by Maya Hughes
His lips were even hungrier than mine. He gulped me down and savored every taste with the flick of his tongue.
My knees dipped, but he had me.
His arm wrapped around my back, holding me, keeping me steady like he always did.
“I missed you.” I traced my fingers along his jawline.
“Not nearly as much as I missed you.” He peppered my face and neck with kisses, tickling me until I yelped and struggled from his grip. He didn’t let go, though—he held onto my hand, our fingers intertwined.
“I’ve loved you from as far back as I can remember.”
He huffed. “As long as you can remember?”
“Let me show you.” I took his hand and led him to the treehouse we’d hung out in as kids. Back when we were younger it had felt like it was thirty feet in the air. Now, the tops of our heads reached the bottom edge of the house his dad had made a couple summers before we’d met.
The six-runged ladder wasn’t the long scramble it had been when we were two feet shorter.
LJ followed me, and we crammed into the space that had once felt like our own house. Now we were folded into it, on our knees with our heads bumping the roof.
“I haven’t been up here in forever.” He swatted at a spider web.
This place held so many memories. I used to sneak in here sometimes to sleep when my mom didn’t come home. Somehow, staying in the dark back yard of the Lewis house was more comforting than being in my own home alone.
“What did you want to show me?”
Using the flashlight on my phone, I shined the light on the underside of the sill of the small window. We’d had a pulley set up outside the window, and would use it for water balloon ammo storage against other kids in the neighborhood. “It’s here.”
His eyebrows dipped and he rolled over onto his back, staring up at the worn wooden shelf.
I lay down beside him and stared up at the marks above us, joined together over ten years ago.
“When did you do this?” His head whipped to the side and he stared into my eyes.
“The spring of seventh grade. You guys went to Disneyworld and I hung out here for a while.”
“By yourself.” Present LJ was angry and scared for Past Marisa.
“It was comfy up here. I had blankets and everything.”
He ran his fingers over the markings in the wood. M + LJ with a heart around it.
With a Swiss army knife Charlie had given me, I lain here with a camping lantern I’d taken from their garage and etched the wood, staking my middle school claim on LJ.
I rested my head on his shoulder and hugged myself to him. “Younger me had her shit together way before I did.”
His lips brushed against my temple. “I’m glad both versions of you are in total agreement now.”
Lifting my head, I ran my fingers across his chest. “Totally.”
Tucked in on the bottom bunk of the double-sized bunk bed, we finished the last of the pizza Quinn had piping hot on the dining room table when we’d come in from the treehouse.
“I was willing to cook for you.” I picked up LJ’s discarded crust.
He shuddered. “How about a condition of us being together is that you never, ever cook for me or anyone else again unless under direct supervision?”
“Does this mean you’ll teach me how to cook?”
“I’ll try, but no promises. And no surprise meal preparation.” He leveled his crust at me.
I took it from him. “Deal.”
He handed me my soda and sat back against the wall that was still covered in posters from high school.
The high from all the declarations was wearing off, and we’d sunk into a comfortable silence like we always had.
“We should talk about Italy.”
I stopped chewing, choking down the crust half eaten. “I was thinking about that too.”
Professor Morgan would be disappointed, but…
“I don’t have to go.”
“You have to go.”
We said at the same time.
“What?” Again in stereo.
“You have to go.”
“I don’t have to go. Then we can figure things out after the draft. I can stay here, or find a local job wherever you’re going to be.”
“You worked hard for this. And it’s your dream. The season is nineteen weeks long. Twenty-three once you factor in training camp and the pre-season.”
“But—”
He pressed his finger against my lips. “Being with me doesn’t mean you have to be with me every minute of the day. As much as I’ve loved living with you for the past year, I’ll be on the road. I’ll have a workout schedule and all kinds of other things I’ll need to do. Knowing you’re off working a job you love and sharing that passion with the people around you—it’ll keep me from missing you too much. That and some pretty hot and heavy phone and video chat sessions.”
I chuckled.
“Don’t think for a second that I don’t want you there. But you need to tell me if you can honestly say you wouldn’t go regardless of what happened in the backyard.”
I leaned back, nibbling on my bottom lip. I wanted to be with him through all these big changes. Taking a moment, I thought about where that need came from. It was a place of fear and worry that somehow, being out of sight, I’d slip from his mind. That wasn’t possible. It wasn’t true. He loved me, and nothing would change that.
“I want to go.” It was whisper-quiet. Looking to him, I took his hand. “I want it.”
“Then you’ll get it. Once we know what kind of money we’re talking about, I’ll find a place in Venice. It might be a shoebox, but we’ll make it work.”
“You’d move to Italy for me?”
“For your fellowship? Of course. Between football seasons, traveling leagues back in high school, and training, I’ve barely been out of the country for more than a few weeks. I’d love to explore Italy with you.” He tucked my hair behind my ear and cupped my cheek.
This heart fluttering every time he looked at me would never get old. The idiot of the century award definitely went to me for ever doubting him.
