by K. K. Allen
“Seriously? So now you hate me too? She freaked out for no reason—at least she didn’t give me one. But I guess I messed up by having other plans that I couldn’t get out of—”
“Couldn’t, or didn’t want to? There’s a difference, Zach.”
“Look.” Why am I arguing with Chloe when I should be talking to Monica? “As soon as I realized how upset she was, I came back here. But for her to get so upset over an honest mistake like that—it kind of freaks me the fuck out.”
She shakes her head at me, her face hardened with frustration. “Maybe you don’t deserve her.”
I lean back on my heels, my own frustration tearing through what once was worry. “What? Chloe, I’ve done nothing but adore that girl from the moment this all started.”
“You’re lucky that girl even agreed to spend time with you last night,” she retorts. “You haven’t figured it out by now?”
The dumbfounded look on my face tells her that no, I haven’t.
“Monica has only ever dated safe guys, if you can even call it dating. I don’t think she’s ever had a boyfriend. She prefers guys who don’t expect much from her. You’re the first one, Zach. The first one she even considered letting into her life in a more significant way.” Chloe sighs. “She can’t handle disappointment in relationships. She plays her cards just right so that she’s never let down. In her mind, whatever plans you had that made you fly out of here were more important. And she doesn’t know how to deal with that.”
“But why? You’re telling me she would have rather me disappoint a little girl—my coach’s daughter—to prove that she comes first? Don’t you think that’s a little unfair and selfish?”
Chloe’s expression transforms into sadness. “I don’t know why. That’s something you should probably talk to Monica about. There’s one thing I do know, though. Monica is the furthest thing from selfish. Sure, she might have her heart locked up tight, but who’s to say you’re not the one to find the key? Monica and I have never talked about why she’s so resistant to relationships, but I’m sure it has something to do with the shitty way her dad abandoned her family. I don’t push her on it.” She shrugs. “You don’t need to understand someone completely to be there for them. If you love them, you figure out how they need you most and step up.”
Huh. Not even Chloe knows what stirs Monica down deep. I’m not sure whether that’s comforting or frustrating. But she has a point about all that other stuff.
We grab Monica’s packed suitcase and duffle bags and head out the door. If I wasn’t so pissed off I would think it was cute that I’m crazy about a girl who manages to fill an entire oversized duffel bag with snacks.
“Don’t fuck up anymore,” Chloe says as I take the first step onto the bus. “If she even gives you a chance to.”
I narrow my eyes, ready with a clever retort, but Gavin steps up behind Chloe and wraps his arms around her. Suddenly, I remember something Monica said the other day, and my expression softens. “I heard about the engagement. Congrats.”
Chloe grins and holds up her left hand to give me an eyeful of the massive glowing rock on her finger. Damn.
“Thank you,” she says with a wide smile.
Gavin presses his lips to Chloe’s temple. “Thanks, man. Hey, take care of our precious cargo in there. We’ll see you guys on Saturday for the scrimmage.”
“You’re coming? That’s great.”
“Mastermind is a sponsor. I’m bringing a shit ton of comics for ceremony giveaways. I’m a fan of what you’re doing, dude. Anytime you need help with anything, let me know.”
Gavin’s a good guy. “I will. Thanks.”
I climb the short staircase on the bus and walk the aisle. As I search the rows for Monica, I’m slapping hands and knocking fists with my teammates, thanking them for coming.
It’s in the back of the bus I finally spot a pair of dainty, pink, sock-covered feet splayed out in the last row.
So this is why Monica needed help getting onto the bus. Her hair is strewn out in a knotted mess and covering most of her face. One of her hands has fallen limply off the seat, and her mouth hangs open.
It’s obvious that last night consisted of heavy drinking and light sleep. She’s passed out cold, halfway to snoring, and taking up the entire back seat. I take the row in front of her on the other side of the aisle so I can keep an eye on her.
