Copyright(C)2022KandiSteiner
Allrightsreserved.
Nopartofthisbookmaybeusedorreproducedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronicormechanical,includingphotocopying,recording,orbyanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystemwithoutpriorwrittenconsentoftheauthorexceptwherepermittedbylaw.
Thecharactersandeventsdepictedinthisbookarefictitious.Anysimilaritytorealpersons,livingordead,iscoincidentalandnotintendedbytheauthor.
PublishedbyKandiSteiner
EditedbyElaineYork/AllusionPublishing
CoverPhotographybyRenSaliba
CoverDesignbyKandiSteiner
FormattingbyElaineYork/AllusionPublishingDedication
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-One
Epilogue
TheWrongGame–Prologue
TheWrongGame–ChapterOne
MorefromKandiSteiner
Acknowledgements
AbouttheAuthorTothegirlswhoseetheboxsocietyhasplacedthemin
andthenworkmercilessly
totearthatmotherfuckertopieces—
thisone’sforyou.Giana
ItwasonthemostbeautifuldaythatIfellvictimtoClayJohnson’spost-breakupmeltdown.
Thesummersunwashighandbrightinthesky,warmonmyskinasIbouncedacrosstheNorthBostonUniversityfootballfieldwithmyiPadintow,checkingoffthelistofplayersIneededtopulloverforinterviewsafterthefirstdayoffallcamp.Fallwaswhisperingonthecoolbreeze,thefaintscentofapplesandfreshturfpromisinganotherexcitingyearfortheNBURebels.
Thistimelastyear,Ihadbeenananxiousmess—notthatIdidn’tstillshakelikealeafanytimeItriedtoorderasix-foot-threefootballplayeraround.Butnow,Iatleasthadthemediocreconfidenceofhavinganinternshipundermybelt,ofbeinghiredonparttimeastheteam’sPublicRelationsAssistantCoordinator.
Thiswasmyteam,myyeartoshine,andmytimetostepoutoftheshadows.
MycaramelcurlsbouncedasIsweptacrossthefield,tappingshouldersoftheplayersIneededanddirectingthemwheretogo.Ionlyblushedthreetimes,andImanagedtospeakjustabovemouse-levelandkeepeyecontactwithallofthem.
Progress.
I’dearnedmyspothere,justliketheseplayerswouldfightfortheirspotsontheteamthisseason.
Confidence,Ihoped,wouldcomewithtime.
IsmiledwhenIsawarequestforClayJohnsononmylist,oneoftheeasiestplayerstocoachintheartofmediarelations.Hewasanatural,goofyandcharismatic,andyetsomehoweloquentandrefinedinhisresponses.Hespokeoncameralikehewasathirty-two-year-oldprofessionalratherthananineteen-year-oldstudentathlete,andhewasnicetome—respectful,attentive.Infact,hewasusuallytheonewhowouldsocktheotherplayersinthearmtomakethempayattentiontomeifmysoftrequestforthemtofollowmedidn’twork.
Plus,hewasthedefinitionofmancandy,andwasabsolutelyirresistiblenomatterwhatgenderorsexualorientationoneidentifiedwith.
Ispottedhimeasilyamongtheseaofplayers,notjustbecauseofhisheight,butbecausehe’dalreadystrippedhispracticejerseyoffandhismusclesweregleamingintheNewEnglandsun.Itriedmybestnottodrooloverthesmoothhillsofhisabdomen,nottotracethebeadsofsweatastheyslickedovertheswellofhispecsandrandownthelengthofhim.Thosebroadshouldersweretanandtight,trapsotherworldly,likehewasanMMAfighterinsteadofacollegesafety.
Itwasonlytwentysecondsorso,theamountoftimeIallowedmyselftomarvelatthecuttingedgeofhisjaw,thesharpbridgeofhisnose,thedampmopofcoffee-brownhairthatheabsentmindedlyranahandthrough.Thatmotionhadhisbicepinvoluntarilyflexing,andaflashofthecoverofmycurrentmafiaromancereadassaultedmeatthesight.
Icouldpictureit,ClayJohnsonstranglingamanwithhisbarehands,holdinghimoffthegroundwiththosebicepsbulging,severeeyespromisingdeathtothepunkunlesshetoldClaywhatheneededtoknow.
Ablink,andIwasbackonthefield,professionalasIapproachedhim.
“Clay,”Isaid,thoughIknewitwastooquiet,especiallywhentheguysaroundhimbrokeoutinafitoflaughteroversomething.
Ismiled,tuckingawildcurlbehindoneearbeforeIspokeup.
“Clay,Ineedyouformedia.”
Hiswhettedgreeneyessnappedtomine,effectivelystealingmynextbreathwiththegesture.Wherethoseeyeswereusuallywarmandcrinkledattheedges,outlinedingoldandunderlinedwithawide,infectioussmile,todaytheywere…lifeless.
Dull.
Frigid.
Almost…mean
Beforehehadthechancetorespond,Iwassweptoffmyfeetinasweatyhugfrombehind.
“Giana!Mygirl.Don’tyoumeanit’smeyou’relookingfor?”
LeoHernandezspunmearound,andIknewbetterthantofighthim.Isimplywaiteduntilmyfeetwerebackonthegroundbeforereadjustingmyglassesupthebridgemynose.
“You’llgetyourtimeinthespotlight,Leo.Don’tworry.”
“Neverdo,”hesaidwithawink.
LeoHernandezwasatoo-sexy-for-his-own-goodrunningback,andacertifiedpaininmyass.Itwasn’tthathewasbadoncamera—quitethecontrary,actually.Itwashisextracurricularactivitiesoffthefieldthatkeptmebusy.Theboywouldn’tknowhowtosaynotoagorgeousblondeandalatenightout,eveniftherewasanNFLcontractandafive-million-dollarsigningbonusinthemix.
WhenIturnedbacktoClay,itwasjustintimetowatchhimashebrushedpastmeonhiswaytothelockerroom.
Iscamperedtocatchupwithhim.“Uh,actually,themediaisalllinedupoverthere,”Isaid,pointingtotheotheredgeofthestadium.
“Don’tcare.”
Istoppedatthewords,athowcoldtheywere,shiveringabitandwatchingthemusclesofhisbackebbandflowbeforeIshookmyheadandskippedtocatchuptohimagain.
“Itwon’tbelong,justaquickfive-minuteinterview.”
“No.”
Ichuckled.“Look,Igetit.Firstdayofcampistough.It’shotouthere,you’vegotCoachwatching,I—”
“No,youdon’tgetit,”hesaid,whippingarounduntilIslammedrightintohissweatychest.Hedidn’tattempttocatchmeasIbouncedback,butIrightedmyself,adjustingmyglassestolookhimintheeyesashecontinued.“You’renotaplayer.You’renotpartoftheteam.You’reapartofthemedia.AndIdon’twanttofuckingtalktoyou,orthem,oranyonerightnow.”
Hurtflashedthroughmeasheturned,butitonlylingeredamomentbeforeIblewoutabreathandletthepaingowithit.
Thiswaspartofmyjob,dealingwithathleticbabiesandtheirmoodswings.
Igotthis.
IclearedmythroatasIcaughtuptohim.“Well,I’msorryyou’rehavinganoffday,butunfortunately,thisispartofyourroleasanathleteatNorthBostonUniversity.So,youcaneitherdothisveryshortinterview,orexplaintoCoachwhyyoucouldn’tbebotheredto.”
Thatmadehimstop,andIwatchedhisfistscurlathissidesbeforeheturnedaround,veinspoppinginhisneck.Hecrackedsaidneckandthenstormedrightpastme,onhiswaytothemedialine.
Ismiledinvictory.
Atleast,untilIfollowedhimtotheperfectlynicefemalereporterfromESPNandwatchedinhorrorashemadeanassofhimself,theteam,andmoreimportantly?
Me.
“Clay,afterthatbowlgamelastseasonthathadusontheedgeofourseat,we’veallgotbigexpectationsforNBUfootball.Howareyoufeelingabouttheseason?”
SarahBlackwellsmiledafreshlywhitened,toothygrinupatClay,anglingthemicrophoneinherhandtowardhisbeautifulmouth—whichwascurrentlyinaflat,straightline.
“Ifeellikewecouldfocusalotmoreonfootballifwedidn’thavetowasteourtimetalkingtoreporterslikeyou.”
Myeyesshotopen,heartcatchinginmychestasSarahfrowned,blinked,lookedatmeandbackatthecamerabeforeloweringthemic.
“Weknowyou’reallexcitedabouttheseason,Icompletelyunderstandthedesiretokeepyourfocuslockedin,”shesaidwithaforcedlaugh,trainedandpoiseddespiteClay’sdeadpanexpression.“So,thehotnewslastseasonwasaboutRileyNovo,thefemalekickerforNBU.She’sbackthisseason,andthistime,datingafellowteammate—ZekeCollins.Tellus,doyouthinkthatwillbeadistractionfortheteam?”
Claywasalreadyspeakingbeforeshecouldlifthermic.“Ithinkourdatinglivesshouldn’tmattertoanyonewhoisn’tsadandlonelyanddesperatetohaveanopinionaboutsomeoneelse’srelationshipssotheycanavoidtheshitshowoftheirown.”
Sarahtriedtoripthemicrophonebackdownbeforehecouldcurse,butIknewitwastoolate,andshechuckledthroughanotherforcedjokewithanawkwardsmileinplacebeforedismissingus.Oncethecamerawasoff,sheglaredatClay.“Realprofessional.”
ButClayonlylookeddownatme.“Anythingelse?”
Isworemyeyetwitched,butIsmileddespiteit,stomachinknotsasItriedconjuringupexcusesfortheass-skinningIalreadyknewwouldbecomingfrommyfire-breathingboss.
“Wehaveastudentherefromthecollegenewsteam,”Isaid,guidinghimalongthefencebehindreportersinterviewingotherteammates.“He’snice.Andfresh,”Isaid,stoppingClayshortofwheretheyoungmanwaited.Iloweredmyvoice.“Look,Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,butifyoucan’thandle—”
ClayshookmeoffbeforeIcouldfinish,aheadnodtothekidwiththemicandtheslightlylargeronewiththecamerabehindhimhisonlygreeting.
Itwasn’tasbadastheonebefore,butitwasnowhereneartheClayJohnsonIknewoflastseason.
Hebarelyansweredthequestions,retortedwithsmartassremarksmorethananythingofcontext,andwhenthepoorkidtriedtograpplewithhisnotesandfigureoutwhatelsetoaskhim,Claycurtlysaid,“Wedonehere?”
Andthenturnedandleftbeforethepoorthingcouldanswer.
Afterprofuselyapologizing,IcalledinafavorfromRileyandZeke,askingthemtotalktobothreportersabouttheirsummertogetherandhowthisyearisdifferentplayingnotonlyasteammates,butasacouple.Theywerehotnewsincollegefootball,hadbeeneversincetheymadeTwittermeltdownafterthebowlwinlastyearbymakingoutonthefield.
Fortunatelyforme,theywereinahappymoodandbothverywell-spokenoncamera.
IsmiledandgavethemathumbsupasIlistenedbehindthecameraoperator,allthewhileburningholesintoClay’sbackashestompedtowardthelockerroomlikeachild.
Whentheinterviewwasover,Rileythankedthereporterswithmebeforepullingmetotheside.Herlong,chestnuthairwaslinedwithgoldenstreaksbleachedfromplayinginthesun.Shepulleditupintoahigh,tightponytail,acceptingakissonthecheekfromZekeandwaitinguntilhewasoutofearshotbeforeshespoke.
“Awordofadvice,”shesaid,loweringhervoiceasshelookedaroundtomakesurenoonewaslistening.“MightwanttolayoffJohnsonforawhile.HimandMaliyahjustbrokeup.”
Iblanched.“What?!”
Itwasuselesstryingtokeeptheshockfrommyface.Ididn’tknowClaywell,butIdidn’thavetotoknowthathishighschoolsweetheartmeanteverythingtohim.Hetotedheraroundhereeverytimeshevisitedourcampuslastseason,andIdistinctlyrememberedhavingahardtimepeelinghimoffherforaninterviewafteroursecondhomegamewin.HepostedaboutherallthetimeonhisInstagram,andthecaptionswerealwaysveryclearabouthowhefelt.
Hewasgoingtomarryher.
Butnow,theywerenothing.
Rileyjustnodded,browsbendingtogether.“Iknow.PoorkidwastalkingtoZekelastsemesterabouthowhethoughtshewastheone.”Shesighed,bothofuswatchingClaydisappearintothestadiumhallthatledtothelockerroom.“He’sbeenamess.”
Myshouldersslumped.“Iknewsomethinghadtohavehappened.Hewasalwayssohappylastseason,so…fulloflife.”
“Well,Idon’tseehimbeingthatwayforawhile.”Rileyswallowed,stilllookingwhereClayhadvanished.“Theywerehighschoolsweethearts.”
Isighed,wishingIcouldfindsomeempathy.Ihadneverdatedanyone,letalonebeeninlove,andsotheonlythingIfoundsimmeringinmychesttowardClayinthatmomentwasadistantsortofsympathy.
AndalittlefrustrationthatI’dhavetodealwiththefallout.
“I’mgoingtohavetosetupatrainingwithhim,”Isaid.“He’llstillhavetotalktothemedia,andCoachwillhavehisassandmineifhepullssomethinglikethatagain.”
Rileylookedatmelikeshepitiedme,reachinguptosqueezemyshoulder.Beforeshecouldwalkoff,Icalledout.
“Anyadvice?”
Sheshrugged,asadattemptatasmileonherface.“Makesurethere’sbeeraround.”Giana
CharlotteBankswasthecanvaslandscapepictureofcoolasshesatbehindherdeskthenextafternoon,eyesonhercomputerscreenwhilethetapeofClay’sinterviewplayedback.Thatscreenwasangledtowardme,too,soIcouldwatchfromwhereIsatoppositeher—likeIhadn’treplayeditahundredtimesalready
IfIexpectedablowout,Ididn’tknowmyboss.Mrs.Banksappearedalmostboredasshewatchedthescreen,occasionallylookingdownathermanicurednailsandpickingattheskinaroundthembeforeshe’dfoldherarmsoverherchestoncemore.Hershortcopperhairwasstraightenedandstyledtoperfection,thestrandsframinghersharpchin,notastrandoutofplace.Herlipswerepaintedamutedred,andherwide,goldeneyeswerelikethatofacatlazilywatchingamousestrugglewhereshehasitbythetail.
Iswallowedwhenthevideostopped,animageofClay’suncharacteristicfrownfrozeninplace.Ichancedalookatmyboss,whosimplyblinkedandwaitedformetospeak.
“I’msorry,”Istarted,butsheheldupahand,hervoicewarmandsmoothlikedrippinghotfudgeasshespoke.
“NotwhatIwanttohear.Tryagain.”
Iclosedmymouth,consideringbeforeIopeneditoncemore.“Clayandhisgirlfriendbrokeup,whichIwasunawareofuntilaftertheinterview.He’sclearlyinnoheadspacetobeoncamera,andItakefullresponsibilityfornotrealizingthatuntilitwastoolate.”
Charlotteetchedabrow,unfoldingherarmsandturninghercomputerscreenbackaroundbeforeshewasscribblingonanotepadonherdesk.
“Goodinformationtoknow,”shesaid,notlookingatme.“ButstillnotwhatIwantedtohear.”
Ifoughttheurgetodeflate,usingeverymuscleliningmyspinetokeepitstraight,mychinraised,eyesonher.
Sheglancedupatmebeforesighing.“Canyouhandleitornot?”
Ibristledattheaccusation,atthefactthatsheevenhadtoask.Butthenagain,Icouldn’tblameher—notafterwhatshe’dhadtoworkwithsinceIfirstwalkedthroughherdoor.Ithadtakenallmyeffort,everysingleday,justtolooktheseguysintheeyeandspeakloudenoughtodirectthemwheretheyneededtobe.
I’dcomealongway,yes…butIcertainlyhadawaystogo.
“Ofcourse,”Ianswered,hopingmyconfidencewasconvincing.
“Good,thenwedon’tneedtodiscussitfurther.”Shetookasipofherroom-temperaturewater—Iknewitwasroomtempbecauseithadbeenpartofmyjobasinternlastyeartomakesureitwas.“I’mdependingonyoutohandlethiskindofworksoIdon’thavetowastemytimeorenergy.Usetheinternifyouneedto.”
Theintern.
Charlottecouldn’tevenbebotheredtocallherbyhername.
Itwasthesamewayforme,untilIprovedmyselfworthylastfall.AlthoughIwasinhotwaterbeforethisseasonhadevenstarted,soIimaginedlastyeardidn’tmattermuch.Still,Charlottehadtoseesomethinginme—potential,grit,tenacity—otherwise,Iwouldn’tbehere.
Iheldontothatasshecontinued.
“CoachSandershasinformedmethathe’dliketheteamtobemoreinvolvedingivingbacktothecommunity,”shesaidwithoutwaitingforaresponsefromme,andIknewthequickchangeinsubjectmeantthatsheexpectedmetotakecareoftheClaysituation—whateverthatlookedlike.“Hegavesometouchingsobstoryforhisreasoning,butIknowwithoutneedingclarificationthatitwillmaketheteamlookgood—andhimbyproxy.So,”shesaid,clickinghermouseafewtimesuntilmyphonevibratedwithacalendaralert.“Savethedateforateamauction.”
“Whatwillwebeauctioningoff?”Iasked,addingtheeventwithatapofmythumb.
“Theplayers.”
Icoughedonalaugh,butcovereditasclearingmythroatwhenIsawCharlottewasserious.
“Itwillbeadateauction,withthedateactivitiesdonatedbyvariouspeopleinthecommunitywhowanttotakepart,andallthefundsraisedbeinggiventocharity.”
“Whichcharity?”
Shewavedherhand.“Idon’tknow,youpickone.”
Ismiled,addingthetasktomyto-dolist.
“Youcango,”Charlottesaidnext,andthenshebalancedherdaintyelbowonherdesk,fingerdirectedatme.“GetJohnsonundercontrol.I’minvitingSarahBlackwellbackforanexclusiveonChartDayandIwanthimhappyasaclamtospeakwithher.”
Inodded,excusingmyselfwithoutanyverbalconfirmationbecauseIknewnonewasneeded.AndassoonasIduckedoutofherofficeandclosedthedoorbehindme,Itookalong,sweetbreaththatdidn’tburnfromthesmokemydragonofabosslovedtofilltheroomwith.
Inthenextbreath,determinationsankin,andIsetmystridetowardtheweightroom.
Allmylife,I’dfeltthedesiretothinkdifferently,toactdifferently,tochallengemyselfandtheworldaroundme.
Growingup,Iwasleftintheshadows,theunremarkablemiddlechildinastackoffiveannoyinglytalentedkids.Ihadtwooldersistersandtwoyoungerbrothers,andassuch,Islippedintothebackgroundofourfamilywithoutmuchconsequence.
Iwasthethirdgirl,unremarkableinitsownright,sentencedtowearhand-me-downclothesandneverhavethechancetoformanidentityofmyown.CouplethatwiththefactthatIhadtwobrothersbornnottoolongafterme,theboysmyparentshadprayedfor,andyoucouldsayIwasasinvisibleasthedustcollectingonthetopofaceilingfan.IonlyseemedtobenoticedwhenIgotintheway,whenmypresencebecameanuisanceorflaredupsomeone’sallergies.
Still,Ididn’tfeelbittergrowingup.Thecomparisongameneverreallygottome.Ithoughtitwasspectacularthatmyoldestsister,Meghan,excelledatsoftballandwentontoplayincollege,receivingafull-ridescholarship.Iwasinaweofmysecondoldestsister,Laura,gettingintoMIT.Iknewwithoutadoubtthatshe’dchangetheworldwithherpassionforscienceengineering.AndIhadnothingbutloveformyyoungerbrothers,TravisandPatrick,whowerelittleinventorssettoappearonSharkTankoncetheygottherightmillion-dollarideahammeredout.
Ifanything,Ikindoflovedexistingintheforgottenspacein-between.NoonebotheredmewhenIlockedmyselfinmyroomfortheweekend,readingandwatchingdocumentaries.Withallmyparents’attentiononmysiblings,Iwasfreetousemytimeexploringtheworldandwhatmakesittick,whichwasmyfavoritethingtodo—asidefromgettinglostinasmutty,tabooromancenovel.
ItdrovemymominsanethatIdidn’thavedirectionwhenIleftforcollege.Shealsodidn’tparticularlylikethatI’dpulledawayfromthechurchwhenIwasinhighschool,thankstomyself-educationinreligionandnewfoundquestionsthatneithershenorourpastorcouldanswer.AddinthefactthatshefoundagrittymotorcycleclubromancestuffedundermypillowandreadascenethatmadeherclutchherpearlsbeforedeclaringIwasbannedfromreadinganythinglikethiseveragain!AndIguessyoucouldsayweweren’texactlyclose.
But,tohercredit,shedidn’tspendmucheffortontryingtosteermetowardacareerpathortowardthechurch,notbeforeshe’dsighandgiveupandturnherfocusbacktooneofherGod-fearingchildrenwhohadagoodheadontheirshoulders.
Whatshecouldn’tsee,whatnoonecouldsee,wasthatIdidn’tknowwhatIwantedtodowithmylifeyetbecauseIdidn’tknowenoughaboutlifeitself.
I’dnevertraveledoutsideofNewEngland,neverhadaboyfriend,andneverevengottenclosetosecondbase,letalonetogoingalltheway.
TherewasstillsomuchoflifeIwantedtosoakupandstudybeforeIcommittedtomyroleinit,whichwasabigreasonwhyIpushedmyselfoutofmycomfortzonewhenIcametocollegeandpickedthemajorthatwasleastsuitedforme
PublicRelations.
Puttingme—thequiet,nerdyvirgin—inchargeofpublicperceptionjustseemedlikeadisasterwaitingtohappen.Butthat’swhyIlovedit.That’swhyitwasimportanttome.
Itwasunexpected,anddifferent,andchallenging.
AndIwouldn’tstopuntilI’dmasteredeveryaspectofit.Clay
IhadalotofexpectationsformysophomoreyearatNorthBostonUniversity.
Afterwinningourbowlgamelastseasonandhavingawinningrecordontopofit,IexpectedustobetheteamtocontendwithinTheBigNorthconference.Andafterhavingoneofthebestseasonsofmylife,Iexpectedtomakesaidteameasily,tostarteverygame,andtodemolishtherecordsI’dsetlastyear.Ialsoexpectedustowin,togetnotjustabowlgamethisseason,butoneofthebowlgames—theonesthatwouldserveassemi-finalsandtakeustotheNationalChampionshipGame.
WhatIhadnotexpectedwasformygirlfriendoffiveyearstodumpme.
AnytimeIthoughtofit,mychestcavedinonitself.Itfeltimpossible,howthegirlIloved,thegirlIthoughtIwouldmarry,couldwalkawayfrommesoeasily.Itwaslikebeingsafeonboardacruiseshiponemoment,baskinginthetropicalsun,onlytobethrownoverboardthenext—nothingtoholdonto,noonetohearmyscreamsastheshipcontinuedonitscourseandleftmebehindintheunrelentingwaters.
Whatwasworsewasthatitwasn’tjustabreakup—notthewaymostofmyfriendsknewthem,anyway.
MaliyahVailwasn’tjustmygirlfriend,shewasfamily.
Wegrewuptogether.Ourfamilieswereclose,weavedtogetherineverywaylikeathickblanket.Herdadandmydadwerebestfriendsincollege,andevenaftermyparentssplit,hermommadesuretokeepaneyeonmine,tomakesureshewasokay.
Whichshewasn’toften.
WhatIonceconsideredafairytalechildhoodwasdemolishedwithjustonedecision—myfather’s.Overnight,wewentfromahappyfamilyofthreetoabrokenfamilythatconsistedofmeandMom,andeverynowandthen,Dad.
Whenhewasn’tbusywithhisnewfamily,thatis—theonehe’deasilyreplaceduswith.
Maliyahhadbeenbymysidethroughallofit.Shewastherethroughtheepisodeswithmymom,whodidn’tknowhowtocopeafterthelossofhermarriageandtriedtofindsolaceintheworstkindofmenafter.SheunderstoodtheabandonmentIfeltfrommydad,andherownfathersteppedintotakehisplace,teachingmeallthethingsafathershouldhaveasIgrewup.Morethananything,shewastherethroughalltheupsanddownsofplayingfootball,remindingmeeverychanceshehadthatIwouldmakeitoneday,thatIwouldgopro.
Itdidn’tfeellikelosingmygirlfriend.
Itfeltlikelosingmyrightarm.
Itstillhadn’tsunkinthatwe’dfinallymadeitthroughagruelingyearoflong-distance—herinCaliforniawherewegrewup,mehereinMassachusetts—onlyforhertogetintoNBU,moveacrossthecountry,and…breakupwithme.
Nothingaboutitmadesense.I’dtriedcombingthrougheverywordofherbreakupspeechandhadcomeupemptyeachtimeItriedtofindreasoning.
“Whatwehadwasagreatfirstlove,Clay,butthat’sallitwas—afirstlove.”
Maliyah’sfacecrumpled,butnotinthewaythatsaidshewasactuallyhurtbythestatement.Itwasacollapseofpity,likeshewastellingalittlekidwhyhecouldn’tridethebigboyrollercoaster.
“Wemadeapromise,”Isaid,thumbingthepromiseringonmyfinger.We’dexchangedthematsixteen,apromisethatwe’dbetogetherforever—aweddingbandineverythingbutlaw.
ButwhenIreachedoutforhers,herfingerwasbare,thegoldbandnowhereinsight,andIswallowedasshepulledawaywithagrimace.
“Wewereyoung,”shesaid,asifthatmadeherbreakingmyheartreasonable,asifouragesomehowdisillusionedtheloveIfeltforher.
TheloveIthoughtshefeltforme.
“But,you’refinallyhere.You’reatmyschool.”
Thatmadeherfrown.“It’smyschool,too,now.I’monthecheerleadingsquad.AndIhave…goals.ThingsIwanttoaccomplish.”
Shecouldn’tlookatmewhenshesaidit,andmynoseflaredwithemotionthatIstruggledtokeepatbay.Iknewthatlook.ItwasthesameoneshegavewhenIboughtheradressthatshedidn’treallylike,butdidn’twanttotellmesobecauseitwouldhurtmyfeelings.Itwasthelookshegotfromherfather,CoryVail,apowerfultechlawyerinSiliconValleywhowasusedtogettingwhathewanted.
Andwhoexpectedhisdaughtertodothesame.
Itwaseasyenoughtoputthepiecestogether,andIsoberedattherealization.
“I’mnotgoodenough.”
Maliyahjustlookedattheground,unabletoevendenyit.
Andintheblinkofaneye,thegirlIthoughtI’dmarryandbuildalifewithwasabandoningme,justlikemyfatherhad—evenwhentheybothhadpromisedthey’dstay.
Iwasthecommondenominator.
WhatI’ddonehadn’tbeenenoughforeitherofthem.
“We’llbothbehappier,”shesaid,patronizingagainassherubbedmyarm.“Trustme.”
Thememorywaswipedfrommymindwiththehardsnapofadamptowelagainstmythigh.
“Argh!”
Icriedout,hissingatthestingitleftbehindasKyleRobbinshowledwithlaughter.Hebentatthewaist,thetowelhe’dwoundupandwhippedmewithfallingtothegroundintheprocess.
“Youwerezonedoutman,”hesaidthroughthelaughter.“Didn’tseethatshitcomingatall.”Hepoppedupthen,lookingacrosstheweightroomatanotherteammate.“Didyougetit?”
Beforewhoeverhe’dtaskedwithvideotapingtheprankcouldanswer,Igrabbedhimbytheneckofhistanktopandrippedhimdowntoeyelevel,holdinghimfirmwhenhetriedtosquirmaway.
“Deletethatshit,orIsweartoGod,Robbins,I’llgiveyouthebiggestwedgieofyourlifeandhangyoufromtheraftersbyyourshit-streaked,shreddingtightiewhities.”
Healmostlaughed,butwhenItwistedmyfistmore,intensifyingthegrip,hiseyesflashedwithterrorbeforehesmackedmyarmandIreleasedhim.HeandIbothknewIcouldhaveheldonlongerifI’dwanted.
“Damn,someone’sgottheirpantiesinatwist,”hemurmured.
Oneofourteammatesreturnedhisphonetohim,andIsnatcheditoutofhishandbeforehecouldwalkaway,deletingthevideomyselfbeforeItosseditbacktohim.
“Youusedtobefun,”hecommented.
“AndyouusedtohaveNovo’snameshavedintothesideofyourhead,”Ishotback,whichmadetheguysaroundusbreakoutinmuffledlaughterthattheydidasorryjobofhiding.
Kyle’sfaceturnedred,thememoryofhimlosingagameof500toourkickerlastseason,andthereforehavingtodowhatevertheteamdecidedaspunishmentwashingoverhisnarrowedgaze.
Buthejustsuckedhisteethandwavedmeoff,makinghiswayovertothebenchpress,anditfeltlikeaflyfinallyditchingmypicnicforsomeoneelse’s.
KyleRobbinswasaprick,andthefactthathe’dcashedinonthewholeName,ImageandLikenessthinganytimehecouldmeanthebroughtevenmoreattentiontothemediacircuswealreadyhadaroundusonanygivenday.Ihatedit,andonlytoleratedhimbecausehewasadamngoodtightendandonthesameteamasme.
Icrackedmyneckwhenhewasgone,catchingtheinquisitivegazeofourquarterbackandteamcaptain,HoldenMoore,asIsettledbackinplaceonthesquatpressmachine.
“Yougood?”heasked,rackingtheweightshe’dbeenusinglikehewasn’tallthatinterestedintheanswer.Iknewbetter,though.Holdenwasabornleader,oneofthefewplayersonthisteamIactuallylookedupto.Hewascheckinginnotbecausehewasnosy,butbecausehegaveadamn.
“Good,”wasmyonlyanswer,andthenIwasbackinposition,kickingintotheplatformuntilmylegswerestraight.Ireleasedthelatchontheweight,squattingmykneestowardmychestonaninhale,andgruntingasIextendedtopushtheweightbackup.
Afteranotherten-repset,Ilockedtheweightoncemore,sittingupandwipingmyforeheadwithatowel.
JustasapetitepairofsaddletanflatscametoastopbetweenmyNikes.
Myfeetdwarfedthoselittleshoes,atleasttwicethelengthandwidth,andIarchedabrowasmygazeclimbedupthelegstheywereattachedto.Thoselegswerecoveredinblackmeshtights,see-throughbutfortheareaswherethefabricwasthicker,creatingapolka-dotpattern.Thecornerofmymouthcurledinamusementwhenthosetightsendedatthehemofablackskirtwithacatnoseandwhiskersstitchedintothefront.
IknewthenthatitwasGianaJones.
Shewasalwaysdressedlikeaquirkylibrarian,likeamixbetweenanunandanaughtyschoolgirl.Forsomereason,I’dalwaysfounditirresistiblyadorable,howshemixedandmatchedmodestywithacovertkindofsexappeal.Iwasn’tsuresheevenrealizedshedidit,thatshecouldcatchmorestaresfromwearingaturtleneckthansomegirlscouldinabikini.
ShefoldedherarmsacrossherchestasItookmytimebringingmygazetherestofthewayup,notingherpalepinksweaterandthecollaredwhiteshirtsheworebeneathit.OnefingerpressedheroversizedglassesupthebridgeofhernosewhenIfinallymethergaze,andIsmirkedevenmoreatthecurlthatpoppedoutofplacewhereshe’dpiledherthickhairontopofherheadinabraidedbun.
“G,”Imused,sittingbackalittleonthebenchsoIcouldappreciatetheviewmore.“Towhatdoweowethepleasure?”
“Giana,”shecorrected,thoughhervoicewassoftasshedid,almostsomuchsothatIdidn’thearheratall.
Myeyesflickeddowntothecatwhiskersspreadingthelengthofherhipbones.“Cuteskirt.”
Sherolledhereyes.“Gladtoseeyou’reinabettermoodtoday.”
“Don’tlethimfoolyou,”Holdenpipedinfromhisbench.“HehadRobbinsinadeathgriptwominutesbeforeyouwalkedinhere.”
GianagaveHoldenaquestioningglancebeforeshakingherheadandfocusingonmeagain.“Weneedtotalk.”
“I’mallears,Kitten.”
Hercheeksflushedaspinkashersweaterbeforesheglaredatme.Itwasasifthatnicknamesnappedanewpersonaintoplace.Iwatchedasshewentfromsortofcoweringandshytostandingtaller,shouldersbackandchinup.
“Afterthestuntyoupulledyesterday,myassisinhotwater,andweneedtodiscussmediaprotocolandon-cameraetiquette.”
ItwasmyturntorollmyeyesasIgotbackintopositionforanotherrepofsquats.
“Ididmytimeoverthesummer,”Isaid,andthenIpushedtheweightup,beastingoutmynexttenrepswithherstillstandingbesideme.WhenIrackeduptheweightagain,sittingup,shehitmewithapatronizingsmile.
“Well,clearly,youdidn’tcomprehendanyofit.”
“Icomprehendedjustfine.”
“Afteryesterday,Ibegtodiffer.”
Ishrugged.“So,Isuckatbeingoncamera.Justdon’tputmeon.Simpleasthat.”
“No,notsimple.You’reastardefensiveplayerwithalotofmediarequests.Andyoudon’tsuckoncamera.YouwerelikeafishinwateranytimeIhadyouinterviewedlastseason.”
“Timeschange,Kitten.”
Shegrittedherteeth.“Stopcallingmethat.”
Ateammatesomewherebehindmeletoutasoftmeowthatmadeanotherbubbleoflaughterburstthroughtheweightroom,andIfoughttoholdbackmyown.
Gianasuckedinahotbreaththroughhernosebeforepointingafingeratmychest.“YouhaveamandatoryPRmeetingwithmetonightafterteammeetings.Thecoffeebarbythestudentunion.EightPMsharp.Ifyou’relate,you’llhaveCoachSanderstoanswerto—understood?”
Appreciationsimmeredinmychestatthesightofherstandingherground,athowsheraisedhervoicejustanotchandtippedherchinatmewhileshewaitedformyresponse.
“Yes,ma’am,”Ipurred,andIcouldn’thelpit.
Iglancedatherskirtagain.
Tohercredit,sheignoredmeifshenoticedatall,turningonherheelandsashayingafewstepsbeforeshewasalmosthitbyHernandezdoingatricepstrapworkout.Shedodgedhisfistsjustintime,nearlystumblingintoalegextensionmachinebeforeshedidalittlespinandavoidedthat,too.
Iwatchedherpinballtheentirewayoutoftheweightroom,anddidn’trealizehowmuchIlikedthedistractionofheruntilshewasgone.
AndtheonlythinglefttothinkaboutwasMaliyah.
Clay
“You’rejustgoingtolovehim,Clay,”Momsaidthroughthephone,thesoundofdishesclatteringinthebackgroundtellingmeshewasworkingondinner.
IwasonmywayacrosscampusafteragruelingdayofcamptomeetwithGianaforourlittlePRrefresher,andIwasnotinthemoodtohearaboutMom’slatestboyfriend.
ButIdidn’thaveachoice.
“He’sarealgentleman.Andhe’sseriousaboutbusiness.”Shepaused.“Andaboutme,whichisrefreshing.”
Itriedmybesttoharnessasmileeventhoughshecouldn’tseeme,mostlysoitwouldhelpmesoundlikeIbelievedher.“Heseemsgreat,Mom.”
“You’llsee.WhenyoucomehomeforChristmas.”Therewasapause,andthen,“So,tellmeaboutyou.How’sfootball?”
Isighedbeforeansweringthequestion,whichIreallywasgratefulfor.IknewMomwasinagoodplacebecausesheasked,becauseshedidn’tspendthewholecallwailingaboutherselfandherproblems.NotthatImindedwhenshedidthat,either.Iwasthereforhernomatterwhat.
Still,aftersomanytimesrepeatingthesamenarrative,Ihadahardtimebelievingthismanwouldbeanydifferentfromtherest.
MypoormotherwasstuckonaspinningFerriswheelofheartbreakshecouldn’tgetoffofeversincemydadleftwhenIwaseight.
Thecyclewentlikethis:
Momwouldmeetanewguy,usuallyatLeBasier,theridiculouslyoverpricedrestaurantwhereshewaitedtablesinLosAngeles.Momwasalooker—Igotmysharpgreeneyesfromher,andmynaturallytannedoliveskin—andshe’dalwaysbringhomethekindofguyswhowereenamoredbyherbeauty.Shewascharmingontopofit,whichusuallymeantthemenslippedwillinglyintoherwebandwerecontenttobeconsumedbyherenergy.
Theproblemwasthatoncetherelationshipstartedgettingreal,oncetheshineworeoffandtheyrealizedmymomcouldbealottohandle,theyleft.
Andtheyalwaysleftherwithevenmorescarsthanshehadbefore.
DadleavingMommessedherup.Itmessedbothofusup—especiallywhenhequicklymovedontoanotherwoman,hadtwokidswithsaidwoman,andbuiltacompletelynewlifethatdidn’tincludeus.AddthattoheralreadytraumaticdatinglifebeforeDad,andyoucouldsayMomhadherreasonsforactingalittle…muchattimes.
Mostmencouldn’ttakeit.Theycouldn’tsitwithherinthehardtimes,couldn’tholdherhandthroughthepanicattacksorgiveherwordsofaffirmationwhenshesodesperatelyneededthem.Whenherjealousyandparanoiasweptthroughherlikeahurricane,theydidn’tbattendownthehatchesandrideoutthestormalongsideher.
Theytookthefastestescaperouteoutoftown,leavinghertomanagethedamage.
Andintheirpartingwords,theymadesuretomakeherfeellikethecrazyone,thenag,thejealousbitch,thepsychotic,untrustingwoman.Nevermindthefactthattheygaveherplentyofreasonstofeelthoseemotions.
Butintheend,itwasalwaysmetherepickingupthepieces.
AndthatwaswhenIbracedfortheothersideofmymom.
Whenshewashappy,whenthingsweregood,Momwasthebrightestlightofsunshine.Shewasenigmaticandfuntobearound,motivatedanddriven,passionateabouteverything.She’dbeinvestedinmylife,inkeepingourhomecleanandputtogether,andmostofall,inherrelationshipwithwhoevertheguywas.
Butwhentheyleft?
Shewasadisaster.
Momhadalwaysbeenadrinker,eversinceIcouldremember.ThedifferencewasthatwhenIwasyounger,whenitwasheranddad,thatdrinkingwasusuallyabottleofwinebetweenthem—onethatledtothemlaughinganddancinginthekitchen.
ButMomdrinkingA.D.—afterDad—lookedalittledifferent.
Itwasentirecasesofbeerconsumedonherown.ItwascryingandscreamingandclingingtothetoiletasIheldherhairorpressedacoolwashclothtothebackofherneck.
Andthatwasanotherpartofthecyclethatrepeateditself—happydrunkwhenshewaswithsomeone,andadrunkenmesswhentheylefther.
Sometimes,intheworstofthebreakups,she’dturntodrugs.Sometimes,she’dletdepressiontakeherunder.Sometimesshe’dgetsoclosetobeingfiredthatIwonderedhowshe’dstayedwiththesameplaceallthistime.She’dblowthroughhersavings,getintosomuchtroublethatsheneededtoaskheronlysonformoney,andthenmakemefeelguiltyifIdidn’tgiveittoher.
AndIwould—everytime.
Itdidn’tmatterifIhadtoclearoutmysavings,workasummerjob,orsellmyPlayStation.
Iwouldneverturnmybackonmymom.
Thatwasagiven,somethingI’dfeltstronglyeversinceshedidn’tturnherbackonmewhenmyfatherdid.Shewasn’tperfect,butshe’dalwaysbeenthere,andforthataloneI’dgiveherthelastpennyinmybankandtheshirtoffmyback,too.
Butitdidn’tmeanitdidn’tsting,thatIdidn’trealizeespeciallyasIgotolderhowmuchhercyclehadfuckedmeup,too.
“ChartDayisjustaroundthecorner,”Ifinishedafterfillingherinonhowcamphadbeengoingsofar.“So,we’llsee.”
“You’llmaketheteam,baby,”shesaidwithouthesitation.“Andyou’llstart,andbeforeyouknowit,you’llbesigningamulti-million-dollarNFLdealandbuyingyourmomabigmansiononthebeach.”
Ismiled,thevisionshe’dhadformeoneI’dheardathousandtimes.ItwasbornwhenIwasyoung,fromthetimewerealizedIactuallyhadsomeprettydecenttalentinfootball.IcouldstillrememberhersittingmedownafteragamewhenIwastwelve,stillwearingmydirtyuniformandcleats.Shemademelookinthemirrorandshestoodbehindme,herhandsonmyshouldersandeyeslockedonmineinthereflectionasshesaid,“You’renevergoingtohavethestrugglesI’vehad,Clay.You’regoingtoberich.”
“Speakingoffootball,didItellyouBrandonusedtoplay?”Momasked,joltingmefromthememory.“Hewasthestartingquarterbackofhishighschoolteam.”
Mysmilewasflat,thesignforthecoffeeshopcomingintoviewasIroundedtheuniversitycourtyardwherestudentswerespreadoutonblankets,smokingvapes,laughing,andenjoyingtheevening.
Iwonderedwhatthatfeltlike,toactuallyhavetimeasacollegestudentinsteadofhavingeverywakingmomentconsumedbyasport.
“I’msurewe’lltalkallaboutitatChristmas,”Isaid.“Igottarun,Mom.Anothermeeting.”
“Atthistimeofnight?Theykeepyoubusy,don’tthey?”Shechuckled.“Well,Iloveyou,baby.Callmelaterthisweektocatchup.”Shepaused.“Areyou…haveyouseenMaliyah?”
Icethickenedinmyveinsatthesoundofhername.“No.”
Itwassaltinthewound,thereminderthatitwasn’tjustmehurtingfromourbreakup—butourfamilies,too.Wehadbeentogethersolong,throughsomuch,thatIknewmymomviewedMaliyahlikeadaughter.
Theywerecloserthanweweresometimes,bondingoverthingsIknewI’dneverbeabletobecauseIwasn’tawoman.
“Well,”Momstarted,butthenshethoughtbetterofit,lettingalongpauselingerbeforeshesaid.“Juststayfocusedonfootball.Everythingelsewillworkitselfout.”
“Loveyou,Mom,”Imanaged.
“Loveyou.Oh,and—”
Beforeshecouldaskanythingelse,Iendedthecall,pausingforabriefmomentofsilenceandreliefoutsidethefrontdoorofthecoffeeshop.Theeveningbreezewaswarmandpleasant,thelastbitofsummerclingingtothestill-greentrees.
Itookadeepbreath,hatinghowanythingmorethanasipofoxygenanymoremademychestburn.IthadeversinceMaliyahwalkedawayfromme,afterI’drealizedthatthiswasmynewreality.
Ithadalreadybeenalongday.TheabsolutelastthingIwantedtodowasgetanasschewingfornotbeingMr.Sunshineoncamera.
ButifitwasorderedbyCoachSanders?Ididn’thavetheoptiontobail—notwithoutendangeringmystartingposition.
So,withafinalsigh,Ipushedthroughtheglassdoor,asmallbellaboveitchimingmyentry.
Rum&Roasterswasoneoftheonlybarsoncampus,likelybecauseitwascivilandlowkeyincomparisontothebarsoffcampus.Itwasnevercrawlingwithwasted,underagecollegestudentstotingtheirridiculousfakeIDs,butrathercomfortablyfullofupperclassmenwhowereoldenoughtodrinkandpreferredtohaveaquieteveningofconversationorlivemusicratherthangrindonthedancefloor.
Theirloss.
Still,therewassomethingcomfortingaboutitasIpushedinsidethedarkspace,thesmellofoldbooksandcandlesandcoffeeoverpoweringanyalcoholbeingserved.ItwasalotmorepleasantthanthestenchofthebarsIpreferredtofrequent,andIhadtoadmitithadavibe.
Someguyplayedacousticguitaronasmallstageinthecorner,singingsoftlyalongwiththesound,buthekeptthevolumelowenoughthateveryoneseatedatthedarkboothsandcandle-littablescouldhaveconversationaroundit.
Istoppedatthebar,scanningthetablesinsearchofGiana.Somethinginmygutchurnedatthesightofacouplemakingoutinoneofthecornerbooths,butIskimmedpastthemquickly,eyesdartingarounduntilIfoundthepersonIwaslookingfor.
CandlelightandshadowsbattledforterritoryonGiana’ssereneface,hereyeswideandsoft,lipsturnedupintoacrescentsmile.Shehadacomicallylargemugofsomesortoffoamycoffeedrinkcuppedbetweenhersmallhands,andshesippeditfromtimetotimeasshelistenedtothemusic.
Andshewasreallylistening.
Herlegswerecrossed,stillswathedinthosemodestlysexytightsshehadonearlier,andherlittlefootbouncedalongwiththetune.Itwasn’toneIrecognized,butshequietlymouthedalongwiththelyrics,hereyesfixedonthemusician.
Andwhenhelookedupfromhisguitarandcaughtherstare,sheflushedsofiercelyIcouldseethecrimsoneveninthedimlightofthebar.Shequicklytorehergazeaway,lookingdownathercoffeeandbitingbackasmile.Bythetimesheglancedbackupattheguyonstage,hehadmovedon,winkingatacouplegirlsseatedclosetothestage.
Curiosityhadmesmiling,andIstrolledovertohertable,notstoppinguntilIwasdirectlybetweenherandtheguywiththeguitar.
SheblinkedwhenIinterruptedherview,likeshewassurprisedtoseeme,likeshe’dforgottenshe’deveninvited—no,demanded—metocome.Shestartled,nearlyspillinghercoffeeasshesatitdownonthetable,adjustedherglasses,andstood.
“You’rehere.”
Icockedabrow.“Wasn’tIsupposedtobe?”
“Well,yes,butI—”Shecoveredhersurprisewithasmile,wavingherhandbeforeshegesturedtothechairoppositeher.“Doyouwantabeerorsomething?”
ThelookIgaveherwasanswerenough,andshetippedafingeruptothewaitresswalkingthroughthecrowd.
ThewaitresswastednotimeinaskingmeformyID,andfortunately,Ihadaprettystellarfake—thankstoKyleRobbins.Thatwasaboutallhewasgoodforoutsideofbeingtoogoodofatightendformetohatehimmorethantheamountyoumighthateanannoyinglittlebrother.
OnceIhadmyIPAinhand,Gianaproppedherelbowsonthetable,steeplingherfingertipstogetherandfacingme.
“Thankyouforcoming.”
Inodded.
“Look,Idon’twanttobeanag,andIcertainlydon’twanttobehere,workingaftersunset,anymorethanyoudo.”Shepausedtoswipeacurloutofherface,andIrealizedthenthatshe’dloosenedthebunithadbeentiedupinallday,lettingthewildgoldandbrownandblondstrandsframeherfacelikeahalo.Hercheekswerepepperedinfreckles,herlipsplumpasshepursedthem.“Canwejustagreetogooverthisquickly,figureoutthesolutiontoourproblem,andgetsomemuch-neededsleep?”
“Whatproblemdowehave,exactly?”
“Oh,otherthanyounearlybitingtheheadoffofanESPNreporter?”Sheshrugged,pullingherlaptopoutofherbagandproppingitonthetablebetweenus.“Notmuch.”
“Shewasanuisance.Theyallare.”
“Youdidn’tseemtocarelastseasonwhentheywererunningallyourtapeandtalkingabouthowyou’rethenextRonnieLott.”
“Yeah,well,alothaschangedsincelastseason.”
“Likeyourrelationshipstatus?”
Thewordswerelikeaslaptotheface,andIactuallyjerkedmyheadbackatthem,surprisedtohearthequickreplyfromthegirlI’dalwaysseenasawallflower.
“Idon’tmeantoberude,”sheamendedquickly,andjustlikethat,thesoftnessslippedoverheragain.Hervoicewasquieter,hesitant.“Iknow…well,Icanimaginehowdifficultabreakupis,especiallywithyourhighschoolsweetheart.”
“Howdoyouknowsomuchaboutit?”
Sheleveledmewithalook.“It’smyjobtoknow.Andit’salsomyjobtomakesureyou’reokay.”
“Isthatsupposedtomakemefeelallwarmandfuzzy,Kitten?”
Shedeflated,sittingbackinherchair.“Quickandpainless,remember?Wecanbeoutofhereafteryoufinishthatbeerifyoucooperate.”
Igrumbledoutanexhale,wavingatherlaptopandtakingalongpullofmyIPAwhileIwaitedforhertogetoutwhateversheneededto.
“Ms.BankshasinvitedthereporteryourefusedtospeakwithbackforChartDay.Shewantstogiveheranexclusive.”Giana’seyesflickedtominethen.“Icanleaveyoualoneuntilthen,ifyoupromisetotakethesenextcoupleofweekstogetyourmindrightandgiveaproperinterviewwhenshereturns.”
“Leavemealone…asin?”
“Asin,Iwon’tscheduleanyothermediaobligations.Nointerviews,nopodcasts,notevenaphotoopuntilChartDay.”Shetypedsomethingonhercomputer.“AndIknowyoudon’tneedcoachingonhowtoactoncamera.You’reoneoftheeasiestformetorelyonwhenitcomestothis.”Shepaused,fingershoveringoverthekeysassheglancedbackatme,thewhitelightofherscreenreflectingonherface.“ButIcantellyou’renotokay.AndIdon’twanttoaddanythingtoyourplate.So…doesthissoundlikeafairdeal?”
Therewassomethingabouthowshesaidit,thatI’mnotokay,thatmademyribstightenaroundmylungs.
Imanagedanod.
“Good,”shesaid,butbeforeshecouldgobacktotyping,sheglancedovermyshoulderatwherethemusicianhadstartedplayingagain.
Andrightoncue,sheblushed.
Inarrowedmygaze,watchinghertearhereyesawayandbacktohercomputerbeforeIslungmyarmoverthebackofmychairandtwistedsoIcouldgetagoodlookatthisguy.
“ThisisaspecialoneIwroteforaprettygirl,”hesaidsoftlyintothemicrophone,smilingagainatadifferenttableofgirlsseatedathisfeet.Theybrightenedathisattention,andthenhestartedstrummingandsinging,hisdarkbrownChelseabootstappingawayonthebottomrungofthebarstoolhesaton.
Hehaddark,shaggyhair,anunkemptstubbleonhischin,anddarkbagsunderhiseyes.Helookedlikehewashungover,butmaybeitaddedtothewholetorturedartistbit.HealsoworeashirtsmallerthantheoneGianawaswearing,ifIweretowager,andskinnyblackjeanswithholesrippedovertheknees.
ThesignabovethetipjarnexttohimsaidShawnStetsonMusic,alongwithhisInstagramandVenmohandle.
IhadtofightnottoscoffasIangledbacktowardGiana,crossingmyarmsovermychestandsinkingbackintomychair.
“What’supwithyouandtheguitardude?”
GianahadhercoffeecuphalfwaytoherlipswhenIsaidit,andthemugwavereddangerouslyinherhandsafterward,alittlebitspillingoutandontoherlaptopasshecursedandsatitbackdown.Shequicklywipedwherethefoamyliquidhadsplashedherkeys,shakingherheadwithanotherfuriousblushonhercheeks.
“What?Whatareyoutalkingabout?There’snothingupwithmeandShawnStetson.”
Anervouslaughbubbledoutofher,onethatresultedinaweirdsnortthingthatmademyloweredeyebrowbounceuptojointheonelifted.
Didshejustrefertohimbyhisfirstandlastname?
“Convincing,”wasallImurmuredinresponse.
Shepursedherlips,sittingupstraighterandpullinghershouldersback.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’regettingat,butlet’sturntheconversationbackto—”
“Youlikehim.”
Shegaped,clampinghermouthshutoncesherealizeditwashangingopen.“Icertainlydono—”
“You’recrushingonhimsobadyoucan’tevenstandtoholdeyecontactwithhimacrossacrowdedbar.”
I’dneverseenGianasofrazzled,andshehastilysnappedherlaptopshutandtuckeditintohermessengerbag.“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”
ButIjustsmiledandleanedoverthetable,elbowsonthecoolwoodasmychestsqueezedwithanentirelydifferentkindofemotionthantheonethathadbeenoccupyingthespaceforweeksnow.Itwasexcitement,albeitmuted,butthatpartofmethatlovedtohelpothersthawedlikeafrozentreeshakingoffthelasticiclesofthewinter.
Andunderneaththatthawingicewasaflutterofhopeasfreshasspring,anideasproutinginmymindlikeaflower.
Orperhapsaweed.
“Icanhelpyou.”
“Helpme?”
Acurlfelloverherlefteyebeforeshebrusheditaway,andwhenIleanedinevencloser,shelookeddownatmychest,pullingherhandsintoherlaplikeshewasafraidthey’dbrushmineifsheleftthemonthetable.
“Gooutwithme.”
Hereyessnappedwideatthat,lockingonminebeforethatsnort-laughthingbubbledoutofheragain.
“Oratleast,pretendtogooutwithme.”
Thatmadeherlaughevenharder.ButwhenIdidn’tlaughwithher,shepaled,onehandholdingontotheedgeofthetableastheothercametoherforehead.“IthinkI’mgoingtopassout.”
“Pleasedon’t.ItwouldbeanevenrougherstarttoourjourneyofmakingShawnStetsonyourboyfriend.”
AndofmegettingMaliyahback.Giana
“You’reinsane.”
“Insanelygenius,”Clayargued,restinghiselbowsonthetablebetweenusasheleanedtowardmeevenmore.Itwasalmostcomical,howmassivehisarmswerecomparedtothetinytable,whichwobbledprecariouslyonitsthinlegsasittookhisweight.
“I…it’sjust…absurd.”
Ipushedmyglassesupthebridgeofmynose,coldfingertipsbrushingmyhotcheeksasIuncrossedmylegsjusttocrossthemtheotherway.Ithencrossedmyarmsovermychest,allbodylanguagepointingtohowuncomfortableIwaswiththisconversationandtheproposalinit.
IwasheretocoachClayJohnsonhowtobebetterwiththemediaafterhisbreakup—whichhadthusfarbeenagonizingnotonlyforhim,butfortheentireteam.
IwasnothereforhimtoteasemeaboutmycrushonShawnStetson,ortoconmeintosomeridiculousfakerelationshiptogethisattention.
Thefactthathe’devenpickeduponmycrushwasembarrassingenough.HereIthoughtI’dalwaysbeengoodathidingit—mostlybecause,toShawn,atleast,Iwasinvisible.EversincethefirsttimeIheardhimplaylastsemester,I’dallbutstalkedhim,listeningtohimplayoncampusanytimeIhadthechance.
Iblamedmyfascinationwithhimononeofmyfavoritebooks—Thoughtless
S.C.StephensmademefallinlovewithKellanKyle,andwhenI’dfinishedthatbookandbeencompletelylost,intheworstbookfunkofmylife,unabletofunction…I’dstumbledintoRum&Roasters
Andtherehewas,ShawnStetson,broodyandmysteriousanddarkandhandsome.
“Look,G,”Claysaid.
“Giana,”Icorrected.
“WouldyouratherIcallyouKittenagain?”
Myeyesweremereslitsashesmirkedathisowncutejoke.
“I’maguy,andasaguy,Iknowwhatguyswant.Atleast—most,straight,saneguys.AndI’mtellingyou.Thatguy?”HepointedafingeratwhereShawnwasplayinghissetonstage,thebardimincomparisontowhereasoftspotlightilluminatedhim.“Hewantsawomanofmystery,onewhocanbehismuse,whowillbealittlehardtoget,alittleoutofhisleague.”
MyeyesnearlybulgedoutofmyskullbeforeIcoveredClay’sgargantuanfingerwithbothmyhandsandshoveditdown,quicklyglancingatShawntomakesurehehadn’tseen.
“IcanhavehimeatingoutofthepalmofyourhandbyThanksgiving.”
Mycheeksweresohot,Iwasworriedthey’dsingemyhairasitfellovermyface.“WhatmakesyouthinkI’dwantthat?”
Clayjustcockedabrow.
Okay,soI’maboutaseasytoreadasabillboardrightnow.
Ichewedtheinsideofmylip,glancingatShawnandthenbackatClaybeforeIloweredmyvoicetoawhisper.“HebarelyknowsIexist.”
“AnotherthingIcanhelpwith,”hesaid,sweepingalargehandoverhimself.“DoyouthinkanyoneonthiscampuscouldignorethegirlwhohasClayJohnson’sattention?”
Irolledmyeyesatthecockyinsinuation,butcouldn’targueagainsthispoint.
Itwastrue.
ThatmassivehunkofmuscleandthosepiercinggreeneyeshadbeenoffthemarketsinceClaywalkedontoNorthBostonUniversity’scampus—muchtoeverygirl’sdismay.Andwhilehe’dbeenamiserablepricksinceheandMaliyahbrokeup,thegroupiesthatfollowedtheteamaroundlikeflieswerebeggingforevenatasteofhisaffection.
Still…
“He’samusician,”Ipointedout,foldingmyarms.“Heprobablycouldn’tcarelessaboutfootball.”
Andtheuniverselovedtoplayjokesonme,becauseatthatexactmoment,Shawnfinishedthesonghe’dbeenplaying,andafterstrumminghisguitarafewtimes,hespokerightintothemicandsaid,“Ladiesandgentlemen,wehaveacelebrityherewithustonight.ClayJohnson,NBU’sbestsafetyandashoe-infortheNFL.Makesuretogetyourautographswhileyoucan.”
Clayheldupahandinahumblewaveaseverypairofeyesshottowardus.IduckedandtriedtohidemyfaceasClayateeverysecondup,throwingaseductivesmirkandawinkataparticulartableofgirls.TheyquietlywhisperedtooneanotherwiththeireyessweepingoverClay,theirsmileseager,allnudgingoneanotherliketheywerepickingstrawsoverwhowouldtrytotalktohimfirst.Irolledmyeyeswhenoneofthemnot-so-subtlytookavideoofhimonherphone.
“Anyrequests,man?”Shawnaskednext,andthefactthathewastalkingtoClayandClaywasatmytablewasaboutascloseasI’deverbeentobeinginthesameuniverseasmycrush.
Clayeyedmewiththatdamnsmirkstillsecurelyinplace.“Howabout‘JustSayYes’bySnowPatrol?”
Irolledmyeyesagain,andasShawnbegantoplay,Clayleanedinevencloser.
“Areyououtofargumentsyet?”
Isighed.“So,letmegetthisstraight.Wewouldbeinafakerelationship,inwhichyou,hypothetically,wouldhelpmegetShawn,andI…”Iblinked,comingupblank.“Woulddowhat,exactly?Imean…what’sinthisforyou?”
Ashadowofsomethingwashedoverhisfacethen,andhesatback,shruggingabitbeforehedrankhalfhisbeerinonegulp.“Maliyah.”
Ifrowned.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“Iknowmygirl,”hesaid,hiseyesmoredeterminedthanI’deverseen—andthatwassayingsomething,becauseI’dseenthisguypowerdownthefieldforanimpossibleinterceptionmorethanafewtimes.“Iknowthatshestilllovesme,stillwantsme,butshethinksthere’ssomethingbetteroutthere.She’salwayswantedthebest.”Hepaused.“She’sbeenbroughtupwiththatdesire.It’sjustpartofwhosheis.”
Ihadtofighttokeepmylipfromcurlingathowhemadeallofthatsoundlikeagoodquality.
“Butwhensheseesmewithsomeoneelse,whenshethinksI’vemovedon?”Heshookhisheadwithadevilishsmile.“Thatgreenmonsterwillgether.She’llbebeggingtogetmeback.”
Iwrinkledmynose.“Idon’tknow,Clay…Idon’twanttoplaythosekindsofgames.”
“Trustme—everyoneplaysthem.So,ifyou’renotplaying—no,ifyou’renotwinning?”Heshrugged.“You’relosing.”
Hiswordsmadesomethinginmyguttighten,myeyesskirtingtowhereShawnstrummedhisguitaronstage.Myheartdidabackflipjustlikeitalwaysdidwhenhisgazewashedoverme,eventhoughitwassoquickIbarelyregisteredthecolorofhisgoldeneyesbeforetheyweregoneagain.
Iwasinvisibletohim.Ialwayshadbeen.
IwouldneveradmitoutloudhowmanytimesI’dfantasizedabouthim,particularlywhenI’dre-readThoughtless.Everytimeheplayedatthisbarandglancedmyway,Iwonderedifitwouldbethenighthe’dendhissetandwalkrightovertomytable,demandingtoknowme,demandingtotakemehome.Whenwouldhesuddenlyrealizethewallflowergirlwhowatchedeveryset,whokneweverywordtohisoriginalsongs,whosatquietlyinthecornerwhileeveryothergirlthrewthemselvesathim?
Thefantasiesalwaysgotalittlespicyafterthat.
Still,evenwhenhedidlookatme,myinstantreactionwastolookaway,tohide,tosinkintothecrowdandbecomeinvisibleoncemore.Attentionlikethatmademeuncomfortable,mademeself-conscious,mademewonderifIhadsomethinginmyteethratherthanifIwasdesirable.Iwasn’tthekindofgirlwhocouldholdhisstareonceIhadit,whocouldsmirkandliftabroworlickmylipsordrawaseductivecircleontherimofmycoffee.
Ididn’thavemaincharacterenergy
Iwasmoreofthequirky,cutebestfriendwithallthesageadvice.
Isighed,heartlongingforsomethingthatseemedsooutofreach.WhenShawnglancedatmeagain,Ihidmyfacejustlikealways,cheeksburning,andthenIpeekedupatClay,whojustcockedabrowlikehe’dcaughtmered-handed.
Orinthiscase,red-faced.
Allmylife,I’dbeentooscaredtogoforwhatIwanted—IwastheexactoppositeofMaliyah,ofClay,ofeveryoneIworkedwithontheteam.Iwasn’tlikemysiblings,destinedforgreatnessandlikeamagnettoanyoneinmyvicinity.Iwasn’tlikemyboss,whocommandedattentionineveryroomshegraced.
Iwasthesidekick,andIhadalwaysbeencontenttobeinthebackground.
Butnow,forthefirsttime,Ifoundmyselfyearningforthespotlight.
Andforafreakingboyfriend,forscience’ssake.
Uncrossingmylegs,Ileanedforward,foldingmyhandstogetheronthetable.“Weneedterms.Conditions.Rules.”
WhenasmoothtiltofClay’slipswashisonlyresponse,IwonderedjusthowmuchtroubleIwasgettingmyselfinto.
Iheldupafinger.“ThefirstonebeingthatregardlessofwhatyouhelpmewithShawn-wise,youdowhateverIneedyoutodoforthemedia.I’llleaveyoualoneforthenextcoupleweekslikeIpromised,butcomeChartDay,youplaytheperfectcollegeathleteandmakemelookgood.”
“Soundslikealopsideddealnow.”
“Isitreally,ifyoucangetMaliyahback?”
Hetiltedhisheadatmychallenge,sittingbackinhischairandcrossinghisankleovertheoppositeknee.Hehadtobackallthewayupfromunderthetabletodoso.“Touché.Whatelse?”
Isatback,tappingafingeragainstmychinasItriedtorecallallthefake-datingtropesI’dread.ThetruthwasIreadaboutabookaday,sotheyallblurredtogetherafterawhile.ButonethingIknewaboutpretendingtodatesomeonewasthatyouabsolutelyneededrules,orthingsgotmessy.
“NoPDA,”Ifinallysaid.
Claymadeabuzzersound,thenoisesoloudafewstudentsatthetablesarounduslookedovertheirshoulders.“Impossible.Noonewho’sactuallydatingavoidsPDA.”
“Fine.”Imadeaface.“Thenweneedasafeword.”
“Asafeword?”Claychuckled.“DoyouthinkI’mgoingtobetyingyouup,Kitten?”
Somethingwickedgleamedinhiseyes,likehe’djustthoughtaboutwhatthatwouldentail,andonceagain,heleanedhislargeframeoverthetinytable.
“Imean,thatcanbearranged,”headdedwithasmirk.“Ifyou’dlike.”
Thewaymylipspartedattheinvitation,howmyheartskippedabeatbeforegallopingalittlequickerthanbefore,wasnotokay.Fortunately,IcovereditprettywellasIrolledmyeyes.
Atleast,IhopedIdid.
“IjustmeanthatifyoudosomethingI’muncomfortablewith,Iwantawaytotellyou.”
“Whydon’twejustgothroughwhatisokay?”hesuggested.
Itiltedmyhead,considering,andthennodded.
“Holdinghands?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Kissonthecheek,forehead,etcetera?”
Mycheekswarmed.“Yes.”
Clayarchedabrow.“Kissonthemouth?”
Again,myheartwasbeatingoutofrhythm,butItuckedmyhairbehindmyear,liftingmycoffeemugtomylipsforasipofthefoamthathadgonecold.“Isupposeitwouldbeweirdifwedidn’t.”Isnappedmyfingers,pinninghimwithaglare.“Butnotongue.”
“Notongue?”Claysuckedhisteeth.“Who’sgoingtobeenviousofapeckonthelips?CertainlynotyourboyShawnoverthere,Icanpromiseyouthat.”
Igrunted,andlikeabucketoficewaterbeingthrownoverme,Irealizedhowincrediblystupidthewholepremisewas.Ididn’tliveinafreakingbook—Ilivedinreallife,wheretherewasnoplausiblewayanyofthiswouldturnoutinourfavor.
“Thisisabsurd,”Isaid.“It’snotgoingtowork.Andit’sweirdanddesperate,andweshouldjustforgetthewholething.”
Istartedgatheringupmythings,butClayreachedout,hishandfoldingovermywristsosoftlyitsurprisedmegiventhemassofthatcallousedhand.
Istilled,swallowingasmyeyescrawledthelengthofhistonedarm,findinghimwatchingmewithadeepsincerity.Itunnervedme,thatgaze,howsteadyandyetsomehow…terrifyingitwas.Iwonderedifthiswaswhathisopponentsfeltonthefield,fearspikingthehairsonthebackoftheirnecks.
“Meow.”
Icrackedalaugh.“Meow?”
“IfIgotoofar,ifyou’reuncomfortableandwantmetobackoff,justmeow.”
“Oh,myGod.”
“Butyouwon’thaveto,”headdedquickly.“Regardlessofalltheresearchyou’vedoneonmeandwhatyouthinkyouknow,I’magentleman.”Hesatback,finallyremovinghishandfromwhereitheldmywrist,andIdidn’trealizeIwasn’tbreathingproperlyuntilhimremovinghisholdonmebroughtasharpinhalethroughmylips.“AndIwanttomakeMaliyahwantmeback,notyoufallinlovewithme.”
Isnorted.“Trustme,noworriesthere.”
“Okay,so,”Claysaid,sittingupandcountingoneachfinger.“Ibehaveoncamera,guideyouthroughallthestepstogetMr.EmoGuitarGuytofallforyou,andyouplayalongasmyfakegirlfriendtomakeMaliyahjealous.”
“AndifImeow—”
Claysmirked.“NowIkindofwanttomakeyouuncomfortablejusttohearit.”
“Don’t,”Iwarned.
“Fine.Ifyoumeow,Ibackoff.”
Inodded,consideringalltheterms.“Onemorething,”Isaid,clearingmythroatasIpickedatthepaperfrillsstuckinthespiralofmynotebookfromtearingpagesoutofit.“Whatifthingsget…messy.”
“Meaning?”
Iscratchedthebackofmyneckonashrug.“I’veseenenoughmoviesandreadenoughbookstoknowthatsometimes,thesethingscanget…complicated.”Myeyesfoundhis.“Whatifoneofuswantsout?”
“Youcan’tjustbackout,”hesaid,frowning.“Thatwouldbebreakingthedeal.”
“Butwhatif…”
Icouldn’tsayit,notwithmypulsehammeringsoloudinmyearsitwaslikeawholedrumlineinthere.
Claysmirked.“Soyouareworriedaboutfallinginlovewithme.”
Myfacefellflat.“Ugh,thankyouforremindingmehowimpossiblethatis.”
Abarrellaughlefthischestasheextendedhishandoverthetable.“Ifatanypointyouwantout,justsayso.I’mnotholdingyouhostage.But,”hesaid,takinghishandbackwhenIwenttograbit.“Don’tquitonmejustbecauseyoufeellikeit.I’mcommittingtothecause.Areyou?”
“Trustme—ifhelpingyougetMaliyahbackmeansIdon’thavetodealwithanotherdisasterlikeyesterday,I’lldowhateverittakes.”
Asatisfiedsmilecurledonhislips,hishandbackinplace.“Thenwe’vegotadeal,Kitten.”
Islidmypalmintohis,ahardsteadyshakesealingtheridiculousplan.
Anduponthestage,ShawnStetsonwatcheduswithacuriouslookonthatbeautifulfaceofhis.
Aweekandahalflater,IsnuckClayintomyoffice,peekingdownthehalltomakesurenoplayersorstaffsawus.Notthatitwouldmatter—Icouldeasilyplayitoffasmediaprep—butsomethingabouttherealreasonwewerealonetogetherconvincedmeIwouldn’tbeabletosellthelie.
IclickedthedoorclosedassoftlyasIcouldoncehewasinside,turningtowardhimwitharelievedexhalethatnoonesaw.
“Whyareyouactinglikewe’reabouttohijackabank?”
“Honestly?Thatsoundslessscarythanwhywe’reactuallyhere,”Iadmitted.
Claysmirked,foldinghisarmsoverhismassivechestashetookasteptowardme.Hewasstillinhispracticejerseyandpaddedpants,bothofwhichwerestainedanddampandclingingtohim.Thecloserhegot,themoreIsmelledhim—andIwishedIwasdisgustedbythemixofsweatanddirtandgrassandsomethingliketeakwood,butthecocktailwaslikehisownbrandofpheromones,andIhadtoactivelyworktokeepmyeyestrainedonhiscockyfaceinsteadoftrailingthelengthofallhisgloriousmuscles.
“It’sjustalittlekisspractice.”
“Doyouhearhowridiculousthatsounds?”
Hechuckled.“Wehaven’thadtimetotalkmuchsincewemadethedeal.Ithinkitmakessensetogothroughtheplan.”
Iswallowed.“Right.Whichis…whatagain?”
“We’llmakeourbigrevealonChartDay.We’llstartbywalkingintothestadiumholdinghandsbeforepractice,gettherumormillgoing.Theteamwillbebuzzingwithhighenergysinceeveryonefindsoutwhomakestheteamandatwhatrank.”
“Andthen,inthecafeteriaafterpractice,we…makeascene.”
Henodded.“Wemakeascene.”
“BecauseIrunovertoyouand…kissyou.”
Clay’ssmirkwasincorrigible,andIswattedhisarm.
“I’msogladthisamusesyou,”Isaidwithaglare.
“Ijustfindhumorinhowyoucanbarelysaythewordkiss.”
Icrackedmyneck,holdingmyshouldersbackandrefusingtoadmittohimthatI’donlyhadacoupleofkissesinmylife—noneofwhichrockedmyworld—andthatthisentirethingmademewanttocrawlintoaholeandhide.
Icoulddothat.Itwasanoption.Icouldcallthiswholethingoffrightnowandsavemyselftheembarrassment.
ButsomethingstrangehappenedafterIleftClaythatnightatthecoffeeshop.
IrealizedsomethingIhatedtoadmit.
Iwantedthis.
Itwasoutrageous,andwouldlikelyfail,buteventhepossibilityofitworkinginawaythatgotShawntonotonlynoticeme,buttakeaninterestinme?
Itwastoointoxicatingofafantasytopassup.
So,ifmyroleinallthiswastomakeascenesoMaliyahwouldnoticeClaywasmovingon?
I’dplaymypart.
Although,thefactthathethoughtIcouldmakeagirllikeherjealouswasalittleridiculousinitsownright.
“Okay,let’sdothis,”Isaid,ignoringthatbitofinsecuritynigglingatmychest.I’dhaveplentyoftimetoletitkeepmeawakelater.“So,youstandoverthere,pretendlikeyou’reinlineorwhatever.”
Ipointedbymydesk,andClaytookhisposition,watchingmewithcuriouseyes.
“Alright,”Isaid,wringingmyhands.“Hereitgoes.”
“Okay.”
Claywaited,andIjuststoodthere,rollingmylipstogetherandwillingmyfeettomove.
“HereIcome.”
Hechuckled.“Okay.”
Afteranotherlonghesitation,heopenedhismouthtoquestionme,andIlaunchedbeforehehadthechance.
ItwasaquickfivestridesbeforeIleapt,andIsqueezedmyeyesshuttightattheprospectofhimdroppingmeorbeingknockedoffcenterbymyclumsiness.ButClaycaughtmewithease,hisarmscomingaroundmywaistasmylegslockedaroundhis.Mybreathcaughtwiththeforce,hairfallingintomyfaceabitandglassesslidingdownthebridgeofmynose.
Ipushedthembackupslowly,breathingheavilyasIcataloguedeveryplacemybodytouchedhis—myarmsaroundhisneck,mychestpressedagainsthis,mythighssqueezingathiships.
Andbetweenmylegs,somethingforeigntingledwherehisstomachrubbedagainstme.
PaniczippedthroughmeasIscrambledoutofhisarms.“Okay.Gotit.”
“Don’tyouwanttotrythekiss?”
Inarrowedmyeyes.“Don’tbeabrat.”
“What?”Hefeignedinnocence,throwinghishandsup.“Ithinkyou’dfeelmorecomfortableifyoutrieditnow,whennooneisaround.”
“I’llgiveyouanicelongpeckandthenscreamyoumadeit!tosealtheproudgirlfriendthing.”
Clayheldupafingerandwaveditsidetoside.“Notjustapeck.Nooneisgoingtobeconvincedbythat.They’dbemoreapttothinkwe’rebrotherandsisterthanacouple.”
“Fine,”Igroundout.“Alittletongue.Butjustaquicksweep,capisce?”
Hecockedabrow.“Whatareyou,anItalianmobsternow?”
Iwavedhimoff.“Ineedtogetbacktowork.Andyouneedtogetbacktopractice.Ithinkwe’refinehere.”
Claysmiled,concedingandheadingforthedoor,buthepausedattheframe,somethingslumpinghisshouldersbeforeheturnedbacktome.
“Thankyou,”hesaid,somethingthickinhisthroatwiththewords.“Fordoingthis.”
Themomentofsoftnessfromhimcaughtmeoffguard,butIlaugheditoff,shrugging.“Hey,it’llbemethankingyouwhenyoulandmemyfirstrealboyfriend.”
Thesecondthewordsleftmylips,Ibalked—theshockedexpressiononmyfacemirroringClay’s.
“Firstboyfriend?”heechoed.
Ididn’thavethechancetoanswerbeforeCharlotteswungthroughthedoorofheroffice,whichwasconnectedtomine,andstartedramblingoffabouttwentythingssheneededfromme.
IshovedClaytherestofthewayoutthedoorwithoutacknowledginghisquestion,andoncethedoorwasshutbehindme,Charlottesweptin.
“Areyoulistening?”
Isnappedupstraight,grabbingmynotebookoffmydesk.“Following.AndIhaveanupdateontheauction,too.”
Sheeyedmecautiously,liftingabrowatthedoorIhadjustbeenguardingbeforesheshruggedlikeitwasn’tworthhertimetoaskanyquestions.Then,sheturnedandslippedbackintoheroffice,meonherheelsasshecontinuedonwithourlist.
AndIsomehowmanagedtopayattentiondespitehowmyheartracedinmychestClay
“Youreadyforthis?”
Gianawaswringingherhandstogetherinfrontofthestadium,doeeyesshiftyastheylookedarounduslikeshewasworriedsomeonewouldoverhear.Themorningsunilluminatedallthedifferentcolorsinthoseeyes,onesI’dnevernoticedbefore—astrangeblendofturquoiseandgoldandgreen.
Herfearofbeingseenwasunwarranted.Mosteveryonewasalreadyinside,gettingwarmandtryingtoworkouttheanxietyfromwhatthisdayheldforallofus.
DepthChartDay.
“Youcanbackout,”Isaid.
“No.”GianaansweredasquicklyasI’dsuggested,shakingherheadandsteadyinghershoulders.“I’mfine,Ijust…”Shebitherlip.“Look,Ibelieveyouwhenyousayyou’regoingtohelpme.Thatmakessense.Idon’tknowhowtoflirt,letalonedate,orgetaguywhodoesn’tevenknowI’malivetowantme.”
Shewasallnerves,herhandstremblingabitasshestareddownatthechippingpolishonhernails.
“Butme,helpingyou,”shesaid,shakingherhead.“MakingsomeonelikeMaliyahjealous?”
Shedidn’tfinishthethought,justbittheinsideofhercheekandlookedupatmelikeitwasobvious,likeshecouldn’tpossiblyarousejealousyinanyone.
Ididn’tbothertotamethesmilethatcurvedonmylipsasIletmyeyesrunthelengthofher.She’dleftherhairdown,thetightcurlsstillalittledampfromhershowerthatmorning,andwhatevermakeupshe’ddonewaslightenoughthatallthefrecklesspecklinghercheeksshonethroughthefoundation.Herglasseswerered-framed,matchingtheplaidskirtsheworeandtheknee-highstockingsshe’dpairedwithit.Shewascompletelyoblivioustohowsexyherlegswere,tohowseeingthatlittleskirtcontrastedwiththemodestbuttonupfastenedallthewaytoherneckwouldmakeanystraightmanlongtoundoher,makeanywomanlongtobeaseffortlesslyalluring.
“Trustme,”Isaid,takingmytimeasmygazecrawledbackuptomeethers.“Maliyahwillloseherfuckingmindwhensheseesus.”
Gianashookherhead,claspingherhandstogetherassheturnedtofaceme.“Canwejustrunthroughitonemoretime?”
“Itoldyouweneededmorepractice.”
Shewavedmeoffwithafacethatsaidyeah,yeahbeforewaitingformycue.
“We’llwalkintogether,holdinghands,andgetalittleclose.Startupthewhispers,”Iremindedher.“Afterpractice,you’llmeetmeinthecafeteria.”
“AndI’llmakeabigscene,runningtoyouandcongratulatingyouonmakingtheteam.”Shepaused.“Andyou’resureyou’llmakeit?”
Igaveheraflatlook.
“Fine,”shewavedmeoff.“Andthen…we…kiss.”
Hercheekstingedpink.
