“John is one of the best college quarterbacks and you know it, Dad.”
“Then how come he hasn’t won a goddamn title for you yet? Look, I wanted you to go with me to meet—”
Oh, hell no.
“Listen, Dad, gotta run. Coach called a late meeting. I’ll see you during Thanksgiving break.” When my dad’s in this state, it’s pointless to try to reason with him. And I’m not. I’m done.
I hang up before he can get another word in about going to the secret Michigan trip he has planned and toss my cell on the counter. It skids across the Formica and bounces off the wall but doesn’t fall to the floor. Thank God.
First Olivia and now my dad. A crappy day capped off by a crappy evening. We lost the game against Purdue and I had to watch that ass Milton crow like he had anything to do with the win. He fumbled the ball twice but our defense wasn’t able to capitalize on it.
I played half of the second quarter and when I was out there I kept asking myself, Is this what I really want to do with my life? Take blows to the head, get tackled every time I turn around. More than once I wondered what—or namely who—I was playing football for. And after conversations like the one I just had with my dad, I wanna quit. Get him off my goddamn back for good.
I don’t want or need the glory of going professional. I look at the shit my brother goes through: the groupies, gold-diggers, the high-profile marriage that crashed and burned in the spotlight of the media. Who needs it? I sure as hell don’t.
CHAPTER TWELVE
OLIVIA
April comes back to find me sitting cross-legged in my pajamas—an oversized Florida State University t-shirt my brother got me when he attended—on the bed. It’s a little after seven and I’m too wired from my fight with Zach to do anything else but go over it again and again in my mind.
“In bed already?” she asks archly as she dumps her bag and books on her desk. Plopping down onto her unmade bed, she removes her gorgeous but completely unsuitable boots with a grimace and a blissful sigh of relief. You couldn’t pay me to wear those heels all day with all the walking I have to do.
“Okay, tell me what’s wrong. Something must have happened. You never eat in bed.”
I peer at her from over my pint of fudge-ripple ice cream—my favorite comfort food. “I had a fight with Zach.”
That bit of information has her scrambling to my side, her green eyes alive with curiosity.
“Dish,” she instructs.
The story tumbles out between spoonfuls of decadent fudge and cream. Like any good litigator, April listens closely with only minor interruptions. Did Rebecca say she thought the guy was a football player or knew he was? Did he actually say he heard you put out or that he thought you did? Zach was here? No, you didn’t!
“Liv, I don’t know. I have a bad feeling about this,” April concludes when I finish. “I mean you can’t know for sure he was the one who started it. Before you go accusing him, you need to give him a chance to explain.”
“April, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side, it’s just that it sounds like he’s really mad that you would think he could do something like that. But then, who else could it have been, right?”
Whether she’s just saying that to console me or actually believes it, I’m not sure. But the whole situation has completely sucked the joy out of my first month of college.
“Just don’t say anything to Troy. The less people who know about this, the better.” If Zach wants to tell him, he’s welcome to. I certainly can’t stop him. But I have a feeling he won’t.
April is silent long enough for me to wonder if I’m asking the impossible. Finally she nods. “Okay, I won’t say a word. But boy is this going to make things awkward. Troy invited us over for dinner Friday.”
“Well you can count me out.” I can’t imagine ever stepping foot inside their apartment again.
How is it possible that I went to school with Zach for four years and never exchanged more than two words with him and now in the matter of less than a month the thought of not talking to him makes me feel more wretched than I did when I realized Jennie had betrayed me? None of this makes logical sense.
“Are you sure you don’t want me—”
“No!” I say emphatically. “There’s nothing more to say. I know it’s him and there isn’t anything he can say to me that will make what he did okay.”
April snaps her mouth shut, pressing her lips tightly together. After a beat she says, “Okay, if that’s the way you want it.”
It’s not the way I want it but it’s the way it’s going to have to be.
The weekend has officially begun for us because neither of us have Friday classes. We stay up until the early hours of the morning talking and April recites the lines of the male role while I practice Caroline’s lines for the audition. After an hour, I think I have it nailed, or at least I hope I do.
The auditions start tomorrow at ten a.m. and run until next week Tuesday.
I try to put my fight with Zach out of my mind, but I can’t help remembering how mad he was and how hurt he appeared, which has me questioning myself. When I finally fall asleep, I can’t shake the niggling feeling that’s telling me I might just be wrong about him…again.
~*~*~
I wake up to April shaking my shoulders. She’s still in her pajamas, a yellow tank top and matching checkered yellow, blue and purple bottoms.
“It’s nine. Isn’t your audition at ten?” she asks around a yawn and a stretch as she makes her way back to her bed and crawls under her flowered comforter.
That jolts me out of bed. I shower and dress in record time and make it down to Lawrence Theatre with ten minutes to spare. I use up every one of them going over my lines.
There’s about twenty of us there and I’m third in line. By the time it’s my turn, my palms are damp and my hands aren’t quite as steady as I wish they were. Pete, the guy I’m reading with looks just as I pictured Mac. Tall and athletic, good-looking if you’re into blonds. I’ve always been a sucker for dark, tousled hair and blue bedroom eyes. An image of Zach pops into my head. I dismiss it just as quickly.
