Rowan’s lips twitch as mine do the same. “You don’t have anything to worry about in that regard.”
“Yeah,” Dad takes a pull from his bottle of beer, “I don’t think so either, but I have to issue the warning nevertheless.”
“Fair enough,” Rowan says.
“How did you find out?” It’s only been a few days since we went public, and we’ve tried to be so careful. I figured we had some time before we needed to tell him.
My father grins before sitting back and readjusting the ball cap on his head. “Haven’t you learned over the years that not much gets past me?”
I roll my eyes to show him exactly what I think about that statement. Give me a break. I could have easily snuck around when I was a teenager, and I didn’t. He’s always been so preoccupied with football or at the field with the guys. Hell, Mom was gone for a couple of days before he finally noticed and asked where she was. And that was only because he ran out of clean clothes to wear. If he had more of a wardrobe, it might have taken longer.
“I’m serious.” Now that my father knows and is apparently okay with our relationship, my appetite comes back full force, and I pick up a fry to nibble on. “How did you figure it out?”
A cagey look enters his eyes as a grin simmers around the corners of his lips. “Did you forget about the doorbell camera out front?”
My mouth drops open as my eyes widen.
Well, shit. Guess I did.
He nods, accurately gauging the dismay on my face. “I knew Rowan was here the entire weekend I was recruiting.” He pauses before clearing his throat. “I assume, of course, you two slept in separate bedrooms?”
And just like that, awkwardness descends.
When neither of us jump in to tackle that particular question, Dad hastily throws up his hands. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know. Like ever.” He shoots to his feet and grabs our plates before hauling ass to the kitchen as if he can’t get away from us fast enough.
Once he disappears through the sliding door, I glance at Rowan and shake my head. I’m pretty sure my face is moments away from going up in flames.
He knew Rowan spent the weekend...
Oh, the horror of it all.
Rowan rotates his hand until he can envelope my fingers before giving them a gentle squeeze. “Overall, the conversation went better than expected.”
“You realize,” I point out in case he missed it, “that my father thinks we’re knocking boots.”
His shoulders shake as he laughs. “Kind of ironic since we haven’t, huh?”
“Yeah,” I grumble, “ironic.”
He shrugs. “If you’d like, I’d be more than happy to set him straight.”
No, thank you.
I’m not sure which is worse—letting my dad think we’ve already done the deed or telling him the truth.
Can’t say I ever thought that would be a decision that needed to be made.
30
Rowan
I push open the front door to the house I share off-campus with five players from the football team. As soon as I step inside, laughter and good-natured ribbing greet my ears. There are about a dozen or so people crammed into the living room. A few of the guys are playing Madden on the Xbox. Girls are draped over them, staking out their prospects for the evening. It’s Monday night, and everyone wants to chill out, play some video games, and have a few beers. If the chicks in various states of undress are any indication, getting laid will probably be high on the agenda. For obvious reasons, that’s never been my thing, but I’m certainly not going to hold it against my friends if that’s what they choose to do.
To each their own.
There have been times when I’ve thought it might be nice to live by myself or with another person, but I’ve never been able to afford that kind of luxury. The more people there are to share rent with, the easier it is to make the money I earn over the summer stretch throughout the year. My athletic and academic scholarships cover tuition, room and board but not much else. So, I have to be careful. Once I make it to the NFL, life will be so much easier. Not only for me but my mom as well. I’ve worked damn hard to make sure those dreams become a reality. I have to make this season the best of my college career and see what happens in the spring.
“Hey, Michaels, grab a cold one and join us. It’s been a while since I kicked your ass in Madden.”
“Please, Kendricks. I don’t think you’ve ever kicked my ass unless it was in your dreams. And I told you before, I don’t swing that way. So keep me out of them.”
When he snorts and gives me the finger, letting me know that I’m number one, I blow him a kiss.
“Yo, Michaels!”
My gaze slides to Asher Stevens. “Yeah?” He’s a tight end—one of the best to come through Western’s program in a good decade. There’s no way he won’t be a first-round draft pick. The funny thing is that he could be even better, but the guy parties like it’s his job in life.
We finished practice a little less than an hour ago, and already he looks three sheets to the wind. Nothing unusual there. This is a guy who likes to burn the candle at both ends. I keep waiting for him to crash and burn but he continues to surprise me by breaking records on the field and staying academically compliant.
The girl straddling his lap is wearing a thong and nothing else.
Upon closer inspection, I realize she’s not the only one who has already shed her clothing. Looks like shit is about to get wild around here, which only makes me wish for the umpteenth time that I had my own place. When I agreed to live with these guys, I’d figured most would be over all the drinking, partying, and fucking.
Turns out that’s not the case.
Hell, some are more into it now than ever before. Kind of like it’s their final hoorah. Every damn night. Even in the middle of our season. If I thought for one moment that it affected our level of play or the outcome of games, I’d put the kibosh on it. But we’re doing pretty well. If that changes, I’ll be the first one on their asses.
“A letter came for you in the mail.” He points to the dilapidated table in the dining room. “It’s over there.”