Ismirked.“Then,wekiss.”Ipaused,archingabrow.“Yousureyoudon’twanttopracticethatpart?”
Sherolledhereyes.“Youwish.”
“I’mjustsaying.Mighteasethenerves.”
Gianaignoredme,blowingoutabreathandrollingherlipstogetherbeforeshefinallystoppedwringingherhandsandstraightenedhershoulders.“Okay.Let’sdothisbeforeIpassout,orthrowup,orchangemymind,oralloftheabove.”
Herhandshotoutformine,andIsmiled,intertwiningmyfingerswithhers.AssoonasIdid,herbreathhitched,likeevenjustholdinghandswasnewtoher.
Ileanedinandwhisperedinherear.
“Fakeittilyoumakeit,Kitten.”
Sheflushed,lookingdownatthesidewalkasItuggedhertowardthestadiumdoors.Somethingsimilartonervesbubbledinmychest,too,asIscannedmyIDbadge,andthenwebothslippedintoperformancemode.
Inthelasttwoweeks,we’dbeensobusywe’dbarelyhadtimetosleep,letalonecomeupwithagameplanforthelittledealwemade.Fallcampwasbrutal,ablurofdailypracticesthatbledintoweighttrainingandmeetingsandwatchingfilm.Gianawascaughtupinherownbusyseason,fieldingreportersandmanagingthemediacircuseveryday,whichleftonlylateatnightbeforewebothpassedoutforustodiscusswhatwouldcomenext.
IconvincedherthatDepthChartDaywouldbetheperfectdayforourcoupledebut,andsheagreed—butthatwasaboutit.
Otherthanherholdingtrueonleavingmealonemedia-wise,andmeholdingtrueongettingmyselftogetherenoughfortheinterviewIknewIhadwaitingformeattheendoftoday,wehadn’tdiscussedmuch.We’dplantedseeds,sure—lingeringinthelockerroomafterpractice,walkingtogetheroncampus,buttoday…
Today,everyonewouldknow,andthegamewouldbegin.
Giana’shandtrembledabitinmineaswepushedthroughthedoors,thehallwaythatledtothelockerroomemptyandquiet.Icouldhearthesoftsoundsofvoicesandthedistinctclatteringofpadsandcleatsdownthehall,andIknewbeforewegottherethateveryonewouldbeintheirheadtoday.
Bytheendofpractice,we’dknowwhomadetheteam,whowasstarting,whowasbackup,andwhowasgone.
ChartDaywashuge.Therewouldbecoverageforitalldayoneverysportschannel,everyoneinthenationwhogaveashitaboutcollegefootballwatchingandassessing.EvenwhenIwasinhighschool,myteammatesandIwouldmakebetsandwatchtoseeifwewererightwhenitcametowhostartedforourfavoriteteams.
We’dalsodreamaboutitbeingusonedaywiththatnumberonespot.
GianaandIhadmadeitalloffifteenstepswhenLeoHernandezspilledoutoftheathleticcafeteria,ahalf-eatenmuffincrumblingashetookamassivebiteofitandhustledtowardthelockerroom.Buthestumbled,doingadoubletakewhenhesawmewithGiana.Henearlycrashedintothewallashegapedoverhisshoulder,hiseyeswideningatwhereourhandswerelacedtogetherbeforetheyglancedupatme.
Buthejustgrinned,tookanotherbiteofhismuffin,andjoggedtherestofthewaydownwithoutaword.
“Breathe,”ItoldGiana,squeezingherhandasweapproachedthedoorway.
I’dplannedthesetupjustright,knowingtherewouldn’tbeenoughtimeforquestionsfromtheguysbeforewe’dbecalledonthefield.Thiswasjustalittletastetogetthemtalking,togetthewordbacktoMaliyah—whowouldbeonthefieldwithusandtherestofthecheerleadingsquadforthefirsttimethisseason.
Ihadn’tseenhersincethebreakup.
Mystomachlurchedattherealizationthatthatstreakwouldendtoday.I’dhavetofaceherwhilealsoholdingmyshittogetherononeofthemostnerve-wrackingdaysoftheseason.IhadnodoubtthatI’dmadetheteam,butthatdidn’tmakethenervesanyless—especiallywhenIknewmyexwouldbetherewatchingwhenCoachhungthechart.
WhenGianaandImadeittothearchoftheopenlockerroomdoor,Iliftedherhandtomylips,pressingakisstothebackofherpalm.
“Seeyouafterpractice,”Iwhisperedagainstherskin,andIdidn’tknowifshefakeditorifitwasreal,buttheshy,seductivesmileshethrewbackatmewaspureart.Sheduckedherchin,squeezingmyhandoncebeforeshepeeledhersawayandjetteddownthehalltowheretheadminofficeswere.
Iwatchedhergo,smiling,andwhenIturnedtoheadintothelockerroom,atleastadozeneyeswerewatchingme.
SomehadthedecencytolookawaywhenIrealizedtheywerestaring,pretendingtore-tietheircleatsorstretchorwhatevertheyweredoingbeforeIshowedup.Butotherscouldn’tbebothered,likeZekeCollinsandhisgirlfriend,RileyNovo,whowerebothwatchingmewithmirroredexpressionsofconcern.Holdenwasdoingthesame,andmeanwhile,KyleRobbinsworeashit-eatinggrin.
“Well,well,”hesaid,poppingovertothrowhisarmaroundmyshoulder.“What’sgoingonthere,BigC?Yougoingsteadywiththeskirtnow?”
IshruggedhimofflikeIwasannoyed,butalsoplantedaslysmileonmyfacethatonlymadehimmoreeagertopryinformationoutofme.Fortunately,mytimingwasspoton,andourassistantheadcoachgaveashortblowofhiswhistletoletusknowitwastimetomakeourwayoutontothefield.
Iwaslastout,lettingeveryonefilepastmeasIquicklypulledonmypracticejerseyandcleats.Then,Ijoggedoutwithmyhelmetinhand.
Andforthemoment,GianaandMaliyahweretheabsolutelastthingsonmymind.
Ididn’tevenglanceatthecheerleadersalreadywarminguponthesidelineasIjoggedoutwiththerestoftheteam,allofusgatheringinthecenterofthefieldwhereCoachSanderswaswaitingtogivehispre-practicespeech.Islippedintothefamiliar,comfortablezonethatonlyexistedonafootballfieldforme.Thesmelloftheturfinvadedmysenses,thefeelofitbeneathmycleatslikecominghomeafteralongday,andwhenItookakneenexttooneofmyfellowdefensivebacks,focusedwasallIfelt.
WhereCoachusuallyhadtoblowhiswhistletogetusallquietbeforepractice,noonewastalkingtoday.Wekneeledaroundhim,onehandonourkneeandtheotheronourhelmetaswewaited.
CoachSanderswasoneofthebestinthenation.He’dmadewavesinhisshorttenureatNBU,turningateamaroundthathadaconsistentlosingrecordandhadn’tseenabowlgameindecades,tobeingatopcontenderagainforthefirsttimesincethe90s.Thefactthathewasinhisearlythirtiesonlyaddedtohowimpressivethatwas,andthetruthofthematterwasthatIdidn’tcarethathewasadickmostofthetime,thathewassevereandalmostnevergaveoutcompliments.
Irespectedhim,andI’dfollowhimintoaburningbuilding.
Hehunghishandsonhiships,browfurrowedashiseyeswashedoverallofus.“Mostofyouknowthedrillfortoday,”hesaid,sniffing.“Iusuallyliketowaituntilafterpracticetoeventalkaboutit,becausewehaveworktodo,butIknowit’sdifficultforanyofyoutoignorewhat’swaitingattheendofit.”
Hepaused,glancingdownattheclipboardinhishandbeforehethumpedhisfistagainstit.
“Ididn’ttakeanydecisionswiththislightly.AndIwantyoualltorememberthatnothing’spermanent.Youmighthaveanumberonespotandthengettakenoutbeforeourseasonopenernextweek.Youmightbeslatednumberthreeandendupstarting.So,nomatterwhereyouare,keepworkinghard,andkeepyoureyeontheprize.Understood?”
“Yes,Coach,”weallrespondedinsync.
Henodded.“I’llhangitoutsidemyofficeafterpracticesoyoucanseeitfirst,”hesaid.“Atfivethisevening,it’llbereleasedonlinefortherestofthenationtosee.Iexpectyoualltobereadyformediaafterfilmmeetingstonight.”
Myteammatesvariedinhowtheyreactedtothat,someofthemshiftinguncomfortably,whileotherssportedcockysmilesliketheyweren’tworriedintheleast.
Coachscannedallofusoncemorebeforehiseyeslockedonmine,andasubtletiltofhischintoldmeitwasmytimetotakeover.
Ijumpedup,pullingonmyhelmetasIyelled,“Whoarewe?!”
Onebyone,myteammatesfollowed,andachorussangbacktome,“NBU!”
“Whatdowewant?!”
“Whatallchampsdo!”
“Howdowewin?”
“Fightwithclass!”
“Andifallelsefails?”
“KICKTHEIRASS!”
Ithrewmyfistout,swallowedupinthenextmomentbyteammateafterteammatepilingtheirsontop.
“Rebelsonthree.One,two—”
“Rebels!”
Ihigh-fivedmybrothersasIpassedthem,knockedhelmets,smackedtheirasseswithwordsofencouragement,andliftedRileyupinaspinninghugbeforetellinghertogogive’emhell.
AndthoughIstilldidn’tlookwherethosepompomswavedonthesideline,Icouldfeelanall-too-familiarpairofbrowneyeswatchingmeasIjoggedtotheendzoneforourfirstsetofdrills.
Sweatdrippedintomyeyesbytheendofpractice,everymusclescreamingforreliefasIdraggedmyassintothelockerroom.Theheatwasbrutal,addingtothemiseryCoachDawson,ourDefensiveEndCoordinator,haddishedoutfornearlythreehours.I’drunsomanysprintsandtacklingdrillsIfeltwoozy,butIheldmychinhighasImarchedsidebysidewiththerestofmyteam.
Rileysloweddownatmyside,nudgingmewithanelbow.“Youkilleditouttheretoday.”
“Icouldsaythesameforyou,missforty-two-yardfieldgoal.”Iarchedabrow.“Youknow,thechartwasalreadymade.Youdidn’thavetoshowoutlikethat.”
“Didn’tI,though?”Shegrinned.
RileyNovowastheonlygirlonourteam—theonlyfemaleplayingincollegefootballatallatthepresentmoment.She’dhadtoovercomealotlastseasontogaintherespectoftheteam,mineincluded,butithadn’ttakenherlongtowinusallover.Now,weprotectedherlikeshewasourlittlesister.
Well,exceptZeke—whoprotectedherlikeshewashiswholedamnlife.
Oncue,Zekesweptinbehindherthen,tuckingherunderhisarmasheranhisknucklesoverheralready-frazzledhair.Sheswattedourkickreturneraway,butthenshewasbackinhisarms,leaningupforakissthatmademyheartacheasItoremygazeaway.
Iusedtohavethat,too.
Nowthatpracticewasover,Ididn’thaveanythingtofocuson,noreasontokeepmyeyesfromcontinuingtodriftovertowherethecheerleaderswerewrappinguptheirownpractice.Theyallworematchingbrick-redshortsandsmallwhitecroptanks,andashortscanofthemwasallittookformetofindMaliyah.
Long,brightblondehairswishedbehindherasshelaughedanddidalittlekick,tryingtoholdherfootupaboveherheadforsomesortofstunt.Shefelloutofit,laughingwiththegirlsaroundher,thosestrawberry-pinklipsstretchedoverherwidesmile.EvenfromhereIcouldseehowhercurvesstretchedagainsttheclothingshewore,curvesthathaddrivenmeandeveryotherboyatourhighschoolabsolutelymad.
Herbrowneyesflickedtome,andthesmilesheworefadedinstantly.
Iallowedmyselfonelong,torturousmomentofholdinghergaze,andthenIsniffed,turningbacktoZekeandRileyandpretendinglikeIwasengagedinwhateverconversationtheywerehaving.
Itwasalmosttime.
Whenweallfinallymadeitintothelockerroom,itwasapatheticshowofactinglikewewerepre-occupiedwithourlockersordufflebagsorcleatsuntilCoachtackedthecharttotheboardoutsidehisofficebeforeduckinginsideitandshuttingthedoorbehindhim.
Itwaspurechaosafterthat.
Playerafterplayershovedtogettothechart,someretreatingwiththeirfiststhrownupinvictory,whileothershungtheirheadsorkickedtheirlockers.Ihungback,sittingonthewoodenbenchinfrontofmylockerandwatchingasLeojumpedupanddownonhiswaytoHolden,ringinghimaroundtheneck.
“Anotheryeardominatingoffensetogether,QB1,”hesaid,crushinghisheadtoHolden’sliketheywerewearinghelmets.“Let’sfuckinggo!”
Holdengrinned,lettingLeomakeashowbeforehegentlyshruggedhimoffandgotbacktothehumbleappearancehealwayswore.
ZekehadRileyonhisshoulderswithinsecondsafterthat,totingheraroundastheycelebratedtheirspotsbeingsecured—whichwasasurprisetoabsolutelynoone.AndIdidn’tevenhavetomovefrommyseatonthebenchbeforeIwasjoinedbyReggieandDane,twoguyswhohadplayedinthesecondarywithmelastseason.
“Bout’tabebeastmodethisseason,boys!”Reggiesaid,bumpingfistswithDanefirstandthenme.Danewasasafety,too,andwewerealwaysinfriendlycompetitiontoseewhocouldgetthemostinterceptions.
“I’mcomingforyourrecordthisyear,Johnson,”heteased,holdinghisfistsinfrontofhisfaceanddoingalittlejukemovelikehewasaboxer.
IsuckedmyteethasIstood.“Fatchance,DaneyBoy.Youbettermakeacomfortablehomeinthatnumbertwospotbecauseyou’regoingtobethereawhile.”
Thejokesandcelebrationcontinueduntilweallslowlymeanderedtowardthecafeteria,wherewehadaboutanhourtoeat,catchapowernapifwewanted,ordowhateverelseweneededtodobeforewereportedforpositionmeetings.Thiswastheendofcamp,thebeginningoftheseason,andasgruelingasitallwasnow,itwasevenworseoncewewereexpectedtodoallthisandpassourclasses,too.
MychesttightenedwhenIfiledintothecafeteriaflankedbyLeoandZekeandsawMaliyahinthefoodlinewiththerestofthecheerleaders.
IwatchedherassubtlyasIcoulduntilshetookaseatatoneoftheroundtablesnearthewindowsfacingcampus.She’dletherhairdownfromtheponytailitwasinoutside,thatthickblondehairtumblingdownoverhershoulders.ThatsighttuggedatmyheartthewaymemoriesofCaliforniadid,thewaythoughtsofChristmaswithbothmyparentsdid.Sheremindedmeofhome,ofmyfamilyandhers,ofhowweallmeldedtogethertoformsomethingIthoughtwasunbreakable.
Itwassurreal,seeingherhere,inmyschool,mystadium,withmyschool’semblemstretchedacrossherchest.
Butitwashersnow,too.
Sourdispositionsettledlikeananchorinmygut.Itfeltlikeabetrayal,howshecouldtellmeallthroughusbeinglongdistancehowmuchshelovedme,howmuchshecouldn’twaittobeherewithme,onlytofinallymakeithappenandthendumpmelikeabucketofdirtywater.
Idly,Iwonderedifitwasherfather’sdoing.
CoryVailwasamanIcouldn’thelpbutrespect.Notonlyhadhesteppedupandsteppedintohelpmeandmymomwhenmydadleft,buthewasalsooneofthetoplawyersinthestate.He’dbuilteverythingonhisown,andthroughthat,he’dgarneredatasteforthefinestthings.
Hewantedthebest—bestcars,bestwine,bestseatateveryshoworgameheattended.
Andbestprospectforhisoneandonlydaughter.
Ialwaysthoughtthatwasme.
Maybeitwas,atonetime.Maybehesawmyfutureandhadfaithinmegoingpro,insettinguphisdaughterwithafuturehefoundsuitable.Ormaybehewasjustbidingtime,lettingouryoungloverunitscoursebeforeheplantedseedsinherheadthatshecoulddobetter.
Ormaybehehadnothingtodowithanyofthisatall.
Regardless,Iknewmyanxietywouldneverletitgo.I’dtossandturneverynightwonderingwhyshesosuddenlybrokeupwithme.
Buttoday,Ineededmyfocuselsewhere.
Itwasanefforttopeelmygazefromhers,andIschooledabreath,checkingmywatch.
Rightontime,Gianawalkedin.
Herhairwascompletelydrynow,thosecurlsfulloflifeandbouncingassheblewinthroughthedoor.Shesmoothedherhandsoverherskirt,rightingherglassesasshescannedtheroom.Whenhereyesfoundmine,Isawtheworrythere,sawhowherlittlehandscurledintofistswheresheheldherskirt,bunchingtheplaidfabricintheirgrips.
Shewassuchafascinatingenigmatome,somehowshyandbraveallatonce.Onemomentshe’dbehavingananxiousmeltdown,andthenext,shewasallchinup,chestpuffed,browbentindeterminationlikenothingcouldswayher.
Iwatchedasithappened,asshesuckedinalongbreath,squaringhershouldersandsettingherjaw.Iwonderedifshewasgivingherselfamentalpeptalk,butdidn’thavetimetodebateit.
Shetiltedherhead,justabit,askingwithoutwordsifthiswasit,ifthiswasthetime.
Inodded.
Andthenshetookoffinasprint.
ItwasquitepossiblythecutestthingI’deverseeninmylife,howherhairandskirtbouncedalonginsyncwitheverysteponherwaytome.Iwatchedasheadspoppeduptableaftertable,myteammatesandthecheerleadersandtrainingstaffalikewatchingasshebarreledtowardme.
Leoturnedwhenheheardtheslappingofherflatsagainstthetile.“Whatthe—”
Butbeforehecouldfinishthatquestion,Gianalaunchedherselfintomyarms
Icaughtherinawhooshofairandhairandasweetscentthatwashedovermelikeabaptism,oceanbreezeandsunflowers.Herarmswrappedaroundmyneck,minewoundaroundherhips,andIfeltthelaceofherstockingsasshecrossedherankleswheretheyhookedbehindme,thesmoothskinofherinnerthighbrushingagainstmywaist.
She’drunatmewithpureexcitementandconfidence,butthemomentshewasinmyarms,hersmilefaded,breathsquickandshallow.
Herwideeyeslockedonmine,felltomylips,andthenslowlycrawledtheirwaybackup.
IsqueezedwhereIheldherhips,focusingoneverythingwe’drehearsedandnotonthefactthatshehadherlegswrappedaroundmeinaskirt—whichmeantotherthanascrapofpanties,therewasnothingbetweenus.
“Youmadeit,”shebreathed,herlipsstayingpartedoncethewordsleftthem.
Whenwe’dpracticedinherofficeafewdaysago,we’dagreedshewassupposedtosaythatlouder,withgleeandexcitement.Youmadeit!You’reontheteam!Butnow,sheswallowed,strengtheninghergriparoundmyneckasIwrappedmyarmsfullaroundherandclosedeverycentimeterofspacebetweenus.
“WasthereevenadoubtthatIwouldn’t?”
Ibalancedherinonearm,freeingtheoppositehandtotracetheblushthatcreptalonghercheeks.Then,Itiltedherchinwithmyknuckles,watchingthosewideeyesofhersfluttershut.
AndIkissedher.
Idon’tknowwhatIexpectedwhenthisharebrainedideafirstcametomeinthatcoffeeshopbaracrosscampus,butwhateveritwasceasedtoexistthemomentmylipsfoundhers.
Iwassurprisedbythesoftfirmnessshemetmewith,tentative,butseeking.Shefrozeatfirstcontact,aninhaletrappedinherchest,butthensheslowlyexhaled,pulledmeintoher,anddeepenedthekisslikewe’dsharedahundredbeforeit.
ApeckwasallI’dexpected.EventhoughsheagreedwhenIsaidwe’dneedmoretobeconvincing,Ihadafeelingoncethismomentcame,she’dallowonlyaquickbrushofmylipsagainsthers.Then,I’dsmileanddrophertoherfeet,tuckingherundermyarmandpretendinglikeeverythingwasnormalwhileeveryonearoundusfreakedout.That’swhatI’dimagined.
IhadnotpreparedforGianatorollherhips,archingintomeandbreathinginanotherlongkisswithashockinglyseductivemoanbeforeIhadthechancetobreakcontact.Thatlittlemotion,howherasspokedoutandIfelttheheatofheragainstmylowerabdomenmademycocktwitch,andIgroaned,squeezingherhipbeforeIreluctantlypulledaway.
Ikneweverypairofeyesinthatcafeteriawasonus,soIcouldn’tsayaword.Isimplyarchedabrowtoletherknowthatwasquiteasurpriseofakiss,butsheonlyflusheddeeper,tuckingherchinandmakinghercurlswaterfalloverherfaceasIgentlysetherfeetbackontheground.
JustlikeI’dplanned,Itossedmyarmaroundher,kissingherhairbeforeIputmyhandatthesmallofherbackandguidedhertotakethespotinfrontofmeinline.
“Youbreathing?”Iwhispered.
“Barely.”
Ismiled,takingtheservingspoonoutofherhandwhenwepassedthemixedvegetables.“Youseemedalittlefrazzledwhenyoublewinhere.”
“It’sbeencrazyallmorning,”shesaidonaheavysigh,reachingoutforablueberrycakedonut,butthenpausingandmovingon.
IpluckedoneasIpassedandputitonhertraywhenshewasn’tlooking.
“Howwasitoutthereforyou?”ShenoddedatacutIhadhaphazardlycleanedonmyforearm.“Lookslikeitwasrough.”
“Itwasn’taneasyone,butatleastweweren’tinpads,”Isaid.“I’lltakethatanyday.”
Webothkeptourfocusonfillingourtrays,GianatellingmeaboutallthemedialinedupfortonightwhileIsmiledandnoddedandlistened.
Butwhenwehadourtraysfullandturnedtofindatable,wewerebothfrozenbythestares.
Gianaswallowed,glancingupatme,andIjustnoddedtowardthetablewhereHolden,Zeke,andRileywere.Shefollowedtentativelybehindme,andwhileIignoredeveryonestaring,Isawherscanningtheroomoutofmyperipheral.
ItookaseatnexttoLeo,butGianawasstillstanding,herlittlefingersclampedaroundtheredtrayinherhands.
“Actually,IthinkI’mgoingtotakemylunchintheoffice,”shesaid,forcingasmilethatIknewwascoveringthefactthatshewasabsolutelyfreakingoutathowmanypeoplewerestillwatchingus.“ThebuzzofChartDaydoesn’tstop.Seeyouonthemedialine?”
Ismiled,wrappingmyhandgentlyaroundherforearmandguidingherdownabitsoIcouldpressakisstohercheek.
“Can’twait,”Iwhispered.
Shecouldn’thidetheshysmileasshegaveasmallwavetotherestofthetableandduckedoff,weavingthroughthetablesuntilshewasthroughthedoorsanddownthehall.
Iwatchedhergotheentireway,andthesmileIworewasoneofgenuinesurpriseasIfinallyturnedbackaround,grabbingmyknifeandforkandcuttingintothepoundofgrilledchickenI’dpiledonmyplate.Ihadmyforkhalfwayliftedtomymouthwhenmyarmwaselbowedharshly,andthechickenwentflyingdowntothetable.
“Bro,”Leosaid,lookingbehindmewhereGianahaddisappearedbeforehestaredatmeagain.“Whatthefuckwasthat?”
Ishrugged.“What?”
“Whatdoyoumeanwhat?”Zekechimedinfromacrossthetable.“Areyoutwo…together?”
AslysmilewasallIgaveinanswer,cuttinganewbiteofchickenandpoppingitintomymouth.
Zekeshookhishead,RileywatchingmecautiouslyfromtheseatbesidehimasLeothrewhisarmaroundmyshoulder.
“Hellfuckingyeah,man.Gianaishotasfuck.”
ItoldmyselfIwasstillinactingmodeasIwentrigidathiscomment,turningslowlyinmyseattofacehim.Hissmileslipped,andhecoughed,removinghisarmfrommyshouldersandreadjustinginhisseat.
“Youknow.Respectfully.”
Igavehimawrysmilebeforeshakingmyheadandgettingbacktoeating,andthoughtheyallwaitedformoredetails,Ididn’tgiveasingleone,andtheyeventuallyletitgoandmovedontoothertopicsofconversation.
Afterafewmoments,Icasuallystretchedmyback,armsreachingupoverheadasItwistedleftandright.Mygazecaughtononeofthetablesofcheerleaders,onapairofwarmbrowneyesthathadoncefeltlikehome.
Maliyahwatchedmewithahundredquestionsbrewinginthoseirises,herjawtight,lipsalmostpursedbeforetheyspreadintoahesitantsmile.Sheliftedherhand,justaninch,asmallwaveatmefromacrossthatcrowdedcafeteria.
ButIsimplycrackedmyneckandturnedbackaround,finishingmylunchwithoutanotherglanceinherdirection.
Iworeasmugsmileonmywayoutofthatroomanddownthehalltothedefensemeeting.Atleast,untilHoldencaughtuptome,pullingmetoastop.
“Thatwasquiteashow,”hecommented.
“Gladyouenjoyedit.”
Holdenshookhishead,eyesnarrowinglikehewasontome.“Look,I’mallforyoumovingon.Godknowsyou’vebeenamiserablepricksince…”
Hedidn’tfinishthesentence,probablybecausemyglarehadturnedmurderousdaringhimto.
“But…Gianaisasweetgirl.”
Icrossedmyarms.“Andwhat,Idon’tdeserveher?”
“Ididn’tsaythat.”
“Whatexactlyareyousayingthen?”
Hesighed,scrubbingahandoverhischinbeforehelookedbackatme.“Justbecareful,man.Okay?She’snotarebound.She’snotthekindofgirlyoufoolaroundwithtomakeyourselffeelbetter.”
Therewassomethinginthesincerityofhisvoice,inthewayhelookedatmewiththatrequestthatrenderedmewithoutasmartassremarktocombatit.Ijustnodded,andhedid,too,beforeclappingmeontheshoulderandheadingtheoppositewaytowardhisownmeeting.
Myphonebuzzedinmypocket.
Giana:Well,how’dIdo?
Ismirked,continuingmywalkdownthehallasItypedback.
Me:Atriumphantperformance,Kitten.A+
Giana:IalmostpassedoutwhenIsaweveryonestaringatus.
Me:Iwouldhavecaughtyou.
Shesentbackaneyerollemoji,andthenthelittlebubblespoppedupthatsignaledshewastypingmore.
Giana:So,when’smyfirstlessoninseducingShawnStetson?
Icouldn’tcontainthelaughthatbubbledoutofme.
Me:Eagermuch?
Thistime,itwasamiddlefingeremojithatcamethrough.
Me:Namethetimeandplace.
Giana:Let’sjustgetthroughChartDayandgofromthere.IthinkI’vehadenough…excitementforoneday.
Me:Sokissingmewasexciting,huh?IthoughtIfeltalittlewetnessonmyabsafterIsetyoudown…
Giana:CLAY!
Anotherlaughbarreledoutofme,andItuckedmyphonebackinmypocket,duckingintothemeetingroom.ItbuzzedagainassoonasIsatdown,andIwasstillwearingmycockysmirkwhenIpulleditbackout,expectingastringofcursingtextsfromGiana.
Butitwasn’tGiana’snameonmyscreen.
ItwasMaliyah’s.
Andthewaitingtextonlysaidonething.
Hi.Giana
ItwasblissfullyquietinmybedroomtwonightsafterChartDay,thegentlehumoftheceilingfanandcracklingofmywood-wickcandletheonlysound.Iwasproppedupagainsttheheadboard,fuzzysock-coveredfeetfoldedunderneathmeasmylatestaddictionsatspreadlikeamapinmylap.
Onehandheldmybookopen,theotherkeptaconsistentstreamofcrunchyCheetosflowingfromthebowlbesidemeintomymouth.Myeyesracedacrossthepages,heartpickingupitspaceasNinowrappedhishandaroundFrancesca’sthroatandpinnedheragainstthedoortotheroomhewaskeepingherhostagein.
Havingmyownapartmenthadbeenabsolutelycrucialformeafterthehellishexperienceofhavingaroommatemyfreshmanyear.Ilearnedveryquicklythatgrowingupinalargefamilythatmostlyignoredmehadmademevaluemypersonalspace.
Icouldnotsaythesameformyroommate.
Twosemestersofherboundinginmyroomaftermidnightdrunkasaskunkandeithercryingtomeaboutaboyorsquealingtomeaboutaboy,andI’dhadenough.Nottomentiontheamountofdishesthatgirldirtied,orhowshecouldn’tbebotheredtoclearherhairoutofasinkorshowernomatterhowmanytimesI’dasked.
Thefinalstrawhadbeenwhenshe’dtakenastackofmybookswithoutasking—andnoteventoreadthem,buttousethemasadoorstopperwhileshebroughtingroceries.
Furysnakeddownmyspineevenatthememory.
I’dsavedandsavedandbeggedMomandDadtohelpfillthegapssoIcouldgetthisplace,atinystudioapartmentjustafewblocksfromtheNBUcampus.Itwassmall,old,andsmelledalittlelikemothballs—butIlovedit.AndsinceImuchpreferredtobealonethantobeinanysortofforcedfriendship,Iwashappyhere.
Andtonight,Iwasindulginginaself-carenight,oneIdesperatelyneededafterfieldingthemediacircusthathadbeenkeepingmebusyallweek.ThingswouldslowdownabitnowthatChartDaywasbehindus—atleast,untiltheseasonopenerthisweekend—andIwascelebratingthefactthatIsurvivedroundingupmorethantwo-dozenfootballplayersforinterviews,socialmediastunts,andfanappearances.
NottomentionthefactthatI’dsurvivedkissingClayJohnson.
Justlikeithadahundredtimessincethatday,thememoryofithadmypulseracing,andIletmybookflopagainstmychestasIreachedfortheglassofwateronmybedsidetableandgulpedhalfofitdown.After,Ijustsatthere,staringatmybookcaseatthefootofmybedasIreplayedit.
I’dbeenkissedbefore.Ihad.
TherewasRickyinthefifthgrade,whothrewadodgeballovertheplaygroundfenceandthenaskedtheteacherifwecouldgoretrieveittogether.Hepressedhislipsagainstmineandheldthemthereforthreeseconds—oneshecountedonhisfingers—beforerunningofflaughing.
TherewasalsoMatthew,theclosestthingI’dhadtoaboyfriend,whomadeoutwithmeinaveryslobberywayeverychancehecouldgetmyentiresophomoreyearofhighschool.Hewasalsothefirstonetostickhishandupmyshirt,whichdeterredmefromeverwantingthattohappenagainifallboysgropedashardashedid.
Butotherthanthat?
Iwasnotwell-versedinthesubject.
Well,unlessyoucountedmyromancenovels,whichwasaboutallIcouldthinkaboutthemomentIleaptintoClay’sarmsatthecafeteriawitheverysinglepersonwatching.
We’dpracticed.We’drehearsed.Iknewexactlywhattodo,whattosay,tomakeasceneandmakeitconvincing.Ifeltlikethemaincharacterinacheesyromcom,caughtupinacrazyschemewithaguywayoutofmyleague.Itwasthrilling.Itwasfun
Untilthemomenthecaughtme,andmylegswrappedaroundhim,andIrealizedtherewasnothingbetweenusbutmycottonthongthatsaidMondayonthecrotch.
Ithadstolenmybreath,thatrecognition,thewayI’dfelthisstone-hardabsbrushagainstmycenter.Butitwasnothingcomparedtowhenhetiltedmychinlikeacinnamonrollherowouldandkissedme.
Ididn’tmeantoleanintoit,toinhalethatkissandnonverballyaskformorewhenIarchedintohim.
ButIalsohadn’texpectedittofeelsogood
HeheldmelikeIweighednothing,hisknucklesstillthereundermychinashislipspressedsoftlyagainstmyown.AndwhenI’ddeepenedthekiss,whenI’dwrappedmyarmstighteraroundhisneck?He’donlypulledmecloser,alowgroanrumblingoutofhisthroatthatmadesomething…differenthappentome.Itsentasparkoffireroaringupmyinnerthighs,onethatsparkedatmycoreandhadmeflushinganytimeIthoughtaboutitsince.
ItalsohadmesalivatingatthethoughtofdoingitwithShawn.
Sure,itwasfunwithClay,butitwaspretend.Havinganactualboyfriendwhowouldkissmelikethatallthetime?Solong,I’dyearnedforthat.
AnduntilClayofferedmethisridiculousfake-datingsituation,Ihadn’trealizedhowdesperateIwastogetit,whatlengthsIwouldgo.
Now?
Iwasallin.
Mybosshadbeenassurprisedasthatcafeteriafulloffootballplayers,callingmeintoherofficeafterthemediahadfinallypackeditinandcrawledoffcampusthatevening.
“So.Iseeyou’vefiguredouthowtowrangleClayJohnson,”Charlottehadsaid,notsomuchaslookingatmefromwhereshewastypingawayonhercomputer.
I’dmerelypushedmyglassesupmynose,knowingaresponsewasn’twarranted.
“Becareful,”she’dwarned,butthenherlipshadtiltedintoasmileashereyesmetmine.“Andhavefun.”
Thatwasit.Permissiongranted.
IhadafeelingithadalotmoretodowiththefantasticinterviewClayhadprovidedESPN’sSarahBlackwellthananythingelse,butIdidn’tquestionit.He’dowedmethatmuch,attheveryleast.
Andnow,heowedmehispartofourlittledatingbargain,too.
Iblinked,comingoutofmythoughtsasIsettleddeeperintomysheetsandfoldedmybookopenagain.AnotherhandfulofCheetoswentinmymouth,andthenIproppedmybookonmychestandslippedbackintoanotheruniverse.
“Youforgetwhomakestheruleshere,Francesca,”NinowarnedagainstFrancesca’slips,hisbreathlikethehotmetalofagunagainstherneck.“Andwhohandsoutthepunishmenttothosewhobreakthem.”
Shepressedintohim,notbackingawayfromwherehisfingerswrappedaroundherthroat.“You’vebeendyingtopunishmeeversinceyoulockedmedownhere,”shespat.Andinamovesoboldshecouldn’tbelieveitwasshewhomadeit,FrancescawrappedherhandaroundthebulgeprotrudingthroughNino’sexpensiveBogliolislacks.“What’sstoppingyou?”
Hisgriponherthroattightened,andinthenextbreath,shewasthrownbackonthebed,gaspingasherairwayfinallycleared.
Ninotoweredoverher,handssteadilyunfasteninghisbeltashiseyesrakedoverherleanframe.
Iswallowed,heatcreepingdownmyneck,myspine,allthewaytomytoesasIsoakedinthescene.Onehandheldmybookopenwhiletheotherexplored,touchingmyneckthewayNinotouchedFrancesca’s,followinghisleadashetorturedherslowly.Iheavedasighasmyhandtrailedovermybreasts,andthenItiptoedmywaydown,slippingmyfingertipsbeneaththebandofmysleepshorts.
“Onyourknees,”hecommanded.
Ishuddered,lickingmybottomlipasIrolledmyhips,myhandslidinglower.Ispreadmylegs,wantingmoreaccess…
AndkickedthebowlofCheetosoffthebedintheprocess.
“Shit!”Icursedastheorangesnacklitteredmyfloor,themetalbowlthatheldthecrunchynuggetsclangingloudlyagainsttheoldwood.Ihastilyrolledoutofbed,smashingafewCheetostodustintheprocess,whichmademecurseagain.
Afteraquickcleanup,Ifloppedbackintomybed,staringatwhereI’dleftthatscenebookmarkedandclosedinthecenterofthebed.
Iwantedthatsobadly—thepassion,theneed,theheat.IwantedShawntolookatmethatway,withpossessivedesirerollingoffhiminplumes.IwantedhimtokissmethewayClayhad,forittonotbeajokeorapretense,butreal
Ichewedtheinsideofmycheek,consideringwhetherornotIshouldjustpickupwhereIleftoffinmyself-care.Butinstead,Irolledoverontomystomach,reachingforwheremyphonerestedonthewirelesschargeronmybedsidetable.Afewtapslateranditwasringing.
“Hello,Kitten,”Clay’svoicepurred,deepandseductiveinawaythatmademebelievehedidn’tevenrealizehewasdoingit.
Ichewedmythumbnail,butbeforeIcouldbackout,ItookabreathandspokeasconfidentlyasIcould.
“IthinkI’mreadyformyfirstlesson.”Giana
“Canyoufocus?”
“Oh,trustme,I’mfocusing,”ClaysaidFridaynight,lickingthepadofhisthumbasheswipedanotherpageofoneofmybooks.
Ihuffed,crossingmybedroomtoswipethebookoutofhishandsandputitbackontheshelf.ImadesureitwasinitsrightplacebeforeIheldupthetwodressoptionsagain.
“Whichone?”
“That’swhatIwanttoknow.WhichoneisCheyannegoingtochoose?”Heshookhishead,thrustingahandtowardthebookshelf.“Imean,herhusbandwholovesherandmadevows,orherfirstlovewho’sbackintownandcan’tlivewithouther?”
“Herhusbandisacheatingassholeandanarcissist,andRolandisGod’sgifttotheEarth.So,spoileralert,sherunsoffwithhim.”
“Scandalous,”Claysaid,quirkingabrowattheshelf.
Isnappedmyfingers.“Focus.”
Iheldupthehangersineachhand,andClayfoldedonearmacrosshisbarrelofachest,balancingtheoppositeelbowonhiswristashesmoothedahandoverhisjawinconsideration.
AfterI’dcalledhimtheothernight,we’ddecidedthiswasthebesttimeforourfirstlesson.Theseasonopenerwastomorrowafternoon,whichmeantCoachgavetheteamtheeveningofftorestandgetready.
Ofcourse,onlyabouthalftheteamwouldactuallyrest.Theremaininghalfwouldbeoutpartyingandhopinglikehelltheyweren’ttoohungovertoplayattheirbesttomorrow.
IimaginedClaywouldbeinthatlattergroup,hadhenotbeensaddledwithme.Butthiswasallhisideainthefirstplace,andIremindedmyselfofthatasIwaitedforhimtotellmewhatthehelltowear.
“Neitheroneofthemfeelslikeyou,”hesaidafteralongpause.
Isighed,thehangersdroppingtomysides,dressesonthefloor.“Ofcoursenot.Iboughtthemtodaywiththatexactintention.”
“Why?”Clayshookhishead,takingthehangersoutofmyhandsandcrossingtomycloset.Hestuckthedressesinhaphazardlyandthenstartedfilteringthroughmyclothes.
“Excuseme,”Isaid,slippingbetweenhimandmytwentyskirtsbeforeIpressedahandtohischestandpushedhimback.“Alittleprivacy,please?”
“Youaskedformyhelp.”
“Just…sit,”Isaid,pointingtomybedasIturnedbackaround.Ihungmyhandsonmyhips,nothappywithanythingstaringbackatme—atleast,notforthis.
TherewerenofashionguidebooksonWhattoWeartoSeduceYourCrushbyUsingYourFakeBoyfriend.
“Wearsomethingyoulike,”Claysaidfrombehindme,kickinghissneakersoffandloungingbackonmybedlikeitwashome.
ItwasunfairhowenticinghelookedinjustblackjoggersandagrayNBUt-shirtthathe’drippedthearmsoff.Butthatriphadhisbulgingbicepsandshouldermusclesondisplay,aswellashislatsunderneath,andmygazelingeredthereforamomenttoolongbeforeIbroughtmyeyestoamoredecentlocation.Ofcourse,thatdecentlocationwashisface,whichwasfreshlyshaven,hisslightlydampboyishhaircurlingabitaroundtheflat-billedcaphewore.
HereIwasstressingaboutwhattowear,andmeanwhile,Claywaspracticallyinpajamas,yetlookedridiculouslysexyandreadytotakehomethreesupermodelswithonesmirkandwinkcombination.
Hestartedthumbingthroughhisphone,oblivioustomecheckinghimout.“Youdon’twanttobeuncomfortable.It’llshow.”
“Butwhatifeverythingthat’scomfortabletomeisboring?”
Hestoppedtexting,archingabrowatme.“Trustme,nothingyouwearisboring.”
Igavehimaflatlook.“YouknowwhatImean.You’veseenthegirlswhosalivateoverhimatthefootofthestage.”Isighed,lookingbackatmycloset.“Idon’thaveanythinglikethat.”
“Youdon’tneedanythinglikethat.”Claysnappedhisfingers.“Oh!Wearthekittenskirt.Myfavorite.Makesyourasslook—”
“Don’tfinishthat,”Iwarned.“AndIcan’t.Iwaswearingthatlasttimehesawme.”
ClayblinkedwhenIstaredathimlikethatwasanobviousissue.
Igroaned,wavingmyhandathimandturningbacktothecloset.“Just…bequietsoIcanfocus.Andstayawayfrommybooks.”
“Yourporn?Surething.”
Irolledmyeyes,butdidn’tgracehimwitharesponseasIpagedthroughmyblouseoptions.IpausedwhenIcametoasimple,white,short-sleevedbuttonup,pluckingitoutandlayingitoverthebackofmydeskchairbeforeIstartedswipingthroughagain.
“DidItellyouMaliyahtextedme?”
Iwhippedaround.“Already?”
Clay’ssmirkwasthatoftheCheshireCatashenodded.“RightafterlunchonChartDay.”
“Wow,”Imused,turningbacktomycloset.“Thatdidn’ttakelong.”
“Allshesaidwashi.”
“Whatdidyousayback?”
“Nothing.”
Iwhippedaroundagain,holdingablackskirtwithlittlewhiteheartsstitchedalloveritinonehand.“Whatdoyoumean,nothing?”
Heshrugged.“Ididn’tanswer.”
“WhyonEarthnot?”
“Becausethat’swhatshewanted.IfIwouldhaveanswered,shewouldhaveknownI’mnotoverher,andthatwhetherornotyouandIaretogether,shestillhaspoweroverme.”Hehelduphisfinger.“Butbynotansweringher,IshowedherI’mnotbotheredintheleastbyherbeinghere,thatI’vemovedon.”
Iblinked.“Okay…”
ButasIturnedbacktofindtherightshoes,Ifoundmyselfshakingmyheadandwonderingifallthesegameswouldevermakesensetome.
“Trustme.IknowwhatI’mdoing,”Claysaid.“You’llseeaftertonight.Thatis,ifyoueverpickanoutfit.”
Iwassiftingthroughmydrawerofsocksandstockings,andIturnedlongenoughtopeghimwithabundled-uppairthatmadehimchuckle.
“Berightback,”Isaid,disappearingintomybathroom.
Tenminuteslater,IcamebackouttofindClayproppedagainstmyheadboardreadingoneofmymotorcycleclubromances.
“AmIgoingtohavetoputtheseunderlockandkey?”Ipluckedthebookfromhishands,holdingitoutofreachasheprotested.
“Withdirtysceneslikethat?Yeah.Probably.”Hewaggledhisbrows.“Isawyouputahighlightertabonthesoftchokingpart…”
Myneckburnedhotterthanithadinmywholelifeasmyeyesnearlypoppedoutofmyskull.Withoutthinkingbetterofit,IrearedthatbookinmyhandbackandpromptlythrewitatClay,whododgeditonlybyahair.
“Hey,noshame!”Helaughed.“JustinfoIwanttotuckawayforlater,”headded,tappinghistemple.
Inamiraculousfeatofstrength,Isuckedinalongbreathbeforesmoothlylettingitgo,holdingoutmyarms.“HowdoIlook?”
ClayswunghislegsofftheendofthebedandpulledonhissneakersashiseyesmadeaslowdescentfromwhereI’dputasimpleblackheadbandoverthecrownofmycurls,towhereI’dzippedupthefour-inchchunkyblackbootsaroundmyankles.Thewhiteblousepairedwiththeblackskirtperfectly,theheartsasweettouch,andI’devenbeenasboldastotietheendsofthebuttonupjustundermychesttoshowalittlemidriffasopposedtotuckingitin.
Idid,however,grabmycreamcardiganandthrowitoverthewholeensemble.
Clay’seyeslingeredontheblackknee-highstockingsI’dgrabbedinalast-minutedecision,makingmeself-consciousenoughthatIbentmykneestogether.
Finally,heletoutalowwhistle,risingtohisfeet.“Thisisgoingtobefun.”
Inarrowedmyeyes.“WhydoIgetthefeelingIshouldbescared?”
Butheonlylaughed,noddingtowardthedoor.“Comeon.Wedon’twanttobelateforyourboyfriend’sbigshow.”
“So,whatexactlyistheplanhere?”IaskedClayasheheldthethickmetaldooropenforme,everyounceoflightinstantlybeingsnuffedoutoncewedippedinsidethebar.Ittookamomentformyeyestoadjustandnotethesmilinghostessilluminatedonlybytwosmallcandles.
“Justfollowmylead.”
“Butwhatex—”
Icouldn’tgetthequestionoutbeforeClaywasleaninghiselbowsonthehostessstand,offeringtheslimbrunettebeautybehindithissignaturesmirk.
“Goodevening,”hesaid.“Tablefortwo,please.Booth,actually,”heclarified,andwinkedbackatme.
Ijuststaredathimdumbfounded.Whatdifferencediditmake?
“I’msorry,sir,butwe’rebookedsolidtonight,”thegirlsaid,twirlingastrandofhairbetweenherlong,onyxfingernails.
Claysuckedhisteeth,glancingatmejustasmyshouldersslumped.Butthen,hegrinnedagain,tappingonthewoodofthestand.“GoodthingIhaveareservation.”
Shelitupthen.“Oh!Wonderful.What’sthename?”
“Johnson.”
Thewomanslidherfingerdownalist,andthensmiledbroadly,gatheringuptwomenus.“Rightthisway.”
IhadtoadmitIwasshocked,somuchsothatClayhadtoholdhisarmoutforminetoluremefromwhereI’dbeenrootedinplacebythedoor.Hecurbedagrinaswefollowedthehostessthroughthedimlylitbar,onevastlydifferentfromthecasualplaceoncampuswhereShawnusuallyplayed.Thisonewasknownforfancycocktailsthatcostmorethanafullfour-coursedinnershould.
Still,Imarveledatthebizarrechandeliersandbusy,yetnottacky,floralwallpaperaswewoundourwaythroughthetables.Andweweredepositedinabackcornerbooth.
Rightnearthestage.
MystomachflippedatthesightofShawn’sguitarcase,ofthelong,charcoalgraybandanathathungoffthemic.Itwashissignature,oneI’dneverseenhimplaywithout,anditheldmyattentionasClayslidintoonesideofthesmallboothandItooktheother.
“Yourmixologistwillberightover,”thehostessassuredus,andhereyeslingeredonClayforlongerthannecessary—longenoughthatIcockedabrowlikeIwashisactualgirlfriend.Shecoughedwhenshesawme,gaveabriefsmileandexitedstageright.
Myfacesoftenedonceshewasgone,onlytoturnandfindClaywatchingmewithanarchedbrowofamusement.
“What?”
“Nothing,”hesaid,pickingupthemenu.“Youjustplayyourpartwell.”
Ipickedmineup,too.“Shemightaswellhavelefthernumberonanapkin.”
“Coaster.”
Iblinked,butClayjustsmiled,holdingupathinwhitecoasterwiththebarnamebetweenhisfingers.Isawwithouthavingtoinspectcloserthatshe,infact,hadsprawledhernameandnumberonit.
Irolledmyeyes.
“Don’tworry,Kitten,”Claysaid,scootingcloserandputtinghisarmaroundthebackoftheboothandthusaroundme,too.“I’mallyours.”
Ifoughttheurgetorollmyeyesagain,mostlybecauseourwaitresscameover.Iorderedagrapefruitmocktail,becauseunlikeClay,Ididn’thaveafakeI.D.,andIwouldn’tbetwenty-oneforanotheryearandahalf.Claypickedawhiskeydrinkthatwassostrong,ItookasiponceitwasdeliveredandfeltlikeIwasbreathingfire.
“I’mimpressedyoumadeareservation,”Isaid.
“Ididn’t.”
Ifrowned.“But,youjust—”
“WithalastnamelikeJohnson,Itookmyshot.”
“WhatiftheactualMr.Johnsonshowsup?”
Heshrugged.“We’llcrossthatbridgewhenwegettoit.”
Igapedathim.“Clay!”
“Alright,so,”hesaid,turningintheboothtofaceme.Iwastuckedintothefarbackcornerofit,aperfectviewofthestage.“Firstthing’sfirst.Shawn’sgoingtocomeoutandplayhisopeningsong,andthenyou’regoingtogoupthereanddropatwentyinhistipjar.”
“Atwenty?!”
“Moneytalks,sweetheart,”hesaid.“It’llgethisattention.Andinadarkbarlikethis,youneedtograbhimsomehow.Mostoftheothergirlswilltrytodoitwiththeireyes,suckingonthecherriesintheirdrinkswhiletheywaitforhisgazetolandonthem.We’retakingamoredirecttactic.”
Isnorted.“Okay.Andthen?”
Clayleanedback,crossinganankleovertheoppositekneebeforetakingalongpullofhiswhiskey.“We’llcrossthatbridgewhenwegettoit.”
“Isthatthephraseoftheevening?”Iaskedflatly.
BeforeIcouldluremoreinformationoutofhim,Shawntookthestage.AndunlikethecoffeebaratNBUwherehewouldhavehadaroundofapplausefromallthegroupiesthatfollowedhimaroundcampus,hereceivedonlyacourtesyglanceupfromwherecustomerswereconversinghere.Mostofthemwentrightbacktotalking,notbotheringtolistentohisintro—thoughtherewereafewtablesofgirlsrightupbythestagewholeanedineagerly.
Oneofthempoppedacherryinhermouth,herlushlipsrollingovertheswellofituntilshepluckeditfreefromthestem.
Claygavemealook,andIshovedhimunderthetable.
“Goodevening.I’mShawnStetson,andI’mgoingtoplayalittlemusicforyoutonight.”Hesmiled,runningahandbackthroughhislonghairashesettledonthebarstoolandproppedonebootunderneathhimonthelowerrungofit.I’dseenhimdoitahundredtimesbefore,andyetIstillfoundmyselfsighing,smiling,andleaningmychinintomyhandasIdreamilywatchedhimpullhisguitarstrapoverhead.
Clay’sbrowsbenttogether,gazedriftingfrommetoShawnandbackagainbeforeheshookhishead.
“Ifthere’sanythingyou’dliketohear,I’mtakingrequests.Butfornow,let’sstartwithalittleHarryStyles.”
Butterfliesflittedinmystomachasthefirstchordsof“Cherry”smoothedoverthecrowd,andIfoundmyselfsingingalong,feetboppingunderthetable.ItracedthestubbleonShawn’schin,wanderedoverthesilverofhislippiercing,andfellintohistranceashecroonedthesad,somehowseductivesong.
AflashofascenefromThoughtlesshitmeoutofnowhere,andmyheartjumpedwiththememory,withthefantasyallofthiscouldpotentiallyunlock.
Whenthesongwasnearlyover,Claycovertlyslidatwenty-dollarbillflatonthetabletowardme,andIswallowed,staringatitlikeitwasabomb,instead.
“Comeon.Lessonnumberone—makehimnoticeyou.”
Heallbutshovedmeoutofthebooththen,andIcaughtmybalancejustasShawnfinishedplaying.Again,whereIwasusedtoafull-oncheerafterheendedasongoncampus,heretherewerejustafewtablesthatclappedbeforeitwassilentagain,saveforconversationthatwentonregardlessofhimplaying.
Iheldmychinup,movingwithasmuchfeminineswaggerasIcouldmusterasIweavedinbetweenthetwotablesseparatingourboothfromthestage.Ofcourse,myswaggerwasaboutasstrongasmywilltoresistagoodHallmarkmovie,andsoItrippedoveratableclothandstumbledonmywayup.Irightedmyself,though.
Justintimeforhimtolookup.
MykneeswobbledwhenShawn’sgoldeneyesflaredatthesightofme,faintrecognitionatfirst,andthenpleasantsurpriseasIdroppedthetwentyintohistipjar.
“Thankyou,”hesaidintothemic,andIwatchedcuriositydanceinhiseyesbeforeheadded,“Anyrequest?”
Forasplitsecond,paniczippedthroughme.Wehadn’tdiscussedwhatIwassupposedtodoifheaskedifIhadarequest!Butsomehow,Iheldittogether,andsurprisedevenmyselfasIofferedaslightshrugofoneshoulderandsaid,“Playoneofyourfavorites.”
Shawn’seyebrowsrosealittlehigheratthat,anappreciativesmileonhislipsasIturnedandwalkedslowly,soslowly,backtothebooth.
Imanagedtogettherewithouttrippingthistime.
ShawnwasstillwatchingmewhenIsatdown,something…newinhiseyes.Hestartedstrummingoutthefirstnotesofhisnextsong,andhewasstillwatchingme.
Itfeltlikesomeonehadcrankedtheheatupthelongerhewatchedme,andIrealizedinthatmomentwhyitfeltsointense.
Becausehedidn’tjustlookatmeandthenlookaway.Hedidn’twinkatmeashisgazesweptovertherestofthecrowd.
Henoticedme.
IwasstillhighonthatthoughtwhenIfeltatouchthatstolemybreath.
Underthetable,awarmpalmsplayedthelengthofmythighsofastIsuckedinasharpinhaleatthecontact.IjerkedmyheadtowardClay,whometmewithlow,lazyeyesandacockycurlofhislipsthatlitmeonfirealmostasmuchashishandslippingafewmoreinchesupdid.
“Clay,”Iwhispered,thoughI’dintendedonitbeingascold.Itwasmorebreathyandquestioningthananythingelse.
Hedescendedonme,onearmbehindmealongthebackofthebooth,andtheotherstillonmythighashedid.Iinstinctivelybackedawayuntilhishandleftmylegandreacheduptocupmyfaceandholdmestill.
Onetouch.
Onesmall,simpletouch,butIburnedbeneathit.
Mylipsparted,Claypressinginonme,hisscentliketeakwoodandspiceasheranthepadofhisthumbalongmyjaw.Histhumbtrailedupthen,smoothingovermylowerlipanddraggingdownthecenterofit.Itastedhim,saltandwhiskey,andthenmylippoppedfreeandhetiltedmychinjustlikehehadinthecafeteria.
“GoodKitten,”hepurred,andthenhislipswereonme.
Notonmylips,butonmychin,alongmyjaw,crawlingslowlydownthelengthofmyneckasmyeyesrolledbackandIarchedtogivehimbetteraccess.Hislipswerewarmandsoft,delicatelypressingagainstmyskinashishandslowlysliddownthelengthofmyribsandunderthetableoncemore.Herestedthatpalmpossessivelyonmyknee,fingertipswrappingfullarounditandticklingtheinsideofmythigh.
Iwasintoxicatedbytheheadyrushuntilhepulledback,andwhenIliftedmyhead,ournosesmetinthemiddle.Myeyelidswereheavy,breathshallowandslow.
Foramoment,Clayseemedtoforgetwhathewasdoing,hisgreeneyesflickingbetweenmineashisgriponmykneetightened.Butthenheswallowed,leaninghisforeheadagainstmine.
“Lookathim,”hewhisperedagainstmylips,andthenhekissedagentletrailalongmyjawuntilhecouldnipatmyearlobewithhisteeth.
Itwasembarrassing,thelittlemewlthatrippedfrommewhenhedid,myeyesclosingautomaticallyasIgaspedandleanedintothetouch.ButIpeeledthemopeninthenextinstant,andjustlikeClaysaid,Idraggedmygazetowardthestage.
AndfoundShawnStetsonstaringrightbackatme.
Hewassingingasong,oneIdidn’tknoworcouldn’tidentifywithClaystillnibblingonmyearlobeandneckashisfingertipsdrewcirclesonmyknee.Myheartracedlikealeopard,sleekleapsandboundsacrossthejungleofmyrelinquishinginhibitionasIsuccumbedtohowitfelttohaveamantouchmelikethat.
Andhaveadifferentmanwatching.
TherewassomethingdarkinShawn’seyesashedid,hisbrowsbentsofiercelythelinebetweenthemformedashadow.Itwasanefforttokeepmyeyesopenandwatchinghiminreturnwithhowhotmycheekswere,howmybodytrembled,howmynipplespeakedandachedbeneathmyblouse.
“NomatterwhatIdo,”Claywhisperedintheshellofmyear.“Keepyoureyesonhim.”
Thesongendedandanotherbegan,andIlearnedthatstaminawasanotherofClay’sattributes.Henevertiredoftouchingme,teasingme,kissingalongeverybitofexposedskinhecouldfind.Heevenslidmyblousedownoffmyshoulder,suckingandbitingattheskintherewhileIwatchedhimbeforehedidasubtlenodformetoturnmygazebacktothestage.
Ididn’tknowhowlonghadpassedbefore,suddenly,hestopped.
Agaspexpelledfrommychestwhenhedid,andIlurchedforward,towardthenew,coldandemptyspaceheleftbetweenuswiththeact.
“I’mgoingtogograbadrink,”hesaid.
“What?Wehaveawaitress.She’llberight—”
Claystood,givingmealookbeforehemouthed,trustme
Ifrowned,notunderstanding,notreallybreathingproperlyafterhowevermanysongsofhavinghishandsandmouthonmelikethat.ButhejustturnedandwalkedawayjustasShawnfinishedthelastofhissong,andIrightedmyself,fixingmyglassesandhairandsmoothingahandovermyblouseandskirt.
“I’mgoingtotakealittlebreakandthenI’llbebacktoplayforyoubeautifulpeopleallnightlong.Don’tforgettoleaveyourrequests,”Shawnsaid,andthenheproppedhisguitaronthestand,runninghishandsbackthroughhishair.Heclickedafewbuttonsonthecontrollernexttohim,makingasoftsongfillthespeakers.
Thenextbreath,hiseyeswereonme.
Iblanchedashehoppedoffthestage,smilingatafewgirlsatoneofthetablesclosetohimashepassed.Oneofthemreachedouttohookhisarm.Helaughedatsomethingshesaid,andallIcouldmakeoutwasthathepromisedhe’dberightback.
Then,hewasheadedstraightforme.
“OhGod,”Imurmured,sittingupstraighterandprayingtowhatevergoddesswaslisteningthatIdidn’tlookhalfasmuchofahotmessasIfelt.Ididn’thavetimetocheckmyappearanceorfixadamnthingbeforehewasstandingrightthereinfrontofme,ashysmirkonhisfaceandbothhandsinhispockets.
“Hi,”hesaid.
Iblinked.“Hi.”
Hewatchedme,hiseyesfloatingovermyblouseabriefmomentbeforetheyliftedagain.Hethrewathumboverhisshoulder.“Thanksagainforthattip.Itwasverygenerous.”
Ismiled,somehowholdinginthesnort-laughthatthreatenedtobubbleover.“Well,Ilovelisteningtoyouplay.”
“Youcometothebaroncampus,don’tyou?”Hetuckedhishandbackinhispocket.“I’veseenyouthere.”
Hehas?
“Youhave?”
Iwantedtosmackmyselffornotkeepingtheincredulousnessofthatstatementinside,butitonlymadehissmilequirkupmore.
“HowcouldImissyou?”
Mybrowsshotupatthat,andforwhatIwassurewouldn’tbethelasttimearoundthisman,Iwasspeechless.
“Idon’trememberseeingyouwithClayJohnson,though,”heassessedcarefully,coolly.“Isheyour…”
Itwasendearing,howthewordsdiedonhislips,andhelookedlikehemightbethinkingbetterthantoaskbeforeIreplied,“Boyfriend?”
Shawngrinneddownatthefloorbeforemeetingmygazeagain.“God,thatwasacheapline,wasn’tit?”
Aline?
Washe…hittingonme?
“Well,he’saluckyguy,”hesaid,andagainIfoundmyeyebrowshangingoutsomewherenearmyhairline.
Shawnlookedlikehewantedtosaysomethingelse,buthejustgrabbedthebackofhisneckbeforepointingbacktowardthestage.
“Alright,well,Ishouldprobablygetsomewaterandmaketheroundsbeforethisnextset.ButI’mreallygladyoucametonight…”
Hepaused,waitingformetofillintheblank.
“Giana.”
“Giana,”herepeated,smilingaroundthesyllablesofmyname.“Seeyouaroundsoon,Ihope?”
Hedidn’twaitforananswerbeforehegavemeaknowingwink,turnedonhisheels,andmadehiswaythroughthecrowd,stoppingatthetableofgirlshepromisedtovisit.Hewaslaughingwiththemagain,buthiseyesflickedtome,andheheldmygazeuntilClayploppeddownintheboothnexttomewithafreshdrinkthathedidn’treallyneed,sincemostofhisfirstonewasstillthere.
Foralongmoment,Ijustsatthere,stunned,staringatthesleekmarbletableasClaytookalongsipofhisdrinkandsatback,casuallycrossingankleoverkneeandtossinghisarmaroundthebackoftheboothashewaitedformetosaysomething.
Islowlyliftedmygazetohis.“Whatthehelljusthappened?”
Claychuckled.“Itoldyou.”
“Hewalkedrightovertome.Hesaidherecognizedmefromcampus.He…Ithinkhewasflirtingwithme.”
Claycockedabrow,liftinghiswhiskeytowardmewithaknowingsmirklikehewasn’ttheleastbitsurprised.
Igapedathim,thenatShawn—whowasgettingsettledonstageagain—beforeIshookmyheadandfoundawaytozipmylipstogether.Ismackedahandonthetable,grabbingmymocktailandsuckinghalfofitdowninonegulp.IslammeditonthetablewithmoreforcethanIintended,turningtofaceClayheadon.
“Ineedmorelessons.Stat.”
Anamusedlaughwasmyonlyreply.Clay
Icouldstillremembermyfirstfootballgame.
Iwasalittletyke,fiveyearsoldandjustshyoffour-feettall.Irememberedthesmelloftheturf,thewaythehelmetandpadsfeltalittletoobigonmeasIjoggedoutontothefield.IrememberedthatIdidn’tknowasinglethingaboutwhatIwassupposedtobedoing,butitwasfuntorunandcatchtheballandgetgrassstainsonmywhitefootballpants.
AndIrememberedbothmyparentswerethere.
Icouldstillclosemyeyesandseetheirfaces—Dad’ssevereasheyelledoutwaystobebetter,whileMomwasonthevergeofcryingtearsofjoyandpridetheentiregame.Irememberedthemholdinghands.
Irememberedthemhappy.
ItwasoneofthelasttimesIrememberedthemthatway.
Everythingchangedafterthat—slowlyatfirst,andthenallatonce,likeasinglebookfallingfromashelfbeforeyourealizeditwasanearthquakethatwouldeventuallytakedownyourentirehouse.
Theystartedbyjustseparating,explainingtomethattheywerejustgoingtoliveindifferenthousesforawhile.“MomandDadjustneedalittlespace,”Dadhadsaid.“It’sgoodforparentstohavealittlespace.”
Butalittlespaceturnedintonotseeingmydadforweeks,andthenmonths,untilonedayhecamebywithastackofpapersinhishands.Irememberherolledthemintoatube,andIstolethemfromhimandwaspretendingthattubewasatelescope,andtheceilingwasaskyfullofstars.Itwasn’tuntilMomaskedifshecouldlookthroughthetelescope,andthenunfoldedthosepapersasshestartedtocry,thatIrealizedsomethingfundamentalinmylifehadshifted.
Dadsatmedownatourkitchentableandtoldmewewerestillafamily,evenifweweren’tgoingtolivetogetheranymore.
Dominoafterdomino,IwatchedmylifeasIknewitcrumblearoundme.
Butthroughitall,Ihadfootball.
Everyseasonstartedthesame,withthatfeelingofcominghome,ofthelastremnantsofsummerholdingonwhilefallsnuckinonthebreeze.Itwasalwaysmyfavoritedayoftheyear,theonethatfilledmewithhopeandjoylikeahotairballoonliftingslowlyintoaclearbluesky.FrommyfirstPeeWeegame,tothefirsttimeIranoutontotheNorthBostonUniversityfieldwithacrowdroaringinthestands,itwasadrug,powerfulandpure.
Butthistime…Ifeltnothing.
Ourfirstgameoftheseasonpassedlikeafoggydream,onewhereIdressed,ranthroughwarm-updrillsandplayedallfourquartersasifIweresleepingthroughtheentirething.Iwasthere,onthefield,nexttomydefensivebrothersasItackledandsprintedandleaptintotheairforaninterceptionthatwasnearlyapicksix.Islappedhelmetsandchantedcheers,wipedsweatoutofmyeyesonthesideline,liftedRileyontomyshoulderswhenthefinalwhistleblewandwewonthegame,andtalkedtothelineofmedialikeIwastheluckiest,happiestkidintheworld.
Butinside,Iwasnumb.
AndasmuchasIhatedtoadmitit,IknewitwasbecauseofMaliyah.
Seeingherwarmuponthesamefield,watchinghercheeroutofthecornerofmyeye,tryingtoignorethelooksshegotfromnotjusttheguysontheteambutthoseinthestands,too—itwasaslowdeathfromsippingpoison.
IwishedIwasstronger.IwishedIdidn’tcare.Iwishedforallthethingsinmylifethatcouldhavebrokenme,thiswasnottheonethatfinallydid.
Itwassupposedtobeus.
Itwassupposedtobeherkissingmebeforethegame,cheeringmeonasIplayed,leapingintomyarmsafterawin.Itwassupposedtobemynumberpaintedonhercheek,justlikeinhighschool,andmyjacketaroundhershoulderswhenthefallchillsetin.
Lastnight,I’dalmostforgottentheacutepainthatresidedinmychestwhenGianaandIhadgoneoutintheTheaterDistrictforherfirst“lesson”ingettingShawn’sattention.Iwassofocusedonhelpingher,onshowingherhowtoplaythegamethatIhadn’thadtimetoeventhinkaboutMaliyah.
Itwasawelcomedistraction,watchingGiana’sshockaswhatItoldhertodoworked,feelinghertrembleandpantbeneathmeasIteasedherinthatbooth,knowingitwasdrivingShawnmadtowatchit.
Iknew,becauseifIwerehim,itwouldhavedrivenmemad.
Iwassurprisedhoweasyitwas,howeffortlessitfelttokissalongherneck,towhisperinherearandelicitawaveofchillsoverherskin.Itwasamusingatfirst,apermanentsmileonmyfaceasIfoundwhichbuttonsIcouldpushtomakehergasp,orsigh,orarchintome,ordighernailsintomyflesh.
Butasthenightprogressed,thatamusementshiftedintosomethingprimal.
ThemoreIpretendedlikeshewasminetoteaselikethat,themoreitfeltlikeshereallywas.
Isoakedupeverylittlemewlthatescapedherlipslikeahard-fought-forreward.ItsurprisedmehowharditwastopeelmyselfoffherwhenIknewShawnwasabouttogoonbreak,andIhadtostiflealaughwhenIrealizedIwashardasarockwhenIstoodupfromourbooth.I’dhadtoadjustmyselfinmypantsandstandwithmycrotchagainstthebaruntilIcouldcalmdown.
Gianawasunexpectedlyaddicting.Herandherweirdbooks,heruniqueclothes,herinnocencethatshetriedsohardtocoverupwithunfalteringsass.
Shewas…refreshing.Andfun.
Butnotevenshecouldsavemefromthenumbnessoftoday.
“Iexpectpickslikethatallseasonlong,”Holdensaid,clappingmeontheshoulderoncewe’dallmadeitbacktothelockerroom.“Exceptnexttime,itbetterberuninforatouchdown.”
“Sir,yes,sir,”Ishotbackwithasalute.
Holdensmirked,tearinghisdamp,dirtyjerseyoffandlettingitdroptothefloorbeforehetiltedhischinatme.“Yougood?”
“Good.”
“Sure?”
Icrackedmyneck,givinghimalookthatIhopedtoldhimwhatIwouldn’tvoiceoutloud.No,Iwasn’tgood.Farfromit.ButIdidn’twanttotalkaboutit.
Hejustnodded,lipspressedtogetherasheranahandbackthroughhiswethair.“Allyoucandoisfocusonwhatyoucancontrol,”hesaid,almosttothegroundorhimselfratherthantome.
Inodded,thankfulthathewasn’tpushingit.
Wefinishedundressinginsilence,bothofusdraggingourassestotheicebathsbeforewetookshowers.Bytheendofitall,everymuscleinmybodywasscreaminginprotest—justlikeitdidattheendofeverygame.Fourquartersofputtingmymusclesandbonesandjointsthroughhellnevergoteasier.Infact,theolderIgot,themoretalentedIbecame?ThebiggerandbadderguysIwasfacingonthefield.
Icouldn’timaginewhatitwouldbelikeonceIwasfacingoffagainstthetanksintheNFL.
AsIfinallygotre-dressedinmysweatsandmademywayoutofthelockerroom,IpromisedtheguysI’dseethematthepartylatertonight.Ineededanapbeforethen,andmaybeafewdrinkstopre-game.
WhenIroundedoutofthelockerroomandintothehall,afamiliarlaughmademefreezeinplace.
Maliyah’ssing-songgigglefloateddownthehallway,wrappingitselfaroundmelikeawarm,esophagus-crushinghug.Ifollowedthesoundofitlikeshewasasiren,andIwasahelplesssailorontumultuousseas,onlytofindherleaningupagainstthewallameretwentyyardsaway.
KyleRobbinsstoodinfrontofher,hisarmproppedagainstthewallnexttoherheadashiseyesranthelengthofher.Heedgedinevencloser,whisperingsomethinginherearthatmadeherblushandlaughagain.
AndIsawred.
Myfistscurledatmysides,jawclenchingsohardInearlybrokeatooth.Idroppedmydufflebagtothefloor,tooktwostepstowardthemwiththeintenttomarchrightdownthereandbreakthatmotherfucker’snose.
ButtwostepswasasfarasIgotbeforeGianasprangintoview.
ShestartledKyleandMaliyahbothwhenshesprintedpastthem,hercurlsbouncing,glassesslidingdownthebridgeofhernosewitheverystep.Butherturquoiseeyesweretrainedonme,andIbent,readytocatchherbeforesheevenlaunchedherselfoffthegroundandintomyarms.
Justlikeinthecafeteria,shewrappedherlegsaroundmywaist,breathwhooshingoutofheratthecontact.Herarmsthreadedaroundmyneckandmyhandscaughtherass—herbareassundertheskirtshewore.Itwasapparentlysomethingshehadn’tthoughtaboutbeforejumping,becauseshockwashedoverher,facepalingatthefeelofmywarmthagainsther.
Itlastedonlyasecond,though,becauseinthenext?Shewaskissingme.
Hermouthcollidedwithminealmosthardenoughtodrawblood,andshefistedherhandsinmyhairstilldampfromtheshower,writhingagainstme.AsoftwhimpervibratedthroughherasIheldhertighter,andshewasbreathlesswhenshefinallypressedherhandintomychestandbrokethekiss.
Iheavedabreath,andherchestroseandfellintandemwithmineasIstaredatherred,swollenlips.Slowly,mygazeliftedtohers,andthosebrighteyesshotwider.
“I’msorry,”shewhispered,fixingherglasses.“Ijust,Isawthem,andIsawyou,andIthought—”
Icutofftherestofherwordswithmyhandbehindherhead,guidingherintomeforanotherbruisingkiss.Thistime,Ipinnedheragainstthewall,andshegaspedwhenmyabdomenrubbedalonghercenter.
Pressingmyforeheadtohers,Ipulledback,rollingmylipstogether.“You’repickinguponthisgamequickly,Kitten.”
Sheflushedagainstasmile.“I’vegotagoodcoach.”
Someoneclearedtheirthroat,andGianaandIturnedtofindZekeandRileywalkingoutofthelockerroomholdinghands.Zekehikedaneyebrowatwherewewerelockedtogether,mywaistbetweenGiana’sthighs,andRileyblushedsohardshehadtolookdownatthegroundandawayfromus.
“Seeyouatthepit?”Zekeasked,ashit-eatinggrinonhisface.
Ididn’thavetoanswer.GianaburiedherfaceinmychestandIkissedherhairasZekeandRileywalkedby.FollowingthemallowedmygazetodriftdowntoKyleandMaliyah,whowerebothstaringrightbackatme.
Kylelookedsuspicious.
Maliyahlooked…challenged
Ididn’tallowmygazetolinger,pullingitbacktoGianaandtiltingherchinupwithmythumbandforefinger.“You’recoming,too.”
“Comingwhere?”
“TheSnakePit.”
“Thedowhatnow?”
Ibarkedoutalaugh,carefullydroppingherfeettothegroundandtuckingastraycurlbehindherear.“It’sapartyhousewheresomeoftheupperclassmenguysontheteamlive.Whensomeonewholivestheregraduates,anewteammatemovesin,andit’swherewecelebrateaftereveryhomewin.”Imadeaface.“It’skindofdisgusting,honestly,butjustdon’tlooktoocloselyatthefloorsorcrevicesandyou’llbefine.”
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid,wrinklinghernose.“Iwaskindoflookingforwardtoanightinafterbeingoutsolatelastnight.”
“Oh,that’stoobad,”Isaid,bendingtoretrievemydufflebagandwalkingtowardtheexit.“Becausesomeoneyouwanttoseewillbethere.”
Gianascrambledtocatchuptome,tuggingonmysleeve.“Wait,really?Shawn?”Sheshookherhead.“Whythehellwouldhebeatafootballparty?”
“BecauseI’llinvitehim,”Isaid.“Andhe’llshithimselfbeforesayinghe’sin.Probablyshowupwithabottleofwineasagiftorsomeshit,too.”
Gianarolledhereyes,butanexcitedsmilespreadonherlips,alittlebounceinherstepaswewalked.
AndrightaswepassedMaliyahandKyle,Ireacheddown,threadingGiana’ssmallhandinmine.Giana
“Chug!Chug!Chug!Chug!”
Iduckedoutofthewayjustintimetododgeabeerfunnelbeingliftedupovermyhead,butdidn’tmoveinenoughtimetoescapethedribletsthatsloppedovertheedgeofit.Beerspritzedintomyhairandonmyshoulders,andClaylaughedatmyexpressionofhorrorbeforegrabbingmyshouldersandguidingmeofftotheside.
TheSnakePit,asClayhadcalledit,wasalargehouseinasurprisinglyniceneighborhoodthatwascurrentlydark,loud,andcrawlingwithNBUstudents.ADJspunpopulartracksinthemainlivingroom,theoldcoucheswithtorncushionspushedofftothesidestomakewayforagiantdancefloor.Lightsflaredandflashedallcolorsoftherainbowaroundthescene,girlsdancingandguystryingtofindawaytojointhem.
“Iloveheroutfit!”IyelledoverthemusictoClay,pointingtowardagirlinthemiddleofthedancefloor.Sheworeawhitetopthatcriss-crossedoverherslightcleavage,accentuatinghertonedstomachandpairedwithshortsthatdidheralreadyleanlegsafavor.Herhairwaslongandcurleddownherback,makeuplikethatofamoviestar.
“That’sOliviaBradford,”Clayyelledback.
“Bradford?”Myeyesshotopen.“Asintheuniversitypresident?”
“That’shisdaughter.”
Iassessedheragain,evenmoreimpressedwithheroutfitknowingshehadasternfatherwhoranoneofthetopuniversitiesinNewEngland.
Myeyescontinuedscanningtheparty,takinginthevariousgamesofbeerpongandflipcuphappeningallaroundthehouse.Therewerepodsofstudentslaughingandtalking,drinkingandmakingout,and—tomysurprise—evendoingdrugs.Thoughnoneofthefootballplayerswereinthosespecificcircles.They’dlosetheirscholarshipsandpositionontheteamiftheywere.
“Thisiskindofoverwhelming,”Iadmitted,butitwasn’tanxietysimmeringinmygut.Itwas…excitement.
Iwasatacollegefootballteamparty.
Itfeltlikesomethingthatwouldhappentoacharacterinoneofmyfavoritenew-adultbooks,andIfoundmyselfeagertogetintotrouble,totrysomethingnew,todanceorplaybeerpongor—
MythoughtswereinterruptedwhenShawnStetsonslippedintomyview,acalm,confidentsmileonhisfaceasheweavedthroughthecrowd.Hecouldn’tmakeitmorethanafewstepsbeforeagirlwasgrabbinghimbythearmorbeltloop.Ididn’thavetoreadlipstoknowtheyweretellinghimhowmuchtheylovedhismusic,howmuchtheylovedhim.Itwasallwritteninthefake-blushhewore,andthewayhemouthedthankyouoverandoveragain.
Hewasn’tmodest.Hedidn’tneedtobe,notwithhowhothewasorhowuniquelyvelvethisvoicewas.ItwaslikeCalebFollowillfromKingsofLeonhadachildwithAdele,andtheybestowedthebestofboththeirvoicesontotheirbouncingbabyboy.
Clayclearedhisthroat,rightupnexttomyearsoIcouldactuallyhearit,andIbitmylipagainstaflushwhenIturnedtofindhimwatchingmewatchingShawn.
“Readyforthegameplan?”heaskedwithagrin.
Andjustlikeafootballplayertuggingontheirhelmetbeforehittingthefield,Inodded,expressionserious.“Ready.”
Claypulledmeunderhisarm,socloseIfelteveryinchofhisbodypressedagainstmineashespokelowintomyear.“I’mgoingtoignoreyou,”hesaid.“Hangoutwithmyfriends,maybeflirtwithsomeothergirls.Usethattoyouradvantage.Talkalittleshitaboutme.”
Ifrowned.“What?ToShawn?”
Claynodded.“Drophintsthatyou’reunhappy,thatyou’reusedtobeingignoredinsituationslikethis.”
“Thatmakesyouseemterrible.”
Heshrugged.“So?That’sthepoint.It’lltakeShawn’spiquedinterestandturnitintoaburningdesiretosaveyouandshowyouwhatyoudeserve.”
“That’scliché,”Isaidonasnort.“Andridiculous.”
“HaveInotproventoyouyetthatIknowwhatI’mdoing?”Claypulledbackenoughtohikeabrowincredulously.“Justtrustme.Oh,andinvitehimtohangoutwithyousomewherealittlelesschaotic.Maybesayyouneedsomeair.Youcanaskabouthismusic,strokehisegoabit.”
Ishookmyhead.“You’realittletoogoodatthis.”
