I snort. “Yeah, that’s me. Playboy of the year.” Except it wasn’t. Not anymore at least. Not since she wormed her way inside my head and screwed up this new life I’d found for myself.
“You don’t sound sure.”
“Maybe I’m not what every rumor claims I am,” I shrug. “It’s not my problem if people want to take me at face value. That’s on them.”
Grace opens her mouth momentarily, then closes it before opening it back up again. “That’s a sad way to live.”
“What do you care?” I snap, suddenly irritated. “You have dancer-boy all tied up in knots. Who cares what people think of me?”
“Jesse,” Grace winces, “about that, there’s something you should know.” She straightens her shoulders back and juts her chin out. “But we’re friends, right? No secrets?”
“If you really want to be my friend, sure,” I grumble. There’s no way to beat the wanting her out of my system, but being a jerk to her I can fix. “We can be besties.”
That earns me an eye roll. “Jesse and I aren’t dating.”
I stare at her, too dumbstruck to string a sentence together.
Grace winces again. “Don’t be mad, okay? I was trying to prove to Lila I was okay around you, and it seemed really easy to just say that I have a boyfriend. Especially when Ian asked me out and I didn’t want to be mean.”
“Jesse isn’t interested in you?” I finally manage to ask.
Grace lets out a short laugh. “More like interested in you. But please don’t tell them, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
So she didn’t fake a boyfriend for me, then. She faked a boyfriend to get everyone else off her case. Just effing great. “So you lied to everyone?”
“Technically.”
“And I tried to make an ass out of him for no reason?” I continue.
Grace shrugs her small shoulders.
“You’re not even sorry that I made an ass out of him?” I frown. “What kind of person does that?”
“The kind of person trying to prove she got over you.”
“Me?” I laugh bitterly. “I’m not the one who did the dumping. Quite the contrary. That would be all you, sweetheart.”
“Why are we fighting about this? We always fight about this,” Grace sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. “For once, can’t we not fight about it? You said it was a long time ago.”
Clearly, I lied. Because the “long time ago” was currently meeting up with the “right fucking now” time span. “You’re right,” I breathe out. “It was a long time ago, obviously it meant nothing to you so we’ll leave it be.”
“Alex, that’s not what I meant.”
“You want to be my friend? Just pretend we were never together, okay? Do you think you can do that?”
A million thoughts seem to be racing behind her eyes, and I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking. If she’s having just as hard of a time wrapping her head around it as I am. So I decide to push, because that’s what people in shitty situations do to other people.
“Pretend that we’ve never held hands, never kissed, never danced together or spent all night talking about our feelings. Do you think that that’s something you can do when people start coming up? When my rumored reputation starts to show up? Can you do that, Grace?”
It’s like I’ve pushed too far, something I’ve been known to do. Grace’s face shuts down, becoming void of the millions of thoughts that were just there a moment ago. “Sure,” she answers meekly. “Like it never happened.”
“Great.” I throw open the door and step out into the seemingly too quiet locker room. “Then we’re friends. Congratulations.”
It doesn’t take very long before Grace dashes out of the locker room, eyes on the floor as she makes her escape to the safety of anywhere that’s clearly not in here.
I take a few steps back to my locker, tightening my hands on the pads that protect my chest and shoulders as much as they can. And then I let the gear clatter to the floor and stare at it like it’s somehow the reason for all of my problems and the answer to everything all at once.
“Did it go well?” Ian asks, peeking over the short locker in front of me. “I mean, unless you messed it up.”
“He probably messed it up,” Killian adds, coming to stand next to me. “She ran out of her awful fast.”
“We’re fine,” I frown, ignoring them. “We’re friends, even.”
“I’m not entirely sure I believe you,” Ian presses his lips together. “Grace definitely didn’t seem to act like you two are buddies now.”
“Don’t believe me? Go track her down and ask her,” I huff. “She’ll tell you exactly what I just did: we’re friends.”
“Then why the hell are you so pissed off?” Ian barks. “Shouldn’t you be over the moon?”
“Ah, I get it,” Killian answers before I have the chance to think of a witty comeback. “It’s because you’re only friends, right? You want the girl, girl doesn’t want you. Obviously this is upsetting news and ergo, we get a pissed off quarterback.”
“I am not pissed off,” I snap. But yeah, I’m a little pissed off. The girly, mushy, part of me thought she might actually tell me she wanted me back. Some stupid, far out-of-touch with reality part of me, gave in a little to that hope and then quickly retreated when it obviously wasn’t going to be returned.
“Could have fooled me,” Ian deadpans. “What’s the deal? If you like her, go tell her.”
“She doesn’t like me. So why would I tell her anything?” I point out. “That’s opening a can of worms better left shut.”
“There’s got to be more to it than that,” Killian says. “You seemed...almost excited to see her in here, coming to talk to you.”
“Yeah,” I laugh humorously, “when I thought she was coming in here to tell me she wants me.”
“Maybe you need to show her you want her?” Ian suggests. “You haven’t exactly done much of that. You’ve avoided and snapped at her.”
