by Celia Aaron
I’d tried to put myself in his shoes, but I couldn’t even fathom the idea of having a trust fund or being in a family that hand-selected the people I was allowed to spend time with. Surely, I would buck them and do what I wanted with my life. Right? I lay on my side and yanked my forest green blanket over my head. Ellie popped her gum.
“Want to, like, talk about it?” Her bored voice filtered through the cotton.
“No.”
“Cool.” Another pop of her gum.
Ellie and I had been randomly paired together when we were freshmen since I didn’t have any friends coming to Billingsley with me. And, really, if I were being honest, I didn’t make that many friends back home to start with.
We’d kept the same living arrangement since we got along for the most part. Ellie had been a decent roommate, except for the times she’d brought guys back to the room without any notice, or when she forgot her keys, or when she called me from random frats and asked me to be her designated driver. I was beginning to rethink my classification of Ellie as a decent roommate when a knock sounded at the door.
The last unannounced visitor had been Trent. The second knock sent a thrill of adrenaline through me, though I didn’t like my response. I wanted to put him out of my mind, not get a rush at the thought of seeing him.
I heard her feet slap across the tiles to the door.
“Cordy here?” Landon’s voice.
“Yep.”
A moment later, the foot of my bed shifted. “Cordy?”
“How’d you get in here?”
“I know Brandy at the front desk.” He rested his hand on my calf.
“Like from class?”
“No.” He laughed and then cut it short. “From other things.”
Brandy was likely turning out to be the worst desk attendant Hope Hall had ever seen.
“What happened to taco Tuesday?”
I groaned into my pillow. “I’m sorry. I forgot. Something happened.”
“I figured that since you’re hiding under your blanket. What’s going on?”
“Trent.”
His hand tightened on my calf. “What did he do?”
I shook my leg, and he let up. “He frickin’ took me to La Café Blanc. And there were flowers, and music, and food, and the entire restaurant to ourselves.”
“That doesn’t sound like anything to cry about,” Ellie chirped.
“Put a sock in it, Ellie.” Landon’s voice was low. “What else did he do?”
“I don’t know.” I wanted to flip the blanket down and get some cooler air, but I didn’t want them to see what a mess I was. “He told me all this stuff. Like, bad stuff.”
Landon scooted closer, his shadow falling over my face. “What did he say?”
I nibbled my bottom lip. I didn’t want Landon to do anything to Trent. And the stupid part of me that I couldn’t turn off—the part that still ached for Trent to be a good man—didn’t want Landon to hate him, either.
“Cordy, tell me.” He rested his hand on my arm.
The blanket started slipping, and I turned my face farther into the pillow as he pulled it all the way to my shoulder.
“Come on.” He smoothed the wet strands of hair from my face. “Tell me.”
I shrugged. “He just said that dating me would have displeased his parents.”
“What else?” His voice was tight, his jaw clenched.
I glanced up at him, and he smoothed his palm over my cheek, though I could feel the anger roiling inside him. I decided to keep my response as vague as possible. “Just that he’s a Carrington, you know? I guess that means a lot to people like him or something.”
“You’re over there crying about Trent Carrington?” Ellie blew on her fingernails.
I stared at her. It wasn’t as if I could deny it.
“He’s hot. My dad used to be the foreman at one of his dad’s car parts factories before he retired. We went to Mr. Carrington’s funeral a few months ago. Trent was smoking hot in a black suit and tie.” She whistled for emphasis then popped her gum. “He was really broken up, though.”
At the restaurant, Trent had started off with the news that his father had died. I’d glossed over it once he told me the rest of his story, then forgotten about it completely as I nursed my newly injured heart.
I shifted to get a better look at Ellie. “What happened to him?”
“I don’t know. I would have loved to comfort him. Damn, he was fine.” She started painting a clear coat, her long blonde hair falling in a curtain on either side of her face.
I stifled my eye roll, barely. “Not Trent. His father. What happened to him?”
“Oh.” She squinted her eyes, focusing on her polish task. “Cancer. Leukemia maybe?”
I settled back into my pillow. Had Trent’s father objected to me? Had his death meant that Trent was free and clear of the trust fund threat? A queasy feeling slithered around my stomach at the thought of Trent coming back for me only after knowing his money was safe.
Landon scoffed. “I don’t care about Trent or his father. All I want to know is where he lives.”
“Why?” I grabbed his forearm.
“I’m going to kick his ass for thinking he’s better than you.”
“He doesn’t think that.” I closed my eyes and tried to go back through the things he said with a more objective approach. “He never said he agreed with his parents, only that he would stop seeing me so that his trust fund—”
Landon ripped his forearm from my grasp and rose. “You’ve got to be kidding me. He treated you like shit so he could keep his fucking trust fund?” His snarl verged on frightening.
Ellie made a purring sound in her throat. “You look good when you’re angry.”
I sat up, and Landon’s gaze traced the line of my thin tank top down over my breasts. I yanked the blanket back up.
“Why don’t you ever wear that to class?” His voice still carried anger, but his signature smirk hinted at making an appearance.
“All girls, Landon!” I huffed. “This is an all girls’ dorm. You aren’t supposed to be in here!”