Clayjustsmiled,glancedbackinthedirectionofShawn,andthenslippedintoamoreseverepersona.Itwasthewildestthing,towatchhowheschooledhisfeatures,lookingboredandalmostalittlepissedoffasheliftedtheredplasticcupinhishanduptohislips.Withalongpullofhisbeerandhiseyesnowherenearlookingatme,hesaid,“Goodluck,”anddisappearedthroughthecrowd.
Iwatchedhimgo,watchedashehigh-fivedafewplayershewalkedbybeforejoiningLeoHernandezinthekitchen.ItjustsohappenedtobewhenLeowasliningupshotglasses,andhepouredanextraoneforClayoncehejoined.
Except,theydidn’ttaketheshotsoutoftheglasses.
Instead,Leoclearedthekitchencounterwithasweepofhisforearm,litteringthesinkandfloorwithplasticcups,discardedlimewedges,andwhoknewwhatelse.Heturnedtothegirlbesidehimthen—Olivia,Irecognized,fromthedancefloor—andwrappedhishandsaroundherhipsbeforeliftingherontothecounter.Shelaidback,flushedandgigglingashelinedherstomachwithsaltandpooledahealthyamountoftequilainthevalleyofherabsandbellybutton
Iwatchedhimdoabodyshotoffherasshesquirmedbeneathhim,andthenassoonasshehoppeddown,anothergirlcrawleduptotakeherplace.
Claydidn’tevenhesitate.
Leopouredthebodyshotinjustthesamefashion,andClaybithisbottomlip,eyeshoodedwheretheyappreciatedthegirl’samplecleavageheaveasthecoldliquidmetherskin.Hismassivehandscamedowntoframeeithersideofher,andheplacedalimewedgeinhermouthwithawickedgrinasshewatchedwide-eyed.
Icouldn’ttearmyeyesawayasherantheflatlengthofhistonguealongthesaltonherstomach,ashisfingertipsdugintoherskinwhilehesuckedandlickedthattequilaoffher.Then,hewashoveringoverherface,andhebentslowlyandseductivelytobitethelimewedgeinhermouth.
Foronlyabriefsecond—then,thelimewasgone,andhismouthwasonhers
Painspikedthroughmychestlikeanicepick,intensifiedwhenthegirlthreadedhermanicurednailsthroughhishair.Sheopenedhermouthtolethisin,andthoughtheswipeofhistongueagainstherswasonlyasplitsecond,itmademyneckheat,mademystomachturn,mademe…
What,exactly?
Istaredandstaredatthem,tryingtodissectwhatIwasfeeling,butdidn’tsolvethepuzzlebeforeahuskyvoicewasatmyear.
“Shedoesn’tholdacandletoyou.”
Ishivered,theroughliltofsyllablestumblingdownthebackofmyneckandleavingchillsintheirwake.Iangledmyhead,findingShawnstaringdownatmewithaplayfulgrin.
Ilaughed.“Yeah,”Isaid,butwithouteventrying,withouthavingtofakeit…myeyestrailedbacktoClay.“Sure.”
Iwatchedashehelpedthegirloffthecounter,hishandsstayingatherwaistonceshewassafelyonthefloor.IknewI’dstaredfortoolongbecausewhenIglancedbackupatShawn,hewaswatchingmewithhisbrowsfoldedtogether,withpityandsomethinglikelonginginhisgoldeneyesbeforeheleanedclosetowhisperinmyear.
“Wanttogetsomeair?”
WhilethefrontyardoftheSnakePitwascrawlingwithstudents,thebackyardwasaserenegarden,ahiddenoasisthatitseemednoonebotheredtoinvestigatebecauseitwasfartooquiettobepartoftheparty.ShawnandIwalkedbyasmallpodofpeoplepassingaroundajointbeforewefoundabenchalongthestonepath,abubblingbirdbathandfeederinfrontofitalongwitharosegardenthatIwasfairlycertainhadtobelandscapedbyapaidcompany.
Nowaywasthereacollegefootballplayerwiththatgreenofathumb.
Shawngesturedtothebenchformetositfirst,andonceIhad,hesatrightnexttome,histhighbrushingtheoutsideofmine.Mycheeksheatedatthecontact,butheseemedunfazed,simplyrecliningandwideninghisstanceashethrewanarmalongthebackofthebench.
“Colormeimpressed,”hemused,eyestrailingoverthegarden.
Ichuckled.“Yeah,notexactlywhatIexpectedtofindbackhere.Iwasassumingit’dbemoreofatrash-litteredpatchofdirt.”
“Isityourfirsttimehere?”
Ituckedmyhandsundermythighs.“Yes.Although,fromthetimeI’vespentinthelockerroom,I’mprettyusedtothenoiselevel.Andthesmell.”
“Thelockerroom?”Shawnfrowned.
“I’mthePublicRelationsAssistantCoordinatorfortheteam,”Iclarified
Shawnsatupalittlestraighter.“Noshit?”Heshookhishead.“You’rejustfullofsurprises.Forgiveme,but…Ican’tpictureyouinthatroleatall.”
“That’spartofthereasonwhyIpickedit,”Isaidwithasmile.“Whowouldlookatmeandseesomeoneconfidentenoughtobossaroundginormousfootballplayers?”
“IguessIshouldexpecttheunexpectedwithyou,shouldn’tI,Giana?”
Shawnofferedmealazysmile,andIbittheinsideofmylip,heartpickingupitspaceinsidemychest.Iwassousedtostaringathimonastage.Itwasunnervingtohavehimstaringback,andsoclosely.
Talkabouthismusic
Clay’swordssnappedmebacktothepresent.“I’msurprisedyoudon’thaveagigtonight,”Icommented.
Shawnrelaxedintothebench.“IliketotakeaSaturdayofffromtimetotime.Andbelieveitornot,I’maprettybigfootballfan.Iwouldn’tmissthefirstgame.”
“Itiskindofhardtobelieve,”Iadmitted.“Thatsomeonesoartisticwouldalsobeafootballjunkie.”
“What,Ican’tsingJohnMayersongsandalsopainttheschoolcolorsonmychestandscreamlikeabansheeinthestands?”
Ichuckled.“Bodypaint?NowthatI’dliketosee.”
Itwasajoke,lightandeffortlesswhenIsaidit,butShawncockedabrowattheinsinuationthatIwantedtoseehisbody,andIinstantlypaled.
“Um.Imean,theschoolspirit,ofcourse.Notthebodypaint.Orthebody.NotthatIwouldn’tliketoseeyourbody.Imean,notthatIwould—”
Shawnjustsmiled,lettingmerambleon,notraceofanyintentiontostopmefromembarrassingmyselffurther.SoIclampedmymouthshut,buryingmyfaceinmyhands.
“Sorry,”Imurmuredthroughthem.“It’sbeenalongnight.”
WhenIpeekedbackathim,hissmilewasgone,concernetchedintohisfeatures.“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
Ifrowned,wonderingwhathemeant,andIwasjustabouttotellhimIonlymeantthatIwasalittletiredafterstayingoutsolatelastnightwhenIrealizedhewasreferringtoClay.
Talkalittleshitaboutme
Ifoldedmyarmsovermychest,sinkingback.“Notreally.”
Iaimedforsad,poorneglectedgirlfriendasItrainedmygazeonmykittenheels,notofferinganythingfurther.
“Ishealwayslikethat?”
Thequestionwassoft,timid,likehewasn’tsurehewasallowedtoaskit.
Ishrugged.“He’safootballplayer.Itdoesn’tmeananything.He’sjustplayingthepart.”
Iwassurprisedhoweasythatexcusetumbledoutofme,andsurprisedevenmorewhenShawnslidalittlecloser,onehandcomingdowntotouchmykneegently.Hewaiteduntilmyeyesflashedtohis,andIwonderedifhecouldhearthewaymyheartacceleratedatthefeelofhishandonme.
“Itmeanssomethingifithurtsyou.”
Imeltedatthewords,athowsincerehisexpressionwas.Itwasalinestraightoutofaromancenovel,furtherprovingtomethatShawnStetsonwasabonifiedbookhero.Mylipspartedtoanswerhim,butthenhiseyesfelltomymouth,andanyattemptatspeakingfailedme.
HestaredandstaredasIheldmybreath,andslowly,hiseyescrawledbackuptomine.Thathandonmykneetightened,justafraction,andheleanedin,justacentimeter,hislipsontrackformine…
“Thereyouare,Kitten.”
Shawnjumpedback,tearinghishandfrommykneeandscootingacouplefeetawayonthebenchjustintimeforClaytoroundthecorner.Heworeathreateninggrin,oneheaimedatShawnbeforeitturnedsoftertowardme.
“Clay,”Ibreathed,genuinelysurprisedasIhoppedtomyfeet.Ididn’tevenneedto,butIsmoothedahandovermyskirt.Itwasapparentlybecomingmyfavoritenervoustic.“ShawnandIwerejustgettingsomeair.”
“Iseethat,”heassessedcoolly,andagain,hismenacinggazeslippedtoShawn.Iwatched,impressed,ashisnoseflaredabit,hisjawtightashegaveShawnaonce-over.
Lookathim,playingthejealousboyfriend.
“Comeon,”hesaid,reachingformyhand.Itallbutdisappearedinhisashetuggedmetowardthehouse.“RileyandZekewanttoplaypong.”
Ifrowned.“ButZekedoesn’tdrink.”
Claygavemealook.“Rileywilldrinkdoubleforhim.”HebarelylookedatShawnashesaid.“Seeyouaround,Steve.”
“Shawn,”hecorrected,hisfrownjustassevere,chestpuffed.
Claydidn’tentertainhimwitharesponse,justthrewhisarmaroundmeandleanedintowhisperinmyear.“Lookbackathimwhilewewalkaway.”
Iswallowed,doingashesaid,andwhenmyeyesmetShawn’s,hewaswatchingmewithamixbetweengut-wrenchingpainandpassionatejealousy.Heopenedhismouth,butItoremygazeaway,backtofaceforwardasClayweavedusdownthestonepathtowardthehouse.
“Whydidyoucomegetme?”Iasked,glancingupathim.“Itwasgoingwell.”
“Ican’tletyouhangoutwithanotherguyfortoolongbeforeitgetssuspicious,”Clayansweredeasily.
Ishookmyhead.“Helookedlikehewantedtomurderyou.”
“Thentheplanisworking.”
Ilaughed,butthesounddiedinmythroatwhenweslippedbackintotheloudhouseonlytoquiteliterallysmackintoMaliyah.
“Oh!”Shebouncedbackinsurprise,andClay’shandshotouttorightherbeforehecouldeventhinkbetterofit.Iknew,becauseinthenextinstant,theireyeslocked,bothofthemswallowinghard.
Itwaslikebeinginthepresenceofmoviestars,seeingthetwoofthemtogether.Theywerebothtall,fartoogorgeousfortheirowngood,andhadthekindofenergythatmadeothersintheroomrevolvearoundthem.Iglancedatherandthenathim,backandforth,andagainfoundmyselfwonderinghowthehellsomeonelikemewassupposedtomakeherjealous.
Clay’sarmlingeredaroundher,hisbreathshallowbeforehefinallyreleasedherandresumedhisgriparoundme.
“Clay,”shesaid,herdoeeyesflickingtomenext.
Ismiled,thinkingshemightintroduceherself,butinstead,hereyesrakedoverme,browarchinghigherasshetookineveryinchofmyoutfit.
“Maliyah,let’sgodance,”agirlIhadn’trealizedwasstandingbehindhersaid.Shehadlong,jetblackhairandtattoosliningherleftarm—whichMaliyahthreadedherownthroughbeforelettingthegirltugheraway.
Sheflickedherhairoverhershoulder,notlookingback,butonceshehitthedancefloor,hereyesfoundClayautomatically.
Whatthefuck?
SheclearlyknewClaywasfrazzledfromrunningintoher,andratherthantalkingtohim,shewaspurposefullydancingwhilelookingathim.Shewouldn’tdothatifshedidn’tcarethatweweretogether,ifshedidn’tstillwantClay.
Butifshewantedhim,whywouldn’tshejusttakehim?Shecoulddoit—righthere,rightnow.
Igroundmyteeth.“Whatishergame?”Iasked,lookingupatClay.
Helookedlikeasickpuppy,facealmostgreenashewatchedherinreturn.“IwishIknew.”
Inarrowedmyeyes,thensquaredmyshoulders,grabbinghishandinmine.“Comeon.”
Ididn’tknowwhatmyplanwasasIdraggedhimthroughthatcrowd,butImadesuretoparaderightinfrontofthedancefloorbeforesqueezinginononeofthecouchesliningthewallfacingit.IpulledClaydowntositnexttome,andthespacewassotightfromtheotherpeopleonitthatIwascrushedbetweenhimandthearm.WhenIwiggledoutofthevisegrip,Iwashalfinhislap,tuckedunderhisarm,consumedbyeverytenseinchofhim.
“Lookatme,”Isaid.
ClaydraggedhisgazefromwhereMaliyahwasonthedancefloor,andIframedhisfacewithmyhands.
“Ifyou’renotplaying,you’relosing,remember?”Irolledmylipstogether,swallowingpasttheknotforminginmythroat.“So,let’splay.”
Clayfrowned,tiltinghisheadtotheside.
“Useme,”Iclarified.“Makeherrememberwhatyouhad.Showherwhatshe’smissing.”
Clayarchedabrow,glancingaroundbeforehiseyesmetmineagain.“Itwon’tbejustherwatching.”
“Itrustyou,”Ibreathed,andthenItangledmyfingersinthehairatthenapeofhisneckandpulledhimintome.
Ishouldhavebeenusedtoit.
Ishouldhavebeenstruckwiththefactthatitwasfake,allpretend,everytimehislipsmetmine.Butitwasthesameshockofsurprisethatflittedthroughme,andmybreathcaughtinmychest,heartplungingoffthehighestdivingboardintoapoolofwhitehotfireashekissedme.
Clayinhaledadeepbreaththroughhisnose,onehandwindingaroundthesmallofmybackwhiletheothercradledthebackofmyheadandheldmetohim.Hischestswelledagainstmine,andthenhetiltedmychinwiththetipofhisnose,demandingaccesstomyneck.
Myeyesflutteredclosed,nipplespebblingundermythinblouseashislarge,warmlipscaressedtheskinstretchedovermythroat.Eachbrushofhislipswasmorefirmthanthelastashemadehiswaydown,andhenippedatmycollarbone,elicitingahissfrommeasItwistedmyhandsinhisshirt.
Ididn’thavetohavemyeyesopentoknowwewerebeingwatched.
IfeltthegazesofnotjustMaliyah,buteverypersonincloseproximityatthatpartyburningintomyskinjustasferventlyasClay’skissesashetrailedhiswaybacktomymouth.Hisnextkisswaslikeabrand,demandingandbrutal,andforthefirsttime,heslidhistongueagainsttheseamofmylips,requestingaccess.
AndIopened.
Ipartedmylipsandmethistonguewithmine,asharpzipofelectricitystunningmeatthecollision.Itwasasifhistonguestrokedmebetweenmythighsratherthaninmymouth,andIsqueezedmylegstightertogetheragainsttheforeignsensationevenasIleanedinformore.
Claymoaned,onehandtighteningwhereheheldmeagainsthimastheothersliddownfrommyface,overmyneck,andrightovertheswellofmyheavingchest
Thegaspthatslightbrushelicitedfrommewasgutturalandautomatic,soviolentthatmyeyesshotopen.ButClaykissedmeevenmoreferventlyashishandcontinuedtrailingdown,hispalmwarmandconfidentwhenitsettledovertheinsideofmythigh.
Itwaspossessive,thewayhecradledme,thewayhepulledmeintighter,kissedmeharder,hishandslowlypushingupunderthehemofmyskirt.
Igasped,headarchingbackasClaymovedeasilyfrommymouthtomyneckoncemore.
Andagain…Iopened.
Thesignaldidn’tcomefrommybrain,butfromalongingsopowerfulintheverycoreofwhoIwasthatitwasimpossibletofightagainst.Mylegsuncrossed,kneesspreadingjustenoughtolethimpushthathandupunderthefabricofmyskirtevenhigher.
Mynextbreathwasshakyandshallow,andClaypressedafeather-lightkisstotheskinjustbeneathmyear.
“Okay?”heasked,simpleandsoft.Thatonewordseemedtogroundme,tobringmebacktotheroom,toreality,tohim.
IthinkInodded.IthinkIgavesomesortofmurmurofaffirmationbeforehistonguelickedalongmyjawlineandbacktomymouth.Hepressedhisforeheadagainstmine,andwhenmylidsflickeredopen,Ifoundhisemeraldeyesblazingdownatme.
Timestutteredtoastop,thenoiseofthepartydyingonabreath.Suddenly,IwasacutelyawareofwhereClay’sbreathmetmymouth,wherehischestswelledandfellinrhythmwithmine,wherehishandcrawledachinglyslowlyup,up,up.
Theroughpadsofhisfingertipsslidtenderlyalongmyinnerthigh,theskinsobeyondsensitiveIcouldn’tdoanythingbutquakeandholdontohimfordearlife.Itwasunmarkedskin,nevertouchedbyanyonebutme.
Claydraggedhisteethoverhisbottomlip,plumpfromkissingmesenseless,andhiseyesheldmineashedaredtogoevenhigher.
Ispreadmylegswider,lettinghimin.
Untilherantheentirelengthofhisindexfingerrightalongthesoakedcottonofmythong.
Iwhimpered,agaspofamoanroaringoutofmeatthetouch,atthefeelingofhissure,steadypalmagainstthemostprivateandsensitivepartofme.Andwhenhefeltmydesire,hegroaned,hismouthcapturingminejustasheretractedhisfingeronlytoglideitalongthatsamelineoffirewithmorepressure.
Stars.
No,notstars,ablackhole,suffocatingandlife-ending,wasbornwherehetouchedme.Igasped,eyesflyingopen,heartseizinginpanicbeneathmytightribcage.
“Meow.”
Thewordwasabreathypleawhenitslippedunbiddenfrommylips,andClayfroze,hisheartbeatinghardenoughIcouldfeelitthroughhisshirtasIpressedmyhandintohischestandforcedspacebetweenus.
“Meow,”Irepeated,louder,firmer.
Recognitionhithisface,andClaypaled,peelinghimselfoffmewithconcernladeninhiseyes.“Giana,”hetried,butIcouldn’tlookathimanylonger.
Icouldn’tbenearhim,couldn’tcontainthefireroaringinsideme.
Ifakedasmile,brushedakissagainsthischeeklikeIwasfinejustincaseMaliyahoranyoneelsewaswatching.IstoodasslowlyandcoollyasIcould,fixingmyhairandrightingmyskirtbeforeIstrolledtowardthebathroom.
ButassoonasIwasoutofeyesight,Itookahardleft.
AndIran.Clay
MyheartwasathunderousmarchofstallionsinmyearsasIweavedthroughthecrowdedparty,eyestrainedonGiana’sback.Herbreathsweremorehaggardandunevenwitheverystep,andwhenshedisappearedaroundtheedgeofthekitchenonlytotakeoffinafullrunforthedoor,Iletoutacurse,pushingpastpeopletofollowher.
I’dgonetoofar.
Thatsafewordwasnevermeanttobeused,nevermeanttobeanythingmorethanajokebetweenus.ButI’dpushed,takingadvantageofhertrust,givingintomyownselfishdesireasplayingwithherinthatpartybecamelessaboutMaliyahandmoreaboutseeingwhatnoisesIcouldgettocomefromthatprettymouthofhers.
Ihadn’tmeantto.I’donlyintendedtokissher,topeekmyeyesopenatwhereIknewMaliyahwaswatchingfromthedancefloorandshowherjusthowmovedonIwas.ButthemoreGianaopenedforme,themoreshewrithedundermytouch…
ThelessIwaslookingatanythingoranyoneelsebuther.
Itwasdizzying,hertongueagainstmine,theslickdesirebetweenherlegsthatIknewwasfromme.Likeadrugaddict,Iwasgreedyformore.
AndIdidn’tthinkabouttheconsequences.
Gianaburstoutintothenightwithmehotonherheels,catchingthedoorbeforeshecouldevenslamitbehindher.
“Giana!”
Afewstudentswhoweregatheredonthelawnpartedasshesprintedthroughthem,theirquestioningeyesfindingmenextasIchasedafterher.
“G,please,wait,”Icalled,butshekeptrunning,aroundthefrontgateanddownthesidewalk.
Ifollowed,pickingupmypaceasmyhearthammeredlikeakickdruminmychest.WhenIwasafewstepsbehindher,Ireachedout,catchingherbytheelbowandslinginghertoastop.
Sheswungintome,alittlegaspofacryboundingoutofherasIcaughtherandheldhersteady.
“I’msorry,I—”
“No,I’msorry,”Isaid,holdingherslightarmsinmine.
Shewassippingshallowbreaths,eyesglossingoverassheavoidedmygaze.Itfuckingkilledmetoseeherlikethat.
ToknowIwasthereason.
“Hey,”Isaid,tiltingherchinwithmyknuckle.
Iwaiteduntilhereyesmetmine,andonetearslidsilentlydowntheedgeofhercheekbeforeshebatteditaway.
“I’msorry,”Irepeated,eyessearchinghers.“I’msorry.”
Herbreathingslowed,justabit,onelongexhalefindingherbeforeshecollapsedintome.Icaughtherinafiercehug,wrappingherupinmyarmslikeIcouldshieldherfromwhatwashurtingher.
Likeitwasn’tmewhowastheculprit.
Sheshookinmyarms,sniffingagainsttearsIknewshewasangryforshedding.Sheswipedthemawayasquicklyastheycouldcome,butdidn’tbreakfrommyembrace.Sheletmeholdher,letmesmoothmyhandalongherspineuntilshecalmed,untilherbreathsweremoreevenandherbodywasstill.
“God,I’mamess,”shesaidwhenshefinallypulledback,butshedidn’tputmuchspacebetweenus.Shejustdippedherfaceintoherhands,shakingherhead.
“Iwenttoofar.”
“No,”shetried,butthenshesighed,finallymeetingmygaze.“Yes.Butit’snotyourfault.”
“Itis.Igotcarriedaway.”
“Iwasplayingintoitjustasmuch.”
Ishookmyhead,readytoargue,butallwordsdiedinmythroatwhenGianabeatmetoit.
“I’mavirgin.”
Iblinked,shocked,unsureIheardhercorrectly.Butwhenshestaredupatmeunwavering,sorrowandshamecoloringhercheeks,IknewIhadn’tmisheard.
Somethingferalroaredinsideme,theteethofitbaredasIclenchedmyjawagainstitthreateningtobreakoutofitscage.Along,searinginhaleforceditbackdown.
“Iknow,”Gianasaid,foldingherarmsoverherchestasshecavedinonherself.“It’sembarrassing.”
Iimmediatelyreachedforher,liftingherchinuntilshewaslookingatmeagain.“Whywouldyousaythat?”Iasked,browsbendingtogetherasIsearchedhergaze.
“BecauseI’masophomoreincollegeandIhaven’thadsex,”sheansweredbluntly.
Ishookmyhead,lettingoutthebreathI’dinhaledbeforeIpulledherintomeforanotherhug.“It’snotsomethingtobeembarrassedabout.”
“Well,itfeelslikeit.”
“It’snot,”Ireiterated,andthenIpulledback,framingherarmsinmyhands.“Thankyou.Fortellingme.”
Shenodded,swallowingashereyesfelltothegroundbetweenus.
“I’msorryIdidn’trealize.”
Gianagroanedthen,herheadlullingbackassherolledhereyesuptothesky.“Idon’twantittobeabigdeal.”
“Well,itkindofis,”Isaidwithanamusedsmile.“EspeciallywhenI’mpawingyoulikeananimalinacrowdedparty.”
Alaughbubbledoutofher,andshepulledhergazebacktomine.“SometimesIjustwishIcouldjustdoitwithsomeoneandgetitoverwith,youknow?”
Thatferalmonsterinsidemebashedagainstitscage,andallIcoulddotostomachitwastuckherundermyarmandwalkherbacktowardcampus.
“TellmewhathappenedwithShawn,”Isaid,ignoringhercomment,thoughIknewitwouldbeburnedintomybrainfortherestofmyfuckinglife.
Gianaeyedmelikeshesawrightthroughmynot-so-subtledodgeofthesubject,butapparently,shewaseagertomoveon,too,becauseshesighed,leaningherheadagainstmychestaswewalked.
“Idon’tknowhow,orwhy,butIdideverythingyousaidandhe…”Sheshookherhead,laughingabitassheburiedherfacebeforepeekingupatme.“Ithinkifyouwouldn’thaveshowedup,hewouldhavekissedme.”
Ilaugheddespitethewaythosewordsmadeangerflareinmygut.ThatwasasideeffectIhadn’tbeenpreparedforwhenwe’denteredintothisfakerelationship,howkissingandtouchingGianawouldblurthatlineandmakemefeellikeshewasactuallymine.Ididn’thavearighttofeelanysortofpossessivenessoverher,soIshoveditdownandrememberedwhywedidthisinthefirstplace.
ForhertogetShawn.
FormetogetMaliyahback.
“Letmeguess—hesaidsomethingalongthelinesofyoudeservingbetterthanme?”
“Basically,”shesaid.“I’mjust…inawe.HewentfromnotevenknowingI’maliveto…Idon’tknow…wantingtosavemefromyou.”Shebarkedoutalaughattheaudacity.
I,ontheotherhand,swallowedagainstthevitalityofhisconcern.
“So,what’snext?”sheasked.
Whenshelookedupatme,thetearshaddriedonherface,andhersmilewasjustasbrightandgenuineastheoneshe’dgivenmewhenwewalkedintothepartyatthebeginningofthenight.Justlikethat,she’dbouncedback.AndeventhoughI’dcrossedtheline,shewatchedmewiththesameunwaveringtrustinhereyes,lookingtomeforguidancelikeIwasn’tthedevilhimself.
“Soeager,”Iteased,smilingasIpulledherundermyarmandrubbedmyknuckleagainstherskull.
Sheshovedmeoffwithalaugh,fixingherhairbeforelaunchingintootherthingsshe’dseenattheparty,includingacouplehippykidsmakingmushroomtea,andthegardeninthebackwhichIagreedwithherwascompletelybizarreanddidn’tfitthescene.
Ijustlistenedtoher,noddingalong,andkeptmyhandsinmypockets.
Mostlytokeepfromreachingforheragain.Giana
“Iwantyoualltobethinkingaboutyourcasestudy,”ProfessorSchneidersaidonWednesdaymorning,aclickofhermousepullinguptherequirementsonthescreenattheheadoftheclass.“Itfeelsliketheendofthesemesterisfarawaynow,butitwillsneakuponyou,andIwilltellyounowthatI’llknowifyouprocrastinated,andyourgradewillreflectit.”
Mytiredeyesbouncedoverthetextonthescreen,thoughIdidn’tregistermuch.SocialMediaasaMassCommunicationwasthefurthestthingfrommymind,especiallyafteralatenightworkingontheupcomingteamauction.
Charlottehadmecold-callingeveryoneinthecommunityshecouldthinkofwhomightbewillingtosponsororprovidedateitinerariesfortheauction.Andasifthatwasn’tdrainingenough,shethentoldmeIneededtoselectthecharityfortheproceedstobenefitandhaveitonherdeskbymorning.
Itcouldhavebeenaneasytask,ifIwaslazyanddidn’tcareabouteverytinyaspectofmyjob.IcouldhaveGoogledcharitiesinBostonandselectedthefirstonethatpoppedup.ButsinceIwasaddictedtoknowledgeanddetail,Inotonlysearchedcharitiesinthearea,butalsohowmuchoftheirfundingwenttowardtheirgoal,howmanyothernationalsponsorstheyhad,whattheiroutputofhelpinthelocalcommunitywas,andhowtheiridealsmatchedupwiththatofNBUandtheteam.
Ihadn’tlandedonadecisionuntilwellaftermidnight,andthoughIpassedoutassoonasIgothomefromthestadium,myalarmwentoffonlysixhourslater.
Earlyclasseswereabitch.
“Thequizonchaptersonethroughfiveisnowliveinyouronlineportal.You’llhaveuntilFridaytocompleteit.Seeyouallnextweek.”
Withthat,textbooksandlaptopssnappedclosed,theshufflingofbagsthefirstsoundthatfilledtheroombeforesofttalkingfollowedit.Ipackedupmyownthingsinsilence,glancingatmywatchthatreadtenAMandthinkingitwouldbeatwo-coffeekindofday.
Withmymessengerbagluggedoveroneshoulder,IdraggedmyselfoutoftheclassroomandtheCollegeofCommunicationsbuilding,thewarmmorningdefrostingmylimbsfrozenfromtheair-conditioning.Iwasonauto-pilotasIshuffledtowardRum&Roasters,pushingthroughthedoorjustasayawnstretchedmymouthopen.
Istoodinlinelikeazombie,orderingacaffèAmericanowithanextrashotofespresso.Ihadthelife-givercuppedbetweenmypalmsasIwalkedtowardmyusualtable.
Onlytofinditoccupied.
Shawnsatbentinmyusualchair,oneanklebalancedontheoppositeknee,guitarinhisarmsandbrowfurrowedashethumbedthestringsquietly.Hisdarkhairfellintohiseyesslightly,andthewaythemorninglightwasstreamingthroughthewindowswashedhimingold.Helookedlikethecoverofasoftrockalbum,andwhenheflickedhishairoutofthewayandlookeduptofindmestandinginfrontofhim,thesexiest,smoothestsmilespreadonhisdustypinklips.
“Well,goodmorning,Angel.”
Iflushed,glancingovermyshoulderasifIwonderedifitwasmehewastalkingto.WhenIlookedbackathim,hechuckled,settinghisguitartotheside.
“You’vegotahalorightnow,thewaythelightiscomingin,”heexplained.
Ismiled.“Hidingthehornsholdingitup,nodoubt.”
Shawngesturedtotheseatacrossfromhim.
Itookithesitantly—mostlybecauseIwasdebatingifIwastootiredtoevenholdaconversation,letaloneaflirtyonewithintention.ButonesipfrommyespressohadmeoptimisticthatIcouldturnitaround.
WhatwouldClaydo?
He’dtellmetosuckitupandplaythegame,that’swhat.
Ihadn’tseenShawnsincethepartyonSaturdaynight,andmystomachflippedthelongerhewatchedmewithacuriousgaze.
“What?”Iasked.
Heshookhishead.“Nothing.Youjust…forgivemeifthisistooforward,butyoulookbeautifulrightnow.”
MycheekswerehotenoughtorivalmycoffeeasIlookeddownatmyhands.“Ihighlydoubtthat,consideringhowtiredIamatthemoment.”
“Latenight?”
Isighed.“Very.I’mworkingwithmybossonanupcomingcharityeventforthefootballteam,andit’stakingmoretimeandenergythanallofmyclassescombined.”
“Istillcan’tgetoveryoubeinginpublicrelations,”heassessedwithasmile.
“Whatwouldyoupegmeas,ifIhadn’ttoldyouotherwise?”
“Librarian.”
Ilaughed.“It’stheglasses,huh?”
“Amongotherthings,”hesaid,andhismetalliceyessliddownthelengthofme,browarchingashetookintheeclecticblouseI’dpairedwithmyoldjeanoveralls.Theywerebaggyandhidmorethantheyrevealed,butthewayhiseyescareenedeachinch,itfeltmorelikeIwasinabraandpanties.
Iclearedmythroat,takingasipofmycoffee.“So,doyousleepinthebackofthestorehere,or…?”
Heranahandbackthroughhislonghair,crossinghisankleoverhiskneeagainbeforepullingtheguitarbackintohislap.“I’mworkingonasong,andIwasalittlestuntedinmydorm,soIthoughtachangeofscenerycouldhelp.”
“Hasit?”
“Sadly,no,”heconfessed.“There’ssomethingoff,butIcan’tfigureoutwhat.”
“Playitforme.”
Hiseyesshotopen.“Yeah?”
Ijustsmiled,sippingmycoffee,pretendinglikethiswastotallychillandcoolandlikeIwasn’tfreakingoutinternallythatShawnStetsonwasabouttoplayanunreleasedsongforme.
Hecrackedhisneck,sittingupalittlestraighterandclearinghisthroatbeforehebegan.
Theintrowassoftandslow,smoothchordspepperedbybrieftapsoftheheelofhispalmagainsttheboxofhisguitar.Itwaspercussionandstringsallinone,thebeatseductiveandalluring.
Inoddedmyheadintimewithit,hipsmovingsubtlyinmyseat.WhenShawnglancedupatme,hiseyesfrozeonthatlittlehipmovement,andmyneckheatedatthelingeringgaze.
Icouldn’twaittotellClay.
He’dbesoproudofme,howI’dwalkedrightuptoShawnatthetable,howcoolI’dplayedthewholething.Iwasbecominganatural—or,attheveryleast,Iwasleapsandboundsaheadofthegirlwhocouldn’tevenholdShawn’sgazeacrossacrowdedcoffeeshopjustafewweeksago.
IwasstillthinkingabouthowexcitedIwastotellClaywhenShawnstartedsinging,hisvoiceroughandedgy,smokylikeabrushfire.
“Ilike
themoon
whenitbleeds
throughthewindow
andpaintsyourflesh.
Ilike
yourlegs
whenthey’respread
andyou’reburning
forme,babe.”
Inearlychokedonmycoffee,butsomehowmanagedtocoveritupandholdmycomposureasasmirkcreepeduponShawn’sdevilishmouth.
“Ilike
themountains
ofyourbreasts
whenthey’reswelling
andpeaking
andachingformymouth.
I’llgive
youwhat
youwantifyou
justopenupandsay
thatmagicword.”
Therewasabreakinthechords,theheelofhispalmbeatingontheguitarintimewiththetapofhisfingersinafluidpercussionbeforehelaunchedintothechorus.
“Begforme,baby,
screamoutmyname.
Getonyourkneesforme,baby,
letdesire
eraseallthe
shame.”
Beforehecouldcontinue,Ihoppedoutofmyseat,tiltingthelastbitofmyespressodownmygulletasShawnabruptlystoppedplaying.
“OhGod,I’msosorry.Ijustrealizedthetime!”IhidmyflushedcheeksasIslippedthestrapofmybagoveroneshoulder.“Thesongisreallygreat.Truly.Verysexy.Can’twaittohearitlive.”
Shawnsethisguitartothesideandstood.“Giana,”hetried,butIwasalreadyrushingtowardthedoor.Itrippedonthelegofatable,windmillingforwardbeforeIbalancedanddidalittlespintokeepfromrunningintooneofthebaristascarryingatrayofdishes.
“Sosorry,I’mgoingtobelateifIdon’tgetgoing.ButI’llseeyousoon!”Ithrewbehindme.
“Wait!”
Istopped,heartthundering,turningwithaflushIknewwastoofurioustohidestainingmycheeks.
Shawnranahandoverhishair.“CanI…woulditbepossibleformetogetyournumber?”
Theblooddrainedfrommyhotface.
Itwasworking.EverythingClayandIweredoing…itwasworking.
Andforthefirsttime,Irealizedtheimplicationsofthat.
Swallowing,Iheldoutmyhand,typingmyphonenumberinquicklywhenShawnpressedhisphoneintomypalm.Igaveitbackjustasquickly,forcingthebestsmileIcould.
“I’lltextyou,”hepromised.
IthrewawaveovermyshoulderasIturned,tryingtokeepmysmilecalmandcollected.Butthewayhestoodwithhishandsinhispockets,onebrowarched,toldmehesawrightthroughtheact.
Italsotoldmehelikedthathe’druffledme.
WhenIpushedthroughthedoorsandoutintotheheatgrowingthickerbytheminute,Ismackedmypalmagainstmyforehead,draggingitdownmyfacewithagroan.
ImightaswellhavehadI’mavirgin!flashingonmyfaceinneonlights.
Embarrassmentfadedintoshame,andjustasquicklyintopanic,asIracedacrosscampus,mypacegrowingpracticallytoagallop.
WhatthehelldidIthinkIwasdoing?
HereIwasplayingthis…thisstupidgamewithsomeonesofaraheadofmeitwasunreal.Shawnwasamusician.Ahot,talented,malemusician.Howhaditnotoccurredtomethathe’dlikelyfuckedadozengirls,ifnotmore,bynow?
AndI?
Ihadn’tevengonetosecondbase.
IwasallbutsprintingwhenImadeittothestadium,theespressokickingthroughmypulselikeawardrum.Iflewthroughthemetaldoors,downthehallway,swingingintothecafeteriaonlytofindthattheteamwasn’tthereyet.Iglancedatmywatchagain,squintingasItriedtorememberClay’sschedule.
Weightroom.
Alittlehophadmeswitchingdirectionsandpowerwalkingintheoppositedirection.Ididn’tthinkaboutwhatIwouldsay,orabouttheconsequencesofwhatIwasabouttoaskasIrippedopentheweightroomdoorsandhurdledinside.
LoudrapmusicassaultedmeassoonasIdid,butitwasnomatchformyheartthunderinginmyearsasIscouredtheroomuntilIfoundClay.Hewasonhisback,abarsaddledwithheavyweightsacrosshischestasheheavedabreathandpushedituptowardwhereHoldenwasspottinghim.
Withonelastdeepbreath,Imadeabeelineforhim,ignoringtheplayerswhoarchedtheirbrowsatmeasIpassed.HoldenhelpedClayrackthebarjustasIapproached,andhe’dnosoonersatuponthebenchbeforeIwaswrappingmyhandaroundhiswristandtugginghimoffit.
“Ineedyou.”
Clay
Giana’sgripwasmightyfierceforhowsmallshewas,andsheallbutdraggedmethroughtheweightroomasmyteammateswatchedcuriously.Ifollowedherwithanamusedsmile,shruggingattheplayerswhotiltedtheirchinsatmeasiftoask,“Whatthehellisgoingon?”
CoachDawsonslammedahandhardintomychestbeforewehitthedoors.
“Trainingisn’tover,”hesaid—moretoGianathantome.
“Sorry,Coach.WeneedJohnsonforaquickpodcastinterview.He’llbebackinfifteenminutesorless,Ipromise.”
Sheheldhershouldersbackasshesaidit,thoughIdidn’tmissthethickswallowinherthroatasshestaredupathim.Hewasatleastafoot-and-a-halftallerthanher,andthreetimesaslarge.Hisbrowfurrowed,aheavysighleavinghischestbeforehetookhishandoffmine.
“Tenminutes,”heconceded.“You’llrunlapsforeveryminuteafter.”
Inodded,andthenGianawastuggingmeoutthedoor.
“So,whatpodcastisthisfor?”Iteased,knowingdamngoodandwellthishadnothingtodowithpublicrelations.
Gianaignoredmeuntilwewalkedpastatrainingsupplycloset,thedoorofwhichshewrenchedopenbeforeshovingmeinside.
Itwaspitchblackwhenthedoorshutbehindus,thesilencealmostdeafeningcomparedtotheraucousnoiseoftheweightroomdownthehall.Giana’sbreathingwasheavyinthatquiet,likeacagedanimal.
“Thelightshouldbe—”
Iwenttoreachforit,butGianasmackedmyarmdown,whichtoldmesheknewexactlywhereitwas,too.
“Leaveit,”shesaid.“Idon’tknowifI’llbeabletosaythisifyou’relookingatme.”
“Saywh—?”
“Iwantyoutofuckme.”
Thewordsrodeoutonabreathy,high-pitchedpleathatjarredmetothecore.Itwaslikeafisttothegutandamoutharoundmycockatthesametime,bothexcruciatinglypainfulanddelightfullyshocking.
Iignoredthebeastinsidemethatfiredupatthosewords,suffocatingthewildneedformetograntherwishrightnow,righthereinthisfuckingcloset.AslowinhaleandequallyslowexhalewereallIcouldmanagebeforeIspoke.
“Uh,Kitten,Idon’tthink—”
“No,Imeanit,”shesaid,cuttingmeoff.“Iwantyoutotakemyvirginity,Clay.”
IwasthankfulforthepitchblackofthatclosetasIbitmyknuckle,stiflingagroanathowsinfullysweetitwastohearthosewordsfromherlips.
“I’mgoingtoneedalittlecontexthere,”Ifinallycroaked,thatmonsterinsidemegettingharderandhardertocontain.
Therewasalongsigh,ashufflingoffeetfollowedbyasoftcursethattoldmesheprobablywalkedrightintosomething.“Shawnisexperienced,”shesaid.“He’sprobablyhadsexwithmoregirlsthanI’veevenmetinmylifetime.Imean,heevenwalkswithsexualswagger.Hepracticallydripssexappeal.”
Iwrinkledmynose,againthankfulforthedarkthatcoveredmynot-so-subtledisagreementwitheverywordshejustsaid.
“WhenIfinallygetmychancewithhim—ifIgetmychance—Idon’twanttobesobadinbedthathelaughsortakespityonmeor…or…walksoutcompletely.”
Thoselastwordswerealmostlikeashockedcryofrealizationthatthatwasapossibility.
“Hewon’twalk—”
“Youdon’tknowthat,”shesaid.“Youdon’tknowwhatit’sliketobeanalmosttwenty-year-oldvirginbecauseyouprobablylostyourvirginitywhenyouweresixteen.”
Mymouthshutthen,becauseshewasright.
“Please,Clay,”shesaid,andIfelthersmallhandsreachforme,wrappingaroundmyforearmandsqueezing.“Ineedyourhelp.Please.Please.”
Thisgirlisactuallybeggingmetotakehervirginityinadarksupplyclosetrightnow.
“Teachmehowtokiss,howtomakeamanfeelgood,”shewhispered.“Teachmehowtodoitall.”
Iletoutalowhumofagroanonmynextexhalebecausefuckme,itwasn’tokayhowmuchthatturnedmeon.
Myheartpickedupitspace,thunderinglikeadozenstallionsasImulledoverwhatshewasasking.Everywarningsignandbellandwhistlewasgoingofflikeachaoticsymphonyinsidemeforevenconsideringit.Fakekissingandheavypettingwasonething,buttostripherdown,totakeherforthefirsttime…
Thatwasanentirelynewballgame,oneIwasn’tsureeitherofuswasequippedtoplay.
“Clay,”shewhisperedwhenIdidn’tanswer,andherhandscrawledupmychest,fistinginmyshirt.“There’snooneelseItrust.Please.”
Iclosedmyeyesatthesoundofyetanotherplea,gutwrenchingandchestcavinginbecauseIalreadyknewbeforeIansweredthatIwouldn’tdenyher.
Icouldn’t—notwhenshewasaskingmeforhelp.
Swallowing,Ireachedbehindherandflickedonthelight.Webothblinkedatthebrightness,butthenherCaribbean-blueeyeslockedonmine,herbreathjustasshallowasitwaswhenshedraggedmeinhere.
Butshedidn’twaver.
Shedidn’tcowerorbackdown.Shedidn’tshyaway.Shedidn’ttakeitback.Shelookedmerightintheeyeandaskedagain,silently,formetobetheonetotakesomethingIknewwasmoreprecioustoawomanthanIwouldeverunderstandasaman.
Irolledmylipstogether.
Andthen,Inodded.
Herrelievedsighcamelikeherfirstbreathafterbeingunderwaterforyears.Shethrewherarmsaroundmyneck,andIclosedmyeyesasIcaughther,warningzippingdownmyspinelikeanelectricshock.
“Really?!”shesquealed,squeezingmetighter.“Thankyou,Clay.Thankyou,thankyou,thankyou.”
IjustburiedmyfaceinherneckwhereIheldher,hopinglikehellsheknewbetterthanIdidwhatwebothcouldhandle.Itwasmoredisbeliefthananythingelsethatwashedovermethelongerwestoodinthatembrace.
I’dagreed.
Iwasgoingtotakehervirginity.
Againsteveryobviousredflagtellingmethiswasabadidea,Icouldn’tsayno.
Somewheredeepinsideme,thatwildcreatureI’dtriedsohardtotamesmiledinvictory…
Andanticipation.Clay
OurfirstawaygamewasagainsttheSouthVermontUniversityVikings,andweclobberedthem.
Thefieldwasarainymessfromthetimewejoggedoutontoitforwarm-ups,ourcleatsanduniformsbothcoveredcompletelyinmudbytheendofthefirstquarter.Mykneesachedfromsprintingintheconditions,andmyleftanklefeltworsefromalltheslidingaroundthanwhenI’dbrokenitinthesixthgrade.
Still,theentiresquadhadbeenonfire,showcasingyetagainthatwewereateamtocontendwiththisseason.Afterourbowlwinlastyear,wehadalotofeyesonus—andnow,weweretwoandzero,andhadjustdefeatedateamwebarelyscrapedoutawinagainstlastyearbymorethantwentypoints.
“Um,excuseme,”Rileysaid,joggingupbesidemeafterapost-gameinterviewonthefield.Herhairwassoaked,drippingdownoverhershouldersandinhereyesasshehungherhandsonherhipsandglaredupatme.“Domythreesuccessfulfieldgoalsnotdeserveashoulderrideintothelockerroom?”
Igrinned,reachingforherslighthipsandeasilyhelpingherclimbup.Shesaddledmyshoulders,handsgrippingmineasIstoodbeforesheliftedthemintheairandstartedchantingoneofourteamcheers.Playerafterplayerfiledinaroundher,joiningin,andIranherthroughthecrowdforhigh-fivesonourwaytowardthetunnel.
ShelaughedandsquealedwitheveryslidingstepItookuntilIcarefullyplacedherbackonthegroundoncewewereinsidethestadium.AssoonasIdid,Zekesweptherupinahugfrombehind.
“Nicepickoutthere,Johnson,”hesaid,andIclappedhishandwhenhehelditupformine.
“Nexttimeit’llbeatouchdown.Markmywords,”Ipromised.
“Ihavenodoubts.”Hepaused,givingRileyalookthatapparentlytoldhertogetlost,becauseshemadesomeexcuseaboutneedingtotalktoCoachbeforeshedisappeareddownthehall.
Zeketurnedbacktome.
“So,”hesaid.“HowarethingsgoingwithGiana?”
Ismirked.“Nosymuch?”
“Likeyouweren’tthesamewithmeandRileylastyear,”heshotback,deadpan.
“Thatwasdifferent.GianaandIaregreat.Andnotdenyingourfeelingsforeachotherlikeyoutwowere.”
SomethinginmystomachrolledwhenIsaidthosewords,butIignoredit,throwingmyarmaroundZeke’sshoulders.
“Whyareyousoconcerned?”
Hesighed.“Idon’tknow,man.Gianaisanicegirl.I…don’ttakethisthewrongway…Iwantedtomakesureshewasn’tjustsomesortofrebound.”
Icrackedmyneck,removingmyarmfromaroundhimasHolden’swarningcamebacktomemory.“Whyiseveryoneassumingthat’swhatsheis?”
“BecauseyouweredevastatedoverMaliyahbreakingupwithyoulike,amonthago,andnowyou’remakingoutwithGianaeverychanceyouget.”
“She’shot.Andfuntomakeoutwith.Andmygirlfriend,”Isaid.“I’mconfusedastowhythisissuchanissueforeveryonetoaccept.”
“You’reright,”Zekesaid,holdinguphishandsinsurrender.“I’msorry,man.Ishouldn’thaveassumed.I’mgladtoseeyoudoingsowell,honestly.Iwasworriedthereatthestartoftheseason.”
“Youweren’ttheonlyone,”Iconfessed,andasweroundedthecornertowardthelockerroom,weweremetbyadozengigglingcheerleaders.
Maliyahincluded.
Shewassoakedheadtotoe,everyinchofheruniformstickingtoherleanbody.Waterwasstillglidingdownherarms,herabdomen,herlegs,moreandmoreofitbeingreleasedfromherhairandaddingtothestream.
Herlaughstutteredwhenshesawme,andhereyesflickedfrommetoZekeandbackagainwhileallthecheerleaderswatchedher.
Watchedus
“Hey,”shefinallysaid.
Iswallowed.“Hey.”
Oneofthecheerleadersloopedarmswithtwoothersandpulledthemforward,therestofthegirlsfollowingandleavingusalone.Zekegavemealook,atiltofhischinhisonlyfarewellbeforeheduckedinsidethelockerroom.
Thenitwasjustthetwoofus.
“Thatwasagreatgameoutthere,”Maliyahsaid,andsomethingofasmilebloomedonherlipswiththewords.“You’reevenfasterthanIremember.Theydon’tstandachanceofbeingopenwhenyou’reoutthere.”
Isniffed.“Thanks.”
Itwasn’twhatIexpected,standingtherewithher,finallyaloneforthefirsttimesinceschoolstarted.I’ddreamedabouthavingthismomentforsolong,whatIwouldsay,whatIwoulddo…butnoneofitfeltlikeIthoughtitwould.
Partofmelongedtoholdher,toreachoutandpullherintome,todemandanswersandaskwhyshewasdoingthis.
Buttherewasanotherpartofme,louderthanithadeverbeen,thatwasjust…annoyed
“Daddywaswatching,too,”shesaid.“Hewantedmetotellyouhowproudheisofyou.”
ThatburnedmemorethanIcaredtoadmit.
CorywastheclosestthingI’dhadtoafatherfiguresincemydadleft.They’dbeenclosefriendswhenIwasyounger,andIdidn’tknowifitwasbecauseofthatorbecauseofMaliyahthathe’dtakenparticularinterestinmylife.HehelpedmewhenschoolgottoughandMomdidn’tknowwhattodo,orwhenIneededtoshakeoffthementalpressureoffootball.Hewasalawyer,calculated—butsmartashell.
HispridewassomethingIwanted,evenwhenIhatedtoadmitit.
“Iappreciatethat,”Isaidwithalittlelessbite.
Maliyahfoldedherarmsoverherchest,eyesabitsadassheasked,“Howareyou?”
“HowdoyouthinkIam,Li?”
Mychestachedwiththenickname,andIwonderedifitdidthesameforherbecauseshelookeddownathershoes,rubbingherarmswithherhandslikeshewascold.
“Youseemtobedoingfine,”shesaidtothefloor,thendraggedhereyesbackuptomeetmine.“WithGiana.”
Firesparkedinmylungswiththementionofhername,bothbecauseofwhatI’dpromisedherI’ddo,andbecauseIknewjustbythatassessmentalonethatMaliyahhadnoticedus.
Andthatourlittlegamewasworking.
“AndyouwithKyle,”Ishotback.
“Kylemeansnothingtome.”
Shewaited,likesheexpectedmetosaythesameaboutGiana,butIknewMaliyahwellenoughtoknowthatifIgaveintooquickly,she’dloseinterestjustlikeshehadbefore.I’dlovedherforyears,andonethingIknewbetterthananyonewasthatshelovedachallenge.
Andshelovedtowinevenmore.
WhenIdidn’trespond,Maliyahsighed,lookingaroundtomakesurewewerealonebeforesheuncrossedherarmsandsteppedintome.Herwarmthinvadedmyspace,andshereachedout,justthetipofherfingertiptrailingmyforearm.
“Iseethewayyoustillwatchmewhenyou’rewithher,”shesaid,smilingasmyskinpebbledunderhertouch.“Whatexactlyisityou’redoing,Clay?”
Hereyesslowlysliduptomine,andshesmiledcoyly,leaningevenmoreintomeuntilherchestwasflushwithmine.
Andagain,Ifeltmyselfatwar.
Theurgetocrushhertomeandclaimhermouthwithmyownbattledwiththepowerfuldesiretogiveheratasteofherownmedicine.
Andsomethingelse…somethingforeignthatIcouldn’tquitename.
“I’mdoingexactlywhatyouwantedmeto,”Isaid,anglingmymouthforherear.
Shetiltedherneckback,handwrappingaroundmyarmandsqueezingtightasherlidsflutteredclose.
“I’mmovingon.”
Iwhisperedthewordsagainstherneckbeforeabruptlypullingbackandpeelingherhandoffme.Ipushedpastherandintothelockerroom,notbotheringtoturnandrevelinseeingherjawonthefloor.
Maliyahwasn’tusedtobeingdenied.
Ikickedthebottomofthelockerthey’dassignedmeinthevisitorspace,drawingafewlooksfrommyteammatesbeforeIforcedaraggedbreathandpeeledoffmyjersey.Padscamenext,andthenIhobbledtowardtheshowers,runningthewaterashotasIcouldandplantingmyhandsonthecooltilewallasitraineddownonme.
Itwasthefirsttimewe’dreallytalkedsinceeverythingwentdown,sinceshethrewmeoutlikeoldgarbageandwalkedawaylikeitdidn’thurtheratall.Evennow,Iknewshewasplayingthegame,droppingatemptingpieceofbaitrightinmyfacetoseeifI’dswipeupandtakeit,onlyforhertoreelmeinandtossmebackoutagain.
Itpissedmeoff.
Itbrokemyheart.
Butthatwasn’twhatworriedmemost.
WhatmademestayinthathotshoweruntilmyfingersprunedandmyskinwasbeetredwasthefactthatsomethinginthewayIfeltaboutherhadshifted,transformedintoanemotionIdidn’trecognize.
Andnow,Iwasn’tsurewhatthegameevenwasanymore.
OrwhatIwasplayingfor.
ThebusridebacktoBostonwaslongandrainy,justlikethegamehadbeen.
Thoughmostofmyteammateswererowdyandloud,celebratingourwinandmakingplanstocontinuethatcelebrationoncewemadeitbacktocampus,IsatquietlynearthefrontinaseatnexttoHolden,whoseemedcontenttolistentohisheadphonesandleavemealone.
Mymomhadtextedmeafterthegame,tellingmesheandBrandonhadgoneovertoMaliyah’sparents’housetowatchthegameonTV.Shetoldmehowproudshewasofme.ShetoldmehowproudCorywasofme.ShealsoaskedifIwascominghomeforThanksgiving.
Ican’twaitforyoutomeetBrandon!
Ididn’thavetheenergytoanswerher,nortoevenfinishreadingthelongtextmyfatherhadsentmenottoolongafterthat.Itwasn’tasurprisetoseehisnameonmymissedtexts.AbouttheonlytimeIeverheardfromhimwasongamedays,andusuallyitwasalistofthingsIcoulddobetter,followedbyquestionsonwhetherI’dfoundanagentormademyproplanyet.
IwasreadytothrowmyphoneintothenearestriveruntilGianatextedmerightaswepulledintotheparkinglot.
SorryIdidn’tgettoseeyouafterthegame.Fieldwasmadnesswithallthereporters.Areyoubackoncampusyet?
Ithumbedbackaresponseconfirmingwe’djustpulledin.
Comeover?
Myheartstoppedbeforekickingbacktolife,andItypedbackathumbsupemojibeforemysourattitudecouldtalkmeoutofit.I’dhadplanstomarchstraighttomydormandpassoutfacedowninmymattress,butthetruthwasIdidn’twanttobealone.
Notwithallthethoughtswhirlinginmymindlikeatornado.
Coachgaveaquickspeechinthelockerroombeforewewerealldismissed,toldtoenjoyourSundayandgetbackherereadytoworkMondaymorning.IflewoutoftherewithmyheadphonesonsonoonecouldaskmetogoouttothebarsorThePit.
ItwasalongwalktoGiana’sspotoffcampus.IusuallytookthetrainorcalledforanUber.Buttherainhadstopped,andIfoundmyselfthankfulforthecoolnightairasImademywayoffcampusandwoundthroughtheFortPointdistrict.Itwasbusy,localsandtouristsalikeflockingtorestaurantsandbarsnowthattheweatherhadclearedup
ItwasalmostninebythetimeImadeittoGiana’s,andshebuzzedmeup,waitingwithherdooropenwhenImadeittoherfloor.
“Okay,Ifiguredyouwerehungryafterthatmonstergame—thatpickwasinsane,bytheway!—butIdidn’tknowwhatyou’dbehungryfor,exactly,”shesaid,holdingthedoorwidersoIcouldslipinside.AssoonasIdid,aplethoraofaromasassaultedme.“So…Ikindoforderedalittleofeverything.”
Herhairwasbigandfrizzyfromtherain,piledintoasloppybunontopofherheadwithlittlecurlsburstingoutoftheholdandframingherface.Sheworeherblackglassestonight,theframeswide,andherfluffy,pinkhouseslippersslappedagainstthewoodfloorasshewalkedmetowardthekitchen.
Sheworeasimplewhite,spaghetti-straptanktop,anditwascroppedsothatherstomachshowedbetweenitandtheoversizedsweatpantshanginglowonherhips.Everythingaboutherscreamedcozy,alongwiththecandlesburningineverycornerofherplace.
Whenwemadeittothelittlekitchen,shebitherlipshyly,gesturingtothespreadoffoodthatwasentirelytoomuchfortwopeople.
“There’sdumplingsandrice,andpizza,andsomesliderburgersfromthebardownthestreet.Igotsomepretzelbiteswithbeercheesebecauseyum.”Sherolledhereyesuptotheceiling,pattingherstomachlikeastarvedmanbeforeshepoppedafingerup.“Oh!Andfries.Anddonuts.Andicecreaminthefreezer.Imightalsohavesome…chips…up…here,”sheadded,strugglingasshereachedupontohertiptoestoopenthesmallcabinetaboveherstove.
Sheindeeddidhavechips,twobagsofCheetos—bothpuffyandcrunchy—andsheaddedthemtothespreadbeforehangingherhandsonherhipsinsatisfiedvictory.
“Bónappétit,”shesaid.Whenshefinallylookedatme,herbrowsfoldedin.“OhGod,it’stoomuch,isn’tit?”
Itriedtosmile,shakingmyhead.“No,it’sgreat.”
Herfrownonlydeepened,andshesteppedcloser,searchingmyeyesasIswallowedandtoremygazeawayfromher.Istaredatthespacebetweenus,myhandstuckedfirmlyinthepocketsofmysweatpants.
“You’renotokay,”shewhispered.
Again,Itriedtosmile,butitwiltedlikeaflowerinthedesertsun.Iliftedmygaze,debatingovertryingtosayIwasfine.
Butintheend,Ijustshookmyhead.
Gianasighed,noddinglikesheunderstoodwithoutmesayingaword.“Okay,you,”shesaid,grabbingmyarmsandmarchingmetowardherbedroom.“Sit,”sheinstructed,pushingmeuntilIsatdownontheedgeofherbed.“Relax.I’llmakeusacoupleplates.Andyoupickoutthedocumentarywe’regoingtowatch.”
“Documentary?”Iaskedwithanarchedbrow,kickingoffmysneakersbeforeIsatbackagainstherheadboard.
“Yep.We’regoingtowatchastupiddocumentaryaboutsomethingweirdandstuffourfaces.”ShethumbedthroughtoNetflix,eyeslightingupabitwhensheclickedintothedocumentarysub-category.“Oh!Look.Oneoncheerleading.”
Shegavemealook,wagglingherbrows.
Iswipedtheremoteoutofherhand.“Givemethat.”
Withasmile,sheobliged,disappearingintothekitchen.Shecamebackmomentslaterwithtwoplatespiledhighwithasmorgasbordoffood,andthensheslidontothemattressnexttome.
“OurPlanet!Excellentchoice,myfriend,”shesaid,poppingaCheetoinhermouth.Then,shegrabbedtheremoteoutofmyhand,scrolledafewepisodes,hitplay,andflickedoffthelampnexttohersideofthebed.
Thedocumentarystarted,andshekepthereyesonthescreen,saveforwhenshereachedforsomethingonthetwoplatesbetweenus.
Shedidn’tbugmeaboutwhatwaswrong.Shedidn’tpry.
Shewasjust…there
“Isn’tthis…crazy?”sheaskedmearoundamouthfulofCheetoswhenwewerehalfwaythroughthesecondepisodewepicked.ItwasHighSeas,andglow-in-the-darkcreaturesthatlivedfarinthedepthsoftheoceanwereswimmingacrossthescreen.“Itlookslikeit’sCGI.Butit’snot.Thisisreal.”Shepaused,wavingherCheetoaboutlikeawand.“Imean…that’sreal.Thatweirdglow-in-the-darkfishthatlookslikeanalienlivesrighthereonthesameplanetasus.”
Shepoppedthechipinhermouth,shakingherhead.
“Iknowaliensarereal.Imean,itwouldberidiculousfortheretobesomanyuniversesandnotasingleotherplanethasintelligentlifeonit.Butwhetherwewillevercommunicatewiththem?Idon’tknow.Butthis?”Shegesturedtothescreen.“Wehavealiensrighthere.Wehaveawholeothergalaxywecan’tevenfullyexplorebecausewecan’tdivethatdeep.Howwildisthat?”
Ismirked,archingabrowatherasshecontinuedstaringatthescreenwide-eyedandchompingonthedustyorangechips.
Shewassostrange,andintelligent,andcurious,andfullofwonder.Shewaslikeachildandagrownasswomansomehowwrappedupinone.
Gianamusthavesensedmelookingather,becausesheglancedmywaybeforesuckingthecrumbsoffherfingertipsandasking,“Doyouwanttotalkaboutit?”
Icrackedmyneck,lookingbackatthescreen.“Notreally.”Ipaused.“But…thankyou.Forthis,”IaddedwithanodtowardtheTV.“Ithelped.”
Shesmiled,alittleshimmyofhershoulderstellingmeshewasproudofthat.“Good.”
Thelightfromthetelevisionbattledwiththeshadowsofherroom,castingherfigureinasoftbluelight.Ifollowedthelengthofitdowntohercleavage,thesliverofskinshowingabovehersweatpants,allthewaydowntoherfeetandbackupagain.Icouldn’texplainit,buttherewassomethingsocomfortableaboutherinthatmoment,somethingthatbeggedtobeheld.
Thatbeastinsidemereareditsuglyhead,rattlingagainstthecageanddemandingmyattention.AndIdidn’tknowifitwasforherorformyownselfishdesirethatIdidwhatIdidnext.
“So…”Iclearedmythroat.“Nowthatyou’vemademefeelbetter…”Iangledmyselftowardher,proppingmychinontheheelofmyhand.“Wannapractice?”
Gianafrowned.“Practice?”sheechoedaroundabiteofapretzeldippedinbeercheese.
Whenshelookedatme,Ijustcockedabrow,hopingthesalacioussmilespreadingonmylipswouldbeanswerenough.
Herlipsparted,eyespoppingopenwidebeforeshegulpeddownthebiteinhermouth.“Oh,myGod.Practice!Yes!”
Inafeatofagilityandspeed,shedroppedwhatwasleftofthepretzelinherhandandclearedtheplatesandsnacksfromthebedbetweenus.Shehastilyshuffledthemintothekitchenbeforeallbutskippingbacktothebedandjumpingintoit,landingonherkneesandclappinglikealittlekid.
“Okay.Whatdowedo?”
Ismirked,sittinguptojoinher,butassoonasIdid,shegaspedandleaptoutofthebed.
“Wait!”sheexclaimed,andthendisappearedintothebathroom.Iheardthefaucetrunningandaquicktwominuteslatershewasback.“Sorry.Cheetobreath,”sheexplained.
Ibarkedoutalaughatthat.“I’mnotworriedaboutyourbreath.Andbesides,I’vebeeneatingthesameshit.Doyouwantmetogobrushmyteeth?”
“No.Cheetobreathwouldn’tmakeyoudisgustingthewayitwouldonme.You’dsomehowfindawaytomakeitsexy.”
Ilickedmybottomlip,amused,andGianarolledhereyesbeforesmackingmychestplayfully.
“Comeon.Focus.Tellmewhattodo.”
Shecarefullyremovedherglassesnext,settingthemasidebeforeshewastunedbackintome.Andthewayshewasperchedthere,proppeduponherknees,herchestswellingandfalling,eyeseager…itwasthesweetest,mostintoxicatingsight.ShewatchedmelikeIhadalltheanswers,likeIwasherlifeline.
Likeshetrustedmewitheverythingthatshewas.
Swallowing,IignoredeveryvoiceinsidemethatwarnedagainstwhatIwasabouttodo,andImovedintoher,framingherbodywithmyfistsagainstthemattressassheleanedagainsttheheadboard.
“Liedown,”Icommanded.
Aflashofdesirepooledinhereyesassheobeyed.Giana
Iwasconsumed.
Bythedarknessofmyroom,theincessantpoundingofmyheart,thetoweringmassofClay’sbodyasheloweredmedownintomysheets.Hisroughvoicereverberatedinmyears,thecommandlowbutfirm.
“Liedown.”
Isubmitted,andasmybackcameflushagainstthemattress,Clayslidontopofme,nestlinghisthickframebetweenmythighs.Theheatofitsentachilldownmyarms,oneClaysmiledatbeforehesmoothedhisknucklesalongmychin.
“Relax,”hesaid.“We’renotgoingallthewaytonight.”
Ifrowned,saggingintothesheetsasClaychuckledandtiltedmychin.Iwasreadytoprotest,topointoutthefactthatShawnhadmyfreakingnumbernowandIcouldbealonewithhimatanymoment,completelyunprepared.ButbeforeIcouldargue,Clayspokeagain.
“Don’tlooksosad,Kitten,”heteased,pressingakisslightasairtomyjaw.“Therearemanythingsthatcomebeforethat,andtrustmewhenIsayyouwon’twanttoskipthem.”
Anembarrassedsmilefoundmylipsbeforehekissedthem,andIsuckedinabreath,loopingmyarmsaroundhisneckandaskingformore.Itfeltnaturalnowthatwe’ddoneitafewtimes,almost…comforting
Buthebrokeawayalltoosoon.
“Onestepatatime,yeah?”hewhispered,waitinguntilInoddedbeforehedescendedonmeoncemore.
Andwithastrokeofhishandalongthesideofmyface,hisfingersweavingintothehairatthenapeofmyneckandholdingmestillashekissedmeagain,Isurrendered.
Along,headybreathleftme,andIopenedmymouthtoletClayslidehistongueinside.Justlikeattheparty,ajoltofelectricityshotstraightbetweenmylegs,somethingpulsingtherelikeaheartbeat.
Iwhimperedatthefeelofit,andhepulledbackfromthekissenoughtohearthefullsoundfrommylips.
“Whydoesthatfeelsogood?”Ibreathed,myeyesstillclosedasClay’stonguelashedoutagainstmineagain.
“Doyouwantthescienceofit,orthelayman’sterms?”
Ibitmylipagainstasmileashekisseddownmyneck,andhishipsrolledbetweenmine,strikingmewiththathotsparkofelectricityagain.
“Both.”
Alowrumbleofalaughvibratedatmythroat.
“Whenwekiss,yourbrainletsoffacocktailofchemicals,”hewhispered,crawlinghiskissesbackupuntilheclaimedmymouth.“Butit’snotreallyaboutthem.It’saboutwhatthey’retellingyou.”
“Whichis?”
Henosedmychin,nippingatmyneck.“Youtellme.”
Iletoutabreathofalaugh,wrigglingbeneathhimashesuckedtheskinatmyneck,onehandsteadyinghimwhiletheothertraileddownthelengthofmyarm.Hisfingertipsweresogentle,fluid—likeiceskatersperforminginfrontofacrowd.TheyranallthewaydowntowhereIfistedhisshirtbeforetheyskatedbackup.
Andthenhepulledback.
“What?”Ibreathed,eyeshooded.
“Tellme,”hesaidagain.
Iflushed.“Ican’t…Idon’tknow…”
Clay’seyesstayedlockedonmine,handframingmyneckoncemore.Butthistime,histhumbcametorestonmylowerlip,justlikeithadthatnightattheclubwhenwewenttowatchShawn.Hiseyesfelltowherehisthumbrested,andhesmoothedthepadofitovermyslicklipbeforedraggingitdown,pullingmylipalongwithit.
“Tellmewhatyoufeel,”hedemandedagain.
“Excited,”Ibreathed,chestheavingattheadmission.“And…hot.”
“Hot,”heechoedwithasatisfiedgrin,andonceagainthathandofhistraileddown,butthistime,notovermyarm.Hesliditalongthelengthofmythroat,justthetiniestamountofpressuretherebeforehecontinuedlower,overmycollarbone,mychest,andfinally,palmedmybreastthroughthethintanktopIwore.
Thethintanktopwithnothingelseunderneathit.
Mynipplepuckeredevenmoreattheconnection,andClaygroanedhisapproval,thumbingitthroughthethincottonfabric.Apangofwhitehotshotfromthatpointofcontactrightbetweenmylegs,andIcriedout,archingintothetouchandpullingawayfromitbothatonce.
“Thatwarmthisdesire,”heexplained,rollinghisthumbaroundmynippleagain.“You’returnedon.”
“Yes,”Ibreathed.Then,Irolledmylipstogether,fightingforthewords.“HowdoImakeyoufeelthat?”
Claylaughed,thesoundlowanddeliciousinmyear.Hispalmleftmybreast,coldairsweepingintotakeitsplaceashereacheddownformyhand.Threadinghisfingersaroundmine,heslowlyslidmyhandalonghisstomach,andIfelteveryridgeandvalleyofhisabdomenonthewaydown.
Untilhecuppedmyhandinhis,guidingmypalmdowntowherehisthick,soliderectionstrainedagainsthissweatpants.
“Fuck,”IwhisperedwhenIfeltit,whenClaygroanedandflexedintomytouch.Icouldn’thelpbutwraparounditasbestIcouldwiththesweatpantsintheway,andClaydroppedhisforeheadtomine,swallowing.
“There’syouranswer,Kitten,”hehusked.
Hewasturnedon.Hisskinwasblisteringhotjustlikemine.
Becauseofme.
Thepowerofthattruthsurgedthroughmelikeatidalwave,andItiltedmylipsuptomeethis,tomoanintohismouthasIrubbedmypalmalonghislength.Ittwitchedatthecontact,andmymouthwatered,likeIwantedtotasteit,likeIwantedtoknowwhatitfeltlikegoingdownmythroat.
Iblamethedirtybooks.
Withagroan,Clayloweredhimself,takinghismouthfrommineandhiscockoutofreachwithonemovement.
Ipouted,butheonlysmiled,shakinghisheadlikeIwasgoingtobethedeathofhim.“Ineedtofocus,”heexplained.
“Onwha—”
ButIdidn’thavetimetofinish,becauseinthenextbreath,Clayranhishandunderthehemofmytanktop,pushingitupandovertheswellsofmybreasts.Itwasbruteforce,thefabricshoveduparoundmyneckandmybreastsexposedwithoutwarning.Thecoolairhadmynipplespeaked,alongwiththewayClay’seyesswamoverthem,takingineveryinchofthembeforehispalmfoundmeagain.
Abreathyhissleftmeatthetouch,athowtightlymythighmusclesclenchedwhenhishandtouchedmethere.IpushedupintothepillowssoIcouldwatch,soIcouldseehisthumbswipingoverthetopofmylightmauvebud.
“It’slike…sparks,”Itriedtoexplainthroughmypanting,andClaysmirked,circlingmynipplewithhisthumbasIwhimperedandwrithed.
“Somegirlslikeit,somegirlsdon’t,”hesaid.“Howdoesitfeel?”
“Hot.”
Hechuckled.“Goodhot,orbadhot?”
Iconsideredthequestion,notreallysure.Itwasalittleofboth,liketouchingmytonguetoanacidicbatteryoracopperpenny.Itshockedme,andfeltuncomfortable,butatthesametime,Ilikedit.
Atleast,Ithought.
WhenIdidn’tanswer,Claysettledlowerbetweenmylegs,hischestpressedagainstmyachingcorenowashebalancedonhiselbows.
“Closeyoureyes,”hesaid.
Idid,releasingalongbreath.
Andthen,hismouthwasonme.
Igasped,thesensationrockingthroughmeviolentlyashistongueswirledovermynipple.
“Clay,”Ibreathed,andwithoutmeaningto,myhandsshotforhishair,andIheldonlikethosestrandswerereins.
“Goodorbad?”heaskedagain.
“Good,”Ibreathedout,wettingmylips.“Verygood.”
Hesmiledagainstmybreast,andthenhistonguewasdancing,circlingandflickingaslittleshotsofelectricitybolteddownbetweenmylegs.Then,hesuckedmynipplebetweenhisteeth,nippingsogentlyIbarelyregistereditbeforehereleasedme.
“Isthatokay?”
“God,yes,”Ibreathed,handsfistinginhishair,andhekissedalineofsweet,tenderkissesacrossthemiddleofmychestuntilhetookmyothernipplebetweenhisteeth,spreadingthelove.
Itfeltlikehoursofthattorture,hislipsmovingfromonetotheother,tonguenevertiring,andwhenhefinallycrawledbackuptotakemymouthwiththosebeautifullipsagain,Iheldhimtome,archingintohim,wantingtopraisehimlikeasaint.
“Thatwasamazing,”Ibreathed.“NowwhatthehelldoIdotoyou?”
Claybarkedoutalaugh,butitfadedquickly,hisAdam’sapplebobbinginhisthroatasherolledoverontohisback.Hekepthiseyesonme,butIcouldn’thelpbutwatchhishandswheretheylowered,thumbsslidingunderthebandofhissweatpants.Hepushedintohisheels,liftedhiships,andtuggedthemdownbelowhiskneesbeforekickingthemtherestofthewayoff.
Myeyesgrewwide,andClaypausedwithhisthumbsinthebandofhisbriefsnext.
“Youokay?”
“Takeyourbriefsoff,Clay,”Isaid,practicallypantingasIwaitedforhimtofreethebeaststrainingagainsttheblackfabric.
Alightchucklelefthim,andthenhedidasIasked,andwhenhiserectionsprangfree,Iactuallysalivated.
I’dneverseenoneinreallife,neverknownanythingotherthanwhatI’dglimpsedonraunchytelevisionshowsortheoccasionalpornIindulgedin.ButI’dreadaboutthem.I’dfeltmybodyheatingastheauthorsdescribedtheswollentip,theveinyshaft,thethickbasewithtuftsofhair.
Noneofitcompared.
Ireachedforhimautomatically,buthishandsnappedout,capturingmywristandhaltingme.
“Touchyourselffirst.”
Ibalked.“Wh-what?”
Claymovedmyhandtomystomach,pushingitdownunderthehemofmysweatpantsasmyeyesflutteredatthesensation.Hewasn’teventouchingmeyet.Itwasmyowndamnhand.
Buthiswasontopofit.
Helineduphisfingerswithmine,thepadofhispushingintomynail,andheranmyhandalongthelengthofmyvagina,slippingonefingerbetweenthefolds.
“Areyouwet?”heasked.
Inodded,unabletoformwords.
“Coatyourselfinit,”heinstructed.“Slickyourhandwithyourwetness,andthenletmefeelit.”
Mynextswallowwasrough,likeI’dtakentoobigofabite—andmaybeIhad.MaybeI’dbittenoffentirelymorethanIcouldchew,butGoddiditfeelgoodtohavehiseyesonme,hishands,hismouth.
I’ddebatetheconsequenceslater.
Ididashesaid,andmybodyheatedmoreandmoreeachtimemypalmslickedovermyclit.Clayhelpedmyhandglidebackandforth,drenchingmyfingersandpalm,andthenheremovedourhandsfrombeneathmypantsandmovedthemovertohim.
Ileaneduponmyelbow,watchingashewrappedmyhandaroundhisbase.
ThesecondItouchedhim,hegroaned,squeezinghiseyesshutandfallingbackintothepillows.
Irippedmyhandaway.“Oh,God.DidIhurtyou?DidIfuckup?”
“No,”hepanted,grabbingmyhandandmovingitback.“Itfeelsgood,”hebreathed,andthenasoftcurselefthislipsashehelpedmeslidemyfistoverhisshaft.“Sofuckinggood.”
Ilitupunderthepraise,mirroringwhathe’ddone.Iranmyslickpalmuptohismushroomtip,applyinglightpressureasIslickeditallthewaydowntohisbaseagain.Anothermoanofsatisfactionrewardedme,andheflexedhishipsintomytouch.
“More.”
Isqueezedtighteronthenextrolldown,andhecursed,noddingandflexingintomyhandagain.HewassothickIcouldbarelygetmyhandallthewayaroundhim,andthethoughtoftakinghiminsidemebothexcitedandterrifiedme.
“Thetipisreallysensitive,”hetriedtoexplainthroughhispanting,hischestheavingwitheverynewrollofmyhandoverhim.“Youwanttotouchit,yes,butnottoomuch,nottooaggressively.”
Inodded,takingmentalnotesasIslickedhisheadbeforemovingtohisshaft.
“Justlikeeverygirlisdifferent,everyguyis,too.Somewantitslow,somefast,somelikelightpressure,otherslikeharder.”
“Whataboutthese?”Iasked,dippingmyhandsdownbeneathhisshaftwithoutwarning.
HejumpedasIcuppedhisballs,cursingashiseyesflewopenandherolled,pinningmeintothesheets.
“Oh,God.Bad?”Iasked,panicked.Hadn’tthebookssaidthoseweregood?
Clayheavedalaugh,shakinghisheadbeforehedroppedhisforeheadtomine.“Good,”hebreathed.“Atleast,forme.”
“Thenwhydidyoustopme?”
“BecauseIdon’twanttocomebeforethelessonisover.”
Ibitmylip,andClaykissedmyshysmilebeforerollingovertotherightofme.Hebalancedhimselfononeelbow,thefreehandtrailingdownanddrawingalinefromoneofmyhipstotheother.
Ishiveredunderthetouch,eyesfloatinguptomeethis.
Heswallowed,dippingjustthetipofhisfingersbeneaththebandofmysweats.“CanItouchyou,Giana?”hewhispered.
I’dneverknownsuchsimplewordscouldunravelme.
Inodded,andjustlikehehad,Iliftedmyhips,usingthearmnottrappedbeneathhimtohelphimpushmysweatsdown.Iwasn’twearinganythingunderneaththem,andClay’snoseflaredatthesightofmebarebeforehim.
“Ididn’t…Iwasn’tsureifIwassupposedtolike…shaveorsomething.Ofcourse,Ididn’tthinkwe’dbe…Iusuallyjusthavethislittlestrip,”Iexplained,cheeksfloodingwithheatthelongerClaystaredbetweenmylegs.Ibentmykneestogether.“Icanjumpintheshowerrealquickand—”
“Stop,”hetoldme,catchingmykneesbeforetheycouldmeetinthemiddle.HelightlypressedagainsttheinsideofmyleftoneuntilIopenedagain,andhishandslowlytraileddownmyinnerthightowardtheapex.
Heswallowed,pullinghisgazeuptomeetmine.
“You’reperfect,”hebreathed.
Iwasn’tallowedtheopportunitytorefutethatclaim,notbeforehisattentionwasbackbetweenmylegs,andhishandslidfartherup.
Hecuppedme.
Gentleatfirst,andthenfirmer,thewholeheatofhispalmcoveringmeasIgaspedforair.
