving me crazy.”
“What is it?” Julie asked, putting her pen down and leaning closer.
“Okay, so I was cutting through the field after my free period, and a few of the Panthers were sitting in the bleachers.”
“Right. Which Panthers?”
“Ugh, how should I know? Big, dumb guys. Football players.”
“Okay, okay. What did they say?”
“Well, I didn’t hear all of it, but I stopped to listen because I heard your name. Basically they were talking about you and Matt, and about how nobody should date the coach’s daughter because she doesn’t put out, and how that’s why you and Matt broke up.”
Julie stared at her friend for a moment, her mouth hanging open. She could feel the heat of embarrassment rising in her face.
“Oh my god,” she whispered. “If that’s what they’re saying on the football team...”
“Then that’s what everyone’s saying,” Lois finished. “Sorry, Jules.”
“No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. I’m glad you told me. It’s better if I at least know what everyone’s saying about me behind my back, right?” She stood suddenly, shoving her books into her bag.
“I’d better go,” Julie said, rushing away from the table. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
***
Julie got through her very first shift without incident, trying to put the whole Matt thing out of her mind. Her evening went from bad to worse, however, when Matt and Carlotta came into the restaurant and were seated in the section next to hers, and she had to spend the rest of the night pretending to concentrate on Tyra’s lessons about how to resist the urge to dump drinks on rude customers.
By the end of the night she was exhausted and overwhelmed, and gratefully accepted a ride home from Tyra. They parked in the driveway, and Tyra killed the engine and turned to Julie.
“So, seriously. What’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?” Julie asked. “Did I screw something up?”
“What, at work?” Tyra replied. “No, you did fine. There’s just obviously something bothering you.”
Julie sighed, blowing her long bangs out of her eyes. “Do you really want to hear it?”
“Of course,” Tyra said.
“Okay, you know the whole Matt thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, apparently Matt has been telling the story a little differently when he’s been talking to the Panthers, because Lois overheard a couple of them saying that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out.”
“Ouch,” Tyra said, with a wince.
“Yeah. They were all, ‘Oh, that’s why you don’t date the coach’s daughter, ha ha!’ or whatever,” Julie said, doing her best imitation of a dumb jock guffaw.
“That sucks,” Tyra agreed.
“Yeah, it does suck, and it’s really embarrassing, because now everyone thinks I’m the lame goody-good virgin daughter of the football coach. Ugh,” she groaned, covering her face with her hands.
“Just ignore them. Football players are idiots.”
“I just can’t believe he would do that to me, you know? I know he was mad, and he has a right to be, but why did he have to say that to the football players?”
Tyra shrugged, frowning. “I don’t know. Male ego crap, I guess.”
“I guess,” Julie said, looking down at her hands.
“Hey,” Tyra said, “Speaking of big, stupid football players, I heard that you’re tutoring Tim Riggins.”
“Yeah, I am. Just for English, though.”
“How’s that going?”
“It’s going all right, I think. He did pretty well on a quiz this week.”
“Incredible,” Tyra said, raising her eyebrows. “Watch yourself, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s Tim Riggins, and people are going to start talking.”
“That’s ridiculous. We’re just friends,” Julie protested.
“First of all, Tim Riggins doesn’t do friends. Trust me. Second, you and I both know it doesn’t matter, but if you’re spending that much time alone with him, the rumours are gonna start flying. I’m just sayin’.”
“Ugh,” Julie groaned, gathering her things. “Sometimes I really hate this town.”
The only comfort Tyra could offer was a sympathetic shrug.
***
Julie sat across from Tim in silence, trying to work on her own homework while he did some practice essay questions for his upcoming test.
Distracted, she was reading the same sentence in her biology textbook for the fourteenth time when she felt something touch her hand. Looking up, she saw it was the tip of Tim’s pen, and he was poking her with it while smiling mischievously at her and paying no attention whatsoever to his work.
“Oh my god,” Jules said, pulling her hand away. “You are like the world’s biggest five-year-old.”
“I’m bored,” he complained, sighing heavily.
“Right. Whereas I find sitting here watching you answer essay questions totally fascinating.”