A letter?
Weird. Since I change addresses almost every year, most of my mail goes to my mom’s apartment.
“Thanks.” I turn away from the orgy that’s about to break loose and head into the dining room to sift through a pile of mostly advertisements and junk before finding a plain white envelope with my name and address scrawled across the front of it.
Even though there’s no return address in the top left-hand corner, my muscles tense, recognizing the handwriting. Everything stills inside me as I stare at the correspondence in my hands. I don’t realize they’re shaking until my name blurs. It takes a concerted effort to still them. This is stupid. I need to open it and see what the motherfucker wants. Or...maybe I should toss it in the trash where it belongs, and pretend I never saw it.
Except that’s not how I tackle problems. I meet them head-on. I learned at an early age that it’s the only way to deal with shit. And make no mistake, that would be an accurate description of my father.
Always has been.
Always will be.
Thank fuck there’s no return address. I glance uneasily at my teammates, who are laughing and screwing around in the living room. None of them are aware that my father is a current resident of the state penitentiary. I’ve done everything in my power to keep my past separate from the life I created for myself at Western University. And if I have my way, that’s how it’ll stay when I turn pro.
Fury surges through me as I stare blindly at the envelope.
Doesn’t this guy realize the best thing he can do is to leave me the hell alone? Apparently not. Every once in a while, he’ll send a letter asking me to visit. I can’t resist thinking that he has a lot of fucking nerve. Not once in the ten years that he’s been locked up have I ever bothered to respond. After reading it, I’ll rip the letter to shreds and toss it in the
garbage. It usually takes a couple of days for the unease that settles in the pit of my belly to dissipate as I do my best to forget the man who spawned me until another unmarked letter arrives in the mail months later.
Thankfully, they’re far and few in between.
Instead of tossing it directly into the garbage, I carefully open the envelope like it’s a bomb seconds away from detonation and unfold the paper from inside. My heart jackhammers a painful staccato as I glance at the sparse lines that are painstakingly written. My father has never been a verbose man. Honestly, I’m not sure if he graduated from high school. He’s been a petty thief for most of his life before he got wrapped up in someone else’s bigger operation.
And he paid the price for it.
The first line knocks the breath from my lungs. It’s as if I’ve been kicked in the chest by a horse.
Wanted you to know that I’ve been released.
What the ever-loving fuck?
My head spins at this unexpected news. The prosecutor who put my father away said he would spend twenty years in prison. The guy murdered someone in cold blood. He belongs behind bars, locked up like the animal he is.
Where society is safe from him.
Where Mom is safe from him.
I’d like to see you.
Yeah, there’s not a chance in hell of that happening.
Unwilling to read the rest, I crumple the letter in my fist until it’s a tightly wadded up ball. I’m tempted to hurtle it across the room but fight back the impulse. That’s the difference between me and my old man. I have control and exert it at all times. I never allow myself to be driven by impulse. If I do something rash, it’s only because I’ve given it thought and decided it’s worth the risk of consequences.
Like hitting Justin.
Totally worth it.
Don’t regret it for a second.
And furthermore, I’d do it again.
I nearly jump out of my skin when delicate hands slide their way around my ribcage. For a heartbeat, I relax, assuming it’s Demi. After that fucked up letter, she’s exactly what I need. That girl is a balm for the soul. She’s the only person capable of making me forget the bullshit trying to press in at the edges.
Except...when the hands snaked around me come into view, the fingernails are painted bright pink. There is no way Demi would be caught dead wearing that color polish. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear polish. Whoever this girl is, her nails are long and lethal like talons. Demi’s are short and blunt. Kind of like mine. It’s difficult to play sports with long-ass claws. Especially soccer.
Since I’m not sure who I’m dealing with, I carefully wrap my fingers around slender wrists and pry them from my ribcage before turning around. What I find is a toothy brunette smiling coyly at me. She’s wearing a low-cut top that displays a ton of cleavage. Not wanting her to get the wrong impression, I take a hasty step in retreat. She’s got a hungry look about her as if she’ll devour me whole if I give her the green light to proceed. I’m half-afraid she’ll do it regardless.
“Hi, Rowan.” She flutters her fingers in a wave. “I was hoping to run into you.”
Since I live here, the odds of that happening were stacked in her favor.
“Hey.” My athletic bag is still slung across my shoulder. I slide it in front of me as a barrier. This girl is probably a foot shorter than I am and weighs half as much. It’s not like I couldn’t fight her off if I had to. But there’s a determined look in her eyes as if she’s a woman on a mission, and I’ve dealt with enough girls since stepping foot on campus to know which ones are more tenacious and have a harder time taking no for an answer.
I almost shake my head. That sounds crazy. Most guys would be more than happy to take this chick up on anything she’s offering for the night.
Guess I’m not most guys.
She steps toward me, closing the small amount of distance I’ve managed to put between us. Her titties bounce as she moves. I have some serious doubts that she’s wearing a bra.
Not that I’m looking.
Fine, so maybe I glanced. It’s kind of hard not to.
