The Knights were the reigning state champs and the pride and joy of St. Joseph High. As sports editor of the school newspaper, I covered the team’s games and practices—a duty I thoroughly enjoyed since football was my favorite sport.
With the sky spitting rain, I trained my camera lens on Reyes as he dropped back into the pocket, pump-faked and threw the ball. His receiver made the catch and sprinted downfield, evading two tacklers before high-stepping into the end zone.
Half the team cheered while the other half groaned.
Coach Ramos blew his whistle, giving the players a water break.
I lowered my camera, letting it dangle from a strap around my neck as Reyes came jogging toward me, all broad shoulders and long legs.
The closer he got, the faster my heart beat.
“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, stopping right in front of me. He was a solid foot taller and probably still growing. “Where’s your umbrella?”
I shrugged. “It’s only drizzling.”
He unsnapped his chinstrap and pulled off his helmet, forking his fingers through his wet black hair.
I stared, absently aware of the rainwater seeping through my own hair and tickling my scalp. “Looking good out there,” I told him. “Nice pump fake.”
He flashed a cocky grin. “It was, wasn’t it?”
I playfully punched him in the chest, making him laugh.
He could be cocky at times, but he’d more than earned the right. In addition to his academic achievements, he’d also been named All-American and All-State, was the USA Today Player of the Year, and was ranked one of the top fifty high school football players in the country. He was already being scouted by big universities and we didn’t even graduate for another year.
He had an amazingly bright future ahead of him, and I couldn’t be prouder.
When he reached out and wiped rain off my cheek, I tried not to shiver.
“You’re not tutoring today?” he asked.
“Nope. The advisor got sick and went home early, so all tutoring sessions were canceled.”
“Too bad,” Reyes said while smiling. “But that means you can ride home with me.”
“Yup.” I loved riding home with him, and not just because he had a nice truck. He was my best-friend-turned-boyfriend, and every moment we spent together fed my heart and soul.
Raindrops clung to his long black lashes as he glanced down, digging the toe of his cleat into the muddy turf. “You still going to the party with me on Saturday?”
I licked my lips. “Actually, I was hoping we could just hang out at my house. Mom won’t be home, so I thought we could order pizza and watch a movie or something.”
“Just us?”
“Yeah. I mean . . . if that’s okay?”
He gave me that crooked grin that always melted my insides into gooey marshmallow fluff. “Spending time with you rather than a bunch of drunk jocks? That’s a no-brainer.”
I beamed up at him. He didn’t know it yet, but I planned to seduce him on Saturday night. I was going to light some candles, put on soft music and lose my virginity to the only boy I’d ever loved.
I was excited, nervous and scared. Scared totally shitless.
But I’d never been more sure of anything in my seventeen years of life.
“Malone!” Coach Ramos barked from across the field. “We haven’t got all day!”
“Be right there, Coach!” Reyes yelled back over his shoulder. “I’m giving Em a quote for the paper!”
“Do that after practice!”
As Reyes turned back to me, I grinned. “You’d better go, hotshot.”
“Yeah.” But he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on my mouth.
“What?” I asked self-consciously. “Is my lip gloss smudged? Do I have food in my teeth?”
“No. And no.” There was a glint of a smile on his face. “Can I kiss you?”
My heart somersaulted. “Now? Like, right in front of the whole team? I don’t—”
He was already leaning down and pressing his mouth against mine, sending heat through my body and weakening my knees until—
A sudden ping from my phone snaps me out of my reverie.
Sucking in a shaky breath, I reach across the nightstand and pick up the glowing mobile.
There’s a text from my mother. She sent Reyes’s phone number.
I stare at the screen, my heart drumming louder than a fifty-piece marching band.
Way too many seconds tick by before I delete the text and toss the phone on the nightstand.
Nice try, Mom.
I snap my yearbook closed, shove off the bed and cross the room to the dresser. I yank open the bottom drawer and bury the yearbook under a pile of winter sweaters. Out of sight, out of mind.
As if.
Trying to ignore the heavy weight pressing down on my chest, I strip my clothes off and head to the bathroom to take a shower.
Chapter Four
EMERSON
I dream about him that night, of course.
When I wake up the next morning, he’s still front and center in my mind.
As I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, I let my thoughts wander back to a halcyon time when we were best friends. We played outside together, climbed trees and rode horses on his ranch. We went treasure hunting in the woods, searching for ancient Pueblo Indian artifacts until the turquoise sky darkened to red clay and it was time to head home.
His mom taught me how to make tortillas, rapidly patting dough between her hands while Reyes made goofy faces at me behind her back.
Hanging out at his house gave me an escape from the turmoil of my home life. His parents were deeply in love and not afraid to show it. They were tender and affectionate, always holding hands and leaning into each other. They laughed together, flirted like teenagers and kissed in front of us.
They didn’t yell and storm out of rooms and slam doors. They didn’t glare at each other across the dinner table and snap at me when I asked them to stop fighting. They didn’t make me feel invisible. They didn’t make me wish I’d never been born.
