The Heartbreaker

by Claire Contreras

  “Seriously?”

  “I missed you at the barbecue today,” he says.

  “I didn’t miss going.”

  “Jo.” He sighs heavily.

  “I don’t want to talk, Lawrence. You’ve said and done enough. Can’t you just leave me alone?”

  “Coach wants me to ask you . . . ” He steps forward tentatively and I notice he’s holding a paper in his hand. “I swear I didn’t come up with this idea.”

  “What is that?” I eye him and the paper.

  “Coach thinks you should sign this NDA.”

  “NDA?” I blink. “You’re kidding me.”

  “They’re going to draft me after this season and I have to tie up loose ends.”

  “Loose ends?” I scoff. “I’m a loose end?”

  “No.” He takes another step forward. “I mean, according to him, yes.”

  “Do I look like a person who wants revenge?” I search his blue eyes. It’s crazy how I thought he was so damn hot before. He still is, but now that I know he’s also a cheater and a liar and a manipulator I no longer find him attractive. “If I wanted revenge, I would have keyed your car or slashed your tires or something.”

  “I think he’s afraid you’ll speak to reporters.” He flinches as he says the words and that and the way he’s cowering are the only signs that the man I once loved is still in there somewhere.

  “Let me see the paper.” I yank it from his hand when he extends it to me. It’s basically a one-page summary of all the things I can’t do if I sign it—speak about Lawrence in a bad light, write a tell-all book, I snort-laugh at that one and look at him. “As if you’re so interesting that anyone will want to read a tell-all book about you.”

  “Can you please just sign it?”

  I hold a finger up to silence him and keep reading. My heart hammers when I read the last point in the contract. The one that says I will not go to the authorities or university with any information that may defame his character.

  “I need to think this over.” I fold the page in half and look up at him. “When do you need it signed by?”

  “Preferably by the end of the week. I mean, really he wants it done tonight, but I can stall.”

  “I just . . . I need a moment.”

  “I understand.” He swallows. “I truly am sorry, Jo.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “I’ll pay you. Whatever you want, I’ll pay you once I sign my NFL contract.”

  “I don’t want your money.” I scowl. “I don’t want anything from you. Don’t you get that?”

  “I do. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”

  I nod and bite the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting to his apology. I walk him to the door and lock it after he leaves. Somehow, I’m able to finish cleaning and get in my car before I completely lose it, sobbing uncontrollably. I once saw my mother crying in the driveway. Really crying. So much that I thought someone had died. I ran down the stairs and waited for her in the kitchen, heart in my throat, fully expecting her to say that when she walked in. Instead, she smiled wide and gave me a hug as if nothing happened, as if she hadn’t been crying hysterically out in the driveway. I never asked her about it, but I think about it a lot these days, when I find that the only refuge I really have is this beat-up old car with no functioning radio.

  When I pull up to the house and park, I notice there are two cars there. One belongs to Jagger and the other is a white Lexus I’ve never seen. I wipe my face and take a breath as I walk up the walkway and up the steps. If he’s in his room with a woman tonight I think I’ll scream. Then again, if he’s in his room with someone, it would mean he’d leave me alone. Still, there’s a nagging feeling sitting in the pit of my stomach as I unlock the front door. When I open the door, I’m greeted by Jagger, Jordan from the other night, and three girls I’ve never seen before. Two of them are sidled up next to Jagger while he leans forward on the couch, completely ignoring them and keeping his eyes on the Madden game he’s playing. Another girl is on the other couch beside Jordan, with her legs on his as he also plays the game and ignores her. “Hey,” Jordan says, looking up at me momentarily.

  “Hey.” I look at him, then at Jagger, then the three girls.

  “Hi,” two of them say. I give a wave. Jagger ignores me completely.

  “We have a few slices of pizza left,” Jordan says. “Pepperoni.”

  “Thanks.” I feel myself smile a little even though he’s no longer looking at me and I’m already moving to the kitchen and out of their line of vision.

  I open the fridge and am pleasantly surprised with how organized it is. Jagger lined up all of the sodas, sports drinks, beer, and water. He also put everything away in a way that’s easy to find, from vegetables to fruits. I grab a bottle of water and open the pantry to see it’s in the same shape as the fridge. I grab a handful of cashews and a banana from the counter. I start eating the cashews because I hate taking things like that to my room.

  “What the fuck,” Jordan screams, while Jagger laughs. “Damn you. I thought I had you that time. I’m gonna go outside to smoke.”

  “I’ll come with,” one girl says.

  “Do you have anything to drink besides water?” another asks.

  “Let’s pre-game before the party,” another says.

  “Shit. At what time is the party?” Jordan asks.

  I walk to my room as they discuss whatever party it is they’re going to. Hopefully they’re going somewhere and it’s not a party that Jagger decided to have here without consulting me. Honestly, even if he somehow decided to pull that, I don’t care. I’m spent. I’d probably sleep through it anyway. I’m pushing my door open when I see Jagger walking in my direction, his light brown eyes taking me in and zoning on my face.

  “What happened to you?”

