A shadow passes over it and I smile.
“Rose, I know you’re there. Answer the door.”
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t even say anything.
I knock a second time.
Rose answered the door last time. It was irresistible; that final chance to give in to something she really wanted — something she desired. I’ve never forgotten how good it felt that first night when the lock finally slid free and she stepped out to look for me.
She’ll do it again. She’ll look at me with that amused annoyance on her face; arms crossed and bold. Then, I’ll kiss her and everything will be okay again.
I step to the side and rest against the wall, out of sight of the peephole just like I did before, silently waiting while I count every breath.
Soon, my pulse sinks back to its normal rhythm and the sweat dries on my brow.
She doesn’t answer.
Chapter 22
Rose
Rock bottom. That’s what this is.
No amount of pep-talk from Daisy could prepare me for how awkward and horrible this week has been.
Just ignore him. Forget about him. You’re the queen and he’s just a pathetic bee. He doesn’t matter.
Ignoring John Kirby would be a lot easier if he weren’t parked in the front row of my fucking class. He’s always there, watching me with squinting eyes, following every move I make, listening to every word I say. Every time I think I’ve mastered the art of forgetting he’s there, my eyes gravitate toward him again and everything that’s happened comes right back to the forefront of my mind.
Chemistry, Rose. Stick to the Chemistry.
“If the number of electrons is more than the number of protons in the nucleus, the atom becomes negatively charged.”
John chuckles softly to himself.
I turn away from him, trying hard to ignore it but my tongue moves on its own. “Is there something you’d like to add, Mr. Kirby?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “An entire atom changed because of a few negative charges. Just seems a little unreasonable to me.”
The class snickers, their expressions stuck between confusion and amusement.
I stare at John. “Well, it’s not unreasonable at all, actually. One spare electron is all it takes to alter the very state of an atom.”
“Sounds like the protons should just get over it,” he mutters.
I raise a brow. “Oh, really?”
“Yeah, I think that would make the atoms very happy.”
“No, I think that would only teach electrons that their negative charges are acceptable behavior.”
He throws up his hands. “Maybe an atom deserves a second chance sometimes. One spare electron isn’t the end of the world.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
He scoffs. “I disagree.”
“Science doesn’t care whether or not you agree, John.”
“Science changes every day, Ms. Hawthorne! I don’t think it’s too much to ask for a little further experimentation before making a huge mistake.”
I grit my teeth. “Maybe experimentation is what got the atoms into this situation in the first place!”
“Ms. Hawthorne…” Dr. Zach rises from his seat by the door and I cringe, falling silent and John does the same. “Class dismissed.”
The class pauses for a long moment before finally standing up from the chairs, moving fast to get out of here as quick as possible, John included. I keep my head down, too ashamed to even look at them until the rustling of feet finally stops.
Dr. Zach crosses his arms and stares at me. “Well, I’m not sure what to say…”
“That…” I clear my throat. “That wasn’t what it looked like. I can explain—”
“Oh, I am no stranger to subtext, Rose,” he says. “It’s very clear to me what just happened here.”
“I’m sorry, Dr. Zach. It won’t happen again.”
“You’re right. It won’t because you’re suspended from teaching this course. Effective immediately.”
My jaw drops. “What? No, I—”
“There are plenty of other graduate students just waiting for an opportunity like this, Rose,” he says. “Students who would never publicly disrupt a learning environment with personal drama and, up until now, I thought you were among them.”
“I am.”
“Apparently not.” He turns toward the door. “You were given a perfectly reasonable set of ethical guidelines; guidelines that you have violated, and I can’t ignore that.”
“Dr. Zach, please.”
“I’m sorry, Rose,” he says, his voice dry and cold. “I’ll take over the class from here.”
I stand still, barely breathing as he walks out into the hallway.
Nope, I was wrong. This feels a little more like rock bottom.
“Rose…”
I look up to see John standing in the doorway and I shake my head at him. “No,” I say, grabbing my things. “Go away.”
He steps into the room. “I am so—”
“Don’t you dare,” I seethe. “No, you don’t get to keep apologizing to me. I don’t think I can take another one.”
“I should have kept my mouth shut—”
“Kind of like right now.”
“Rose—” He moves in front of me. “What can I do? Please. Tell me what you need and I’ll do it.”
I swallow the tears down but the lump builds even larger in my throat. “Actually, you know what? There is something you can do, John. You can disappear.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I don’t? Look around you. I’ve lost everything. I’ve lost my job, my reputation — hell, an argument could be made about my innocence, too, probably—”
“Rose—”
“I’ve lost everything because of you but look at you.” I gesture at him. “Not a fucking scratch.”
He shakes his head once. “That’s not true.”
“You get your trifecta. You get your football championship. You experience no real consequence for any of this at all. No one’s stepping up to take anything from you when you’re the one that started this. Does that seem fair to you?”
“No,” he says.
I nod slowly and a tear falls down my cheek. “You can disappear now, John.”