“What’s your deal today, Taylor? Seriously. Is it that time of the month or something?”
Julie scowled at him. “That’s pretty crass, even for you.”
“Sorry,” he said, smiling unapologetically. “What’s with you, then?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Sure,” he said, throwing down his pen and leaning back in his chair, his hands behind his head. “Hit me.”
“Fine,” she replied, likewise dropping her pen and crossing her arms over her chest. “Yesterday Lois overheard two of your blockhead teammates discussing how Matt dumped me because I wouldn’t put out. If the football team is saying that, everyone’s saying that.”
“Yeah, pretty much everyone is saying that.”
“Well, it’s not true!” Julie hissed, indignant. “Matt didn’t dump me, I dumped him! I cannot believe he’s telling people that he dumped me, and for that reason!”
“He’s not, but that’s what people are saying.”
“How else would that rumour get started, if Matt didn’t?”
“He’s a Panther. The rumours start themselves.”
“Fine, take his side,” she huffed.
Tim smiled, amused. “I’m not taking his side. I’m just sayin’ Seven wouldn’t say that about you whether it was true or not. He’s a gentleman.”
“Hmm, a gentleman,” replied Julie sarcastically. “I guess it takes one to know one.”
“Hey, I get that you’re mad ‘cause people are talking, but you’re the one who dumped him.”
“Yeah, he seems really heartbroken about it,” she snapped.
“Oh, so that’s what this is about. The hot Mexican maid.”
“She’s not a maid, she’s a nurse, and I’m pretty sure she’s Guatemalan.”
“Whatever, she’s hot.”
Julie glared at him incredulously for a moment before she spoke again. “Tyra was right. You are terrible at this.”
“At what?”
“At being a friend,” she said, standing up and walking away from the table. “Figure out the rest of the assignment yourself.”
Julie slammed her bedroom door and flopped out on her bed, biting her lip to keep from crying. She hated this - the way it welled up suddenly and there was nothing she could do to stop it, and how she didn’t even really know what she was so sad and angry about. She was driving herself crazy lately; no wonder no one else could stand her.
Dimly she heard Tim’s chair scrape across the floor, and she waited to hear the sound of the front door and his truck. She was surprised when instead there was a soft knock on her bedroom door and the sound of Tim’s gruff voice on the other side.
“Jules?”
“What do you want?”
“Can I come in?”
“Whatever.”
Tim opened the door and stepped into her room. Jules sat up and crossed her legs, looking down at her lap.
“I’m a jerk,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she sniffed. “I’m just really messed up about Matt still, and then this whole gossip thing, and last night on my first shift he and Carlotta came in and were sitting there all lovey-dovey in their stupid booth... It sucks.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, sitting down on the corner of her bed. “Didn’t mean to make it worse.”
“You didn’t, not really.”
They were silent for a moment before Julie spoke again.
“Have you ever had your heart broken?” she asked, looking up at him.
He nodded, looking down at her carpet.
“Does it stop hurting? Even when you’re the one who messed everything up and you wish you could just go back and make a different choice?”
“Yeah, eventually.”
“How do you make it stop hurting?”
“Look,” he said, “You just gotta get over it. It didn’t work out. It hurts like hell and it sucks to see him moving on to someone else, but you just gotta forget about it.”
She smiled, sniffling and wiping her tears from her cheeks. “Is that the Tim Riggins philosophy of life?”
“Damn straight,” he said, smiling back at her.
Slowly Julie realised how close they were sitting on her bed, facing one another and smiling like a couple of idiots. She could smell the sweat and the grass on him, and see the little flecks of colour in his hazel eyes.
She pulled back and glanced around her room, laughing nervously.
“I feel so stupid, crying in front of you. Ugh, don’t tell anyone.”
He said nothing, merely nodded.
Julie glanced back at her alarm clock, seeing that it was almost time for their tutoring session to end.
“God, even I’m sick of your English class. Want to just go play ping-pong? My parents will be home in a while, and mom’s bringing pizza.”
“Sure,” he said, standing up. With her still seated on the bed, he seemed about ten feet tall to Julie. “But I hope you’re prepared to have your ass handed to you.”
