by M. E. Carter
Sitting up, I crisscross my legs and straighten my back to stretch it out a bit. “For what?”
Heath sighs and rubs the top of his nose, fidgeting while he gathers his thoughts. I let him because whatever he’s apologizing for seems to be bothering him. It has me on high alert that maybe there’s something I don’t know about.
“I never win at poker.”
Okay, now, I’m really confused. What does a card game have to do with his apology? “You lost me.”
“I know. I’m trying to get to my point so you can understand, but I’m already doing a shit job. Let me try again.” He takes a deep breath and looks me right in the eye. “I’m not good at hiding my emotions. I never have been. My mother has always said I should stay far away from Vegas because my biggest tell is my expressions.”
“Ah. I understand the poker reference now.”
He chuckles before continuing. “As you know from our conversation yesterday, a lot of the pressure I feel is from my family and wanting to help them.”
“It’s an admirable desire.”
“It is. But it never goes away. I’m constantly thinking about it and worrying about them. So, I made a commitment to myself years ago that nothing is going to get in my way of getting that pro contract. Nothing.”
“Right. I knew that. But what does this have to do with me?”
He grimaces, and I know he’s getting to the heart of the matter and it makes him uncomfortable. “I was warned a long time ago about the groupie element when it comes to this business. It’s always there. High school had it, too. But it’s different now. The stakes are higher, and there are women out there who will try to hook-up with a star player, specifically so they can get knocked up and trick him into supporting her for the next eighteen years.”
Suddenly, I understand how this relates to me, and I don’t like it. It feels like a slap to the face. Not that I didn’t already know Heath dismissed me like someone who wasn’t worth his time, but to know he thought I was a cleat chaser doesn’t feel good at all.
“You thought I was going to take advantage of our mutual friends to try and trap you.”
He shifts uncomfortably which I’m glad about. If he’s going to be a judgmental asshole, he should feel bad about it.
“It’s not that I thought you would do that…”
“It’s not?” I deadpan.
“No. It’s more that I didn’t know you well enough to make that determination, so I just sort of… steered clear of you.”
I look down at my clasped hands, unsure what to say. This is what I wanted, right? This is why I don’t get close to anyone and opt to be who I want without regard to anyone else, isn’t it? Because if I don’t get close to them and don’t care about them, conversations like this can’t happen.
But I did get close to Heath. Not bestie close or anything, but he’s seen me more intimately than most people. He’s seen me do the walk of shame. He’s seen me humiliated. Hell, he’s even seen me cry, but I’d never admit to him that those were actual tears that spilled while he drove me home.
And right now, he’s seeing me disappointed, sad, and somewhat regretful for letting him partway in, to begin with.
“I’m sorry, Lauren.” His voice is soft, probably because he knows how much this hurts me. “I finally realized that you and I are more alike than I knew.”
This makes me look back up at him quizzically. How in the world are we alike? Besides the obvious differences—race, gender, height, weight—we also have completely different personalities. It’s a wonder anyone has bought our fake relationship just because we’re such opposites.
“How so?”
“I hold myself back from getting to know people—women, in particular—as a form of self-protection. Keep my eye on the prize and my mind fully engaged on the goal. Don’t let anything get in my way. But you…” He licks his lips, again, probably stalling for time to think. “You don’t let anyone get to know you, the real you, as a self-defense mechanism. Like armor. It keeps you from having to feel rejection, right?”
I look away quickly, not wanting him to look me in the eye anymore. I don’t know how he was able to figure out my vulnerabilities, but he did. It terrifies me that he can use them against me now.
Still, he’s not done.
“I’m sorry I acted the way I did, rolling my eyes and not being friendly. I’ve never hated you. I was trying to protect myself, and in the process, I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” I argue. “Very little hurts me, Heath, and rolling your eyes isn’t even close to being that big of a deal.”
“Maybe not. But I also didn’t make you feel any better about yourself.”
I scoff, trying desperately to put my emotional armor back on before I burst into tears from being overwhelmed. “Don’t give yourself so much credit. It’s not your job to make me feel better about myself. I feel just fine.”
“I said that wrong. I meant I should have been nicer and gotten to know you for who you are, not who I assumed you were. I’m sorry.”
Standing up quickly, I walk over to the dresser, realizing I haven’t taken my meds yet. It’s not ideal to take them in front of Heath, and I hope he doesn’t ask about it, but it’s a chance I have to take. Today is obviously not the day I need to miss a pill. “Stop saying you’re sorry. I forgive you, okay? You used to think I was a whore. You’ve changed your mind, and I’m not as trashy as you thought. The end.” Popping the tiny pill in my mouth, I swallow quickly but continue facing that direction.
I hear him stand up, but his footsteps make almost no sound until he’s right behind me.
“But that’s not the end, Lauren. It’s not just that I’ve changed my mind. It’s that I like you.”
His words make it hard to breathe right. I don’t understand why he’s saying all these things. I like it better when he thought I was tough as nails and only traded quips. I don’t like that he sees past that to what makes me tick. It’s unnerving.