Their home was my sanctuary, and Reyes was the center of my universe. I always thought we would end up together.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
I’ve worked very hard over the past eight years to purge him from my heart and put the past behind me. After college I could have moved back home and worked for a local newspaper like my mother wanted. But I was determined to put down roots someplace entirely new. Someplace where I could start over with a clean slate.
I’ve carved out a nice life for myself here. I have a rewarding career, a cool apartment and good friends. Sure, my love life could use some serious help. But everything else is pretty close to ideal.
Reyes’s arrival feels like an invasion. Though it’s only been a day, he’s already upsetting the balance of my life, consuming my thoughts and reminding me of all that I had and lost.
“Good morning.”
I turn my head toward the doorway to see my roommate leaning against the doorjamb.
“Hey.” I push myself to a sitting position. “You made it back.”
“Yup. You’re still stuck with me.”
I chuckle as Zoe takes a flying leap onto the foot of my bed. She’s a gorgeous biracial woman with smoky gray eyes and curly black hair that tumbles down to her shoulders. Slender but curvy, she’s wearing an old Princeton T-shirt over pink boy shorts. I have the same shirt lying around somewhere.
We met in college and were totally inseparable. When we graduated, we both managed to land jobs in Piedmont Bay—her at a multi-technology firm and me at the Gazette.
“You were out cold when I got home last night, so I didn’t want to wake you,” she says.
I stretch and yawn. “How was your trip?”
“Fabulous. Everything went off without a hitch for once. But I don’t wanna talk about work. I wanna talk about you.”
I’m immediately wary. “What about me?”
There’s
a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I heard the big news about Reyes Malone coming to town. You must be positively ecstatic.”
“Well, yeah,” I mumble. “I’m a sportswriter and he’s one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL. Of course I’m thrilled that I’ll get to cover him.”
“Uh-huh,” Zoe leers with a dirty grin. “I bet you are thrilled about covering him.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Zoe laughs. “C’mon, Em. I know you’re a consummate professional and all. But don’t tell me you wouldn’t be tempted to drop your panties if you found yourself completely alone in the locker room with a very naked and sweaty Reyes Malone.”
I’m blushing all over. I’ve never told Zoe about my past with Reyes. It was the only secret I hadn’t confided in the darkness of our dorm room when we’d stayed up all night whispering about hot professors and sharing our hopes and dreams.
I drop my eyes to my comforter and mumble, “It’s not like that, Zoe.”
She guffaws. “Seriously, Em? You wouldn’t—”
“No. I wouldn’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
I swallow hard. I knew this day would come eventually. “We’re . . . old friends.”
“Wait, what?” Zoe shoots upright, gaping at me. “You and Reyes Malone are friends?”
I nod.
“Since when?”
“Since—I don’t know. Since forever, I guess. We grew up together in Santa Fe.”
Zoe looks astounded. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”
“It just . . . never came up,” I say lamely.
“Never came up? My God, Em, we used to drool over this guy in college! Remember that? We’d watch his football games on Saturdays and . . .” She trails off, struck by a sudden realization. “Now I know why we always managed to catch Stanford’s games. If you weren’t covering our football team for the school paper, you’d insist on watching Stanford if their game was on. And as soon as you earned some extra money, you got the DirecTV college football pass to make sure you never missed another Stanford game. I always thought it was because their quarterback was super hot and you were both from New Mexico. But now it all makes sense.”
I’m trying really hard not to squirm. “Like I said, Reyes and I are just friends. Nothing more.”
Liar! Liar! Pants on fire!
Zoe doesn’t look convinced either, studying me through narrowed eyes. “You never dated?”
I bite my bottom lip. “We did, but—”
“Oh, my God!” she shrieks. “You actually dated Reyes Malone?”
“In high school. A long time ago.”
“No fucking way, Em!”
I lean back against the headboard and tuck my knees into my chest.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Zoe says excitedly.
“No. What does it mean?”
“You and Reyes are meant to be together!”
My heart twists painfully. “Zoe—”
“I’m serious, Em! What if fate brought him back into your life?”
I shake my head at her. “Don’t get carried away.”
“I’m not! Look, Liam and I were talking about this last night when he picked me up from the airport.” She’s referring to her boyfriend of six months. “He says Reyes could have signed with any team he wanted. And which team did he choose? Our pathetic Renegades! Why do you think that is?”
“Um . . . he likes a challenge?”
Zoe gives me a look. “Do you really think that’s the only reason he came here?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble, pushing my hair off my face. “I honestly don’t know what to think, Zoe. I’m still trying to process the fact that he’s here in Piedmont Bay.”
Zoe stares at me, her eyes wide with curiosity. “What happened between you two?”
I swallow hard, feeling the weight of the question. “It’s . . . complicated.”
Her eyebrow shoots up into her hairline. “Complicated?”
I groan. “Can we not talk about this right now? It’s too early in the morning.”
Zoe shakes her head at me. “I can’t believe you never told me that you and Reyes were high school sweethearts. I thought we were best friends.”
