Troy has been good about watching Dante, so it’s made it a lot easier for me to not worry about finding a sitter. He seems committed to Dante at this point, which makes things easy. Despite Parker’s initial assessment, this is anything but a saga or a shitshow.
This could work.
Walking toward the porch, I see two lit pumpkins, the larger of the two has an intricately carved goal post with Troy’s jersey number inside, the other is no doubt my son’s, The Legit Life logo shining proudly due to the tea lights. The yard has been freshly mowed, the leaves bagged and brought to the curb. It’s the first real house I’ve been able to give Dante, and I proudly stand admiring it from the yard. With Troy’s help, we’ve had a little money for some extras. With the porch columns wrapped in colorful Halloween tinsel, and the yard lit up with a ghost and a few pumpkins Troy picked up from the home store, it feels more real to me. I’d been so worried when I took on the lease I could barely afford and now find myself thankful for Troy’s weekly checks.
Turning the key, I stop halfway inside, knocked breathless by the sight of a sleeping Troy alone and shirtless on the couch in dark washed jeans and bare feet. His laptop is open on his ripped stomach, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looks entirely different to me, vulnerable, yet sexy as hell. I stop the screen door from slapping shut behind me and simply admire him from where I stand. The man is incredible to look at. Even when completely relaxed, he’s perfection—broad jaw, rippling chest and abs, narrow waist, and a well-defined V that protrudes at his hips and disappears into his jeans. The sight of him so at ease on my couch is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. He truly is the perfect picture of male beauty, every woman’s fantasy. I hate that I’m still so attracted to him. Even after all the years of resenting him, he has the same effect on me as he did the night we met. But the sight of him this way, in Dad mode, makes me curious, and though I don’t ask much about him, I’m becoming more interested in what makes him tick.
Though it’s wrong, I can’t help myself as I approach him and take the pad of my finger moving it along the mousepad to see what he’s working on. I chalk it up to a teacher’s curiosity. One day I hope to teach at a university level. Professor Arden has a nice ring to it, and the money would be a substantial change from what I’m earning now. The screen lights up his face, and I cringe when I see his nose wrinkle at the intrusive light. When I’m sure he’s still asleep, I glance up to see three open Google search windows.
The best foods to feed lactose intolerant kids.
How to make the perfect frittata.
I repeatedly blink at the words. I’d mentioned just once in passing conversation how much I loved frittatas. But it’s the last search that has me reeling.
Ten ways to prove yourself to your spouse.
Does he really care so much about my opinion of him?
I get no time to deal with my discovery when I sense him shift beneath me and take a step back to clear my throat, fully waking him. When his eyes open and he gives me a sleepy smile beneath his Clark Kent glasses, I damn near hit my knees. There’s far too much Troy in my living room.
“Hey, how was your date?”
“Good,” I squeak out as he closes his laptop and moves to sit. “Thank you for watching him.”
“Don’t thank me,” he says in a sleep-filled voice, “it’s my job.”
“Right. Thanks all the same.”
“No problem.” He reaches for his shirt, and I fight the urge to get one last eyeful as he pulls it down over his abs. “He wasn’t up too late. I think he passed out around nine.”
“Oh? Good.” Troy lifts a worn ball cap from the couch, and I pray he doesn’t put in on backward, it’s my weakness, but he does.
Bastard.
The minute he stands, crowding my space, I feel my lady bits spike to life.
“T-the pumpkins look great.”
“Yeah,” he glances in the direction of Dante’s room, the hint of a smile on his full lips, “he did a good job.”
“I’m quite sure he didn’t do it alone.”
“Mostly, he did. Hey, I wanted to ask you something.” He takes a step toward me, and I find myself backing away. I don’t miss his expression when he notices my retreat.
“What are you backing up for?”
“Nothing, it’s hot in here. Did you turn the heat on?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s seventy degrees outside.”
“Oh, well, I’m hot.” I begin to fan my face, and his smirk widens as he trails his eyes down my body.
“Are you?”
“Hmm. So, what’s your question?”
“I was hoping,” he takes off his glasses and folds them in his hand, “that maybe I could go trick-or-treating with both of you next week.”
“Sure. Y-yes. That would be okay.”
When he hears my stutter, he smiles so big it reaches his eyes, and I grip my purse at the strap so hard I think I’ll break it.
Get it together, woman. This is how you got pregnant.
Everything about him is huge, his presence, his smile—his fucking blinding white smile.
“Awesome.”
“Awesome?” I ask, confused.
“Yeah, you just said I can go trick-or-treating.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
He draws his brows. “You okay? Are you getting sick?”
“Sick, no?” I open my mouth a mile wide to fake a yawn, but it backfires because I’m no actress. Instead of looking tired, I look like I’m ready for a bite of something from a fork he’s not holding out.
“Tonsils look good,” he chuckles.
“I’m clearly tired!” His eyes widen, a full-on laugh escaping him when he hears the fight or flight in my tone. I used to be a lot better at this. I used to have game, but this man single-handedly ruined it by way of a stretched-out vagina and sand dollar sized nipples.