As much as I want to wake her so we can get this all out in the air, I’m grateful for the time to think. I need to figure out how the hell to get her to talk to me. Because whatever issues I thought we were moving past seem to only be surfacing.
Monica stirs, and that’s all it takes for my eyes to lift. I’m not sure if I even went to sleep when my eyes fell shut, but if I did, it wasn’t enough. Today is going to be a bitch. I groan and straighten just as Balko peeks at me through the crack in the seats a row ahead of me.
“Hey, Nut-Zach.” I roll my eyes at the sound of his voice. Gotta love team nicknames. What started out as nutsack, my team’s special term of endearment for me based on my sack-free season last year, quickly turned into Nut-Zach. I don’t hate it. Don’t love it either.
“Hey, dude.” We knock fists.
I lift myself up fully to check out the rest of the passengers. Most guys are keeping to themselves, headphones on. Others are bantering back and forth. No one likes early morning wake-up calls, but it’s cool that these guys were so willing to step up and take a week out of their vacations to do this.
“Who’s the girl?” Balko asks, lifting his head quickly in a gesture that points straight to Monica, who looks like she’s trying to get comfortable and force herself back to sleep. I’m sure she feels like crap.
“That’s Monica. She works with the production team. She’s been my right hand setting all this up. Didn’t you meet her when you came into the studio for photos?”
His eyes go wide. “No shit. That’s the hot chick from the shoot? The guys and I were just talking about her the other day. She had some little pleated Catholic schoolgirl skirt on.” He groans, and I wish I could erase that sound from my mind. Instead, I smack the side of his head and sit back.
“Don’t even think about it. She’s off limits.”
Balko laughs. “You doing her, or planning on it? That’s not right. You gotta let her choose at least. A woman has her rights.”
In no mood to fight over Cakes, I force the corner of my mouth to curl up into a smile. “She already made her choice, Balko. Try anything, and you’ll eat my fist for every meal this week.”
He turns around, but I’m aware of the amusement on his face. He loves a good challenge. “Damn, dude, chill. I get it. You boned her. Doesn’t mean she wants your meat stick again, but it’s cool.” He shrugs, still facing forward. “You’re marking your territory. But if she crawls into my bed tonight, you keep your paws to yourself.”
I know Balko’s intention is to rile me up, and it’s working. I need to think of anything else to calm me down. Reactions are all he wants, and when he doesn’t get them, it only makes him push harder.
I’ve known the guy for three years, and this is him one hundred percent of the time. Always infuriating. If he so much as got an opportunity with Monica, which he won’t, he wouldn’t back away from it no matter whose girl she was. He’s not exactly a loyal dude, per his last two wives and multiple mistresses. He’s a kickass tight end, though. That’s reason enough not to pound his face for joking about Monica.
Another movement from where Monica’s lying drags my attention to her. She’s moaning a little, still appearing uncomfortable as she shifts in her seat. After a few seconds of hesitation, I cross the aisle and help her sit up against the window.
Her eyes flicker open at my touch and then narrow into a glare. “What are you doing here?”
I probably shouldn’t laugh, but I do. “Checking on you. Here.” I uncap my water bottle and hand it to her.
She stares at it, scrunching her nose
and twisting her lips around. “No.” She shoves it away. “You need to go home.”
“You’re on the bus, Cakes. We’re heading to camp.” I shift her feet and plant myself next to her, blocking her from leaving like I’m sure she’s already considering.
She turns her cute head to look out the window and groans again. “Why does my head feel like I drove it into the side of a building?”
“Maybe because you got pissed at me last night and then got wasted with Chloe and Gavin. Only, I can’t figure out why you got pissed at me and why you got so drunk when you knew you had to wake up early for camp.” I check my phone for the time. “Looks like we have two hours left in this trip, so you might as well start telling me why you hate me.”
She shoves her entire body into me, elbows first. I don’t move—much. “Get over yourself,” she says.