“God,youarewet,”hehusked,glidinghisfingersbetweenmylipsasIrolledmyhipsinvoluntarily.“Thisissofuckinghot,Kitten.”
AllIcoulddowasholdontohim,onehandfistinginthebackofhisshirtwhiletheothertwistedinthesheets.
“Hasanyonedonethistoyou?”heasked,theheelofhispalmrubbingagainstmelightlyasheslippedhismiddlefingeralittledeeperbetweenmyfolds.
“Justme,”Ibreathed.
Claypaused,hiseyesfindingmine.“Areyousure—”
“Doit,”Ibegged,rollingmyhipsagain.“Please,Clay.”Icoveredhishandwithminejustlikehe’ddonewithmebefore,pressinghisfingerdeeperuntilthetipofittouchedmyentrance.
Webothhissedabreaththen,andIpulledmyhandback,searchinghiseyesashehoveredoverthatspot.
Hisgreenirisesflared,pupilsdilatingabitastheyflickedbetweenmine.“Pleasetellmeifithurts.”
Inodded,andClaytookalong,deepbreath,hiseyesstayinglockedonmine.
Andhepushed.
Thetipofhimslippedinsideme,makingmylipspartandmybreathcatch.Hewithdrewitagain,onlytoslideitindeeper,uptohisfirstknucklethistime.
Slowly,againandagain,hewithdrewandpusheduntilIstretchedbitbybitforhimandlethiminside.Whenhefinallypressedallthewayin,pushingthatthickmiddlefingerinsidemeandcurlingintoaspotthatmademeseestars,Icriedouthisname.
Itdidhurt.Butthenagain,itdidn’t.Itwaslikepickingatascab,painfulbutsatisfying,andIonlywantedmore.
Myhandsfoundhishair,guidinghismouthdowntomine.Ineededtokisshim.Ineededtofeelhimencompassingeveryinchofme.
Heobliged.
Thattorturoustongueofhisslippedinsidemymouth,alongswipeofittimedjustrightwithhisfingerglidinginsidemeandcurlingagain.Thistime,heleftitthere,deepinsideme,andwiggledit.
“Oh,God,”Ibreathedintohismouth.“I…whatis…”
Mynextgaspforairstolethewords,andClayheldmetightertohimashewithdrewandslippedinsidemeagain.Thistimeitfeltlike…more.Full.Iwasfull,andstretched,thatbitofpainbattlingwiththepleasureuntilpleasurewonoutandconsumedmyentirebeing.
Irockedagainsthistouch,evenmoresowhentheheelofhishandpressedagainstmyclitandrubbeditintimewithhisfingersworkinginsideme.Thatheatthathadbeenbuildingsearedwhitehotanddangerous,likealiteralfirewasbuildingfromthedepthsofmycore.
“Clay,”Iwarned,scaredofit,ofhowitbuiltandbuiltandfloodedmeand…something…somethingwashappening.
“Letgo,”hesaid,capturinghismouthwithmine.Hisfingersworkedinsideme,pushingandcurling,hispalmslickingagainstmysensitivepeak.
Ishookmyhead,terrified,butthatfearwassnuffedoutinthenextmomentbyrollingwavesofdelectation.Iwhimperedintohismouth,andthoselittlecriesturnedintomoansthatgrewlouderandlouderasIshookandwrithedandclungtohim.ItwasasifeverysenseIhadwaszeroedinonwherehetouchedme,andtheyallrejoicedatonce.Ifeltandtastedandsmelledeverythingandnothingallatonce.Ablackholeofpleasure—that’swhatitwas.
Itwasviolentandall-consumingforwhatfeltliketheshortestminuteofmylife,andthenitslowlyfaded,evenasItriedtograppleandholdontoit.
“No,”Iwhimperedasthelastofitfaded,andClaylaughedagainstmymouth,kissingmeashisfingersstilledwithinme.
“Don’tworry,Kitten,”hewhispered.“Thereareplentymoreorgasmswherethatcamefrom.”
Igasped.“Isthatwhatthatwas?”
“Wait,”Claysaid,pullingbacksohecouldseemyeyes.“Wasthatthefirsttime?”
Iflushed.“Imean…I’ve…youknowI’vedonethatafewtimestomyselfbut…never…neverthat.”
Clay’sbrowsbenttogether,andheshookhishead.“Jesus,Giana…Ididn’tknow.I…”Heswallowed.“Thankyou.Fortrustingme.”
Ismiled.“Thankyouforthelesson.”
Ileanedupontomyelbowsashecarefullyremovedhisfingersfrominsideme,andIshudderedattheloss.
“Although,”Isaid.“It’snotoveryet.”
Ireachedforhim,paused,andthenreachedbetweenmyownlegs,instead,rememberinghowhe’dwantedmyhandtobewetbeforeItouchedhim.IgaspedwhenIfeltjusthowwetIwas,evenmoreexcitedtocoathimwithitandbringhimthesamepleasure
Butitwasalmosttoowet.
Ifrowned,bringingmyfingertipsupsothelightofthetelevisionreflectedonthem.
Andthenpromptlyshriekedinhorror.
“Oh,GOD!”Ibalked,panickingwhenIrealizedthesamecrimsonliquidthatcoveredmyfingersalsocoveredClay’s.
“Hey,it’sokay,”hesaid,holdingupthatbloodyhandasiftosootheme.“Ithappens.It’snatural.”
“Ibledonyou,”Iwhisper-shrieked.Immediately,Ijumpedoutofbedandrantothebathroom.“OhmyGod.”
Frantically,Iturnedonthefaucetanddousedmyhand,scrubbingitwithsoapandhotwateruntilthebloodwasgone.Igrabbedawashclothnext,soakingitandturningtorunitintotheroomforClay,butIslammedintohischestintheprocess.
Hishandsframedmyarms.“Whoa.”
“Here,”Isaid,shovingthewarmragathimasIsqueezedmyeyesshut.“I’msosorry.I’msosorry.”
“Hey—”
“I’msoembarrassed.Youmustbesogrossedout.Oh,God.”
“Kitten,”Claysaid,firmer,hiscleanhandtappingundermychin.HewaiteduntilIopenedmyeyes,untilhewaslookingdownintothemwithhispiercinggreenpools.“It’sjustalittleblood.It’snotgross.It’snatural.Itdoesn’tfreakmeout.Ifeelfuckinghonoredthatyouletmebetheonetotouchyoulikethatforthefirsttime.Okay?”
Iclosedmylips,swallowing,frowning,freakingthefuckout.
“Okay?”heaskedagain.
Inodded,thoughIdidn’tquitefeelit.ButitwasenoughforClaytoreleaseme,totakethewetclothfrommyhands.HeslippedbehindmeandquicklywashedhishandswhileIstoodtherestaringlikeanidiot.
Then,heslowlyapproachedme,likeIwasawildanimalreadytobolt.Hishandsfoundmywaist.
Mystillbarewaist.
Heslidhishandsupmyribcagenext,catchingmytanktop,andIliftedmyarmsforhimtoslipitovermyhead.
“Showerwithme,”hesaid.
Itwasn’taquestionorarequest,butacommand.
Iturnedonthewater,waitinguntilitranhotbeforeIpulledtheplugtoturnthewatertotheshowerhead.Grabbingtwotowels,Iplacedthemonthelidofthetoiletbeforesteppingin,andClayslippedinbehindme.
Thewaterranhotdownmybackashepulledmeintohim,thefrontofhimlinedupagainstthebackofme,andIcouldfeelhowhardhestillwas,theridgeofhisshaftpressingagainstmyass.
“Clay,”Ibreathed,reachingbehindme,buthestoppedmebeforeIcouldreachhim.
“Nottonight,”hesaid.
“ButIneedtolearn.”Itwistedinhisarms,andwasn’tpreparedforthesightthatmetme.Thesoftlightofthebathroom,theshadefromtheshowercurtain,thewaterrunninginrivuletsdownhisarms,hischest,hisabdomen…
“IpromisedI’dteachyou,didn’tI?”Hearchedabrow.
Isighed.“Yes.”
“Then,Iwill.Butnottonight.Tonight,”hesaid,pullingmeintohimandboppingmynosewithhisfingertip.“Wecelebrateyourfirstorgasm.”
Irolledmylips,butthelaughbubbledoutofmebeforeIcouldstopit.Iburiedmyfaceinhischest,peekingupathimthroughthesteamgatheringaroundus.
“Ithinkorgasmsmightbemynewfavoritething.”
“Betterthanthebooks?”heaskedwithasmirk.
Ipressedupontomytoes.“Somuchbetter,”Ianswered,andthen,eventhoughthelessonwasover,Iwrappedmyarmsaroundhisneckandpulledhismouthtomine.Slidingmytongueagainsthislipsuntilheopened,Imethistonguewithmyown,moaningathowitfelt—thehotwaterandhishotkiss.
Recognitionhitme,andmyeyesshotopenwidebeforeIrippedback.
“Ah…sorry,”Isaid,tuckingmyhairbehindoneear.“Gettinggreedy.”
Thejokefellflat,andIcringedatmyselfasIturnedtowardtheshowerhead,reachingtotheshelfbehinditformybodywash.
“I’llletyougetcleanedup,”hesaid,andIfeltthecoolairofthebathroomsweepinashelethimselfout.
Iinternallygroaned.I’dquiteliterallyscaredhimoutoftheshowerwiththatkiss,onethatdidn’tneedtohappen.Noonewasaroundtowitnessit.Itwasn’tashowforanyone.Andweweredonewithtonight’s…lesson
I’ddoneitjustbecauseIwantedto.
Embarrassmentlickedatmyneck,butpanicroseonitsheelsatthethoughtofClayleavingwhileIwasintheshower.Ididn’tknowwhy,butIdidn’twanthimtogo.Notyet.
“Clay!”
Igrabbedthecurtainandfisteditbackjustintimetoseehimwrappinghislowerhalfinatowel.Heturned,runningahandthroughhisdamphair,thevisionlikeabookcoverandaRalphLaurenadallatonce.
“Yeah?”
Iswallowed.“Stay?”
Asoftsmilespreadonhislipsasheexhaled.“Yeah.”
Ismiledback,hopinghesawthereliefthatbroughtmebeforeIclosedthecurtainagain.Islatheredmyselfwithbodywash,carefulasIcleansedbetweenmylegs,andcringingabitattheredthatrinseddownthedrainwhenIdid.
ButonceIwasclean,thehotwaterrunningdownmyback,mybodycompletelysatedandsore…Icoveredmymouthwithmyhand,shakingmyheadasanothersmilebloomedlikearoseonmyswollenlips.
Ihadmyfirstorgasm.
AndallIcouldthinkwasthatIcouldn’twaitforthenextone.Giana
Thenextmorning,IhummedquietlytomyselfasIpeeleduptheedgesofanomeletwithmyspatula,thefirstbitofthemorningsunstreamingthroughmyapartment.
Claywasstillasleep,hisbodycomicallytoolargeformybed.Isnuckanotherlookovermyshoulderathishair-dustedcalfstickingoutfromunderthecoversandovertheendofthemattress,onearmunderhispillow,andbarebackgoldeninthemorninglight.Hewasfrowningeveninhissleep,likehewasstudyinggamefilm.
IsmiledtomyselfasIturnedbacktothestove,foldingtheomeletintheskillet.
He’dstayedthenight.
Wewerebothexhaustedaftertherainygameandourlesson,sonottoolongafterourshower,wepassedout.ItwasmorecomfortingthanIexpected,havinghimtherebesidemeaswebothtriedtostayawakethroughanotherepisodeofthedocumentary,butfailedmiserably.Iwatchedhimdozebeforegivingmyselfpermissiontodothesame.
Iwashappyhestayed.
Iwasn’tstupid.IknewbetterthantocatchanysortoffeelingswithClay,evenafterallthosechemicalswereflowingandtellingmeIshouldclingtothepersonwhojustmademefeelthatamazing.Wehadadeal.I’dliterallybeggedhimtodothesethingstome,totakemyvirginityandshowmewhattodosowhenitcametimewithShawn,sothatIwasn’tsounpreparedIlosthimbeforeIevenhadmychance.
Still,thatsoftsideofmerelishedinhavingClaybetheonetodoit,inhavinghimstaythenightafter,likeheactuallycaredaboutme.
Itwasbetterthanwhatmostofmyfriendsexperiencedinhighschoolwiththeirfirsttimes,thatIwassureof.
Aloudbuzzingonmywindowsillinthebedroomsoundedoverthesizzleoftheomelet,andClaygroaned,hisgargantuanarmreachingoutblindlyuntilheswipedhisphoneofftheledge.Heglancedatthescreen,thenpeeledhimselfuptosit,frowningatit.
Helookedupatmenext,butIturnedbackbeforehiseyesmetmine,tryingtogivehimprivacy.
IwonderedifitwasMaliyah.
IalsowonderedwhymystomachdidaviolenthighdivetothefloorwhenIconsideredifitwas.
“Hey,Dad,”heansweredgruffly,andIpeekedovermyshoulderagainjustintimetowatchhimtugonthelastofhisshirt.Hegavemeatightsmile,disappearingintothebathroom.
Somethinginmerelaxedabit,andIplatedthefirstomeletbeforestartingonthenext.
Theconversationwasabitmutedwhenhewasinthebathroom,especiallywhenheranthefaucet,too.Heclearlydidn’twantmehearinghim,soIdidmybesttoignoreit,tofocusoncookingandnotonthelittleglimpsesIcouldmakeout.
Yeah,Imissthem,too.
Youknow,youcouldallcomehereforagame.
Right.Busy.Iunderstand.
Thefaucetandlightbothclickedoffatoncebeforeheemergedwithaheavysigh,scrubbingahandoverhisfaceasheroundedthecornerintothekitchen.Hissweatpantshunglowonhiships,hist-shirtwrinkledfrombeingthrowntothefloormid-sleep.
“Mornin’,”hesaid.
“Goodmorning,”Iechoedback.“Here.Breakfast,”Isaid,slidingthestill-steamingomeletontothekitchenbar.“Coffee’soverthere.”
Heyawned,brushingpastmeandreachingupforacoffeecupinthecabinetabovethemaker.Itwaslikehelivedhere,likehealreadyknewwhereeverythingwas.
“Doyoualwaysmakesuchalavishbreakfastfeast?”
Ibarkedoutalaugh.“Afeast?It’sanomelet.”
“BetterthanwhatIcandoinmydorm,Iassureyou.”
Ismiled,shruggingasIfinishedcookingmyomeletandplatedit.“Idon’talwayscook,butIenjoyitsometimes.MydadusedtomakeomeletseverySunday.Iguessthetraditioncarriedover.”
Clay’sbrowsfoldeddown,thoughhestillworesomewhatofasmile.“That’scool.Youtwoclose?”
“I’mnotreallyclosewithanyoneinmyfamily,”Iadmitted,sittingatthekitchenbar.Clayjoinedme,sittinginfrontofhisomeletasIaddedpeppertomine.“Butoutofallofthem,I’dsayI’mclosestwithmydad.He’stheonlyonewhoreallyunderstandsme.”
“Howso?”
Iconsideredthequestion.“Hedoesn’tpushmetobesomethingI’mnot.HelovesmejusthowIam,justhowIwanttobe.”
Claynodded.“Sowhatdoyoumeanby‘outofallofthem’?”
“MomandDad,andthenallfourofmysiblings.”
Hiseyesbulged.“Four?”
“Yep.”Thewordpoppedoffmylips.“Twooldersistersandtwoyoungerbrothers,withmerightsmackdabinthemiddle.Itdoesn’thelpthatallofthemaregeniusesandtalentedinsomesuperspecificarea.Oneday,we’llhave…”Iheldupmyfingerstocountthemalloff.“Aprofessionalathlete,abioengineer,andtwoentrepreneurssellingtheirfirstbusinessformillionsofdollars.”Iletmyfingersdrop,reachingformyforkandshovelingabiteofeggintomymouth.“Andme.”
“Yousaythatlikeyou’renotjustasamazing.”
Isnorted.“Uh-huh.Thequietbooknerdtryingtomakeitinpublicrelations.Freakingawesome.”
Igavehimawrysmile,buthejustfrownedatme.
“You’redamngoodatwhatyoudo,”hesaid,allserious.“Ittakessomeonereallystrongandconfidenttobossaroundabunchofstudentathletes—especiallytheboneheadonesonourteam.Youruntheshowandyouknowit.”
Prideswelledinmychest,butIswalloweditdownalongwithanotherbiteofmyomelet.“Well…thankyou.Mymomwouldargueotherwise.Shealwayswantedmetobelikemyoldersisters—smart,athletic,modest.ShehatesthatIdon’tgotochurchanymore.”Ipaused.“ButDadgetsit.He’squietlikeme,andhewasalwayscontenttoleavemealonewhenI’dretreattomyroomandgetlostinmybooks.AnytimeMomwouldstarttoberateme,he’dsteerhertowardoneofmysiblings,refocusingher.”Ismiled.“Wedon’treallytalkmuch,butit’slikeanunspokenunderstandingofoneanother.”
“Sometimesthosearemorepowerfulthanwords,anyway.”
Inoddedmyagreement,pickinguparoguepieceofavocadoandpoppingitbetweenmylips.“Speakingoffamily,everythingokaywithyourdad?”
AllemotionwipedfromClay’sface.
“Ijust…Iheardyoualittleonthephone.Notmuch,justthatitwashim.”
Hecrackedhisneck,diggingintohisomelet.“He’sfine.”
“Areyoutwoclose?”
Hestilled,forkfrozenintheair.
“Comeon,”Isaid.“Ispilled.Yourturn.”
Heletoutasigh,thentookhisfirstbiteoftheomelet.Hisfaceshiftedthen,andhegroaned,turningtomewithanincredulouslook.“Thishishdelishush.”
Ilaughed.“English,please?”
Heswallowed.“Thisisdelicious.What’sinit?”
“Egg,basil,mozzarella,avocado,andturkeybacon.”
Clayblinked.“You’relikeafuckingchef.”
“Hardly,”Isaidwithalaugh.“Andstopdeflecting.Tellmeallyourdeep,darkdaddyissues.”Iplayfullyleanedtowardhimlikeareporter,speakingintomyforklikeamicrophonebeforeIangledittowardhim.
Herolledhiseyes.“Nothingoriginalaboutthem,Ipromise.HeandmymomdivorcedwhenIwasyoung.Accordingtohim,shewasmanipulativeandjealous.Accordingtoher,hewassteppingoutonher.Whoknowsthetruth.AllIknowishehadanewwifelessthanayearlater,andanewfamilyshortlyafterthat.”
“Newfamily?”
“Ihavetwohalf-brothers,”heexplained.“BothofwhomI’vespentonlyahandfulofholidayswith.TheygetallDad’sattention,though—saveforwhenI’mplayingafootballgame.”
Ifrowned,pushingtheeggaroundonmyplate.“I’msorry.”
Heshrugged.“Itiswhatitis.MomandIareprettyclose,thoughshehasherissues,too.Onesecondshe’sflyinghighwithanewguyinherlife,andthenextshe’s…”Hepaused.“Well,she’snotherself.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
Ashadowofsomethingpassedoverhisface,hiseyesonhisplate.“Shestrugglesmentally.Whenthingsgethard,whenshe’salone…sheturnstothingssheshouldn’t.”
Heleftitatthat,lettingmeputtogetherthemissingpieces.
“Seemslikeyouhadalotonyourshouldersgrowingup,”Imused.
Hiseyesmetmine,browsunfurling.“Yeah.Yeah,IguessIdid.”Hesearchedmygaze.“Soundslikeyoulearnedtomakeitonyourownprettyyoung,too.”
Thecornerofmymouthslidup.“IthinkIpreferitthatway.”
Hemetmysmile,butthenhisphonebuzzed,andhepickeditupquickly,frowningwhenhesawitwasHoldenbeforehesatitbackdownagain.
“SomethinghappenedwithMaliyahyesterday,didn’tit?”Iasked.
Heclearedhisthroat,nodding.
“Whatwasit?”
“Ranintoherafterthegame,”hesaid,sniffing.“Wetalkedabit.”
“And?”
Hesmirkedatme.“Nosy.”
“Comeon!ItellyoueverythingaboutShawn.”
“Fair,”heconceded,sittingbackonhisbarstool.“SheaskedhowIwas,pretendedlikeshecared.Triednot-so-sneakilytopryaboutwhatwasgoingonwithus,”hesaid,wavingbetweenmeandhimself.“ItoldherIwasmovingon.Itpissedheroffandmadeherjealous.”
Mystomachflippedandsouredatonce.“Well…that’sgood,right?”
“It’ssomething,”heagreed,cuttinganotherbiteoffhisomelet.“IdefinitelythinkitshockedherthatIdidn’tgivein.”
“Whydidn’tyou?”Ipaused.“Imean,thatwastheplan,right?”
“Yes,butnotthissoon.Iknowherwellenoughtoknowshe’sjustpullingonthestring,seeingifIdowhatshewants.”
Ibitdowntheurgetosayhowfuckedupthatwas,takinganotherbiteofmybreakfast,instead.
“Butitshookherup,forsure.Maliyahislikefamilytome,”hesaid,andthewordsstungmeforsomereasonIdidn’tunderstand.“Andherfamilyislikemyown.That’sbeentheweirdestpartofthis,notjustlosingher,butherparentsandsister,too.”
InoddedlikeIunderstood,eventhoughIdidn’t.
“IfIknowanythingforsureabouther,though,it’sthatshe’sadaddy’sgirl.Shewantstobejustlikehim.Andhe’salawyer.”
Iliftedabrow.
“Exactly.Sheknowsmebetterthanalmostanyone,andshe’snotafraidtousewhatsheknowstogetwhatshewants.She’susedtomebendingoverbackwardforher.Samewithmydad,whichiswhyhewasfrustratedIdidn’tcallhimafterthegamelikeIpromisedIwould.”Hefrowned.“IguesswithMom,too.Maybewitheveryone.”
“Youliketohelpothers,”Isaideasily.“IwatcheditalllastseasonwithRileyandZeke,andIseeiteverydayinthelockerroomandonthefieldandinweighttraining.You’realwayspushingeveryonearoundyou,guidingthem,givingthempointersandtips.”
Helickedhislip.“Yeah.”
“It’snotabadthing.”
“It’snotalwaysagoodthing,either.”
Inodded.“Well,howaboutthis,”Isaid,turningtofacehiminmychair.“Fromnowon,beforeyoudosomethingforsomeoneelse,makesureit’ssomethingforyou,too.Deal?”
“That’saloteasiersaidthandone.”
“Try.”
Hesmirked.“Okay.Deal.”
“Speakingofdeals,”Isaid,turningbacktothebar.“You’renotjusthelpingmewith…youknow…thingsbecauseyoufeelobligatedto,right?”
“No,”heansweredeasily.“I’mdoingitbecauseIlikeyou.”
Mycheekswarmed.
“AndbecauseIcan’twatchyouswoonoverMusicBoyanymorewithoutgettingill.”
“Hey!”Ismackedhisarm.“Idonotswoon.”
Claystood,battinghislashesasheclaspedhishandsbyhischin.“Oh,Shawn!Ilovethatsong!Oh,Shawn,whatbighandsyouhave!Allthebettertoplaythatbig,badguitarwith.Oh,Shawn!”
Ipickedupapieceofbaconthathadfallenoutofmyomeletandflickeditathimbeforehecouldcontinue,lovingtheroarofalaughthatcamefromhimwhenIdid.
“I’vegottorun,”hesaid,lookingatthetimeonhisphonebeforehetuckeditaway.“I’mmeetingHoldenforsomedrills.”
“It’sSunday.Yourdayoff,”Iremindedhim.“Youjustplayedagameyesterday.”
Heshrugged.“Whenyouwanttobethebest,therearenodaysoff.”Then,hepaused.“Areyou…okaythismorning?”
Iflushed,lookingdownatmyplate.“Alittlesore,but…yes.”
“Good.”
Heopenedhismouthlikehewantedtosaysomethingelse,butneverdid.Instead,heswipedhishoodieoffthebackofthebarstoolwherehe’dleftitthenightbefore.
Then,heleanedinandswiftlykissedmycheek.
“Thanksforbreakfast,Kitten,”hesaid.
Hewasgoneinthenextmoment.
Andsuddenly,myapartmentfeltalotmoreempty.Clay
“Watch,watch!”IyelledtoDaneatournextgame,pointingtowhereawidereceiverhadjustjoggedfrominfrontofme,downtheline,tolandinfrontofhim,instead.Henoddedaffirmatively,andIbentlow,fingerswigglingatmysidesasIglaredattheplayeracrossfrommethroughthemetalofmyhelmet.
Therewereonlytwentysecondsleftontheclock,andwewerebeatingthePhiladelphiaLionsbythreepoints.Butiftheygotcloseenoughtokickafieldgoal,we’dbegoingintoovertime.
Iwasnotgoingintoovertime.
Especiallynotonmybirthday.
“Shutitdown,boys!”someonescreamedfromthesidelines.ItsoundedalotlikeZeke,andIsankevenlowerinmycrouch,determinationpricklingmyskin.
Theballwassnapped,andthequarterbackfellintothepocketwithhiseyesscanning.Theyneededatleastfifteenmoreyardstobeinagoodfieldgoalposition,anditwasthirddown—soIknewhewouldlaunchit.
HiseyesflickedtothereceiverwhohadgonedownbyDane,butDanewasonhimlikewhiteonrice.SotheQBkeptsearching,andwhenourdefensivelinestartedtobreakthrough,hepanicked,launchingtheballdownthemiddleofthefield.
IkickedagainsttheturfashardasIcould,jukingthereceiverIwascoveringtoruntowardthetightendwhowaswideopen.DanecaughtonasecondafterIdid,buthewastoolate.Evenafterhestartedrunning,Iknewhewouldn’tgetthereintime.
SoIdugindeeper,harder,mythighsandcalvesscreaminginprotestasIgaveiteverythingIhad.
Then,outofnowhere,oneofourdefensivelinemenhoppedupfromwherehe’dbeenpushedbackintoourzone,andhetippedtheball.
Itwobbled,spinningofftarget,andwithouthesitation,Ileaptintotheairandsnaggeditbeforetheoffensecouldevenrealizewhatwashappening.
TheroarofthecrowdassaultedmeasIlanded,spinningjustintimetoavoidatackle,andsprintingtheoppositewaydownthefield.Mylungswereonfire,ribsaching,butIkepton,glancingbehindmetofindtheoppositeteamonmytail.
“Go!Go!Go!”
Riley’sdistinctvoicepiercedthroughthenoise,andIpushedharder,glancinguptoseetheclockwasabouttorunout.
Anditdid.
RightasIcrossedoverintotheendzone.
“TOUCHDOWNREBELS!”theannouncerbellowed,andourhometeamwentabsolutelyinsaneasIpuffedmychestandthrewtheballintothestands.Iwasbombardedbymyteammatesinthenextbreath,myhelmetbeingsmackedhardenoughtoconcussmeastheyhypedmeup.Then,beforewecouldgetintroublefromthecoachortheofficialsfortoomuchcelebrating,wealljoggedtowardthesideline,onlytobeencompassedbyreporters.
Itwasmadness,andIfieldedthrougheachquestionthatwasthrownatmeuntilIcouldn’ttakeanymore.Itwasmyfuckingbirthday,andIdidn’twanttospendallofitansweringthesameshitoverandover,butIalsodidn’twanttobeapaininGiana’sass.So,Ipolitelyansweredandthenpolitelyexcusedmyselfandmademywayintothelockerroom.
“Waytoendthegame,youshowboatingsonofabitch,”HoldensaidwhenIdippedinside.Hegrinned,smackingmewiththeendofhisjerseybeforehethrewitinthedirtylaundrybasket.“Westillwouldhavewonifyouwouldhavejustrunouttheclock.”
Icrossedmyfeetanddidalittlespin,pluckingmyjerseyoffmyshoulders.“Yeah,butthatwouldn’tbeasfuntowatchonthehighlightreelslater,wouldit?”
Holdenshookhishead,buthissmilewaswide,hairmattedtohisforeheadafteragruelinggame.Itwasatleaststartingtocoolofffinally,falltakingoverthenortheastlikeitalwaysdidthistimeofyear.
“Clay,”Leosaid,noddingatmeasheroundedintothelockerroomandsethishelmetonthebench.“Youhaveavisitor.”
Henoddedtowardthehallway,andagrinsplitmyfaceasIjoggedout,readytowrapGianainasweatyhugwhethershewantedoneornot.Ihadn’tseenheroutsideofusbothworkingatthestadiumsincelastweek,mecaughtupinpractice,andherwiththeupcomingauction.
Andeveryminutesincethatnight,herlittlewhimpersofpleasurewereabouttheonlyfuckingthingIcouldthinkof.
IthadbeensomuchmorethanIexpected,thanIcouldhaveeverimagined,strippingher,touchingher,tastingher.Iknewshe’daskedmetobeherfirst,butIhadn’trealizedthatmeantherfirsteverything.Thegirlhadn’tevenhadanorgasm.
Untilme.
Itwasfuckingstupidhowmuchthatlitmeupwithpride,howmuchitmadethebeastinsidemewalkwithalittlemoreswaggerinitsstep.
ItwasalsofuckingstupidhowmuchIhadthoughtabouthersince.
EverymorningIwokeuptoatextfromher—eitherasimplegoodmorningor,morecommonly,arandomquestionaboutsexorhowtoturnaguyon.
Weneedtorevisittheballsconversation.Iwanttrainingonhowtohandlethem.
Doguyslikeredlipstick,orisitjustamessyinconvenience?
Tellthetruth:domyskirtsmakemelookcuteorhot?BecauseI’maimingforhot.
When’sournextlesson?
Ofcourse,thosequestionsturnedintoustextingallday,sneakingaminutetogetherwheneverwecouldatthestadium.AndeverychanceIcould,Iwaspullingherinforakiss.
EvenwhenMaliyahwasn’taround.
Itoldmyselfitwasbecauseitwouldmakeitallseemmorereal.ItwouldconvinceMaliyahthatIwasn’tjustdoingitforshow.It’llgetbacktoher,Iassuredmywhirringbrain,it’llreallymakeherwantyouback.
Thosewordsplayedonrepeat.
Thatdidn’texplainwhyI’dsnuckacoupleofGiana’sbooksoutundermyshirtwhenI’dpoppedbytobringherdinnerinthemiddleoftheweek.She’dquicklykickedmeoutsinceshewasstudyingforatest.ButItookthosebooksanddidalittlestudyingofmyown.
Imemorizedwhatpagesshe’ddog-eared,orhighlighted,whichoneshadthedistinctoilfromherfingertipsbeingonthemmorefrequentlythanothers.
AndwhatIfoundsurprisedme.
IwaseagertotestthetheoriesI’dcomeupwiththenexttimewewerealone,andtoteaseheralittle—whichwasquicklybecomingmyfavoritepastime.
Islungintothehallway,readytofireoffsomesmartassremarkaboutholdingthepresswhenIcamefacetofacewithCoryVail.
Mysmiledissolvedlikesaltinhotwater.
“Myboy,”hesaid,smilewideasheheldhisarmsopenforahug.Hedidn’twaitformetoslideintothem.Instead,hewrappedmeupinabearhug,clappingmehardontheshoulderashereleasedme.
Istoodthereinshock,takinginthefatherofmyex-girlfriendwhohadalwaysfeltlikeafathertome,too.Hewasbeamingwithpride,hiseyesthesamebrownasMaliyah’s.HewasastallasIwas,butthicker,likeatreestumpofaman.Hewasdressedtotheninesashealwayswas,fromhiswell-tailored,navybluesuitandsilvercufflinks,tothePradadressshoesonhisfeet.
Powerandconfidence—that’swhathealwaysexuded.
“Thatwasahellofagame,”hesaid.“I’mgladIwasheretoseeit.”
Iblinked,shakingoffmysurprise.“Iam,too.”
“Yourfutureislookingbrighterandbrighter.Iknowyoudon’tneedmetotellyou,butI’mproudofyou,Clay.”Henodded,somethingcautiousinhiseyes.“Inevergottospeaktoyouaftereverythinghappened.”
Everythingmeaninghisdaughterthrowingmyheartinablender.
“Iwon’tpretendtounderstandmybabygirl,”hesaidwithagentlesmile.“ButIwilltellyouthis—Ithinkitwasamistake.AndIhopesherealizesthat,too.”
Aknotformedinmythroat.
“AndIalsowantyoutoknowthatregardless,I’mstillhereforyou.Always.Okay?Anytimeyouneedsomething—youjustpickupthephoneandcall.”
Inodded,bitingtheinsideofmylipasemotionsurgedthroughme.Ialmostwantedtofallintothebigman’sarmsandsob,tothankhimforbeinghere,forlovingme,forbelievinginme.
ButIalsowantedtodistancemyself.
NomatterwhatIfeltgrowingupwithhim,hewasn’tmyfamily—notthen,andcertainlynotnow.
Ihadtogetthatthroughmyheadsoonerorlater.
“Thankyou,sir.Thatmeansalottome,”Imanaged.
AnodofunderstandingwasallhewasabletooffermebeforeMaliyahswungaroundthecorner,throwingherselfintoCory’sarms.
“Daddy!”
“Hey,sweetheart.Youlookedgreatoutthere.”
ShesmiledandbeamedunderhispraisejustlikeIdid,andmyheartachedforarealitywheremyfathercametohomegamesandmetmeinthelockerroomafter.
Maliyah’seyescaughtonme,andsheswallowed,glancingupatherdadandthenback.
“Iwanttosayhellotoafriendinthefrontoffice,”Corysaid,anditdidn’tsurprisemethathehadfriendsonthestaff.
Hehadfriendseverywhere.
“Meetmeatthecar?”heasked,andthenhekissedhisdaughter’scheekwithoutwaitingforaresponse.
Whenwewerealone,Maliyah’seyessearchedmine.
Andthen,withoutwarning,shethrewherselfintomyarms.
“Thatwasamazing!”shebreathed,holdingmetightasIwrappedherupjustthesame.Forabriefmoment,Iinhaledherscent,inhaledthewayitfelttoholdherfamiliarbodytomychest.
Butinthenext,Ilethergo,steppingbacktoputspacebetweenus.
“Yousoundsurprised,”Iansweredcoolly.
“Well,Iknewyouweregood,but…Ilikebeingremindedjusthowgood.”
Sheofferedmeateasingsmile,draggingherfingertipdownmystomach.
“Someofusaregoingout,”sheadded.“Youshouldcome.”
Isniffed,lookingdownthehallbehindher.“We’llsee.”
“Comeon,youhavetocelebrateafterthat,”shepleaded,andthenshetuckedherfingerintothebandofmyfootballpantsandtuggedmeintoher.Herlipspressedrightagainsttheshellofmyearasshepressedupontohertoes.“Itisyourbirthday,afterall.I’dliketogiveyouagift.”
Ihatedthatmycockrespondedtothatvoicewhisperinginmyear,thatmyskinbrokeoutinchillsathertouch.Shesmiledwhenshepulledback,likesheknewshestillhadthateffectonme—likeshelovedit.
Andthatcooledthefire.
Ipeeledherhandsoffme.“Ihaveplans.”
BeforeIcouldturn,shestoppedme,herhandwrappingaroundmyforearmtowhipmebackaround—notthatI’dfoughtit.
“Withher?”sheasked,eyesnarrowing.
“That’snoneofyourbusiness.”
Maliyahshookherhead.“Whyareyouplayingthisgame,Clay?Iknowyouwantme.”Shesteppedintome,hercleavagepressingagainstmylowerribs.Herhandsliddownthen,cuppingmethroughmypants.“Icanfeelit.”
Ishruggedheroffsoquicklyshealmostfell.“That’sacup.Seeyouaround.”
Ileftherwithherjawonthefloor,andonceagain,ItriedtotellmyselfIdiditbecauseIknewitwastooearly.Herfatherhadprettymuchinsinuatedasmuch.She’dtossmeasidejustasquicklyifIgaveinnow.
Shejustwantedtotestme,andthiswasmepassing.
Thiswasallpartoftheplan.
IwasstillconvincingmyselfofthatwhenIwasshoweredanddressed,textingGianathatIwouldmeetherinheroffice.
Tenminutes,shetextedback.
Andthenmyphonerang.
Mom’sbrightsmilelitupthescreen,herarmaroundmywaistatmyhighschoolgraduation.Ismirkedatthesight,knowingwhenIanswered,I’dheartheworstandloudestrenditionoftheHappyBirthdaysong.Itwasherfavoritethingtodo,singitobnoxiouslyenoughthatIhidmyfaceinembarrassment,andthatdidn’tchangewhenImovedacrossthecountry.
Lastyear,shemademeputheronspeakerphoneinthemiddleofourweighttraining.
“Mom,beforeyoustart,I’malone.Soyoudon’thaveanaudienceifyouwanttosaveyourvocalchords.”
ThejokediedalongwithmysmilewhenIwasmetwithachoked-offsobontheotherend.
Heatcreptintomyears,myheartpoundingasIduckedintooneoftheassistantcoach’sofficethatwasempty.“Whathappened?”
Foralongtime,shejustcried,thesobssoloudIpulledmyphonefrommyearandstartedlookingatflightsthatIcouldcatchouttonight.Ithoughtshewashurt,orthatsomeonehaddied.Butthenshefinallyspoke.
“Hebrokeupwithme.”
Iclosedmyeyesonarelievedexhale,butknewIcouldn’tletonthatwasmyreactiontoher.“I’msorry,Mom.”
Shesniffed.“Hewastheone.Ithought…Ithoughthewasgoingtoaskmetomarryhim.”
Iscratchedthebackofmyneck,thinkingofallthethingsIcouldsaytocomforther.Itwasafamiliarcyclenow,oneIhopedshehadn’tcaughtonto.“It’shisloss.”
TherewasmoresobbingontheotherendasIgatheredmybelongingsandnoddedatafewguysleftinthelockerroomasImademywayintothehall.
“You’reanamazingwoman,Mom.Ifhedidn’tseethat,thenhe’sanidiot.Thereissomeonebetteroutthereforyou.”
“There’snooneoutthereforme!”
Shescreamedthewords,cryingontheendofthem.
“I’mold,andtired,andbroke,”shechokedout.Sniffing,shepausedonlytoadd,“I’m…I’mreallybroke,Clay.”
Thehaironthebackofmyneckraised.“Didsomethinghappenattherestaurant?”
Anotherlongpausemetme.
“I…IwasgoingtotellyouwhenyoucameforThanksgiving.Iquit.Alongtimeago,actually.”
“Youwhat?”
“Brandonwastakingcareofme!”Shecriedoutherdefense.“Hewastakingcareofeverything.Hewaspayingmybills,makingplansformetomoveinwithhim,makingplansfor…”Shehiccupped.“Hepromised.He…”
Herwordstrailedoffasmoretearsfoundher,andIcursed,stoppingaroundthecornerfromthehallwaythatledtoGiana’soffice.
“They’lltakeyouback,”Isaid.“Theyalwaysdo.”
“Notthistime.”Shesniffed.“Itried.They’reoverit.AndIdon’tblamethem.Ihaven’tbeenagoodemployeeformany,manyyears.”
“That’snottrue.You’rethemostcharmingonethereandtheyknowit.”
Sheletoutasarcasticlaugh.“Mycharmranoutalongwithmybeautyyearsago.”
Inhalingalong,deepbreath,Iletitoutjustasslowlybeforetryingtosootheheragain.“Iknowthingsarehardrightnow,butitwillworkout.Youcanfindanewjob.”
“It’snotthateasy!”
Iclosedmyeyesasshecriedmore,wishingIwastheretocomfortherjustasmuchasIwishedIcouldshakesomesenseintoher.
“Hey,it’llbeokay.Icanhelpuntilyougetthingssorted.”
“Really?”Shesniffed.
Theinstantreliefshehadfromthatmademystomachsour.
Iwantedtohelpher.Iwouldalwayshelpthewomanwhokeptme,whocaredforme,whoraisedmewhenmyfatherwalkedaway.
Butthefactthatshenowexpectedithurt.
“Oh,Clay.You’retoogoodtome.”
“Idon’thavemuch,”Iconfessed.“Buttheygiveusalittlebitofastipendwithourscholarship.Icanhelpwithbillsuntilyougetonyourfeet.Just…promisemeyou’llstartlooking,Mom.”
“Ipromise.”
Inodded.“Alright,well…Igottago.ButIloveyou.”
“Iloveyou,too,sweetie.”
“Everythingwillbeokay.”
Shedidn’trespond,butIcouldimaginehernodding,couldimagineherhairawreckandhereyesswollenandpuffyandredbecauseI’dseenherthatwaysomanytimesbefore.
Thelinewentdead,andIblinked,frowningatmyphonewhenItookitawayfrommyear.Itwasn’tthathergoingthroughabreakupwassurprising.
Butthefactthatshehadn’twishedmeahappybirthdaywas.
Ichalkedituptoherbeingupset,thinkingofhowIwaswhenMaliyahbrokeupwithme.Icouldn’tbeagoodfriendtoanyoneduringthattime.So,Islippedmyphoneintothepocketofmyhoodieandroundedthecornertowardthefrontoffices.
AndIprayedshewouldn’tturntothebottleorthepillswhileIfiguredthingsout.
Ididn’thavetimetothinkabouthowmuchmoneyMomwouldneed,howmuchIcouldhonestlyaffordtogiveher,oranythingelseregardingthebreakupbecauseassoonasIpushedthroughthedoortothePRoffices,ashowerofconfettiraineddownonme.
“HAPPYBIRTHDAY!”
Gianadidalittlehop-likedance,blowingastreamerthatsoundedlikeafoghorn.Agiant,glitterybannerhungaboveherhead,andhereyeswerewideandjoyfulinthecandlelightcomingfromthetwoandzerocandlesinahomemadecakeonherdesk.
“Hurry,beforetheymelt,”shesaid,shovingmetowardthecandles.“Makeawish!”
Iwantedtobehappy.Iwantedtosmile.IwantedtotellherwhatanerdshewasandhowmuchIadoredit.
ButallIcoulddowasblowthecandlesoutwithasoftbreath.
Gianaclapped,removingthemandsettingthemasideasshestartedcuttingthecake.
“Ihadnoideawhatyouliked,butIfiguredIcouldn’tgowrongwithchocolate.Andsprinkles,ofcourse.Everyonelovessprinkles.”Shehandedmeaplatewithahugesliceonit.“Shawnwasatthegametoday.Wetalkedalittleafterthemediafrenzy.HeaskedifIwouldbeatthecoffeeshoptowatchhimatallthisweek.”Shewaggledherbrowsatmeassheforkedoffabiteofherownsliceofcake.“Bytheway,youdidnothavetogothathardwiththelastplay,butIamsodamngladyoudid.Thatwasincredible.Thereporterswereinatizzy.You’regoingtobealloverESPNtonight.”
Shesmiled,handingmeafork,butIcouldn’treturnanyofherenthusiasm.Andwhensherealizedit,hersmilefell.
“What’swrong?”
Iswallowed.“Mymom.”
ItwastheonlyanswerIcouldgive,butfortunately,Gianadidn’tpressformore.Herbrowsfoldedin,andshenoddedinunderstanding,grabbingthecakeoutofmyhandandsettingitbackonherdesk.
“Comeon.Let’sgosomewhere.”
“Where?”
“You’llsee.”Clay
Weweretheonlyonesattheuniversityobservatory.
Becauseofcoursewewere—itwasSaturdaynightandourteamhadjustwonafootballgameagainstoneofourrivals.Everyoneelsewasoutpartying,whetheratThePitorabaroffcampus.
Everyone,thatwas,exceptformeandGiana.
Shehadn’tsaidawordonthewalkover,ourstepsintimeonthequietsidewalk.Wecouldhearstudentscelebratingallacrosscampus,butitbecamemoreandmoredistantaswegottotheoutsideperimeter,andfadedaltogetherwhentheoff-whitedomeoftheobservatoryfirstcameintoview.
Apimple-facedkidchewingbubblegumtooloudlyletusin,boredandbarelylookingupfromthegamehewasplayingonhisphone.
“Letmeknowifyouneedanything,”he’dsaidafterrunningovertherulesforthetelescopes—andthelookhegaveusasheleftusalonetoldmethatwehadbetternotneedanything,becausehewasn’tinthehelpingmood.
Then,itwasjustus.
Gianadumpedherbaginthecorneroftheoval-shapedroom,eyesbrightbeneaththereflectivelensesofherglassesasshesmiledupattheopenskyaboveus.Mostofitwascoveredbythetopoftheobservatorydome,buttherewasawide-opengapwherethetelescopepointedthrough.Whenshebenttotakeherfirstlookthroughtheviewfinder,shegasped,smilewidening.
“Youhavetoseethis,”shebreathed,pullingawayonlytograbmywristandtugmeovertothemachine.
Therewerethreedifferenttelescopes,butshe’dpickedthelargestone,andwhenIbenttolookinformyself,Iunderstoodwhy.
TheskyaboveBostontypicallyonlygavewaytoafewstarsandmaybeaplanetortwo,thecitylightstoobrighttoseemuchelse.Butthroughthislens,thestarscametolife,awholegalaxyofthemsparklingintheblack.Butitwasn’tjustblack—youcouldevenseethegassesofpinkandblueswirlingamongthedarkness.
“Magnificent,isn’tit?”Gianaaskedbehindme.
Inodded,pullingawaysoshecouldlookinagain.Shecarefullyadjustedsomesettingsandtheareaoffocus,smilinglikeakidinacandystorewhenshefoundwhatshewaslookingfor.
“Saturn,”shebreathed,andthenshetuggedmedowntolookwithher.
AndIcouldn’thidemysurprisewhenIdid.
“Whoa,”Isaid,inaweathowclearitwas,howwecouldseetheringsspreadoutaroundtheplanetasifitwerejustafootballfieldaway.
“Perfectvisibilityforittonight,”Gianasaid.“WeshouldbeabletofindMarsandJupiter,too.”
Ishookmyhead,pullingbacktoletherplaywiththesettingsagain.Asshedid,Iwatchedher,completelyawestruckbyhowshelitupwhenshehadeducationatherfingertips.Shewasantsythewayadrugfiendmightbebeforeahit—bouncingalittleonhertoes,smilingsowideitmademycheekshurt.
“Saturnismostlyhydrogen,”shesaidasshesquintedthroughthelensandslowlymovedthescopewiththecontrols.“Italsohasone-hundred-and-fiftymoons.Canyoubelievethat?Thatplanetisinthesamesolarsystemasoursandit’smostlygasandmoons.”Sheshookherhead.“Wild.”
Thecornerofmymouthcreptupwatchingherinherelement.Nothingampedherupthewaydiscoveringsomethingnewdid,andImarveledathowcuriousshewas,athowshewaslikeanendlessencyclopediaoffunfacts,notbecauseshe’dstudiedandcommittedanythingtomemory,butbecauseshesimplylovedlearningthatmuch.
Butasfastasthesmilehadbloomed,itdiedagain,mychestachingwiththoughtsofmymomsufferingontheothersideofthecountry.
“Foundit!”Gianasaid,andsheshovedmetowardthescope.“Mars.”
Ipeeredthrough,commentingonwhatlookedlikeitcouldbeanicecapbeforeGianalaunchedintoanessayonthepowerfulsnowstormsonMars.Ilistenedwithadistantkindofawareness,leaningagainstthebackwallofthedomeandwatchingherworkwiththescope.
AndItriedtomakeitwork.
Iwantedtobedistractedbyher,byscience,bythestarsandtheuniverse.Butwhileitshouldhaveremindedmehowsmallmyproblemswere,itsomehowworkedtodotheopposite,andIfoundmyselfwonderingwhyI’dmovedsofarawayfrommymominthefirstplace.
Maybeitwasmyfaultshewassearchingsodesperatelyforsomeonetoloveandtakecareofher,becauseIhadbeenthatperson,andnowIwasgone.
Mystomachtwistedatthethought,evenasanotheronechasedrightbehindit,remindingmethatshe’dalwaysbeenlookingforapartner—eversinceDadleft.
Butstill,Icouldhavebeenthere,Icouldhavebeendoingmore
ItwasselfishofmetochasemydreamsofplayingintheNFLwhenIcouldhavebeenhomewithher.Icouldhaveafull-timejobbynow,onewithbenefitsandadecentsalary.Icouldbetakingcareofherineverywaysheneeds.Attheveryleast,Icouldhavegonetoschoolsomewhereclose,inCalifornia,whereshewasjustaquickdriveaway.
Instead,Iwasfocusedonmyself.
Allthethoughtsandguiltwarredinsideme,andGianamusthaveseen,becauseherbrowsfoldedtogetherwhenshelookedoverhershoulderatmeperchedagainstthewall.
“Comeon,”shesaid,gatheringherthings.“Let’sgouptothedeck.”
Ifollowedherquietlyupthestairs,andweweremetwithasoft,coolbreezewhenwereachedthetopoftheobservationdeck.Gianatuckedhercardiganaroundhermoreforwarmth,andIslippedmyhandsintothefrontpocketofmyhoodie.
Therewereafewsmalltelescopesalongtherailingofthedome,butGianadidn’tgoforanyofthem.Instead,shetossedherbagdowntothesideandsliddowntheoutsideofthedometositonthedeck,pattingthespotnexttoherformetodothesame.
“Ihatethatyou’rethissadonyourbirthday,”sheconfessedwhenIsatnexttoher,mykneesspread,elbowsbalancedonthem,andhandsclaspedin-between.
Ididn’trespond.
“Talktome,”shepleaded,anglingherselftowardme.“Tellmewhathappened.”
Iclosedmyeyes,shakingmyheadbeforeIopenedthemagainandstaredatmysneakers.“Can’t,”Imanaged.
“Whynot?”
Becauseit’shardtoexplain.BecauseI’membarrassed.BecauseI’mashamed.BecauseI’mterrifiedthere’snothingIcando.BecauseIhatethatit’smyresponsibilityandfeellikeanassholeforfeelingthatway.
Allthoseresponsesandmorerushedthroughmymind,butIjustshookmyheadagain,unabletosayasingleoneofthem.
Gianaletoutalongexhale,thennodded,asifshe’dheardwhatIcouldn’tdaretosay.“Okay,”shesaid.“Thenuseme.”
Ifrowned,especiallywhenshecrawledovertositbetweenmylegs.Shesatonherkneesinfrontofme,forcingmetoopenmystance,tounclaspmyhandsandletherin.ShequiteliterallyforcedherwayinuntilIhadnochoicebuttolookather.
IwasdevastatedwhenIdid.
Itwasn’thercurlyhair,abitfrizzyfromthegameandalongdaybeforethat.Itwasn’tthefrecklesonhercheeks,orthesoftmoonlightreflectedinheraquaeyes.Itwasn’tevenherbrick-red-and-goldplaidskirt,themodestblackblouseshe’dpairedwithit,ortheknee-highblackstockingsthatdrovememadanytimesheworethem.
Itwashowshelookedatme.
ItwashowshewatchedmewithsomuchcareandreverencethatIwasfuckingspeechless,unabletomove,unabletodoanythingbutwatchherinreturn.
“Usemetotakeyourmindoffwhateveritisthat’shurtingyou,toescape.”Sheswallowed.“Givemeanotherlesson.”
Iletoutashakybreaththroughmynose,readytoarguethatnowwasn’tthetime,butherlipssilencedmebeforeIcould.Sheleanedforward,kissingmeslowlyandconfidently,herhandsframingmyfaceasminecametoherwaistlikeitwasthemostnaturalthingintheworld.
“Ineedyou.Showmewhat’snext,”shebreathedagainstmymouth,herlipshoveringthereassheadded,“Andthistime,Iwantyoutogofirst.”
Ifrownedwhenshekissedmeagain,squeezingherhipsalittleasIpulledback.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Imeanthatlasttimeyouwereleftwithoutarelease,”sheclarified,andthenwithalltheconfidenceofawomanwhokneweverythinginsteadoftheshynessofagirlaskingmetoshowher,sheclimbedintomylap,theheatofheragainstmyabdomenasshesettledintoplace.“Tonight,Iwanttomakeyoufeelgoodfirst.Iwant…”Sheswallowed,likeshewasashamed,butthenheldherchinabithigherandlookedmerightintheeyes.“Iwantyoutoshowmehowtotasteyou.”
JesusfuckingChrist
Iclosedmyeyesonadragonexhaletokeepfromsayingthatoutloud,andIfelttheravenousanimalinsidemeroaringtolife.Gianapressedintome,kissingmebeforeIcouldoverthinkit,beforeIcouldthinkofanyargumenttostopher.
“Please,”shebegged,rollingherhipsagainstme,andIhissedatthecontact,athowhardIalreadywasforher.
Icouldn’tspeak,couldn’tputintowordshowmuchhearingthatsheneededmewasexactlywhatIneeded.So,Iansweredherwithakissofmyown,cradlingthebackofherneckandholdinghertomeasIopenedmymouthandcuedhertodothesame.Isweptmytongueinside,cherishingthesoftwhimperofamoanthatslippedfromGianawhenIdid.Herhandstwistedinmyhairuntiloneofthemsnakeddownbetweenus,andsheranherpalmalongmylengthstrainingagainstmysweatpants.
“Fuck,”Icursed,rollingintothetouch.Imanagedtopause,toopenmyeyesandlookathowtentativeshewaswatchingme.“Areyousure?”
“Showme.”
Sheansweredsoquickly,sodefinitivelythatmycocktwitchedunderherpalm,andshewetherlips,eyesfallingdowntolookatmybulgeasshegrippeditalittlefirmer.
Carefully,Ihoistedheroffmylap,leavingherthereonherkneesasIstood.Itoweredoverher,noseflaringatthesightofherlookingupatmeasIwenttoundothetieofmysweatpants.Asifshe’dmissedsomesortofcue,shepushedupontohershins,handsreachingouttofinishthejob.
“Letme.”
Ipaused,internallygroaningfromjustthosetwowordsalone.IclenchedmyjawsoharditachedasIwatchedhertenderlyloosenthestrings,andthenshetuckedherslenderfingertipsintheband,tuggingthemdownmyhips.
Shehesitatedwhentheywerealittlehardtogetoff,lookingupatmelikeshewassecond-guessing.Andlikealightbulbinthedark,Irememberedherbooks.
Irememberedeverysceneshehighlighted,andIknewwithoutaskingwhatsheneededfromme.
“Showmeyouwantit,”Idemanded,voicelowandfirm.
Herlipsparted,chestheavingasshekepthereyesonmeandtuggedmysweatpantswithmoreforce.Thistime,theyslidovermyassanddowntomyknees.Withouthesitation,shegrabbedmybriefsanddidthesamewiththem,freeingmyerection.
Theairwastoocold,andasifshesensedit,herwarmhandwrappedaroundmeassoonasmybriefswereatmyknees.Ihissedatthecontact,andshelookedupatmewithworriedeyes.
Then,withoutawordofguidancefromme,shepulledherhandawayfromme,ranhertongueoverherpalmandalongeachofherfingers,andthentouchedmewiththewetness.
“Likethis,right?”sheaskedasmyeyesrolledback,kneesbucklingabitathowitfelttohaveherwarm,wetfistwraparoundme.
“Yes,”Ibreathed.“Now,teaseme.Getmeworkedup.”
Shefrowned.“How?”
“Dowhatfeelsnatural,andlistentohowIreact.”Ilickedmylips.“Youlovetostudysomuch,Kitten…studyme.”
Hereyeswerehotwithdesire,andsheranherthumbovertheprecumonmytip,swirlingitinasmallcircle.Ibitmylipassherolledherhanddownmyshaftnext,allthewaytothebasebeforesheloosenedherhandenoughtobringittomycrownandbackdownagain.
“Justlikethat,”Ipraised,andlikeIknewshewould,Gianabeamed.
Hertentativenessfaded,andwithmoreconfidence,sherolledherhandovermeagain,upanddown,pressurefirmintherightplaces.
Iflexedintohertouch.“Iloveseeingyoulikethis,”Ihusked.“Onyourknees.”
Hereyelidsfluttered,andsheswallowed,squirmingabitasshecontinuedtoworkmewithherhand.
“Itturnsyouon,too,doesn’tit?”Iasked.
Sheblinkedupatme.“Y-yes.”
Theconfessionmademylipscurl.“Touchyourself,”Icommanded.“Showmehowwetyouare.”
Gianapinnedherbottomlipwithherteeth,onehandstillslowlyworkingmeastheotherdippedbetweenherthighs.Shespreadherkneeswidertoallowbetteraccess,andIknewthemomentsheslippedherfingersunderherpantiesbecauseherbreathcaught,lipsopening.
“Letmesee.”
Slowly,shewithdrewherhand,eyeswideningwhenshesawherglossyfingertipsbeforesheofferedthemuptome.
“Goodgirl.”
Sheshuddered,griptighteningovermyshaftsoIknewmywordsaffectedherjusthowIwantedthemto.Ismiled,steppingcloser,andherbackhitthedomesothatshehadnochoicebuttocomefacetofacewithwhereshegrippedme.
“Stickoutyourtongue.”
Hesitating,sheloosenedhergriponmeanddidasIasked.Andwhenthoseeyescrawledbackuptomine,Icouldn’thelpbutcurseoutloudatthesightofher—kneesstillspread,mouthopen,tongueout,chestheavingasshewaitedformynextmove.
“Justlikeourfirstlesson,everyguywillbedifferent,”Itoldher,wrappingahandaroundmylengthandleadingittohertongue.“Sotonight,you’regoingtoexperimentuntilyoufigureoutwhatitisIlike.”
Iranmyheadoverthelengthofhertongue,groaningatthesensationofhercoatingme.
“I’llguideyou,”Ipromised,notingtheworryinhereyeswhenIputthecontrolinherhands.
Then,Iletgo,holdingmyhandsatmysidesasGianastaredatmylengthinfrontofher.
Iwatchedinaweasthatsamedeterminationslippedoverher,andshepressedupontoherknees,grabbingmearoundtheshaftandbringingmycrowntoherlips.Shewetthemfirst,glidingthemalongmytipbeforesheslowlyopenedthemandsuckedmeinside.
“Fuuuccckkk,”Ihissed,closingmyeyesandflexingindeeperwithoutmeaningto.Gianaopenedforme,takinginthefirstinchandahalfbeforesheswirledhertonguearoundmeandreleased.
Ilookedbackdownatherwithheavylids,andsheheldmygazeassheopenedupagain,thistimetakingmeinevendeeper.
“Thereyougo,”Iwhispered,handcomingtocradlethebackofherhead.Iheldheronme,slidingherjustuptothetipofmebeforeIguidedhercarefullybackdownagain.“Justlikethat.”
Shelitupagain,mimickingthemovementasIremovedmyhandandlethertakecontrol.Herwarm,wetmouthslowlytookmoreandmoreofme,andeachcentimetersheenvelopedmademytoescurl.Sheclosedhereyes,butIsnappedmyfingerswhenshedid,makingherpopthembackopen.
“Eyesonme,”Itoldher.
MyheartgallopedinmychestasIthoughtofwhatIwantedtosaynext,whatIknewshe’dlovetohear.IfIwaswrong,thiscouldgoacompletelydifferentway.
ButIwasconfidentIwasright.
SoIheldhergazeandIsaid,“LookatmewhileIfuckthatprettymouth.”
Shemoanedaroundmyshaft,eyesflutteringbeforesheopenedthemwideandlockedthemonme.Theywereheatedwithevenmoredesireasshetookmeinagain,andthistime,shetookmesodeepshegaggedalittle.
Shamecoloredhercheeksasshewithdrew,coughingatthesensation.
“It’sokay,”Iassuredher,runningahandoverhercurls.“You’vegottobreathewithit.Inandoutthroughthenose,holdyourbreathwhenitgetsdeepenoughtotriggeragag.”
Shenodded,eyesonmyshaftjustlongenoughforhertotakeholdofitandguideitintohermouthbeforeshewaswatchingmeagain.
PleasurechurnedthroughmeasIwatchedhersuckmeinagain,overandoveruntilIhitdeeponcemore.Hereyeswatered,andsheheldherbreaththroughtwopumpsbeforeshegaggedagain.
“Fuck,that’shot,”Igroanedoutwhenshereleasedme,abitofsalivadrippingfromherlips.
“Itis?”
Inodded,guidingherbacktome.“Doitagain.”
Shesatupevenmoreonherknees,takingmeinagain,andthistime,sheslickedmethreetimesbeforetakingmeasdeepasshecould.Sheheldherbreath,eyeswateringandflutteringasshewatchedmeandfinallygaggedandreleased.
“Goddamn,Giana,”Ipraised,runningthepadofmythumboverherslickbottomlip.“Suchagoodfuckinggirl.”
Again,mytheorywasrewardedwhendesirecoatedhereyesandsheopenedhermouth,suckingmythumbbetweenherlipsandlashingatitwithhertongue.Igroaned,cocktwitchingandachinginjealousytohavethatmouthonitinstead.
“Now,useyourmouthandyourhand,”Itoldher,guidingherbacktome.“Fitthemtogether,rollyourhandinaseamwithyourmouthandgoasdeepasyoucan.Findarhythm.”Ipaused,holdinghergaze.“Makemecome.”
SheletoutasoftmoanasshedidwhatIsaid,fittinghermouthtomebeforeherhandslippedunderit.Ihelpedheratfirst,tellingherwhentoslowdownorgivemorepressure,butitwasn’tlonguntilIcouldn’ttellheranythinganymorebecausemyheadwasairy,skinpricklingasmyorgasmbuiltathertouch.
“Fuckyes,Kitten,justlikethat,”Isaid,hipsflexingasIpressedalittledeeperintohermouth.
Sheletme,workingmeintimewithherhand,headbobbingwithhereyesstilllockedonmine.Sheswirledhertonguearoundthelengthofme,makingmeseestarsandwanttobedeeper.
“I’mclose,”Iwarned,thewordsgrittingthroughmeasItriedtospeakwhenIwasconsumedbyhowshewasmakingmefeel.“YoucaneitherpullmeoutwhenI’mthere,oryoucantakeitinyourmouthandswallowmedown.”
Shemoaned,intensifyingherefforts,andIhadnowayofknowingwhatherchoicewouldbeuntilIgotthere.SoIletgo,givinguponinstructingandrevelinginhervelvet,slickhandwrappingmeupbeforeherwetmouthtookitsplace.Overandover,alittlefastereachtime,shepumpedmeasahotfirelickedupmyspine.
Ineededmore.
Carefullycradlingthebackofherneck,Iguidedherdowndeeper,alittlefaster,myeyessqueezingshutasshefoundjusttherightpressureandpacetopushmeovertheedge.
“Coming,”Imanagedthroughmyteeth,andIexpectedhertopullaway.Iexpectedtohavetopumpouttherestofmyreleaseonmyownandspillontothefuckingwood.Butinstead,sheheldherpace.
Andtomysurprise,shetookmeevendeeper.
“Fuck,”Icursed,andeverythingwentnumbasIreleased.
Ispilledintoherthroat,theorgasmevenstrongerwhenshegaggedalittlebutkepton,squeezingouteverylastdropofmeasIshookandcurledmyfingersinherhair.
Itriedtobequiet,knowingtheguidewholetusinwasstillinthefrontboothandcouldeasilycomeuptofindus.Thatthoughtmadeitevenhotter,thatshewassuckingmeknowingwecouldbecaughtatanyminute,andIstifledagroanasthelastofmyorgasmspilledintoGiana’smouth.
AninvoluntaryshakeleftmewhenshekeptgoingafterIwasspent,andIheldherback,slowingher,tremblingbreathsslippingthroughmylips.
“It’ssensitiveafter,”Itoldher,andshegentlyreleasedme,butnotbeforeshelookedmerightintheeyesandswallowed.
Then,shepressedafeather-lightkisstomyshaft,andshesmiled.“How’dIdo?”
Iletoutalittlelaughasanothertremblewentthroughme,andIbackeduplongenoughtopullmybriefsandsweatpantsbackup.
“Ithinkyoualreadyknowtheanswer.”
Sheflushed,smilebrightening.
“Butyouwanttohearit,don’tyou?”Iadded,loweringmyselfdowntowhereshewas.
Hereyeswidened,smilefadingasIinvadedherspace.
“Youwantmetotellyouhowgoodyoumademefeel,howhotitwastoseeyouonyourkneesforme,towatchasIfuckedyourmouth.”
Igrabbedherface,tiltingherupsoIcouldclaimhermouthinahot,possessivekiss.
“Youswallowedmycum,”Iremindedher,nippingherbottomlipwithmyteethassheletoutawhimperofamoan.“AndyouwanttoknowifIlikeditasmuchasyoudid.”
“Yes,”shebreathed,gaspingwhenItrailedbruisingkissesdownherneck.Iwasalreadyunfasteningherblouse,alreadylyingherbackagainstthedomewall.
“Letmeshowyou,”Iwhisperedintotheshellofherear.
AndthenIkissedmywaydown,readytofeast.
Giana
MyheartthunderedinmyearsasClaypressedmedownagainstthecoolmetaloftheobservatorydome,hishotkissestrailingdownthelengthofmybodyasItrembledbeneathhim.Iwasstillbreathingheavyfromgoingdownonhim,fromthepowerIfelthummingthroughmeatbeingtheonetomakehimunravel.
Hepausedatmynavel,pressingslow,lingeringkissesalongeachribasheunfastenedeverybuttonofmyblouseandpulleditfromwhereitwastuckedintomyskirt.Mymodestbreastsheavedwhenhepeeledthefabricawaytorevealthem,andhehummedinapproval,tracingthecupsofmybraovereachswellasmyskinpebbledunderthetouch.
“Justlikebefore,you’llhavetotellmewhatyoulike,”hemurmuredagainstmyskin,kissingthespotabovemybellybuttonasonefingerdippedunderthecupofmybra.Itbrushedagainstmynippleintimewithaswipeofhistongueovermystomach,andIshivered,handstighteningintofistsatmysides.“Andwhatyoudon’t.”
Inodded,thoughmyheartwasracingsoloudIcouldbarelyhearhim.Ijustwatchedinamixtureoffearandanticipationashetrailedhiskisseslower,flippingupthehemofmyskirttorevealmywhitelacepantiesbeneathit.
Clayfixedhiseyesonme,thentrailedonesoftfingertipdownthecenterofthefabric,thesensationsolightitwasabrutalteaseagainstmyachingclit
“Clay,”Icried,myheadfallingbackasmyeyesclosed.
“Fuck,Kitten,”hesaidnext,hisfingertipsplayingattheseamofmythong.“Youfuckinglovedthat,didn’tyou?Beingonyourkneesforme.You’resoaked.”
Heslickedafingerthroughmywetnesswiththecomment,andheatinvadedmyneckeventhoughIopenedforhimmore.IwasasashamedasIwasaroused,andthelatterwonover.
“Yes,”Iconfessed.
“Whatdidyoulike?”heteased,runningthepadofhisthumboverthefabricandbackdownagain.Itpressedtheharshlaceagainstme,aburningfrictionthatmademewrithewithneed.“DidyoulikehowItasted,howyougaggedonmycock?”
“Yes,”Ibreathed,rollingmylipstogetherasIsquirmedbeneathhistouch.“AndIlovedwhenyoucamebecauseofme.”
“Allbecauseofyou,”hevalidated,andthatmademynipplespeak,mademelightupwithprideandpower.
Clayloweredhimselfevenmore,untilhewaslyingonhisstomachwithhiselbowsproppedundermylegs.Ihadnochoicebuttosetmythighsonhisshoulders,andmykneesbentinward,becauseIwassuddenlyawarethatmywetsexwasrightinhisface.
“Don’t,”hesaid,stoppingmebeforemykneescouldtouch.HegentlytappedtheinsideofeachoneuntilIletthemfallbackopen.“Iwanttoseeyou,Kitten,”hecooed.“Iwanttotasteyou.”
Abreathofamoanfellthroughmylipsashedidjustthat,keepinghiseyesonmeasherantheflatofhistongueoverthelaceofmypanties.Hesoakedwhatevermypussyhadn’talready,wettingthefabricandusinghistonguetopressagainstitandrubasweetfrictionovermyclit.
“Oh,God,”Ibreathed,headfallingbackagainstthedomeagain.Myhandsshotoutforhishairinstinctively,butItorethemaway,reachingformysides,instead.
“Doit,”hesaid,grabbingonehandandmovingitbacktohishair.“Showmewhere.”
Myfingerscurledinthesoftstrands,andheenvelopedmewithhismouthagain,lickingfrommyseamuptomybudinahotheat.Iheldhimthereatmyclit,andhegrinnedagainstmybuckinghipsbeforeswirlinghistongueoverthelace.
Imoaned,pushingmyhipsupandtowardhim,seekingmore.
“There?”heasked,flickingthebudwiththetipofhistongue.
Inodded,wettingmylipsbeforeIdraggedmyteethoverthebottomone.
“Let’sgetthisoutoftheway,shallwe?”Claysatbackonhiselbowsjustlongenoughtotugatmypanties,andIliftedmyhips,helpinghimslidethemdownuntilhedrewthemoffonelegandthentheother.
Hepausedatmyankle,trailingupmyknee-highstockinguntilheslippedafingerbeneaththetopofit.
“Thesedrivemeinsane,youknow,”hehusked,takinghistimecrawlinghishandsbackuptowhereIreallywantedthem.“Everytimeyouwearthem,IthinkofhowmanywaysIcouldpeelthemoffyou.”
Iknewhewasfaking.IknewhewasjustgivingmethedirtytalkhecouldclearlyseeIreactedto.Butstill,Ilitupunderthosewordsasiftheywerethepuresttruth,asifIreallycouldbesexyenoughtodriveamanlikeClayJohnsontoinsanity.
Hesettledbackinbetweenmythighs,groaningwhenhehadmeopenandrightinhisface.“Damn,”hebreathed.“Suchaprettypussy.”
Heranhisfingeralongtheouteredges,tracingmylipsandthesensitiveareabetweenmyvaginaandass.Ishiveredatthetouch,andthenhishandsgrippedmythighsandpulledmeintohim.
Hiseyesfoundmine,andhelowered.
Thefirsthotsensationofhismouthenvelopingmewithoutabarrierbetweenussuckedmeunderlikearipcurrent.Iwashelplesstoeventrytoholdmycomposureashedidsomesortofcombinationofsuckingandlickingthatliterallymademykneesquakearoundhim.
Iletoutsomethingbetweenacurseandamoan,somethinglikeabreathyprayer,andClaysmiledagainstmysensitiveskin,pressingalighterkisstomybud
“Tellmewhatyoulike,”heremindedme,andthenhisfingersgrippedintomythighsasheloweredhismouthagain.
Itlitmyentirebodyonfire,watchingasheswayedhisheadgently,feelinghistongueslickingeverycentimeterofme.Heranithotandflatalongmyseambeforetighteningitintoahardtiptoflickitagainstmybud.Hedrewcirclesandlines,suckedandlicked,moanedwithahummingvibrationthatfeltlikehavingavibratorinthebestpossiblespot.
Icouldn’tspeak,couldn’ttellhimanything.Instead,myhandsweavedintohishairagain,andItightenedmygripanytimehepaidattentiontomyclit.
“Mmmm,”hehummedagainstit,andIshookaroundhim,myorgasmbuildingmoreandmorewitheverylashofhistongue.“Whataboutthis?”
Heshiftedhisweightontooneelbow,thefreehandtrailingupthelengthofmystomachtorestbetweenmybreasts.Hispalmsplayedmyribcage,andthenheroughlyshovedonecupofmybraupovermybreastandpalmedit.
Iarchedintothebrutetouch,gaspingforairasthatsensationrivaledwiththewetheatofhistonguebetweenmythighs.Hemassagedmybreastashelickedme,thensuckedmyclitwhilehisfingerstightenedovermynippleandgaveagentle,twistingtug.
“Clay!”
IcriedouthisnameandIdidn’tknowwhy.Ididn’tknowwhatIwanted.Ididn’tknowifIwasdesperateforhimtostoporifIwantedevenmore.Isquirmedbeneathhimasheheldmythighassteadyashecould,continuinghisassaultonmypussyashishandworkedonebreastandthentheother.
Thecombinationhadmeteeteringontheedgeofecstasy,butsomethingwasmissing.
“More,”Ipanted.“Ineed…more.”
“More,”Clayrepeated,andhishandtraileddownfrommybreasttobetweenmythighs.Heheldmystareasthathanddisappearedbeneathme,andthenIfeltafingertippressingagainstmyentrance.“Here?”
“Yes,”Ibegged.
Withadevilishsmirk,Clayslippedthatfingerinsideme,allatonceandtotheverycenterofme.Icriedout,butinthenextinstant,hismouthwasonmyclitagain,suckingandlickingashisfingerwithdrewandplungedinsidemeagain.
Heangledhiswristsohecouldcurlthatfingerinsideme,andasIshookandwrithedbeneathhim,headdedanother.
ItwaseverythingIwanted.Iwasfull,hisfingersstretchingmeashistonguepressedjusttherightamountofpressurewhereIneededit.Thatalongwiththesightofhimburyinghisfacebetweenmythighswastoomuchtostaycomposedunder.
“Rubyourtitsforme,Kitten,”hebreathedagainstmyskin,thebreathcoolwhereIwaswetandhot.“Strokeyourselfwithme.Comeforme.”
Ihadnochoicebuttoobey,andwhenmyfingerspluckedatmypebblednipple,Iwhimperedandmoanedandsquirmedandbuckedmyhipsagainsthismouth.Hemetmyeagerrequestformorewithanincreasedpressure,thesoundsofhimsuckingandfinger-fuckingmethelastthingthatdrovemeovertheedge.
Itumbled,spiralingasmyorgasmsoaredthroughme.Itburnedlikeicedownmyspineallthewaytomytoes,whichcurledasmylegsshooksoviolently,Clayclampedhisgriptoholdmestill.Heneverrelented,drivinghistongueintimewithhisfingersuntiltheverylastofmyorgasmspilledthroughme.
AndIcollapsed.
Everyinchofmefelllimp,mybreathserratic,heartafuckingjackhammerinmychestasClaysmiledagainstmypussy.Hesoftlykissedmybud,butitwassosensitivethatIshookwiththetouch.Hecontinuedthosesweetkissesoneveryinchofmybodyashecarefullymadehiswayuptositnexttome.
Oncehewasthere,hepulledmeintohim.
Ifeltlikethesmallestthingintheworldcradledinhisarms,mypussystillpulsingbetweenmythighsasIcurledintohim.
“Lessoncomplete,”hewhispered,kissingmyhair.
“Youaresofuckinggoodatthat.”
Hebarkedoutalaugh.“Soareyou.”
“Really?”Ipeeledbacktolookathim.“DidIdookay?”
Hissmileslipped,hiseyesskatingovermyfacebeforehespottedaroguecurlandtuckeditbehindmyear.“Youwereamazing.”
“DoIneedtogodeeper?ShouldIgetsomelessonsondeepthroatingorsomething?”
“Jesus,Kitten,areyoutryingtogetmehardagain?”
Ilaughed.“I’msurprisedIcouldevenfityouinmymouth.”
“Okayseriously,stoptalking.”
Hegrabbedhimselfunderhissweatsandadjusted,andIflushed,leaningintohischest.
“Thankyouforshowingmeallthis.”
MychestachedwithsomethingIcouldn’tquitename,likerememberingthatthat’sallhewasdoinghurtforsomereason.Iwasthankfulhewasshowingme.ItwaswhatIaskedhimfor.
Buthewassogoodatpretendingthatsometimesitfelt…
Icouldn’tevenfinishthethought.Ijustclampedmymouthshut,closingmyeyesandwillingtheanxietytoflyaway.
“Thankyoufortrustingme,”hesaid,swallowing.“Andforlettingmeescapeinyou.”
Ipeeredupathim.“I’malwayshere,”Ipromised.
AndIdidn’tmeanjustwhilewewerefake-dating,orwhenwewereputtingonashowforShawnorMaliyahorwhoeverelsewaswatching.Imeantnow,andafter…whateveritmightlooklikeafter
Afterthiswasallover,afterhehadMaliyahbackandIhad…
Again,thethoughtracedfrommebeforeIcouldfinishit,andIletoutastrangenoiseasIpeeledawayfromhimandsatup,collectingmypantiesfromwheretheyrestedbyhisfeet.
“Weneedfood,”Ideclared,standingandpullingonmythongwithoutlookingbackathim.“Andprobablyashower.”
Claychuckled,takinghistimerisingtohisfeet.Icouldseehewasstillturnedon,thebulgeinhissweatpantsgivinghimaway.Hesawmestaringatitandsmirked,butthensomethingwashedoverhim,somethingsadandoverpowering.
Ididn’tknowwhatitwas,didn’tknowwhathadhappenedtonightorwhyhewasupset.ButwhateverI’ddonetoeasethepainhadbeentemporary,becauseIwatchedinslowmotionashebecamedistantagain,thatlostlookinhiseyes.
“IthinkI’mgoingtoheadbacktothedorm,”hesaid.“Getsomesleep.”
Inodded,tryingnottoshowmydisappointment.“Okay.”
“Yougood?”
Iswallowed,thenheldoutmythumbwithasbigofasmileasIcouldmuster.“Peachy.”
Clayfrowned,likehewasn’tsureifhecouldbelieveme,andthesmilewasgettingweakerbytheminute,soIturnedandgrabbedmybagofftheground,slingingitovermyshoulder.
Iheadedforthestairs,Clayonmyheels,andwhenwemadeitdownandoutoftheobservatory,wepausedattheforkinthesidewalk—onewayleadingtohisdormoncampus,theotherpointingtowardmyapartment.
“Letmewalkyouhome.”
“No,”Iinsisted,shakingmyhead.“I’mgoingtogetfood.MaybestopbythecoffeeshoptoseeShawnplay.”
Itwasalie,abold-facedoneItriedtosealwithanexcitedsmileasifthat’sallIwantedintheworld—toseeShawnStetson.
Thetruthwasmuchdarker,muchmoreforeign,andmuchmoreterrifying.
Iwasrunningfromafeelingdemandingtobefelt,amonsterwithgruesometeethandsharpclawsIknewwouldmaimmeifIletitcatchup.
Claydidn’tletonanyemotionwhenheasked,“He’splayingtonight?”
“Yeah.Hetoldmewhenweranintoeachotheratthegame.”
“Oh.”
Inodded,adjustingmybagonmyshoulder.
“Letmeknowhowitgoes,”Clayfinallysaid.
“Iwill,”Ipromised.
Andinthemostawkwardgoodbyeever,Iofferedhimapeacesignbeforescurryingoffwiththememoryofhistonguebetweenmythighsetchedintomybrainforever.Clay
IstayedawayfromGianaallweek.