“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”
I bark out a humorless laugh and cross my arms over my chest, still refusing to turn around.
“I’m trying to make this right,” he continues, despite my obvious attempts at ignoring him. “I fell into the habit of being that guy who makes judgments about others without cause, and I don’t want to be him. Especially not with my fake girlfriend.”
Try as I might, I have to bite a smile back at that one.
“I’m asking you to forgive me for being an asshole. And I’m asking to maybe spend some time together, without the buffer of our friends.”
I snort a laugh. “They spend too much time sucking face anyway.”
He chuckles and I kind of want to kick myself for having such a big reaction to an apology. It took some guts for him to lay it all on the line and be so honest about what he perceives as mistakes. If he’s not going to be the guy that makes judgments, I don’t want to be the girl who’s known for her drama. Although at this particular moment, we’re both doing a shit job of being better people.
Turning around, I take a cleansing breath. “You are forgiven for being an asshole. If you’ll forgive me for this melodramatic outburst.”
Heath furrows his brow. “That was melodramatic? I was raised with three sisters. You have to do worse than that before I start to wonder about your stability.”
I smack him playfully on the arm, grateful for his ability to see past my over-the-top display of emotion. He easily blocks my attack, laughing as he does.
“Listen, I brought my books in case you might want to study together?”
It comes out as a question to which I have no hesitation.
“Sure. I was getting ready to start anyway. But I have one condition.”
He narrows his eyes, unsure how this is going to go. “What’s that?”
“Steven Tyler has to join us.”
“I figured that one out already,” he says with a laugh and turns to grab his backpack while I settle back
onto my bed. It appears my second wind has hit, and it has nothing to do with my favorite band and more to do with my favorite football player.
FOURTEEN
Heath
I don’t normally get to take naps. There’s too much activity in the dorm, too much studying to do, too much, well… everything. But today is different. Thanksgiving is just a few days away and almost everyone has cleared out already, even my roommate. It’s peaceful.
Don’t get me wrong, Jaxon is fantastic to live with. I just rest better when part of me is not waiting for him to come through that door, Annika in tow. So, I’m taking advantage of the quiet and lack of action to rest. Or trying to. If only the ice pack under my arm wasn’t so uncomfortable to lay on.
A hard hit in yesterday’s game has me still feeling the pain today. A helmet right under my pit could have been worse, but a deep bruise somewhere in my ribs isn’t something to joke about. A couple of Tylenol and rest will hopefully help it heal quickly.
And, of course, my phone dings with a new text message. I could ignore it, but I know how it goes. One ding means more are coming. It’s like Murphy’s law. So much for my nap.
Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for the pain, then push into a sitting position and grab my phone. Surprisingly, it’s not Jaxon texting me about how his pops is driving him crazy. That was my first assumption, mostly because he deserves for his dad to be up his ass right now.
No, the message is from Lauren.
Lauren: Awesome game yesterday! How’re your ribs? That was a nasty hit.
My fingers flying to respond, I find myself smiling at her reaching out.
Me: I didn’t realize the game was televised. That’s cool.
Was it? I wouldn’t know. I was in the stands.
Nothing like a live game to build my team spirit!
I furrow my brow. She was here? On campus? I guess a lot of people decided to stay for the game, but why is she texting me now? Isn’t she headed home?
Wait… are you texting me while driving? If so, you better stop!
Too much traffic out there!
**cue eye roll because it’s your favorite response from me**
Relax, Dad. I’m in my dorm room.
I thought you were going home for the holidays? What happened?
Short answer – They’re letting us stay through tomorrow for an extra practice.
What’s the long answer?
I’m avoiding spending time with my family as much as possible.
That makes much more sense.
So what are you doing now?
I told you. Sitting in my dorm.
Wanna do something?
Come over so we can go somewhere.
No way. You come here.
My dorm doesn’t smell like boy funk.
I can’t help the laugh that comes out of me. She may be a snarky little shit, but Lauren can be funny sometimes.
Fine. Give me twenty. I need to finish icing this bruise.
Perfect. I need to do my hair anyway.
I find myself smiling again… this time even bigger. Looks like my nap can wait. I’ve got a real date with my fake girlfriend. Now I just have to come up with something good to do.
• • •
Thirty minutes later, the door swings open and an angry scowl greets me.
“You’re late.” The words are barely out of Lauren’s mouth when she turns away from me, leaving the door open so I can follow her.
I’m not surprised she’s calling me out. What I am surprised by is her outfit. Skinny jeans, a tight white sweater, hair down around her shoulders, and the one item I have a hard time resisting…
“You’re wearing heels.”
Tossing her newly curled blonde hair over her shoulder, she smirks. “I wear heels a lot when I’m not in work-out clothes. Short girl problems.”
“And yet, you’re still so tiny I could put you in my pocket.” I get close to her and purposely look down on her to accentuate exactly how close to the ground she is.
Lauren purses her lips and puts her hands on her hips. “You’re not original, you know. That joke is old and tired.”
“Who says I’m joking? I kind of like the idea of carrying you around.”