“Glad I broke the rules.” He turned back toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a preppy ass to beat.”
“No!” I stood and pulled the blanket along with me. It wouldn’t help if he saw the small pajama shorts that matched the top.
“Why not?” He placed his hand on the doorknob.
“I need him in one piece for tomorrow. He’s my holder.” That was the only reason. No other reason at all.
“Fuck!” He jiggled the door handle mercilessly, his frustration rising.
Ellie snorted and screwed her bottle of clear polish shut. “You break it; you buy it.”
I walked to him. “I need you to support me here, okay? Trent is an asshole. I think even he knows that. But tomorrow is about me, about winning that scholarship. I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
He leaned forward and rested his head on the door frame. “I can’t stand him.”
“I know.” I ran my hand down his back, over the lettering of his vintage Megadeth t-shirt. “After tomorrow, I might even be rooting you on. But for now, I need to get some sleep and focus on kicking. Worrying about you and Trent getting into a fight isn’t going to help me accomplish either of those goals.”
He turned and pulled me into his arms. It was nice, but nothing even close to the way my blood turned to liquid fire whenever Trent touched me.
Resting his chin on my head, he sighed. “I won’t touch him until after tryouts. Okay?”
“That’s all I need. But I don’t want you fighting at all. I can handle him.” I thought it best not to add that it was obvious Trent was bigger and stronger, and that Landon would likely wind up on the losing end of any confrontation. No point in harming his pride.
“He’s not good enough for you. You know that, right?” He squeezed me tighter.
I didn’t have a response, so I just snuggled in closer.
&
nbsp; “I could go for a hug,” Ellie grumbled.
Landon laughed, some of the tension draining from him. “That can be arranged.”
I backed up and waggled my finger at him. “No. I can’t have things super awkward in my own dorm room. Do your dirt elsewhere.”
He smiled, his dark eyes lighting up with mischief. “So as long as I don’t do it here, we’re good?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” I lowered my voice. “Ellie is off limits.”
“I can hear you, you know.” Ellie clicked off the light on her side of the room and flounced down into her bed.
He put a hand on his hip and pointed to my bed with the other. “Get to bed. You need your rest.”
I studied his face. “Promise you won’t do anything?”
“The only thing I’m going to do is go back to my dorm and turn in. I’ll be out bright and early to watch you kick. I haven’t gotten up before eight o’clock in years.” He rubbed a hand across the sandy stubble on his jaw. “This is going to be tough.”
I walked backward to my bed and kept the blanket pulled around me. “You can do it.”
“For you, I can.” He gave me a wry smile before turning and opening the door. Stepping out into the hall, he glanced back. “It’s cold out there. I need something to keep me warm on the walk. Can I just get one more peek at your pajamas?”
“Out!” I laughed and sank onto my bed as he closed the door.
Ellie turned her back to me in a huff as I arranged my blanket and clicked off my light. “You’ve got two guys in love with you. Both hot. And now you won’t even let me borrow one of them?”
I snorted. “Landon is in love with no one but himself. He gets so many girls he’s like a human speculum or something.”
“One, eww. Two, you’re an idiot if you can’t tell he’s all about you. Oh, and three, thanks a lot for the epic cock block.”
I settled into my pillow and stared at Ellie’s back in the dark. “It’s not like that. He’s like a brother to me.”
“Like I said, you’re an idiot.”
“Sometimes.” Especially whenever Trent Carrington was concerned. But Landon was far too much of a free spirit to ever be interested in a girl like me. Sure, he’d probably like to give me a go in the sex department, but that would ruin our friendship. He’d never tried anything, and I was glad, because I didn’t think of him that way.
“Anyway, good luck tomorrow.”
My eyes widened. “Are you going to come watch?”
“Hell no.” She made a pfft noise. “And be quiet when you leave since I want to sleep in. My first class got canceled.”
Such a bitch. “Thanks, Ellie.” I shook my head and grinned.
“You’re welcome. Now shut up. I need my beauty sleep.”
I tried to quiet my mind as Ellie drifted off and started her familiar snoring pattern. Clenching my eyes shut, I mentally counted football field yardage to try and lull myself to sleep. It was almost working until Trent flashed through my mind like lightning, leaving a discordant rumble of thunder in his wake.
I flipped onto my back and tried to force him from my mind. But he wouldn’t go. The sad tint to his voice at the restaurant still echoed inside me, and the remorse in his eyes made my mind wander back to the way his hands had felt on me. I fell asleep to the memory of his kiss.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CORDY
THE DAY BROKE COOL and sunny as I marched into the stadium. A few team members were already sitting along the sidelines in front of the heaters, while the walk-on hopefuls stretched and practiced. The grass was soft beneath my feet, and the sun hadn’t chased away the shadows on this side of the stadium yet.
“Well shit, if it isn’t my favorite princess.” Ethan rose from a bench and hustled over.
I crossed my arms over my chest and kept walking as he strode to my side. “Go away, Ethan.”
“What, a teammate can’t wish you good luck?” He leered and put an arm around my waist.
I jerked away from him. “Knock it off.”