With a seductive grin, her manicured fingers graze over her flat belly and ribcage before settling on her chest. One pink-tipped finger swirls around her nipple until it hardens. She reaches up with her other hand, plucking at both breasts until the tips are poking out of the front of her T-shirt like headlights.
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “Ummm...”
“Trust me, they’re even more spectacular up close and personal.”
I clear my throat. “I’m, ah, not interested. But thanks.” I take another step away before the situation can escalate.
Her fingers go to the hem of her shirt. “Maybe you should see them for yourself.”
“No,” I shake my head, “that’s not really—”
“Or maybe you could pretend to have a little bit of self-respect and take the hint. He’s already told you that he’s not interested.”
Oh, fuck.
Well, this isn’t good. Even though I’m relieved to see Demi, the last thing I want is for her to jump to the wrong conclusion. She plasters a smile on her face before turning to the busty brunette who has thankfully released the bottom of her shirt.
The other girl frowns before flicking a long sheath of hair over her shoulder. “Who are you?”
Demi’s lips slide into a smile as she threads her arm through mine. “I’m Rowan’s girlfriend.”
The brunette’s eyes widen. She blinks a few times as if she must have heard incorrectly before throwing a frown in my direction. “You have a girlfriend?”
“Yup.” I grin, thrilled that Demi has admitted the truth. “I sure do.” I smack a kiss on her cheek for good measure.
“You didn’t mention it,” she says with a pout.
“I’m sure he was,” Demi’s gaze drops to the other girl’s breasts, “distracted.”
The brunette smiles as if given a compliment. “Thank you!” She reaches up and brushes her fingers over her breasts until her nips are once again standing at attention. “They’re amazing, aren’t they?”
Demi’s brow furrows as she openly stares at the other girl’s boobs as if seriously considering the question. I’m going to be totally honest here...I’m not sure what’s going on.
I’m a little uncomfortable.
And turned on.
This is so wrong.
“Yeah, they are,” she finally admits.
The other girl drops her voice as she sidles closer to her. “Any chance you’re interested in a threesome?”
“Sorry,” Demi shakes her head, “I’m not into sharing.”
“Yeah,” she sighs, her gaze lingering on me as if undressing me with her eyes. “I can understand why you would feel that way. My name is Cassie.” She winks. “If you change your mind, come find me. I’ll totally make it worth your while.” With that proposal thrown out there, she saunters off toward the living room.
It takes a moment to realize my eyebrows are somewhere in the vicinity of my hairline as I meet Demi’s widened gaze.
“I don’t even know what to say to that,” she murmurs with a slight frown.
Her reaction makes my lips twitch. It takes a lot to knock Demi off-balance. “Sorry.”
Genuine confusion laces her voice as she waves a hand toward the living room. “How did you ever hang on to your virginity?”
I shrug. “Guess the right girl never came along and propositioned me.”
“Oh, really?” Now it’s her turn to hike a brow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”
A chuckle escapes from my lips. Well, she’s got me there. The girl has been coming at me hard for three weeks, and I’ve been fending off her advances at every turn. Kind of like a superhero. Apparently, remaining a virgin is my superpower. Just kidding. I’ve wanted her for years, and now that she’s finally mine, it’s important to take it slow.
When I don’t respond, she points to my hand. “What’
s that?”
I glance at the crumpled paper and blink back to awareness as the past crashes down on me like a twenty-story building.
“Nothing. Just garbage.” I clear my throat, wanting to steer the conversation in a different direction. “You ready to study?”
“Yup.” We have a stats test tomorrow, and I need to go over the material one more time. I need to get that grade up, or the possibility of my ass getting benched is a very real one. I can’t afford to let that happen. Not with the upcoming draft. Every time I step onto the field, all eyes are on me.
I grab her hand and tow her past the living room. Before we reach the first tread, a couple of guys call out greetings to her. Asher and Brayden grin like Cheshire cats with bird feathers sticking out from between their teeth.
Honestly...they’re like a bunch of fucking children.
When I glare, the smiles fall from their faces, and they look away. Once we reach the second floor, I shutter us in my room. The music and boisterous voices fade. Instead of mentioning the orgy that’s about to go down, Demi glances around the undecorated space. There’s a queen-sized bed that dominates the room, a tall dresser and a matching desk that I picked up at the Salvation Army last year when I moved off-campus. Both have seen better days, but they’ll get me through the rest of this year, and that’s what matters.
She glances at the mattress. “Well, I suppose this is one way to get you into bed.”
“Maybe it would be better if we worked at the library. I’m not sure if you’re going to be able to keep your hands to yourself.”
A slow smile spreads across her face, and it hits me like a punch to the gut. “I guess that’s a chance you’re gonna have to take.”
I suppose it is. I’ve been holding Demi off, but I don’t have the strength to keep it up for much longer. It’s not only her that I’m battling, but myself as well.
An hour later, we’re settled in the middle of the bed with a statistics book splayed open in front of us. Demi pelts me nonstop with questions. The girl is relentless. It’s only one of the things I like about her.
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