I turn my head, utter amazement and hurt on my face. She sees it but turns away, which just pisses me off.
“Get over myself? Monica, you are so far beyond selfish at this point, I’m not even sure why I’m sitting here.”
I don’t care what Chloe said. Monica may be a selfless person in general, but right now, she’s acting selfish.
“Then leave.” Her voice is quiet, shaky.
Fuck.
“No.” I lean in, moving a knotted strand of hair so I can see her face. “Not until you talk to me about what happened last night. I messed up, Cakes. I’m sorry. I promised Coach’s daughter I would be there, but I completely forgot about it because I’ve been so wrapped up in you. When he called, I panicked. I’m sorry I left like that, but how can you possibly be this mad?”
Monica hasn’t turned to face me yet, but her expression has softened. “I’m not good at this, Zach. I’m no good for you.”
I swear I see a sheen of gloss coating her eyes. But Monica doesn’t cry, or so she’s said.
“Most girls probably wouldn’t freak out over what happened last night,” she continues, “but I did. I’m strong most of the time, but not when it comes to this stuff. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry.”
I sigh and lean into her shoulder. “Cakes, you don’t have to be strong all the time. Let me be strong for you when you need a break. You’ve got me, you know? Whether you want to keep me in that safe pocket of a friend zone forever or finally let me have a chance to tackle you, I’m here. I’ll always choose you.”
“That was so cheesy,” she moans.
I laugh. “But it’s true.”
She bites her lip and shakes her head. “But you won’t. You proved that last night. It shouldn’t be a big deal; I get that. But to me, last night was kind of a big deal.”
I grip her chin softly between two fingers and implore her to look in my eyes. “I did choose you. But you wouldn’t know that because you wouldn’t answer your damn phone. I turned around. I came back to you. Slept on the floor outside your apartment all night. If you had shown up with a guy, so help me—” I shudder.
Her eyes widen and then shrink just as fast. “I wouldn’t have.” There’s a pause. “You really slept outside my apartment?”
“Yes. Check your phone.” She reaches for it, and I put my hand on top of hers to stop her. “Not now. Can I ask why it upset you so much?”
She shakes her head and turns back toward the window. “I’d rather you didn’t.”
I place my hand on her thigh and squeeze, then lean over and press my lips to her bare shoulder. “Okay.” I pause, wondering if I should ask my next question. To hell with it. “Did you at least have fun last night? Everyone looked pretty tired.”
Her face does that cute scrunching thing. “I just went there to get away, but then Chloe dragged me to the bar, and I can’t remember much after a few shots. I was upset and Gavin put everything on his tab, so…” She shrugs.
I chuckle lightly. “You’ll be paying for that most of today.”
“You don’t need to poke the bear.”
I poke her thigh playfully. She flinches and lets out a laugh. “Careful. I drank enough to unleash Washington apples all over you, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy? Really?”
She shrugs. “You are kind of pretty.”
With this comment, whatever tension remaining between us floats away. I lean into her again. “I’d totally kiss you right now, but I’m a little afraid of your puking status.”
A grin lights up her face. “Damn. And all this time I couldn’t figure out how to keep you away.”
We laugh, but I just can’t shake something. I kiss her shoulder, breathing her in. Even after a hard night of drinking, wild strawberry and mint still lingers on her skin. “Cakes, you know I like you. A lot. I’m just having trouble figuring out how you feel about me. I know the attraction is there and all, but I want more than that. I want all of you.” I take her hand, lace our fingers together, and squeeze. “You can’t expect me to be a perfect man to you if you’re keeping things from me. That’s hardly fair.”
She toys with my fingers one by one before she speaks. “You’re right, but I’m not ready to make any promises. I can’t.” Her eyes flutter open to meet mine. I could live in those eyes. Die in those eyes. “If you can’t be with me, I understand, Zach. I never promised this would be easy. I just admitted that I wanted to try and I wouldn’t pretend that my feelings for you didn’t exist.”