  “Huh?” I push my door open and walk in, setting my snacks down on my nightstand along with the folded-up white paper I’ve been holding on to since I saw Lawrence. “What do you mean?”

  “Did something happen?” Jagger asks behind me.

  “How would you know? It’s not like you even bothered to look at me when I got here or say hello like a cordial human being. Your mother would not be pleased.”

  “At least my mother knows I’m living with you.”

  “You told her?” I gasp, turning to face him quickly.

  “Of course I told her. Don’t worry, she won’t tell Rosa.”

  “Right.” I scoff. “Because they don’t gossip all the time.”

  “I asked her not to tell your mother and she won’t.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He searches my eyes and for a moment I think there may be a flicker of concern in his before I look away. Instead of answering, I gather my pajamas and underwear and brush past him, locking myself in the bathroom. Even with the door between us I can see the shadow of his feet on the other side of the door. “Some privacy, please,” I call out.

  “You act like I walked in there with you.”

  “No, but you’re standing on the other side and I need to pee.”

  “Performance problems?” I hear the smirk in his voice and roll my eyes.

  “Don’t you have a video game to play? Girls to screw? Whatever it is you were planning on doing before I walked in the house.”

  He doesn’t answer, but he does step away from the door and I go back to doing my business. Instead of just washing my hands and going back to my room, I decide to shower. Standing under the spray of warm water always helps me forget my problems. I lose track of how long I’m in there, but when I’m done, I towel dry my hair for a few minutes before getting dressed in my favorite gray cotton shorts and cropped Duke T-shirt. I should get rid of it being that I’m not planning to attend any Duke football games this season, but Misty goes there now so I wear it with pride. I notice Jagger’s door is open as well as mine and the television looks like it’s off. I assume they left and tiptoe to my room, shutting the do
or behind me.

  “So.” Jagger’s voice makes me jump.

  “What the hell, Jagger?” I whip around to see him sitting at the edge of my bed, watching me with a bemused expression on his face that I want to slap off.

  “You took forever. I bet you used up all the hot water.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Waiting for you to tell me what’s wrong, but I figured it has something to do with this.” He taps the paper on my nightstand.

  “You’re going through my stuff?” I walk forward, snatching the paper from the nightstand and backing away quickly. “Get out of my room. I thought we set boundaries.”

  “We did.” He stands and walks over to me. “I never said I intended to follow them.”

  “What’s the point if you’re not going to follow them?” I know I should lower my voice, but I can’t. I also can’t seem to stop shaking. “I can’t believe you went through my things.”

  “I didn’t. I walked in, sat on your bed, and the paper fell. I picked it up and looked at it. I didn’t read the entire thing, but I figured it’s an NDA for Lawrence.”

  “You just . . . figured that without reading it?” I shake my head.

  “I have the same ones. It’s pretty standard.”

  “Pretty standard.” I blink. “It’s standard to make your ex-girlfriend of nearly three years sign a paper that says she won’t talk about you?”

  “It is now that he’s going pro.”

  “And you? Are you going pro?”

  He looks away. It’s the third time in my life I’ve ever seen Jagger look unsure of something. The second was at my parents’ barbecue. The first was . . . that time that I can’t even bring myself to think about without my entire body heating up and me feeling like I need to flee.

  “Tell me.”

  “You tell me first. What’s wrong? Are you upset because of this?” He taps the paper in my hand, his gaze on mine again, and I realize we’re standing a little too close to each other and we’re in my bedroom and something inside me is blooming too fast for me to stomp and kill it.

  I nod my head and lick my lips. His eyes clock the movement momentarily before he looks back into my eyes.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “No. Do you want to talk about why you’re avoiding the conversation about you playing again?”

  “No.”

  “Okay then.”

  He takes one step closer, his warmth enveloping me quickly. I feel myself take a breath and struggle to let it out with the way he’s looking at me. “Unless we trade a secret for a secret?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I whisper.

  “I think you do.” He’s so close now I have to tilt my head to keep meeting his eyes.

  “Why do you care so much?”

  “Because you look like you’ve been crying and that kills me.”

  My heart slams into my chest. “Why?”

  “I don’t know.” He lets out a soft breath that tickles my forehead. “I only know what I feel.”

  “I can’t.” I swallow and take a step back. “This can’t happen.”

  Roommates. We’re roommates. This can’t happen. Last time it happened he basically turned his back on me for good and right now I can’t handle one more bad thing. Jagger gives one single nod, searches my eyes one last time, and leaves my room, shutting the door softly behind him.

  “By the way, burn the shirt you’re wearing,” he says from the other side of the door. “Or I’ll go through your things and burn it myself.”