Pete’s smile puts me at ease and thirty minutes later, I leave the audition feeling pretty good about my performance—okay, thrilled about it—but I can’t tell by the expression on my drama teacher’s face whether she was anywhere near as impressed.
With the audition out of the way, I have the rest of the day and the weekend to look forward to. I’m climbing the sloping walkway past the commons that leads back to my dorm, when the ping of an incoming text message sounds.
I dig my cell out of my purse. Rebecca’s name and text message is displayed at the top of the screen.
Rebecca: Where are you?
Continuing toward the dorm, I text her back.
Me: Just left my audition. On the way to my room.
Rebecca: How’d it go?
Me: Great, good, I guess…crossing fingers I was as good as I thought I was. LOL
Rebecca: Hehehe, right. Fingers and toes crossed over here. What r u doing 4 lunch?
Me: Eating.
Rebecca: Hardy har har. Save me from cafeteria food 4 the 7th day in a row. Pizza? My treat.
I maneuver around a group of girls, heads together deep in conversation and nearly plow head-on into—my head snaps up—Zach. His hands grip my forearms, stopping me from making frontal full-body contact. The speed at which he let’s go of me is a pretty good indication that he didn’t know it was me. The way heat pools in my lower stomach and proceeds south is a pretty good indication of just how much he still affects me.
For a few seconds there’s nothing but silence. The girls—now about a foot behind us—turn interested gazes toward Zach. I swallow and try to compose myself by reminding myself what he did and why I’m mad. I definitely don’t want him to know how much he’s hurt me.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.” I deliberately make my voice this-doesn’t-faze-me cool.
Watching me through narrowed eyes, he nods curtly and then continues walking. Away from me.
I have to literally force myself from turning around and watching him go but the three girls behind me aren’t quite as reticent.
“Who the hell is that?” one girl asks in a breathless giggle.
“He’s eye-candy with muscles,” is the last thing I hear before I’m out of earshot.
It takes me a couple seconds to recover from the encounter. I inhale a breath and summon back up some of my anger. I can’t believe him. He has some nerve acting like he’s the injured party here. Like I did something to him and not the other way around.
I gaze down at my phone, my face burning hot despite the chill in the air.
Rebecca: hello????
Me: I’m here. What time?
Rebecca: 12:00. Any later & we’ll have to wait 4ever to get a table.
Me: My roommate, April…?
Rebecca: the more the merrier. Exercising my dad’s visa card.
Me: I’ll drive.
Rebecca: Cool pick me up in 45
Me: C u then.
Trying to put my recent run-in (literally) with Zach in the back of my mind, I rustle a still-sleeping April out of bed and tell her she’s got forty minutes to make herself presentable, which to her means dress so guys will sit up and beg.
April and Rebecca still haven’t met but I’ve mentioned Rebecca to April so she knows what to expect. We pick her up at her dorm, and by the time we pull into Giordano’s Pizza, they’re yapping like a bunch of magpies and you’d think they’ve been friends for eons and a day.
At quarter after twelve, we’re late and it shows. The parking lot is almost at capacity but I’m lucky and score a parking spot close to the doors when an older couple pulls out. In the restaurant, our luck holds. There’s a table for three available so we’re seated immediately. I shrug out of my jacket and hang it over my chair along with my purse. Rebecca and April do the same.
We settle in and indulge in idle chitchat until our waitress takes our order: one Coke, two Diet Cokes and a large pepperoni pizza, extra cheese, light on the sauce.
“So, Rebecca, do you have a boyfriend?” April likes to get right to the point.
“No, but I’ve got this Eddie Cibrian look-alike in my sights,” Rebecca states with a suggestive rise of her brow. “He dresses like a jock but I’m still doing my reconnaissance. I’ll let you know what I find out.” That said, she tears off a piece of the complimentary breadsticks the waitress recently placed on the table, and pops it into her mouth.
Uh oh. I glance at April who has that deer-caught-in-headlights look on her face. She knows exactly who Rebecca is referring to.
“Eddie Cibrian, huh? I think I know who you’re talking about.” I’m grabbing the tiger by the tail or however that saying goes. And it’s strictly for selfish reasons. I want my best friend and my new friend to be friends so it’s best we lay all the cards on the table now.
Eyes lit with excitement, Rebecca quickly swallows. “Who?” she demands sharply. “Now you realize, don’t you, that you know all the hot guys?”
I ignore her oblique reference to Zach and continue. “It’s Troy, April’s best friend from high school.” If I put extra emphasis on the words best friend, that was inadvertent. I’m simply not convinced there’s nothing going on between them. “And you’re right, he is a jock. He’s on the football team.”
Rebecca directs an incredulous stare at April. “That guy is your best friend? Your best friend?” she repeats, her voice rising in disbelief.
