by Hannah Gray
“Nah.” I shake my head. “It’s my dad’s best friend’s birthday. The guy is practically my second father.”
“Have fun,” Cole says lowly as he heads toward his truck. “Knox, you in for food?”
“Brother, I’m always in for food.” He jogs behind him. “Let’s roll. Later, Wade.”
“Later.”
After I watch them leave, I walk over to my own truck and climb in. My phone rings, and I see Andy’s name on the screen.
“Andy?” I answer. “Happy birthday, old man.”
“Who you calling old, son?” he grumbles. “And … thanks. You aren’t in the middle of practice, are you?”
“I answered, didn’t I?” I laugh.
Coach would have a coronary if I answered my phone on the field.
“Don’t be a smart-ass with me. I’ll sic my daughter on you,” he says seriously, but I know he’s joking.
“Jeez, don’t throw threats like that at me,” I toss back lightly. “I’m just getting ready to hit the road. Should be there this afternoon.” I pause. “What’s going on?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “So … Henley’s car is acting up once again. Needs to go to the shop Monday morning.”
“All right. So … she isn’t coming?” I say before a smile creeps onto my face. “Oh shit. You need me to drive her?”
“Yeah … I do. I want to see my only daughter on my birthday. She isn’t happy about this. Not even a little.”
“Say no more. I’m on my way.” I chuckle.
“Weston, before you hang up, just realize, she’s going to be angry. She was mad that I even suggested it.”
I can see her face now. A bitchy look resting on it. Irritated to have to breathe the same air as me, let alone ride in the cab of my truck with me.
“Tread lightly, son.”
“Will do. See you soon.” I end the call with a smile on my face.
She is going to be so pissed off to ride in a vehicle with me.
Well, this should be fun.
I hold my hand up and knock on the door. Moments later, a pretty girl with red hair opens the door. I recognize her right away from the fundraiser.
“Layla?”
Her eyes widen as she takes me in. “Um … hi. Weston … Weston Wade? Can I … can I help you?”
At the mention of my name, I see other girls come behind her and stand on their tippy-toes to see me.
Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I grin. “Sure. I’m looking for Henley Hayes. Think you could get her for me?”
She looks confused but nods. “Okay. Be right back.”
She shuts the door behind her, which I’m thankful for. I didn’t really want to be stared at by a bunch of random girls. All wishing I were here for them instead.
Never going to happen, ladies.
A few minutes later, the redhead opens the door and steps onto the porch. “Sorry. She, uh … isn’t here.”
“Bullshit,” I say, holding her gaze. “That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
Her cheeks turn red, and she fidgets with her hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do. I’m guessing you’re her friend.” I take my hands out of my pockets. “Glad she’s got you, but I’m going inside, and I’m getting her stubborn ass. Okay?”
Her head shakes slightly. “No … you can’t do that.”
Walking up to the door, I walk inside. “I can, and I will,” I toss over my shoulder.
All the other girls scurry to make it look like they weren’t eavesdropping.
One girl is at the top of the stairs and doesn’t seem to pay me any attention. She holds a book in one hand and a soda in the other.
“Hey,” I call to her. “Where’s Henley Hayes’s room?”
Holding the can up, she points to the third door on the left. “That one.”
“Thanks.” I take a few large strides and turn the knob.
Go figure. It’s fucking locked.
“Henley. Open up. Now,” I growl. “I don’t have all fucking day. Some of us actually have lives.”
No answer.
“All right, you leave me no choice. But no worries. I’ll be sure to have them send the repair bill to your old man.” I don’t move. I have no plans to break her door. But I might as well make her think that. “Three … two … o—”
The door flies open, revealing Henley.
“Jesus Christ! You are such a psychopath. Who breaks into a sorority house to kidnap someone?”
“Me,” I say coolly as I step around her and walk into her room. Looking around, I see pictures of her dog, Harold. A few of her mom and dad. And a few posters of her idol—Lilly King, Olympic gold medalist.
“Why do you have these up? You don’t have that dream anymore.”
She’s still standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging open. “None of your business! Why are you in my room, asshole?! There’s this thing … it’s called privacy.”
“You ready to go?” I look down at her feet. “Get your shoes on. We’re leaving.”
“No, we aren’t,” she says, annoyed. “I will try to find a ride with a friend. Or I’ll get an Uber.”
“An Uber for over three hours away?” I sit down on her bed. “Good luck with that.”
“Get off my bed,” she says through gritted teeth.
“Why? Does it make you wish you were in bed with me, riding my dick?” I tilt my head slightly. “We can make it happen. We don’t have much time, but I’m confident I can get us both off pretty quick.” I give her the smallest smirk. “I’m that good.”
A shiver runs down her body, but she tries to remain cold. “I don’t want to ride with you there. Why is that hard for you to understand? Is your brain that small?”
“Nothing about me is small, baby. Want to find out?” I lean back on my elbows. “Climb right on.”
I’m toying with her. I know she wants me out of her room. Because of the fact that the sexual tension is so thick that it’s hard to breathe. She’ll give in and ride with me to Gray if it means getting me out of her personal space.