  That shouldn’t make me laugh. It definitely shouldn’t make me feel like my skin is on fire or make me want to open the door and yank him back in here, but all of those things are true. I fight the urge to do the last one though because I know it’s a horrible idea to sleep with my roommate, especially when my roommate is Jagger Cruz.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jo

  I take a seat near the door, a few seats down from the seat Jagger claimed for himself. I left the house extra early today and won’t be returning until after I help clean Dad’s practice tonight. It’s not that I’m avoiding Jagger per se, but I also don’t want to run into him right now. I know it’s impossible not to face him. We live together, we have this class together, and for some strange reason I can’t seem to stop seeing him everywhere. Well, the reason isn’t that strange. The last few years I’ve been able to avoid most people who attend my university because I was so busy hanging out with the Duke kids. Now that I’m here for real, I know it’s just a matter of time before I start running into people I’d avoided during that time, like my old teammates, and Jagger. Specifically Jagger Cruz. I’m purposely staring at my phone, texting Misty and asking her inconsequential things like how her night was and whether or not she got into the journalism class she needed. Mostly, I’m avoiding looking up out of fear that I’ll see Jagger and he’ll see me and I just . . . I need a moment. He almost kissed me last night. He would have if I hadn’t pulled away. Part of me is screaming what is wrong with you? And the other part knows I’m not ready for that, and even if I was, Jagger Cruz is definitely not the one. He’s not. Yes, he’s ridiculously good-looking and his body is a work of art. Yes, he’s kind and charming and all the things women look for in a man. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s an athlete and women flock to him, and at the end of the day, he’s a man and I generally don’t trust men anymore.

  When the professor starts speaking, I finally set my phone aside and look up, ready to take notes. In doing so, I inadvertently look around and find that Jagger isn’t sitting anywhere near me. He’s on the other side of the classroom, in the middle row, with a woman sidled up to his seat. Not a woman. That woman. The one I saw him having sex with that night. I hate the feeling of jealousy that envelops me instantly. I really shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t. I turned him down last night. Rightfully so. I take a deep breath and focus on the professor, but spend the majority of the class distracted. The girl he’s with keeps putting her hand on his arm, on his shoulder, on his thick, unruly hair. I wonder how long they’ve been hooking up. She’s obviously not his girlfriend. I wonder if she wants to be, then snort softly at my own question. Of course she wants to be. They all want to be. It was like that when we were young as well. There were always girls, usually cheerleaders, trying to get with him. With the three Cruz brothers, if I’m being honest. It drove Misty crazy that one summer that she was dating Mitch.

  Before I know it, the class is over, and people start heading outside. Because I’m sitting right by the back door, I twist my body so that my feet aren’t in the way of anyone walking by as I put away my things in my large crossbody and look for my phone again. As I’m zipping it closed, I look up to see Jagger walking by with the girl. She’s pretty up close, a brunette with fair skin and freckles over her nose and cheeks. She doesn’t look in my direction, but she’s smiling wide and flirtatious as she turns and looks at Jagger who’s right behind her. He doesn’t look at me either, just keeps his attention on her as she speaks to him. My heart tightens as they walk off. I stand up and walk out, staying far behind them as we head in the same direction, but I can’t seem to look away from them. I feel like a stalker, watching them so closely. A legit stalker, because even as they turn toward Lenoir Hall, I turn with them. There’s a group of guys who are obviously athletes, and that’s where they stop and I keep going. I to go to work anyway. I don’t have time to think about my confused feelings.

  “Don’t worry about the bathrooms tonight,” Donna says as she gets up from her desk. “Milton says you did a bad job last time.”

  “Milton said that?” My mouth falls open. “I did a great job!”

  “That’s not what he said.” Donna laughs. “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I need you to open the door for someone. I’m celebrating my thirty-eighth anniversary tonight, so your father told me to leave early.” She looks at her watch. “I’m already late.”

  “What door do I open?�
� I frown.

  “The front door, silly. It’ll be locked.”

  “Oh.” I look at the front door, then at the clock over the door. “But it’s five-oh-five. We’re closed. Dad’s taking a patient at this time?”

  “He is.”

  “I thought he didn’t do that anymore? Mom is going to be so mad.”

  “He made an exception.” Donna shoots me a look. “Now, can I trust you’ll do a better job with the door than you did with the toilets?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She laughs as she walks away and calls out, “Turn that frown upside down.”

  “Sure,” I mutter and go back to sweeping.

  Dad shares the practice with two other doctors. The three of them are the most coveted in orthopedics in the United States. People fly here from all over the country and all over the world to get second opinions and surgeries. Mondays, two out of three are usually out of the office. Today, Dad is the one who happens to be here, which is why he designated me to clean every Monday as penance. I set the broom aside and walk over to his office, knocking on the slightly open door to see if he needs anything and reprimand him for telling someone to come in after hours after he promised he wouldn’t go home late anymore.

  “Come in.”

  I open the door a little wider. “Donna said someone is coming in soon.”

  “That is correct.” He looks up from the papers in front of him. “Is that a problem?”

  “I thought you weren’t going to stay at work late anymore.”

  “I assure you I ran this by your mother.” He raises an amused eyebrow. “Am I in trouble with you?”

  “No.” I purse my lips to contain a smile. “Do you need anything?”

  “Not at the moment. Do you want to help me with rehab?”

  “Sure.” I shrug a shoulder. “Anything is better than cleaning.”

  Dad chuckles. “Come back and get me when he arrives. Set him up in room five.”

  “Got it.”