Itwaslikerefusingmyselfthepleasureofjumpingintoarefreshingspringonahotsummerday,likerestrictingmyselffromdrinkingwaterasIheavefromdehydration—butIhadtodoit.
Iwasintoodeep.
Almostaweekagonow,Gianahadtakenmetotheobservatorytogetmymindoffmymom,eventhoughshedidn’tknowthefullextentofwhathadhappened.She’dsomehowknownenoughtonotpushmewhenIsaidIcouldn’ttalkaboutit,andshe’dsomehowcaredenoughtonotleavemealone—evenwheneverysignIgaveoffwascold.
Sheknew,withoutmehavingtosayaword,thatIneededsomething.
SheknewwhatIneeded.
Andsheletmelosemyselfinher.
Ithadhauntedmeallweek,howitfelttocomeapartforher,tohavehercomeapartforme.Itwasallundertheguiseofalesson,butIknewifIwasbeinghonestwithmyself,thatwasn’twhatitwasforme.
Iwantedher.
IwantedhersobadlymychesthadagapingholeinitwheneverIwasn’twithher.
Iwasn’teventhinkingaboutMaliyahanymore,andmaybeIhadn’tbeenforawhilenow.Icouldn’tputmyfingeronwhenitchanged,whenmyfocusshifted,butIknewtheshiftwasfundamental.IkneweverytimeIwantedtoreachforGiananow,itwasn’tbecauseIgavearat’sassaboutsomeonewatchingusandreportingbacktomyex.
ItwasbecauseIwantedtotouchher,toholdher,totasteher.
Butthatwasn’twhatshewanted.
I’dstarvedmyselfofherattentionallweeklongtoremindmyself,tohammerintomythickskullthatshewantedanotherman—andIwasjustthefoolishpunkwhoagreedtohelphergethim.
No,whoseideathiswholethinghadbeen.
Frustrationbattledwithgratitudeinsidemysoulallweeklong,nomatterhowItriedtoworkthroughitintheweightroomoronthefield.Iwasconsumedbyoveranalyzingeachmomentwe’dspenttogether,wonderinghowit’dtakenmesolongtoreallyseeit,toreallyunderstandwhatIwasfeeling.
AndIdidn’tknowwhichemotionIfeltmore.
Iwasangrywithmyself,withher,withShawnandMaliyahboth.Iwasguttedbythesituation,byeventhethoughtofShawntouchingherthewayIhadbeen.
Andyet,ifthiswasit,ifthiswastheonlywayIcouldeverhaveher…Iwasthankful.
I’dtakeeverystolenmoment,everyfakekiss,everylessonshe’dletmeteachher.I’dgroundmyselfdowntosandandletherleavemebehindintheendifitmeantIgottosoakupeverythingthatshewasrightnow.
Afool,that’swhatIwas.
Afoolwhowouldn’tstopplayingthegameheknewhe’dlose.
ThecontrastbetweenGianaandMaliyahranthroughmyheadlikeaPowerPointpresentationallweek,too.Icouldn’thelpbutcomparethem,whereonewassoftandtheotherasharprazor.Maliyahgotoffonmanipulatingme,onknockingmedownapegortwo,onremindingmejusthowluckyIwastohaveher,andhoweasilyIcouldloseher—justlikeIhadlosther.Iusedtogetoffonthat,howconfidentshewas,thegamesshelovedtoplay.Itwasathrill,achase.
ButGianawastheopposite.
SheknewbeforeIevenrealizeditwasanissuethatIputothersbeforemyselfmorethanIshould,thatIletMaliyahandevenmyownfamilywalkallovermebecausethat’swhatI’vealwaysbeenexpectedtodo.SheremindedmeeverychanceshecouldthatIwasworthy,thatIwasgood,thatIwasgoingsomewhere.
MystomachrolledasIadjustedmytieinthedirtymirrorofmydormroom,knowingIwouldn’tbeabletoavoidhertonight.IthadbeenhardenoughthroughtheweektoignoretextsortellherIwasbusy,tonotlookherwayeverytimeshewasonthefieldorinthecafeteria,toadjustmyschedulesoIwasn’tinthesameplacewithherfortoolong.
Buttonightwastheteamauction.
Itwasherevent.
AndIknewit’dgutmetoseeher,tobearoundher,toevenbeinthesameroom
Itwouldkillme.
AndyetIcravedit.
Itwassickandtoxic,andIcouldn’tdiscerngoodfrombadanymore,notasIturnedtoeachsideandwatchedmyreflectioninthemirror,smoothingmyhandsovertheall-blacktuxI’drentedforthenight.IwasasmuchofamessasIhadbeenwhenI’dleftherattheobservatorylastweekasIturnedoutthelightandmademywayoutofthedorm,tellingmyroommateandteammatethatI’dmeethimatthestadium.
Ineededtowalkalone.
FallgreetedmeasIstrolledthroughcampus,ignoringthelooksIgotfromvariousgroupsofgirlsasIpassedthem.Ikeptmyhandsinmypockets,listeningtothebreezethroughthetreesandwatchingasmoreandmoreofthecolorfulleavesfelltotheground.
IwouldhavebeenlyingifItriedtotellmyself,oranyoneelse,thatmymom’ssituationwasn’taddingtomystress.I’dtalkedtohereverynight,andithadbeenthesameeverytime.ShewaswastingherdaysawaydrinkingordoingGodknewwhatelse,herwordsalwaysslurredandgarbledthroughtearswhenwespoke.
Andforthefirsttimeinmylife,InotonlyrecognizedthatIneededhelp.
Iwaspreparedtoaskforit.
Still,mychestwasonfireasIpulledmyphonefrommypocket,thumbingthroughtoDad’sname.ItappeditbeforeIcouldtalkmyselfoutofit,pausingatabenchbythecampusfountainasthelinerang.
“Son,”hegreeted,hisdeepvoicefamiliarintheachingkindofway.“Goodtohearfromyou.Readyforthebiggametomorrow?”
Ipaused,thrownoffbyhisjoy,byhowunbotheredandpeacefulhewas.He’dbeenthatwayeversinceheleftMom.
Sinceheleftus.
Awholenewlifegreetedhimontheothersideofthatdivorce,onewhereIwasn’tsureIfitanywhereanymore.HehadhiswindowofficeinAtlanta,hisgianthouseinthesuburbs,hisperfectlawnandperfectkidsandperfectwife.Outsideoffootball,wehadnothingincommon.
Hedidn’tknowasinglethingaboutme,notanymore.
“Providenceistough,”hecontinuedwhenIdidn’tanswer,mistakingmysilencefornervesaboutthegame.“Thatoffenseisquickandcrafty.Butyou’reabeast.You’llgivethemhell.Beaggressiveanddon’tgetlazyinthesecondhalf—that’swheretheytypicallydothemostdamage.”
“I’mnotworriedaboutthegame,”Ifinallysaid.
“Good.Youshouldn’tbe.You—”
“Momneedshelp.”
Iwassurprisedbythedepthofmyownvoice,byhowsteadythewordscamefrommythroat.Iknewitsurprisedmyfather,too,becausehegrewsilent,clearinghisthroatafteralongpause.
“Yourmotherisnoconcernofmineanymore.”
“Yeah,Iknow.Youleftherandyourfirstsonbehindyearsago.”
“Clay,”hewarned,likeIwasoutofline.Thatdeeprumbleofhisvoicemademepause,madethehaironthebackofmyneckstandupthewayitalwaysdidbeforeItriedsomethingrisky—likeanewplayonthefield.
“It’strueandyouknowit.Andyouknowwhat?It’sfine.Honestly,itis.I’vegoneonwithoutyou.Webothhave.”
“Withoutme?”heinterjected.“JustwhodoyouthinkhelpedpayforyoutogetouttheretocollegeinBoston?Whogotyourlaptopandyourmovingtruckand—”
“Andwhoonlycallsmeafteragame?Whohasnothingtotalktomeaboutotherthanfootball?Whoknowseverythingaboutmyhalf-brothersandabsolutelynothingaboutme?”
“Don’tberidiculous.I—”
“Nameonethingyouknowaboutmeotherthanmypositiononthefield.One.I’llwait.”
MynoseflaredasIbitbacktheurgetokeepgoing,asIfoughttobesilentenoughtoletmypointsinkin.Anditdid.Iknewitdid,becausemyfatherdidn’tsayanotherword.
“Idon’tbegrudgeyou,”Ifinallysaid,calmer.“Iloveyou.Iunderstand.IknowhowMomcanbe…alot,”Iconfessed.“AndIknowshewasn’ttherightwomanforyou.Butsheneedshelp,Dad,andIcan’tdoitonmyown.”
Heblewoutasigh.“Letmeguess—herflingoftheweekleftherandnowshe’samess.”
“Theyweredatingformonths,”Iclarified.“Butyes.Andhewastakingcareofher,andnowshehasnojobandissurvivingoffwhatlittlemoneyIcanaffordtosendhome.”
“Well,whosefaultisthat?Shedidthistoherself.”
Ishookmyhead.“Sheneverknewthiswouldbeherlife,Dad.Itwassupposedtobeyoutakingcareofher.Youknewwhenyoumetherthatshedidn’tevengraduatefromhighschool.Sheneverwantedacareer.Shewantedafamily.”Ipaused.“Shewantedyou.”
“WhatshewantedwastogaslightmeandcontrolmeandbelittlemeuntilIlostmyself,”hebarkedatme.“SomethingyoushouldknowalittlebitaboutafterdatingMaliyah,I’dimagine.”
Myjawtightened.“Don’ttalkaboutherlikeyouknowher.”
“Imightnothavebeentherethrougheverything,butIknowthatgirl.Iknowherfather.AndIknowenoughtotellyouthatyou’reamomma’sboythroughandthrough,becauseyouwereevenlookingforherinthegirlyouwantedtomarry.”Hescoffed.“ThankGodyoudodgedthatbullet.”
Somethingabouthiswordsstung,notbecausetheywereaninsult,butbecausetherewastruthinthem—truthIdidn’twanttoseeoradmitto.
“AtleastMaliyahhasafatherwhoactivelyparticipatesinherlife,”Ispatback.“Inmylife.Youknow,heflewacrossthecountrytowatchmeplay.Hewashereforthelasthomegame.Andguesswhocan’tsaythesame?”
Mynoseflared,andIignoredthepartofmybrainthatremindedmethathehadn’ttechnicallycomeforme.He’dcomeforMaliyah,andIwasjustthere.
ButDaddidn’tneedtoknowthat.
“IwishyouweremorelikeCory,”Isaid,voicelow.
Dadalmostlaughed.“Idon’twanttobeanythinglikethatman.”
“Yeah.Icantell.”
Therewasafrustratedbreathontheotherend,andIpinchedthebridgeofmynose,shakingmyhead.
“Momisbroke,”Igroundthroughmyteeth,gettingbacktothereasonIcalled.“IhavesentallthatIcan.Dad,please.I’mbeggingyou.Pleasehelpher.Justuntilshecangetbackonherfeet.”
“Sheneverwillifshegetsahandoutfrommeoryouoranyoneelse,Clay.”
Iscrubbedahandovermyface.“Unbelievable.”
“Look,youcancallmeanassholeandthinkI’mevilifthat’sthepictureyouwanttopaint.Butletmetellyouthetruth,son—sheisanaddict.Shehasbeenforyears.Shefindsamanwhocantakecareofherandgiveherallthedrugsshewantsandshe’shappy.Thesecondhe’sgone,she’sdestructive.Shedoesn’thaveitinhertoworkforherself.”
“Likehellshedoesn’t!”Iscreamed.“Sheraisedme!Sheraisedme—notyou.Shewasthere,everynight,cookingdinnerformeusingwhateverwehadinthepantryevenwhenitwasn’tmuch,allafterworkingallday—sometimesdoubleshifts.”
“Andhowdoyouthinkshehadtheenergytodothat,hmm?Whydoyouthinktherewasbarelyanyfoodinthehouse,yetshealwayshadmoneyforwhatsheneededtogetby?”
Iignoredtheinsinuation,eventhoughmythroatstungwiththepossibilitythathewasright.“You’reamonster,”Ibreathed.“You’reselfishandyoucan’tthinkofanyonebutyourself.Youneverhave.”
“Iusedtobejustlikeyou,”heshoutedoverme.“Iusedtobendoverbackwardforherandeveryoneelseinmylife.Butoneday,itwastoomuch.Ididn’twanttobethefuckingrugeveryonesteppedonanymore.Andtrustme,you’llgetthere,too.Or,atleast,Ihopeyoudo.Becauselivingalifewherewhatyouputinisn’treciprocatedisnolifeatall.”
Ishookmyhead,tuningoutmostofhislecture.“So,youwon’thelp.”Itwasn’taquestion.Itwasafact,oneIknewbeforeImadethecall.
“Itwouldn’tbehelp.Itwouldbeenabling.Andno,Iwon’tdothat.”
Iswallowedtheknivesinmythroat,noseflaring.“SowhatamIsupposedtodo?”
“Youaresupposedtoplayfootball,”hesaid,hisvoicecalmernow.“Andgetyourdegree.Dateprettygirlsandgetintotroublewithyourfriends.Beakid,forChrist’ssake.Yourmomisagrownwoman.Shecantakecareofherself.”
“Clearly.”
Hepaused,alongsighmeetingmeontheotherend.“Lifeishard,Clay.Iknowyoualreadyunderstandthat,butyou’reonlybeginningtopeelbackthelayersofjusthowharditcanbe.Yourmomwillfigureitout.Shewill.Andifshedoesn’t?Sheonlyhasherselftoblame.”
Itbaffledme,howhecouldfindreliefinthat,howhecouldsaythosewordsandbelievethemwholeheartedly.
“Idon’tknowhowyoucametobesoself-centered,butIhopeIcanneverstomachturningmybackonmyfamilythewayyouhave.”
Ihungupassoonasthewordswereoffmylips,fistingmyphonesohardthescreencrackedinmyhandsbeforeIshoveditintomypocket.
Therestofmywalkacrosscampuswasfast-paced,asheenofsweatonmyforeheadwhenIblewthroughthestadiumdoors.Iwasstillseeingred,stillfumingfromtheconversation,andIdebatedduckingintotheweightroomtohammeroutaquicksetjusttoburnoffthesteam.
ButassoonasIroundedthecornerandslippedintothehallway,Isawher.
Theentrywaytowhatwasusuallyaclubforourmostinfluentialbenefactorshadbeentransformed,lightsandmusicthumpingfrominsidewhileagiantbannerhungoverthedoubleglassdoors.Gianastoodinfrontofthem,aphotoboothbackgroundwiththeteam’slogobehindherandadozencamerasinherfaceasshespokeintothemicrophoneatthepodium.
Shewasavision,drapedinafloor-lengthdressthatglitteredlikestarlightagainstherpaleskin.Thedresswassleevelessononearmbutwrappedallthewaydowntoherwristontheother,thenecklineelegantandrefinedwhereitslantedherchest.Iknewevenwithoutherturningaroundthatitwasalowback,thesliversofherribcagevisiblefrommyviewpointgivingitaway.
Hercurlsweretamed,brushedbackintoahigh,sleekbunthattransformedherfromayoungwomanintoatimelessmoviestar.Shesmiledwithherrose-paintedlips,gray-blueeyessparklingunderthelightsofthecamerasasshespokewithconfidence,herchinlifted,shoulderssquared.
Iwasspeechless.
Iwasmesmerized
AndIwasrootedtothespotuntilthemomenthereyesflashedbehindthecameramaninfrontofherandlandedonme.
Shedismissedherselffromthemediafrenzy,pullingKyleRobbinsuptothepodiumtotakeherplace.Helaunchedintohisintervieweasily,andGianawatchedonlyforamomentbeforeslippingaway,thehemofherblackdressglidingalongthetileasshefloatedtome.
“Wow,”shebreathed,lettingoutalowwhistleashereyesranthelengthofme.“Iknewyoucouldcleanup,butIdon’tthinkI’veeverseenablacktuxlookthisgood.”
Shesmiledwiththecompliment,alllightandeasyandplayfullikewe’dalwaysbeen.Itsetmyheartonfire,butImaskeditasbestIcouldbythetimeshefoundmygazeagain,knowingthosewerefeelingsIwouldneedtoburyaliveifnecessary.
“AndIdidn’tknowslitscouldgothishigh,”Imused,archingabrowatherexposedthigh.“Noglasses?”
“Contacts,”sheansweredeasy,butthen,shefrowned.“Doesit…doIlookokay?”
“Youlook…”IbitmylipagainsteverythingIwantedtosay,landingonaquiet,“breathtaking.”
Sheblushed,steppingnexttomeandslippingherarmaroundmine.“Comeon,let’sgetyouminglingsoyoucanstealsomepoorrichwoman’smoneyandmakemelookgoodonthatauctionstage.”
“Isthatmyjobtonight?”Iasked.“Makeyoulookgood?”
“Andraisealotofmoneyforcharity,”sheadded.
Hersmileslippedabitwhenwepassedthroughtheentryway,notevenneedingtodomorethannodtothevolunteerstakingtickets.TheyknewwhoIwas.
Imarveledathowtheclubhadbeentransformed,theuplightinganddancefloor,thechampagnefountainandvariouswaiterswalkingaroundwithappetizersandhorsd’oeuvres.Everymemberoftheteamhadcleanedupfortheoccasion,andevenHoldenlookedrelaxedwherehedrankwaterasagroupofolderwomenfawnedoverhim.
“Maliyahisalreadyhere,”Gianasaidquietlywhenwemadeourwayintothespace.“Shelooksbeautiful.AndI…Ioverheardsomething.”
Ijustswallowed,lookingdownatwhereshestillclungtomyarm.
“Ithinkshereallymissesyou,Clay.Ithink…Ithinkourplanisworking.”Hereyessearchedmine.“Shetoldagroupofthecheerleadersinthebathroomthatshewantsyouback.”
Iblinkedatherrevealofinformation,waitingforittohitme,tostrikemeinthechest,tofillmeupwithhopeorthesenseofprideIfeltafterwinningagame.
ButIfeltnothing.
Twomonthsago—hell,evenonemonthago,Iwouldhaveleaptforjoy,orperhapsevencried.IwouldhaveruntoMaliyah.Iwouldhaveheldherinmyarmsandbeggedhertotakemeback,tobelieveinus,toseethefutureIhadalwaysseen.
Butnow,thatfuturewasnothingbutafoggy,distantdream—oneIcouldn’tseeclearlyanymore.
OneIhadnodesiretoeverchaseagain.
Ididn’tknowwhattosay,butItriedtopretendtobehappy,tofakelikethatwasthenewsI’dbeenwaitingfor.
“Well,”Isaid,grinningasbestIcould.“Shecaneatherheartoutwhensheseesyouonmyarmtonight.”
Gianatriedtoreturnmysmile,buttherewasabendtoherbrowsthattaintedit,andbeforeeitherofuscouldsayanythingelse,CharlotteBanksstrolleduptous.
“Giana,it’stime,”shesaid,offeringmeasmallsmilebeforeshepulledGianaoffmyarm.“We’vegotthefirstfiveteammateslinedupnexttothestageandreadytogo.”
Gianalookedoverhershoulderatmeasherbosspulledheraway.
Hereyeswereasmysteriousastheoceandepths.
Giana
FromthemomentIwaspulledawayfromClayandshovedontotheauctionstagequiteunwillingly,thenightflew.
Iblackedoutformostofit,nervesrattlingmybonesasIsomehowmanagedtostandatthepodium,tospeakloudandclear,tointroduceeachteammateandtheirdatebeforeacceptingbidsfromtheaudience.
Iwasn’tanatural.Ididn’tcrackwell-timedjokesorcharmtheroomwithmydazzlingpersonalitythewayI’dwatchedmymotherandsistersdoallmylife.ButIdidspeakclearly,withmychinheldhigh,andwithenoughconfidencetofooltheroomintothinkingthiswasn’tsoentirelyoutofmycomfortzonethatIwascertainI’dvomitthemomentIsteppedoffstage.
“Alright,ladiesandgentlemen,”Ispokeintothemicrophone,awarmsmiletouchingmylipswhenIsawwhowasnextonthelist.“Refillyourchampagneandgetthosepaddlesready,becausethisnextdateisoneyouwon’twanttolose.Pleasehelpmewelcometothestage,ClayJohnson!”
Politecheersrangoutjustliketheyhadallthroughtheauction,buttherewerealsosomewhistlesandlittlescreamsofexcitementthatpiercedthroughtheair.Biddersreallycouldn’tgowrongwithanyofthedateauctionstonight,butwheresomeoftheplayerswerewonbyaffluentolderwomeninthecommunitywhowoulddonatethemoneyforthecausewithouttakingtheactualdate,otherswerefoughtoverbyNBUstudents.Theyweren’therejustforcharity—theywerehereforahusband.
Andtheywereoutforbloodwhenitcametothetopplayers.
Clayapproachedthestagefromthestairsbehindme,hishandbrushingthesmallofmybackashepassed.Iflushed,thoughIdidn’tlookbackathim,notevenwhenchillsracedfromwherehe’dtouchedmeallthewayuptomyears.
“SafetyClayJohnsonissixfootfourandtwo-hundred-and-fifteenpoundsofpuremuscle,”Ireadfromthescript,chucklingwhentheroomechoedwithcatcalls.“He’saCaliboywithaloveforthebeachandreggaemusic.WhenweaskedhisteammateswhatwordbestdescribesClay,theyansweredeasilyandinunisonwith…”Ipaused,smilingatthewordbeforeIsaidit.“Loyal.”
IglancedbackatClaythen,lovingthehumblesmirkthatfoundhislipsasIdid.
“HisdatehasbeengraciouslydonatedbyPicnics&Posies,”Isaid,turningbacktothemicrophone.“JoinClayforaromanticpicnicinBostonCommon,completewithabottleofsparklinggrapejuice,orchampagneforthoseoldenoughtolegallydrink,aswellasacharcuterieboardandlocalpastriesfromtheNorthEnd.”
Theroomwasbuzzingwithwhisperedconversations,everyonepreparingtomaketheirbids.
“We’llstartthebiddingatone-hundreddollars.”
Paddlesshotupintotheairallovertheroom,whichmadeeveryonelaughandstartscreamingoutrandomdollaramountstheywerewillingtopaytowin.
“Fivehundred,”Ijumped,surprisedathowmanynumbersstillstayedintheair.“Athousand!”
Welostquiteafewwiththatone,buttherewerestilladozenholdingstrong.
“Fifteenhundred,”Itried,andIlaughedintruedisbeliefasIranstraightto,“Twothousand.”
Thatdroppedallbutthree.
Ibeamedattheremainingcontenders,oneIrecognizedfromtheboardofalocaladvertisingagency,onewhowassportingaZetaTauAlphajerseyandconversingwithhersistersliketheywereallthrowinginmoneyforthebid,and…
Maliyah.
Myeyescaughtonher,andhersnarrowedintoslitsbeforesheheldherpaddleevenhigher,asifIdidn’talreadyseeit.
“Twenty-fivehundred,”Isaid,thoughmyvoicewasn’tquiteasloudthistime.
TheZetapouted,lookingtohersisterswhoshooktheirheadsbeforesheletthepaddledrop.
“Three,”Isaid,notneedingtosaythethousand,andMaliyahglancedoveratthelovelyolderwomanwhomIwishedwouldwin,onlytoimmediatelyhatemyselfforwishingit.
ClaywouldwantMaliyahtotakethehighestbid.
Thisiswhatwe’dbeenworkingfor,whatwe’dbeenparadingourfakerelationshiparoundcampusformonthstoachieve.
Maliyahwantedhimback—andsheproveditwithavictorioussmileastheotherwomannoddedhercongratulationsandloweredherpaddle.
Mysandpapertonguewouldn’twork,wouldn’tswalloworletmespeakasIbangedmygavelagainstthewoodenpodium.“Sold,tonumbertwo-eighty-one,”Ifinallycroaked.
Maliyaharchedabrowatme,andIwishedIcouldhaveschooledmyexpression,thatIcouldhaverefusedherthesatisfactionofthinkingshe’dgottentome.ButIwasapale,frozenghostasIwatchedherinreturn.
AndIdidn’tevenhavetofakeit.
Claywasusheredoffstagebyoneofthevolunteers,andItoremyeyesoffMaliyahwhereshedartedthroughthecrowdtomeethimattheotherendofitasthenextplayerwasbroughtuptotakeClay’splace.
Theshowhadtogoon,andIwastheconductor.
Threemoreplayerswereauctionedbeforewetookanintermission,oneIneededsodesperatelythatIallbutsprintedfromthepodiumoncethebandbeganplayingagain.Istumbleddownthestepsofthestage,swipingabottleofwaterofferedtomeoutofsomeone’shandsbeforeIevenrecognizedwhoitwas.
“Breathe,”RileysaidwhenI’dguzzledhalfofit.
Icamebacktotheroomwithadozenblinks,onlytohavehergentlytakemebythearmandguidemeovertoalesscrowdedpartoftheroom.Shewasatotalknockoutintherednumbershe’dwornfortheoccasion,andsheofferedsmilestoeveryonewepassedalongthewayuntilshehadmetuckedbehindatableinthecorner.
“Youokay?”
“I’mgreat,”Isaid,tryingtosealthatliewithasmile.
Rileyarchedabrow.“ThatwasalowblowfromMaliyah.”
Ishrugged.“Itwasgenerous.It’sagreatdonationforawonderfulcause.”
“Cuttheshit,Giana.Shebidonherex-boyfriend.Onyourcurrentboyfriend.Andshedidittobeabitch.”Rileyshookherhead,glancingoverhershoulderatwhereMaliyahwasgatheredwiththerestofthecheerleadingsquadonthedancefloor.Theymovedtheirhipsintimewiththebeat,laughingandtossingtheirhandsupintheairwithoutacareintheworld.“I’vewatchedenoughBreakingBadthatIthinkIcouldhelpyougetridofthebody.”
Thelaughthatescapedmebroughtmyfirstrealbreathinwhatfeltlikehours,andRileyofferedmeagenuine,sympatheticsmileassheturnedbacktome.
“It’sokay,really,”Iassuredher.“Itwashardtowatch,butI’mnotthreatenedbyher.”Iswalloweddownthelie,eyesflickingtowhereMaliyahwasonthedancefloor.“Afterall,it’smehe’swith.Nother.”
Acidbubbledatthebaseofmythroat,andasifIcuedher,Maliyah’seyesslidtomine.
Asnake-likesmilecurledonherredlipsbeforesheflippedherhairoveroneshoulderandturnedbacktoherfriends,andherbodylanguagewasmuchmoreconvincingthanmywords.
Itdidn’tmatterifshebelievedwe’dbeendating,orifshethoughtClaymightactuallyhavefeelingsforme.
Sheknew,regardless,thathewashers
“Damnstraight,”Rileysaid,tossingherarmaroundmyshoulderasbestshecouldforbeingthreeinchessmallerthanme.“Now,youshouldgofindyourmanandremindherofthatfact.Oh!Nevermind,”sheaddedwithacoysmile.“Lookslikehebeatyoutoit.”
IfollowedhergazetowhereClayeasilysplitthecrowd,everyonepartingforhimashemovedpurposefullyacrossthefloorandtowardme.Hewalkedwiththeswaggerofaprofessionalathlete,thetuxheworeperfectlyfitted,eyesheatingmoreandmoreasheclosedthegapbetweenus.
“Makethattwatcryintoherpillowtonight,”Rileywhispered,kissingmycheekandreleasingmejustasClaymadeittothetable.Shegavehimaknowinglookbeforedippingbehindhim,andZekepulledherontothedancefloorbeforeshecouldmakeitmorethanafewsteps.
Whenshewasgone,myeyesslowlytraileduptomeetClay’s.
ThosegreenwellsweredarkerthanI’deverseenthem,shadowedbysomethingthatseemedtobeweighingdownoneveryinchofhimashestoodthereinfrontofme.Heswallowed,andwithoutaword,extendedhishandformine.
ItriedtoaimfornonchalantandcasualasIslippedmyhandinhis,lettinghimleadmethroughthecuriouscrowdouttothedancefloor.Wemadeitjustintimeforthebandtoslowthingsdown,softmelodiesandaharmonyofvoicessingingarenditionof“WithoutYou”byTheKidLAROI.
Claypulledmetotheverycenterofthefloor,thentuggedmeintohim,hishandsfindingmywaisteasily.Myownslippeduphischest,andhelookeddownthebridgeofhisnoseatme,hisjawtightwithwordsunspokenaswebegantosway.
JustlikeanytimeClayhadhisarmsaroundme,wegarneredattentionfromeverysetofeyesintheroom.Ifelttheheatofthemburningintothebareskinofmybackexposedbymylow-cutdress,andasifhecouldsenseit,ClaysmoothedhisthumbovertheveryspotIached.
“Youlook—”hestartedtosayatthesametimeIblurtedout,“Well,lookslikeit’sworking.”
Clayfrowned,tiltinghisheadabit.
“Withyouknowwho,”Isaid,makingaverysubtletiltofmychininthedirectionofwhereMaliyahwasnowgatheredwithhersquadonthesideofthedancefloor.Ididn’twanttosayhernamejustincaseshewaswatchingus.
AndIknewshewas.
“Wewon’thavetoputupthecharademuchlonger,”Iadded,forcingasmile,hopingthewordscameoutaslightandhappyasIwantedthemto.AndIdid.Iwantedso,sobadlytobehappyforClay,tofeelnothingbutunbridledjoyinmyheartthathe’dgottenexactlywhathewanted.
Maliyahwantedhimback.
AndI’dhelpedhimgetherback.
Itshouldhavefilledmewithpride,thekindyougetonlyafterbeingagreatfriendtosomeoneyoulove.Instead,itsouredmygut,andIdroppedmyheadtoClay’schesttoavoidlookingathimanylongerforfearI’dcrackandrevealthetruth.
Whichwas…what,exactly?
IfeltClay’shandstightenwheretheyheldme,felthisheartpickupspeedinhischestwheremyearwaspressedagainstit.Hestoppedswaying,pullingbackuntilhishandswereframingmyarmsandhiseyeswerepinnedonmine.
“Giana,I—”
Butbeforehecouldspeakanotherword,thebandstoppedplaying,applauserangoutsolouditdrownedouttherestofwhathewasgoingtosay,andwithinseconds,Charlottewasspeakingintothemicthatitwastimeforbiddingtobeginagain.
“Meetmeatmyplaceafter,”Ibreathed.
AndthenIreluctantlyslippedoutofhisgrasp.Clay
ItwascoldandwindyasIwaitedonthestepsoutsideGiana’sbuildingaftertheauction.I’ddippedoutlongbeforetheeventactuallyended,unabletostandthecharadeorMaliyah’snot-so-subtlegazesacrosstheroomforanylongerthanIalreadyhad.
Can’twaitforourdate,she’dsaidseductivelyafterI’dwalkedoffthestage.Istillfeltthechillfromherfingernaildraggingdownthelengthofmyarm,couldstillseethepromiseinhereyes.
Ithadworked.
JustlikeIknewitwould,seeingmewithGianahaddrivenhermad,hadmadeherrealizethatshestillwantedme.
Butnow…
Thesoftsoundofheelsclickingonthedarksidewalkbroughtmeoutofmyhaze,andIjumpedtomyfeetjustasGianametmeatthebottomofthestairs.Shelookedfrazzled,herhairfallingfromthebunshe’dfixeditinthankstothewind,andhermakeupwasabitsmeared,thenighttoolongandinvolvedforittosurviveunscathed.
Withoutaword,sheslippedpastme,unlockingthedoortoherbuildingandholdingitopenformetopassthroughfirst.Wewalkedsilentlyupthestairstoherapartment,andoncewewereinside,shewasonme.
Iwasjustabouttotuckmyhandsintomypocketswhenshedroppedherkeysandherpurse,barelypeelingoffhercoatbeforeshelaunchedherselfatme,hermouthonmineinpuredesperationandneed.
Icaughtherwithsurprise,butalsowithagroanthatechoeddeepinmychestasshepressedeveryinchofhersupplebodyagainstmeinthatdangerous,thindressshewore.
“Tonight,”shewhisperedagainstmymouthbeforeclaimingitinanotherneedykiss.“Iwantyoutodoittonight.”
Myeyesshotopen,butIcouldn’trespond,notwhenshewaskissingmewithfervor,backingmeuptowardherbedroomwhilekickingoutofherheelsontheway.Everymuscleinmybodytensed,heartgallopingandmindracingalongsideit
Tonight.
Shewantedmetotakehervirginitytonight
“Giana,”Itried,butsheslammedhermouthontominebeforeIcouldfinishthesentence.
“Please,Clay,”shebegged.“Ineedyou.”
Iclosedmyeyesatherwords,athowtheylitmeupfromtheinside,howeverymoleculethatmadeupwhoIwasbeamedatthetruthIknewshesaidthemwith
Sheslippedoutofmyarms,steppingbackwithonlythelightfromthelamponherbedsidetableilluminatingher.Withonegentlepullofazipperliningherside,thedressgaped,andsheslippeditoffhershoulder,lettingitfalltoasparklingpoolatherfeet.
Shewascompletelybarebeneathit.
“JesusChrist,Kitten,”Igroaned,swallowingasIsteppedintoher.Ireachedouttobrushagainstherribcagewiththebackofmyknuckles,lovinghowshepeakedandarchedlikeshewantedmore.“You’resofuckingperfect.”
HerbreathcaughtasIdraggedmyknucklesuphigher,overtheswellofherbreastanduptotracehercollarbonebeforemypalmflattenedagainstherchest.Ibackedherupwithsmall,calculatedsteps,thebeastinsidemetakingoveruntilIhadherflushagainstthewall.
“Areyoualreadywetforme?”Iaskedagainsttheshellofherear,palmslidinguptowraparoundherthroat.
Gianapressedintothetouch,likeshewantedmetogripherharder,tochokethelifeoutofherassheansweredonabreath.“Yes.”
“Showme,”Irasped.
Herhanddippedbetweenherthighs,andthensheheldhershiny,wetfingersupinevidence.
Then,tobothoursurprise,shepressedthosefingertipsagainstmybottomlip.
Isuckedherfingersintomymouthwithoutquestion,tastingherarousalwhichfiredupmyown.HermoanwhenIsuckedherdigitshadmycockachingforrelief,andIsqueezedherthroatwhereIheldher,givingherthepressureshewanted.
Then,shewaspure,beautifulchaos.
Herhandsblindlyrippedatmytux,pullingatmybowtiebeforeshetoreatthelapelsandwrangledthejacketoffme.Ireleasedmygriponherlongenoughtoletherstripme,watchingwithproudamusementassheunfastenedeverybuttonofmywhitedressshirtbeforeslidingitovermyshouldersanddownthelengthofeacharm.Sheleftthembunchedatmywristsbehindmelikehandcuffsasherhandsmovedtomybelt.
Shewaslesssteadythen,herbreathscomingharderasshestruggledwiththemetalandleatherbeforefinallyfreeingtherestraint.Andwhenshepressedupontohertoestokissmeasherfingertipspushedthebuttonofmypantsthroughtheslitandshepeeledthezipperdown,itshockedmelikeaTaser.
Ifroze.
Ipanicked.
AndItamedtheanimalinsidemelongenoughtorememberallthereasonsthiscouldn’thappen.
“Giana,wait,”Imanagedonabreath,strugglingtogetmyshirtbackovermyshoulderssoIcouldstopher.Myhandswrappedaroundherwrists,andIheldherthere,pinnedagainstthewallwithherlaboredbreathsmeetingmineinthedarkspacebetweenus.
“I’mokay.I’mready,”sheassuredme,evenassheshook,evenasherheartbeatloudenoughforusbothtohear.
Andmaybeshewastellingthetruth.
Maybeshewasready.
ButIwasn’t.
Idroppedmyforeheadtohers,swallowingpastthefierybreaththatexpelledfrommenext.“I…Ican’t,”Icroaked.“Notlikethis.”
Giana’sbreathscameharderandharderuntiltheycaughtonaninhale,onesheheldashereyesslowlycrawleduptomine.
Ididn’tknowhowtotellher.Ididn’tknowhowtoformtherightwordstoexplainthatIdidn’twanttotakehervirginityforthepurposeofherhavingsexwithanotherman,thatIcouldn’tbeartoshowherhowtofindpleasure,onlytoknowitwouldbeShawnshereallycraveditfrom.Itkilledmetoadmitit,andIwantedsobadlytopushallmyfuckingfeelingsasidetogiveherwhatsheneededinthatmoment.
ButIcouldn’t.
“Oh,”shefinallyanswered.
Andthensheshutdown.
Shepulledawayfrommygrasp,slippingundermyarmthatpinnedheragainstthewallandbendingforherdress.Shehaphazardlybroughtituptocoverherselfasshestaredatthefloor.“I…um…Iunderstand.”
Iswallowed,heartbreakingatthesightofher,athowIknewshefeltrejectedwhenthatwasthefurthestthingfrommymind.
Tellher.Tellhersomething,anything
Ibeggedmyself,butIwasfrozen,standingthereinherbedroomhalf-naked,wonderingifI’dlostmydamnmind.
Afteralongpause,Ibenttoretrievemyjacket,shruggingitonovermyopendressshirtbeforeIfastenedmypantsandredidthebelt.IstoodthereamomentlongeronceIwashalf-dressedagain,watchingGianaandbreakingwitheverysecondthatIdid.
Iapproachedherslowly,slidingmyhandagainsthercheekuntilsheclosedhereyesandletoutalongexhale.
“I’mnotbreakingmypromise,”Itoldher,waitinguntilhereyesopenedagainandfoundmine.
AndIbelievedit.IbelievedintheverycenterofwhoIwasthatIstillwouldtakehervirginityandshowherthemapofeverywaytoachievepleasureinbed.
ButIwouldn’tdoitundertheguiseofitbeingfake.
Ineededtoclearmyhead,tosiftthrougheveryfucked-upthoughtandemotionthathadbeenhauntingmeallweeksoIcouldtellherwhatIwasfeeling.
Andthen,Ihadtoprayitwasn’tone-sided.
Pressingasoftkissagainsthertemple,Ireleasedher,boltingforherfrontdoorbeforethebeastinsidemecouldoverturnmycontrol.
Andonmywalkhome,Istartedmakingaplan.Giana
“How’smylittlemouse?”
Itwasridiculous,howthosefourwordsfrommyfathernearlymademeburstintotears.TheyfilledmyeyeswithoutwarningasIwalkedacrosscampustwodayslater,tuckingmycoatmorearoundmetoshieldfromthebrutalwind.
“I’mgood,Dad,”Ilied,butcouldn’tstopmyselffromsniffingtokeepthetearsatbay,aswellasthesnotrunningfromthesuddenonslaughtofemotions.
“Mmm,”heresponded,andwebothknewhewaswellawarethatIwasnotokay.“DidyouhearthatLauraisreceivinganawardfortheresearchshedidlastsemester?”
“Really?”Instantly,myemotionsstabled—whichwaslikelywhyDadhadchangedthesubject.HeknewwhenIwantedtotalkandwhenIwantedtohermit.“That’sincredible.”
“YourmotherandIaregoingtovisitfortheceremonynextmonth.Ithoughtmaybewecouldcomevisityou,too.It’swhenyouhaveahomegameagainsttheHawks.We’dlovetoseeyouinactionoutthereonthefield.”
IletoutabitofalaughonmynextbreathbecauseheandIbothknewthatitwasI,notwe,thatbelongedinthatsentence.
“YouknowIdon’tsuitupandplayfootball,right?”
“AndyouknowthatIseeyouworkinghardonthesidelineseverygame,right?”
Istoppedmid-stride,emotionstranglingmeonceagain.“Youdo?”
“Ofcourse,Ido,mylittlemouse.AndIwatchedeveryinterviewyoudidfortheauctionFridaynight,too.You’reverywell-spoken,younglady.Iwashighlyimpressed.”
ThecomplimentmixedwiththeprideIheardinhisvoicemademesmile,butitslippedquicklywhenIrememberedtheauctionI’dbeentryingtoforget.Yesterdaywaseasy.Itwasgameday,fullofreportersandwranglingtheteam.ButtodaywasSunday,adayofrest,adaywhereIdidn’thaveclassoranythingwiththeteamtokeepmebusy.
AndsoIwasdrowninginmythoughts.
Clayhadrejectedme.
Therewasnowaytosugarcoatit,toexplainitormakeanexcuseforthewayhe’dwalkedawayfrommewhenIwasliterallystrippedbareforhim.ItwasthemostvulnerableI’deverbeenwithhim,withanyone,andhe’dturnedmedown.
Asmuchasmystomachcurledinonitselfwiththatfeelingofdismissal,anotheremotionbattledwithit,onethatremindedmeofthedesperationwithwhichI’dlaunchedmyselfatClaywithoutwarning.Ihadn’ttoldhimthatwasthenight,hadn’tpreparedhimforanything.
ButthatwasexactlywhatI’dfelt—desperation.
Iwaslosinghim,losingus,andsoItriedtoclingtohimevenasMaliyahslippedherarmsaroundhimandpulledhimfromme.Ofcourse,hewouldn’twanttohavesexwithmewhenMaliyahliterallypaidthousandsofdollarstoproveshewantedhimbacknow.
Thiswaswhatwasalwayssupposedtohappen.
Andyetnowthatitwas,Iwasthrashing.
“Savemeafather-daughterdinnerwhenwecome?”Dadasked,breakingthesilenceI’dlefthimwith.
Iletoutaslowexhale.“I’dlovethat.”
“Me,too.Untilthen,promisemeyou’lltakecareofyourself?”
“Promise,”Imanaged,thoughmyvoicewasweak.
“Iloveyou,Giana.Remembereverythingistemporary.”
Thosewords,thoughwell-intentioned,mademynosestingwithanotherwaveofnausea.HemeanttoassuremethatnomatterwhatIwasgoingthrough,itwouldn’tlastforever,thateverythingwouldeventuallybeokay.
Butheonlyremindedmeofwhatwascausingthepaininthefirstplace.
Everythingistemporary
Firstandforemost,whateverrelationshipIhadwithClay.
“Loveyou,Dad,”Iwhispered,andthenIpulledoutmyphone,endingthecallandtuggingmyearbudsoutofmyears.Ituckedthembackintomypocketalongwithmyphonebeforeheavingmyselfontothenearestbench,onethatoverlookedasmallpondoncampus.
Thebitterwindsweptovermyalready-chilledface,makingmyeyeswaterasahundredmorecolorfulleavesweresweptfromtreelimbsandblownacrossthepark.Itwasquietoncampus,betweenitbeingaweekenddayandthefreezingtemperature,moststudentswereintheirdormsrestingorboozingitupinoneofthemanyfavoritebrunchplaces.
Hearingfrommydadshouldhavebroughtmepeaceandcomfort,butitsomehowdidtheopposite.IfoundmyselfwishingI’dtakenthetimetomakemorefriendswhenImovedtoNBU,thatIhadn’tspentallmytimeeitherwithmybooksormyinternship.IthoughtaboutcallingRiley,butknewshe’dbespendingthedayafteragamewincelebratingorrestingwithZeke—assheshould.
TheonepersonIwantedtocall,tobewith,hadn’ttalkedtomesincehewalkedoutofmyapartmentafterIthrewmyselfathim.
Iwasalone.
SoaloneIfeltlikeIdidn’texist.
“Well,there’saprettyfaceIhaven’tseeninfartoolong.”
Iblinkedoutofmyhaze,lookinguptofindShawnstrollingtowardme.Heworeadark,forestgreenpeacoatandapecanbrownscarfwrappedaroundhisneck.Hisnosewaspink,breathcominginlittlewhitepuffsfromhislipsashetooktheseatnexttome.
Rightnexttome.
Hisbodyheatenvelopedmeashisthighpressedagainstmine.“It’sfuckingbrutaloutheretoday,eh?”Heshookhishead,lookingoverthepondbeforehiseyesflasheddowntowheremyhandswereclaspedinmylap.“Jesus,youdon’thavegloveson?”
BeforeIcouldrespond—toanyofhisgreetings—hepulledhisglove-coveredhandsfromhispocketsandreachedforme,pullingmyhandsintohis.
Hesmoothedthewarmfabricovermyicydigits,andthen,carefully,hepulledmyhandsuptowardhismouth,blowinghotbreathonthembeforeherubbedthembetweenhispalmsoncemore.
AndImusthavebeenabouttostartmyperiodbecausemyeyesfloodedwithtearswhenhedid.
“Hey,”hesaid,frowning,hisgriptighteningonmyhands.“What’swrong?”
Ishookmyhead,pullingmybottomlipbetweenmyteethinanattempttokeepmyshittogetherasIstareddownatourhands,visionblurringandfoggingupmyglasses.Justafewweeksago,Iwouldhavehadastomachfullofbutterfliesseeingthat,feelinghimholdingmeinsuchanintimatemanner.
Butnow,allIcoulddowasthinkofanotherpairofhands,largerandrougherandsofamiliarwithmenowthattheyfeltlikemyown.
“Comehere,”ShawnsaidwhenIdidn’tanswer,andhetuckedmeunderhisarm,wrappingmeinawarmembraceandshieldingmefromthewind.Hewasquietforalongwhilebeforehefinallyasked,“It’sClay,isn’tit?”
Iburiedmyfaceinhischestmore,heartsqueezingjustfromthesoundofhisname.
Shawnletoutalong,slowbreath,andforthelongesttime,hejustheldme,hishandssmoothingovermyarmstowarmmethroughmyjacketthatwasdoingapoorjob.Afterawhile,hegentlypulledback,stillholdingmebutwaitinguntilIliftedmygazetomeethis.
“Ihatetoleaveyoulikethis,butI’mplayingatthecoffeeshop.Mysetstartsintwentyminutes.Doyouwanttocome?”
Ishookmyheadimmediately,butcouldn’tfindthewordtotellhimIwasn’tupforanythingrightnow,leastofallacrowdedcafé.
Henoddedinunderstanding.“Look,Idon’twanttooverstep,Giana,but…doyouthink…”Hepaused,swallowing.“CouldwemaybehangoutFridaynight?”
Iblanched.“What?”
“IsthatallIhadtodotogetyoutospeak?Askyouonadate?”Shawnsmirked.
Icouldn’thelpthegenuinechucklethatleftmethen,andIwipedthewristofmyjacketagainstmynose.“Ihaveaboyfriend,”Iremindedhim,thoughmyconvictionwasweak.
“Tobehonest?”ShawndippedhisgazeuntilIwaslookingathimagain.“Idon’tcare.Notwhenhetreatsyoulikethis.”
Mybrowsbentinward,heartsqueezinginmychestattheinsinuationthatClaytreatedmeanywaybutwithrespect.Butthiswasthepicturewe’dpaintedforShawn,thatClaywasacockyathlete,thatheneglectedme,thatIcouldn’tseethatIdeservedbetter.
Thishadbeentheplanforme
Whilewe’dplayedthegametogetMaliyahbackinhislife,we’dalsoweavedtheperfectstorytogetShawninmine.
Andbothhadworked.
ThiswaswhatI’dwanted.ThiswaswhatClayhadofferedtohelpwith,whatI’daskedhimtopreparemeforinmorewaysthanheoriginallysignedupfor.
ShawnStetsonwasaskingmeout.
Sowhywasmythroatshuttingdownatthethoughtofsayingyes?
“Hey,I’llbehave,”hepromised,smilingwhenhesawtheworryinmyeyes.“Justfriends.Wecanhangoutasjustfriends,right?”
Iletoutalongbreath.“Idon’tseewhynot.”
Hissmilewidened.“Great.IactuallyhaveaFridaynightwithoutagigforonce.Whatdoyousaywekeepitlowkey…youcomeovertomyplace?Wecantalk,gettoknoweachother,maybewatchamovie?”
Mycheekswarmedwiththatlastpart,becauseweallknewwhatwatchamoviemeantincollege.
ButthiswaswhatI’dbeenplanningfor,whatIsopainstakinglywishedfor.Evennow,thethoughtofShawnleaningintoclosewhatlittledistancewasstillbetweenus,theideaofhimkissingme?Itwasintoxicating.
MaybeIwasjustreadingtoomuchintoeverythingwithClay.MaybeI’dletmyfeelingsgetcaughtupinsomethingwebothagreedtokeepfeelingsoutof.
Everythingwe’ddone,itwasallfake.
Thepublicappearances,thehandholding,thekissing,eventhenightshe’dshownmehowtopleasemyself,howtopleasehim…ithadallbeenaruse.
ClayhadMaliyahnow.He’dprovenFridaynightwhenhe’dwalkedawayfrommethatthatwaswhathewanted.
Hewasn’tcaughtupinfeelingsforme.
Iwasafooltostaytangledupinmineforhim.
“I’dlovethat,”Ifinallyanswered,holdingmychinhigher.“Ireallywould.”
Andjustlikethat,IhadadatewithShawnStetson.
Clay
IlookedlikeanabsoluteidiotasIwalkedacrosscampus,thebouquetofflowersinmyhandblowingprecariouslyinthewind.Moreandmorepetalsblewoffandjoinedthedecayingleavesrapidlycoveringthegrass,andtryasIdid,Icouldn’tshieldthemenoughtosavethem.
“Giana,IknowIdon’tdeserveit,butIwanttoexplainwhyIleftFridaynight,”Imumbledtomyself,recitingthewordsI’dplannedoutinmyhead.“Itwasn’tbecauseIdidn’twantyou.Trustme,”Ibreathed.“IwantedyousofuckingbadlyIcouldbarelybreathewhenIleft.”
Mycheststungwiththat,thememoryofleavingher,ofherwideeyesandquiveringlipwhenIturnedmybackandwalkedoutofherapartment.Itwasn’tmybrightestmove,butthenagain,IknewifIstayed,Iwouldhavetakenher.Iwouldn’thavebeenabletoresisther,notwithherbarebeforemeandbeggingmetohavemyway.
Ithadhitmelikeasledgehammertothehead,myfeelingsforGiana,andithadtakenmeallweekendtountanglethem.
Yesterday,footballwasmyfocus.Ithadtobe.Asastudentathleteonscholarship,Ihadonejobtodo,andforthehoursthatstretchedbeforethegameuntilIwasshoweringafterthegamelastnight,thatwaswheremyheadwas.Wesecuredanotherwin,steeringuscloserandclosertoanotherbowlgame.
Thisyear,wewantedthebowlgame,theonethatwouldleadustothechampionship.
Ifitwaspossible,wewereonfireevenmoresothanlastseason.We’dhadalotofnewblood,myselfincluded,andhadtolearnhoweachotherworked,howtojell.Thisseason,wewerebecomingmoreandmorecomfortable,runningplayslikeweknewthembetterthanthebackofourhands.
Itwasallfallingintoplace.
Butthesecondthegamewasover,mymindshiftedgears,andallthoughtswerewrappedupinGiana.
OrshouldIsay,ninetypercentofthem—theothertenwerereservedforMom,especiallywhenIappliedforastudentloanlatelastnight.Ithadn’tbeensomethingI’dneededupuntilthispoint.Myscholarshipcoveredmytuition,books,dorm,andfees,andevengavemeenoughtoliveon—especiallyconsideringmostofmymealswereatthestadium.
ButIhaddrainedmysavingshelpingMompaybillsandgetby,andrentwasduenextweek.
Itwasasmallloan,oneIhopedIcouldpayoffeasilyonceIwasdraftedwithasigningbonus.Still,myribcageachedwhenIhitthesubmitbutton,whenIgottheautomaticapprovalandrealizedIwasindebtforthefirsttimeinmylife.
Itwassoeasytodo,andnow,Iunderstoodwhysomanypeoplewerecrushedbeneaththeweightofit.
“Don’tworry,”I’dtoldMomaftertheloanwassecured.“Iwilltakecareofyou.”
“Youalwayshave,”washerresponse.
Istillwasn’tovermyangerwithmyfather,either.Icouldn’tunderstandhowhecouldsoeasilyturnhisbackonhisfamilywhenweneededhim.
Butthenagain,weweren’thisfamily—nothisprimaryone,anyway.Wewereapastlife,oneheclearlywantedtoleavebehind.
Isniffedagainstthefiercewind,acoolresolvesinkingovermealongwithit.Wedidn’tneedhim.Wewouldbejustfine.
Ithadbeenatornadoofemotionsoverthelastweek,especiallyoverthelastseventy-twohours,andIcouldn’tcontainthehopethatbubbledinmyheartatthethoughtoftellingGianahowIfeltaboutherandhavingherreciprocateit.
Icouldseeitalready,hereyeswateringasIpulledherintome.Icouldfeelherlipsonmine,herbodymeltingasIheldher,couldtastehertongueandhearthesweetmoansshesavedonlyforme.
ButtherewasanigglingfearticklingatmystomachasIapproachedherbuilding,becauseIknewtheotherwaythiscouldgo,too.
ThetruthwasIdidn’tknowwhereherheadwasat,whereherheartwasat.
Andtheonlywaytofindoutwastoputmyownontheline.
Iliftedmyhandtoringthebuzzerforherapartment,butbeforeIcould,Iheardmynamebehindme.
“Clay?”
Iturned,findingGianashiveringinajacketIknewcouldn’tbekeepingherwarminthiscoldfrontthathadsweptinoverthecity.
Hereyesweredark,underlinedwithadeeppurplethattoldmeshehadn’tslept,herfaceredandblotchylikeshe’dbeencrying.Ormaybeitwasjustthewind.Eitherway,shelookedhowIfelt—emotionallydrained.
Sheblinkedatme,thenatwhatwasleftoftheflowersinmyhand.Sheswallowedwhenshesawthem,thenheldherchinhigher,andIsworeIsawhersliponamaskofindifferencerightinfrontofme.
“IwasjustabouttotextyouonceIgothome,”shesaid,plasteringonasmileassheshimmiedpastmeandunlockedthedoor.Webothusheredinside,thewarmthwelcomeafterbeingintheblisteringwind.“You’renevergoingtobelievewhathappened.”
Ifollowedherupthestairstoherapartmentasshepeeledoffherscarfandcoat,andmyhearthammeredharderandharderinmychestwitheverystepknowingthewordsIwouldsayoncewewereinsideherapartment.
“So,Iwaswalkingaroundcampus,just…”Shepaused,eyeingmeoverhershoulderbeforeshehitthetopstairandunlockedherapartmentdoor.“Enjoyingtheweather,”shefinallysaid.“AndwhodoIruninto?”
Shepushedthedooropen,slippinginfirstbeforeIfollowedandshutthedoorbehindus.
“Shawn.”
Shewhippedaroundasshesaidthename,herturquoiseeyescatchingminejustasherrosycheeksliftedwiththewidespreadofherlips.
Thatbloomingsmileformedaknotinmythroat,oneIcouldn’tswallowpastasGianahunguphercoatandscarfbeforereachingfortheflowersinmyhand.
“Oh,yeah,I…Igottheseforyou,”Isaidlamely,cringingabitwhenshetookthemandsurveyedthebrokenstemsandraggedpetalsstillholdingon.“Theylookedalotbetterbeforemywalk.”
Gianasmiled,thoughitwasweak,aflashofsomethinginhereyesasshelookedattheflowers,thenatme,thenturnedforherkitchen.Shepulledasmallvasefromunderthesinkandbegansnippingtheflowerstemsandarrangingtheonesthathadsurvived.
“Anyway,sowetalkedabitand…”Shebitherlip,doingalittlebouncewhenshelookedupatmeagain.“Heaskedmeonadate!”
Ragesimmeredinmychest.“Hewhat?”
“Iknow,right?!”Gianamistookmyquestionforpleasantsurpriseratherthantheangerthatitwas.“It’scrazy.Youreallyknowwhatyou’redoing,”sheaddedwithawink.
“Thatmotherfuckeraskedyouonadatewhenyouhaveaboyfriend?”
“Well,technicallyhejustaskedtohangout.Asfriends,”shesaidwithaknowinggrin.“Towatchamovie.”
Myhandscurledintofistsatmyside,andIgrittedmyteethtogethertokeepfromroaringatthebastard’saudacity.“Whatadisrespectfulcreep.”
Gianarolledhereyes,levelinghergazeatmebeforeshesnippedthestemofanorangedaisy-lookingflowerandploppeditintothevase.“Oh,comeon,thisiswhatwe’vebeengoadinghimtodothiswholetime.Remember?Itwasyourideatoplaythepartofneglectfulboyfriend.”
Shesaidthewordssoplayfully,likenothinghadhappenedbetweenusFridaynight,likeeverythingwascompletelynormalandwewerestillfakingarelationship.
Likewewerenothingbutfriends
“Ijustcan’tbelieveitworked,”shealmostwhispered,shakingherheadwithadazedsmileasshefinishedthelastoftheflowers.Sheshookherheadthen.“Anyway,Ineedyourhelp.WhatdoIwear?AndwhatdoIdo?Imean,webothknowwhatwatchamoviemeans.”
Shewaggledherbrowswiththat,turningtopressontohertiptoesandreachforsomethingontopofherfridgejustbeforemyfurymadeanappearance.Itriedmybesttoschoolitbeforesheturnedaround,teakettleinherhand.
“Wantsome?”sheasked.
IthinkInodded.OrmaybeIshookmyhead.Icouldn’tbesure,becauseIwasroundingintothekitchenwithonethingonmymind.“So,wait,you’rejustgoingtogoovertohisplaceandhangout?”
“Yes.”
Iblinked.“Yourealizewhatthatmeans,right?”
“Yes,”shesaidonagrin,almostlikeshewasexhausted.“That’swhatIwastryingtosay.Imean…whatifhewantsto…youknow.”
Icouldn’tfuckingbreathe.
“Youdon’thavetomovefast.”
“WhatifIwantto?”
Thewordsshotfromherlips,allsmilesgoneasshepursedthemandleanedahipagainstthestove.Shefoldedherarmsoverherchest,liftingherchinabitasIstaredbackather.
“I’mready,”shesaid.“I’vebeenready.Iwantit.”
Myeyelidsflutteredathearingthosewordsfromher,desperationsurgingoverme.
“Iwanttoknowwhatitfeelslike,whatallofitfeelslike,”shewhispered,hereyesfallingtorestsomewhereonthegroundbetweenus.Shesmiled,dazed,andthenlookedatmeagain.“Especiallyafterthepreviewsyou’vegivenme.”
Shesaiditasajoke,evenpunctuatingitwithalittlelaughasshetookthekettletothesinkandfilleditwithwaterbeforesettingitonthestovetopandflickingontheburner.
“Ijustneedtoknowwhattowear.Imean,Iwanttobecasual,comfortable,butalsocute.Like,Iknowwhattoweartoadinnerdate,butwhatdoyouwearwhenyou’rejustgoingtosomeone’sdorm?”
Shebitherlip,andthenrambledon,somethingaboutmaybeshecouldwearhergrayjoggersandatanktop,somethingthatwouldshowhercleavage.OrmaybeImadethatpartup.MaybeIwasdrivingmyselfmadwithmyworstnightmare,withimaginingShawnpeelingthosesweatpantsoffherthewayIhadthefirstnightshe’dletmetouchher.
Iblackedoutasshecontinuedtalking,notregisteringawordofit.Myentireplanblewupinanuclearfashionrightbeforemyeyes.
Iwastoolate.
I’dmissedmyoneshottotellherhowIfelt.
Justtwonightsago,shewasnakedandclingingtome,kissingmedesperately,beggingforme.
Now,IknewI’dnevertouchheragain.
Shawnhadseenhisopportunity,andhe’dmadehismove.
Thenagain,ifshe’dsowillinglyagreed,didIreallyeverhaveashotwithherinthefirstplace?Wasitallreallyfaketoher,voidoffeelings?
WasIjustafriendinhereyes?
Thoughtafterthoughtpummeledmelikerelentlesswavescrashingagainstajaggedshorelineuntilitwastoomuchtobeartheweightof.Betweenmyfather,mymother,Maliyah,andnowthis?Icouldn’tswimanymore.Icouldn’tfighttokeepmyheadabovewater.
So,Itookonelastbreath,onelastlonginglookatGianaasshelituptalkingaboutwhatherdatewouldbelikewithanotherman.
Then,Iletmyselfsinkdowntothebottom,andIsatthere,visionblurringthroughthesaltywater,slowlydrowning,butnotstrugglingtosavemyself.
Thiswholethinghadbeenmyplan,myidea.
Andnow,IhadnochoicebuttolieinthewaterybedI’dmade.Giana
Theweekdraggedbylikedeadweightinquicksand,eachdayseemingtolastlongerthantheonebeforeit.
EventhoughIfeltlikeI’dextendedanolivebranchandclearedtheawkwardairbetweenmeandClayafterthewholesorryIwalkedoutonyounaked,herearesomeflowersdebacle,hewasstillactingweird.Ormaybehewasjustfocusedontheupcominggameagainstthenumbertwoseedinourconference.OrmaybehewasspendingallhistimewithMaliyah.Ihadnowayofknowing,becauseotherthanhimstoppingbymyapartmentonSunday,Ihadn’theardfromhim.
Ididn’tknowwhatweweredoing,didn’tknowifwewerejustlettingthefakethingbetweenusslowlyfizzleout,orifwewereunintentionallyplantingseedsforourfakebreakup.Rileyaskedmeaboutwhatwasgoingonhalfwaythroughtheweek,butIjustshrugged,toldherthingswerefineandtriedtosealtheliewithaconvincingsmile.
Meanwhile,Shawnhadbeenblowingupmyphone,textingmefirstthinginthemorningandwellintothenight.Hetextedmefunnymemes,interestingnewsarticles,songsthathewantedtoknowifI’dheardbefore,andevenpicturesofhimthroughoutvarioussectionsofhisday.Theonlytimehisnamewasn’tonmyphonescreenwaswhenhewasinclassoratagig,andImarveledathowI’dgonefrombeinginvisibletohim,tofeelinglikeIwasthecenterofhisattention.
AndIlikedit.
Ilikedthathewasthinkingofme,andthathewasmakinganefforttoletmeknowthathewas.Ilikedthathecalledmethingslikebeautifulandsaidgoodmorning,gorgeouseverysingleday.
Still,somethingwasoff,somethingdeepinsidemethatIcouldn’tputmyfingeron—notdirectly,anyway.
Iwasinabookfunk,unabletoreadmorethanapageortwobeforeI’dhuffandclosethebook,shelvingitinanattempttotryanotherone.Evenmytriedandtruefavoritestore-readweren’tdoingthetrick,andsoIspentwhatevertimeIwasn’tinclassoratthestadiumlyingonmybedandstaringupatmyceiling.
Italkedtomysistersandbrothersonagroupsiblingvideocall,listeningtothemcatchmeupontheirlivesasIwassilentasusual.OnlyLauraaskedmehowmyjobwas,onetime,andafterashortbutsatisfyinganswerforthem,theconversationshiftedbacktoourbrothers’currentbusinessventure.
Eventually,Fridaycame,andthoughtheyweren’tthefamiliaronesIrememberedwhenIwastryingtopickoutanoutfitforthatnightClaytookmetoseeShawnplaydowntown,IstillhadbutterfliesasIdressedinmyjoggersandatanktop.IstyledmyhairtomakeitlooklikeIhadn’ttried,applyinglightmakeupandthrowingonanoversizedhoodiebeforeIwalkedthefewblockstoShawn’splace.
HelivedalittleoffcampusjustlikeIdid,thoughhisbuildingwasnewer,withalobbythathadatwenty-four-sevenattendantatthedesk.ShecalledShawnwhenIarrived,gettinghisapprovalbeforelettingmeintothebankofelevatorsandpushingthenumberforhisfloor.
Mystomachtwistedasthenumberstickedhigherandhigher,andthenIsteppedoutintothehallway,immediatelyseeingShawnstandinginhisopendoorwayattheendofit.
Thosestrangebutterfliesflutteredintoatizzyatthesightofhim.
Heleanedagainsttheframe,armsandanklescrossedcasuallyashewatchedmewalkeverystepofthewaytowardhim.Hedidn’thidehisgazeasittraveledthelengthofme,andIcouldn’thidetheblushthatwarmedmycheeksathisunyieldingstare.
“Hey,”hesaideasilywhenIwasclose,andthenhepushedofffromwherehe’dbeenleaningandwrappedmeinatighthug.
Thathugwaswarmandcozy,likewe’dknowneachotherforyears,likehewaswelcominghomealong-timefriendhe’dmisseddreadfully.Hesmelledofsomesortofherb,patchouli,maybe.Heofferedmealazysmilewhenhepulledback,hiseyessortofglossedasheheldoutahandtoushermeinside.
“Ihopeyoudon’tmindtakeout,”hesaidwhenheshutthedoorbehindus.“Iwastooexhaustedtocookanything.”
Ididn’tanswer,mostlybecauseIwastoobusygapingatthescenethatwaitedformeinside.Hisdarkstudiowasfaintlylitbywarmcandles,theirflickeringflamescastingshadowsonthewallsandoverthedinnerspreadinthecenteroftheroom.He’dcoveredacoffeetablewithacreamsilktablecloth,adozenrosesrightinthecenteralongwithmorecandles.Pillowspileduponeithersidemadeupthemakeshiftchairs,andhe’dsetthetablefortwo,withItaliantakeoutIrecognizedfromanearbyrestaurantofferingeverythingfromchickenandpastatolambandbruschetta.
Softmusicpouredoverthescene,jazzyandsmooth,andmyeyestraveledoverthedinnerspreadtotakeintheminimalistdormasawhole.Akeyboardsatfacingthewindows,hisguitarproppednexttoit,andhislaptopsatopenwithsomesortofmusicengineeringsoftwareonthescreen.Hehadonesmallcouch,brownleatherlikethebootshealwayswore,andaboxspringandmattressonthefloorhuggedthecornerwall.
Itwasabedroom,kitchen,livingroomandmusicstudioallinone,andwiththevinylplayingontheCrosleyinthecorner,andthemyriadofpostershangingonthewall,ithadanalmostgrunge-likeromanticappeal,likesomethingstraightoutofa90’smovie.
“Wow,”Ibreathed,takingitallin.
“Ihopeit’snottoomuch,”Shawnsaid,scrubbingahandbackthroughhisshaggyhair.“Ilikecandles.”
“It’sbeautiful,”Iassuredhim,evenwithmyvoicethickinmythroat.Itookhisleadthen,takingaseatonthepillowsoppositethesideofthetablehe’dsaton.
“Wine?”heasked,tiltingthebottletowardmyglassbeforeI’devenanswered.“It’sMoscato.Ihaven’treallydevelopedatasteforanythingdeeper.”
Ichuckled.“Well,sinceyou’renineteen,IguessI’llletitslide.”
“Twenty,”hecorrectedafterfillingourglasses,thenheheldhisup.“Toyou,Giana,”hesaid,hiseyessparklinginthecandlelight.“Andtothemusicthatfillsoursouls.”
Ismiled,clinkingmyglassagainsthisbeforeItookasip.Thewinewasalmosttoosweet,tastingmorelikegrapejuicethanlikeanythingthathadalcoholinit.ButIlikedthebubblesdancingonmytongueasIlookedaround.
“I’vemissedyouatmyshows,”Shawnsaid,platingapestopastaontohisdishbeforepassingthecontainertome.
“I’msurprisedyoueverrealizedIwasthereinthefirstplace.”
“Whywouldthatsurpriseyou?”heaskedgenuinely.“Lookatyou.”
Iarchedabrow,lookingdownatmysloppy,largesweatshirtandjoggers.“Yeah.Atotalbabe.”
Shawnlaughed.“Youare.Andyou’reunique.YoustandoutinawayI’veneverseenanyothergirldo.”
Somethingaboutthatwrinkledmynose—mostlybecauseIabsolutelyloathedtheyou’renotlikeothergirlsline.Itfeltdivisiveandlikemoreofaninsulttowomanhoodthanacomplimenttome.
“YouneverseemedtonoticebeforethatnightIsawyoudowntown,”Icommented.
“Inoticedeverytime.”
Hiswordscameswiftly,andhepausedwherehewasplatingachickencutlet.
“Isawyouatthecaféalllastyear,watchedasyousangalongtoeverysong—evenmyoriginals.”
Iflushed.
“Iwatchedyoudrinkthesamecoffeeorder,somesortoflargeespressofoamything,”headdedwithalaugh.“EveryeveningwhenIwasthere.AndIalwayswonderedifyou’deverstickaround,orcomeupandsayhi,butyouneverdid.”
Ibalked,unabletobelievethatheeverpaidattentiontome,butevenmoresothathewaswaitingformetomakeamove.“Youcouldhavebeentheonetocomebreakthatbarrier,youknow,”Itoldhim.
“Maybe,”heagreed.“Buteverytimemysetended,youwouldbolt.AndwhenIhadintermission,youwouldpickupyourbook.”Heleveledhisgazewithmine.“Doyouknowhowintimidatingitistoapproachagirlwhenshe’sreadingabook?That’sliketryingtopetacat’sbelly.Itmightworkoutgreat,butmorethanlikelyyou’llgetclawstothefaceforassumingtheywantedanythingtodowithyou.”
Thelaughthatshotoutofmesurprisedme,andthesnortthatfollowedbroughtawidegrintoShawn’sface.
“Fairenough,”Isaidthroughmylaughter,andthenIsippedthesweetwinebeforetakingmyfirstbiteofpasta.
“CanIaskyousomething?”Shawninquired.
Inodded,andhepausedalongmomentwithhisforkhoveringoverhisplatebeforehefinallyspokeagain.
“WhyareyoudatingClayJohnson?”
Ifroze,apainfulchillwashingovermeformorereasonsthanIcouldkeepupwith.ThesoundofClay’sname,thememoryofwhathadhappenedbetweenus,thereminderthatIwasn’tdatinghim—notreally—allhitmeatonce.
Iswallowed.“Whydoesitmatter?”
“BecauseIcan’tfigureitout,”Shawnansweredhonestly.“Notforthelifeofme.Youknow,Ithoughthewascool,butthenI’vewatchedthewayhe’streatedyou.Thatnightintheclubwhenhewasbasicallymolestingyouforeveryonetosee?AndthenatThePit,whenhetookthatbodyshotoffanothergirl?”
Fake.Allofitwasfake.
“Shedidn’tmeananythingtohim,”Iwhispered.
“Well,doyou?”
Ifrowned,lookinguptofindShawnwatchingmelikeIwasapoor,patheticgirlwhodidn’trealizeIwasbeingabused.
Buthedidn’tknowwhathappenedwhennoonewaslooking.
“Youdeservetobehappy,Giana,”Shawnsaid.“Andyoudeserveamanwhotreatsyouliketheprincessyouare.”
Icouldn’thidemyfacetwistingatthat.
Princess?Ew.
Isomehowsmiledthroughit,though.“Well,thankyou,”Isaid.“Andthankyouforthis.It’s…honestly?Themostromanticthinganyonehaseverdoneforme.”
Shawnsatupstraighter,shoulderssquare.“Good.I’mhappytohavethattitle.”
Theconversationwaseasyafterthat.Fortunately,ShawndroppedanythingrelatedtoClayandfocusedongettingtoknowme,ontellingmemoreabouthim.IsmiledasIlistenedtohimtellmeaboutgrowingupinavanwithhishippyparents,howhe’dbeentomoremusicfestivalsattheageoftenthanmostpeoplewenttointheirentirelives.Andheleanedoverthetable,completelyenrapturedasItoldhimaboutmysiblings,andmyloveforsmuttybooks.
BeforeIknewit,dinnerwasdone,andwemovedovertothesmallsofa.Foralongtimewecontinuedtalking,butthenShawnflickedthroughhisNetflixandturnedonadocumentarythatI,miraculously,hadn’tseenyet.HesaidheknewI’dloveit,ifIlovednerdingoutaboutspace.
AndIdid.
Wesankbackintotheleathercushions,Shawnofferingoneofhisblanketstomeandcoveringupwithanother.Butasthedocumentarywenton,Ifelthimmovingcloserandcloser,thedistancebetweenusnarrowinguntilhisarmwassomehowaroundthebackofthecouchandthusme,too.
Myhearthammeredinmyears,andIwasacutelyawareofeverybreathhetook,everycentimeterhisarmtraveleduntilitwasrestingaroundme.Icouldn’tpayattentiontoanything,leastofallthemonotonemanlistingouthowinfinitethegalaxywas.
MygalaxywascurrentlyrevolvingaroundShawnStetson.
Idaredtolookathim,andheangledhisfacetowardme,hiseyessearchingmineinthelowlightfromthecandlesandtelevision.Hereachedout,sweepingmyhairbehindoneear,thoughitwasatentative,unsuretouch.
“You’vesmiledsomuchtonight,”hecommented.
Hecuedanotheronewiththat.“It’sbeenagreatnight.”
“Youshouldsmilelikethisallthetime.Youshouldhaveaboyfriendwhomakesyouhappy,Giana.”
Iswallowed,andwithoutwarning,tearsglossedmyeyes.
Shawnmovedin,closingthespacebetweenusashiseyesflickedtomylips.“Letmebetheonetomakeyouhappy,”hewhispered.
Andthen,hekissedme.
Alittleflashofexcitementanddesireshotthroughmeatthefirstcontact,andIsuckedinabreath,meetinghisgentlekisswithoneofequalmeasure.
Butinthenextmoment,Ifelt…
Weird.
Hesmelledwrong,tastedwrong.Hislipsweretoosoft,hishandstooweakwheretheyheldme.Hedidn’tpossessme,didn’twrapmeupinallthathewaswiththatkiss.Ididn’tfeelanything,otherthancuriousoverwhatthedifferencewas.
MaybeIjustwasn’tfocused.
Imentallydraggedmyfullattentiontohim,kissinghimwithmoreearnest.Thatmadehimgroan,andIsmiledinvictoryashepressedintomealittleharder,leaningmebackuntilmyheadhitthearmofhiscouchandhesettledinontopofme.
Hewashard.
Ifeltitagainstmythigh,butagain,Icouldn’tfocusonanythingotherthanthatitdidn’tfeelright.
StopcomparingtoClay,Iwarnedmyself,wrappingmyarmsaroundShawn’sneckandpullinghiminforadeeperkiss.
Iwantedthis.IwantedShawn.Hehadbeenmyobsessionalllastyear.I’ddreamedofthis,ofwhatitwouldbeliketohavehimwantme,tohavehimkissmeandholdme.
ButnowthatIhadit…
Itriedandtriedtomakemybrainshutoff,tochaseawayeverycomparisonthatflewatme.Butitwasuseless.Everykisswaslacking,coldandawkwardcomparedtotheheatedonesI’dsharedwithClay.Everytouchwaswrong,everyrollofhishipsagainstmemademewinceinpainmorethanwritheinneed.
EmotionstrangledmythroatasItriedwithdesperatekissestofeelsomething,anything,otherthanalongingsadnessforwhatI’dlost.Butitwasuseless.
Ididn’twantShawn.
Ididn’twantanyonewhowasn’tClay.
Isniffedagainstasob,pressingmyhandsintoShawn’schestandstoppinghimbeforehecouldtrailkissesdownmyneck.“Shawn,wait.”
“We’vebothwaitedlongenough,”herasped,kissingmyfingertips.“I’vegotyou,Giana.You’resafewithme.”
Ialmostrolledmyeyesathowhardhemissedthepoint.
“Ishouldgo.”
ButShawnkeptkissing,tryingtolowerhimselfdownmybodybeforeIabruptlyshovedhischestuntilhewasoffme.
“Ihaveaboyfriend.”
Thatsoberedhim,andhesatbackonhisheels,chestheavingandeyeswildashetriedtocalmhimself.Icouldseehiserectionstrainingthroughhissweatpants,buthenodded,runningahandbackthroughhishairbeforegivingmemorespace.
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Yeah,I…I’msorry.”
Ireachedouttotouchhishand.“Don’tbe.I…Iwantedyoutokissme.”
Hesmiledatthat.
“But,”Iaddedquickly.“I’mnotyourstokiss.”
Itwaseasierthantellinghimthatoncehehadkissedme,Ihadn’tlikedit.
Hefrowned,butnodded.“Iunderstand.”
AmomentofawkwardsilencepassedbetweenusbeforeIstood,swipingmyphoneoffthetableandtuckingitinthepocketofmyhoodie.“I’lltextyou,”Ipromised.
Andthenbeforehecouldsayanythingelse,Ileft.
IwasnumbasIwalkedthefewblocksbacktomyplace,unabletoevenshiveragainstthecoolfogthathadsettledoverthecity.GroupsofstudentslaughingandgoingoutforthenightstumbledpastmelikeIwasinvisible,andthatwasexactlyhowIfelt.
HowI’dalwaysfelt.
Itwasapatheticsentiment,onethatwasn’twarrantedafterhavingaveryhot,verydesiredmusicianpracticallythrowhimselfatme.Ishouldhavefelthonored,shouldhavebeenrevelinginhowbadlyhewantedme,inhowhewouldhavetakenmeifI’donlylethim.
Butthefactremainedthathewasn’twhoIwantedtowantme.
ToClay,Iwasjustatool,aployinhisplottogetMaliyahback.AndIcouldn’tevenbemadathim,becauseI’djumpedheadfirstintohisoffertohelpmegetShawnbecauseClaywasn’tevenonmyradarthen.ShawnwasallI’dwanted,allI’dfantasizedabout.
HowfoolishofmetonotrememberthatwhenClaywasholdingme,whenhewastouchingme,kissingme.
Iwasanabsoluteidiot,actinglikeIwasthemaincharacterinsomestupidromancenovelinsteadofrememberingthatIwasjusttheweird,nerdygirltryingtofakeit.
Tryingtofakeeverything
IfakedthatIwasconfidentenoughtobeapublicrelationsassociate,fakedthatIwasClay’sgirlfriend,fakedthatIdidn’tfeelanythingwhenheundressedme,whenhismouthandhandsbroughtmepleasureI’dneverknowninmylife.
IfakedthatIdidn’tcareabouthim,thatIwantedMaliyahtocomebackintohislife,thatIwantedtohelpthathappen.
Ihadbeenlivingonegiantlieformonths.
Andnow,IhadnoideawhoIwas.
IdraggedmyfeetasIroundedthelastcornerthatledtomyblock,digginginmypocketformykey.IwastoobusystaringatthesidewalkthatIdidn’tnoticethatIwasn’taloneuntilIwasattheedgeofmystoop.
AndalargepairofwhiteAllbirdsneakerscameintoview.
Myheartstoppedinmychestatthesightofthem,atthedarkgrayjoggersthatcuffedattheankleoflegsIcoulddrawblind,Iknewthemsowellnow.Iclutchedmykeyinmyhandasmyeyestrailedupthosesweats,theNBUFootballsweater,andfinally,toClay’sface.