“We are,” I say, swamped with guilt.
“Then why would you keep something like that from me?”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just . . . I don’t know.” My throat tightens. “I was crazy about him, but it didn’t work out. When I left home for college, I just wanted to put everything behind me. My parents’ ugly divorce. The breakup with Reyes. Everything.”
Zoe studies me for a long moment, then reaches over and squeezes my foot under the comforter. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here for you. Okay?”
I swallow the raw ache in my throat and nod, blinking back tears.
After a few moments, she announces, “I’m starving. What’ve we got to eat around here?”
My smile is wobbly. “I went shopping yesterday and made linguine with clams—”
“Ooh! Yum!” Zoe slides off the bed and skips out the door. She’s the only one I know who can eat pasta for breakfast.
I’m still lying in the same spot when she returns, twirling her fork into a bowl of garlicky linguine.
“So good,” she groans around a steaming mouthful. “God, I love having an Italian roommate.”
“Half Italian,” I say out of habit.
She grins at me. “What’re you doing today?”
“Getting some work done. I’m writing a blog for the website, and I need to send out a bunch of tweets—”
“Seriously?” Zoe interrupts. “It’s supposed to be your day off.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m a sportswriter.”
Zoe snorts and rolls her eyes. She thinks I’m a hopeless workaholic. She’s not entirely wrong.
As an NFL beat writer, I’m always on the clock—nights, weekends, holidays, preseason, offseason. Doesn’t matter what day of the year it is. Between trades, salary cap decisions, coaching changes, free agency, the draft, training camp, player injuries and off-field shenanigans, there’s always a story to cover. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“What about you and Liam?” I ask Zoe. “Got any plans?”
“Nah. He has a boring work thing tonight, so I’m on my own.” She twirls up another forkful of noodles and stuffs her mouth. “Let’s hit the club with the girls.”
I’m not in the mood for a crazy night out. But maybe it’s exactly the sort of distraction I need.
“Okay,” I say, surprising Zoe. “I’m down.”
I’m determined to forget about my troubles and have a good time tonight.
As soon as we arrive at the upscale downtown club, I order a round of drinks for everyone. When they’re delivered, I clink glasses with the girls and gulp down my drink in three swallows.
Eyebrows shoot up around the table.
Pretending not to notice, I signal the waiter for another drink.
“You’re in a party mood,” Daisy shouts over the thumping music.
“Isn’t she?” Teagan grins at me, blue eyes sparkling under the flashing lights. “What’s up with you?”
I blink at them. “Why does something have to be up with me?”
Daisy points to my empty glass. “We just got here and you’ve already ordered your second drink. That’s so unlike you.”
“Seriously, Em,” Teagan agrees. “Every time we go out, you always insist you can’t get shitfaced because you’re a public figure and you have to act responsibly.”
I laugh. “I’m not getting shitfaced. It’s been a stressful week. I’m just trying to unwind and enjoy myself.”
Daisy and Teagan share a look.
Zoe merely sips her drink, watching me over the rim of her glass.
The waiter brings my second margarita and winks at me.
I wink back. Why not? He’s cute.
&n
bsp; As he collects my empty glass and walks away, Teagan grins at me. “You’re even dressed sluttier than usual.”
I choke out a laugh. We’re all wearing tight minidresses with spiky platform heels. “I’m dressed like the rest of you.”
“Exactly,” Teagan says. “You never dress like us.”
“Never. Well, except on her show.” Daisy snickers. “She dresses like a bimbo on Team Ticker. Not by choice, of course. For ratings.”
I scowl and take a swig of my drink, not wanting to be reminded of my ongoing wardrobe battle with the show’s producer.
“Something’s definitely up with you tonight.” Teagan appraises me through narrowed eyes, her blond head tilted to one side. “I’m gonna figure it out before the night’s over.”
Zoe looks like she wants to say something, but I know she won’t betray my confidence. I met Daisy and Teagan through her. We get along well, but I’m not comfortable confiding my innermost secrets to them. Hell, I haven’t even told Zoe the whole story about Reyes, and she’s practically my sister.
Daisy bumps her shoulder against mine. “Can you introduce us to the Renegades’ new quarterback?”
I almost choke on my drink.
“Wh–what?” I croak, staring at her.
“Reyes Malone,” she says with a dreamy smile. “We’re dying to meet him.”
“God, yes,” Teagan gushes. “He’s so fucking sexy!”
I exchange a look with Zoe.
She just shakes her head at me.
“We watched the press conference on YouTube,” Daisy says excitedly. “You actually sparred with him, and you’ll get to interview him after his games.”
“In the locker room. When he’s all hot and sweaty and naked.” Teagan grins enviously at me. “Lucky bitch.”
“Seriously.” Daisy bumps my shoulder again, wiggling her dark eyebrows. “So what do you say? Can you hook us up with an introduction sometime?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” I drain my glass and slam it down on the table, then jump out of my seat. “Enough chit-chat. Let’s dance!”
Get Over You (Dare Me Book 1) Page 3