“Fine!” she yaps and slides her shoes on. “Let’s go.”
I smirk at her and slowly get up. “Glad you see things my way.”
As she walks in front of me, her ass sways in her shorts. Making me want to grab a handful.
“I didn’t see your way, jerk. I just want to get this over with. And I love my dad.”
“If you say so, babe. I know you’re obsessed with me.”
“Oh yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “So obsessed that I have basically avoided you for over a year.”
I grasp her wrist as she walks down the stairs, and she turns around and looks at the hold I have.
“Let go.”
“Keep mouthing off, and I’ll be forced to push you onto your knees and stuff my dick into your mouth to quiet you down.” I lean forward, pushing her against the staircase wall. Feeling her chest rise and fall against mine. “How’s that sound, sweet cheeks? You loved having my finger in that pretty mouth. Imagine if I slid my cock between those plump lips.”
I can feel her body tremble at my words. Her eyes drift to my lips for a second, and I know she wants this as much as I do.
Suddenly, she closes her eyes before looking away. “Let’s just go. Okay?”
I look down at her for a second, wishing I could punish her for being such a bitch to me. Wishing I really could push her down on these stairs and make her blow me. That would be a nice start on her road to redemption.
Releasing her wrist, I nod. “Let’s go.”
eighteen
Henley
“Keep mouthing off, and I’ll be forced to push you onto your knees and stuff my dick into your mouth to quiet you down.”
Oh. My. God. Those words won’t leave my brain. So much that it’s making it hard for me to even concentrate on walking to his truck.
He’s so cruel. Yet so sexy. Yet such a monster. But so … delicious.
And no … I have no idea
how those characteristics could even go in the same sentence. But that’s what he is. He’s all of those things combined.
Opening the door, I climb inside Weston’s truck.
I look around it, wondering how many girls have sat in this seat besides me. The feeling of jealousy rears its ugly head, making that pain in my gut worsen.
As he starts the truck up, he nods toward me. “Safety first. Put your seat belt on.”
Pulling it on, I frown at him. “Like you care about my safety.”
“You’re right; I don’t. But … you’re in my truck.” He turns his lips into a crooked grin and shrugs.
He pulls away from the curb. I can’t believe I’m riding to Gray with Weston Wade. I really hope Dane isn’t coming. That would be uncomfortable if I rolled in through the door with Weston, like we were all hunky-dory.
I imagine the three of us sitting there. Awkwardly. I’d want the mashed potatoes, but it would be over near Weston. Weston would want the dinner rolls, but they’d be next to Dane.
What a nightmare.
We have barely made it off campus when Weston side-glances me. “We got a long ride, sweet cheeks. Why don’t you and I have a little chat?”
Pulling my sunglasses down, I put my feet up on his dashboard. Making myself as comfortable as I possibly can. “How about … no?”
He nods to the dash. “Why do you gotta be putting your nasty feet on my dash?”
“My feet aren’t nasty.” I look at him and smile sweetly. “And you’re the one who wanted me to ride with you so badly, so I figured I might as well make myself at home.”
He laughs lightly and shakes his head. “You do whatever you need to do, babe. Let’s just get through the next three hours.”
I look at the rearview and notice the one thing that was always hanging there is gone.
He said it kept him safe. He said he’d never take it down.
He lied.
I close my eyes and pretend to sleep. But really … I’m just thinking of that day I gave it to him.
“Good luck tonight in your game.” I wrung my hands together as my cheeks heated. It was getting painful to not reach out and touch him in a not-friendly type of way.
Pulling me into a hug, he kissed my hair. “Thanks, Hen. You’re coming, right?”
My heart sank in my chest. This was his championship game, and I had to miss it.
“I’m sorry,” I sighed. “I can’t get out of swim practice tonight. There’s just no way.”
I wasn’t lying. I’d have done anything to get out of practice to be able to watch him play. It was his junior year of high school, and he was already the best player on the team. But we had a big swim meet in a few days, and there was no way Coach was going to let me miss practice.
“It’s all right. I know how it is with practice.” He looked at me with nothing but pure understanding. “Can’t stop now if we’re going to take it all the way, right?”
Both of us had big dreams. He wanted to play in the NFL, and I wanted to be an Olympic swimmer. Neither of us could afford to slack.
Reaching into my coat pocket, I pulled out two chains. Each with a dandelion on them.
“Here … I got one for each of us.”
When I held my hand out, he didn’t take it. Causing me to panic.
“I know it’s weird. What guy wants a necklace? I didn’t think you’d wear it or anything. I just … I thought you could hang it somewhere. You know, since dandelions always bring us luck?” I pulled my hand back. My cheeks felt like they could melt off; they were so hot. “Never mind. It was … it was dumb.”
Grabbing my hand, he took one of the chains and stared at it. “Thanks, Henley.”
“You don’t have to keep it. I know I probably look like a giant dork. Giving a guy a necklace with a dead flower on it.” I cringed, hearing it out loud. “I just thou—”
His eyes met mine, and he put a finger up to my mouth, quieting me. “It’s not dumb or weird. It’s the best thing anyone’s ever given me. I’m keeping it forever.”