Kind of like what I did in the storage closet. But whatever, they don’t know anything about my past relationship.
“And then you just did whatever you did in there and she left all sad,” Ian finishes.
“Grace was not sad,” I say in confusion.
“Uh, have you ever seen a sad girl’s face?” Ian gawfs. “She was literally the epitome of everything a sad girl looks like. Not to the crying degree or anything, but definitely upset.”
“Ian’s right,” Killian agrees. “Grace was definitely upset when she left. What did you say to her?”
I straighten my shoulders, ready for the attack as I say, “I told her we could be friends if she pretended the past never happened.”
“You are such a fucking moron,” Killian scowls. “Why would you ever tell a girl that? Let alone a girl you actually like?”
“Because she doesn’t want me?” I wave my arms in the air to make a point. “How many times do I have to say that before you two knuckleheads get it through your skull? She flat out told me that she didn’t like me.”
“She lied,” Killian says calmly. “Obviously she lied if she was that upset about it.”
“And you told her to basically pretend to not know you after agreeing to be her friend, that’s dipshit behavior, dude,” Ian tacks on.
They weren’t saying anything I didn’t already know. I’m an asshole, it wasn’t like I was going to become a saint overnight.
Chapter Thirteen
Alex
I rap my knuckles on the entryway to the study room that Grace is currently occupying. It’s basically a glass bubble in the middle of the second floor of the library. She was almost impossible to miss as soon as I entered the large room.
“Hey,” I cough. “Care to have a study buddy?”
Grace pops a hot pink earbud out of her ear and looks at me warily. “Why?”
“I need to study. If I get bored then I can talk to you, right?” I furrow my brow. “Isn’t that what friends do?”
Grace purses her lips before saying, “Right. Friends do talk during study hours.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I sigh and enter fully into the room, dropping my bag off on the floor across from her. “I’m sorry, okay? I was being an asshole the other day.” Four days ago, to be exact.
She shrugs one shoulder. “It was a fair thing to say.”
It wasn’t.
She knows it and I know it.
“No,” I shake my head. “It was a shitty, stupid thing to say.” I pause. “And I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” She looks almost amused now.
“Yeah.”
“For talking to me like an asshole?” she pushes.
I roll my eyes. “I am an asshole, remember? But yeah, for talking to you like that. Friends don’t deserve it.”
“What made you want to apologize?”
Guilt.
Ian and Killian refusing to leave me alone until I manned up and fixed it and said something right for a change.
“I just wanted to.”
“Well, it was really nice of you,” Grace says and looks back down at her open textbook. “I guess you can be my study buddy if you want.”
Taking the invitation, I immediately stop and sit down opposite of her. There’s a little space left open on the desk for me to use to look over my notes for class. I pull out all of my materials, hoping to prove that I came here out of good faith and not ill will.
“What are you studying?” Grace asks after a silent twenty minutes goes by. She’s half out of her chair, leaning over the table to look at my notebook I’ve been highlighting.
“Federal Law,” I sigh.
“Isn’t that a Gen Ed requirement?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “I kept putting it off so I wouldn’t be bogged down with all of my core classes at once.” I add in a grumbling, sarcastic voice, “Seemed like a great idea at the time.”
“You always sucked at Civics class,” Grace smirks. “Are you keeping your head afloat, though?”
“Enough my GPA isn’t going to go down the gutter,” I shrug. She’s right, my Civics classes always gave me trouble for some reason. It’s not like it’s similar to History, because I rock my History courses, but anything having to do with law just gives me a blank mind.
“Are you having trouble? Need some study tips?”
I stare at her. “You want to help me?”
“I’ve helped you before,” she enunciates. “Unless saying that is strictly off the friend agenda. I mean, you told me not to bring it up.”
So now she’s throwing my words back in my face. “That wasn’t what I was talking about,” I say calmly.
Grace quirks an eyebrow. “No?”
“I meant bringing up…” I trail off, not finding the right words to use.
“Being your girlfriend?” she answers flatly. “Yeah, I figured as much.”
“It’s for the best.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Did you happen to notice that the minute I walked in here and sat down, everyone has been staring at us on the other side of the glass?”
Grace sits up and looks around, no doubt finding out that what I’m saying is true. “But we’ve been reading.”
“And you’re sitting in here with the school’s quarterback.”
“Okay, so what? You’re sitting in here with a school’s dancer.”
I laugh, I can’t help myself. “True,” I say kindly. “But this isn’t a dance-dominant school. It’s football-dominant. So they’re not going to care or have any idea of who you are. But they all know me.”
“Are you really using this to boost your ego?”
“What?” I frown. “I’m not using the people who are willingly staring at me to boost my ego. I’m just stating facts.”
“That dance isn’t important?”
“You’re putting words into my mouth. I said this wasn’t a dance-dominant school. You’re also new here, so how is anybody going to know who you are to stare at you?”