“Um, if you say so, but you should probably be aware that I am an amazing ping-pong player. Seriously. I don’t wanna brag or anything, but I’m the best who’s ever lived.”
“I guess we’ll have to see about that, Taylor.”
***
Julie fanned herself with the magazine she was reading, pushing her sunglasses back up the bridge of her sweaty nose. She couldn’t believe it was still this hot in October.
She was sitting on the hot metal of the bleachers, the late afternoon sun beating down on her. She had finished her homework early, so she had come down to the field to wait for Tim to drive them back to her place for their tutoring session. At the moment, her father was putting his players through a series of gruelling drills, badgering them all the while. Julie sighed and fanned the magazine a little harder.
Matt in particular seemed to be bearing the brunt of Coach Taylor's apoplexy, Julie noted. He had the quarterback running twice as hard as anyone else.
Julie's attention was drawn away from the boy wearing number 7 by the boy wearing number 33, who seemed to be waving at her. Glancing around to see if he was waving at someone else and finding the bleachers almost empty, Julie tentatively raised her hand in response. Tim waved again once, then got his head back into practice and mowed down a couple of players. Julie smirked, and reopened her magazine.
A few minutes later, the bleachers clanged loudly as Tim, helmetless, climbed to where she was sitting. Julie looked up to see a paper cup of Gatorade being held out to her.
"Thanks, Tim," she said, surprised at his thoughtfulness.
"No prob," he panted, gulping down his own Gatorade. "It's hotter than a crotch out here."
"Nice," Julie replied, wrinkling her nose.
"Shouldn't be too much longer, though, then we can get going."
"Yeah, whenever," Julie said, holding up her magazine. "I have some riveting, hard-hitting journalism about Brangelina to keep me occupied."
Tim looked at her blankly. "Is that like a country or something?" he asked.
"Brangelina?"
"Yeah."
"No, Brangelina is a portmanteau of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's names," Julie replied, smiling at his cluelessness. "It's the thing to do in all the crappy tabloids for celebrity couples, I guess. Like Bennifer -Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez."
"Hm," Tim said, mulling this over seriously. "So you and me, we'd be Tulie?"
Julie laughed. "Yeah, I guess so. Or Jimothy."
A whistle blew down on the field, and they both turned to see Coach Taylor looking up at them, hands on his hips.
"Riggins! Quit buggin' my daughter and get your ass down here!"
Tim stood up and began heading down the bleachers.
"Oh," he said, turning back. "Your dad says your mom wants us to pick up some Alamo Freeze on the way home."
"You're coming for dinner?"
"Yeah," Tim replied, squinting against the sun. "I guess so."
"Okay."
"Later, Jimothy."
Tim jogged down the rest of the stairs and out onto the field to rejoin his team, earning a hearty smack on the helmet from Coach Taylor for his wandering. Julie hid her smile behind her magazine, immersing herself once again in the exploits of the rich and famous.
Practice did not go on much longer, as Tim had predicted. Julie waited by Tim's big black Chevy for him to come out of the field house. He was nearly the last player out.
Julie rolled her eyes at him as he meandered his way to the truck, shouting goodbyes to his teammates.
"I think you seriously might actually be the slowest person on the face of the earth," Julie said as he walked up.
"I coulda skipped the shower," Tim said, throwing his bag in the truck bed and climbing into the cab.
"Ah," Julie replied, climbing in the passenger side. "If it's a choice between sitting in a stifling truck with you showered or unshowered after football practice, I'm willing to wait."
Tim started the truck and pulled out of the lot, heading towards the Alamo Freeze.
The breeze blowing in the open windows provided some relief from the heat, and they drove down Dillon’s main drag in a comfortable silence. Glancing over at Tim, Julie couldn’t help but notice his tanned skin was flushed from practice and his shower, and his long, damp hair was curling slightly around his ears as it dried.
Tim took his eyes off the road, noticing her stare, and Julie snapped her eyes back to the front.
When they pulled into the parking lot, Julie saw that Matt was already at the counter. Great, she thought. Yet another awkward exchange.
Before she could say or do anything, though, Tim was getting out of the truck.