Hismiserable,torturedface.
Icouldn’tspeak,couldn’tdoanythingotherthanwatchwherehiskneebounced,hisclaspedhandsbalancingoveritwrungtogetherlikehewasamanontheedgeofbreaking.Hisnoseflared,redeyestakinginthelengthofmelikehewaslookingforsomethinghecouldn’tfindevenwithamagnifyingglass.
“Howdiditgo?”
Hisquestionsurprisedme,especiallywithhowslowandachinglyitcamefromhislips.Itwasbarelyacroak,likethewordshadburnedhisesophagusonthewayout.
“Honestly?”Iaskedonaslowbreath.“Awful.”
Claydidn’tshowanyemotionalresponsetothat.
“Imean,hetried,”Iclarified.“I…IgotwhatIwanted,Iguess.ButIjust…”Ipaused,stomachrollingpainfullyatthetruthIwasn’tbraveenoughtosay.“Itfeltoff.Itfelt…wrong.”
Istaredatmyshoes,atClay’s,athishandsthatwerestillwhite-knuckled
Afteralongmoment,Imanagedaswallow,pullingmygazetomeethis.“Whyareyouhere?”Iwhispered.
IsworeIsawaworldwarragingbehindhiseyes,heardgunshotsandbombsexplodingashebattledwithwhateverwasonhismind.Itwaslikehewasontheprecipiceofdecidingwhetherhewantedtosayitorkeepitinsideforever.
Andthen,helookedatme,Adam’sapplebobbinghardinhisthroatbeforehedaredtopushforward.
“Icouldn’teat,”hestarted,kneestillbouncing.“Couldn’ttrain,couldn’tsleep,couldn’tdoanythingotherthanmakemyselfsickthinkingabouthimtouchingyou.”
Mybreathcaughtattheneed,atthepure,desperatepossessionthatrolledoffhistonguealongwiththosewords.
“Itriedtopullmyheadoutofmyass,toremindmyselfthatthiswaswhatyouwanted,whatwebothhavebeenplayingthisgamefor.”Clayshookhishead.“Butitwasuseless.”
Hedroppedhisgazefrommine,staringsomewhereatthegroundbetweenus,instead.
“Ihavethoughtofnothingandnoonebutyousincethatnightontheobservatorytower.”
Hiswordswerejustawhisper,andemotionwrappeditshandsaroundmythroat,grippingtightasIheldontoeverywordhesaid.
“Iwantyoutobehappy,Giana,”hecontinued,voiceragged.“MaybemorethanI’vewantedanythinginmylife.Andifhe’swhatmakesyouhappy?I’llleave.Rightnow.”Hisgazesnappedtomine.“Wecanpubliclybreakupandyoucanhavewhatyouwant.Iwillwalkaway.Iwillleaveyoube.Iwillsincerely,withallmyheart,wishnothingbuttheverybestforyouasIletyougo.”
Istruggledwithmynextbreathatthethought,atallofitbeingover.
Claystoodthen,slowly,hiseyesneverleavingmineashedid.
“Butthat’snotwhatIwant,”hecontinued,testingthespacebetweenus.“Andithasn’tbeenforawhilenow,nomatterhowItriedtofightit.”
ThebitterbreezedidnothingtocoolmysteamingcheeksasClaytookanothertentativesteptowardme,buthedidn’tcloseallthespace.Hedidn’treachforme,didn’ttouchme,didn’tdaretakethecontrolhewasgrantingtome.
“Iwantyou,”hedeclared,andtheadmissionmusthavepainedhimasmuchasitelatedme.Hisbrowsbenttogether,noseflaringlikehewaslayinghimselfdownatmyfeetandhandingmeasword,notknowingifI’daskhimtostandagainorcuthisheadoff.“Iwantyou,”herepeatedonaraspybreath.“AndIdon’twanttopretendanymore.”
Inearlysobbedwhenthosewordsdancedintotheshellofmyear,whenIrealizedeveryachingripofmyheartwasonehe’dfelt,too.
Itwasreal.
Allofitwasreal.
AndtheonlywayIknewhowtotellhimthatwaswithmyhandsslidinguphischest,armswrappingaroundhisneck,andtoespressingagainstthesidewalkuntilIcouldmeldmymouthwithhis.
“I’myours,”Iwhispered.
AndthenIwasrakedintohisarms.Giana
Mybackwasslammedagainstmyfrontdoortheseconditclosedbehindus.
Claypushedintomewitheverythingthathewas,theentiretyofhisbodycoveringmine.Hishipspinnedmeagainstthewood,mylegswrappingaroundhim,heelsdiggingintohisassandbeggingformore.Hishandsgrippedmyhipshardashekissedme,lipssoftandwarmandsomehowtenderintheirdemand.
Iopenedforhim,softeningwitheverytouch,releasingeverybitoftensionthathadweaveditselfintomybonessincethenighthewalkedawayfromme.Andasifhecouldsensethatwaswheremyheadhadgone,heintertwinedhishandswithmine,holdingthembesidemyheadashepressedhischesthardagainstmyown.
“ThiswaswhyIleftlastweek,”hewhisperedintothespacebetweenus,hisforeheadtomine,ourbreathslaboredbetween.“Iwalkedawayfromyouevenwheneverythinginmybodybeggedmetostay.BecausewhenItookyouforthefirsttime,Ididn’twantittobeundertheguiseofanyofthisbetweenusbeingfake.”
Hesqueezedmyhandsinhisown,kissingmychinuntilItippeditupandallowedhimaccesstomyneck.
“Thisisn’tfake,”hesworeagainstmyskin,kissingandnippingitalongtheway.“Nothingbetweenushaseverbeenfake.”
Hismouthwasonmineinthenextbreath,andthenIwasbeingcarriedthroughmyapartment—mostlyblindlyasIhadn’thadtimetoeventurnalighton.Theonlyonewasfromabovemystove,anditjustbarelylitupthespace,darknessbattlingwiththelightineverycorner.
Claywascarefulasheloweredmeontothebed,andIsatattheedgeofitashebackedawayfromme,takinghisheatwithhim.
Withhiseyeswatchingme,hereachedforthebackofhishoodieandtoreitoverhishead,flingingittothesidebeforehedidthesamewiththet-shirtunderneath.Ireachedout,myfingertipsjustbarelygettingatasteofhisabdomenbeforehepeeledthemawayandsatthematmysidesagain.
“Stripforme.”
Hiswordswerehot,confident,andsealedwithintentionashesteppedevenfartherawayandkickedoffhissneakersbeforecarefullyriddinghimselfofhissweatpants.
Hewasamasterpiecethereinnothingbuthisblackboxerbriefs,briefsthatwerestrainedastheyheldbackhisthickeningerection.Clay’seyesheatedmorewhenIgrabbedthewristofmyhoodie,tuggingitoffonearmandthentheotherbeforeIpeeleditoverhead.
Mynippleswerepeakedundermytanktop,thethinfabriceasilydisposedofinthenextsecond.Isnappedmygazetomeethiswhenmychestwasbare,andhiseyesdroppedtotakemein,alowgroanrollingfromhisthroatatthesight.
Hishandsliddownhisabdomenandbeneaththebandofhisbriefs,strokinghimselfashiseyestrailedtowheremysweatpantswerestillfastenedaroundmyhips.Ireclinedbackontothecomforter,usingmyheelsonthefloortopushmyhipsupandslidethethickfabricdownmythighs,myknees,untilthepantspooledatmyfeet.
“Stoprightthere.”
Clayadvancedonme,takingonlyamomenttoslipoutofhisbriefsbeforehewastoweringovermeattheedgeofthebed.Irestedontheheelsofmyhands,panting,throbbingforhimasherakedhisgazeovereverybareinchofme.
“Up,”hesaid,grabbingmywristtohelpme.AndonceIwasstanding,hespunme,gatheringmyhairinonemassivehandandpullingittothesidesohecouldwhisperhisnextwordsagainstmyneck.“Wannaknowwhyyoudidn’tfeelanythingwithhim?”
Hisquestionwaslostonme,becausehishandreleasedmyhair,trailingdownmyribsandhipsuntilhisfingertipshookedinthecottonofmyboyshorts.Oneswiftpullhadthemovermyass,andanotherfreedthemfromaroundmythighsuntiltheydroppedtomyanklestojoinmysweatpants.
“I’vebeenreadingyourbooks,”hecontinued,tonguelashingouttotastemyearlobebeforehenibbledit.Thesoundofhisbreathinmyearcombinedwiththatlittlebitesentchillsracingdownmylegs,andIarchedintohim,myassmeetinghisfirmerectionthatslidbetweenmywarmcheeks.
Hegroanedatthecontact,butkeptonwithhisslowtorture,handscrawlingupmyabdomenuntilhewassoftlypluckingateachnipple.
“Iknowwhatyouwant,”herasped.“Whatyoudon’twant.”
Hetwistedmynipplebetweenhisfingerandthumb,asmallsnapofpainquicklycoveredbyarollofpleasureashemassagedmyfullbreastinthenextbreath.
“Youdon’twantsoft,sweet,tender,”hetoldme,punctuatingeachwordwithakissagainstthebackofmyneck.Hetrailedthosekissesdownuntilhisteethweresinkingintothefleshatmyshoulder,andIhissedbeforeagutturalmoanI’dneverheardmyselfreleasebeforefilledthespacearoundus.
Claygrinned,kissingthespothe’djustbitten.
“Youwantpossession,”hecontinued,onehandslidingdown,down,downastheothertraveledupovermybreasts.“Youwantsomeonetotakecontrol,toravageyou.”
Hecuppedmebetweenthelegsatthesametimehisotherhandwrappedaroundmythroat,andthedoublesensationmademeshudderviolently,collapsingintohiminthemostsinceresurrender.
“Shawnisanartist,amusician,”hewhisperedagainstmyear,hisgriponmynecktighteningabit.Itmademynextbreathalittlehardertograsp.
AndIfuckinglovedit.
“Butyou’reincontrolofsomuchinyourlife—theteam,yourjob,school…”Hismiddlefingerslidbetweenmylabia,glidingintothewetnesspooledthereforhimbeforehedraggeditbackoutandcircledmyclit.Itrembledatthefeelofit,butheheldmesteadyashecontinued.“Sointhebedroom,youwantthatdutytobeonsomeoneelse.”
Icouldn’tverbalizemyagreement—mostlybecauseIhadn’trealizedituntilthatmomentthathepointeditout,thougheverysentimenthespokerangsotrue,Iwantedtothrowmyhandsupandscreamamen.Butalso,becauseeveryounceofmyawakeningwastappedintohishands,theonearoundmythroatandtheonebetweenmylegs,eachclaimingmeinequalmeasure.
“Youdon’twanttobesomeone’smuse,”Clayrasped.“Youwanttobesomeone’sundoing.Andletmetellyou,Kitten…”Hisvoicerumbledagainstmyearbeforehesuckedthelobebetweenhisteeth.“You’remine.”
Iwhimperedattheadmission,attheknowledgethatIcouldbetheundoingofsuchapowerful,explosiveman.Then,allatonce,allhiswarmthleftme,handsandmouthdisappearing,allbutthepressuretospinmearoundtofacehimagain.Inearlyfellwithhowmyankleswerestilltiedupbymypants,butClaysteadiedme.
Wewereheavingchesttoheavingchest,Clay’semeraldeyessparkingafirelowinmybellyashedraggedthetipofhisnosealongthebridgeofmine.
“Youreadmybooks,”Ibreathed,aquestionandadisbeliefallatonce.
“Fuckyeah,Idid.”
“Why?”
Clayswallowed,brushinghisknucklesalongthesideofmycheek.“ItoldmyselfitwastohelpyougetShawn,”hesaid.“Butintruth,itwastohelpmepleaseyou.”
Ishiveredasthosewordsrolledoverme,mynippleshardeningatthecoldairandthedeliciouswarmthofthatsentiment.
Hewantstopleaseme.
Hereadmyfuckingbooks
“Now,”hesaid,runningonehandroughlyupthefrontofme.Hisfingersdoveupbetweenmybreasts,thumbslidingovermynippleonthewayuptomyneck.Hegrippeditforonlyasecondbeforehishandwasframingmyjaw,tiltingmychin,histhumbslidingtocovermymouth.Hecircledmylipswiththepadofit,draggingthebottomonedownslowlyuntilitpoppedfree.“Getonyourkneesforme,Kitten.”
IdroppedsofastClaysmirked,andthenhewrappedhishandaroundhislength,guidingittomylips.Ilappeduptheprecumrollingoffhistiplikeadropofdew,moaningatthetasteofhimbeforeItookhisfullcrownalongmytongue.
Hebitoutacurse,eyesrollingbackbeforehelethisheaddrop,too.Hishandcradledmyhead,fingertipscurlinginmyhairashehelpedmesuckhim.Iknewjustwhattodoafterourlesson,howtorollmytonguealonghisshaftandholdhimdeepinmythroatbeforereleasinghimwithalittlegag.AndClaytookeverystrokeIgavehimwithpureadorationandappreciation,hiseyescrawlingovermeorcastinguptowardtheceilingwhenitbecametoomuch.
Itwasn’tlongenoughthatIwasdownthereforhimbeforehewashikingmebackup,helpingmeoutoftheclothesstillrestrainingmyanklesbeforehelaidmebackintothebed.Hegrabbedhissweatpantsthen,reachingintothepocketforsomethingthathesatonthebedsidetablebeforehewascrawlingontopofme.
“Thatmadeyousowetlasttime,”hemused,trailinghot,pepperykissesdownmyribsandacrossmyhips.“Let’sseeifithadthesameeffecttonight.”
Hesettledbetweenmythighs,takingeachoneonhisshouldersbeforehedippedhisnosebetweenthem.Heteasedmyclitwiththatbrushbeforehistonguedraggedsoftandslowovermyfolds,andItrembledathowbadlyIwantedhimtoseparatethem,todipinsideandgivemetheconnectionIneeded.
“Fuckingsoaked,”heconfirmed,andhesuckedmyclitwithtendercarebeforeonehandslidunderhismouthandtestedthewetnessatmyentrance.“Absolutelydrenchedforme,Kitten.”
Ilovedhowhetalkedtome,howeverydirtywordmademearchandpantandacheforhim.Iwantedtodoit,too,totalkbacktohimandmakehimfeelthesame.ButIwasshockedsilentbyeverytouch,everykiss,everywarmlashofhistongueagainstmybudasheusedhisfingerstoslowlyspreadmylipsandtoywithmyentrance.
“Showmehowyouwantit,”hewhisperedagainstthesensitiveflesh.“Usemyhandtofuckyourself.”
Imewled,chestheaving,andIwatchedthroughhoodedlidsasClayguidedmyhandtohisbeforedippingbetweenmylegsoncemore.HehoveredthereatmyentranceuntilIpressedhisfingersinsideme,mydesiresothickheslidinwithoutmuchresistance,andwebothmoanedashefilledme.
“God,Ilovefeelingthattightpussystretchopenforme,”herasped,andIshookaroundhisfingersashewithdrewthemandpumpedtheminagainatmygrip’srequest.
Slowandsteady,heworkedmeopen,lickingatmyclitintimewithhisfingers—thoughIcontrolledthose.Hewentatthepacemyhandaroundhisdirectedhimto,anditwasn’tlongbeforeIwaswrithingunderhistongueandfingers,soclosetocomingIcouldfeelthefirecatchingattheendofeverynerveofmybody.
“Clay,”Ibegged,andheknewwhatIneededwithoutanotherword.Hetookcontrol,hisfingerspumpinginandoutofmeinthesamesortofrhythmI’ddirectedbeforetheyslowlypickeduppace.Histonguekepttime,andmyfiststwistedinthesheetsjustintimeformetocome,mybodyshakingandheartracingfartoofastasIexplodedintoamillionlittlestars.
I’donlyhadafew,buteverytimeseemedbetterthanthelast,likemybodywaslearningmoreandmorehowtocomeundoneandtakefulladvantageofthepleasureClaywasdeterminedtobringme.
Icriedoutwiththelastofit,tremblinginhisgripbeforeIfellcompletelylax.
“That’smygirl,”Claypraised,andhelickedupmyreleaselikeitwashisonlymealbeforeslowlycrawlingupmybody.“Ihopeyouknowthat’sjustthefirstonetonight.”
Ismiled,laughingabitasmybreathsteadied.ButthenIwasseekinghimagain,handswrappingaroundhisneckandpullinghimintomeforadeepkiss.
“I’mready.”
Clayswallowed,meetingmywarmkisseswithhisownbeforehereachedblindlyforwhateverhe’dputonthebedsidetable.WhenIheardthefoiltear,Irealizedwhatitwas.
Myhearthammeredtoagallopinmychest,beatingsoloudandhardIcouldhearitinmyears.IimaginedClaycouldhearit,too,becausehepausedwiththecondominhishand,usingtheothertobrushthehairfrommyeyes.
“Wecanwait,”heoffered.
“No.”
Ireachedforthecondom,pluckingitfromhisfingersandkissinghimasIblindlyfeltforhiserectionbetweenus.WhenIgrippedhim,slowlyrollingthecondomoverhislength,hemoanedintomymouth,hipsflexingintotherubberasIcontinuedstretchingitoverhim.
“Ineedyouinsideme,”Iwhispered,rollingmyhipstomeethis.“Iwantyoutobethefirstonetofillme,Clay.IwantyoutobethefirstoneIfeellikethis.”
Hegrowled,bitingmybottomlipashereachedbetweenusformywrists.Hepinnedbothbymyhead,leaningupabittotakeinthelengthofmeasIpantedandwrithedbeneathhim.
“Youwantmetobetheonlyone,”hecorrectedme,andfuckifIdidn’tgaspoutaweakyesinaffirmation.
Clay’seyelidsflutteredattheword,andhisjawwastightashereachedbetweenusandadjustedhimselfatmyentrance.Ikeptmyhandswherehe’dplacedthem,evenwithhisgripgone,twistingmyfingertipsintothepillowatmyheadasIheldonfordearlife.
Hiscrownslippedbetweenmylips,andheranitupthroughmywetnessbeforeslidingitdowntomyentrance.Hepausedthen,hiseyesfindingmine,andthenhetestedit,flexingforwardjustenoughtostretchmeopenforhim.
Igasped,thatsamefamiliarcocktailofpleasureandpainsurfacingfromthefirsttimehefingeredme.
Thedominancefadedfromhisface,browsfoldingtogetherasheloweredhimselfdowntohiselbowsandbroughthislipstomine.
“Okay?”heaskedsoftly.
Inodded,wrappingmyarmsaroundhimandslidingmyfingersintohishair.Igrippedhimtome,kissinghimharderasItuckedmyhipsjustenoughtohelphimslideacentimetermore.
Webothinhaledastiffbreathatthefeelofit,andthenClaytookcontrolagain,withdrawingthatsmallbitofhistipbeforeheflexedforwardandfilledmeevenmore.
Thepainintensified,butitwassmoothedquicklyashekissedmeandtookhistime,eachrollofhishipsstretchingmeopenjustalittlemore.Overandover,againandagain,inchbyblissfulinch—heopenedme,slidingindeeperanddeeperashekissedmereverently,histhunderingheartmatchingthebeatofmyown.
Andthen,withahissandamoan,hefilledme.
Webothshudderedwhenhewasfullyinside,andIclungtohim,nailsdiggingintothefleshofhisbackashesoftlykissedwherehisheadwasburiedinmyneck.
“Goddamn,Kitten,”hegroaned,withdrawingonlytoflexfullyinsidemeagain.“Youfeelsofuckingincredible.”
Icouldn’tspeaktotellhimhefeltthesame,becausetoofastforittobenormal,anotherorgasmbuiltheavyandhotinmygut.
“I…I…”
Itriedtosayit,triedtobringthewordsoutthatwouldlethimknowwhatIwasfeeling.Whetherheknewornot,Icouldn’tbesure,buthegavemejustwhatIneeded.Heslippedoutofmeonlytoslidebackin,findingarhythmashekissedmyneckandmassagedmybreastinhislarge,warmhand.
Thesensationsbattledformyattention,andIspreadmythighsevenwiderforhim,needingmore
Claypressedupontothepalmsofhishands,toweringoverme,andIwatchedthesensuousrollofhisbodyashefuckedme.Itwasthemostgorgeous,mosthedonisticsightI’deverseeninmylife.Hisabscontractedandreleasedwitheveryroll,hisheavyeyeslockedonmineashedrovemeclosertotheedge.
“Clay,”Iwhispered,asscaredasIwasexcitedforthefeelingbuildinginsideme.
“Takeit,”hedemanded.
Myhandshotdownbetweenmylegs,andittookonlythesoftestrollofmyfingertipsovermyclitintimewithhimpumpinginandoutofmetofindmyrelease.
Iquakedandcriedout,thisoneevenmorepowerfulthanthelast,morepowerfulthananyI’deverexperiencedbeforeinmylife.Mywallstightenedaroundhimashekeptpace,andIshookandwrithedinthesheets,reachingouttodragmynailsdownthevalleysandpeaksofhisabdomen.
“Fuck,Giana,”hegroaned,andjustasmyorgasmwasfadingout,hispacequickened.
Hewasclose.
Ipressedupontomyownpalms,heelsofmyfeetfindingthebedsoIcouldmeethisthrustswithmyown.
“Ohshit,”hecursed,watchingmybreastsbouncewildlyasImethiseagerpumps,andIcapturedhismouthwithmyownjustashegroanedouthisrelease.
Ifeltit,felthimtwitchinginsidemeashisseedspilledintothecondom.IwassosensitiveIcouldfeeleveryrivuletasitexpendedfromhim,andmymouthwateredwiththedesiretotastehimlikeIhadthatnightattheobservatory.
ItwasthefiercestrushI’dknowninmylife,tomakeClaycome,tofeelhimreleaseinsidemeandknowitwasmewho’dbroughthimthatpleasure.
Hecollapsedontome,forcingmetosinkintothesheetsasoneofhishandspainfullygrippedmyhipandhepumpedoutthelastofhisorgasm.Hetrembledwhenhewasspent,foreheaddroppingtomineaswebothpanted,ourslickskindampeningeachotherandthesheets.
Andasfiercelyashehadtakencontrol,hesurrendereditbacktome.
“Areyouokay?”heaskedsoftly,searchingmygazebeforehepressedagentlekisstomynose.
“I’mfuckingamazing.”
Hesmiled,onebrowarchingupasheflexedhissofteningmemberinsideme.“Thatmakestwoofus.”Hepaused.“Come.Let’sshower.”
Carefully,heremovedhimselffrominsideme,disposingofthecondombeforehehelpedmestand.Ididn’trealizeIneededhelpuntilItriedtowalkonmyshakylegs,thighsachinginprotestfromhowI’dflexedeverymuscleinmybodychasingbothofmyreleases.
Clayrantheshowerwarmbeforehelpingmestepinside,andhecameinrightbehindme,closingthecurtainandenvelopingusinawarm,darkenclave.
Hisarmswrappedmeupasthewaterwasheddownmyback,andIsighedatthecontentmentthatspreadoverme,thepureecstasyofthatmoment.
Clayheldmelikethatforalongwhilebeforehepulledback,swallowingashiseyesflickedbackandforthbetweenmine.Hegrabbedmyfaceinhishands,thumbsagainstmyjawforcingmetolookathimashesaid,“Thankyoufortrustingmewiththat,forlettingmebeyourfirst.”
Ibitagainstmysmile,shakingmyhead.“Youreallyarelikeabookboyfriend,youknow?”
Atthat,hechuckled,tuckingmeintohischestagainbeforepressingakissagainstmywethair.“I’llbeevenbetter,”hesaid.“Justwaitandsee.”
AndIhadabsolutelyzerodoubtsthatwasapromisehewouldn’tbreak.Clay
I’dneverfeltsowhole.
Notwithafootballinmyhands,notwithmymom’sarmaroundmeinprideonmygraduationday,notinanyofthemomentsI’deversharedwithMaliyah.
Nothinghadeverfilledmeup,allthewaytothebrim,thewaywakingupnexttoGianadid.
Herdarkcurlswereanabsolutemess,frizzyandstickingthiswayandthat,thegoldenhighlightsinthemidstofbrownlikeachaotichaloaroundherheadonthepillow.Hermouthwasopen,shallowsnoresslippingthroughherpinklipsasalittledroolslidthroughthecorner.
Ismiled,lettingmyeyestraceoverthebeamsoflightstreakinginthroughherblindsandcastingherinagoldenglow.Andsuddenly,Irealizedhowverydifferentlylastnightcouldhavegone,howdifferentlythismorningwouldbehadImadeadifferentdecision—hadInotsaidfuckitandgoneafterthegirl.
Mychestached.
Onechoice.OnemomentwhereI’ddecidedIcouldn’tstaysilentanymore,nomatterwhatkindofpainitwouldbringtoherortomeformetospeakthetruth.ItwasnearlyaweekIletmypridesitontopofme,holdingmedownwithitsweightandthestingingreminderthatherdatewithShawnwaswhatshewanted,whatI’dpromisedtogether.
ButwhenCoachletusgolastnightandtoldustogetsomerestforthegametoday,IknewrestwouldbethelastthingI’dfinduntilItoldherhowIfelt.
PartofmewishedI’dbeenwiseenoughtodothislastweek,whenIhadherinmyarmsreadyformetotakeher.Butitwasn’tright,thetimingofit,thefeelingofit.Andmaybethelastsevenagonizingdayswerewhatmadelastnightsosweet.
Shefeltthesame.
Shewantedme,too.
God,justthinkingofhowshe’dwhisperedthatshewasmineonherfrontstoopmademychestsqueezeinamixtureofpossessionandelation.
Itwasenoughtodriveasanemanoutofhismind,tohaveagirllikeGianaopenupforme,letmein,trustmewitheverythingthatshewas,andgiveherselftomeineverywaythatshecould.
Iwouldn’ttakeasecondofitforgranted.
AgarbagetrucksqueakingtoastopoutsidestirredGianaawake,andsheblinkedafewtimes,smackingherlipstogetherbeforehertongueslidouttowetthem.Hereyeswidenedwhenshefoundmestaringbackather.
“Goodmorning,”Isaid.
Sheblinked,andtheninstantlycoveredherheadwiththecomforter.“OhmyGod,lookaway.CloseyoureyessoIcanmakeanescapetothebathroom.”
Thewordsweremuffledunderthecovers,andIchuckled,rippingthemoffherheadbeforeIpulledherintomeandkissedher—long,slow,andwitheveryintenttodoitallmorning.
“You’rebeautiful,”Itoldher.
“NotatsevenAM,I’mnot.”
“Especiallythen,”Iargued,kissinghernose,butIstillheldherinmyarms.“Howareyoufeeling?”
Herresistancefaded,andshemeltedintomyembrace,watchingherfingernailsastheydrewlinesovermybicep.“Amazing,”shewhispered,ablushtingeinghercheeks.“Sore,anddehydrated,”sheaddedwithalaugh.“But…amazing.”
Iintertwinedherhandinmine,pullinghertomylipssoIcouldkisseachofherfingertips.ShewatchedmeasIdid,browsfurrowingevenasasmilebloomedonherlips.
“Thisisreal,”Isaid,hopingIcouldsoothewhateveranxietywasalreadycreepingintohermindinthedaylight.“Youandme,we’rereal.”
Sheletoutalongsigh.“So,itwasn’tadream.”
“Likeyourimaginationcouldcookupsomethingthathot.”
Shesnorted,rollinghereyesbeforesheclimbedontopofme.IlethermaneuverusuntilIwasonmyback,sheonherkneesandsettledintomylap.
“So,whatdoesthismeanforusnow?”
“Whatdoyouwantittomean?”Icountered.
Gianaconsidered,herhandsinterlacedwithmineandfloatinginthespacebetweenusasshepulledhermouthtoonesideinthought.
“Well,”shestarted.“Iguessnotmuchhastochange,doesit?Everyonealreadythinkswe’redating.”
“Correction—alotwillchange.Becauseasifitwasn’thardenoughformetokeepmyhandsoffyouwhenwewerepretending,it’sgoingtobefuckingimpossiblenow.”
Itrailedmyeyesoverherbreasts,visiblethroughthesheerwhitetanktopshe’dthrownonafterourshowerlastnight.Hersleepshortsweresosmalltheybarelycoveredherass,andIbrokemygripwithherhandssoIcouldpalmthatbehindandrollheragainstmyhardeningshaft.
Shebitherlip,rollingherbodytogivemethefrictionIdesired.“Promises,promises,”sheteased.
Igroanedwhenthemiddleofherranalongmyhardlength,pullingherdownsoIcouldwrapmyarmsfullyaroundherandfeelthewarmthofherpressedagainstme.“AsmuchasIwanttowatchyouridemeinthemorninglight,”Isaid,flexingmyhipstoshowjusthowmuchIwantedthat.“Youneedtorestafterlastnight.”
Shepouted,sagginginmyarms.
“Trustme,”Iassuredher.“You’regoingtobemoresoretherethanyourealize.”
“I’mfine,”shesaid.
Igaveheralook,butthen,inamoveofbothselfishneedandstubbornpersistencetoproveIwasright,Isnakedmyfingersuptheinsideofherthighandunderthefabricofhersleepshorts.GianatrembledwhenIranthepadofmythumbagainstherseam,andwhenIpushedjusttheslightestbitagainstherentrance,shehissed,pullingawayfromthetouch.
“See?”Iarchedabrow.
Gianaconcededwithasigh.
“Besides,”Iadded,holdingherinmylap.“Ineedtogetdowntothestadium.Busleavesinanhour.”
Gianablinkedasifcomingoutofahypnosis.“Oh,shit.It’sgameday!”
Shehoppedoffmeinaninstant,scramblingtoherclosetwithonlyaquickglanceatthetimeonherphone.
“Idon’tevenhaveabagpacked.”
“It’sonenight.”
“I’msupposedtobedowntherealready.Wehavetopackupallthegear.”
“Charlottewillmanage,”Ipromisedher,butshekeptsiftingthroughherclothesuntilIgotupandphysicallyhauledherintomyarms,herbacktomychest,sinkingusbothbackdownintothebedwithheronmylap.
“Youbrute,”sheteased,smackingmychest.
“Youloveit.”
“Anothertipyoupickedupfrommybooks?”
“Thosethingsarelikeatreasuremap.Justfollowthetabsandhighlightstofindthepotofgold.”
MyfingerswalkedalongherthighuntilIcouldcupher,andsherolledintothetouch,sighingasherheadfellbackagainstmychest.Foramoment,sherestedthere,andthenshepivotedinmyarmstostraddlemeagain.
“Itwasawfullastnight,”shesaid,browsbendingtogether.“WithShawn.Imean,itwasfine,likeifIwasn’tinmyheadaboutyou,I’msureitwouldhavebeenagreatdate.ButIwassosick,”sheadmitted,shakingherhead.“Whenhekissedme,I—”
“Hekissedyou?”
Theiceinmywordsknockedhersilent.“Y-yes.”
Igrittedmyteeth.“I’llmurderhim.”
“Hey,thiswasourplan,technically.Idon’tthinkwecankillhimfordoingexactlywhatwewantedhimto.”
Iarchedabrowinmybegtodiffer,butGianasmoothedherthumboveritbeforeleaninginforalong,slowkiss.
“Idon’twanthim,”shesaidagainstmylips.“You’vehadmesincethefirstfakekiss.”
Iletoutadeeperexhalewiththat,wrappingherup.“Thatkisswasnotfake.”
Gianaburiedherheadinmychestforonlyamomentbeforeshehoppedoffmylapaltogether,grabbingmebythewristsandtuggingmeup,too.
“Comeon.Wehaveagametowin,”shesaid,tossingmemyt-shirt.Icaughtherwristwhenshedidandpulledherbackintome.
“Ithinkwealreadywon.”
Shesmiledagainstmykiss,lettingmedipherbackbeforesheshovedmeoffagain.
“Shirt.Now,”shesaid,snappingherfingersandpointingattheclothinmyhand.“Youcantryanothertabbedsceneonmelater.”
“Oh,trustme.Iplanto.TheonesyouhighlightedinSatedLove…”
Hercheeksburnedbrightredbeforeshewassmackingmeinthechestandshovingmetowardthefrontdoor.
“Getyourownbreakfast,youbookstealer,”shebarked.
Butthatdidn’tstopherfrommeltingintomewhenIpulledherinforonelastkissonmywayout.
“COMEON,BOYS!HOLD’EM!”
CoachSanders’svoicerangoutovertheroarofthecrowd,almostthirty-thousandpeopleinthestands—mostofthemwearingtheotherteam’scolors.TheWatervilleUniversityBanditswerethelargestinthestate,andtheydrownedouttheNBUstudentswhohaddedicatedthemselvesenoughtomakethedrivefromBostontocheeruson.
Ithadbeenlikethatallfourquarters.
Rainassaultedusyetagainthisgame,onlythistime,itwascoldenoughtoturntosleet,anastymixtureofrainandsnowthatmadetheplayingconditionsabsolutelyhorrendous.IwasalreadysosoreandtiredthatIthoughtmybodywouldrevoltwhenIbentintopositionforthenextplay,trainingmymindonouronegoal.
StoptheBanditsoffensefromgettingthefirstdown.
Theywereonlyupbythreepoints,andwithalittleoveraminutelefttoplay,thatwasenoughtimeforustogettheballdownthefieldfarenoughforRileytokickandtiethegameforovertime.Butiftheygotevenonemorefirstdownhere,they’dbeinfieldgoalrange—andthatwouldputusdownbyatouchdown.
Theballwassnapped,andIfiredofftheline,chasingafterthewidereceiverIwascovering.Ihadhim,nomatterhowhetriedtojukeandbreakaway.Thequarterback’swildeyesashefranticallysearchedthebackfieldtoldmemyteammatesweredoingtheirjobswell.
Therewasnowhereforhimtothrow,andthepoorsuckerranoutoftime.
Oneofourdefendersblastedthroughtheline,wrappingthequarterbackupandtakinghimdowninasackthatmadethestadiumgoquiet,savefortheroaringlittlecornerofitthatwasfilledwithNBUstudents.
Wecelebratedonourwaybacktothesideline,thelosssobigweknewtheywouldn’tdareafieldgoal.Andasourspecialteamsjoggedoutforthekickreception,IguzzleddownwaterandtriedtopreservewhatlittleenergyIhadleftforwhatwasstilltocome.
IttookeveryounceofeffortIhadtokeepmymindonthegameandoffGiana
Thatwasnewforme.FootballhadhadmyfullattentionsinceIwasakid.EvenwhenIwaswithMaliyah,thegirlIthoughtI’dendupmarrying,shefadedeasilytothebackofmymindwhenitwasgametime.
ItwasdifferentwithGiana.
Shewasonthesideline,too,fieldingreportersandcameracrewwithacool,steelreserve.Itshouldn’thavemadesense,howwellshehandledprofessionalsatleastfiveyearsolderthanher,somemorethanthat.Shealsowrangledusasstudentathletes,whichwasakintoherdingcats.Butsomehowoverthelastyearandahalf,she’dfoundhervoice,herconfidence.Shespokeclearerandlouder,knewwhatshewasdoing,andhadtheabilitytolookascoolasacucumberwhileshedidit.
Itwashardnottowatch,toadmire—especiallywhenIalsoknewhowtounravelthatwell-put-togetherwomanwhenitwasjustthetwoofus.
Zekecatchingtheballdownatthetensnappedmebacktothepresent,andIwatchedhimzoomalmostthirtyyardsbeforehewastakendown.IkeptmyfocusonthefieldasHoldenranoutwiththeoffensenext,leadingtheminamyriadofplaysthatgotuswellwithinfieldgoalrange.
Butwedidn’tneedit.
LeoHernandeztookasnapthatshouldhavejustbeenashortrun,buthefoundanopeningandbolted,jukingeverydefenderwhocaughtuptooslowlytodoanythingbutwatchhimflypastthem.
Andjustlikethat,wescoredatouchdownwithmeresecondsleftontheclock
ItwasjustenoughtimeforRileytokicktheextrapoint,andfortheBanditstogetoneHailMaryplayinthatresultedinnothing.
Wewon.
AndIwasconvincedwewerefuckingunstoppable.
Evenalong,pipinghotshowercouldn’tthawmybonesafterafreezingcoldgameinthesleet,butIfeltmarginallybetteronceIwasdressedinmysweats.Theteamwasjovialasweshoweredanddressedandgotreadytogetonthebus,onethatwouldtakeustoourhotelforthenight.Ihadnodoubttheteamwouldbegoingouttocelebrate.
I,ontheotherhand,hadmuchdifferentplans.
“So,whatshitholebararewehittingtonight?”Leoasked,towelaroundhisneckashewaggledhisbrowsatme.
“IfoundonecalledTheLooneyBin,”Rileyanswered,showingherphonewiththereviewsshe’dbeenreading.“Collegebar.Apparentlyprettystrictonfakes,butthat’sneverstoppedusbefore.”
“LookatNovogettinginthespirit,”Leopraised.
“Afterawinlikethat?”Rileythrewathumboverhershoulder.“We’reessentiallyguaranteedabowl.”
“Notjustabowlgame,”Zekeadded,tossinghisarmaroundherbeforehekissedhertemple.“Thebowlgame.”
Istartedbobbingmyhead,drummingoutabeatonthelockersasIdid.“Ship.Ship.Ship.Ship.”
Ichantedanddanceduntiltherestoftheteamjoinedin,andbeforelong,therewerehollersandscreamsringingout,guysstandingonthebenchesorliterallyhangingfromtherafters.Itwasabsolutechaosinthemostincredibleway—thewayonlyateamonthebrinkofgreatnesstrulyunderstood.
Iwaswrappedupinwatchingitallunfoldwhenapairofcoolhandscoveredmyeyes.
Ismiled,readytowhiparoundanddragGianaintomeforakissthatI’dbeendyingtogivehersincethebeginningofthegame.Butitwasn’thervoicethatcooed,“Guesswho?”
ItwasMaliyah’s.
Istiffened,peelingherfingersoffmebeforeIturnedwithaboredexpressiononmyface.
Shewasfreshlyshowered,herlongblondehairinawet,messybunontopofherhead,andoversizedcheersweatscoveringherfromnecktotoe.Despitemynon-enthusiasticgreeting,sheheldawidesmile,bouncingonhertoesabit.
“Greatgame,babe.”
Igrimacedatthenickname,butchosetoignoreitasIturnedbacktomylockerandbeganpackingupmybag.“Thanks.”
“So,whendoIgetthatdate?”sheasked,leaningbetweenmeandthelockertoblockmefromgrabbingmycleats.Ifrownedatfirst,confusedbeforeIrememberedthestupidfuckingteamauction.
“Youdorealizeit’snotarealdate,right?”
“That’swhatIpaidfor,”shearguedasIpolitelyscootedhertothesidesoIcouldfinishgettingmyshittogether.“Besides,wehaven’thadanyrealtimetogethersinceIgottoNBU.”
“Andwhosefaultisthat?”
Herexpressionflattened,butsheshookitoff,forcingasmile.“I’vemissedyou.Itwouldbegoodforustohavesomealonetime.Timetotalk.”
“Idon’thaveanythingtotalktoyouabout.”
“Clay—”
“Look,youcanhavethepicnicvoucherandtakesomeonewhoactuallygivesafuckaboutyou,”Isaid,slammingmylockershutbeforeIshruggedmybagoveroneshoulder.“Oryoucantakemeandwecansitthereinsilence.Yourchoice.”
Ididn’tknowwhyangerwaslickingitswaysofiercelyupmyspine.Maybeitwasmyfather’svoiceinmyear,howhepointedoutthemanipulativetacticsIneverrealizedsheusedagainstme.OrmaybeitwasGiana,howshemademepromisetoputmyselffirstandnotbeshyaboutit.
Eitherway,Ihadzerointerestinplayingthisgameanylongerwithmyex.
“Ihighlydoubtwe’dsitthereinsilence,”Maliyahcountered,stilltryingtolaughitoff.Isawinhereyesthatshewasabouttoreachoutandtouchme,butbeforeshecould,Iduckedawayandheadedforthedoor.
Shewashotonmyheels.
“Whatthefuckisyourproblem?”shedemanded,catchingmebythearmandturningmetofaceher.IcouldhaveeasilyshruggedheroffifIwantedto,butmaybepartofmewasreadyforthefight.
“Myproblem?”Iaskedincredulously,andIdidn’tcareifhalftheguysleftinthelockerroomhadstoppedcelebratingnowandwereverytunedintoourconversation.Isteppedintoher,toweringoverherasshesankaway.“I’mhappy,Li.”
Ipaused,lettingthosewordssinkinasIbreathedoverher.Hernarrowedeyessoftened,somethinglikepainflashinginthoseblueirises.
“Canyouacceptthatandjust…fuckingletmebehappy?”
Iwaitedforonlyamomenttoseeifshehadanythingtosaytothat,andwhenshedidn’tutteraword,Ijustshookmyheadandturned,leavingherandtherestoftheteambehindasIheadedforthebus.
Iwaiteduntilmostoftheteamhadgoneout,untilallthecoacheshadretiredtotheirroomsandputHoldeninchargeoflettingthemknowifanythingwentwrong.IalmostfeltbadforourQB,ourcaptain,ourmostresponsibleleader.Heworealotofweightonhisshoulders.
Butheworeitproudly.
“Yousureyoudon’twanttocome?”heaskedmeatthedoorofourhotelroom,andIknewhewasaskinglessbecausehewantedmetoparty,andmorebecausehedidn’twanttobealonewiththemotleycrewwecalledateam—especiallyaftersuchawin.
Ismiled.“Sorry,man.I’vegototherplans.”
Holdensmirkedatthat,buthedidn’tmaketoheadout.Hejustwatchedme,hiseyesassessing.
“What?”
Heshrugged.“Nothing.Ijust…I’msorry,aboutwhatIsaidearlierthisseason.AboutGianabeingarebound.Icantellshe’smuchmorethanthatforyou.”
Igrabbedthebackofmyneck.“Well,honestly…youweren’twrong.Atleast,notatfirst.Butnow?”Ishookmyhead.“I’msofargoneforthatgirlit’sfuckingterrifying.”
Holdenlaughed.“Yeah,well,Iwouldn’tknowwhatthatfeelslike.ButItrustyou.AndI’mhappyforyou.”Hepointedatmethen.“Juststayfocusedontheseason,okay?Anddon’tletyourgradesslip.Youcanspendallspringdotingonher,butIneedyouforafewmoremonths.”
“Aye,aye,captain,”Isaidwithasalute.“Youreallyhaveneverbeenlikethiswithagirl?”
“Comeon,Johnson,”hesaid,thumpinghischest.“Youknowfootballistheonlyloveofmylife.”
Iarchedabrow.“Yeah…we’llseehowlongthatlasts.”
Hejustsmiledonhiswayoutthedoor,andassoonashewasgone,ItextedGianatomakesurethecoastwasclear.
Fortunately,shedidn’thavetoshareahotelroomthewaytheguysontheteamdid—sheandRileyweretheonlyonesaffordedthatluxury.EvenwhenCharlottecame,shewastoobougietosharearoomwithanemployee.Butshehadn’tcometothisgameatall,leavingitcompletelyinGiana’shandswhilesheattendedafriend’sweddingontheothersideofthecountry.
That,aloneshouldhavetoldGianaandeveryoneelsehowgoodshewasatherjob.
Isnuckquietlydownthehalltotheelevator,takingittwofloorsuptowhereGiana’sroomwas.SheopenedthedoorbeforeIcouldevenknock,pullingmeinsideandimmediatelymeltingintomyarms.
Herscentinvadedme,hairfreshlyshampooedandsmellinglikeraspberriesasshekissedmedeepandlong.Iinhaledthatkiss,thatwoman,wrappingherupastightlyasIcouldasIblindlywalkedusinsideherroom.
“I’vemissedyou,”shebreathedagainstmylips.
“Yousawmethismorning.Andallgame.”
“Shutupandtellmeyou’vemissedme,too.”
Ichuckled,stillkissingherasIlaidherinthebed,andeverythingaboutherwascomfortableandpure.Herwethair,herwarmskin,heroversizedt-shirtandtinysleepshortsthatIlovedsomuch—itallfeltlikehome.
Shefeltlikehome.
“I’vemissedyou,too,”Imurmured,slidingbetweenherlegsandframingherwithmybicepsonthebed.“I’vemissedyoursmile,”Isaid,kissingherlips.“Andyourlaugh.”Anotherkissasshelaughedtoappeaseme.“Andthefeelofyouwrappedaroundme.”
Shetookthecue,ankleshookingbehindmyassasshepulledmedownforadeeperkiss.Hertonguewaseager,meetingmineontheheelsofasoftwhimperassherolledherbodyagainstmine.
Igroaned,pinningherhipsagainstthebedtostopher.“Woman,”Iwarned.
“I’mfine,”sheprotested,fightingagainstmyhold.“It’llhurtforasecond,yes,butIwantit.Iwantyou.”
JesusChrist
HowanymancoulddenyGianaJoneswasbeyondme.
Icertainlywasn’tthemantotry,notwithhergrippingmeandpullingmeintoheranddemandingthatIgivehermore.
Itwasdifferentthanlastnight,ourmovesslowerandsofteraswetookturnsundressingoneanother.Ipepperedkissesdownherabdomenwhenhershirtwasgone,helpingheroutofhersleepshortsbeforeIsettledbetweenherthighsreadytofeast.
Itwasanaddiction,howmybodyhummedtolifeatthesoundofherpleasure.Ireveledinthefactthatitwasmegivingittoher,thatshetwistedherhandsinthesheetsmoreandmorewitheveryswipeofmytongueoverher.
Itookmytime,kissingandlickingandsuckinguntilherpussywassoakedandswollenandachingforrelief.IwantedherniceandwarmandreadyformetohelpcombatthesorenessIknewshewasexperiencingafterherfirsttime.
Whenshestartedspreadingherlegswider,eyessqueezingshutasshechasedherrelease,Islowed,kissingmywaybackuptohermouth.
“No,”shemewled,andIlaughedagainstherlipsbeforerollingussoshewasontop.
“Soimpatient,”Iteased.
Shestraddledmywaist,herslicklipsglidingalongmyshaftwithoutabarrierbetweenus.Webothhissedatthesensation,andbeforeIcouldstopher,Gianarolledherhipstodoitagain,tofeelmeslipbetweenherlipsandteaseherentrance.
Shesank,justaninch,justenoughtofitmycrownatthetightopeningofher.
Enoughforbothofustoseestars.
Igrippedherhipshard,haltingherasIgroanedthrougheveryurgethatbeastinsidemewassignalingtoslamherdownonmycockandfillherup,rawandwithoutrestraint.Somehow,Imanagedabreath,managedtoreachoverforthecondomI’dsatonthenightstandandrollitoverme.
Then,Giana’shandsfoundmychest,andIheldmyselfsteadyforherassheslowlylowereddown.
Whenthetipofmesankinsideher,webothmoaned,hernailsdiggingintomyfleshasIgrippedherassinequalmeasure.Ihelpedlifther,justalittlebeforeshesankdownevenmore.
“OhGod,”shebreathed,rollingherhipsassherepeatedthemotion.“Itfeelssofuckinggoodlikethis.”
Iloosenedmygriponher,lettinghertakecontrolandlettingmyselfappreciatethefullfuckingbeautyofhernakedbodyassherodeme.Sherolleditasshefoundherrhythm,sinkingabitmoreeachtimeuntilfinally,shetookallofmeinsideher.
Shegasped,andIbitbackagroanatthefeelingofherwallsclenchingaroundme.“FuckingChrist,Kitten,”Icursed,mywordsraspedasshepressedupontoherknees,comingallthewayoffbeforeshesankdownagaininonefluidmotion.
“Yes,”shebreathed,eyesflutteringshut.“More.”
Balancingherinmylap,ImaneuvereduntilIwassittingup,mybackagainsttheheadboardasIshovedpillowsoutofourwayandtookherfullyinmylap.Inthenewposition,Icouldopenmythighs,couldtaketheweightofherassherodeandmeetherwiththruststhatdrovemeevendeeperinsideher.
Shetrembledatthedepth,wrappingherarmsaroundmeandkissingmehardasshewoundandrolledandgroundherclitagainstmypelviswitheverythrust.
“Ifuckinglovewhenyouridemycock,”Ihusked,slidingmyhandupbetweenherheavingbreasts.Upandupitwentuntilmyfingerscouldcurlaroundherthroat,mypalmhotagainstheresophagusasIclaimedhergaspformyown.“Youloveit,too,don’tyou,Kitten?”
“Yes,”shewhimpered.
“Showmehowmuchyouloveit,”Icommanded,grippingheralittletighterasmyotherhandhelpedherride.“Ridemycockuntilyoucomesohardyouscreammyfuckingname.”
Itwasalmosttoobrutalforonlyhersecondtimehavingsex,butjustlikeshehadlastnight,shebloomedformeunderthefilthyinstruction,pantingandmoaningmoreandmorewitheverydirtywordIwhisperedinherear.
Sheloveditlikethis,roughandrawandpossessive—andI’dgiveherexactlywhatshewantedforaslongasIhadthepleasure.
Themoresherode,thefasterhermovementsbecame,theharderitwasformetofocusonanythingotherthanherpussyhuggingmycock.ButIstayedfocused,suckinghernippleinmymouthashermovementsbecamemorewildandchaotic.Eventually,shewastryingtomovesofastthatshewasn’tmovingatall,andItookcontrol,holdinghertomeasIpoundedintoheratthepacesheneededforherrelease.
Andshefoundit.
Hercriesbuiltmoreandmoreuntilshewasfull-onscreaming,soloudlythatIclampedahandoverhermouthtodrownthemout.Ididn’tmisshowmynamesoundedinthosemuffledcriesagainstmypalm,andIatethatshitup,fuckingherhardandfastuntilshefellcompletelylimpinmyarms.
“Oh…my…God,”shebreathedwhenIreleasedmygrip.
Ismirked,kissingherhairandhalf-expectinghertostopthen.Iknewshewasspent,knewshehadtobesore,andwithherorgasmnolongersomethingshecouldchaseagainstthepain,Iwouldn’thavefaultedherforwantingtostop.
Butslowly,shebeganridingmeagain.
Herhipsrolled,softmoansescapingfromherlipsassheadjustedtomeagain.Herpussywaseventightersomehow,swollenfromrelease,andIsavoredthewayitfelttoplungeintohereachandeverytime.
“Rollover,”Idemanded,andbeforeshecouldobey,Ididitforher—flippingheroffmeandontoherstomachbeforeIwasstraddlingherfrombehind.Ihikedherhipsuptomeetmypelvis,positioningmyselfatherentrancebeforeIdroveallthewayin.
“Fuuuuck,”shehissed,archingherback.Itookthecuetograbafistfulofherdamphair,holdingontoittightlyandrestrictingherfrommovingherneckbacktoneutral.Ikeptherarched,hereyescastuptotheceilingasIpumpedintoher.
Itwassensational,thewayshefelt,thewayshelooked—completelysatedandyetentirelyfocusedonmakingsureIfoundthesamerelease.HerhungryeyeslookedbackoverhershoulderwhenIfinallyreleasedherhair,bothhandsgrippingherhips,instead,asIwatchedthelipsofherpussysuctiontomycockeachtimeIwithdrew.
“Iwishyoucouldseethisview,”Itoldher,slowingdownandtakingmytimewitheverynewthrust.“Thewayyou’restretchingopenforme,howyourtightlittlepussyhugsmycockeverytimeIpullout.”
“Clay,”shemoaned,andtheninamoveIwasnotexpecting,sheloweredherchestdowntothebedandreachedthroughherlegs,throughmine,untilherfingertipsgentlycaressedmyballs.
ThenoisethatcamefrommewasoneIdidn’trecognize,andIsawawholeuniverseofstarsasshedidthemoveagain.Icouldbarelykeeppace,barelyfocusonanythingwithhertouchingmethere,andwithmoreconfidencewhenIdidn’ttellhertostop,sherolledtheminherpalm,squeezingwithjusttherightamountofpressuretodrivemeovertheedge.
“Ohfuck,Giana.I…I…”
Icouldn’tevenwarnher,couldn’tsayafuckingwordasmyreleasespilledviolentlyfromme,takingeveryounceofawarenessIhadandfocusingonthatoneeuphoricfeeling.Ipoundedintoher,savoringeverythrustofmyreleaselikeitwasthesweetestdrug.
Anditwas.
Shewas.
ItwasthelongestorgasmI’deverhad,onethatcontinuedtoassaultmewithwaveafterwaveevenwhenIwassureitwasover.Ididn’tknowifitwasherhandsonmyballsorjusther,period,butIwassofuckingspentbythetimeIstoppedcoming,itwasallIcoulddotocarefullypulloutofherandrolltotheside,mychestheaving,lungsburningfromtheexercise.
“Holyshit,”Gianasaid,crawlingoveruntilshewaslyingonmychest.“Isit…isitalwayslikethis?”
“Never,”Iansweredhonestly,andIcockedabrowatherbeforewebotheruptedinlaughter.
Ipulledherintomethen,ourlegstanglingtogetherasweheldontoeachotherandtracedlinesonourbareskinasourbreathingslowlycalmed.
Eventually,ourbreathsevenedout,theroomgrowingquieter,morestill.Iranmyfingersthroughherhair,pressingasoftkisstoherforeheadassomethingachinglyforeignpulledatmyheart.
“I’myours,”shewhispered,asifsheknewwheremyspiralwastakingme,howIwaspicturingadaywhenshe’ddecideIwasn’tenoughforher,adaywhenshe’dwalkawayandleavemeinherdust.
Iswallowedagainstthetightnessthatbuiltinmythroatatthenightmarishthought,choosingtofindcomfortinherwordsinsteadofquestioningthetruthofthem.
“AndI’myours,”Iwhisperedback.
Herarmstightenedaroundme,andforonenight,everythingwasperfect.
Weshouldhaveknownitcouldneverstaythatway.Giana
Inallmyfavoritemovies,andinallmyfavoritebooks,there’sthismomentthatIliketocallthecottoncandycloudmoment.
It’susuallyatthebeginning,butsometimesalittletowardtheend,wheneverythingisworkingoutperfectlyforthemaincharacter.They’rehighonlife,everythinggoingtheirway,andtheybearanimpenetrablesmileastheyseeminglyfloatthrougheverydayonacloudoffluffypinkandpurplesugar.Itusuallyhappensrightbeforeeverythingcrashesdown.
Thatwasme.
Iwashavingmycottoncandycloudmoment.
Andtherewasnocrashinsight.
CharlottewassoimpressedaftertheauctionandespeciallybymehandlingourawaygameinMainethatsheofferedtoextendmycontractthroughnextseason—andwiththatcameasigningbonusandaraise.Iwasshockedtosilencewhenshefirsttoldme,butshe’donlysmiledandarchedabrow.
“Yourdeterminationtoproveeveryonewrongaboutyouworked,”shesaid.“Butnow,Iwantyoutoaskyourselfwhatitisyoureallywantfromthis.Andthen,Iwantyoutotakeit.”
Herbeliefinmehadstokedafire,makingmeconsiderallthewaysmycareercouldpanout.Itwasintoxicatingtothinkabout.
ButnothingwasasintoxicatingasClay.
Iwokeupwithhiminmybedalmosteverymorning,andontheonesIdidn’t,hewouldbeatmydoorwithinsecondsofmewaking.Classesdraggedby,practicealwaysseemedtoolong,andevenhappyasIwasinmyjob,Icouldn’twaitfortheworkdaytobedone,fortheinterviewsandpublicityeventstoend.
Icouldn’twaittobebackinhisarms.
Everymomenthespentunravelingmewasecstasy,mybodysinginglikeneverbeforeunderhissymphonicconduction.JustwhenIthoughtI’dfoundmyfavoritewaytohavehimtouchmeorfillme,he’dfindanewway,somethingtoexcitemeandsurprisemeandbringmepleasurenotevenmybookscouldrival.
Andthatwasn’teventhebestpart.
Thebestmomentswerewhenwewerewrappedtogetherintheearlyhoursofthemorning,talkingandlaughinganddiscoveringoneanothermorethanjustphysically.Orwhenwe’dhaveawholeconversationacrossthecrowdedpracticefieldwithjustonesingleglance.Orwhenanxietywouldstarttocreepinforoneofus,andtheotherwouldquicklysootheitwithjusttherightwordsandakisstosealthepromise.
“WhatwouldyouthinkaboutcominghomewithmeforChristmas?”
IblanchedatClay’squestiononemorning,thefirstwordshespokeintheearlylight.
“ToCalifornia?”
Henodded.
Myheartburstathowhelookedatme,withreverenceandatingeoffear.IheldontothatgazeasIcurledintohim,wrappingmyarmsaroundhiswaistandlyingmyheadonhischest.
“Ontwoconditions.”
“Namethem.”
“One,youmeetmydadwhenhecomesinacoupleweeksformysister’sawardceremony.”
“Done.”
Ismiledintohischest.
“Andtwo?”
“Two,”Isaid,drawingacircleonhisstomachwithmyfinger.“Youhavetoteachmehowtosurf.”
“Ican’tsurf.”
“Thenwecanbothlearn.”
“It’llbefreezing.”
Ipeekedupathim.“Ibetwecanfindwaystowarmupafter.”
Hissleepygrinmatchedmine,andthenhekissedme,andIwasthehappiestgirlintheworld.
Everydaywasagift,shinierandmorepromisingthanthelast,andIfloatedonmylittlecottoncandycloudinpure,unbreakablebliss.
EvenwhenMaliyahtriedtoripmeoffandthrowmetothecoldhardearth.
IwasinthestadiumbathroomaboutaweekafterourwinagainsttheBandits,wipingundermyeyesfromwheremymascarahadrun.Ithadbeenalongday,especiallywithKyleRobbinssigningyetanotherdealthatmeantIwascommittedtohelpinghimthroughaphotoshootforasportsdrink.Honestly,Icouldn’tfaulthim.
IfIcouldmakeacouplehundred-thousanddollarsforaphotoshoot,I’ddoit,too.
AsIreappliedmylipstickandtriedtogivemyhairbacksomeofthevolumethatthehumidcoldhadbrought,Maliyahwhippedthroughthedoor.
Shepausedatthesightofme,swallowingashereyestrailedmefromheadtotoe.Iexpectedhertogointooneofthestalls,butinstead,shewalkedstraighttowardthesinks,flickingonthewaterasshebegantowashherhands.
“Longday?”sheasked,archingabrowbutnotreallylookingatme.
Iswallowed,butkeptmyfocusonmyreflection.“Seemslikethey’reallthatwayduringtheseason.”
“Tellmeaboutit.IlongforthedaywhenIcansleepinpastsixagain.”
Shesmiledwiththecomment,andIhadtoactivelyfighttokeeptheconfusionoffmyface.
Wassheactuallytryingtohaveaconversationwithme?
Asshedriedherhands,sheleanedahipagainstthebathroomcounter,facingme.“So…thingswithyouandClayseemprettyserious.”
Oh,God.
Hereitcomes.
Ididn’tknowhowtorespond,soIjustsmiled.
“He’sagoodman,”shesaid,hervoicesofter,browsfoldingtogether.“Ididn’trealizethatuntilitwastoolate.”
“Heis,”Iagreed.
“Andhedeservestobehappy,”sheadded.“It…well,quitefrankly,itinfuriatesmethatyoudothat.Thatyouweren’tjustareboundlikealotofusthought.”
Icouldn’ttellifshewantedtomakemeupsetwiththatlastcomment,butthetruthwasallIcoulddowassmiletomyselfatallthemissingpiecesshe’dneverknow.
Thatnoonewouldeverknow.
“Anyway,IjustwanttoapologizeifI’vecomeoffalittle…bitchy,”shesaidafteramoment.“Iwasthreatenedbyyou.”
Icouldn’thelpthelaughthatbubbledoutofme.“Ican’timaginewhy.”
“NeithercouldIatfirst,”shesaid,unflinchingly.“Butlookwhogottheguy.”
Ipressedmylipstogether.
Maliyahwatchedmeforfartoolong,longenoughthatIconsideredsayinggoodbyeandpushingpasther.ButbeforeIcould,shetookasteptowardme,loweringhervoice.
“Butletmejustbeclear,”shesaid,lookingdownhernoseatme.“Iwanthimtobehappy.I’llleavehimalone.Butthesecondyouslipup,I’llbehere,waiting.”Shesmiled,thecurlofherlipsmakingmystomachdrop.“AndIpromise,ifIgethimback?”Hereyebrowhikedassheeyedme.“Hewon’trememberyourname,letalonewhyheeverwantedyou.”
Myjawtightened,heartspikingwiththekindoffight-or-flightresponseIimaginemyancestorsusedtofeelwhengettingchasedbyapredator.
ButIremindedmyselfthatIwasn’tdefenseless.
Ihadafuckingswordofatongue.
“AndIpromiseyou,”Isaid,steppinguptoherjustasmuch.“Thatyouwon’tgetthechance.”
Ismiledsweetly,pattingherontheshoulderasIpushedpasther.
EverymoleculeinmewantedtojumpandthrustmyfistintotheairinvictorywhenIswungoutofthatbathroom,butIkeptmycool,walkingslowlyandcalmlyallthewaybacktomyoffice.
Noonecouldknockmeoffmycloud.
IwaspracticallyprancingacrosscampusonthefirstMondayofNovember,thebitterchilloftheairnotenoughtowipethesmilefrommyfaceasIduckedintothecoffeeshopandorderedmyusual.WhenIhadthesteaminglatteinhand,Iturnedforthedoor.
AndranrightintoShawn.
“Whoa,”hesaid,grabbingmyupperarmstosteadymewithagrin.“Easythere,you’regoingtoknocksomeoneoutwithallthesunshineyou’rebouncingaroundwith.”
Ilaughedonabreath,tuckingmycurlsbehindmyearasIrightedmyself.“Hi,”Isaid,andinstantly,mycheeksflushed—notbecauseofthewarmthofthecoffeeshopormylatte,butfromthewayShawnwatchedme,fromhowI’dcompletelyblownhimoffafterthenightathisapartmentwithoutsomuchasatexttoexplainwhy.
Helookedlikeamixbetweenadogthathadbeenkicked,andthepoorsuckerwho’dkickeditandthenregrettedit.
“Hi,”hereplied.
Heslidhishandsintohispockets,eyeswashingovermeashisbrowsbenttogether.
“Youlookgreat,”hesaidafteramoment.“Happy.”
“Iam,”Isaideasily,agenuinesmilefindingmylips.“Ireallyam.”
“Good.”Shawnnodded,rollinghislipstogetheragainstwhathewantedtosaybeforeitburstfree.“Areyou…didyouandClaybreakup?”
“What?”Ifrowned,shakingmyhead.“No.”
“No,”Shawnrepeated,deadpan.“Whatdoyoumean,no?”
“Imean,no,wedidn’tbreakup.We’restilltogetherand…”Ismiled,shakingmyhead.“We’reamazing.”
ShawnlookedlikeI’djustpunchedhiminthestomach.
“Giana,comeon…you’renotstupid.Pleasetellmeyoudon’tbelievewhatyoujustsaid.”
Mybrowsshotupintomyhairline,andIstaredathimincredulouslyforonemomentbeforeIturnedonmyheels.“Wow.Goodbye,Shawn.”
Hefollowedmedespitethefarewellandmyattempttoshuttheglassdoorbehindmebeforehecouldcatchit.
“Heisn’tgoodforyou,heisn’tgoodperiod.”
Ispuntofacehim.“Youdon’tevenknowhim.”
“Iknowhowhetreatsyou,”hesaid,hisnoseflaring,chestpuffinglikehewasmyshiningknightridingintosaveme.“That’senough.”
Ifoughttheurgetolaugh,lettingoutalong,slowsigh.“Shawn,Ipromise—it’snotallthatImadeitseem.Youdon’t—”
“Don’ttellmeIdon’tunderstand.Isawhowhemadeyoucry,howhemadeyoufeelworthlessanddisrespectedwithhismouthonanothergirl’sbodyrightinfrontofyou.”
Ibattledwiththedecisiononwhethertotellhimaboutthewholeruse,butdecideditwasn’tforhim—oranyoneelse—toknow.
“We’veworkedthroughthings,”Ilandedon,reachingouttosqueezeShawn’sforearm.“AndI’msorryIbroughtyouintothesituation.Ishouldn’thave.Itwaswrongofme,andselfish.But…we’reokaynow.We’rebetterthanokay.”
Shawnshookhishead.“Don’tyousee?Thisishowguyslikehimwork.They’llpushandpushyouuntilyou’reontheedgeofleaving,andthenthey’lldowhateverittakestolureyoubackin.It’shimwho’stheselfishone.”
Mydefensesshotup,moreforClaythanformyself.“I’mdonehavingthisconversation.Youdon’tknowhim.Youdon’tknowme,forthatmatter.”
“That’snotformylackoftrying.”
Iblewoutabreath,thoughIcouldn’tdenyhowhiswordsstung.Itwasn’tlikemetoplaygameswithpeople,andthoughIhadn’treallyintendedto—thatwasexactlywhatI’ddonewithhim.
“Ihavetogo,”Isaid.“Takecare,okay?”
Beforehecouldsayanotherword,Iturned,headingtowardthestadiumandleavinghimonthesidewalkoutsidethecafé.Ifeltbadforhim,forthegamewe’dplayedthathadworkedsowell.We’dfooledhimandMaliyahandeveryoneelsearoundus,too.
ButIshookitoff,decidingitwasbettertoleaveallthatinthepast.
AndIcontinuedfloatingon,baskinginmysugary,pastelparadise.Clay
I’dforgottenabouther.
Perhapsthatwasthewrongwaytophraseit,becauseitsoundedlikeIneverthoughtaboutmymom—andIdid.IthoughtabouthowIcouldn’twaittointroducehertoGiana,howdelightedshe’dbewhenItoldherwewerecominghomeforChristmas.IthoughtabouthercookinginthekitchenwithG,teachingherhowtomakeourfavoritesalmoncroquets,andpullingoutoldphotoalbumsofmeasakidwhileIpretendedtobeembarrassed.
ButI’dforgottenaboutherquittingherjobbecauseshethoughtherexwouldtakecareofher.
I’dforgottenhowbeatupshewasmentallyandemotionally,howshewashavingtroubledoingmorethangettingoutofbed,letalonelookingforajob.I’dforgottenaboutherusing,aboutthewayIcouldtellbyherwordsslurringoverthephone.
Maybeitwasbecauseshehadn’tcalledafterthelasttime,whenItookoutastudentloanandsentherenoughmoneytogetthroughatleastamonth,ifnottwo.MaybeitwasbecauseIwantedtoassumethebest,thatshewasokay,thatshewasworkingongettingajobandfindingherself.MaybeitwasbecauseIwassocaughtupinGianathatIsimplyhadn’tthoughtaboutanythingelse.
Regardless,thefactthatI’dforgottenaboutherstruckmelikeafryingpantotheheadwhenherfacelitupmyscreenafterpracticeonaThursdayafternooninearlyNovember.
Mystomachdropped,veinsrunningicycoldasIstaredatthewordMomandfeltthephonevibratinginmyhand.Itwasselfish,howIdidn’twanttoanswerbecauseIdidn’twanttofacehermisery,herpain,hertears.
Andthefactthatonceagain,I’dhavetofindawaytohelpher.
Iwasrunningoutofideas.
Myheartwasheavy,asandpaperknotinmythroatasIslidmythumbacrossthebottomofthescreenandpluggedmyheadphonesin,settingmypacetowardmydormroom.
“Hey,Mom,”Ianswered.“Youokay?”
“Oh,sweetie,”sheansweredonasniff,thewordsgarbledbycrying.
Ibracedmyself.
“I’mmorethanokay.”
Somethingmorelikeconfusion,ratherthanrelief,foundmynextexhale,especiallyasMomcontinuedtocryasIwaitedforhertoexplain.
“We’vebeenblessedwithamiracle,”shesaid.“TheLordhasshinedhisalmightylightuponus.”
Istoppedwalking.“Holyshit,didyouwinthelottery?”
“Language!”Shechastisedwithalaugh.“AndIguessyoucouldsayIdid.”
“Mom,what’sgoingon?”
Icontinuedwalking,hikingmybagupovermyshoulder.
“It’sCory.”
Ifrowned,andthoughIhadnoreasontobeanxious,somethinginsidemewasonhighalert.“Cory?AsinMaliyah’sdad?”
“Theveryone,”sheconfirmed.“Idon’tknowwhathappened.Imean,Maliyahcalledmelastnighttocatchup—whichwassonice,bytheway.Ihaven’treallytalkedtohersinceyoutwosplitup,anditwasjustsolovelytohearfromher.”
Mylipsflattened.“Mm-hmm.”
“Anyway,soweweretalking,andyouknowhowcloseweare.She’salwaysgivenmesuchgreatadvicewhenitcomestomen.”Shepaused.“Shouldbetheotherwayaround,agesconsidered.”
“Mom,”Isaid,draggingherbacktothepoint.
“Well,Iwastellingherabouttherestaurant,andabout…aboutBrandon.”Hervoicecrackedalittlewithhisname.“Andshewasjustsosweet,listeningtomebeingallheartbroken.”Shesniffed.“AndIguessshemusthavetoldherdadaboutthewholething,becausehecalledmeearliertoday.”
Iwaited,heartpickinguppaceinmychestlikeitknewwellbeforeIdidthatsomethingwaswrong.
“He’sgoingtohelpus,baby,”shesaid,alljoythroughhertears.“Hecamebythisafternoonwithacheckforten-thousanddollars.”
“Hewhat?!”
“Iknow!Iknow,”shesaid,likeIwasexcitedwhenthetruthwasIwasfuckingappalled.“Hewantedustohaveenoughtogetthroughtheholidays,soIcouldfocusongettingbetterinsteadofgettingajob.Oh,Ican’ttellyouthereliefitbroughtme.Ifeel…Ifeel…loved.”
Shechokedontheword,allwhileItriedtoforceacalmingbreath.
“He’sagoodman.Agoodfather,”sheadded.“Muchbetterthanyourown.IfI’dhavebeenasmarterwoman,Iwouldhavegoneonadatewithhimwhentheyallcameintomydinerthatnight.”
“Mom.”
“Oh,I’monlyteasing,”shesaid,andIcouldpictureherwavingmeoffevenaswebothknewshewasn’tjoking,notevenalittlebit.
“Idon’tunderstand,”Isaid.“What…whydidhedothis?”
“Becausehe’sagood,Christianman,”shesaid,almostdefensively.“Andbecausehesawsomeonewhoneededhelp,andhehappenstobeinthepositionofhelping.”
Iswallowed.
Corywasagoodman.Hadn’tIjustarguedthatpointtomyfather?Hadn’tIwishedtheverysamethingMomhad,thatitwasCoryinourlifeinsteadofDad?
Sowhywasmystomachcurdlinglikebadmilk?
“Thisisagoodthing,sweetheart.AndIcanpayyoubackforwhatyousent,soyoucanpayoffthatloanbeforeitevenhastimetoaccrueinterest.It’sallworkingout,don’tyousee?”
ButIcouldn’tseeanythingbutred.
BecauseIknewthatwhileCoryhadthemeanstohelpmanypeople,herarelyeverdidwithoutwantingsomethinginreturn.
“Mom,Ineedtogo.”
“Okay,honey.Iloveyou.It’sallgoodnow.I’llbesendingyouacheck,okay?”
Icouldn’tevenmanagetoacknowledgeherfurtherbeforeIwashangingupwithshakinghands,andimmediatelythumbingthroughmycontactsforMaliyah’snumber.Itypedoutatext.
Weneedtotalk.Now.
Thebubblesbouncedonthescreen,thenwentaway.
IgrittedmyteethasImarchedtherestofthewayacrosscampus,andI’djustswungthroughmydormroomdoorwhenmyphonebuzzed.
Ihaveclassuntilsix.Meetafter?
Ionlyrespondedwithathumbsupemojiandmydormnumber,althoughIwasprettysureshealreadyknewit,andthenIpromptlythrewmyphonedown,draggingmyhandsbackthroughmyhairasItriedtofigureoutwhatthehellwasgoingon.Itwasonlyfournow,andIwasgoingtodrivemyselfinsanetryingtopiecethisalltogetherinthetimeIhaduntilMaliyahcouldmeet.
Iwasjustabouttohopintheshower—acoldone—whenmyphonerang.
CoryVailwasthenamestaringbackatme.
Mythroatthickened,andIforcedabreathbeforeanswering.“Hello?”
“Hello,son,”hisdeepvoiceechoedback.“Howareyou?”
Theemotionsthatwarredinsidemethenweretoomuchtobear,acrossbetweenfamilialprideandthewarinessofacorneredanimal.
“I’mhavinganinterestingafternoon,”Ianswered,leavingtheballinhiscourt.
Hechuckled.“Iimagineso.Yourmomsaidshecalledandtoldyou.”
“Shedid.”
Thelinewassilent.
Iclearedmythroat.“Thankyou,sir,for…forhelpingher.”
“Youdon’tsoundparticularlyhappythatIdid.”
Isighed,sinkingintotheoldcouchfrom1972thatwasassignedtoeachathleticdormroom.“Iam.Truly,Iam.Ijust…”
“You’rewonderingwhyIdidit.”
“Frankly?Yes.”
“You’reasmartboy,”heassessed.“Smartman,soontobe.Youknownothingreallycomesforfree.”
Thehaironmyneckprickled.
“Here’sthetruthofit,son—Maliyahhasbeenmiserablethislastmonthorso.Iknowyoucantell.IknowyouknowaswellasIdothatit’sbecauseshemissesyou.”
“Shebrokeupwithme,”Igroundout.
“Irealizethat,”Coryreplied,calmasever.“Butyoungwomendoalotofthingstheyregret.Andasshe’smydaughter,it’smyjobasherdadtotrytohelpherundothosewrongsifIcan.”
Ishookmyhead.“Idon’tunderstand.”
“It’ssimple.Itakecareofyourmom,”hesaid.“Andyoutakecareofmygirl.It’saseasyasthat.”
“No.”
“No?”Cory’squestionbacktomewasincredulous.
“It’snoteasy,formorereasonsthanone.Idon’twanttotakecareofMaliyahanymore,”Iansweredhonestly.“Andshemadeitclearthatshedoesn’twantme.”
“Andclearly,shelied.”
“Well,that’sonher.I’vemovedon.I’mwithsomeoneelsenow.”
“Ithinkwhoeveritisyou’rewithcan’tpossiblyhaveasmuchofaconnectionasyouandLinow,”hesaid,laughinglikeIwasachildtryingtoexplainsomethingIknewnothingabout.“Youtwogrewuptogether.Youwereinarelationshipforyears.Youcan’thavebeenwiththisnewpersonformorethan,what…afewmonths?”
“WhatGianaandIhaveisnoneofyourbusiness,respectfully.”
Myneckburnedwithanger,butIheldmyvoicesteadyandascalmasIcould.
“Fairenough,”hesaidafteramoment.“Well,myboy,thechoiceisyours.ButifIwereinyourshoes,Iknowwhatminewouldbe.”Therewasthesoundofpapersshufflingbeforehecontinued.“Youcantakemyoffer,oryoucancontinueputtingyourselfintodebttohaphazardlypatchupaholeintheboatwithoutactuallyfixingtheproblem.”
Ifrowned.
“Sheneedsrehab,Clay,”hesaid,hisvoicelower,moreserious.
Iclosedmyeyesagainstthetearsthatsearedmyeyesathiswords,atthetruthinthemthatI’dhopedtodenyuntilmydyingday.Mynextinhalewasstiffandfulloffire.
“Idon’texpectyoutoknowaboutthisatyourage.Hell,Idon’twantyoutoknowaboutit.Idon’twantyoutohavetothinkaboutit—whichiswhyI’mtryingto…”Hepaused,likehecaughthimselframbling.“She’safunctioningaddict,son,andsheneedsrealhelp.Icangetherthat.Wecangetherthat.”
Ishookmyhead,eventhoughhecouldn’tseeme,noonecouldseeme.ButIhadtonon-verballycommunicatetothefuckinguniversethatIcouldn’tdothis.
“Iknowit’snotfair.Iknowit’shard.You’retooyoungtohavetomakedecisionslikethis.ButtrustmewhenIsaythisisjustthestartofhardchoicesthatwilllineyourlife.Andwhatyoudecidetodowiththisfirstonewilldefineyouasaman.”
Ichokedonsomethingbetweenalaughandacryforhelp.
“Don’tturnyourbackonyourmom,Clay,”hecontinued,hiswordshittingtheirintendedtargetasmychestcrackedopen.“Iwatchedyourfatherdoit,andIcan’twatchyoudoit,too.Sheneedsyou.Andthisisaseasyasit’sgoingtogettohelpherwhilealsobeingabletokeepwhatyouwant.”Hepaused.“Football.”
Iswallowed,eyesglossingoverasIstaredatthefloor.
“Shehasn’tcashedthecheckyet,”hesaidquietly.“Ijustwanttoremindyouofthat.”
Icesearedmyveins.“So,you’reblackmailingme.”
“I’mmakingyouafairoffer,”hecountered.“Oneyoushouldtake.”
Mynoseflared.
Afteralongpause,Corycontinued.“Thinkonit.I’llgiveyouthenight.Oh,andlet’snottellMaliyahaboutthis,okay?Noneedtoinvolvethewomenweloveinhowthesausagegetsmade.Wecanhandleit.Yes?”
Ididn’tanswer,buthetookmysilenceasaffirmation.
“That’smyboy.Alright,Ineedtorun.We’lltalkinthemorning.”
Withthat,thelinewentdead,andIcollapsedintoaheap,mindracingwitheverythingthathadjustunfoldedinthelasthour.
Andinthatquietdormroom,theweightofresponsibilitycrushedmelikeaboulder.
Hewasright.
Insomanyways,hewasright.
Icouldn’tturnmybackonmymother,butIalsoknewtherewasn’tmuchmoreIcoulddotohelpher.Iwasn’ttheretohelphergetcleanthewayIhadmanytimesinhighschool,nourishingherasshewentthroughalltheuglystagesofwithdrawalbeforefinallyfeelingmorelikeherself.
AndIdidn’thavethefinancialmeanstohelpher,either.
Iwasn’tproyet.Ididn’thaveajob,didn’thavetimetogetajob.Andwithoutthehelpfrommydad,takingoutmoreloanswastheonlyanswer—ifIcouldevengetapprovedforthem.
Panicseizedmychest,butitwasamutedstress,likeIwasalreadydyingandsomeonejusttoldmeasifIdidn’talreadyknow.Ifelteerilycalminsidethatoverwhelm,asifIdeservedthispunishment,asifitwasmyownfaultthatMomwasanaddict,thatshewasinthetroubleshewasin.