“Thank you for taking care of the yard.”
“So polite,” he taunts, taking another step forward and playfully tapping my nose. “Dante has impeccable manners, just like his mother.”
He smells heavenly, like man soap and fresh cologne. I gather my wits from the hit of it and remove myself from arm’s reach. “Thanks.”
“He’s so well mannered, half the time I forget I’m talking to a kid.”
“Yeah, he’s got a way about him.”
“So does his mother.”
I ignore the compliment and head for my kitchen. “Maybe I’m not feeling well. I’ll make some tea. Would you like some?”
“No, thanks, I need to get ready for work.”
I look at the clock and see it’s close to midnight. “Sorry, I didn’t expect to be out so late.”
“You know I’m good with it.”
“You didn’t get nearly enough sleep.”
He shrugs. “I got a nap after class before I came over, and I’ll grab another hour at home.”
I shake my head. “I don’t see how you do it.”
“Years of practice,” he says, gathering his bag and pulling an envelope from it before walking over and handing it to me.
“Another check? You’ve already given me one this week.” I open the envelope and look at him over the torn edge. “Tickets?”
“I thought, maybe, for my birthday, you could bring him to one of my games before the season ends.”
I nod. “I’ve been thinking about it. I’m sorry—”
“No apologies. It’s a home game for the first of next month, and I thought maybe if you felt comfortable enough, you could bring him. There’s one in there for a friend.”
“That’s,” I swallow, “that’s very considerate of you.”
He nods and heads toward the door. “See you later?”
“Sure…Troy?”
“Yeah?” He turns back to me, and our eyes connect. “You…you’ve come a long way with him in a short time. I think it’s going just fine.”
He chuckles. “Just fine, huh?”
&nbs
p; I nod. “Yes. He talks about you all the time.”
This earns me another flash of teeth. “Good to know. Night, Clarissa.”
“Night.”
Troy
Kevin squawks from where he sits at the bench between lockers. “Jesus, I’m dying. I can’t fucking reach my cleats. Dude, take these off me.” He stretches his foot toward me, and I swat it away.
The whole locker room is grunting in a collective heap of pain. “I hope it was worth it, you mother fucker!” Someone shouts, earning whimpers of agreement.
Coach Elliot is riding us harder than ever. Someone on the team hooked up with his daughter, and he’s had his nose rubbed in it. He’s not sure which number sacked his own kid, so we’ve all been paying the price. None of us are safe. Coach hasn’t let up, and from the looks of it has plans to punish all of us for the whole of the season. We’ve squeaked by with a few wins, but nothing behind the scenes indicates solidarity for the team. All I know is he better get his shit together because my whole future rides on this season, and we’ve barely managed to hang on with the wins we have.
“I don’t think I can hang tonight,” Kevin drawls out.
“You’re not breaking my heart. I have plans anyway.” I close my locker and pull on my duffle.
“To do what?”
Take my son trick-or-treating.
“None of your damned business.”
“Ah, got something good on the menu?”
“It’s not always about women.”
“Said no man ever.”
“See you later.”
“What’s up with you?” He rises to sit on the bench. “You haven’t been hitting on much lately. You ducked out of the Hero party early. You’ve got something going on?”
“What’s with the twenty questions? I’m all about ball and the hustle this year. What’s wrong with that?”
“There’s a girl.”
“Nope.” There’s a woman, and she’s made it abundantly clear I don’t have a shot with her despite the mutual eye fucking. My chances crushed with every arrival of a BMW. There’s more going on than a co-parent dynamic between us, but I’m not about to press it after what she told me last week in her bedroom.
Her words haunt me daily and give me no choice but to accept it’s time to move on from my infatuation with her.
My shifts are more grueling due to my ball schedule, and life isn’t giving me any fucking breaks financially. All my credit cards are getting close to maxed from buying stuff for Dante—things he needs, things he wants—and I can’t bring myself to regret it. And then there’s the fact that Clarissa is finally cashing the checks I give her to help with rent.
I asked for this responsibility, all of it, but it’s getting hard to keep up with my own needs.
And through all of it, I’m frantically holding onto hope I’ll get drafted. Praying for a contract that will make it so money isn’t an issue for Clarissa or me ever again.
“There you go again, trapped in your own thick head. I give up. Do your thing, man, but don’t tell me it’s not about a girl. When a man’s that far in his thoughts, it’s always a woman.” Kevin, though he plays an idiot, is not really as dumb as he makes himself out to be. Why any man would settle for the dunce role is beyond me, but when it comes to his friends, he’s as loyal as they come, and that’s the main reason I keep him around.
“I’m sorry, bro. I’ll get with you soon, and we’ll do our own thing.”
“Whatever, I’m not a jealous girlfriend. Drop me at the library on your way home, would you?”
“Never going to give up, are you?”
“There’s no story if you give up,” he says as we exit the locker room.
I give Lance a nod on our way out, which he returns. Though we still don’t talk much, even living in the same house, our relationship took a drastic turn once I moved in due to stumbling my way into his secrets. In a way, Lance’s fate is in my hands, but he’s trusted me with it. It’s more of an understanding at this point than a friendship, but for us, it works.