In response, April does something she rarely does; she blushes and the stain of color is highest on her cheekbones. Then she looks across the table at Rebecca, lifts her chin and flashes a smile. “We’re just friends.” She parrots it like a well-rehearsed line. “We’ve known each other since we were five.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrow and after a beat of silence she says, “So you wouldn’t mind if I make a play for him?” With her dark, thick hair pulled back in a ponytail, today Rebecca is channeling Kate Beckinsale in the role of the girl-next-door more than ever. Her camel sweater sets off her blue eyes and brown textured jeans are fashionable without looking too trendy. In other words, she’d probably be perfect for Troy.
My gaze darts to April when she doesn’t immediately reply. She looks like she’s trying to collect her thoughts, unsure of what to say.
“He already has a girlfriend,” I offer.
April shakes her head. “Not anymore. They broke up a couple weeks ago.”
Really? That’s news to me.
“So he’s free?” Rebecca presses.
“I guess so,” April says with a faint smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
After a moment, Rebecca says, “You’re as bad a liar as Olivia.” She looks pointedly at me.
Huh? My spine goes taut. “What does that mean?”
April stares wide-eyed at her, looking equally aggrieved.
A smile dances at the corner of Rebecca’s mouth as she gives a careless shrug and picks up the menu in front of her. “It means you’re either both lying to me or you’re lying to yourself. Come on.” She draws out the latter. “If you weren’t really interested in these guys, you’d be happy to set me up with them. I mean, you claim these guys are your friends, which means they must be good enough to date, right?”
“You know I’m not even talking to Zach after what he did,” I protest but not disputing her claim absolutely. “And as my friend, why would you even want to go out with him now?” Girlfriends are supposed to stick together.
“I’m talking even before the—” she ducks her head, leans forward over the table, cupping her hand at the side of her mouth and whispers, “—rumors that you put out started circulating.” Pulling back, she drops her hand, sits up straight in her chair and resumes speaking in a normal voice. “When I asked you if you wouldn’t mind if I made a play for him, you reacted almost exactly the same way April just did.”
I’d be wasting my breath if I denied it. And not because it’s the truth but because not even April would believe me.
“But without the phony laugh at the end,” Rebecca adds.
April brings her palm down on the wood table with just enough force to make her point but not enough force to draw undue attention to us. “I wasn’t being phony,” she whispers fiercely.
“No you’re not, but your laugh was,” Rebecca replies smugly and I get the distinct impression she’s enjoying this. A lot. “Oh, come on you guys, it’s not that I don’t get it. I do. If I had guy friends like that, I wouldn’t want them dating anyone much less my girlfriends. I’m just cursing my luck that it seems all my new friends have a thing for every guy who gets my juices flowing.”
“No,” April says, shaking her head, “Troy doesn’t see me like that.”
Rebecca chokes out a laugh. “Are you kidding me? Sweetie, I don’t think there’s a guy alive who doesn’t see you like that.”
I’m more interested in the fact that my best friend just stated, Troy doesn’t see me like that as opposed to, we don’t see each other like that. To me, there’s a very telling difference between the two. But now’s not the time to point that out. However, my situation with Zach is completely different. I never claimed that we were buddies or anything like that. At the end of the day, our falling-out is not even a ripple on a pond. I cut off the voice in my head before the little irritant can contradict me.
April looks like she doesn’t know whether she should take Rebecca’s last comment as a compliment or not, although clearly it was.
“Think what you want, but I know exactly the way things stand between me and Troy.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Since you two are practically the only friends I have here, I really can’t afford to piss you off.”
I try to stifle a grin because I should still be irked at her but lose the fight. Of course she’s lying. Rebecca’s the pretty and popular kind of girl who makes friends easily. Every time I�
��ve seen her outside of class, she’s surrounded by a group of students—male and female alike. And each and every time, she calls me over and performs the introductions. I’ve met a ton of people through her.
April manages to hold hers off longer than I did but succumbs in the end. The next thing I know we’re all giggling like a bunch of school-aged girls.
“But since I’m making this incredible sacrifice, you both have to promise to keep your eyes open for a guy for me. My requirements are simple. He can’t be shallow or weak and he can’t be blond.” Rebecca makes a face. “He also cannot be into hot blondes.” She gives me a stern pointed look…then winks. “Or gorgeous brunettes who make me want to gouge my eyes out.” April is on the receiving end of her next death glare and wink.
And in that moment, I know just like April, Rebecca Ann Winters is going to be one of those friends I’ll keep for life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZACH
I want to say, over the past couple weeks, I put the incident with Olivia out of my mind. The thing is I have to see her at least twice a week in class. Invariably, I’ll catch sight of her around campus, but I do my best to avoid her when I can.
I wasn’t able to avoid her last week when she’d walked right smack into me. It’d taken me a second to remember why I didn’t like her and why my body shouldn’t react the way it does when I see, much less come, in physical contact with her.
I just keep telling myself that I don’t give a shit what she thinks of me. The fact that her opinion is so horrifically wrong really pisses me off. I have no problem owning up to shit I actually do but I’ll be damned if I’ll let some prissy-ass blonde lay the blame on me for shit I didn’t do. And that’s as much as I’m going to think about her tonight. With us leaving for Paris on Saturday, it’s enough we’ll be forced together all next week.
When in Paris... (Language of Love) Page 13