“My parents and Quinn would love to visit too. Once you’re finished, we’ll figure it out—together.” He squeezed my hand, and the warm sureness of his skin pressed against mine filled my chest with a hopeful happiness I hadn’t thought possible. “They’d love it there. Quinn will freak.”
“I’ll freak about what?”
Quinn poked her head in the door.
“Way to eavesdrop. How long have you been out there?”
She rolled her eyes. “No eavesdropping. I wanted to let you know I’m sleeping over at Stacey’s.” Her backpack strap hung off one shoulder.
LJ sat up straighter. “Do Mom and Dad know?”
“Do Mom and Dad know you’re in here making out with Marisa?”
“Quinn…”
I held onto LJ to keep him from going full brother bear.
“That’s Stacey, love you both! Bye!” She bolted, thundered down the stairs, and slammed the door behind her.
“She’ll be fine.”
His lips thinned into an unhappy line.
I brushed my lips against his to break the gridlock. “In a few months, she’ll be in college, remember?”
“You’re right, but it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”
“True. Although her leaving does mean we have the whole house to ourselves.” I scooted away from the wall, shifting to my knees, and flicked open the top button of my shirt.
His eyes widened and dropped to my chest.
I popped one more open. “I mean, if we’re being practical here. You’ll probably want to stay here, since no one else is home. And you’ll be close by in case Quinn needs anything.” The top of my bra peeked out from between the gap in my shirt.
“You make a persuasive argument.”
I ran my hands over his chest and pushed him down onto his back. Throwing a leg over his hips, I wor
ked my fingers down over the rest of the buttons on my shirt.
His hands shot out and he stilled mine. “Since we are both in confession mode, there’s one other thing I have to tell you.”
My hands froze and my muscles locked.
“Since we’ve promised not to keep secrets anymore, I need to confess I subsidized your rent for The Brothel and took out an extra loan to cover the difference.”
I shot up, slamming my head into the bunk above me. “You did what?”
He sat up and rubbed the spot on the top of my head.
Swatting his hands away, I cursed his name. “Are you serious? Why would you do something so stupid? An extra loan? What if you don’t get drafted? What if you’re walking across the street and a runaway bus runs you over? Of all the stupid—”
He cut off my rant with a kiss.
I melted into it before breaking apart. “No, you’re not going to win that easily. Why—”
“Because I love you. And I knew you wouldn’t take the help, so I did it for you.”
My head dropped back and I stared up at the slats of the bunk with pictures of us slotted in them.
In his own annoyingly perfect way, he’d protected me. Even if I didn’t like his methods, I couldn’t doubt the outcome. “When you put it like that…I’m paying you back.”
“I’m sure we can work out a generous payment schedule.” His hands gripped my ass and he pulled me forward until I fell against his chest. Our lips met and we were in a race to see who could get the other undressed first. No matter who was victorious, we were both winners.
Epilogue
LJ
I sat in the room buzzing with anticipatory energy I’d never felt before—not before playoffs or a championship, not even before signing the letter to come to Fulton U. Fifty ten-seater tables were crammed into the room with pro banners hanging behind a stage with a podium and a massive LED screen.
Cameras were set up all over the perimeter of the room in the belly of Madison Square Garden. My feet rested on a cable bundle taped down to the concrete floor. I was surrounded by players, agents, and parents decked out and ready for the big moment.
Roving cameras moved throughout the tables, stopping off for interviews with the other draft prospects. An electric energy reverberated in the room. Everyone sized everyone else up, trying to work out when their name would be called. It would be the difference between an eight-figure signing bonus and a five-figure one, and contracts for tens of millions spread out over a few years.
When my agent called, nearly bursting my ear drum to let me know I’d gotten the invite, so many of my worries had fallen away. I’d be selected tonight, the question now was when and where.
Marisa slid her hand onto my leg and squeezed, tickling me right behind my knee.
I jerked forward, trying to knock her hand loose.
She leaned in and whispered in my ear. “No matter what, we’re all here for you and we love you.” Her peck on my cheek calmed some of the nerves bouncing off the walls inside my head.
Sucking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes and leaned back in my chair. A contented calm washed over me.
My mom leaned over. “Should we all get a peck on the cheek from Marisa, if it’ll calm us down like that?”
Marisa laughed. “Kisses for everyone.” She hopped up and pecked Mom and Dad on the cheek before taking her seat.
Her comfort with my parents had always warmed a special place in my heart, but now it meant even more to me. Our lives would be forever entangled, intertwined in an inseparable way, and I wanted her to know they’d always love her as much as I did. Flashes strobed through my head of how I’d loved her all last night and this afternoon before we got dressed up to come down to the draft ceremony.
Okay, maybe not exactly the way I did, but she’d always be a daughter to them.
Finally being able to tell everyone had been a relief. Berk walking in on us making out during our spring break party had certainly sped up our timeline for making things official. But I wouldn’t have had it any other way—not that sneaking about wasn’t hot as fuck for a while.