EvenifIcouldconvincemyselfitwasn’tmyfault,Icouldn’tdothatifIwalkedawayfromhernow,ifIturnedmybackontheopportunitytoquiteliterallysaveherlife.
Iclosedmyeyes,heartsqueezingsopainfullyIdoubledoverasthecostofthisweighedinonme.
Giana.
Itwouldbeherontheotherendofthisfakerelationship,now—oneIwouldneverbeabletotellherabout.Maliyahwouldneverknowitwasn’treal,either.
Toher,toGiana,toeveryone,itwouldbereal—itwouldbemegettingbacktogetherwithmyexjustliketheythoughtI’ddoallalong.
LikeIoncethoughtI’ddo.
Now,itmademesicktoeventhinkabout.
Ilongedtohavemyownfatherthere,tohavehimtellmewhattodoandactuallybeabletotrustit.Buthewasn’tamanIadmired,amanIwantedtobelike.
Corywas.
Myheadspun,heartcrackingmoreandmorewitheachdevastatingblow.
Ihadnochoice.
Thiswasmymother.Mymother.Thewomanwhostayedwithme,whokeptmeinthefaceofeveryodd,whoprovidedformeandsupportedmeandbelievedinmeandlovedme
Icouldn’tleavehertofendforherself.
Itdidn’tmatterifGianawouldneverunderstand,ifnoonewould.ThiswasthechoiceIhadtomakenotonlyasaman,butasason.
Shedependedonme.
Andunlikemyfather,Iwouldn’tletherdown.
Nomatterthepainandhellitwouldcauseme.Giana
Ihadentirelytoomuchhairtobewhippingitaroundinsuchapassionateshowofheadbanging,butIdidn’tcare.
MycurlsbouncedandflewaroundmeasIdancedandsangtoLizzoontheFridaynightbeforeourhomegameagainsttheHawks,glassesslidingdownthebridgeofmynosewitheverypumpofmyhips.Thespatulainmyhandwasthemicrophone,thefuzzysocksonmyfeetservingasperfecttwirlingmaterialwhenIsashayedfromthestovetothesinktodraintheangelhairpasta.
Myphonebuzzedwiththenumberthatautomaticallyrangwhensomeonehitthebuttonnexttomyapartmentnumberoutside,lettingmeknowClaywashere.Itappedthecodetolethiminandfeltmysmilegrowingwiderwithoutmeevenwillingitto.Itextedhimrightafter.
Door’sunlocked
ThehomemadevodkasauceI’dputtogetherbubbledprecariouslyonthestove,soIturnedtheheatdownbeforebendingtocheckonthecheesygarlicbreadtoastingintheoven.Thesausagewasalreadydone,coveredinfoilinthemicrowavetokeepitwarm.MyentireapartmentsmelledlikeanItalianheaven,andmystomachgrumbledjustasmyfrontdoorslowlycreakedopen.
Claydidn’tevenstandachanceofanormalgreeting,notbeforeIskippedovertohimandgrabbedhiswrists,pullinghimtherestofthewaythroughthedoorandkickingitclosedwithmyfootbehindus.
Imouthedthewordstothesongjustasmyfavoritepartcameon,andIevenmadealittlehangtengesturewithmyhandasIpretendeditwasashotIwasthrowingbackintimewiththelyrics.Thebeatwasintoxicating,andIpulledClaytothemiddleofmylivingroomfloor,doingalittlespinunderhishandbeforeIlethimgoaltogetherandturnedaroundjustintimetodropitdowninatwerkforhim.
Heshouldhavelaughed.
Heshouldhavebeendancingwithme,beingasillyfoollikewealwaysweretogether.
Attheveryleast,heshouldhavehadhishandsonmeafterthattwerksituation,becauseIknewmyasslookedgoodinthesesweatpants.
Instead,hewatchedmewithalong,expressionlessface,hiseyesfaroffanddistant.
Andmyheartbottomedoutatthesight.
“Shit,”Isaid,runningovertomyphonetopausethesongandpullthevodkasauceofftheburner.Itookthebreadoutoftheovenbeforerushingbacktohim.“What’swrong?Didsomethinghappenatpractice?”MyeyesshotopenwiderwhenIthoughtofthenextpossibility.“OhGod,areyouhurt?Didyougetinjured?”
Igrabbedhimbythearms,takinginthefulllengthofhiminsearchofanythingthatmightbebandagedorbleeding.WhenIdidn’tfindanything,Iletmygazefindhisagain.
Andthemiserystaringbackatmestolemynextbreath.
“Clay…”Iwarned.“Whatisit?You’rescaringme.”
Isaweveryounceofeffortheputintotryingtokeephisfacestraight,intotryingtoremainemotionless.Butslowly,littlebylittle,hegavehimselfaway.Hiseyebrowsbent,nostrilsflaring,bottomlipquiveringjustoncebeforeheblewoutabreathandpulledoutofmygrip.
Istoodthereinhisabsence,feelingthecoolwindofhimbrushingpastme.WhenIturned,hewasfacingthekitchen,hisbacktome,handsclaspedontopofhisheadashisbackmusclesflexedwitheveryhaggardbreath.
“Clay,”Itried,fearpricklingmynerves.
Hestoodtheresilentforsolong,Ialmostsaidhisnameagain.Butthenfinally,hishandsfelltohisside,andhepulledhisshouldersback,holdinghischinhighasheturnedtofacemeoncemore.
“It’sover,G.”
Ifrowned,confusionsparringwiththeanxietynigglingatmybelly.“What’sover?”
Histhroatconstricted.“Us.”
Ilaughed.Itwasautomatic,evenasIfrownedandshookmyheadandfelttearsburningbehindmyeyes.“What?Don’tberidiculous.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
Whenhedidn’tanswer,alllaughterceased.
“Clay,whatareyousayingrightnow?Whatareyou…What…”
EverythingItriedtoaskwascutoffbytheabsoluterefusalofmetoacceptwhathewassaying.Ishookmyhead,overandover,crossingmyarmsovermyselfasIstaredathimandtookinallthepainhewasclearlyfeeling.
“Itwasallagametome,”hesaid,hisvoicestoicandunmoved,eyesglossedover.“I’msorryIusedyou,thatIpretendedlikeIwantedtobewithyou.IhadtodowhatittooktogetMaliyahback.”
Asingletearfellovermycheek,sofastIcouldn’tcatchitwiththeswipeofmyhandthatcametoolate.“GetMaliyahback?”Iechoed.
“Shecameoverlastnight,”hesaid,andthecoldnessinhisvoicemademeshiverlikeatreeinastorm.“Wetalked,andshewantstobetogetheragain.It’swhatIwant,too.I’mjustsorryIpulledyouintothis.”
Myfacewarpedwithbetrayalandemotion,stomachturningsoviolentlyIdoubledoverabitwiththepain.ButthenIstoodagain,staringathimthroughmyblurredvision.
Andagain,hisfa?adeslipped.
Hisbottomliptrembledsobadhewipedhishandoverhisfacetocoverit,andthenhehunghishandsonhishipsandturnedawayfrommeagaintohidetherest.
Inarrowedmyeyesinsuspicion.
AndthenIcharged.
“Bullshit,”Iseethed,shovinghimfrombehind.Hestumbledforwardbeforeturningtofacemejustintimeformetopushhimagain.“ThisisallbullshitandIknowit.Whyareyoudoingthis?Whatthefuckisgoingon,Clay?”
“Ijusttoldyouwhat’sgoingon.Thishasbeenmyplanallalong,”hesaid,voicelouder,andIwatchedashewilledhimselfwithallhismighttobeangry,toglaredownatme—buthefailedpathetically,andtearsfilledhiseyes,fallingoverhischeeksasmyheartbrokewiththesight.
Ireachedoutforhim,swipingthewetnessfromhisfacebeforeIheldhischeeksinmyhands.
“Don’tdothis,”Ibegged.“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingon,butplease,don’tdothis.”
Hisfacetwistedingrief,andheturnedawayfrommebutleanedintomypalm,closinghiseyesandreleasinganotherwaveoftearsbeforehepeeledmyhandsoffhim.
“Ihavetogo,”hewhispered,brushingpastme.
Butbeforehecouldreachthedoor,Irippedhimback.
“Stop!”Iscreamed.“Stopthisrightnow.Lookatme,”Ibegged,grabbinghischininmyhandsandforcinghim.“Lookatyourself.Youdon’tmeanthis.Youdon’tmeananyofit.”Ishookmyhead.“Youdon’t.”
“Please,”hepleaded,andasmoretearsfilledhiseyes,hetriedtopullawayfromme.Ididn’tknowifitwasshamefromcrying,orshamefromwhathewassaying,orboth.“Ican’t.”
“Youcan’twhat?”Iaskeddesperately,tryingtoreadbetweenthelines.
Heshookhishead,freeingmyhandsfromhimbeforehekissedmyfingertipsandletthemgocompletely.“Youdeservetobehappy,Giana.Iwantyoutobehappy.Just…moveon.GobewithShawnand—”
“IDON’TWANTTOBEWITHSHAWN,”Icried,pressingbackintohisspace.Ipushedupontomytoes,wrappedmyarmsaroundhisneckandrefusedtoleaveanydistancebetweenuswhenIwhispered,“Iwanttobewithyou.”
Hecracked,asobbreakingthroughhisveneerasIslammedmymouthoverhis,tastingthefreshtearsthere.Hisarmswrappedfullyaroundme,andhekissedmelikehefuckinghatedme,likeIwastheabsolutebaneofhisexistence.
Andthen,hepushedmeback.
“Ihavetogo,”hesaid,voicecrackingashewentforthedoor.
“Whateveritis,whoeveritisyouthinkyou’rehelping,you’rebreakingthepromiseyoumadetome,”Isaidtohisback,andIknewIwasright,knewI’dstruckanervewhenhestoppedabruptly,hisbackheavingwitheverybreath.
Carefully,Imovedaroundhim,bendingtocatchhisgaze.
“Thepromiseyoumadetoyourself,”Iremindedhim.
Heclosedhiseyes,lettingoutalong,hotexhale.“Ihaveto.”
“Havetowhat?Whatareyoudoing,exactly?”
Buthewouldn’tanswerme.Hejustshookhishead,allhiseffortgoingtowardstranglingtheemotiondesperatelytryingtobreakfree.
Andinaninstant,inasnapofabandIdidn’trealizedwasstretchedsothin,Iwentfromsadandhurttoall-encompassinganger.
“You’reacoward,ClayJohnson,”Iwhispered.
Hiseyessnappedtomine,painladeninthem,butIdidn’tcare.
Hewashurtingme,too.
“You’reacoward,andafool,andthisisn’twhatyouwant,andIknowit.”Ishookmyhead.“Letmein.Tellmewhathappened.Tellmeandwecanfixittogether.”
Clayjuststaredatme,hisnostrilsflaringashiseyeswanderedoverthelengthofmyfacelikehewassavoringeveryinchofitandstoringitinhismemory.
Likehe’dneverseemeagain.
Andthatbrokeme.
“Fine!”Iscreamed,andinamovethatsurprisedbothofus,Ipunchedhimstraightinthechestwithbothofmyfists.“Go!Leave!”
Claytookeveryhit,hiseyesflutteringshut,notsomuchofaflincheachtimemylittlehandsraineddownonhim.
“GobewithMaliyah.Gopretendlikenoneofthismattered,likeIdon’tmatter.”
Heshookhisheadatthat,reachingforme,butIswattedhimaway.
“No.No,don’ttrytotakeitbacknow.”
“Kitten,”hewhisperedinapainedbreath.
“GETOUT!”Iscreamed,hittinghimagainandagainasIshovedhimtowardthedoor.“Ihateyou!Ineverwanttoseeyouagain!Ihateyou!”
Thewordscameoutmoredesperateandgarbledwitheverybreathassobsrippedfreefrommychest,echoingoffeverywallofmyapartment.
“I’msorry,”hewhisperedagainstanotherfloodoftears,tryingtoholdontomeasIpushedandpushed.
“You…”Istopped,meltingintohisarmsashewrappedmeuptight.Ishookandcriedandhedidthesame.“Youbrokemyfuckingheart.”
Silencefelloverus,onelong,stillmoment.
“Ibrokemine,too,”hewhispered.
Andthenhereleasedme.
Igaspedattheloss,butdidn’thavetimetodomorethanreachforhisbackashepulledmyfrontdooropenandflewoutofitwithoutlookingbackatme.
Amangledcryfellfrommylipswhenhewasgone,andIsankdowntothefloor,bonescollapsinginaheapbeforeIhuggedmykneestomychestlikethatwastheonlywaytokeepmyselftogether.
Justlikethat,mycottoncandycloudmomentwasover.
AndnomatterhowIbracedforit,IknewI’dneversurvivethecrashtotheground.Clay
IdraggedmyassintothelockerroomafterourlossagainsttheHawksthenextday,wonderingwhyIdidn’tfeelthesameemotionasmyteammates.
Zekethrewhishelmetintohislockerwithmoreforcethannecessary,theclangofitechoingoffthewallsoftheroom.Rileytriedtosoothehim,butthewaysheshookherheadandhungitbetweenhershoulderstoldmeshewasjustasupset.Kylesatmutelyonthebenchinfrontofhislocker,nophoneinsight,nobraggingonsocialmediaordancingincelebration.AndevenHolden’sjawwastightashestoodinthemiddleofthelockerroomandthoughtofwhattosaytorallyus.
Itwasabrutalbeating,apoorshowingonallourpartsagainstateamweshouldhaveeasilydefeated.
Myteamwasangry.Theyweredisappointed.
I,ontheotherhand,wasjustfuckingnumb.
ItshouldhavebeensomethingIwasusedto,thehollownessinmychest.AftermybreakupwithMaliyah,IthoughtI’dfelttheworstemotionalpainofmylife,thoughtIhadsurvivedtheworstheartbreakI’deverexperience.
Iwantedtolaughatthatnow,butIcouldn’tmusterupanythingthatevenresembledjoy—nomatterhowsarcastic.
Thiswasn’tjustpain.Itwasn’tjustheartbreak.Itwasn’tjustmissingsomeoneandbeingmercilesslyremindedofthemeverywhereyoulookedbymemoriesthatwouldhauntyouforwhatseemedlikeeternity—althoughallthosethingswerepresent.
Thiswasthekindoftortureonlythosewhoputsomeonetheycaredaboutthroughhellknowinglycouldunderstand.
Itwasguilt,andfailure,andrecognitionthatIwasthevillain.Itwassomeoneelse’sbloodonmyhands.ItwasthecrythatIhadtodoit,thattherewasnootherway,weakasitleftmylips.
Mymomwasthehappiestshe’dbeen,notjustsinceBrandonsplit,butsinceDadhad.Corywasputtingherupinafive-starrehabcenterinNorthernCaliforniathatfrequentlyhousedtherichandfamous,andshewastickledpink,notjustatthechanceofrunningintooneofthem,butatreallychanging.
I’mgoingtobeabetterwoman,she’dtoldmeonthephonelastnight,thoughI’dbeentoofuckeduptoreallylisten.Abettermomforyou.
Shewaspackingherbags,gettingreadytoleavetomorrow,achecktorepaytheloanI’dtakenout,andthensome,alreadyinthemailandonitswaytome.
Andeventhoughitwasmymoney,eventhoughitwasmewho’dloanedittoherandthereforedeserveditcomingbacktome—itfeltlikedirtymoney,likeithadbloodonit,too.
You’redoingtherightthing,son
ThosewerethewordsCorysaidoverthephoneyesterdaymorningwhenI’dagreedtohisdealafternothavingsleptorateordoneanythingbutstareatthewallofmybedroom.Icouldalmostimaginehimclappingmeontheshoulderwithpride.
AndIhopedhewasright.Ihopedthiswouldbewhatwasbestformymom,thatIcouldfinallygiveherevenanounceofallthatshe’dgivenmeovermylife.Shehadsacrificedsomuchforme—heryouth,herbody,hertimeandenergy.I’dneverseenherbuysomethingforherself,notinalltheyearssheraisedme,becauseeverydollarshehadeitherwenttobillsortome—mostlysoIcouldplayfootball.
Andso,Iwouldsacrificeforher.Overandoveragain,nomatterhowmuchittook.
Butitdidn’tmakeanyofithurtanyless.
MaliyahlituplikefireworksontheFourthofJulywhenItoldherIwantedtotryagain,andsheconfessedtomehowheartbreakingithadbeentowatchmewithGiana.Itoldheritwasalljustarusetogetherback,andshehadsmiledwiththesatisfactionofknowingshe’dwon.
Itwasanawful,disgustinglie—oneIcouldn’tsealwithanythingmorethanahug,whichIwassurpriseddidn’tmakeMaliyahsuspicious.ItoldherIwantedtotakeitslow.
ThetruthwasthatIcouldn’timagineeverkissinganyonewhowasn’tGianaeveragain.
So,Momwashappy,andMaliyah,andCory,too.
ButIwasmiserable.
AndsowasGiana.
ThatwasenoughformetowonderifI’dmadetherightdecision,afterall.
WhenIclosedmyeyestotrytosleeplastnight,nightmarishvisionsofGianabeatingonmychestkeptmeawake.Icouldhearhercries,seethetearsstaininghercheeksasshebeggedmenottobreakherheart.
Andsheknew,evenwithoutmesayingaword—sheknewitwasn’tmeinthatmoment.
Howsheknew,I’dneverunderstand.ButevenasIstaredatherunwaveringandtoldherwewerefinished,shesomehowfoughtthroughherownpaintotrytoshakemeawake,totrytomakemeputmyselffirst.
Thatwaswhatfuckedmeupthemost,thefactthatevenatmyworst,shesomehowsawthroughitalltomytrueheart.
Butwhatshedidn’tunderstandwasthatthiswasn’taboutstickingupformyselfagainstMaliyah,orevenmyfather.Thiswasaboutcaringfortheonepersonwhohadcaredforme.
Itwasn’tthetimetoputmyselffirst.
Andoneday,IhopedtherewouldcomeatimewhereIcouldtellhereverything,makeherunderstand.
Untilthen,Iwascommittedtomymisery.
“…nextgame.That’swhereourfocusneedstobe.We’renotoutofthisrace—notevenclose.We’reallbutguaranteedabowlgameatthispoint,”HoldensaidasIcameto,realizingI’dmissedthefirsthalfofhisspeech.“Markyourmistakes,fixthem,andcomebackhungryformore.Weallhaveourjobstodo.Winasateam,loseasateam,”hesaid,pausing.“Andfightasateam.”
CoachSanderswatchedthespeechunfoldinthecornerofthelockerroom,hisarmsfolded.Heclearlywasn’thappywithhowthegameplayedout,either,buthelethiscaptaintakefullcontrol.
Allaroundthelockerroom,playersnoddedtheirheads,fiercedeterminationetchedintheirbrowsastheygatheredaroundwhereHoldenhadextendedhishand.Theycovereditwiththeirs,andHolden’seyesmetmine,thesignalformetotakeoverandyelloutoneofourteamchants.
ButIdidn’thaveitinme.
Isniffed,lookingdownatmyhandatthetopofthepile.
“Fightonthree,”Holdensaid.“One,two—”
“Fight!”
Theteam’sresponseechoedaroundusforonlyamomentbeforethegentlemurmuroftalkingandpackingupfilledthespace,someheadingtowardthetrainingroomsorshowers,whileothersoptedtojustgohome.
HoldenwasatmysidebeforeIcouldsomuchasuntiemycleats.
“Let’stakeawalk,”hesaid,andhedidn’twaitformetoconfirmbeforehewassaunteringoutofthelockerroom.
Ibegrudginglyfollowedhim,andsincethefieldwasstillcoveredinfans,playersfromtheotherteam,andthemediacircus,hesteeredmetowardtheweightroom.
“Sit,”hesaid,pointingatabench.WhenIdid,hehunghishandsonhiships,staringatthegroundforamomentbeforehelookedatme.“Whathappened?”
“Idon’t—”
“Idon’tcareifyoudon’twanttotalkaboutit.You’reapartofthisteam,andyou’reabigreasonwhywepulledanLtoday.Youwereshitincoverage,andgivingustwentypercentofyourall,atbest.”
Iwasashamedathowspotonthatassessmentwas.
“So,ascaptain,it’smyjobtofigureoutwhat’sgoingonwhetheryouwantmetoornot.Youcaneithertellmenow,orIcanmakeyourlifealivinghelleverypracticeuntilyoudo.”
Iflattenedmylips.“What,yougoingtomakemerunlaps?”
“Ifthat’swhatittakes.”
Ishookmyhead,balancingmyelbowsonmykneesasmyshouldersdrooped.“It’sfamilyshit.NothingIwanttosharewithanyone—nooffense.”
“Didsomeonedie?”
Ifrownedathim.“What?No.Andthatwasalittleharsh,Cap.”
“Ineedtoknowhowseriousthisis.”
“Why,soyoucanreplaceme?”
Hegavemealookthatechoedhisearliersentiment.
Ifthat’swhatittakes.
Iranahandbackthroughmyhair,sittingupstraightagain.“IbrokeupwithGiana.I’mbackwithMaliyah.Mymomisgoingtorehab.Mydadisapieceofshitwhocouldn’tcarelessaboutanyofit,andifyoupushmeoffmyspot,IsweartoGod,I’llkillyou,Holden,becauseyou’dberippingawaytheonlysourceofjoyIhave.Footballismylifeline,”Isaid,surprisedatthewaymythroattightenedwiththewords.“It’s…it’sallIhaveleft.”
Imethisgazethen,chestheaving,andsomethingsofterwashedoverhisexpressionashewatchedmeinreturn.
“You’rebackwithMaliyah,”hesaid,choosingtoignoretherest.
Isniffed,lookingatthegroundagain.“Yeah.”
“Andthat’swhatyouwant?”
“Yep,”Ilied,standing.“CanIgonow,sergeant,orareyouthrowingmeinthebrig?”
Holdengavemealookthattoldmeheclearlywasn’tamusedbythejoke,butstill,heseemedsatisfiedenoughtostoptorturingme—atleastfortheday.
“Go,”hesaid,wavingmeoff.“GetyourheadrightbeforeMonday.”
Inodded,butbeforeIcouldreachthedoor,hecalledoutagain.
“Anddon’tforgetwe’renotjustyourteam,”hesaid,haltingme.
Iwaited,butdidn’tturn.
“We’reyourfriends.We’refamily.Iknowyou’realwaystheonelendingthehand,Clay,butwecanhelpyou,too.”Hepaused.“Youjusthavetobewillingtoletus.”
Somethingaboutthatsentimentpiercedmelikeahotbladebetweentheribs,soIsimplynoddedtolethimknowI’dheardhimandthenduckedoutthedoor,headingforthelockerroom.
AssoonasIturnedthecorner,shewasthere.
Gianawasdimlylitattheotherendofthehall,herhairinafrazzledmessofabunontopofherheadasshefumbledwiththekeystoherofficewhilebalancinganiPadtuckedunderherarm.Evenfromadistance,Icouldseethebagsunderhereyesthatmirroredmine,theslumpinhershouldersthatremindedmeofthepainI’dcausedher.
Whenthedoorclickedopen,shesighed,andglanceddownthehall.
Shefrozewhenshesawme.
TheburningpaininmychestwaslikeexperiencingeverytackleI’deverbeenvictimofallatonce.Itwasbone-crushingandsoul-stealing,andyetItookeveryhorrendoussecondofitsoIcouldstareatheralittlelonger.
Sheopenedhermouthandtookaminutesteptowardme,butthenstopped,clampingherlipstogetheragain.
Andthensheduckedintotheoffice,slammingthedoorbehindher.
Giana
“YouknowIhatetoseeyoulikethis,”Dadsaid,sippinghisbourbonasIusedmyforktopushthesaladaroundonmyplate.Ithoughtbyatleastmovingitalittle,itwouldlooklikeI’deatensome,buttheheapofsoggyarugulastaringupatmebeggedtodiffer.
Ireleasedmygripontheutensil,sittingbackinmyboothonadefeatedsigh.“Iknow.I’msorry,Dad.”
“Idon’twantyoutobesorryaboutwhatyou’refeeling.Iwantyoutotalktomeaboutitsowecanfigureoutifthere’sawaytofixwhat’shurtingyou.”
“Thereisn’t,”Itoldhim.
Thecornerofhismouthliftedabitevenashisbrowsinchedtogether,hisblackwire-framedglassesshiftingwiththemovement.Heswirledhisglass,takinganothersipbeforehesatitdownandleanedforward.
Myownaquaeyesstaredbackatme,onlyhisweredarker,aswashisskinandhair.Butanyonewhopassedthetablecouldseewewererelated,couldseehowmuchIfavoredhimovermymom.
“Outofyourcontrol,huh?”
Inodded,pickingupmyforkagainjustsoIcouldhavesomethingtodowithmyhands.
Dadthumbedabeatonthetable.“Well,you’reatanagewherelifeisgoingtostartcomingatyoufast.Thisislikelythefirstofmanythingsyou’llencounterthatareoutofyourcontrol.”
“Itdrivesmecrazy,”Iadmitted.“Andit…hurts.”
Isaidthatlastpartsoftly,wincingasmyheartachedwiththatsamefiercepainithadbeenrandomlyassaultingmewithsinceClaybrokeupwithme.
Hebrokeupwithme.
Istillcouldn’tbelieveit.
I’dalwaysthoughtthestagesofgriefwentinorder,butIfoundmyselfbouncingaroundbetweenthemlikeapinball,knockingintodenialonlytoswingovertoangeronmywaydowntodepression.Istillhadn’thitacceptanceyet,though.
PartofmehopedIneverwould,becauseacceptingitwouldmeanitwasreal.
Itstillfeltlikeanightmare,likesomethinghappeningtosomeoneelse.Ikeptstaringatmyphone,willinghimtocallit,willingmyselftopickitupandtexthim.AndwhenIwasn’twishingtorunintohimatthestadium,IwasdebatingifIshouldhandinmyresignationsoIcouldgetoutofthereandneverhavetorunintohimagain.
Ithadbeenrelativelyeasyongamedaytokeepbusy.Evenwiththeloss,Ihadalotofreporterstofield.ButwhenImadeitthroughthecircusanddraggedmyselfbacktomyoffice,Iexpectedhimtobegonealready,orattheveryleast,backinthelockerroom.
Butofcourse,hewasrightthere,staringatmefromtheothersideofthehallasifitwasmewho’dbrokenhim
IwantedtoruntohimasmuchasIwantedtocursehimoutandspitinhiseye.
Iwasamess.
Andwhathurtmemorethananythingwasn’twhathedid,butratherthatIknewtherewasmoretoitthanhewastellingme.Itwaslikehavingthefirstthree-hundredpagesofathriller,onlytohavetheendrippedout,toneverknowwhatsecretsthemaincharacterwaskeepingfromyouallthistime.
EventhoughIknewhewashurtingasbadlyasIwas,hewouldn’tletmein.
WhatmorecouldIdo?
“Thiswouldn’thaveanythingtodowiththeniceyoungmanyouweresoexcitedtointroducemetotoday,wouldit?Theonewhosuddenlycamedownwiththeflu?”
Ididn’tanswer.
Dadreachedover,grabbingmywristandwaitinguntilIdroppedtheforkbeforehepulledmyhandsintohis.“Ican’thelpifyoudon’ttalktome,littlemouse.”
Ishookmyhead.“Ijust…Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.”
“Thebeginningusuallyworksoutnicely.”
Itriedtomirrorhissmile,butitfellflat.
“YouhavetoforgetI’myourdaughterfor,like,thenexttenminutes.”
Dadliftedabrow.“Okay,nowyou’renotleavinguntilyoutellmeeverything.”
AndsoIdid.
Ididn’trealizehowbadlyIneededtoconfideinsomeoneaboutwhathappenedbetweenmeandClayuntilthewordswerespillingfrommelikeanavalanche,fasterandfasteruntilthedustwassothickIcouldn’tspeakthroughit.ItoldhimaboutShawn,aboutthedeal,abouthowClaywantedMaliyahback.Ileftoutthegrittydetailsofexactlyhowweplayedourlittlegame,butIdidn’tholdbackonhowclosewe’dbecome,onhowmuchIknewhecaredaboutme.
HowmuchIcaredabouthim
WhenIfinished,Dadletoutalowwhistle,tappingmyhandinhis.“Well,Ican’tsayIdon’twanttokillthekidforhurtingmybabygirl.”
“Dad.”
“Ialsocan’tsaythatIunderstandwhyyouwouldeveragreetofakedatesomeone,”headded.“Although,someofyourbooktitlesmakemoresensenow.MyFakeBodyguard.”
Ismiledalittleatthat.
“But,”hecontinued.“Ihavetoagreewithyouthatsomethingdoesn’tadduphere.”
“Right?”IleanedforwardasifmyfatherandIwerecrackingopenthecasetogether.“Imean,IthinkIcouldadmititifI’djudgedhischaracterwrong,ifI’dmisreadthesignsandjustletsomeassholejocktakeadvantageofme.”
Dadarchedabrowthatmademeflushandlookaway,choosingnottoelaborateonthat.
“ButIknowhim.Iknowhimmaybebetterthananyofhisteammates.AndIjust…Ican’tbelievethatsuddenly,outofnowhere,hedecidedhewantedtobewithMaliyahagain.Imean,Dad…hewascryingwhenhebrokeupwithme.”
“Guyscry,too,youknow,”hesaidwithasmirk.
“Yes,but…ittakesalot,”Ipointedout.“No?”
Dadnodded.“Yes,usually.Butmaybehewasjustcryingbecauseheknewhewashurtingyou.Hecouldverywellwanttoendtherelationship,butnotwanttobringyoupainintheprocess.”
Ifrowned,deflatingasIrealizedthatwasapossibility.“IguessIhadn’tthoughtofthat.”
Dadpattedmyhand.“Iknowthisishard,littlemouse.Believeitornot,IdatedafewgirlsprettyseriouslybeforeIfoundyourmom.Iknowwhatit’sliketohaveaheartbroken.”
Ifoldedinonmyself,myheartsqueezingpainfullytightinmychestasifcued.
“ButifBonnieRaitttaughtmeanything,it’sthatyoucan’tmakesomeoneloveyouiftheydon’t.”
“Wait,”Isaid.“That’sanAdelesong.”
“Shecoveredit.”
“BonnieRaittdid?”
Dadblinked.“I’mgoingtochoosetoignorethefactthatmydaughterdoesn’tknowwhoBonnieRaittisandgetbacktothematterathand,whichisthis,”hesaid,leaningincloser.Hisblueeyesflashedwithwarmth,asympatheticsmileonthelipsthatmineweremirroredafter.“Atthispoint,itdoesn’tmatterwhatyouthinkyouknowaboutwhatmightbegoingonbehindthescenesforthisboy.Allyouhavetogooffiswhatactuallyhappened,whathetoldyou,andwhatyoudoknowforcertain.”Hepaused.“Helookedyourightintheeyesandtoldyouit’sover.”
Mybottomliptrembled,andDadsqueezedmyhand.
“Atsomepoint,youhavetoacceptthatandmoveforward.I’mnotsayingyouneedtosprint,orthatit’snotgoingtohurteverystepoftheway.Butthat’swhatlifeis,sometimes.It’sjustgettingup,gettingdressed,andputtingonefootinfrontoftheotheruntiloneday…thepainfades.Andyouknowwhatelse?”
“What?”Iwhispered.
“Lifehasafunnywayofsurprisingusandbringingussomethingevenbetterdowntheline.”
Iswallowed,nodding,tryingtofindsolaceinhiswords.“I…IthinkIlovehim,Dad.”
Mywordsbrokeattheendoftheconfession,tearsblurringmyeyesasIglancedupatmyfatherwholookedlikeI’djustfallenoffacliffrightinfrontofhiseyes.
“Oh,sweetheart,”hesaid,andinaflash,hewasupoutofhissideoftheboothanddippingintomine.
Hewrappedmeupinafiercehug,oneIfeltallthewaytomybonesasIclungtohimandletmyselfcry.
“It’sokaytolovehim.”
“Evenifhedoesn’tlovemeback?”
“That’sthethingaboutlove,”hesaid,kissingmyhair.“Itdoesn’tneedtobereciprocatedtobereal.”
Icouldn’tbesurehowlongwesatthere,DadholdingmewhileIfellapartinahole-in-the-wallrestaurantfullofrowdycollegestudents,butIsavoredeverymomentofthatcomforthebroughtme.
Andthenextmorning,IwokeupwiththesameexcruciatingagonythathadplaguedmesinceClaybrokemyheart.Butthistime,Ididn’tsurrendertoit.Ididn’toveranalyzeeverywordhe’dsaidtome,orreplayallthemomentswespentinmybed.Ididn’tclingtothememoryofhislaugh,orhowIcouldstillclosemyeyesandfeelhishandsonmyface,hislipsonmylips.
Thistime,Igotdressed.
Iputonmyshoes.
Andoneslowstepatatime,Imovedforward.Giana
Aweeklater,IwaitedonthebenchoutsideRum&Roasters,tuckingmypeacoattightaroundmeagainstthechillybreeze.Itwasapoorchoicetowearmytightsandskirttoday,butImissedskirtseason.Iwastiredofwearingsweatersandpants,andIwantedtobreakoutthewhiskersskirt.
ForreasonsIprobablywouldneveradmittoanyone,myselfincluded.
So,Irubbedmylegsthroughthethinfabrictotrytobringalittlewarmth,eyesscanningthestudentswalkingbyforShawn.Assoonashegothere,wecoulddipinsidethecoffeeshopsoIcoulddefrost.
Ididn’tknowexactlywhyIhadfelttheneedtocallhim,toaskhimtomeetup—butsomethingaboutcomingcleanabouteverythingfeltlikeitwouldgivemealittleclosure.Icertainlywasn’tgoingtogetanythingclosetoclosurefromClay,somaybethiswasmyheart’sdesperateattempttotakebacksomeofthecontrolthathadbeenstolenfromme.
Myphonebuzzedinmycoatpocket,andIsighedatthetextonitwhenIpulleditout.
Sorry,runningalittlelate.Betheresoon.
Ithumbedoutareply,butbeforeIcouldsendit,someone’sshadowsweptoverme.
“Cuteskirt,butIdon’tknowhowthehellyou’renotfreezingyourtitsoffrightnow.”
Ifrowned,anglingmyheadupandsquintingthroughthesuntofindasmirkingRileystaringdownatme.
Ismiled,lookingdownatthewhiskersonmylap.“Maybeit’sbecauseIdon’thaveanytitstofreezeoff?”
Rileylaughed.“Scootover.”
Idid,andRileytooktheseatnexttome,loopingherarmthroughmineandinstantlywarmingmewithherbodyheatthroughthemuchmorecomfortableathleticsweatsshewaswearing.Igaveasmallsighofcontent,bothattheheatandatthecomfortshebrought.
“Whatareyoudoingsittinginthecold,weirdo?”
Ichuckled.“Waitingforsomeone.”
“Clay?”
Hisnamesuckedthesmileoffmyfacelikeavacuum.“No,”Isaid,swallowing.“Justafriend.”
Rileynodded,quietforamomentbeforeasking,“Youevergoingtotellmewhathappenedbetweenyoutwo?”
“IwouldifIknew.”
Shefrowned.“Whatdoesthatmean?”
“Itmeanshe’sbackwithMaliyah,butI…Ijustknowthat’snotwhatheactuallywants.”
“Howdoyouknow?”
Iletoutabreath,eyeingherforamomentbeforeIturnedtofaceherfully,andbecauseIknewhowbigofadealtheyweretoher,Iheldoutmypinky.“Pinkypromiseyouwon’ttellasoulwhatI’mabouttotellyou?”
Hereyeslitup,completeseriousnesswashingoverherasshehookedherdigitaroundmine.“Mylipsaresealed.”
Andwiththatpromise,Ispilledeverything.
NotjusttheversionI’dtoldmydad,whichhadbeensugarcoatedandleftoutmanydetails,butthefullstory.Itoldheraboutouragreement,howithadbeenfakeatfirst—towhichsheperkedupanddeclaredIknewit!Itoldherthatsomehowalongtheway,thingschanged.MycheekstingedredwhenIadmittedthatIwasavirgin,andhowShawnsinginghisstupidsteamysonghadmademepanicandbegClaytohelpmenotbeanymore.
Everything.
Theobservatory,theauction,thedaysandnightswe’dspentwrappedupineachother.
Thebreak.
Icouldn’tfightbackmytearswhenItoldherthatpart,andshesqueezedmyhandinhers,noddinglikesheknewexactlywhatIwasfeeling.AfterwhathappenedbetweenherandZekelastsemester,Ihadnodoubtshereallydid.
“So,likeIsaid,I’dtellyouwhathappenedifIunderstooditmyself,butIdon’t.Hejust…endedit.AndIdon’tcarewhathesaysaboutbeingbackwithMaliyah,Iknowit’snotwhathewants.Ijustdon’tknowwhyhe’sdoingthis.”
“Doyouthinkhefeltbadforhurtingher?Ormaybeshehassomethingonhim!”Rileybounced.“OhmyGod,maybeshe’sasneakycheerleaderdrugdealerandhegotcaughtupinherweb,andnowshehashimbytheballsandhehasnochoice!”
Iblinked.“Okay,Ireadmafiaromancebooksforfun,andnotevenmybrainwentthere.”
Rileyshrugged.“Couldbepossible.Justsaying.”
Ismiled,butitfellquicklyasIshookmyhead,stilltryingtoprocesswhathadbeenplaguingmesinceheleftmyapartmentthatnight.“Idon’tknow.ButmyDadgavemesomeprettysageadvicelastweek.HetoldmeImightnevergettheanswersIneed,”Isaid.“AndthatIneededtomoveon.”
Rileyfrowned.“Whydoesthatmakemewanttocry?”
“Becauseit’sawfulandunfair,”Ianswered.“But…he’sright.Idon’tknowwhatClay’skeepingfromme,whyhedidthis,butallthatreallymattersisthathedidit.Hebrokeupwithme.”Ishrugged.“Asmuchasitkillsme,Ihavetojustacceptthatandfigureoutawaytokeepgoing.”
Rileyshookherhead.“You’restrongerthanIam.”
“Tellthattotheicecream-stainedpajamasandmountainsoftissuelitteringmybedroomrightnow.”
Rileyleanedherheadonmyshoulder,slippingherarmthroughmineagain.“Youlovehim,”shewhispered.
Mythroatconstricted.“Ido.”
“Isn’tittheworst?”
Ichokedonalaughatthat.“Yes,”Iagreed.“Itreally,trulyis.”
Shewasquietforalongmoment,andthenshesqueezedmyarm.“I’mreallysorry.Andalso,reallymadatyoufornottellingmeanyofthis.We’refriends,G.”
“I’mnotreallyusedtohavingfriends,”Iadmitted.
“Well,getusedtoit.Especiallybecauseifyoueverhaveasecretpleasure-festwhereamanactsoutyourdirtiestbookfantasiesagain,Iwanteverysordiddetailasitunfolds.”
Ilaughedatthat,butthenanacutesadnesspiercedmylungs.“God,thatreallywasthemostromanticthinganyonehaseverdoneforme.”
“He’soneofakind,thatboy,”Rileysaidsoftly,andforamoment,wewerebothsilent.Then,shesatup,nudgingme.“Butsoareyou.Andyou’regoingtobeokay,nomatterwhathappensnext.”
“Thankyou,Riley.”
Shesmiled,andthenhereyesflashedsomewherebehindme.“Yourguestishere.”
ShestoodasIturnedtofindShawnheadingourway,hisguitarcaseslungoverhisrightshoulder.Hegavemeatentativewavewhenhesawme,andIstoodtojoinRiley.
“Thankyoufortellingme,”shesaid,andthenwithanodatShawn,sheadded,“Andgoodluck.”
Withafiercehug,shewasgone—justintimeforShawntostopattheedgeofthebench.
Ismiled,gesturingtowardthecafé.“Shallwe?”
Itwasanawkwardquietaswestoodinlineandgotcoffee,andShawnfoundanemptytablerightinthecenteroftheshoponcewehadourdrinksinhand.Hesatfirst,anglinghisguitaragainstthetable,andItooktheseatacrossfromhim.
“Thanksformeetingme.”
Henodded.“Howareyou?”
“I’m…”Ipaused.“Awful,honestly,”Iadmitted,butitwaswithasmile.“ButI’llbeokay.Eventually.”
“Isthatwhyyoucalledme?Totalk?”
“Yes,butnotreallyaboutme.Well,kindof.”Ishookmyhead.“Ijust…there’ssomethingIwantyoutoknow.Somethingyoudeservetoknow.”
Shawncockedabrow,andwithonelastsipofmycoffeeandadeepbreath,ItoldhimaboutthedealI’dmadewithClayinthisverycoffeeshop,aboutthepartShawnplayedinourwholerelationship.IleftoutthedetailsI’dtoldRiley,evensomethatI’dtoldmydad,focusinginsteadonapologizingforplayingagamewithhimthathewasn’tevenawareof.
Ithurttheworsttotellhimoutofeveryone,especiallyasIwatchedacoldresolvewashoverhimwhenherealizedeverythingbetweenushadbeencarefullyconstrued.WhenIfinished,Iliftedmycoffeetomylips,waitingforhimtoprocess.
Hesighed,runningahandoverhishair.“Well,”hefinallysaid.“Iwon’tlieandsayIdon’twishIwouldhavenoticedyoubeforeClayfakedatedyouandthenconsequentlysweptyouoffyourfeet.”
Ismiled.
“But,”hecontinued,“I’mgladtoknowyounow.”
Hiseyesdancedinthelowlightofthecoffeeshopashesaidit,andIfeltawaveofreliefwashoverme.“Really?”
“Really,”hesaid.“Maybewecouldstartover.”
Panicseizedme,myfacereddening.Ihadn’tthoughtofthisasapossibility,himstillwantingtodateme.Infact,Ithoughthe’dbepissed.Ithoughthe’dcursemeoutandcallmeapsychobeforestormingoutofthecafé.
“Um…”
“Asfriends,”heclarified,leaningforwardonasmirk.
HesmiledevenmorewhenIletoutabreathofrelief,andthenhestood,holdinghisarmsopenforahug.
Istood,too,andslippedintohisgrasp,squeezinghimjustastightlywhenhewrappedmeinhisembrace.
“Friends,”Iagreed.
Ilookedupathimwhenwepulledback,andheshookhishead,archingabrow.“Ican’tbelieveyouplayedmelikeadamnfiddle.”
“Ican’tbelieveyouweretryingtohookupwithsomeonewhohadaboyfriend.”
“Hey,inmydefense,youmadehimseemlikeaprettyshitboyfriend.”
“Fair,”Iconceded,andheslowlyreleasedme,bothofustakingourseatsagain.
“Speakingofwhich…I’msorry.Aboutthebreakup.”
Inodded,lungssqueezingpainfullytightinmychest.“Thankyou.SoamI.”
Andwiththetruthsittingoutintheopenbetweenus,Ifeltamarginalscrapofclosurewrapitselfaroundmybleedingheart.Dadwasright.Itwasn’tgoingtohappenovernight.Iwasn’tgoingtostophurtingorstopmissingClay,notforalong,longtime.
ButIwasstillhere.Iwasstillbreathing,stillliving.
AndIdidn’twanttoshyawayfromthepainasImovedforward.
Itremindedmeofallthatwas,allthepowerfulemotionsI’dfeltwithClayinthetimeourlivesweretangledtogether.Ineverwantedtolosethosestinginglashesofpain,neverwantedtoforgethowitfelttobeheldbyhim,touchedbyhim,kissedbyhim.
Lovedbyhim.
MaybeIdidn’tgettohavehimforever.
ButI’dholdontoeverylittlepieceofhimthathegavemefortherestofmylife.
Andafter,too.
Clay
IwassofuckingtiredofBostonwinter.
Andtechnically,itwasn’tevenwinteryet.Weweresmackdabinthemiddleoffall,butthesleetymixtureofrainandsnowpiercingmyskinliketinybrandingironsdidn’tfeellikefalltome.
InCalifornia,fallmeantcrispeveningsandwarmdays.Itmeantsunshineandclearblueskies.Werarelyeverhadnightsbelowfiftydegrees,andmostdayshoveredsomewhereintheseventies.
Thatwasfootballweathertome.
ButthemasochistswhogrewuphereinNewEngland?Theylovedplayinginthisshit.Itwaswrittenallovertheirfacesaswepracticed—Zekestickingouthistonguewithavictorioussmileafterabigreturn,Rileydoingalittledanceafterknockinginathirty-three-yardfieldgoal.Asforme?Igrumbledthrougheveryminuteofituntilwewerealljoggingintothelockerroomtoshower,allthewhilelongingforthehotshowerthatwaitedinside.
MystrideslowedwhenIsawGiana.
ShewastoofocusedonroundingupafewoftheplayersfortheInstagramLiveshehadscheduledtonoticeme,soItookadvantageofthemoment,watchinghercurlsbounceasifinslowmotionasshepointedanddirectedandbossedeveryonearound.Herskinwasbrighter,eyesstilltiredbutnotlinedwithredthewaytheyhadbeen.Herheadwasheldhigh,focuslockedinonthetaskathandlikeshedidn’thaveanythingelseonhermind.
Shelookedbetterthanshehadinweeks.
AndIknewitwasbecauseofShawn.
MynextinhaleburnedasIrecalledthememorythatwouldbeetchedintomybrainfortherestofmylife.LastSunday,I’dbeencrammingforatestinmyanatomyclassandhadbarelybeenabletokeepmyeyesopen—thanksmostlytomytossingandturningallnight,whichwasmynormalsleeproutinenow.So,inadesperateattempttowranglemyfocus,I’djoggedovertoRum&Roasters.
ButI’dnevermadeitinside.
Throughthewindowsoftheshop,foggyfromthewarmthinsidecombattingthebittercoldoutside,I’dseenher.
InShawn’sarms.
Myheartbottomedoutatthesight,athowsheheldhimtightbeforelookingupathimwithasmilethatusedtobelongtoonlyme.He’dsaidsomethingtomakeherlaugh,andthatwasallIcouldstomachbeforeIhadtotearmygazeawayandjogpast.
She’dmovedon.
God,howIwantedtobehappythatshehad.IwantedtofeelreliefthatIhadn’tbrokenhercompletely,thatShawnwasthereforhertopickupthepiecesI’dleftbehind.Iwantedtofindsolaceintheknowledgethatshewasgoingtobeokay,thathewasgoingtotakecareofher.
Butitonlymademesickwithpossessionanddizzywithrage.
Itwasabetrayal,oneIfeltlikeaswordthroughmystomach—whichIpromptlyemptiedafterIstumbledawayfromthecoffeeshopandfoundatrashcanoffthesidewalkpaththatcircledcampus.
ItwasabeatingIdeserved,oneIshouldn’thavebeenevenalittlesurprisedorupsetby.
Butitfuckingkilledme.
“Hey,”Maliyahsaid,jarringmefrommymemoryandsnappingmyattentionfromGianatoher.Sheslidherarmsaroundmywaist,pressinguponhertoestopeckakisstomylipsbeforeIcouldpullaway.“Greatpractice.Let’sgetinside.I’mfreezing.”
Iswallowed,noddingasItuckedherundermyarmwiththatsamefamiliarnausearollingthroughme.
AndIcaughtGiana’sgazeonourwayin,holdingitasshelookedfrommetoMaliyahandbackagain.ThoseCaribbean-blueeyesburnedaholethroughmeevenfromyardsaway,andIwantedtomemorizethem,tostaresolongIwouldn’tforgettheexactshapeandcolorofthemforaslongasIlived.
Butsheturnedaway,backtowhatshewasdoing—allwithoutasingleounceofemotionshowingthatshecared.
MaybeIhatedtheweatherbecauseitmatchedmymoodsowell.MaybeIlongedforsunshineandclearskiesbecauseIthoughttheycouldactassomekindofmiracledrugthatwouldsnapmeoutofmypathetichaze.
“Let’sgetsushi,”Maliyahsaidwhenwemadeittothelockerroom,releasingmesoshecouldcontinuedownthehalltotheoneforthecheerleaders.“Shower,change,meetbackhere?”
“Sure.”
Shesmiled,butsomethinginhereyeswassadasshetookmein.ShewouldhavehadtohavebeenblindnottoseehowmiserableIwas,nomatterhowIattemptedtofakelikeIwasokayforher,andformymom,andforCory.
“Youokay?”
Imanagedanod.“Justcold.Andtired.”
Hermouthtwistedtotheside.“Youcantalktome,youknow.I…Iknowwehavealotstilltoworkthrough.IknowIhurtyou,thatIbetrayedyourtrust.But…Iknowyou.Probablybetterthananyoneelse.”
Iwantedtorollmyeyesathowwrongshewasaboutthat.
“Icantellwhenyou’renotokay.”
“Ijusthavealotonmymind.”
“Well,wecantalkaboutit.Overdinner.”
Again,alittlenodwasallIoffered.
Sheopenedhermouthlikeshewantedtosaysomethingelse,butthoughtbetterofit.Then,sheturned,makingherwaydownthehallasIslippedintothelockerroom.
Theteamwasusedtomysourattitudebynow.They’dstoppedgivingmehellaboutit,stoppedtryingtopryinformationoutofme,too.Now,theyjustsortofavoidedme,likeIwasaflutheydidn’twanttocatch.
Iquietlyundressed,leavingmyUnderArmourbriefsonuntilImadeittotheshower,mostlyjustforRiley’ssake.Whenitwasjustmeandafewguys,Istrippedtherestofthewaydown,sighingheavilyasthefirstbitofsteaminghotwaterraineddownonme.
Myskinburnedinprotestbeforeitadjusted,andthenmymusclesallrelaxedatonce,andIstoodthereundertheshowerheadcontenttobethatwayforhours.Iranmyfaceunderthewater,squeezingmyeyesshutasthewarmthenvelopedme.
Until,verysuddenly,thewaterrancold.
“Whatthefuck!”
Ireachedoutblindlyforthefaucet,butwasmetwithawett-shirtinstead.Then,inmyblinddisorientation,thewatershutoff,Iwasthrownatowel,andallbutshoveddownuntilIwasonmyasswithmybackagainstthecoldtilewall.
“Coveryouranaconda,”Zekesaid,hisvoiceoneI’drecognizeanywhere.IusedthetoweltowipemyeyescleanbeforeIlaiditovermylapandlookeduptofindhimandHoldenstandingoverme.
“Out,”Holdensaid,snappinghisfingerstothetwootherguyswhohadbeenintheshowerswithme.Theygavemealookthatsaidthoughtsandprayersbeforedippingoutatourcaptain’sorders.
“Whatthehellisgoingon?”Iasked.
“Riley,”Zekecalled,ignoringme,andwherethetwoguyshadjustdisappeared,shepeekedaroundthecorner,makingsureIwascoveredbeforeshewalkedallthewayin.
“Sorryforthebarbarianambush,”Rileysaid,crossingherarmsasshejoinedtheothertwostandingoverme.“Butwedidn’tknowwhatelsetodotogetyoutotalk.”
“Talk?”
“Wewanttoknowwhat’sgoingon,”Holdensaid,fillinginthegaps.“Andnotthebullshitlieorhalf-truthyou’vebeenspittingwhensomeoneisbraveenoughtopressyou.You’renotokay.AndifbeingwithMaliyahwasreallywhatyouwanted,you’dbeoverthefuckingmooninsteadofahumanversionofEeyore.”
Isighed.“IdowanttobewithMaliyah.”
Assoonasthewordswereoffmylips,Rileygavetheguysalook,andtheybothsteppedbackjustintimeforhertoturnthefaucetandmakeicycoldwaterraindownonme.
“Riley!Whatthefuck!”
Iheldupmyarmstoshieldmyselffromit—notthatIreallycould—untilsheturneditoffagain.Thetowelovermylapwassoakednow,andcold.
“You’regettinganicebatheverytimeyousaysomestupidshitlikethat,”shewarned.“SoI’dtryagainifIwereyou.”
Igrowled.“Thisisbullshit,I’mnot—”
Itriedtostand,butZekemetmychestwithafirmhand,pushingmebackagainstthewall.
“Stoptryingtohandlewhateverisgoingonalone,”hesaid,hisvoiceloudandfirm.“Goddamnit,Clay—can’tyouseeyourfriendsareworriedaboutyou?You’vebeenthereforeverysingleoneofusatonepointoranother,”hecontinued,andIlookedbehindhimatwhereRileyandHoldennoddedinagreementbeforemyeyesmetZeke’sagain.“Letushelpyounow.”
Somethingrawandemotionalsnaggedinmythroat,andItoremygazefromthem,lookingattheemptyshowerhallasIswalloweddownwhateveritwasthatwaschokingme.Iwassilentforalongwhile,shakingmyhead,intenttocomebackwithsomesortofargument.
ButIdidn’thaveone.
Instead,Ifinallyrelented,sighingandlettingmyheadfallbackagainstthetile.
“It’salongstory,”Icroaked.
Rileycarefullyloweredherselfdownontothewettilenexttome,notacareintheworldthatitwasgoingtosoakhershortswhenshedid.Shereachedoverandgrabbedmyforearm.
“Wehavetime.”
ZekeandHoldensatdown,too.
“Wecouldmovesomewherethatisn’ttheshower,”Isuggested.
“Notachance,”Rileysaid.“Ineedthatfaucetthreathangingoveryou.Literally.”
Ismirked,thenblewoutabreath,andtoldthemeverything.
IwasshockedathoweasilythewordscameonceIstarted,beginningwiththedealI’dstruckwithGianaandendingwiththenightmarishsceneatherapartment—whichwasthelasttimewe’dspoken.
Allthreeofthemleanedin,listeningintently,andattheendofitall,theyexchangedlooksbeforeHoldenshookhisheadandsaid,“So,youdidallthisforyourmom?”
Inodded.“Iknowitmightnotmakesensetoyou,butshe’s…she’sdonesomuchforme,givenupsomuch…”
“Iunderstandmorethanyou’dthink,”Holdensaid,hisstareseverewhereitheldmine.Buthedidn’telaboratebeforeheadded,“Igetit.She’syourmom.Sheraisedyou.But,man…she’stheparent.She’ssupposedtodothat.”
Ifrowned.“Okay…so?”
“So,you’rethekid.You’reherson.Andasmuchasyouloveherandwanttohelpher,she’sanadultwhoneedstofirsthelpherself.”
“Butshecan’t.Notwithoutme.”
“Yes,shecan,”Rileysaid.“Yourmommadealotofchoicesthatgotherhere.AndIknowyoufeellikeyouneedtofixitforher,butifshedoesn’thavetodotheworkherself?”Rileyshrugged.“Howissheeverreallygoingtolearnthelessonandgrow?”
“Thisisnotyourbattle,”Zekeadded.“Weareallforyouhelpingyourmomifrehabiswhatsheneeds,andwe’llfigureoutawaytogetherthere.Butthis?AcceptingmoneyfromCoryinexchangeforgivingupthegirlwho’smadeyouhappierthanwe’veeverseenyou?”Heshookhishead.“That’snottheanswer.”
“ButwhatelsecanIdo?”Iasked,throwingmyhandsup.“Ialreadytookoutaloan.Ican’tjustkeepdoingthat.Mydadwon’thelp.AndIdon’twanttoenterthedraftearly.”
“That’snothappening,”Holdensaid,asifitwasn’tevenanoptiontoconsider.Zeke’sequallysternglaretoldmehefeltthesame.
“Wewillfigureitout.Justgiveussometimetothink,”Rileysaid.“Anduntilthen,yourmomisanadult.Shecantakecareofherself—thecatchis,youhavetolether.Youhavetotakethecrutchawayandshowherthatshedoesn’tneedit.Shecanwalkonherown.”
“Andifshedoesn’t?Ifshefalls?”
ZekelookedatRileyandthenbackatme.“She’llgetbackup.That’swhatwealldo—wegetbackup,andwetryagain.”
Ishookmyhead,evenastheirwordsstartedtoclearthefoginmyhead.“IalreadyacceptedthatcheckfromCory.Momcashedit.She’sinrehabonhisdime.Andhe…hecaresaboutus,”Isaid,notrealizinghowmuchthathurtuntilthewordswereout.“Inhisownfucked-upway,thisishimshowingthat.”
“Thisishimgettingwhathewants,”Rileyargued.Zekegaveherapointedlookthatmadeherzipherlipsshut,thoughIcouldtellbyhowredhercheekswerethatitwasanefforttokeepfromsayingmore.
“Tellhimyouappreciatehishelpandhisoffer,butthatyou’vechangedyourmind,”Holdensaidcalmly.“Andifhetakesthemoneybackandshehastogobackhome?Again,we’llfigureitout.”
“Andbytheway,Iknowshehurtyouinthepast,butnoneofthisisfairtoMaliyah,”Rileyadded,unabletostayquietanylonger.“YouandCoryarealotalike,Icanseethatjustfromwhatyou’vetoldus.Youbothwanttohelppeopleyoulove.Butthisisn’tthewaytodoit.”Sheshrugged.“Yourmomishurting.SoisMaliyah.They’reprobablyregrettingdecisionsthey’vemadethatledtowheretheyarenow.Butthatdoesn’tmeanyoutakeitonyoutofixitallandmakeeverythingbetter—becausethatonlyleavesthemfeelingemptier.”
“SowhatamIsupposedtodothen?”Ichallenged.
“Justbethereforher,”Rileysaid,shakingherheadasasmilecurledonherlips.“Tellyourmomyouloveherandyouunderstand.Listentoherwhensheneedsit.Supportherwhensheasksforyouradvice.Whenshedecideswhatshewantstodonext,offerwhateverhelpyoucanwithinyourphysical,emotional,mental,andfinancialmeans.”
“Loveherthroughthehardtimewhileremindingheritwon’tlastforever,”Holdenadded,andagain,therewassomethingsosolemninhisgazethatIwonderedifhewasspeakingfromexperience,fromalessonhe’dlearnedhimself.
“Youhavearighttobehappy,Clay,”Rileysaidsoftly.“Andyoudonothavetobeareveryoneelse’sburdens.You’vedoneenoughofthat.”
Iswallowed,headfallingbackasIlookedupattheshowerhead.“Idon’twanttohurther.”
“She’syourmom,”Zekesaidinstantly.“Ifanything,shewillbeproudofyouforsettingboundaries.Shewantsthebestforyou,too.Andshewillbeokay,man.Ipromise.”
Iclosedmyeyes,shakingmyhead,notbecauseIwasrefusingtolisten,butbecauseIhatedhowmucheverythingtheysaidmadesense.MaybeitwassomethingI’dknownallalong,somethingthatswamunderthesurfaceofmyneedtobetheonetofixeverythingformymom,forMaliyah,foranyoneinmylifewhowasintrouble.
“Wherewasallthissageadvicetwoweeksago?”Iwhisperedonasadlaugh.
“Righthere.Youwerejusttoodamnpridefultocometoyourfriendsandaskforhelp,”Rileysaid.
“Fair,”Iadmittedonasigh.Then,Ilookedateachofthem.“Ihearyou.AndI…Iknowyou’reright.”
“Howbadlydidthathurt?”Zeketeasedwithasmirk.
Itriedtosmile,too,butitfellflatasIconsideredeverything.“I’lltalktoCory.AndI’llcallmymom,explaineverything.Maliyahwantstogetsushirightafterthis,soIguessIcanfaceherfirst.Shedeservestoknowthetruth.”
Mystomachcurledatthethought.Itwouldbeback-to-backdisappointmentfromeachperson,butIknewIhadnochoicebuttofacethemessI’dcreated.
“AndGiana?”Rileypressed.
Mychestached.“She’smovedon.”
Rileyfrowned.“Okay,Iloveyou,Clay,buthowstupidareyou?”Sheshookherhead.“Thatgirlisfarfrommovedon.She…”Rileyinhaledabreaththatstoppedhernextword.“Youneedtotalktoher.”
“She’swithShawn,”Isaid,thewordsnearlykillingmeasIcroakedthemout.“I’mtoolate.”
“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Rileyasked.
“IsawthemtogetheronSunday.Theywereatthecoffeeshop.”Iswallowed.“Hewashuggingher,andshewasstaringupathim,laughing.”Ipaused.“Assheshouldbe.Iwanthertobehappy.”
“Oh,cuttheshit,”Rileysaid,abruptlystanding.“She’snotwithShawn,youdummy.Shemetupwithhimtotellhimeverythingthathappened.Sheneededsomesortofclosure—andsheknewitwasn’tcomingfromyou.”
ZekeandHoldenstoodwithherasIshookmyhead,confused.“Howdoyouknowthis?”
Shetiltedherchin.“Don’tworryabouthowIknowit.Whatyouneedtoworryaboutnowishowyoufixthis.”
Myheadwasspinning,andIstoodtojointhem,carefullymaneuveringthetowelsoitstayedcoveringmeuntilIcouldtieitaroundmywaist.
“I…Ican’t.”Isaid.“Ifuckedthisupbeyondrepair.”
“Ugh,youareinfuriating,”Rileysaid,hangingherhandsonherhips.ShelookedatZekenext.“Wereyouthisstupid,too,whenwewerebrokenup?”
“Worse,”heanswered.
Rileyrolledhereyes,thenturnedherfocusbacktome.“Youreadherbooks,didn’tyou?”
Inarrowedmygaze.“Howdoyouknowthat?”
“Answerthequestion.”
“Yes,Ireadherbooks.”
“Okay,well,didyouonlypayattentiontothesexscenes,ordidyoureadtheend?”Shethrewherhandoutatme,asiftheanswerwasfloatingintheairbetweenus.“She’swaitingonyou.She’swaitingforyoutotellherthetruth—whichisthatyoufuckedup,thatyouloveher,thatyou’restupidandyou’resorryandyoucan’tlivewithouther.”Shesmiled.“Thisisthepartwhereyougetthegirl,youidiot.”
“Thegrandgesture,”Zekeadded,andmyeyebrowsshotupasheshruggedmeoff.“What?Iknowhowtoromance,”hesaidindefense.
Ishookmyhead,runningahandbackthroughmyhairashopeflitteddangerouslyinmychest.Iwantedtosnuffitoutlikeaflamenotmeanttobestarted,butitgrewandgrew,ragingintoafull-onforestfireasanideabloomedunderthesmoke.
“Yourwheelsareturning,aren’tthey?”Holdenaskedonasmirk.
Ilookedathim,atRiley,atZeke—atmyfriends,whohadessentiallyrunintoaburningbuildingtosaveme.AndtheamountofgratitudeIfeltwastoomuchtohold,toomuchtospeakintolife—butIhopedtheysawit.Ihopedtheyknew.
“Whatdoyouhaveinmind?”Zekeasked.
“Andmoreimportantly,”Rileyadded.“Howcanwehelp?”Giana
“Leo,Ineedyouinthepressroom—now,”Isaid,tugginghimbyhisgrass-stainedjersey.
HemadeajokethatIdidn’tquitehear,becauseourinternwasscreamingintoherheadpieceabouthowHoldenwasbeingsurroundedonthefieldandcouldn’tbreakloose.
“I’monit,”Isaidintomymic,andthenIreleasedLeo,hopinghewouldmakeittherestofthewaydownthehalltowherewe’dsetupourpressboxbeforeIwasjoggingoutontothefield.
Itwascompletemadness,thekindonlyaThanksgivingDaygamecanbring.
Thekindonlyabowl-clutchinggamecanbring.
Itwaslikewe’dalreadywonthechampionship,howconfettiofourschool’sgoldandbrickredcolorslitteredthefield.Iweavedthroughthestill-buzzingcrowdonmywayouttothefifty-yardline,whereanextensivegroupofcamerasandreportersweregatheredaroundHolden.
“Yeah,we’rejuststayingfocusedandkeepingoureyesonthenextgame,”heansweredasIpushedthroughthewall.
“You’renotthinkingabouttheplayoffbowlgameagainsttheHuskies?”areporterasked,shovingthemicrophonebackinHolden’sface.
“We’llworryaboutthatwhenwegetthere.Fornow,it’sontoNorthCarolina.”
Isteppedin-betweenhimandthecrew.“Ifyoucanallpleasemakeyourwaytothepressroom,wewillhavefullinterviewswiththeplayers,includingLeoHernandezwhoissettingupnow.Holdenwillbeinlater.Thankyou.”
Ididn’twaitforthemtostartshoutingmorequestionsdespitemetellingthemweweredoneonthefieldbeforeIwasusheringHoldenaway—whichwascomical,sincehetoweredovermeandwasatleasttwicemymass.
“Thankyou,”heutteredaswemovedthroughthecrowd.
“Youknow,you’rebiggerthanme.YoucouldhavestoppedthatwaybeforeIdid.”
“Idon’twanttoberude.I’mcaptain.Ifanyoneneedstofieldtherabidreporters,it’sme.”
Ismiled.“You’retoogoodfortheworld,HoldenMoore.”
Whenwefinallygottothetunnelthatledintothestadium,securitywardedoffanyonenotonorwiththeteam.HoldenambledtowardthelockerroomwhileIsetstraightforthepressroom.
Itwasonlymaybesixtyseconds,thatwalkofquiet,butitwasjustenoughtoletmyminddrifttoClay.
Amonth.
It’dbeenalmostamonthsincewebrokeup,andIstillcouldn’tthinkofhimwithoutmyentirebodycurlinginonitself.Iwasn’tlyingaroundbrokenandpathetic,butIwascertainlyfarfrommovedon,farfromforgettinghimorevensomuchasthinkingabouttryingtodatesomeoneelse.
EverytimeIsawhimoutonthefield,myheartwarmedwiththedesiretocheerhimon,tobetheoneherantoafterthegame,theonehesweptintohisarms.Then,I’dhatemyselfforit,anddoeverythingIcouldtoavoidhim—onlytobesickwhenIdidn’tseehimevenmorethanwhenIdid.
IpretendedlikeIdidn’tnoticehimwhenmyeverysensewastunedintohim,somuchsothatIhadmorethanafewquestionsburningintomybrain.OneofthemostpressingwaswhyIhadn’tseenhimwithMaliyahinoveraweeknow.Shenolongerhungontohimaftereverypractice,ortriedtosuckhisfaceoffafteragame.
Theyseemedfriendly,cordial,but…notromantic.
WhyIwassoengrossedinthedetails,Ididn’tknow.MasochismwassomethingIwasbecomingwell-suitedfor,Isupposed.
Buttoday,ithadbeenespeciallyimpossibletoignorehim.
He’dhadquitepossiblythemostmonstergameofhiscareer.Hehadnotoneinterception,nottwo,butthree—andoneofthemheranbackforatouchdown.Hewasonfire,andIknewthereporterswouldbeclamoringtotalktohimafterthat.
Ijustdidn’tknowhowIwouldfindenoughprofessionalismtotalktohimwithoutburstingintotears.
Ishookmyhead,decidingIcoulddealwithitlater.Rightnow,IhadLeotowrangle,andthenanexclusiveinterviewwithRileyandZekethatthey’dpromisedmeifwewontoday.
“Oh,perfect,”IsaidasIroundedthecornerintothepressroom,findingZekeandRileyalreadystandingbackbehindthelogowallwe’derected.IcouldhearLeoansweringquestions,makingtheentireroomlaughasalways.“NowIdon’thavetohuntyoutwodown.Areyoubothreadytogoonnext?”
“Bornready,”Rileysaid,andsheandZekeexchangedalookthatmademysmileslip.
“Whatwasthat?”
“What?”Zekeasked.
Ipointedbetweenthem.“That…lookyoujustgaveeachother.”Ibalked.“Oh,myGod.You’renotabouttodropsomecrazybombonlivetelevision,areyou?Areyouengagedorsomething?”MyheartdroppedasIlookedatRiley.“Fuck,areyoupregnant?”
EventhoughIwhisperedthatlastbit,Riley’seyeswentwideassaucersbeforeshesockedmeinthearm.
“Ow,”Isaid,rubbingthespot.
“Don’tberidiculous,”shesaid.“We’regivingyoutheexclusiveaboutourrelationshiplikewepromisedwewouldallseason.Wejustwantedtomakesurewewerefocusedandcouldsecurethisgamefirst.Anddon’tevenwhisperaboutthingslikethat,”sheadded,notevendaringtospeakthewordpregnantoutloudagain.“You’llstartawholerumorchain.”
Ifrowned,stillrubbingmyarmasIsurveyedthem,butdidn’thavethetimetoprydeeperintowhatevertheywerehidingbeforeCharlottegaveLeothelastquestionsignfrombesidethepodiumstage.
“Okay,you’reup,”Itoldthem,andassoonasLeosteppedofftheplatform,RileyandZeketookhisplace.
Camerasflashedlikemad.
Everyonespokeovereachother,tryingtogetthecouple’sattentionforthefirstquestionasZekeheldoutRiley’schairforhertositbeforehedidthesame.Theysharedanadoringlook,ZekegrabbingRiley’shandandholdingitontopofthelowtableasahundredmoreflashesassaultedthem.
“Joe,”Zekecalledoutfirst,noddingtowardawell-knownreporterfromthelocalsportsstation.Wealwayslikedtoshowhimfavorwhenwecould—mostlybecausethelocalstationcoveredalltheuniversitysports,andbecauseJoewasactuallyanicereporterfocusedmoreonfootballthangossip.
“Riley,youmissedyourfirstfieldgoalattemptinthesecondquarter,butendedupkickingyourlongestoneyetinthethird.Howdidyoucomebackfromthatfirstkickandre-center?”
“I’velearnedovertheyearstonotletonekickgetundermyskinandtojustfocusonstayingconsistent.Everyonehasbadkicks,badthrows,missedcatches—butitdoesn’thavetodefinethegame.”ShesharedaknowinglookwithZekethen.“Besides,whenZekehadthatsixty-two-yardreturnatbeginningofthesecondhalf,IknewIhadtobringmygametoshowhimuporI’dneverheartheendofit.”
Theroomlitupwithlaughter,andthenRileycalledonthenextreporter.
Iwatched,amazed,fromthesideofthestageastheyfieldedeachquestion—andofcourse,theystartedsteeringmoretowardtheirrelationshipthanthegameafterawhile.Theyhandleditalllikepros,givingalittledetailonhowdatingwhileplayingonthesameteamhadbeenwithoutgoingintotoomuchmush.Theycrackedjokes,illustratedtheirrespectforeachotherandtheteam,andwhenthetimingwasright,oneofthemwoulddelivertheperfectsweetlinethathadthewholeroomsmilingattheiryounglove.
Evenme.
Evenwhilemystomachcoiledandchestachedwiththekindofpainthatcanonlycomefromhavingoncehadwhattheydidandlostitjustasfast.
Charlotteateupeveryminuteoftheirinterview,too.Sheleanedin,speakingsoftlysothemicswouldn’tpickherup.“Idon’tknowhowyoumanagedtogetthisinterviewfromthem,butgreatfuckingjob,Jones.”
IbeamedasCharlottegaveZekethesignaltotakeonemorequestion.
Helookedoutoverthehandsraised,thepeoplecallingouthisname,andthenpointedtosomeoneneartheback.
“ClayJohnson,”hesaid.
Andmyheartstopped.
MurmursfelloverthecrowdaseveryheadsnappedinthedirectionofwhereClaywasinthebackoftheroom.Ipeekedathimfrombesidethestage,myviewmostlyblocked,butIcouldspothistoweringfigure,hissolemnfaceashegrabbedanearbychairandclimbedtostandontopofit.
Hewasstillinhisuniform,thewhitejerseystainedwithdirtandgrassandsweat.Hishairwasmattedwithsweat,too,andtheeyeblackhe’dlinedunderhiseyesbeforethegamewassmearednow.
Buthewasstillbreathtakinglyhandsome,ruggedandintoxicatinginthemosteffortlessway.
“Uh,yeah,Iwasjustwondering,”hesaidwhenhewasstandingontopofthechairfully,andheyelledoutthewordsoverthecrowd.“Haveeitherofyoueverdonesomethingreallystupidthatalmostendedyourrelationship?”
Agolfball-sizedknotformedinmythroatatthequestion,atthewaymyheartracedwiththewords.
ZekeandRileysmiledateachother.“Bothofushavemademistakes,”Rileyanswered.“Butweadmitwhenwewerewrong.Andwealwayscomebacktoeachother.”
Theroomshiftedbacktothem,afewpicturessnappedasmorehandswentup,confusedastowhetherthatwasreallythelastquestionornot.
“Iappreciateyousharingthatanswer,”Claysaid,andheadsswiveledagain,confusionwashingovereveryonetryingtofigureoutwhatthehellwasgoingon.
Meincluded.
“Andyouguyshaveareallygreatstory.”
“Aw,thanksClay,”Rileysaid,givingZekegooglyeyesassheleanedintohim.
“Butoursisbetter.”
Myheartstumbled,stoppingaltogetherforalongbreathasClay’seyessnappedtomine.
“Wait…ours?”someoneasked,andtherewasabriefpausebeforethemadness,beforeeverycameraturnedtowardClayandreportersstruggledtofindmicstheycouldholdouttowardhim,sinceallthepressoneswerefocusedonRileyandZekeatthepodium.
“Yes,ours,”Clayconfirmed.“MineandGianaJones’story.”
“Oh,myGod,”Iwhispered,coveringmymouthwithshakinghands.
“Oh,myGod,”Charlotterepeated,thoughhervoicewasfirmer,andfilledwiththedisdainofaPRagentwhoseclienthadgonerogue.
“Youprobablydon’tknowGianaJones,atleast—notbyname.Butshe’sthegorgeousgirlwho’salwayswranglingus,whogetsyouyourinterviewsandpodcastexclusivesandcommercialspots.”Thesideofhismouthtiltedupashefacedeachcamera.“Andshe’smygirlfriend.Atleast,shewas—beforeIscreweditallup.”
Charlottesnappedherfingers,wakingmefrommyhaze.“Gofixthis,”shehissed.
Inodded,boltingfrombehindthestageandsqueezingthroughthecrowdthatgrewthickerandthickeraroundClay.
Clay,whowasnowholdingupasmallbookforeveryonetosee.
“BlindSide,”hesaid,showcasingthesimpleblackcover.“ThestoryofhowIfake-datedthegirlofmydreamsandthenlostherfrombeinganidiot.”
Therewasamixtureoflaughterandthebuzzofquestionsasthecrowdleanedin,makingitevenharderformetoshovethrough.
“Excuseme,excuseme,”Imuttered,shovingaspolitelyasIcould.
Clayopenedthebook,holdingitupandshowingthegodawfulstickfiguresdrawninsideitalongwiththelargetextlikeitwasachildren’sbook.
“Onceuponatime,therewasabeautifulPRprincessnamedGiana,”hesaid,showingthestickfigurewithglassesandcurlyhairwithaheadpieceon.Helickedhisthumbandflippedthepage.“AndadumbsafetynamedClay.”
Thecrowdlaughedatthenextdrawing,whichwasastickfigurewithbeefyarmsinatoo-tightjersey.
“Excuseme,”Isaid,shovingthroughthelastbitofthecrowd.Whentheyparted,someonemurmured,“Ithinkthat’sher,”andbeforeIcouldstopthem,camerasturned.
Towardme.
PaniczippedthroughmeasIfinallyreachedClayjustasheturnedthenextpage.
“ClayandGianamadeadeal—hewouldhelphergettheattentionofthePrinceofRum&Roasters,andshewouldhelphimmakehisex-girlfriendjealous.How?Byagreeingtofakedateeachother.”Heturnedthepage,showingthetwostickfigureslockedinahugaspeoplewatched.“Except,therewasnothingfakeaboutwhattheyfeltforeachother.”
Myheartsqueezed,andasmuchasIwantedtoheartherestofwhateverwasinthatpoorexcuseforabook,Ireachedoutforhisjerseyandtugged.
“Clay,stop.”
Helookeddownatme.“No.”
“Clay,”Iwhisper-threatenedthroughmyteeth,tryingtoremainasprofessionalasIcould.Iturnedtowardthecrowd.“Ifyouallwanttotakeaquickbreak,we’llhaveHoldenMooreinhereintenminutestoanswermorequestions,”Itried.
Noonebudged.
LeastofallClay.
“No,”hesaidagain,hoppingoffthechairanddowntothefloorinfrontofme.Mybreathcaughtashisscentenvelopedme,ashesteppedcloserandcloseruntilwewerechesttochest.
Orrather,chesttoabdomen.
“No,Iwon’tstop.Ican’tstop,Giana.Ican’thideorpretendanymore.Ican’tletmypridekeepmefrombeinghonestandadmittingthatIfuuu—”
Hepaused,anawkwardsmileonhislipsasheamendedhislanguage.
“Messedup.Bad.”
Iswallowed,ribssqueezingpainfullytightaroundmylungs.
“Ihurtyou.IknowIdid.AndIalsoknowthatIdon’tdeservethechancetoexplaineverythingtoyou,toadmitmywrongsandaskforyourforgiveness.”Hisbrowsfoldedtogether.“ButI’mgoingtoanyway.BecauseIloveyou,GianaJones.”
Theroomwasaflutter,camerasflashingandmicrophonesbeingshovedasclosetousastheycouldmanageasClaymovedincloser,onehandmovinguptosweepmyhairoutofmyface.
“Iloveyou,”herepeated,quieterthistime,asifheonlywantedmetohear.“Iloveyoursmuttybooks,andyourweirddocumentaries,andyourobsessionwithorange,processedsnacks.”
Ichokedonsomethingbetweenalaughandasob.
“Ilovethewayyoudress,andthewayyoulightupwhenyoutalkabouttheuniverse,andthewayyousawthrougheverywallItriedtoputbetweenmeandtherestoftheworldandknewwhoIwasevenwhenIdidn’t.”
Heshookhishead,lickinghislipsbeforehecontinued.
“Ilovehowyoubelieveinme,andhowyouburntoproveeveryonewrongwhentheysizeyouuptooquickly.Ilovethatyouchallengeyourself.”Hepaused.“Ilovethatyouchallengeme.”
Ileanedintohispalm,bottomlipquiveringbeforeIbitdowntoholditstill.
“Iloveeverythingaboutyou—bigandsmall,sillyandserious.AndI’msorryIwasanidiotandtriedtoendourstorybeforeitevenhadthechancetobegin.”
Iclosedmyeyes,notevenrealizingthetearsthathadfloodedmyeyesuntilthatmotionreleasedthemandtworivuletsransilentlydownmycheeks.
Claythumbedeachaway.