Grace ponders that for a moment. “Okay, I get your point. They’re staring at you, and me by default, because we’re in a study room together.” She narrows her eyes at someone outside of the room. “Don’t they know how rude it is to stare?”
“You get used to it.”
“That’s terrible,” Grace says. “No one should have to be stared at. Don’t you want your privacy?”
“Well, yeah. But it’s not like I can make the majority of campus leave me alone.”
“Do you want to study somewhere else? There’s the rooms in the corner that are walled in so people couldn’t look.”
It’s cute that she’s offering. But if I have to be honest, I’m so used to the staring it doesn’t faze me anymore. It’s not like I think I’m hot shit, I mean I do, but not in the way that some of these people breathe football like religion. “It’s okay. I’m okay here, if you’re okay here.”
“Thanks, but I can’t concentrate now that I know people are looking at me,” Grace blushes, putting her head close to her textbook and using her hair to shield her face.
“Do you want to go to the other study room?”
“I’m actually just thinking of going home,” she sighs. “But you can stay.”
“No, I’ll walk you home.” Before she can even refute my offer, I shove all of my things back into my bag that I sat down not even half an hour ago. “You gonna put your stuff up or not? Cause I look like a dumbass with his shit in his backpack if you aren’t going to let me walk you home.”
“Do friends walk each other home?” Grace smirks.
“This friend does.”
“Can’t really argue with that, can I?” she muses while packing her things away. It doesn’t take long for her to step towards the door, which I open for her like a gentleman, and usher her towards the staircase that goes to all three floors of the library.
“So how’s your grandfather doing?” I ask.
Grace startles while hopping down steps. “What? He’s fine, why?”
“Have you been by to see him?”
“I’ve been busy.”
She’s so full of shit. After our little fiasco the other day, I stopped by to see her grandparents. To say it was a shock for them would be an understatement. They definitely weren’t expecting me.
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I lie. Her grandfather and I had a little talk while I was there, where I promised to help Grace if she needed anything. Her Gramps had his suspicions that she kept their contact to strictly over the phone because she was scared of what might happen if she came home. Not that I blame her, it killed me a little inside to see the old man so frail and pale in his dark green recliner. He didn’t look sick, but he didn’t look good either.
“Anyways, what about you? Go back to the farm often?” she asks.
“No, not really.”
“Why?”
I hesitate. Should I tell her? I mean, we’re friends now and friends tell each other stuff, don’t they? “I had a bad time a bit ago,” I clear my throat. “Went after Killian for some shit that didn’t even have anything to do with him. So this year I’m trying to be a better person about it.”
“You went after Killian?” Grace raises her eyebrows as we exit the library. “Why? What did he do?”
“He didn’t do anything,” I sigh. “I got it in my head that he let me down by missing a pass I threw him last year. It cost us the game. And I know it wasn’t on purpose, I know not everyone is perfect and shit happens. But it hit me hard.”
“Because you lost one game?”
I glance sideways at her. “Because I want out of here. I don’t want to be the farmer. I don’t want to be some has-been football player. I want to be a professional athlete. I want to do what I love. And about the time that I finally told my parents I didn’t want to farm, Killian dropped the ball. I was pissed at myself for letting my family down and letting my dream down.”
It’s the m
ost I’ve ever said about it. But Grace always had that way about her that made it easy to talk. Made it easy to confide things in her. She was a rock like that. One I sometimes felt I didn’t deserve.
“Killian and I got in a fight about it, but we patched up. I try and remember that he’s human. That I’m human. Neither of us is going to go pro by pushing against one another.”
“That’s a really nice way of looking at it,” Grace says softly. “You both would do amazing at the professional level. You have what it takes. The determination, the strength,” she pauses to tease, “the arrogance.”
I laugh. “I am not arrogant.”
“Only an asshole?”
I shrug one shoulder. “I’m not the best person all of the time.”
“You seem to do pretty okay by me.”
“You think I’m a good person? And that I could go pro?” I gape.
Grace rolls her eyes. “Yes, doofus, I think you’re a good person. And I know you can go pro, Alex. You’re really, really good at what you do. And you love to play, remember? No matter the cost.”
I snag her arm and pull her to a stop. That last sentence of hers, no matter the cost, cut a little deeper than I thought it would. “You were still there, you know. I had this dream that we were going to be that super rich, super famous athletic couple everyone would be jealous of.”
Grace gives me a sad smile. “We keep living in the past.”
“I guess we are. Damn.” I run my hand over my face. “I'm not trying to and that's part of the reason I said what I did the other day.”
“Seems to be a cycle we’re in.”
“Apparently. I'm still sorry about that, though.”
Grace pauses before adding softly, “Our friendship is difficult.”
She has no idea how difficult it is. There are too many levels of difficult to even count with her right now. The top one being hiding my feelings for my new and old friend.
“Are we ever going to be normal?”
“Probably not,” I say and nudge her forward so we’re walking again. “It’s our own version of normal, though, I suppose. Guess that has to mean something, right?”
The Wrong Girl_Hanson University_Book Two Page 9