“You stay here,” he said. “I’ll go.”
Julie was about to argue, but Tim gave her a knowing look.
“Okay,” she said, smiling at him before rattling off the family’s usual order and handing him the cash her father had given her.
Tim walked into the restaurant, and Julie put her sunglasses on once again. This allowed her to watch every minute gesture of Tim and Matt’s exchange, but each time Matt glanced uncertainly towards Tim’s truck, it looked like Julie was gazing down the road, bored to tears.
Eventually, Tim returned to the truck with two bags of food and a tray of drinks. He dropped the food unceremoniously in Julie’s lap and started the truck.
“I think Saracen thinks we’re going out,” Tim guffawed, pulling out onto the street with a squeal of his tires.
“Yeah, him and everyone else.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, just something Tyra said, that everyone’s going to think there’s something going on between us, because you’re...”
“Because I’m what?”
“Because you’re you,” Julie replied. “Sorry.”
Tim didn’t say anything, merely shrugged.
Within a few minutes, they had arrived at the Taylors’ to find that Coach and Mrs. Taylor had beaten them there.
Entering the house with food in tow, Julie called out a greeting while Tim closed the front door behind them.
“Hey y’all,” Tami called from the kitchen. “Come on in, I’m just getting little Gracie Bell all settled.”
Tim and Julie put the food down on the table, which was set for dinner.
“Plates?” Tim whispered to Julie, his eyebrows raised.
“I like to at least pretend it’s a wholesome, home-cooked meal,” Tami replied from the kitchen.
“She has the ears of a bat,” Julie said, laughing as Tim coloured a bit.
“How are you, Tim?” Tami asked, emerging from the kitchen with a happy and well-fed Gracie propped on her hip.
“I’m good, Mrs. Taylor, how are you?”
“Doin’ just fine, Tim,” she replied, setting Gracie into her high chair.
Coach Taylor came in from the back patio then, cordless phone in hand.
“Hey Dad,” Julie said, finding a seat at the table and starting to unpack the burgers and fries.
“Hey Julie, Tim,” the Coach replied, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “How was school?”
“It was fine,” Julie replied. “The usual.”
“Tim?”
“Yes, sir?”
“How was school today?
“Good.”
“You go to all your classes?
“Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Coach, sitting down at the head of the table. “Here, eat your burger.”
The Taylors and their guest spent the rest of the meal discussing their days, and the weather, and town gossip, and Tami even let a little bit of football talk go.
“Okay,” Julie said after she and Tim finished clearing the table, “We’re gonna go study. Tim’s got a test tomorrow.”
“Study where, sweetie?”
“My room,” Julie replied.
Tami threw a panicked look at her husband.
“Um,” she said, “Why don’t you two work at the table, and your father and I will just keep the volume on the TV real low, okay?”
Julie agreed, sending an exaggerated roll of her eyes in Tim’s direction. He didn’t acknowledge it, just frowned and looked down at his hands.
***
Tim closed his notebook and set it aside, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He'd been going over and over the notes that he and Julie had made in preparation for his test on A Separate Peace. He knew the story in and out, the characters, the themes, motifs, and images - all of it. For once, he felt prepared for a test. He felt like Mrs. Kramer could ask him anything about that book and he'd be able to write something down, at least.
He glanced at his clock - it was late. He wanted to try to get some sleep so he'd be well-rested for his test. This was all new to him, but Julie had assured him that if he studied hard and then relaxed and got some sleep, he'd be fine.
Julie seemed very confident about the test, but Tim was still anxious. He'd done fine on the quiz, but this test was worth more of his grade, and if he didn't do well, flunking the class and being kicked off the team would be a real possibility.
Tim didn't know what he'd do if that happened. He hated to think how disappointed Coach and Mrs. Taylor would be. How disappointed Julie would be.
It had been strange being at the Taylors’ for dinner again, welcomed into their warm little circle. All three of them bickered constantly, Gracie watching the volley of words with great curiosity. But it was always harmless; Tim had never heard anything said between the family members that was malicious or cruel. Every disagreement ended with a kiss and an “I love you”, even if the issue at hand had not yet been resolved.
It was different from Tim’s own family, to say the least.