Taking the other one from me, he spun me around and moved my hair off to the side. His touch caused my whole body to shudder.
“There,” he said, twirling me back to face him. He pointed to the small necklace that now rested around my neck. “You’re the best.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, wishing I could melt into him.
I wished I could have said I love you. No. I’m in love with you. I always have been, and I always will be.
But I did none of that. Instead, I patted his shoulder and wished him good luck at his game.
But from that day forward, the dandelion hung from his rearview mirror. Unless he had a game. Then, he’d put it in his duffel. He swore it brought him good luck. And he said that luck was all because of me.
I open my eyes and look at the rearview mirror again. As if that chain would suddenly appear there. He took it down. He took it down because he doesn’t believe I bring him good luck anymore.
Which is fair. Because I’ve only brought him pain.
If the neckline of my T-shirt wasn’t so high, he’d see that I still had mine on. I always wear it. I just keep it hidden. I turned it backward so that the dandelion doesn’t show on the circle-shaped pendant. Why I keep it, I don’t know. I guess it’s because it’s the last part of him I have because I’ve pushed him away. I had to.
“What’s going on in that thick-skulled head of yours?” Weston drawls slowly. “Just enjoying the ride or what?”
“Something like that,” I mutter and look out the window.
It would be so easy to fall back into our old ways right now. Everything about him is familiar and comfortable. Everything about him is home.
“You been to the pool at Brooks yet?” he says, and there’s no bite in his voice. He simply sounds like a friend asking another friend a question.
“Not yet,” I lie. I don’t know why I lie.
“It’s a nice pool.” He nods. “Good program too.”
I don’t answer. I just nod in silence.
“Henley,” he says, “you’re good enough that I’m sure they’d make an exception.”
“Who says I want to be an exception?” I say protectively, turning to face him.
“You want to swim,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m not wrong. And you know it.”
“I’ve been out of the game a long time.”
For some reason, the words I’m on the swim team are stuck in my throat. Maybe it’s just awkward to say. Because then he’d think he was responsible for it because he talked to the Coach for me. Then, in his brain, he’d think I owed him for the rest of my life.
“Yeah … but you’re the best of the best,” he says flatly. “You might be a bitch. And a pain in my ass. But you’re fucking good.” Looking over at me, he shakes his head in disappointment. “What happened to you? You aren’t even the same girl.”
“I just changed.” I rattle off those three words casually. “It’s a crap excuse, but it’s all I’ve got. Can we stop pretending to be friends and go back to hating each other now?”
“You got it,” he answers coldly.
And that’s the last word we say for the long-ass ride to Gray.
My phone rings, and even though I don’t recognize the number, I answer it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Henley, it’s Coach Humphrey.”
Damn it. Now, Weston will hear my conversation and know I’m on the team.
I mean, I can’t exactly hang up on the man who, just days ago, allowed me to be on his team when I don’t deserve the spot.
“Hey, Coach …” From my peripheral, I watch Weston’s eyes turn and look at me.
“So, there are just a few other papers I need you to fill out. Size for suits, team caps, information for our annual lap-a-thon. Things like that.”
Weston turns his attention back to the road, but I know he’s hanging on my every word.
“I know I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, but I did
n’t want to forget. So, please stay after or come a few minutes before and get this stuff done, all right?”
“Of course. That’s no problem at all.”
“Great. See you tomorrow. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“Thanks. Bye.” I end the call and wait for Weston to speak.
Instead, he says nothing. He just keeps his eyes focused on the road and doesn’t say a word.
And truthfully, that makes me feel worse.
nineteen
Weston
Thank fuck we’re almost to Andy’s birthday party. The silence is worse than fighting. But I poured my heart out, telling her how good she is, wanting her to swim. The whole time, she held back that she’s already on the fucking swim team. I don’t get it—her need for secrecy. And it pisses me off.
We pull into her driveway, and the second the truck’s in park, her seat belt is unbuckled, and her hand is on the door.
“Henley,” I say lowly, “why wouldn’t you—”
“No.” She pushes the door open and climbs out. “Let’s just get through this dinner. For my dad.”
“All right,” I say as she slams my door.
I miss her. Even when she’s right next to me, I long for her. Our arms could be touching, but she might as well be on another planet. I can’t fucking stand this space between us. I crave her to be mentally, physically, and emotionally close to me. It’s like I’m losing my damn mind. She’s so close but so fucking far.
I watch her walk toward the house. Her wavy dirty-blonde hair hangs down almost to the bottom of her back, swooshing as she moves. She’s always been a daddy’s girl. I’m glad she came home for his birthday. Even if it meant riding here with me, she still came. That’ll mean the world to him.
Blowing out a breath, I push my door open and head toward the door.
Let’s get this shit over with.
“How’s football going, Weston?” Henley’s mom, Allison, says.
“You boys sure have quite the team,” Andy chimes in before taking a bite of spaghetti. Damn good spaghetti too.
Andy’s wife, Allison, actually has some good cooking skills, unlike my mother. Which makes me feel like a dick for even having that thought.