The lights strobed and the announcements began. The team with who’d had the worst season had the first draft pick. Utah. Marisa’s grip tightened on my hand beside the place settings on the table.
The face of the commissioner of the league loomed over us on the giant screen. He was out on the field packed with fans from the different teams, all cordoned off in sections with faces painted and waving flags.
My lips brushed over the shell of her ear. “They need a QB way more than a linebacker.”
The announcement was made and the other side of the room broke out into cheers. Polite applause followed.
Through the heads of a few people, I spotted Berk with his agent still on the phone. Jules waved at us and we waved back.
The newly minted professional quarterback walked toward the doorway leading out to the screaming fans. A clip package played on the screen and he was handed his hat on the walk up to the podium for even more pictures.
Player after player was selected and took their walk out to the stage. Agents, managers, and parents were all on phones fielding calls, screaming and laughing together.
The food and drinks on the table sat untouched. Berk hadn’t come back to his table after being the seventeenth draft pick. He’d even shaken hands with the STFU asshole he’d fought on his way out to the podium as the fifteenth draft pick. From a fistfight in the tunnel in the middle of a game to handshakes. I guess the promise of a few million had a way of calming people the hell down.
But not me. At least not yet.
My freshly tailored suit would need dry cleaning with the sweat situation I had going on. From almost anywhere in the Northeast, I’d be a ten-hour flight from Marisa. My parents would be able to come to games, and I could drop by and visit Quinn.
Marisa rubbed her hand on my neck and rested her head on my shoulder.
There were no issues with PDA now. Not that we were making out in front of my parents, but I didn’t take the ability to take her hand or kiss her or hug her no matter where we were for granted.
“With the thirty-first pick of the draft, Philadelphia selects.”
We all held hands, gripped way too tightly.
“LJ Lewis, defensive lineman from Fulton U.”
Our table erupted. Thirty-one. Elation exploded, erupting from every angle. I was tackled. Arms wrapped around me, rocking me back and forth. Their grins were touchdown-pass wide, just like mine.
I straightened my suit and held onto Marisa’s hand. I walked toward the doorway, not letting go until the last moment, our fingertips skimming across one another.
Walking out onto the stage, the fans in the Philly section cheered. The video roll played and the commentators spoke over it all. I took the hat from the commissioner and shook his hand, posing for pictures and trying not to grin like an absolute moron. No such luck.
When I left the stage, my agent was already in the walkway before the green room spouting off numbers and names. And the main number. My signing bonus and contract terms.
My hand shot out, bracing myself on the wall. I didn’t need a concussion from learning I was one signature on the dotted line from becoming a millionaire.
“Just give me a second, Glenn.” I stared at the jerseys lining the wall leading to the green room and imagined having one with my name on it. Everything drowned out and I spotted myself in the reflection of the framed jerseys with my Philly hat. “I did it.”
A lightness. A release of tension. A feeling radiating straight through my chest that should’ve been a beam cast in the sky. I’d done it.
The SUV pulled away from my parents’ house. I held onto Marisa’s hand, running my fingers over her knuckles. We’d driven down after the draft instead of staying in New York. There would be time for that later, but we only had two weeks left of The Brothel and our time living all together.
“I can’t believe we only have two
weeks until graduation. This semester feels like it’s lasted a year.”
She looked at me in the way she never shied from now, the one that never failed to charge straight to my heart like jumper cables attached to a fresh battery.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Running my thumb along the side of her knee, I pulled it out and checked my message. “Rain check on our private celebration. We’ve got an important matter to attend to back at the house.” I showed her the screen.
Her eyes widened and she grabbed her bag, digging around inside and finding a hair tie. She piled her hair on top of her head in a tactical bun, and her face meant business.
The driver dropped us off in front of the house and we rushed inside. The trace of light from the kitchen didn’t make it out to the living room window, but we knew they were there. Extra cars were parked on the street outside the house.
Inside, we were met with our first full house in a long time. There were old and new roommates, along with the ladies who’d won their hearts. Reece and Seph, Nix and Elle, Berk and Jules, and Keyton with flashlights in hand.
Nix cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the ceiling. “It seems we have three pro football players in the house.”
The room collapsed into a chaotic strobe of flashing lights and cheers, hugs, and laughter. Raised voices went over every detail of the night. Keyton hadn’t been invited to Madison Square Garden, but he’d been drafted in the third round, heading out to LA with the Lions. Berk was going to Boston. And I’d be staying here in Philly.
Reece stepped to the center of our circle. “Okay, enough of all this celebrating. You know what we’re all here to do.”
Looks of determination settled over everyone’s face. “We’re changing things up tonight. It’s going to be men versus women.”
All the women shifted to one side with a challenging glint in their eyes.
Keyton stepped forward. “No crossing enemy lines. No making out with the enemy.” His shoulders relaxed a little and he softened. “I mean for my sake. Please, no making out. I’ve been scarred enough already.”