“IknowIhavealottoexplain,andIpromiseI’lltellyoueverything.Butrightnow,IjustneedyoutoknowthatImighthavebeengoodatpretendingalotinourtimetogether,butIneverfakedthewayIfeltaboutyou.”Histhumbslidacrossmyjaw.“Youhaveownedmyheartsincethefirstfakekiss,Kitten.”
SomethingofalaughleftmeasIopenedmyeyesagain,andClaywaiteduntilIlookedathimbeforeheheldupthebookinhishands.
“Thisbabyneedssomerevision,”hesaid,tryingtosmile,thoughitfellquicklyashiseyessearchedmine,thesamepainIfeltreflectedinthem.“So,whatdoyousay?Wanttorewriteittogether?”
Afewmoretearsslippedquietlydownmycheeks,ClaywipingthemawaybeforetheyhadthechancetoevenhitmyjawlineasIshookmyhead.Myeyesbouncedbetweenhis,heartswellingwiththehopehe’drestored.
Isniffed,grabbingthebookandturningitoverinmyhandsasIsurveyedthehorridcoverandfont.
“Onlyifwestartcompletelyover,”Iwhispered,smilingasIpeekedupathim.“BecausethisistheugliestthingIhaveeverseeninmylife.”
Theroomburstintolaughteratthat,andIhadalmostforgottenaboutthecrowduntilthatmoment.ButIdidn’thavetimetoevenblushbeforeClaytookthebookoutofmyhandanddroppedittotheground.
“Deal,”hebreathed.
Andthenhekissedme.
Hisarmswrappedmeupinafierceembrace,sweepingmeoffmyfeetuntiljustmytoestouchedtheground.Isnakedmyarmsaroundhisneckjustthesame,holdingontightashekissedmebreathlessintheflashinglightsofadozencameras.
“Attaboy!”IheardZekeyell,andtheroomeruptedintoapplause.
Thatbroughtmebacktothemoment,andIflushed,breakingourkissandduckingmyheadintoClay’schestashegrinnedandtuckedmeintohisside.
“Alright,alright,”hesaid,holdinguphisotherhand.“Nomorequestions.Youcanreadallaboutitinourbook.”Helookeddownatmethen.“Ifweeverstopkissinglongenoughtowriteit.”
RileyblewoutaloudwhistleasClaysweptmeupinhisarms,kissingmetoanotherbellowofapplausebeforehewascarryingmethroughthecrowdandoutthedoor.Camerasandcrewtriedtofollowus,butRileyandZekeheldthemoff—alongwithCharlotte,whoturnedandcrossedherarmsoncewe’dshutthedoorthatledintotheteamhallway.
“OhGod,”Isaid,scramblingoutofClay’sarms.“Charlotte,I’msosorry.I—”
“Sorry?”sheasked,severe,andthenaslowsmilespreadonherface.“Forwhat?Makingustheheadline?”
Iblinked.“I…uh…”
“It’sfine,”shesaid,begrudgingly,beforesheturnedandpointedatClay.“Butdon’teverpullthatshitagain.Andyoubothowemeaninterviewwiththereporterofmychoosing.Alongone.”
“Yes,ma’am,”Clayanswered.
Charlottesmirked,wavingahandatmeassheclickedbyinherhighheels.“Gogetaroom,youtwo,beforeyoumakeusallsick.”
IhidmyfaceinClay’schestagain,andthenheusedhisknucklestotiltmychin,wrappingmeinhisarmsbeforeheturnedtofaceZekeandRiley.
“Thanksforhelpingmepullmyheadoutofmyass,”hesaid.
ZekeputhisarmaroundRiley.“Anytime,bro.”
“Youtwowereinonthis?”Iasked,pointingbetweenthem.
“Duh,”Rileyanswered.“Although,don’tblamethosestickfiguresonme.Iofferedtohelpsketchandherefused.”
“Mystickfiguresareamasterpiece,”Claysaid,holdinghisheadhigh.
RileyandIexchangedlooksbeforeallfourofusburstintolaughter.
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidthat,”Isaid,shakingmyheadasIlookedupatClay.MyheartbeatfasterwhenIdid,whenIrealizedhisarmswerearoundmeandweweretogether.
Together
“Ican’tbelieveyou’regivingmethechancetoexplain,”hecountered.
“Speakingofwhich,we’llleaveyoutoit,”Zekesaid,andheandRileygaveawaveoftheirfingersbeforedisappearingdownthehall,leavingmeandClayalone.
Iturnedinhisarms,fingerscrawlinguphischestbeforeIhookedthembehindhisneck.“Isthisreal?”Iasked,chestpainedatthethoughtthatIwasdreaming.
Clayswallowed,nodded,andpulledmeintohim.“I’msorryIevermadeyoudoubtmyfeelingsforyou.I’msorryIhurtyouthewayIdid.”
“Iknewyoudidn’twantto.”
“Iknow,”hesaid,shakinghishead.“Whichiscrazy,bytheway.Howdidyouknow?”
“BecauseIknowyou,”Isaidsimply,searchinghiseyes.“BecauseIloveyou,too.”
Clayblewoutabreath,hisforeheadbendingtomeetmine.“Fuck,itfeelsgoodtohearyousaythat.”
Ismiled,pressinguponmytoestokisshim.Webothinhaleddeeplyatthecontact,savoringthewaythatkissfeltasClayswepthistongueintotastemine.
“Iwanttoknoweverything,”Iwhispered.“Butfirst,Iwantyoutotakemehome.”Giana
“Thatis…alot,”IconfessedafterClaytoldmeeverythingthathadhappened,headonhischestasheidlydrewcirclesonmybarebackwithhisfingertip.Eachnewspiralsentchillsdowntomytoes,andIcurledintohimlikeasatedcat,stillsorebetweenmythighsfromhimravishingmeassoonaswepushedthroughmyapartmentdoor.
Icouldn’tstoptouchinghim.Icouldn’tstopholdingontohimandpressingsoftkissestohisskinandinhalinghisscenttoconvincemyselfthatthiswasreal,thathewashere,thatweweretogether.
“Iknow,”hesaid,fingertiptrailingovermyshoulder.“I’msorryIdidn’tletyouin.YouprobablywouldhavebeenlikeRiley,Zeke,andHoldenandbeenabletotalksomesenseintome.”
Ifrowned.“Idon’tknow.Honestly,ImighthavejustcriedmoreandclungtoyouaslongasIcouldbeforeIhadtoletyougo.”
“Letmego?”
Ileanedupontomyelbow,lookingdownathim.“Iunderstand,Clay.Whatyourmomhasdoneforyouisprecious,andIdon’tfaultyouforwantingtopayherbackforthat,forwantingtogivehereverything—regardlessofwhateverdemonsshemightbefighting.Youloveher,”Isaidonashrug.“AndMommascomebeforegirlfriends.”
Hissmilewassad,browsfurrowing.“Idon’twantanyoneoranythingtocomebetweenus.AndIthinkthat’swhatIforgot.IcangivetotheonesIlovewithoutsacrificingeverythingthatbringsmejoyintheprocess.”Hemadeaface.“Although,IhavenoideawhatI’mgoingtodoforhernow.”
“Isshehome?”
Henodded.“ShewasmorethanunderstandingwhenItoldhereverything.Infact,IsawtheMommaBearcomeoutinher,”headdedwithasmirk.“ShewantedtokillCory.ButItoldherIhadithandled,andshetrustedme.”Hepaused.“OrCory’sdeadrightnowandwejustdon’tknowyet.”
Ichuckled.
“Eitherway,she’shome,andlookingforjobs.She’sproudofme,andlovesme,andunderstands.But…”Heshookhishead.“Iknowshe’sstillnotokay,Giana.Iknowsheneedshelp.Shemightbefineforawhile—findajob,findaguy.Butthecyclealwaysrepeats.”
Istaredatmyhandonhischest.“Whatiftherewasaway,”Iwhispered.
“Awaytowhat?”
“Tohelpyourmomthewayshereallyneedsit.”
Clay’sbrowsperkedup.
“Whatifyoucouldcoverthebillsforawhile,andstillsendhertorehab—maybenotoneasfancy,butaniceone.”
“Ithinkthatwouldbeamazing,”Claysaid,thumbingmycheek.“ButIalsothinkit’simpossible,unlessI’mwillingtotakeoutaprettysizableloan.”
“Notnecessarily.”
ClayeyedmecuriouslyasIsatupfully,crossingmylegsunderme.Heslidupuntilhisbackwastotheheadboard,waiting.
“Wehadasponsorreachouttous,andthey’relookingtodoabigcampaignleadinguptothebowlgamesandchampionship.”
Thecuriosityonhisfacevanished,replacedbyhardstone.“No.”
“Hearmeout,”Isaid,puttingupmyhands.“Itwon’tbelikeaKyleRobbinssituation.”
“Howwoulditbedifferent?”
“Becauseyoudon’twantitforthesamereasons,”Iexplainedeasily.“Anditwouldn’tbeanongoingcommitment.”
“Ineedtobefocusedonthefieldrightnow.We’reonlyamonthawayfrombowlseason.”
“Andyoucanbe.Look,”Isaid,pullinghishandsintomine.“Onecommercial.Oneeventwhereyousignsomesneakers.You’dprobablyhavetowearthemexclusivelyforawhile,butitwouldn’tbeforever.Icanworkoutthetermstobewhateveryou’recomfortablewith.”
Clayfrowned,considering.“Itcanbelikethat?”
“Whenyou’rethebestsafetyinthenation?”Iarchedabrow.“Itcanbelikeanythingyoudemand.”
Hesmirked,leaninghisheadbackagainsttheheadboardashestudiedme.“You’resoundinglikemyagentnow,Kitten.”
“MaybeIwillbeoneday.”
“Isthatsomethingyou’dwanttodo?”
Ishrugged.“Idon’tknow.Maybe.Charlottesaidsomethingtomewhensheextendedmycontract.ShesaidI’dalreadysucceededinprovingpeoplewrongaboutme,butnowshewantedmetoaskmyselfwhatIactuallywantfromthissoIcanreachoutandtakeit.”
Claysatup.“I’mnotkidding,ifyouwantedtobemyagent,I’dtakeyouinaheartbeat.IbetZeke,Riley,andHoldenallwould,too.MaybeevenLeo—iftheshowboatingsonofabitchdoesn’ttrytorepresenthimself.”
Myheartzippedinmychestatthethought,butIwavedhimoff.“Wecantalkaboutthatlater.Rightnow,let’sfocusongettingyourmomthehelpsheneeds.”
Claysighed,pullingonmyhandsuntilIwascollapsingintohisarmsashelaidbackagainsttheheadboardagain.“You’retoogoodtome.”
“No,you’rejustnotusedtobeinginarelationshipwheretheloveandcareisreciprocated.”
“It’sgoingtotakesomegettingusedto.”
“Goodthingwehaveallthetimeintheworld.”
Hesmiled,kissingmyhair.
“Is…isMaliyahokay?”
Clayshookhishead.“Onlyyouwouldaskifmyex-girlfriendisokay.”
“Imean,youtoldhereverything,right?”Ifrowned.“Thatwouldn’tbeeasyforanyonetohear.”
“Itwasn’t,”heagreed,hisgazelostbetweenus.“Shecried,alot,andIheldherandtriedtosootheherasbestIcould.Intheend,though,shesaidsheunderstood.Shesaidshe’dhurtmejustasbadly—whichisn’twrong.Ithinkshewasmostupsetbyherdad,”headmitted.“AndIknowheisn’thappythatItoldherwhathappened.”
“Well,I’mgladyoudid.Shedeservedthetruth.”
“Shedid.And,weirdly…Ifeellikewecouldmaybebefriendsnow.Notclosefriends,”heamendedquickly.“But…friendly.Cordial.Idon’tknowthatIcouldsaythesameforCory,though.Ithinkhisdaysofactingasmystand-indadareover.”
Ismoothedahandoverhisbicep.“Whataboutyourrealdad?”
Heblewoutabreath.“ThatIhaven’tevenbeguntotackleyet.But…Iowehimanapology.IseenowbetterthanIdidwhenIwentoffonhimthathewasjusttryingtohelpme.”
“Tobefair,hecouldshowupalittlemore.”
“Hecould,”Clayagreed.“Maybenow…hewill.”
Ismiled,noddingasIwatchedwheremyfingertipsdrewlinesonhisskin.
“Iamalittlepissedoffatyou,though,”Iadmittedafteramoment.
“Asyoushouldbe.”
“Notforthiswholemess,”Isaid,wavingahandasifitwasonthefootofmybed.“Butyou’veknownforalmosttwoweeksthatyoumessedup,thatyouwantedmeback,andyouwaitedtotellme?”
“Hey,”hesaid,poppinguplongenoughtoleanoverandgrabhisbookoffmynightstand.“Ittakestimetowriteandprintabook,okay?Evenonethisshitty.”
Isnatcheditoutofhishands,smilingasIflippedthrough.“Itreallyishorrendous.”
“Iknow.”
“Butyoudidn’tneedthebooktotellmehowyoufelt,”Ipointedout,peekingupathim.
“Ineededagrandgesture,”heargued.“Icouldn’tjustshowupherewithmytailbetweenmylegs.”
“Youcouldhave.”
“Itwouldn’thavebeennearlyasromantic.”
“Orpublic,”Isaidwithalaugh.
“Noweveryoneknowsyou’remine.”Claygrabbedthebookoutofmyhandsandtosseditasidebeforepinningmeinthesheets,kissingallupanddownmyneckasIlaughedandwriggledundertheticklishtouch.
Afteramoment,hestopped,balancingonhiselbowsaboveme.Hisjadeeyesscannedmyown,andheswallowed,shakinghishead.
“What?”Iasked.
“Ijust…IthoughtI’dlostyou.Forever.IthoughtI’dnevergettobehereagain,holdingyoulikethis,touchingyou,kissingyou.”Hisfacecrumpledinpain.“Iwasmiserablewithoutyou.”
“Idon’twanttotalkabouthowmanybagsofCheetosIate.”
Hesmirked,brushingmyhairoutofmyfacebeforehegentlyremovedmyglassesandsetthemaside.Then,hepulledmeintohim,lipspressingagainstminewithtenderwarmth.
Mybodysparkedtolifeunderthatkiss,underhismassivehandsastheypinnedmyhipsbeneathhim,andherolledintome.Hewasalreadygrowinghardbeneathhisbriefs,andIwhimperedatthefeelofhim,nailsdiggingintohisback.
Allconversationceasedasthosekissesrandeeperanddeeper,untilwewerepantingandmoaningandstrippingwhatlittleclothingwehadputonsinceourfirstround.Whenwewerefullybare,Clayrolledontohisback,helpingmeclimbontohislap.
Exceptthen,hepulledmeuphigher.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Ibreathed.
“Iwantyoutoridemyface.”
Ibalked,butIdidn’thavethechancetoscurryawayorargueagainsthimbeforeheyankedmeup,positioningthebackofmythighsagainsthisshoulders,mypussyhoveringrightoverhisface.Heslidhishandsdownmyribcage,grippingmyassinbothpalmsashepulledmetohim.
AndIhadnochoicebuttoholdon.
Myhandsflewouttofindtheheadboard,andIgrippedhardashenotonlyrolledhistongueagainstme,butusedhishandsonmyasstorollmyhipsagainsthim,too.Backandforth,Igroundagainsthismouthasheswirledandflickedandsuckedandlicked.
Itwasdizzyinginthebestway,andIwasalmostembarrassedathowfastIcameforhim,athowhestayedrightthereandlappedupeverylastsecondofmyrelease.OnlywhenIwasfullysatedandtremblingdidhecarefullyhelpmedismount,andthenherolledmeoverontomystomach,kissingallalongmybackbeforehedisappearedfortheamountoftimeittookhimtograbacondom.
Isawstarswhenheslidinsidemefrombehind,andhehookedmyhips,hikingmeuptoarchforhimashewithdrewbeforeplummetinginsidemeagain.Iwasdesperatetobeclosetohim,soIpressedupontomyknees,onehandreachingbacktohookaroundhisneckwhiletheotherreachedbehindforhisass.
HegroanedwhenIsqueezedhim,pullinghimdeeperintomeasIpressedmyassbackandbeggedformore.Hetrailedkissesalongmyneck,suckingmyearlobebetweenhisteethasImoanedandgroundagainsthim.
“You’remine,GianaJones,”hegrowledintomyear,handcrawlingovermychestuntilitclampeddownovermythroat.Iarchedintoit,gaspinginpleasure.“AndI’mneverlettingyougo.”
Ourfirsttimereconnectingwhenwe’dcomebacktomyapartmentwasfast—desperateandrabidandoverbeforeeitherofushadthechancetotakearealbreath.Butthistime,Claywasslowandpurposefulwitheverythrust.JustwhenIthoughthewasreadytorelease,he’dpullout,kissingmelonganddeepasheswitchedusintoanewposition.
Itwasontheheelsofanotherorgasmformethathefinallycame,too,myanklesonhisshouldersashepumpedouteveryrivuletofhisrelease.Andwhenhecarriedmeintotheshower,mylegstooweaktomoveontheirown,hesankdownunderthestreaminghotwaterandcradledmetohischest.
“Iloveyou,”hewhispered,tiltingmychinup.
“Iloveyou,”Iechoed,threadingmyfingersthroughthewethairatthenapeofhisneck.
Andthenhekissedme,andforthefirsttimeinmylife,Ifeltlikethemaincharacter.
Thiswasmyhappyeverafter.Onemonthlater
Clay
WeallstaredatCoachSandersforafulltwentysecondswithoutanyonesayingaword.
Andthen,itwasfuckingchaos.
“What?!”
“Youcan’tleave.”
“Wejustlostabowlgame.Andnowthisshit?”
“Literallyjustlost.”
“We’reonfire.Whywouldyouleave?”
“Wecan’tdothiswithoutyou!”
Ijustwatchedthecalamityunfold,myheartstuckinmythroatevenasIattemptedtoswallowitdown.OneglanceatHoldenstandingquietandcalminthecornertoldmehewasstillprocessing,too—andlikelytryingtodecidehowaleadershouldreacttothisnews.
Ourheadcoachwasleavingus.
Wewereonthecuspofgreatness,andhewastakingajobintheNFL.
Icouldn’tfaulthim.Hell,Iknewthatwhenitcamedowntoit,noneofuscould.ItwasadreamforalmostallofustoplayintheLeague,andnearlyeverycollegecoachdreamedofthedaytheywereinvitedup.
Butwe’djustlosttheplayoffbowlgameagainstoneofthetopschoolsinthenation.Wewerebeatupfromit,down—butnotout.Ifanything,thatlossonlymadeuswantitmore.
Now,we’dhaveanewcoachtoguidethispackofhungrywolves.
Afterthenoiseeruptedtoanunbearablelevel,CoachSandersheldouthishands,swallowingashewaitedforustocalmdown.
“Iknowthisisn’teasynews,”hesaid.“AndbelievemewhenIsayitwasn’taneasychoiceforme,either.Ihavebeenherewithyoueverystepoftheway.I’mproudofwhatI’vebuilthere—ofwhatwehavebuilttogether.AndIhaveabsolutelynodoubtinmymindthatitwillbeyouholdingupthatchampionshiptrophynextyear.ItgutsmethatIwon’tbethereholdingitupwithyou.”
Myeyeswatered,andIsniffed,internallycursingasIhidmyfacefromtheteam.
“Youdon’tneedme.”
Therewereseveralshoutsofdisagreement,butCoachhelduphishandsagain.
“Youdon’t.Youcandothis—whetherit’swithmeoranothercoachoronyourown.You’restrong.You’rediligent.You’rededicated.Andyou’retalented.”Henodded,lookingeachofusintheeye.“Neverforgetthat.Neverstopfighting.Andneverforgetthatevenacrossthecountry,I’minyourcorner,andIbelieveinyou.”
Thesadnessinthelockerroomwassopalpable,Icouldtasteit.We’djustdraggedourassesoffthefieldafterabowlloss,andnow,evenworsenewshitusupsidetheheadunexpectedly.
Welookedpathetic.
Afteralong,silentmoment,Holdenstood,quietlymakinghiswaytostandnexttoCoach.Heclappedhimontheshoulder,thetwoofthemexchanginganodofrespectbeforeHoldenturnedtofacetheteam.
“Coachisright,”hesaid,hiseyesdeterminedastheyscannedtheroom.
IsworeIsawhimstepintoevenmoreofaleadershiprole,ifitwaspossible.Itwasasiftheshipwasgoingdownandthecaptaintooktheonlylifeboat,sothefirstmatetookthewheel,doingallhecouldtosteadyusinthestorm.
“Thisisn’ttheendforus.Weshowedtheentirenationthisseasonthatwearetheteamtheyshouldallbeafraidof.Wenearlywentundefeated,andweshowedrealgritandheartoutthereagainstthetopteaminthenationtonight,”headded,pointingbehindhimlikewewerestillonthefield.
Itwastrue.Wehadn’tgottenourasseshandedtousintheloss.Ithadbeenbyonlythreepoints—afieldgoalthatwasscoredtoolateinthelastquarterforustodoanythingaboutit,thoughwetried.
“Ourvictorymaynotbetonight,”Holdensaid,noddingashelookedaround.“Butitstillexists.Ourchampionshipiswaiting.Now,areyougoingtoturnyourbackonitbecausewe’relosingsomeofourfamily?Ourbrothers,”hesaid,gesturingtoacoupleofourseniors.Hesmirkedthen,archingabrowbackatCoach.“OurPops.”
Hesomehowmadeusallchuckle,eveninthedarkesthour,andCoachsockedhimacrossthearm—buthewassmiling,too.
“Doyouthinkthey’dwantustogiveup?”
Oneoftheseniorsstood,pointinghisgargantuanfingeratallofus.“Ifyoudon’twinnextyear,I’llflybackfromwhereverIaminthecountryandkickeverysingleoneofyourasses.”
Anotherseniorpoppeduptojoinhim.“I’llhelp.”
“See?”Holdensaid,gesturingtothem.“Today,thisloss?Itstings.Ithurtslikehell.Itfeelsunfair,likeouroneshotwasstolen.Butthat’sjustit—thisisn’tourlastbullet.Wehaveanotherinthechamber.”Hepaused,lettingthatsinkin.“So,arewegoingtothrowinthetowel?Orarewegoingtofight?”
“Fight!”Leosaid,jumpingupfromwherehewasseatedinfrontofalocker
“Fight!”Zekeechoed,jumpingup,too.
Oneaftertheother,everymemberofourteamstood,thrustingtheirfistsintheairwiththeirbrowsbent,anewfirelit.
Istoodlast,crouchedoverasIbobbedmyheadandsiftedthroughthecrowdlikeacreatureofthenight.Iwalkedtotherhythmofasongnotplaying,butKylecaughton,andhestarteddrummingoutabeatonthenearestlocker.
“Whoarewe?!”
“NBU!”
Theirresponsewassolouditnearlyknockedmeonmyass.
“Whatdowewant?!”
“Whatallchampsdo!”
Anyonewalkingpastthatlockerroomwouldhavethoughtwewereinsane.Wejustlostthebowlgame—andherewewerechantinglikewe’dwonit.
“Howdowewin?”
“Fightwithclass!”
“Andifallelsefails?”
“KICKTHEIRASS!”
Thatlastpartwasgarbledandriddledwithwhatsoundedlikewarcriesfromeveryoneintheroom.Helmetshitagainstlockers,cleatsstompedonthefloor,andmyteammatesbeattheirchestslikewarriors.
IglancedatHoldenthroughthemadness,whoworeaslighttiltofhismouthashenoddedatme—mycaptain,andI,hisnewfirstmate.
Itdidn’tmatterthatCoachwasleaving.
Itwouldbeourseasonnextyear.
Andnoonewouldtakeitfromus.
Giana
NewYear’sEvewasamixtureofsadnessandloss,ofcelebrationandrenewal—ajuxtapositionofacocktailthatdizziedmethemoreItriedtofigureitout
IleanedmybackagainstClay’schestontherooftopbar,hisgiantarmswrappedaroundmeanddoingmoretowarmmethanmyoversizedcoat.Hewasquietafterthebowlgameloss,afterthenewsofCoachSandersheadingtotheNFL.
“Areyourthoughtseatingyoualiveinthere?”Iasked,smoothingmyhandsoverhisforearmswhereheheldme.OureyesweretrainedonthelightsofDallasflickeringbeforeus,fireworksalreadygoingoffeventhoughtherewerestillafewminutesuntilmidnight.
Clayletoutalongbreath,squeezingmetighter.“Everythingischanging,”hesaidsoftly.
“That’snotnecessarilyabadthing.”
“No,”heagreed.“Butitmakesmefeelunsteady.”
Iturnedinhisarms,wrappingminearoundhisneckandpullinghisgazefromthecitydowntome.“YouarethesteadiestmanIknow,”Isaidtruthfully.“AndwithHoldenbyyourside,Iknowyoutwocanholdtheteamtogetherandfacewhatcomesnext.ZekeandRileywillbethere,too.AndLeo.”Ipaused.“Hell,evenKyleseemedfireduptonight.”
Clayscoffed.“Hejusthopesthenewcoachisapushoversohecanbringhisphoneonthefieldagain.CoachSanderswouldn’thaveit.”
“I’msurethenewcoachwon’teither.”
Claysighed,shakinghishead.“I’mnervous,”headmitted.“Butyou’reright.It’snothingwecan’thandle.”
Inodded,playingwiththehairatthenapeofhisneckasIpresseduponmytoes,needingmorecontact.“Youknow…I’vebeenthinkingaboutwhatyousaid.Aboutmebeinganagent.”
Hecockedabrow.“Yeah?”
“Yeah…and…IthinkIwanttotry.”
Claysmirked,thefirstreallightcomingbacktohiseyessinceCoach’snews.“Wait,really?Holyshit,Kitten—that’sepic.”
“Don’tgettooexcitedjustyet,”Itoldhim—mostlybecauseitwasdangerousformetogettooexcited.“ItalkedtoCharlotteaboutit.Shesaidshe’dhelpme,introducemetosomepeople,andletmetakeoverleadingourguyswhohavecurrentNILdeals.”
“That’shuge!”Claysaid,ignoringmyrequestnottogettooexcited.Heliftedmeup,spinningmearoundassomeofhisteammatesbackedawaysoasnottobehitbymykittenheels.Whenheputmebackdown,hegrabbedmyfaceinhishands.“I’msofuckingproudofyou.”
Iflushed,leaningintohispalm.“We’llseewhathappens.”
“Oh,Ialreadyknowwhatwillhappen.”
“Dotell.”
“We’regoingtowinthechampionshipnextyear.Andthentheyearafterthat,I’llgetdraftedinthefirstround,andyou’llbemyagent—negotiatingthesickestsigningbonusanyonehaseverseen.”
Iletoutabreathofalaugh.“Andwhataboutnow?”
Hefrowned,confused.
“Whathappensbeforeallthat?”
Clayinhaledalongbreath,hisgreeneyessearchingmineashethumbedacurlbehindmyear.Thatthumbtracedmyjawnext,andheframedmyface,pullingmecloser.
“Now,Ispendtheentireoff-seasonspoilingmygirl,”hesaideasily,andasthecrowdaroundusbegantocountdownfromten,heleanedincloser.“StartingwithgivingherherfirstNewYear’sEvekiss.”
Three…two…one!
Withatiltofmychinuptomeethim,Clay’smouthclaimedmyown,andmyheartfloatedoffonthewingsofamillionbutterfliesasfireworkssplayedoverhead,theirboomsechoinginmyheart.Holden
Thelockerroomwascompletelysilentonthefirstdayofspringtraining.
Myteammatessatinfrontoftheirlockersorleanedagainsttrainingequipment,eyesontheflooraswewaited.
Iwantedtopumpthemup,tohavesomegrandspeechthatwouldsoothealltheirworry.
Butthetruthwas,Iwasworried,too.
DespitehowI’dsomehowmanagedtoredirecttheirenergyafterourbowlgameloss,Iknewasmuchaseveryoneelseinthisroomhowmuchanewcoachwouldchangethings.Anewcoachmeantnewdrills,newwaysofdoingthings,newplaysandtacticsand—possibly—newstarters.
Thatwaswhatscaredeveryoneinthisroomthemost.
AlleyessnappedtothedoorwaythatledintothehallwhenCoachDawson,ourdefensiveendcoordinator,swungthroughit.Onhisheelswasourspecialteamscoach,ouroffensivecoordinator,andourtrainerstaff.
Andthen,attheveryendoftheline,CoachCarsonLee.
CoachLeesharedafewsimilaritieswithourlastcoach.Hewasbrutalinhistrainingcampswhenhecoacheddownsouth,hehadazero-toleranceattitudewhenitcametoanyofhisplayerssteppingoutofline,andheexpectedgreatness.
ButhewasdifferentfromCoachSandersinmanyways,too.
Forstarters,hewastwentyyearshissenior,whichsomehowmademerespecthimevenmorejustbecausehe’dbeencoachingballbeforeIwasevenborn.Healsohadabitmoreofaradicalapproach,onethatgothimheadlinesfordoingthingslikemakinghisteamrunhalfthelengthoftheFloridaPanhandleoneweekendafteralosstoateamtheywereexpectedtobeateasily.
Weallstoodwhenheentered,likesoldierscomingtoattentionfortheirsergeant.
Hesweptintotheroomwithpurpose,talkingtoournewassistantcoachwhomhe’dbroughtwithhim.Iwatchedthetwoofthemconversingastheymovedtowardthecenterofthelockerroom.
Thatwas,untilshewalkedin.
IalmostthoughtitwasRileyatfirst—becausesheandGianaJoneswerethegirlsweeverreallysawinthelockerroom.ButthegirlwhoswungthroughthedoorbehindCoachwasnooneI’deverseenbefore.
Herlong,leather-brownhairflowedoverhershoulderslikechocolatewaves—andthatwastheonlythingsoftabouther.Everyinchofherfacewasetchedintosevereprecision,herjawset,bow-shapedlipsflattenedintoatightline.Inaredcroptanktopandblacktrackpants,Icouldtellshewasfit,hertoned,goldenstomachpeekingthroughthegapbetweenthetwo.Shewasslight,narrowhipsandleanarms,whichmadeheramplebuststandoutevenmore.
Ineverypossibleway,shewasacompleteknockout.
Butitwasn’therbodythatheldmecaptive.
Itwasn’therhair,orthegracefullineofherneck,orthearrogantindifferencewithwhichshestrodeintotheroom.
Itwashereyes.
Warm,endlesslydeepbrown,framedbythicklashesthatsweptacrosshercheekswitheveryblink.
“Atease,gentlemen,”CoachLeesaidwithasmirk,holdingouthishandsandsignalingustositoncehewasinthecenteroftheroom.“Andlady,”headdedwithapointedlookatRiley.
Therestofthecoacheslinedthewallbehindhim,givinghimourfullattention.
“IknowI’vealreadymetafewofyouduringmytourshere,butI’mexcitedtofinallygetrealtimewitheachandeveryoneofyou.Iwon’tpretendlikeI’mblindtohowuncomfortableanduneasythisallmustbeforyou.I’mnotjustanewplayer,I’manewcoach—andIknowhowthatcanshakethingsupmorethananythingelse.”
Iswallowed.
“ButIwantyoutoknow,I’mnotheretochangeeverything.Obviously,alotofwhatyouhavegoingherehasbeenworking.It’sanhonortobewalkingontothisteam.”Hepaused,hanginghishandsonhiships.“It’llbeevenmoreofanhonortogiveyouthelastpushtothefinishline,tobetherewhentheycrownuschampsattheendoftheseason.”
Thatmadeseveralplayersexchangelooksofdeterminationanddelight,thatfirethatI’dstokedattheendoflastseasonjustonegoodpokeawayfromroaringagain.
“It’sthefirstdayofspringtraining,andIdon’twanttousethisprecioustimebabblingonaboutmyself.We’llgettoknoweachotherastheseasonprogresses.Fornow,IwanttointroduceyoutoCoachHoover,”hesaid,gesturingforthemanwho’dwalkedinnexttohimtocomeup.“Hooverismyright-handman,andwillprobablybecomeyourfavoritepersonintheworldbecauseifanyonecantalkmeoutofmakingateamrunlaps,it’shim.”
CoachHooversmirkedasCoachLeeclappedhimontheback.
“Andthis,”hesaid,wavingahandbehindhim.“Ismydaughter—Julep.”
Hesitantly,shesteppeduptohisside,thoughshedidn’tsmileorshowanyounceofemotionotherthanaslightraiseoftwofingersfromwhereshe’dfoldedherarmsacrossherchest.
“Julepisajunior,andforsomereason,lovesmeenoughtotransferfromourlastuniversityandfinishoutherdegreehere.She’smajoringinsportsmedicine,andshe’llbeinterningunderthetrainingstaffontheteam.”
Myheartratespikedatthethoughtofherbeingaroundallthetime,atthemereinferencethatshemightbetheonetostretchormassagemebeforeagame.
Coachpaused,somethingmoreseverewashingoverhisexpressionashisjawhardened,eyesnarrowing.
“Andletmebeextremelyclear,”hesaid,scanningtheroom.“IfanyofyouevensomuchasthinksaboutflirtingwithJulep,letalonehavingtheballstoaskheronadate,youwillhavemetoanswerto.She’snothereforyoutoogleover.She’sheretowork—justlikeyou.IimaginesinceyouhaveRileyNovoasateammate,Idon’tneedtolectureanyfurtherthanthisaboutrespectingfemalesintheathleticindustry.”
Rileysmiledalittleatthat,obviouslyimpressed,andJuleprolledhereyeslikeshehatedthatthiswasaconversationthatevenneededtohappenatall.
Allthewhile,Iwasburningfromtheinsideout.
Becauseallmylife,footballhadbeenmyoneandonlyfocus.ItwasallIcaredabout.Itwasmyreasonforwakingupinthemorning,andtheonlythoughtthatconsumedmewhenIlaidmyheaddownatnight.Itwasmylifeline,mymuse,thecenterofmyattention.
Butinonefatalmoment,thatfocusshifted.
JulepLeewasthecoach’sdaughter.Shewascompletelyofflimits.
Andyet,IknewrightthenandtherethatIhadtohaveher.
Whathappenswhentherolemodelquarterbackhashismoralstestedwiththeheadcoach’srebelliousdaughter?FindoutthisfallinQuarterbackSneak!Pre-ordernow.
What’sworsethanhatingyourbrother’sbestfriend?Roomingwithhim.ReadRileyandZeke’sstoryinFairCatch–FREEinKindleUnlimited!Thirstyforanotherhotsportsromance?KeepreadingforasneakpeekinsidetheAmazonTop5Bestseller–TheWrongGame.
Gemma
Thisisnottheconversationweweresupposedtohave.
Onthedrivehome,Isaweverywordthatwouldform.Isawhowtheywouldbeborn,firstinmymindandtheninmymouth,eachonestandingstrongandbraveasitslippedfrommylipsandlandedonhisears.
IknewwhatI’dsay.Iknewwhathe’dsay.Ihadaplan
MyparticularbrandofanxietywashavinganungodlyamountofstressoverthatwhichIcouldnotcontrol.It’dbeenthiswaysinceIwasayounggirl,andit’donlyworsenedwithage.Imadelists,andplans,anddeadlines.Igavemyselfgoals,andwhenImetthem,IcelebratedonlylongenoughformetodecidewhatIwouldtacklenextonthelist
Itwasallaboutbeingincontrol.
So,unlikeanormalwomandiscoveringherhusband’sinfidelity,IdidnotcryorscreamorthrowobjectsacrosstheroomwhenIlearnedthetruth.No,instead,whenIfoundthefirstsignofhisindiscretions,Imadeachecklist.AndIcheckeditemsoffthatlistwithamixtureofbothdreadandsatisfaction.
Perfumethatwasn’tminestaininghisshirt?Check.
Textmessagesfromanunknownnumber,slippingthroughthecracksofmyhusband’stechnology-ignorantfingersontooursharedcomputer,butmissingfromhisphone?Check.
HotelroomsbookedonacardIshouldn’thaveknownabout,oneIonlydiscoveredbyreceivingthestatementinourtealmailbox?Check.
Wepaintedthatmailboxtogether,bytheway.ItwasoneofthefirstthingsonthelistI’dmadewhenweboughtourhouse.We’dbothbeencoveredinthattealpaint—thecolorIlovedsomuchinthestore,butactuallyratherhatedonceitwassplashedonourmailbox.
Butitdidn’tmatterthedaywepaintedthatmailbox.
Onthatday,myhusbandkissedmypaint-splatteredlipsandtoldmeIwastheonlywomanhewouldeverlove.
AndIbelievedhim.
Myhusbandwasthekindofmanwholookedatmesoadoringly,whosaidthesweetestthings,thatIwascertainIcouldhavetossedhimintoapitofgorgeoussupermodelsandhewouldn’thavesomuchasevenlookedatthem,letalonetouchthem.Infact,he’dbesearchingforme,callingoutmyname,seekingmeout.
Myentirerelationshipwithhim,I’dbelievedeverywordhe’dsaid—perhapsblindly,itwouldseem.Ibelievedhimwhenhecriedthedayheaskedmetomarryhim,andwhenhetoldmeoverbreakfastonemorningthatnooneinthisworldmademehappierthanhim.Therewasneveranyreasontosuspecthim.Therewasneveranyreasontonotfeelsafe.
Andyet…
ThelastlittleboxonthelistImadewhenIfirstsuspectedmyhusbandwascheatingonmewasvisualproof.Ihadtheclues,theemailsandtexts,andlatenightswithnoalibi.Butitwasn’tuntilIfollowedhim,untilIsawwithmyowneyesthathishandscouldholdanotherwomanthewayheheldme,thathismouthcouldkisshers,thathissmilecouldbeamforsomeoneotherthanme.
Andwhenthatboxwaschecked,Istilldidn’tcry.Orscream.Orthrowanything,thoughIdiddebateshovingmyheeldownonthegaspedalofmycarandleavingitthereasIdrovetowardwheretheystood,kissingandlaughing,pullingluggageoutofmyhusband’scar.
No,insteadoflettingemotionruleme,IdidwhatIdobest.Justlikewiththerestofmylife,Imadeaplan.
IfocusedonwhatIcouldcontrol.
Icouldcontrolme,whatIwouldsay,whatIwoulddo.IcouldcontrolwhoItold,howourfamilieswouldfindout,howwewouldgoaboutthedivorce.Icouldcontrolwhogotwhat,howassetsweresplit,andwhereweeachwouldstayasthesignatureswerescrawledagainstcold,lifelesspiecesofpaperthatwouldendouryoungmarriage.
IcouldcontrolhowIwouldtellhimthatIknew,andcouldtempermyemotionsasItoldhim.
Perhapsallofthiswaswhy,sittingacrossthetablefrommyhusband,myheartwasbeatingrapidly,loudandthunderousinmyearsasitthreatenedtobangrightoutofmyribcage.Itcouldhavebeenwhymybreathwasshallow,myeyesdryfromnotblinking,mymouthclampedshutwithoutasinglewordtooffer,thoughIhadsomanyplannedinmyhead.
Ihadaplan.Iknewhowthisconversationwouldgo.Ihadeverythingincontrol.
Iknowabouther.Iknowwhatyou’vedone.I’mleaving.We’redone.
Butmyuncannysenseofcontrolandmyabilitytomakeachecklistdidn’tmatteronceIactuallysatdownatourkitchentableacrossfromthemanwho’dliedtomeforyears.
Becausehespokefirst.
Andeverythingchanged.
“Gem,”herasped,hisvoicebrokenundertheweightofhiswords.“Gemma,didyouhearme?”
“Iheardyou,”Imanaged.
Myownvoicemirroredhis,brokenandraspy,lacedwithdread.Ofcourse,heassumeditwasbecauseoftheblowhe’ddelivered.Mysad-eyed,exhaustedhusbandthoughthe’dbrokenmyheartwithhisnews.Butthetruthwasmydreadwasbornofadifferentsource.ItwassimplymemourningtheabsoluteconvictionwithwhichI’dbelievedinmyplananditscertainsuccess.
Now,Ihadnoplan.
Now,mycheatinghusbandandhissecretloverwerenotthecenterofthisconversation.
Now,mycheatinghusbandhadcancer.
Thekindthatcouldn’tbefought.
Thekindthatwouldendhislife.
Soon.
It’sokay,Itriedtoassuremyself,pressingahandtomychestsoIcouldfeelhowfastmyheartwasbeatingbeneathmyribcage.Justmakeanewplan.
But,asitwentwithmyspecialbrandofanxiety,myplansnotworkingoutthewayIenvisionedthemoftenleftmegrappling.Suddenly,everythingIthoughtIhadonaleashwasrunningwild,andnomatterhowItriedtotalkmyselfdown,Icouldn’t.Everytimethathappened—everytimemyplanwentwrong—myemotionswouldwin,alllogicgone,allsenseofwhatshouldbedonelostlikeawhisperonabreeze.
“Please,”hewhispered,grabbingthelegsofmychairandpullingmetowardhim.Thewoodmadeaterriblenoiseasitrubbedagainstourkitchenfloor,sparkingawaveofchillsfrommyanklestothetopofmyspine.“Don’tcry,mysweetgem.Itwillbeokay.We’llbeokay.”
Hewrappedhisarmaroundme,onehandcradlingmyheadintohischestastheothercaressedmyback.Thosehandshadtouchedanotherwoman,andtheywerenowtouchingme,andIwantedtopullawayjustasmuchasIwantedtostaythereforever.
Hewasgoingtoleaveme.Hewasgoingtoleavethisworld.
Mytearsfeltliketheybelongedtosomeoneelseastheysoakedhissweater,andItriedtodecipherwheretheycamefrom.Itdidn’ttakelongformetorealizetheyweren’tbornfromone,singularsource,butratherfromallofthem—likeawaterfallmadeofglaciersmeltingallatonceinthefirstwarmwaveofspring.
Myhusbandwascheatingonme.
Helovedanotherwoman—onewhodidnotbearmyname.
Iwouldbealone,becauseIwouldlosehim.
Onlynow,itwouldn’tbebecauseofhisinfidelity.Thechoicetobealonewouldnotbemadebymestandingtall,demandingmore,notacceptinghisaffair.
Instead,hewouldfadefromtheEarthandIwouldremain,mourninghimalongwithhisotherlover.
MaybeIcriedbecause,thoughIhadaplan,Isecretlyprayedhewouldthwartit.PerhapsIhalf-envisionedmeleavinghim,chinheldhighasIwalkedaway,andhalf-envisionedhimbeggingmetostay,promisingtorelinquishhisloveaffair,forourmarriagemeantmoretohimthansheevercould.
Regardless,itdidn’tmatternow.
Now,Ihadacheatinghusbandwhowouldneverlearnmyknowledgeofhisinfidelity.
Becausenow,IwouldnevertellhimIknew.
Whatwouldbetheobjective?Withablowashardasterminalcancer,wastherereallyanypointtoleavinghimnow,tolettinghimfightthefinalweeksofhislifealone?WasthereanypointtotellinghimIknewabouttheotherwomanhetouched,otherthansatisfyingmyneedtofeelincontrol,toshovemyproofinhisfaceandsayHa!Iknowwhatyoudid!?
Deathhasafunnywayofputtinglifeintoperspectiveforus.Andwhathadoncebeensoimportanttome—thatneedforvindicationIheldsotightlyonmydrivehome—didn’tseemtomatternow.Therewasreallyonlyonethingthatdid.
Ilovedhim.
Thatemotionwaseasytopindown.
AndbecauseitwastheonlythingIcouldtrulygrasp,Iheldontoittightly,knuckleswhiteandaching.CarloManciniwasmyhusband,andI,hiswife.Hewasmyeverything—andthatwasstilltrue,regardlessofwhoelsehe’dsharedabedwith.
So,Ipulledbackfromhisembrace,andkissedhislips—lipsIalwaysthoughtwouldbeonlyminetokiss—andItoldhimIlovedhim.ItoldhimIwasthere.Iheldhishandandtoldhimthat,comewhatmay,hehadmebyhisside.
AndbyhissideIstayed,untiltheverydayhedied.
Somewhereinthatwarped,whirlingspanoftime,Ithinkapartofmedied,too.
Iwatchedcancerwithermystrong,commandinghusbandintonothingbutskinandbones.Iwatchedhiseyesgrowhollow,hislipsashen,hishandsweakenwhereIheldtheminmine.EverydaythatIlookedinthemirror,Iwatchedmyowneyeschange,ahardnesssettlingin.Iwatchedatwenty-nine-year-oldgirlbecomeanoldwomaninjustweeks—weeksthatfeltlikeyears,butflewbylikedays.
Andonthedayofhisfuneral,Iwatchedagirlyoungerandprettierthanmemournhimfromthebackrowofourchurch.
ShecriedthesametearsthatIdid,thoughIsworeherheartwasinmorepainthanmine.Becauseshehadthesatisfactionofbeingtheotherwoman,ofbeingtheonehecouldn’tlivewithout—somuchsothathewaswillingtoriskhismarriage,hisreputation,hislifethathehadbuilt.Sheknewwithoutadoubtthatshehadbeenhisworld,thatshehadbeenthelastfaceinhismindbeforethelightwasextinguishedandhefadedoffintonothing.
Ididn’thavethatsamecomfort.
Ihadcasserolesfromneighborsandlifeinsurancepoliciesfromlawyersandahousefullofthingsthatsmelledlikehim.IhadadownpaymentonacondodowntownthatI’dsecured,thinkingIwouldbewalkingawayfromhim,awayfromhisinfidelity.Ihadanemptyholeinmychestwhereayoungheartusedtobeat,whereloveusedtogrowlikeflowers,nowturnedtoweeds.
Ihadasecrettokeep,onethatwouldeatmealiveeveryseconditdwelledinthedark,unspokendepthsofmymind.
AndIhadaplan.
Topreservecontrolovermyfuture,overmyheart,mysoul,mywell-being,overthelifeIwouldleadaftermyhusband—Ihadtoeliminatethefactorsthatwereuncontrollable.Itwasjustthatsimple.
Andrightthere,inthatfirst-rowpew,withmydead,cheatinghusband’smother’shandinmine,Imadeonesimpleplan,withonesimplerule.
Neverfallinloveagain.
Itwasmorethanjustaplan,morethanjustagoal.Itwasapromise.
AnditwasoneIvowedtokeep.Gemma
eightmonthslater
“No.”
Ionlyhadonewordformybestfriend-slash-bossasweflowedwiththecrowdspillingoutofSoldierField,thewarm,early-Septemberairsweepingoverus.DespitethefactthatBelleandIhadsweatthroughmostoftheChicagoBearspreseasongameuntilthesunfinallywentdown,Istillsmiled,revelinginthelastfewweeksofsummer.
Soon,theheatwouldfade,andtheIllinoiswinterwouldhitwithallthesubtletyofaMacktruck.
Iwasinnorushtobegreetedwiththekindofcoldthathurtsyourface.Still,whileIwouldmisssummer,itwasfallthatwasmyfavoriteseason.Ithadalwaysheldaspecialplaceinmyheartformanyreasons—mybirthday,Halloween,pumpkin-spicedeverything,and,mostofall,football.
“Shutup.Youdon’tgettosaynotome,”Bellesnapped.Shesweptherlong,strawberry-blondehairoffhershoulderbeforeloopingherarmthroughmine.“Inourfriendship,I’malwaysright.AndtrustmewhenIsayI’mrightaboutthis.”
“I’mnotreadytodate,Belle.Dropit.”
“Ididn’tsayyouhadtodate,”shestated,matter-of-factly,asshehelduponeblack-lacqueredfingernail.“Isaidyouneedtogetlaid.Andthis,myfriend,isliterallyeveryman’sfantasy.”Shegesturedtothestadiumwehadjustwalkedoutof.“Freeticketstoafootballgameandahotchicktobangattheendofthenight—withnostringsattached?”Sheshookherhead.“Honestly,IwishIhadthoughtofthisfirst.It’sgenius.”
“Ididn’tthinkofanything,”Iremindedher.“Iboughtseasonticketsformyhusbandtogivetohimonhisthirty-fifthbirthday.”
“Yourcheatinghusband,”sheremindedme,steeringuslefttowardthestreetlinedwithsportsbars.Andthoughmyfacedidn’tshowasinglesignofweaknessatthosewords,mystomachtightenedintoaknot.
BellewasliterallytheonlypersonwhowouldeverknowthatCarlowasunfaithful,otherthanthewomanhecheatedonmewith—andnotevensheknewthatIknew.I’donlytoldBelleafterCarlohadpassedaway,mainlybecauseIknewshe’dspeeduptheprocessofhisdeathbeforethegoodLordcouldtakehimifshefoundoutabouthisinfidelity.
Bellewasthekindofbestfriendwholovedfiercely.Shewashonestwithmealways—bluntlyso—andsheneverletmegettoocomfortableinmylittlelandofcontrol.Justwhenshesawmeslippingintoanykindofcomplacency,shewouldchallengeme.
IhatedherasmuchasIlovedherforthat.
Still,whileIknewI’dneedsomeonetotalktoaboutCarlo’sinfidelity,someonewhoknewthewholestory,sometimesIregrettedtellingher.WhereIwasallaboutsuppressing,boxingdifficultemotionsawayandfocusingontasksIcouldcomplete,Bellewasaprocessor.
Shewasnotthekindofgirltoletsomethinggo.
Especiallythiskindofsomething.
“AndIsaythiswiththeutmostrespectforyouandhimandallofGod’screatures,”shecontinued,drawingacrossoverhershoulderswithherfreehand.“Buthe’snothereanymore,Gemma.Mayherestinpeace.”Shepaused.“Andalso,becastratedinthenameofJesus,amen.”
“Belle.”
“I’mkidding.”Shepausedagain.“Sortof.”
Iwasashamedofthesmallsmileclimbingonmylipsinthatmoment.Ifhewasstillhere,ifmyoriginalplanhadactuallycometofruition,thesetypesofjokeswouldbefinetomake.Afterall,whatwomandidn’tsupportherbestfriendaftershewascheatedon?Commentsofcastrationandill-biddingwerewelcome,andmostcertainlyexpected.
Butwhenhewasnolongerbreathing,whencancerhadtakenhislifebeforeIcouldtakemylifebackfromhim,itwasn’tthesame.Itwascruel,andheartless,anditproducedatypeofguiltthatsatlowandunsettlinginyourstomach.
Thiswasmyentireexistence,itseemed,forthepastseveralmonths.
“WhileIappreciatetheattempttomakemelaugh,I’mnotreadytomakejokesaboutCarlolikethat,”Isaidsoftly.“Iprobablywon’teverbe.”
“I’msorry,”Bellesaidonasigh,squeezingmyarmasweflowedwiththecrowd.“Really,Iam.Thatwastoofar.Youknowme,Ican’thelpbutmakejokes,evenwhenit’swildlyinappropriate.Rememberwhenmycousinhadafuneralforhiscat?”
“Andyoumadeacakethatlookedlikealitterboxwithlittlepebblesofpoop,andwroteSorryyourcathittheshitter,atleastyoudon’thavetochangeanymorelitteronitwithhotpinkfrosting?”
Bellepointedatme.“Exactly.I’mawfulatdeath,itmakesmefeelitchyandsoIresorttohumor.Apparently,verypoorlyplacedhumor.But,”shecontinued,takingthatfingershehadpointedatmyfaceandre-directingittopointatmyladybits.“Let’sbringthisbacktotherealsubjectathand,whichisthatthatregionisaboutasdryastheSaharaDesert.”
Irolledmyeyes,pullingmyarmfromwhereitwaswrappedaroundherstofishinmypurse.IrummagedaroundformylipstickaswemadeourwaytowardtheSouthLoopbars.
Playthehumorcard,Gemma.You’regood.Everything’sokay.
“Thisregionisjustfine,thankyou,”Itoldher,gesturingtomycrotchasIfinallyfoundmylipstick.Irolledtheburgundytubeup,pointingitdirectlyatmybestfriend.“Itgetsplentyofaction.”
Bellescoffed.“Oh,right.Forgivemeforthinkingatwenty-nine-year-oldwomanmightwantsomethingmorethanadildowiththreevibrationspeeds.”
“Four,”Icorrected,smoothingthedeepburgundycreamovermytoplipandblottingittogetherwiththebottom.“Andthistwenty-nineyear-oldwomanisperfectlycontent.”
Bellehuffed,andfortherestofourwalktothestripofbarswefrequentedaftergames,shecontinued,onandonabouttheimportanceofmylibidonotgoingstaleandmyvaginagettingaction.
ThiswaspartofwhatinfuriatedmeaboutBelle,andpartofwhatIloved—shecouldargueafishintobuyinganoxygentank.InBelle’smind,shealwaysknewwhatwasrightandwhatwaswrong,andshehadalltherightwordstoconvinceyou,too.
Itwasoneofthethingsthatmadeherasuccessfulentrepreneur.
Bellestartedherowninteriordesignfirmassoonasshegraduatedcollege.Infact,shealreadyhadclientslinedup,thankstooutshiningthefull-timeemployeesatherinternships.And,luckilyforme,sheneededanassistant—AKAsomeonetorunherlife.Whereshewasgreatwiththepeople,withthedesign,Iwasgreatwiththenumbers,withtheorganization,andtogether?WemadethebestteaminChicago.
Shenevercrossedover—shehungherbosshatupintheofficeandworeherbestfriendhat,instead.But,regardlessofifwewereontheclockornot,Bellewasjustabosskindoflady.
Andshewasadamantaboutthisparticularjob.
Bythetimewefinallyhitthestripofbarswewereaimingfor,Iwasindesperateneedofadrink,andformybestfriendtodropthesubject.
Butshewasn’tdoneyet.
“Ugh,youhaven’tsaidanythinginliketenminutes,”shesaid,pullingmetoadeadstopoutsideabarpackedwithChicagoanscelebratingtheBears’win.Itwasthelastpreseasongame,andtheentirecitywasalivewiththehopeofapromisingseason—especiallyinthesouthsidebythestadium.WhilemostBearsfanswentbacktotheirtailgatingspotsormadethecommutebackintotheheartofthecityafterthegames,IwasbeginningtoprefertherowdinessofthesportsbarsintheSouthLoop.
Honestly,Ipreferredalmostanythingotherthangoingbacktomyemptycondo
WhenCarlowasalive,wewouldusuallywatchthegamesathomewithagroupofourneighbors.Iwouldcook,hewouldentertain,anditwaseverythingI’deverdreamedofhavingwhenIwasayounggirl.
WhenIboughthimtheseasontickets,Ienvisionedmoreforus—tailgating,buildingacommunityintheseatsaroundus,startingtraditions…
Bellesighed,andIblinkedawayCarlo’smemory.
“Look,IknowIjokealot,”Bellesaid,takingmyshouldersinherhands.Sheloweredhergazetomine,ensuringIwaslisteningbeforeshecontinued.“ButI’mseriouswhenIsaythatIloveyouandIknowyou’vebeenthroughalotinthepasteightmonths.”
Hereyessoftened,andIforcedaswallow,wardingoffanyemotionsthatmighttrytosneakinwithherlookingatmelikethat.
“I’mnotsayingyoushoulddate.Hell,ifanyoneisagainstloveasmuchasyou,it’sme.Hello,”shesaid,sweepingthebackofherhandoverherleanbody.“Singleforlifeandlovingit,okay?But,justbecauseIdon’tdatedoesn’tmeanIdon’tgoout,havefun,meetpeople.”Sheeyedme.“Andgetsome.”
Ijuststaredather,stillnotconvinced.
“Youhavethesetickets,right?”shecontinued.“AndyoulovetheBears.”
“DaBears.”
“I’mnotsayingitlikethat.”
“Sayit,orI’mnotlisteningtotherestofthis.”
Bellerolledhereyes.“DaBears.”
Ismiled.“Better.”
“Ihateyou.”Shereadjustedhergriponmyshoulders.“Anyway,you’relikeanenigmatodudes.Agirlwhoactuallyenjoysfootball?It’sgold,Gemma.So,insteadofforcingyourfun-lovingbestfriendwhoabsolutelyloathessportsofallkinds,tosufferthrougheveryhomegamewithyou,takeachanceandmeetsomenewpeople.Havefunwithafewguyswhohavethesameinterestasyou,and,whoknows,”shesaid,smirking.“Maybeabigwangtorockyourworldwithattheendofeverygame.Nowthat’sthedefinitionofawin-win.”
Icouldn’thelpbutsmileatthat.“Ithinkyou’rethehorniestwomantoeverexist.”
“Guiltyascharged.Now,”shesaid,holdingoutherhand.“Givemeyourphone,letmedownloadthisapp,andjust…trustme.Foronce.Thisdoesn’tgoagainstanyofyourplans,right?There’snoroses-and-chocolatedating,noFacebook-officialrelationshipstatusupdates,nolove,nomarriageorbabies,oranyofthat.”
Chewingtheinsideofmycheek,Idebatedherreasoning.Inaway,shedidhaveafairpoint—Imaybedidneedalittleaffection.Iwasdeadsetonnevertrustinganyoneagain,neverfallingforthosestupidpuppy-dogeyesastheystaredintomineandtoldmetheylovedmeandonlyme.Iwasdonewiththat.
Butfootball,beer,andalittlerompinthesack?
Iwasn’tnotintothat…
And,ifIcouldbelikeanyone,itwouldbeBelle.Atthirty,shewashappilysingle,successfulinhercareer,andtravelinglikeitwasheronlyjob.She’dneverneededaman,neverevengivenaguymorethanaweektotrytonailherdown.Shewasmyinspiration,myhopethattherewasalifetoliveafterCarlo.
MyheartsankwhenIthoughtofhimagain,becausetherewasatimewhenallIwantedwaseverythingthatBellejustlisted.TheverythingsthatnowmademewanttocrawlintoaballandhideorstartkickingthefirstmantoapproachmeusedtobetheonlythingsIdesired.Iwantedahusband,andafamily,andasuburbanlife.Iwantedapartnerinlifetogrowoldwith,tolaughwith,toleanonwhenlifegothard.
Now,Ionlywantedtoleanonmyself,becauseIwastheonlyoneIcoulddependontonotletmefall.
So,insteadoflettingmyemotionstakeover,Irevertedtorulenumberoneofmyplan—theoneI’dmadeonhowtosurviveafterhepassed.
Don’tmournthemanyouthoughtyouknew.Rememberthemanhereallywas.
“Fine,”Iconceded,shakingCarlofrommythoughts.
Belledidalittlehopforjoy,butIhelduponefingertostophercelebration.
“But,ithastobeinawayIcancontrol.IfIwanttostop,ifIneverwanttoseetheguyagainorIfeelickyatanypoint,Igettopullout.Deal?”
“Deal,”sheagreed,stilldoinggrabby-handsformyphone.“Andmakesurehepullsout,too.AYOOO!”
Irolledmyeyes.
Bellewasstillsmilingatherbrilliance,fingerswigglingandwaitingformyphone.“It’sperfect.Justonlytalktothemthroughtheapp,thatwayifyouhatethemafteryourdate—er,afterthegame,”shecorrected.“Youcanjustdeletethem.Then,theycan’ttalktoyouanymore.And,honestly,Ithinkyoushouldjusttakeanewguyeverytime.”
Ihandedhermyphone,makingmywayinsidethebarasshefollowedbehind,stillbouncinglikealittlegirlwhowasjustgiventwentybuckstogowildinthetoystorewith.
“Oh,anewguyeverygame,”Iechoed.“Okay,nowthatIcouldgetdownwith.Thenit’smoreoflikea…hangout.Agamewithafriend.”
“Afriendwhocould,potentially,railyouintonextyearwithhishammercock.”
Thebartender’sbrowsshotupatBelle’scommentasweslidintotwoblessedlyemptystoolsatthecornerendofthebar.Ilaughed,shakingmyheadtosignalthatheshouldn’tevenask.
“Titosandwaterwithlime,”Itoldhim.“Two,please.”Then,Iturnedbacktomybestfriend,whowasfeverishlytypingawayonmyphone.“I’mserious,Belle.IfatanypointIdecideIhatethis,Igettopulltheplug.And,”Isaid,pointingather.“Ifthathappens,thenyou’resuckeredintogoingtoeveryremaininggamewithme.Andyoucan’tcomplain.Evenifit’sbelowfiftyoutside.”
“Yeah,fine,whatever,”shesaid,wavingmeoffquicklybeforeclickingthroughmyphonemore.
Thebartenderslidourdrinksinfrontofus,andIsmiledhisway,handinghimmycard.Whenhesmiledback,Ifaltered,eyeslingeringonhimalittlelongerthantheyshouldhave.Heturnedsoquickly,Ididn’thavetimetostarethewayIwantedto,butthatbriefsmilealonehadmeclenchingmythighstogetherunderthebar.
Bellegrabbedherdrinkandimmediatelystartedsippingfromthestraw,fingersstillflyingovermyphone,butIjuststaredatthemanwithmycardinhishandashecrossedtotheothersideofthebartohelpthenextperson.Hisshoulderswerebroadandrounded,hiswaistnarrow,t-shirtsittingonthebeltofhisjeansinawaythatmademynextswallowhardertoaccomplish.Andwhenmyeyesfelltohisass,perfectlyroundedinapairofdarkdenimjeansthatfellinjusttherightwayoffhiships,well…
Let’sjustsayIwantedabetterlookatthefront.Andtheside.Andallangles.
MaybeIamreadytogetlaid.
“There!”Belleexclaimedproudly,holdingmyphoneoutafewinchesasiftostudyhermasterpiece.“Yourbioisallset.Ipickedthebestpictures,althoughwedoneedtogetsomeupdatedoneswhereyou’reactuallysmiling,”shesaidpointedly,hereyesflickinguptominebeforelandingonthephoneagain.“WannahearwhatIput?”
“DoIhaveachoice?”
Belleignoredme.“HotItalianchickwholovescheckingoffto-dolistsalmostasmuchaswatchingfootball.GoBears!”
Ilaughed.“Oh,myGod,Belle.”
Again,sheignoredme.
“Seasonticketholderlookingforacool,DTFguytousemyotherticketatahomegame,”shecontinued.“Ifyoulovefootball,beer,andgoodconversation,I’myourgirl.Sendmeamessage,andmaybe,ifyou’relucky,you’llbesittingnexttomeatkick-off.”
“That’sactuallyonlyfifty-percentcheesyandawful,”Isaid,knowingtherewaslittlepointinarguinganyedits.Iglancedatthephotosshe’dpickedforme,staringatmyphoneoverhershoulder.ThedefaultwasaselfieI’dsnappedjusttwoweeksagoatthefirsthomepreseasongame.Ihadmyburnt-orangeBearsjerseyon,mylong,darkbrownhairpulledoveroneshoulder,andasidewaysgrin.MyeyeslookedevenmoreintenselygreenthannormalinthelightingI’dcaughtinmycondothatafternoon,thesunlightstreaminginthroughthefloor-to-ceilingwindows.
Readingoverthebioshe’dwrittenformeagain,Ifrowned.“WhatdoesDTFmean?”
Bellesuckedalargedrinkthroughherstraw.“Oh,itmeans…dark,tall,andfun.Kindofliketall,dark,andhandsome.Allthekidsaresayingit,kindoflikehowweusedA/S/Lbackinthegoodol’daysofAOLmessaging.”
“Oh…”Ithoughtoverherwords,wonderingwhenI’dmissedthatlittlepieceoflingo.Iwasapproachingthirty,butitwasn’tlikeIwasancient.Istillkeptupwithsocialmedia,afterall.
“Gottapee!”Bellesaidquickly,hoppingdownoffherbarstool.Shepoppedmyphoneintomyhand.“Here,startswiping.Rightmeansyouthinkthey’rehot,leftmeanstheydon’thaveachanceinhell.”
Ilaughed.“Thisisabsurd.”
Shejustshrugged.“Welcometodatinginthetwenty-firstcentury.Berightback.”
OnceBellewasgone,Icrinkledmynoseatmyphone,placingitonthebarwiththeappstilluponthescreen.Iturnedmyattentiontothetelevisionbehindthebar,instead,watchingthegamethathadjuststartedinCalifornia.TheSanFrancisco49erswereupontheDenverBroncosbythree,andIwatchedthenextplay,tossingmyhandsupwithadramaticgroanwhenoffsideswascalledonDenver’soffense.
“Oh,comeon,ref.”Isighed,sippingmyvodka.“Idiots.”
“They’vebeencallingshitthiswholequarter,”anolderguyhuffedatmefromdownthebar.“YouaBroncosfan,too?”
“Bearsgirl,”Ianswered,eyesstillonthescreen.“Butthatwasjustaterriblecall,nomatterwhichteamyou’rerootingfor.”
“Let’shopeourrefsjustlettheboysplaythisyear,”theman’sfriendchimedin,andInotedhewaswearingaBearsshirt.
“I’mmoreconcernedaboutourOline.Ifwecan’tkeepthequarterbacksafe,itwon’tmatterwhattherefscall.”
Theybothgrumbledandraisedtheirbeerstomeatthat,andIcheersedtheirdirection,takinganothersipbeforemyeyesflashedovermyphone.
Isighed,finallypickingitup.
Forasolidminute,Ijuststaredatthefirstfaceonmyscreen.Itwasablondguywithglasses,hisfacealittleround,eyessoft.Thephotohe’dchosenforhisdefaultwashimsittinginalawnchairatwhatappearedtobeabarbecue,adoginhislap,beerinonehand.Helookedfun,likeafriendIcouldwatchfootballwith.
ButIdidn’twanttohavesexwithhim.
Iswipedleft.
Oncethatfirstdecisionwasmade,Ifilteredthroughthenextonesabitquicker.Inallhonesty,itfeltlikeagame—likesomesortofsoft-corepornsitethatnoonehadtoknowIenjoyedbrowsing.ThemoreIswiped,themoreIsmiled.
Hotlawyerwithacat?Swiperight.
Boatingcaptainwithagaggleofgirlsineverysinglephotoofhis?No,thanks.Swipeleft.
Self-proclaimed“richstud”withaphotoofhimholdingastackofcash?Hardleft.
CutefreelancewriterwithaloveforallthingsChicago,includingtheBears?Yes,please.
Thisisfun,Ithought.
Untilthefirstmessagepoppedup.
Heythere,Gemma.How‘boutthemBears?
Istaredatthemessage,thumbshoveringoverthekeyboardonmyphone.
WhatdoIsayback?DoIwaittorespond?WhatifhethinksI’mstupid?Whatifheseesmeinpersonandmakesupsomelameexcusetoleave,andthenI’mjustsittingatthegamealone?
Actually,thatmightnotbesobad.
“DownToFuck?”
Ibalked,blinkingwithmyeyesstillontheunansweredmessageonmyphonebeforeIpeeredupatthemanthevoicebelongedto.
Thebartender.
“Excuseme?”Iasked,sureIdidn’thearhimcorrectly.Buthemadenomovetocorrecthimself.Instead,hejuststoodthere,staringatme,alittlesmirkonhisfulllipsasheglanceddownatmyphoneandbackupatme.
“Down.To.Fuck,”herepeated.“That’swhatDTFmeans.”
Mymouthpoppedopen,eyesskirtingtowhereBellehaddisappearedintothebathroom.“No…shewouldn’t.”
Thebartenderchuckled,fishingabeeroutofthecoolerbehindhimandslidingitovertoagroupofguysdowntomyleft.“Imean,fromthefirstwordsIheardhersaywhenyoutwowalkedinhere?”Hesmirkedagain.“Ithinkshewould.”
Mycheeksflushedwithheat,fingersflyingovermyphoneasIquicklyexitedthemessageandtriedtofindmyprofile.“Oh,myGod.HowdoIeditthisthing?HowdoIdeletethat?Ah!”Ithrewmyphoneonthebarwhenanothermessagecamein.“JesusChrist.”
Thebartenderlaughed,pickingupmyphonefromwhereI’dtosseditlikeadetonatingbomb.Hethumbedthroughafewscreens,typedsomething,andhandeditbacktome.
“There.Ieditedit.”Heleanedoverthebar.“But,fromthesoundsofit,youshouldhaveleftit.Imean,youarelookingforsomeonewho’sdowntofuck,right?”
Iclosedtheapp,shovingmyphoneinsidemypursewithheatstillcreepingovermyneck.“Nosy,much?”
“Hardnottooverheartwogorgeouswomentalkingaboutgettingrailedintonextyearbyahammercock.”
Ilaughedatthat,takingasipofmyvodkaasmyeyesmethis.Ifinallygotmywish,achancetostareathimalittlelonger,andboy,washefuntostareat.
Hissquarejawwaslinedwithafaintshadowofstubble,hisdarkeyeshoodedinamixtureoflustandplayfulness.Thewayhisjet-blackhairsatinastyledwaveremindedmeofaCalvinKleinmodel,andIknewwithoutasecondthoughtthatIwouldn’tmindseeinghistanskinsportingnothingbutapairofwhitebriefsonagiantbillboard—especiallyafterthatbriefglimpseIgotofhisass.
Ha!Takethat,Belle.Mylibidoisfarfrombroken.
HewasthedefinitionofwhatBellehadsaidDTFstoodfor—Dark,Tall,andFun.
“So,whichoneareyoutakingfirst?”heasked,pushingbackfromwherehe’dleanedoverthebar.Henoddedtoawomanattheoppositeend,lettingherknowhesawherrequestforarefill.Andashemadehermargarita,Ipulledmyphonebackfrommypurse,sighing.
“Truthfully?Ihavenoidea.Ihavetwomessagesalready,butIhavenoideawhattosaytothem.”
“Maybeyoushouldstartwithhi.”
“YouknowwhatImean,”Ishotback,rollingmyeyes.Iopeneduptheapp,staringatthefirstunansweredmessageagain.“Ihaven’ttalkedtoanothermanlikethissince…”Myvoicefaded,heartslinkingintomystomachwithamixtureofguiltandloss.“Well,inaverylongtime.”
“You’renervous,”hestatedplainly,walkingthenewdrinkdowntothewomanattheendofthebarbeforereturningtome.“Whydon’tyoueaseintoit,haveapracticerunbeforetherealthing?”
Icockedabrow.“AndhowwouldIdothat?”
Heshrugged,thosewickedlipscrankingintoasmirkyetagain.“Takeme.”
“You.”Ideadpanned.
Henodded.“Yeah.Takemetothefirstgame.Imean,look,”hegesturedbetweenus.“Obviously,wehavechemistry.Wecouldhaveagoodtime.I’llbuythepizzaandbeer.”
“Soundslikeyou’rejustlookingforafreetickettothefirsthomegame,”Isaid,leaningoverthebar.
HiseyesflasheddowntomycleavagethatI’dnot-so-subtlypushedupwiththatmovement,andwhentheyflickedbacktome,theywereheated—darker,dustedwithalust-filledpromiseIsomehowknewhecouldkeep.
“Maybe.”Heshruggedagain.“OrmaybeIwanttobethefirstonetohavetheprivilegeoffulfillingyourfriend’spromise.”
“Herpromise?”Iasked,justasBelleslidintothebarseatnexttome.
“WhatdidImiss?”
Thebartendertorehisgazefrommine,smilingatBelle,instead.Andthat’swhenIrealizedwhatherpromisehadbeen.
Gettingmerailedintonextyear.
Iswallowed.
“Yourfriendhereisnervoustalkingtoguysshedoesn’tknowontheapp,”thebartendersaidtoBelleasIfoughtanotherblush.“So,she’stakingmetothefirstgame,asasortofpracticerun.”
“Oh!”Belle’seyeslitupassheassessedmefirst,andthendraggedhereyesoverthebartender.Atingeofpossessivenesstouchedmychestwhensheclearlylikedwhatshesaw.Shechewedherthumbnail,nodding.“Oh,yes.Ilikethisidea.”
“Ididn’tagreeyet,”Iremindedhim.
“Okay,”hechallenged.“Thengoaheadandrespondto…”hepeeredovermyphonescreen.“Brad,there.”
HeandBellebothwatchedme,Bellefightingasmileasoneeyebrowroseonherperfectlysymmetricalface.Thebartenderwatchedmewithasatisfiedsmirkwhenmyfingersdidn’tmoveforthekeys,andmyjawpoppedopen,alaughslippingthrough.
“Wow.Youtwojustmetandyou’realreadyganginguponme.”
“Ilikehim,”Bellesaideasily.“AndIlikethisplan.”
“Youdon’tevenknowhim.Actually,”Isaid.“Idon’tevenknowhisnameyet.”
“ZachBowen,”hesaid,extendinghishandformine.“Pleasuretomeetyou.”
Ilethimtakemyhandinhis,tryingtoignorethewarm,buzzingenergythattransferredwhenourskintouched.
“She’sGemma,”Belleansweredforme,sinceapparentlymystickytonguewasgluedtotheroofofmymouth.“GemmaMancini.”
“So,GemmaMancini,”hesaid,hishandstillwrappedaroundmine,eyeshoodedandsure.“Whatdoyousay?Letmebeyourpracticeround.”
“Sayyes,stupid,”Bellewhispered.
Inudgedherwithmyelbow.
Zachheldmygazeconfidently,hisdarkeyeswatchingmelikeIreallyhadnootherchoice.Andinthatmoment,Icouldn’tthinkofareasonnottosayyes.Heseemedfun.Hewashot.
Anditwouldsavemefromthisstupidappforatleastonemoreweek.
“Fine,”Iconceded,andZach’ssmirkturnedintoafull-blownsmile,onethathadaslightdimplepoppingunderthatdeliciousstubble.
Hereachedformyphone,thescreenstillontheunansweredmessagefromBrad.Heclickedoutofit,typinghisphonenumberintoanewtextmessage,instead,andsendinghimselfanemoji.
“There.Mynumber.AndIhaveyours.Seeyouforthegamenextweekend?”
“Lookslikeit.”
Hiseyesroamedovermeoncemore,thecornerofhismouthpullingupjustslightly.“Can’twait.”
Bellenudgedmeunderthebarwithherknee,hereyeswideinanohmyGodfashion.
“Fornow,Ishouldgetbacktowork.I’llcheckonyouladiesinabit.”
“Thankyou,Zach,”Bellesaid,wavingherfingersdaintilyashemadehiswayovertotheothersideofthebar.
Shedidn’tstopstaringoncehewasgone,though.
“Damn,”shebreathed,restingherchinonthehandshe’djustusedtowavehimfarewell.“NowIreallyhopeyougetrailedintonextyear.”
Ilaughed,tryingnottopanicatthethoughtofanothermantouchingme.
Amanwhowasn’tCarlo.
Shakingmyhead,Ipulledtheappbackuponmyphone,showingBellethemessagesthathadcomethroughandlettingherswipethroughthepicturesofguysforawhile.Aswetalked,IremindedmyselfoftheonethingIalwaysneededtohear.
Iamincontrol
It’sjustafootballgame.It’sjustanightofsportsandbeerandhotdogs.IfIwanttohavesexwithhim,Ican.IfIdon’t,Icanjustgohomealone.Noharm,nofoul.Thesearemytickets,andthisismyplan,evenifitwasBelle’sidea.
Thereareeighthomegamesthisseason.That’seightdifferentguys,eightnewfriendstomake,and—onlyifIwant—eightpotentialorgasmsthatdon’tcomefrommytrustyvibrator.
Iamincontrol.
Maybethiswillactuallybefun,Ithought,laughingasBelleswipedahardleftonaguywhostatedinhisbiothathewasa“sexmachine.”SheseemedtobehavingmorefunthanIwasgoingthroughtheapp,soIletherswipeaway,contenttojustsiponmyvodkaandlistentohercommentary.
Everynowandthen,I’dfeelZachwatchingmefromwhereverhewasworkingbehindthebar.Andwhenoureyesmet,mychestwouldsqueeze,alongwithmythighs.Therewassomethingabouthiseyes,aboutthekindofheatthatsweptovermewiththatgaze.Thewayhelookedatme,itwasasifhealreadyhadmeinhisbed,betweenhissheets,onehandonmyhipandtheotherhikingmylegupashesettledbetweenmythighs.
He’donlyjustlearnedmyname,butthewayhelookedatme?Itwasasifhekneweverything—maybeevenmorethanIknew,myself.
Apracticeround…
Yeah.Thiscouldbefun.
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TannerandKelleeareperfectforeachother.Theyfrequentthesamebars,lovethesamemusic,andhavethesamedesiretoripeachother’sclothesoff.Onlyproblem?Tannerisstillinlovewithhisbestfriend.Tomyalmosthusband(!!!),Jack,thankyouforansweringallmyquestionswhilewritingthisseries.WebothknowI’mmoreofanNFLgirlmyself,sothecollegerulesconfusemeeverytime.Thanksforsettingmestraight,andforalwaysbeingthereattheendofeachdaywithakiss.Iloveyou.
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AbigshoutouttomyfriendsatValentinePRforspreadingthewordaboutthisseriesandhelpingothersfallinlovewithit.Andtoourbloggercommunity(thatincludesyou,BookstagrammersandBooktokers).NoonewouldevenknowIWRITEbooksifitweren’tforyou.You’rethebackboneofwhatwedo,andIthankyou.
Finally,toYOU,thereader.YouarethereasonIamabletodowhatIdo!Thankyouforreadingindieandforshoutingtotherooftopsaboutbooksyoulove.AspecialshoutouttothoseofyouinKandilandandwhoengagewithmeonsocialmedia.YoumakethisevenmorefuneverydayandIcan’twaitformanymoreadventurestogether!KandiSteinerisanAmazonTop5bestsellingauthorandwhiskeyconnoisseurlivinginTampa,FL.Bestknownforwriting“emotionalrollercoaster”stories,shelovesbringingflawedcharacterstolifeandwritingaboutreal,rawromance—inallitsforms.NotwoKandiSteinerbooksarethesame,andifyou’realoverofangsty,emotional,andinspirationalreads,she’syourgal.
AnalumnaoftheUniversityofCentralFlorida,KandigraduatedwithadoublemajorinCreativeWritingandAdvertising/PRwithaminorinWomen’sStudies.Shestartedwritingbackinthe4thgradeafterreadingthefirstHarryPotterinstallment.In6thgrade,shewroteandeditedherownnewspaperanddistributedtoherclassmates.Eventually,theprincipalcaughtonandthenewspaperwasquicklyhalted,thoughKanditriedfightingforher“freedomofpress.”
Shetookparticularinterestinwritingromanceaftercollege,asshehasalwaysbeenadiehardhopelessromantic,andlikestohighlightallthechallengesofloveaswellasthetriumphs.
WhenKandiisn’twriting,youcanfindherreadingbooksofallkinds,planninghernextadventure,orpoledancing(yes,youreadthatright).Sheenjoyslivemusic,traveling,playingwithherfurbabiesandsoakingupthesweetnessoflife.
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