She’s right. Monica hasn’t made any other promises, and I need to respect that, but it still hurts. I’m falling for this girl way faster than she is for me, and that’s a first. It sucks, but I’m not ready to call it quits. Not yet.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I concede. “But you need to give me something.”
A sigh falls from her lips. “Zach,” she pleads.
“Just hear me out,” I say squeezing her hand. “I need you to give me this week. No walls. No overthinking this. Just you and me, Cakes.” I brush my thumb across her cheek. “If you give me this…” I swallow. “I won’t pressure you anymore. Ball will be in your court if you want to take this further.”
Her eyes fall closed for half a second, and then she peers back at me with defiance that I think is more aimed at herself than me.
“Okay.”
We arrive at Camp Dakota just before noon and head straight for our cabins. If I had it my way, I would have stolen one of the cabins for Monica and me. But apparently being a celebrity and the organizer of this event doesn’t earn me any brownie points with the facility director, who is adamant that boys and girls sleep on completely opposite ends of the camp. Which sucks because Monica will be the only woman here until tomorrow. I don’t know how I feel about letting her sleep the distance of twelve football fields away … alone and budded up against a thick of woods.
After our group grabs food in the cafeteria, we meet on the field. All of us: coaches, coordinators, some assistants from our training facility, and the production crew. Even Trevor came out to help us get organized, but he’s taking off in the morning once Meredith gets here.
Monica’s been busting her ass all day setting up equipment and arranging the production crew’s storage unit, which will also be sectioned off for interviews under the bleachers. The cameras will face the field. That was Monica’s idea. One of her many brilliant ideas that is making this event come together better than I ever could have dreamed.
I try to make eye contact with Monica as she passes out Under the Bleachers t-shirts to the staff. She’s in the zone. After our talk on the bus and her promise to give me this week, I’m antsy for attention. She’s been within eyesight all day, but I still miss my Cakes.
There’s no telling how much time we’ll get together this week, and that only deepens the ache. I’ll just have to get creative. The excitement of a good challenge stirs within me.
Turning back to my teammates, I walk them through the agenda, starting with everyone’s arrival tomorrow. Most of the event details have been kept under wraps up until now to keep the focus on what matters. It was dif
ficult enough to convince Meredith that we weren’t setting up meet and greets and cocktail functions with the parents at the end of the week. If I had it my way she wouldn’t be coming at all, but we do need her social media expertise.
It’s nearing dinnertime when we break to throw the ball around for fun.
“Hey, Cakes!” I’ve got the ball in my hand and I’m supposed to toss it to Taylor, who’s playing wide receiver about twenty yards from me. Monica’s standing on the opposite side of the field watching us when her head snaps to me. I grin. “You got this.”
The throw sails straight to her, but it’s a little short. She manages to run and catch it, and then she tosses it back effortlessly.
“Damn!”
“Holy shit. Did you see that throw?”
“PA girl’s looking for a new gig, Richie. Watch out now.”
I don’t know when or why the guys started calling Richland Richie, but it’s already stuck.
Monica laughs and takes a bow for her new fans.
“Throw it again, Nut-Zach. She won’t get it this time,” Balko calls from the end zone.
I shake my head. “No way, dude. You’ll try to crush her. We’re just having fun.”
Monica looks between us, then to me, challenge in her eyes. “C’mon. Throw it, Nut-Zach.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Hearing those words come from Monica’s mouth makes the nickname a little bit funny. “Don’t call me that again, and I’ll throw it.”
She grins. “I gotta show your friend how it feels to lose to a girl.”
Hoots and hollers come from the rest of the guys. Shaking my head in amusement, I step back and toss it extra short this time, but she already figured as much, so her timing is excellent. She clutches the ball and runs toward the end zone where Balko awaits her arrival. Instead of stopping her, or letting her go—which probably would have probably been the better option—he swoops her up by the legs so she’s hanging over his shoulder and carries her toward center field.