“Rose…”
I ignore him and walk outside into the hallway, refusing to stop until I march out of Prism Hall into the quad. He must have gotten the message. Good. The last thing I want is to bicker with him in the middle of campus.
“Whoa, baby!”
I stop and look up to see Douglas Floyd’s fucking smirk.
He raises his sunglasses and sets them on his head while he looks me up and down. “Rose, you sure are hot when you’re pissed.”
Rage boils within me and my reflexes snap. I jolt forward and kick upward with my knee, nailing him hard in the groin before I even realize what I’m doing.
Douglas doubles over onto the sidewalk, grunting as pain fires through him. Onlookers cringe. Some laugh and whip out their phones to snap a picture.
“Fuck you, Douglas,” I murmur as I pass around him.
The crowd makes a path for me, slinking back in fear but I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to cross paths with me either right now.
* * *
I thump up the stairs of my apartment building, each step feeling heavier than the last. My short-term memory has officially gone bye-bye, as I don’t quite remember how I got home. I run on autopilot, pausing as I arrive at my door and reaching into my bag to sift through the bottom to locate my keys.
The door swings open and I jump as terror twists my nerves.
“Surprise!”
I blink and grip my chest. “Holy shit…” My mirror image looks back at me, except this one is missing glasses. “Daisy?!”
My sister grins and lunges forward, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace.
“What are you doing here?” I laugh.
“Are you kidding?” she ask
s, pulling me inside. “Some asshole hurt my sister. I dropped everything as fast as I could and hopped on the first flight out here.”
“You didn’t have to do that…”
“It’s already done. Now…” She raises her closed fists. “Point me at him.”
I collapse against her again, burying my face in her shoulder as tears finally spill out.
“Okay… I guess I arrived just in time,” she says, patting my back. “What happened?”
“I just got fired,” I say, my voice muffled.
“Because of John?”
“Because of John... and me, I guess.”
She deflates and leads me to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll make us some coffee.”
I fall against the pillows, hugging them tightly. “There’s some whiskey in the fridge!”
“I’ll make us some Irish coffee, then...”
Chapter 23
John
I pause, trying to remember how many drinks I’ve had but I just can’t. Usually, this means I should stop drinking. This is especially true tonight. The final game is tomorrow. I should be downing protein shakes and carbs to fuel up in preparation but that just doesn’t quite give me the same buzz I need to make it through every hour of the day.
As always, the last pre-game party of the year is the largest. The house itself lurches on its foundation and I don’t envy the cleanup Ty and Grant will have to do tomorrow, but it’s usually worth it. Usually. Tonight, I just can’t bring myself to give a shit.
Grant walks up and lays a hand on my shoulder. I prepare for some of his unique brand of sass, but to my surprise, he says nothing. He just offers me a kind nod before slipping another cup of beer into my empty hand.
“Thanks, man,” I mutter, taking a sip.
He wanders off and I sink a little deeper into the couch while I stare at my phone. No returned texts. No emails. Rose wasn’t messing around when she told me to disappear. She’s officially crossed me out of her life. Denying my existence, as she put it before.
As my fingers swipe and tap out another text, a shape rushes through my peripheral vision. Short, blonde. It’s so common and familiar that I can’t help but twitch in its direction.
I shake it off and take another drink, staring hard into the emerging bottom of my cup. As I lower it down, she passes in front of me again across the house and stops as soon as her eyes lock on me.
I squint at her and all her features come into focus.
“Rose?” I mutter, excitement building in me.
She steps toward me as I stand up from the couch to try and embrace her.
Suddenly, her features look tainted. My thoughts work slowly through my buzzed state, but the obvious conclusion finally strikes me as she halts in front of me. Either Rose has started wearing contact lenses and skinny jeans and shrunk about an inch in height or this is—
Her palm strikes my cheek, firing a deep pain through my eye socket and I clench my jaw.
“Okay…” I say, rubbing my face. “You are not Rose.”
She smiles. “Head of the class, Johnny.”
I look into her eyes — the exact same eyes as Rose’s but each one is nearly hidden behind a thick ring of black eyeliner. “It’s nice to meet you, Daisy.”
She stretches her petite stature as she gazes around the room. “Is there somewhere more private we can go to converse?”
“Sure.” I gesture for her to follow me down the hall, dodging the gasped expressions of those nearby.
So, this is Rose’s twin sister. Strangely, I pictured her to be more… you know, identical, but Daisy seems more like an evil doppelganger than a straight genetic duplicate. I glance back occasionally to make sure she’s not readying a shiv to shank me with, but she just glares up at me with those hateful, black eyes.
I lead her to the rear of the house and push open the door to Junior’s old bedroom at the end of the hall. Thankfully, it’s empty. I guess we caught it between random hook-ups.
Daisy kicks the door closed behind us and glares around with an upturned nose. “Smells like… ugh, never mind.” She leans against the dresser, just barely touching it, while I plop down on the bed with my beer still clenched in one hand.
“So, what brings you all the way out here, Daisy?”