Tim had never really known a girl like Julie before, either. Or perhaps he'd just never tried to get to know a girl like Julie before. Girls like Julie were the girls who wouldn't give Tim the time of day, if he was honest with himself. Julie was smart - really smart - and sceptical. She wasn't afraid to ask questions that shook things up and upset people. Tim couldn't think of too many other girls in town like that, except maybe Tyra. Tyra had always been smarter than she or anyone else gave her credit for, she was just bored and restless. Julie was softer and less pessimistic than Tyra. More trusting. A little dreamy, Tim had noticed.
She was a year younger than he was, but a million times smarter. Tim couldn't imagine Julie staying in Dillon any more than he could imagine himself ever leaving.
Turning away from his thoughts, Tim shoved some dirty clothes off his bed and, switching off his light, collapsed on top of the covers. He drifted in and out of sleep for a while before being wakened by a pounding on the front door.
"Billy?" he called. He heard a thump and a curse in the other room as Billy made his way to the front door.
The door creaked open and Tim could hear the muffled sound of two male voices, one Billy's. He couldn't make out the identity of the other one. The muffled voices became raised voices, and Tim got up.
"What don't you goddamn get?" That was Billy's voice.
Tim emerged from his bedroom in time for a beer bottle to fly across the room and smash against the wall next to his door.
Walt Riggins was standing in the front doorway, looking dishevelled. Billy stood a few feet away from him, his face red with rage.
"What's going on?" Tim asked. His voice sounded strangely small to his own ears.
"Hey there, Timmy!" his father said cheerfully. His voice was forced, clouded with alcohol. "How's football?"
"You can't stay here," Billy said, ignoring his father's greeting.
"Come on, Billy," his father urged, like it was no big deal. "Just for a couple of nights."
"No," Billy shouted. "No, goddamn it. You've caused enough trouble already."
"For Christ's sake, Billy, I'm your father."
"Oh, you're my father? You're my father. Some fucking father. Are you his father?" he barked, gesturing at Tim. "Are you? You want to know who his father is? I'm his goddamn father."
"How dare you speak to me that way, you little bastard?" Walt slurred. "I can still put you down when you need putting down, Billy."
Walt lurched drunkenly for Billy, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the wall.
Tim moved quickly and was across the room in a second, pulling his father off Billy. He barely registered the glass from the broken beer bottle which sliced his bare foot.
"Dad!" he shouted, heaving the drunken man off Billy. He was so intoxicated that he was practically boneless, but he was incredibly heavy, and the weight of him knocked Tim backwards a bit. Before Tim could regain his balance, he felt a fist connect with his left eye, the ring on his father's right hand splitting Tim's eyebrow open. Tim fell to the floor and stayed there, shaking with adrenalin and fear.
"Ungrateful little shit!" his father shouted. "You stay down, Tim!"
Tim hissed in pain, touching his eyebrow gingerly and feeling the warm, sticky blood begin to pour out of the cut. He hated head wounds. They always bled so much.
The brief silence that fell was broken by the sound of a gun being cocked. Struggling to see through the blood now running into his eye and down his face, Tim saw Billy facing his father, holding Tim's rifle. It had been his father’s gift to him on his ninth birthday.
“Get out,” Billy said, his voice quiet and flat.
Walt stood and stared Billy down defiantly, breathing hard. Tim looked back and forth between his father and his brother.
Finally, Walt stepped back and wiped his hand across his mouth.
“It's not worth it,” he said, glancing at Tim. He turned and walked out into the night, leaving the door open behind him.
After a minute, Billy closed the door, his shoes crunching in the broken glass. He turned and held a hand out to Tim, who took it and stood up.
“You all right?” Billy asked, looking carefully into Tim’s face.
“Think so,” Tim replied, feeling the wound in his eyebrow. “Might need stitches, though.”
“Yeah, you might,” Billy replied. “Let’s go get that looked at.”
Billy drove while Tim held an old t-shirt to his head to staunch the bleeding. Four stitches closed the wound, and on the way home, Billy turned into the parking lot of The Landing Strip.
After that, things got a little fuzzy.
Chapter 3