“Since when have you been a caveman?” She pushes me back through the door, which let’s face it, is me just humoring her. We both know if I stood still, we wouldn’t be going anywhere. As we hit the hallway, she locks the door behind her.
“I just think you’re kind of cute.”
She gives me a flirty grin, one that I can see is full of disbelief. “Oh yeah? Since when have you wanted in my pants?”
So, she wants to go there? Two can play at that game.
I shrug, pretending to be nonchalant. “Since always.”
In true Lauren fashion, she cocks her eyebrow at me playfully but deflects. My apology the other day was necessary and genuine, but I’m a strong believer that actions speak louder than words. Based on her reaction, I have a feeling she feels the same way, and it’s going to take me being consistent with my friendship before she’ll believe me. Going out tonight will hopefully be a good start.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asks as we pass by what’s-his-name at the front desk. Today’s magazine of choice? GQ. I can’t help but wonder if he pays for all these magazines or if he steals them out of the trash by the mailroom.
Reaching my arm out from behind her, I push the door open. “I hadn’t really thought about it. Wanted to see if you had anything in mind first.”
“Geez, you don’t date much do you?”
“What? I didn’t want to be presumptuous. I assumed you wanted to go dancing but you have more experience than me with the clubs around here. Anywhere I’d choose would probably be only sub-par.”
We reach my truck, which is illegally parked in the fire zone. I’ve got my hazards on, and there’re so few people on campus, I’m not worried anyway.
As I open the door for her, Lauren climbs in. It hits me that the last time she was in my truck, she was upset and freezing while doing the walk of shame. And I wasn’t exactly a gentleman by pulling over to the side of the road, yelling “Hop in” and barely speaking to her on the ride home. No wonder she’s only tentatively accepting my apology. I can only hope she isn’t having the same memory flashback I am.
Once I make my way around the front, climb in, and get myself situated, I turn to look at her. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Where are we going?”
She crinkles her nose a bit, so I know she has no idea how I’m going to react to her suggestion. “Would it be weird to do something cliché like dinner and a movie? But not in that order?”
Chuckling, I crank the engine now that I have a general idea of where we’re headed. “A little weird coming from you, but totally doable. Not feeling up to the crowds tonight?”
“No, it’s not that. I tend to stay pretty energetic most of the time. Stop laughing…” I can’t help the chuckle since she’s already called me out. She smacks me lightly. “I said no laughing.”
Raising one hand defensively I mutter, “Sorry.”
“I think my energy is directly related with how much I have to do, for whatever reason. And with my normal routine slowing down for the upcoming holiday, I feel like my body is, too.”
“I get that. Like if you stop moving, you’re suddenly tired.”
“Exactly. It took everything in me to roll off my bed and get ready to leave.”
Glancing over at her, I appreciate the effort she put in for me. “It was worth it. You look really pretty.”
I catch a glimpse of the blush that graces her cheeks before I turn my eyes back to the road. I’ve never seen that happen to her before. Like she’s not used to the compliments and is flattered in a way she’s not quite comfortable with. It’s a more innocent side to Lauren that she’s never let me see before.
Clearing my throat, I bring us back into the moment. “So, dinner and a movie,
not in that order?”
“Right.”
“That makes it easy. What movie do you want to see? I don’t think any of the Thanksgiving blockbusters are coming out for a couple of days.”
She huffs. “They’re not. I already looked. But there is a new Dwayne Johnson action movie I haven’t seen yet.”
It’s been so long since I’ve paid attention to pop culture, it takes me a minute to recall the one she’s talking about. “The one with Jack Black? They’re like in a video game or something?”
She nods vigorously. She may not have as much energy as normal, but there’s still no stopping Lauren from getting excited over the things she likes. “That’s the one.”
“Wait,” I furrow my brow. “Didn’t that come out a couple of years ago?”
“The last one in the series did. I guess they keep doing well enough in the box office, they keep making more.”
“Good enough for me.”
Heading my truck in the direction of the movie theater, I press the gas pedal. We’ve got a movie to enjoy and I don’t want to waste a minute sitting in this old truck.
• • •
“Mmmmmm.” The moan that comes out of Lauren’s mouth has me watching her intently and shifting in my seat as my jeans tighten. Who knew watching someone eat a greasy burger could be so erotic? I sure as hell never got hard eating at Cactus Burger with Jaxon. But with Lauren—well, this is something different altogether.
Lauren’s eyes roll in the back of her head and her tongue snakes out to lick the grease off the side of her lips.
My thoughts and hormones are a muddled mess from the snapshots in my brain of her splayed out on my bed, her tongue and mouth caressing my dick the same way they’re currently caressing that burger. My mouth goes dry, and I’m unable to put coherent thoughts together.
“This is the best burger I’ve ever had.” Finally, she opens her eyes. As she looks at me, confusion crosses her face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Huh?” That’s as good as it’s going to get from me right now.
She grabs a napkin and begins wiping her mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”
I groan as the image of what I’d love to see on her face assaults me. I try to look away but can’t, and as if she can read my thoughts, suddenly a shit-eating grin crosses her face.