“Don’t be such a bitch. Jeez.” Undeterred, he kept walking next to me.
“Don’t you have some puppies to kick or something?” I was already jittery enough without the wildebeest crowding me.
“You realize you’ll never make first-string, right?” He laughed, the sound hollow and forced. “If we only needed someone to make chip shots, Coach could just use me as the kicker. I can get it in from the one yard line every time just like you.”
“Why are you always such a dick?” I stopped and looked up at him, my nerves completely disintegrating what little filter I had. “Is this one of those things where you are mean to me because you want to date me or something?”
He cocked his head to the side, his thick neck like a tree trunk. “Date you? No. I want to f—”
“Cordy.” Trent walked up behind us, and I tried to ignore the relief his voice sent through me. “You ready?”
“We’re talking, rich boy. Why don’t you run along?” Ethan’s sneer somehow managed to make him even more unattractive, something I didn’t think possible.
“No, we’re done. Stay away from me.” I gave the wildebeest a too-sweet smile. “And thanks for your encouragement. It really got me fired up.”
“I’ll enjoy watching your chip shots.” He grinned. “And go ahead and do your stretches. That’s always my favorite part, princess.” Ethan turned and headed back to the warm benches.
I hurried away from Trent and toward the large heaters that would block Ethan’s line of sight to my warmups. Trent followed and dropped his ball and a tee to the ground. I wore a long-sleeved t-shirt and athletic pants, but goose bumps still broke out along my skin when he stood next to me and started stretching.
We remained silent, going through each position until I was as loose as I was going to get. I avoided his eyes the same way I’d trained myself to do for months, but my every sense was attuned to him. His steady breaths, the controlled strength in his movements, even the woodsy soap he used—all of it calmed me.
I rose to my full height and pulled my left arm across my body in unison with him. He went through each stretch with me, despite the fact he wasn’t kicking.
“Cordy.” Trent’s voice was gentle. “I know we’re not in the best place right now, and I’m hoping you’ll give me a shot at fixing it. But that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to help you, to be your holder. I’m going to watch and figure out which long kicker is the best. You’ve got this.”
I gazed out at the fifty or so hopefuls—all of them male, all of them bigger than me. “We’ll see.”
“All right!” Coach Sterling shouted through his bullhorn, the sound far too loud in the stillness of a chilly morning. “Let’s see what came out of the woodwork. First, I want every one of you who didn’t play as a kicker in high school or community college to step forward.”
Over half the kickers walked from the sideline and onto the field. “You boys go line up with Coach Carver. He’s the kicking coach who will be beating your ass on a regular basis should you make the team.”
The men did as requested. In the space of less than ten minutes, all of them were given chances to kick a chip shot. All but two missed them. Coach Carver sent those two back to the sidelines with the rest of us and dismissed the other hopefuls. Their dashed dreams didn’t make a sound, but plenty of them left the stadium with their heads down.
“Poor guys.” I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms.
“Good riddance.” Trent stood at my elbow and watched them leave with a slight quirk of his lips.
It was weird to be standing next to him as if everything were normal and I hadn’t cried about him for hours the previous night. But there was nothing else I could do. He was the quarterback. I couldn’t exactly escape him when I was at a team tryout.
Head Coach Sterling approached the remaining hopefuls. “All right. The rest of you are going to go in alphabetical order. We’ll have you kick from diff
erent yardages on each hash, one at a time. You miss too many, you’re out. Simple as that. Good luck.”
“Thomas Allen, you’re up.” He handed the bullhorn off to Coach Carver.
“Allen, line up on the right hash, ten-yard line, and show me what you got.” Coach Carver strode out onto the field, his team windbreaker pulled up close around his neck. A ball boy hurried after him, pulling a pack laden with footballs and kicking tees.
The first kicker lined up. Allen was large, easily two hundred and twenty-five pounds. He was squat, and his beefy legs flexed with each stride.
I sank down on one of the benches near the heaters, but far from Ethan. Trent stood behind me and to my left, as if to further block the wildebeest from my view.
“Hey, I made it.” Landon’s voice rose over the hum of the heaters. He plopped down beside me.
My focus was entirely on Allen. The ball boy set up the football in the holding tee and scurried away. Allen measured his backward steps, then took three large steps to the right. I winced. He’d put far too much distance between himself and the ball for a twenty-yarder.
He dropped his shoulders and ran at the ball. I held my breath. He planted his left foot almost six inches behind the ball but still managed to swing hard enough with his right to get it airborne. The ball sailed like a wounded duck and nailed the left upright with a ping before falling to the ground. No good. My breath whooshed out of me.
Landon elbowed me. “I kind of want to cheer. Is that bad?”
I nodded as Allen lined up and tried again. “Yes, very bad.”
Though Landon seemed to be pretending that Trent wasn’t there, I could still sense him. His watchful eye vacillated between me and the other kickers.
Allen’s second attempt split the uprights, but his form was still lacking. He moved to the opposite hash and tried from there. He made one out of three kicks. The rest of his performance remained mediocre at best, and I found myself critiquing everything from his stance to his follow-through. My three days with Trent taught me more than I’d thought.