After dropping Kevin off, I make it home to see Theo on the couch watching some reality TV show and texting with a shit-eating grin.
“Sup?”
“Hey, man,” he says, not looking up from his phone.
“Got any plans tonight?”
“Nah, I’m staying in,” he says, checking an incoming message before glancing up at me. “You?”
“Going to help Clarissa take Dante trick-or-treating.”
He couldn’t be more surprised. “Really? That’s cool of you.”
“Can’t be too careful these days.”
Theo nods. “Agreed. Have fun.”
“I will. Have a good one.”
Theo had been a virgin up until a month ago, and he still blames me for the massacre that occurred when he lost his virginity. Though I thought I was doing him a solid by taking him to a party and introducing him to a girl, that shit had backfired, and I can tell he still holds a grudge because I was the one who instigated it. Since we met, he’s had his own wariness when it comes to me, and that stunt did not help my case. Everyone has their assumptions, and the truth is that sometimes I do fit the mold. On several occasions I’ve taken advantage of my status, and honestly, that type of shit never mattered to me, until recently.
I find myself caring more and more each day, and it has everything to do with a little boy, who looks like me, who I want to bear my name, and the perception of his mother. I want to be a dad, his Dad, not neighbor Troy, and the only way to accomplish that is by earning the respect of his mother. I don’t expect Clarissa to catch wind of any rumors on campus, but she’s caught me once or twice bidding farewell to a couple of girls on the way out, even though I’ve taken special care to get them gone before Dante wakes. Her perception is my nemesis, and it’s damn near stripped me of everything important to me.
Maybe I’m asking too much, but more than anything at this point, all I want is for Clarissa to look at me, just once, like I’m worthy.
I step back from the front door, fists on my hips. When it opens, I’m met with wide eyes. I deflate as a loud laugh erupts from Clarissa’s shiny lips. I study her pathetic costume and cross my arms over my chest. “I thought you said we were dressing up?”
She smiles coyly. “I meant like a mask or a hat.” She twists so I can see the fairy wings attached to her back. It’s then I notice the sparkle above her eyes that trails down her face and neck and over the rest of her exposed skin. “I didn’t mean for you to go all Tim Burton.”
“I wasted all my bat swagger on you,” I growl, stepping inside the house.
“Taking this neighbor thing seriously, aren’t you?” I don’t miss the way she checks out my ass when I clear the doorway and lean down to whisper in her ear.
“I take plenty of things seriously, you got your fill of my ass or should I strike a pose?”
The smile leaves her as her laugh dies, and her features twist into a scowl. It only took me five seconds to piss her off this round. “He’s brushing his teeth.”
“For? Isn’t he about to rot them with candy?”
“Exactly. Defense is the best offense.”
“Uh huh.”
Burning up, I shift in my suit, ready to rid myself of it, but the smile on my son’s face and the awe in his eyes when he runs into the living room makes it worth it. He’s worth every sacrifice I could ever make.
“BATMAN!”
“Hey, bud.” When he comes into full view wearing a frog costume, carrying a top hat, I can’t help my laugh. “Michigan J. Frog, I presume?”
I turn to Clarissa, who shrugs. “He insisted on changing his costume last minute. He can’t stop watching the videos.”
“Is it cool?” Dante looks up at me with hopeful eyes.
“The coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Really?” He squeaks, anxious for my approval, which causes a raw ache in my chest.
“Absolutely. Just don’t be upset if no one gets
it right away, okay?”
“That’s the point. Duh.”
“Go get your shoes on,” Clarissa tells Dante, and he gathers them from the door and goes to sit at the kitchen table.
“He’s so…cool,” I say as he misses the first catch in the loop of his shoestrings and tries again.
“Yeah,” Clarissa says pridefully as we both watch him tie his shoes. “He is.”
I’ve never met any kid like him, and I can’t get over the fact that I had a hand at creating him. “I can’t wait to see what he comes up with next year.”
She nods, surprised by my revelation that I’ll be sticking around, and I face her fully, irritated by her response.
“Really?” My whisper is harsh. “Is it so hard to believe I’ll be here next year?”
“What about football?”
“What about it?”
“You’re going to get drafted.”
“We’ll cross that bridge if it happens.”
“Troy, it’s going to happen.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, but I’m pretty sure football players have families as well as their careers.”
“Yeah, but we’re not coming with you.” I swallow hard, any argument sliding down my throat. It’s a daily habit when it comes to conversations with her. I can have a crowd of thousands chanting my name, but one remark from Clarissa can have me scraping my pride off the floor between us. Somehow over the years, she’s gained that power over me. “Look, the draft is months away. Can we not discuss it tonight?”
She nods, and I summon my son. “Come on, buddy, candy is waiting.”
Dante lights up and comes running toward me, his empty plastic jack-o-lantern in hand. Scooping him up, I hand Clarissa my phone. “Can we get a picture?” Dante wiggles in my arms, eager to get the candy gathering underway. “Hold still, So—”
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 36