“Oh, I just love the Midwest this time of year,” she sneers. “The leaves change, the birds migrate, and — oh, yeah — it’s football season, so jerks like you line up to hurt my sister.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt Rose…” I say, emptying the rest of my drink down my throat and tossing the cup aside. “It was all just a…”
“A big misunderstanding?” she asks, smiling with anger. “An accident? Like you just tripped and fell into the middle of a giant douchebag challenge?”
“A mistake,” I say. “It was a stupid, selfish mistake that I’ve already apologized for, but I’ll have to live with it.”
Daisy stares me down. “Rose…” She bites her lip. “How can I put this? Okay... Rose is a delicate flower. She’s fragile and sometimes needs to have the thorns trimmed away so she doesn’t accidentally hurt herself. You following me so far, quarterback?”
“Halfback.”
“Yeah, I don’t care. I am a fucking daisy,” she continues. “I grow around the rose. I compliment the rose. I might be smaller, less elegant, and occasionally crazy, but if you try to bring harm to said rose, I will spread like a virus and fuck up your flower beds. You get me?”
I squint. “What am I in this metaphor?”
“Depends,” she pushes off the dresser and steps closer, “you can either be the nice, comfy flower bed that nurtures her, or you can be the thorn I pluck away. It’s up to you.”
“So...” I furrow my brow, “you’re here to pluck me?”
She pauses. “Kind of.”
“Or... if I’m the flower bed, won’t I also be nurturing you?”
“Whatever. It’s not a perfect metaphor. I’m improvising.” She waves her hands. “Forget about the flower stuff and work with me here, halfback.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Daisy, and I admire your charisma.”
She nods. “Thank you.”
“I just don’t think redemption is an option on this one.”
“And you’re probably right. You fucked up. I’ve never seen Rose this pissed off before. At anything.”
I shrug. “Well, there you go.”
“But…” she gives a half-smile, “I’ve also never seen her as happy as when she was with you. And I’ve seen my sister fall hard. When she gets a crush, it literally crushes her, but she always got back up again. This time is different.”
My chest sinks. “Is she okay?”
“No. Her heart is broken and she lost her job — both of which are more or less your fault.”
“I know.”
“But,” she sighs, “I’m taking partial responsibility for this problem. I was the one who pushed her to break the rules and go out with you in the first place.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what I would have done. However, contrary to what our DNA might suggest, Rose and I are two vastly different people.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I stand up off the bed. “So, what am I supposed to do? She won’t see me. She won’t return any of my calls or my texts or my emails…”
“Shit, I don’t know.” She shrugs. “If you’re as smart as she claims you are, you’ll find some other way to get her attention and fix this. Make it right. And fast. There’s only so many tears a girl can shed before the petals wither and she dies of thirst.”
I pause with confusion. “I thought we were done with the flower metaphor.”
She cringes. “Once I start, it’s kinda hard to stop.”
I nod. “You really think she’ll forgive me?”
“It’s what I’d do,” she murmurs, “but… you know. Rose.”
“Yeah…” The guilt in me burns a little more. “Rose.”
Daisy inhales a deep breath.
“I like you, halfback. You’re funny, oddly charming, and smoking hot.”
“… Thank you.”
“But Rose needs more than that. She deserves more.”
“I agree.”
“So…” She spins around and yanks the door open. “Be more.”
I stand still as she steps out into the hall. “Thanks, Daisy.”
“Oh, don’t thank me,” she says, raising a brow. “I was never even here.”
“Right…” I chuckle, understanding her meaning.
She gives a final nod before disappearing into the crowd.
Rose deserves more. Of course, she does. Rose deserves the fucking universe handed to her on a golden platter, but I really am just a big, dumb jock. Always have been. I don’t deserve her. I never did but I took what I wanted anyway and now I have no idea how to even begin fixing this.
I move through the house, keeping my head down as I make my way toward the front door. Whatever the answer is, I’m sure as hell not going to find it in here, surrounded by booze and women throwing themselves at me. Women like—
“You look upset, John.”
I feel her hand grasp my arm as I step outside onto the porch, gently tugging at me to come back inside. Stephanie flashes a soft wink and presses her chest against the door frame to pooch out her cleavage a little more.
I slide my arm free. “Maybe.”
“Are you leaving?” she asks, following me across the porch and down the stairs. “I’ll come with you… give you some company.”
“No, thanks, Steph.”
She frowns, letting out a thick, twisted sigh as she slams her heel into the grass. “Goddammit.”
I pause at her sudden outburst. “What?”
Her face tilts with a mean pout. “Junior’s married, Ty’s gay, and you’re…”
“Preoccupied.”
“Whatever the hell that means,” she says. “What’s a girl supposed to do to get a little dick around here?”
I laugh. “You have my sympathies, Stephanie.”
“That doesn’t help me.”
“Actually…” I look her up and down as sobering clarity takes hold of me. “I think we can help each other.”
The Bad Baller Collection Page 34
