The Way Back To Me (Back To Me #1)

by Anne Mercier

  He's out banging tons of chicks—I know because he banged a chick one of our linemen had a thing with and I was the one who saved the fucker from getting any more than a black eye and some bruises. My thanks? Olivia bitching at me for not being able to stop Kellner from pounding Smith at all. I told her she was living in a fucking fantasy world if she thought for one second anyone could accomplish that.

  Then last week, I showed up with my Statistics book. I was fucking lost. Yeah, I coulda gone to Brax, but why, when Olivia is so much nicer to look at? Her personality lately—not so much.

  "What the hell do you want now?" she bites out.

  "Hi Olivia," I say saccharine sweet, just as she used to. No response so I answer for her. "Hi Cam." Nothing. "Come on in." I grin. "Thanks so much, Liv."

  She rolls her eyes and walks away. Her leggings have some funky pattern on them, but her ass… oh, bless the creator of those fucking pants.

  She heads to the kitchen and grabs a soda for herself. She takes a drink, watching me. When she swallows she raises a brow.

  "Well? What is it?" she snarks.

  I want to bark back, but I remember Brax telling me to be patient. I'm not good with patience. I'm more of a let's-get-this-shit-taken-care-of-now kinda guy.

  "I was working on Statistics and I'm fucking lost."

  She shrugs. "Find a tutor."

  Damn woman. When did she become such a hard ass? And was it me who hated the sugary sweet girl? What the fuck was I thinking?

  "I was hoping you might help me out here, Liv. This shit is due tomorrow and I can't figure it out no matter what I do," I confess—and it's no lie. This class is kicking my ass.

  "You should have asked for help sooner. You had two days already," she quips.

  I sit down in the chair next to the sofa where she's sitting. "I'm asking you, I'll beg if I have to."

  She lifts her brows in surprise.

  "Please, Olivia. Will you please help me with this bullshit stats assignment?" I ask and her lips twitch. "If I get a shit grade, I won't be able to play this weekend."

  She bites her lip and looks away, mulling it over. Her gaze slides over to me and she lets out a sigh. Bingo!

  "Which part are you having trouble with?" she asks, and I don't grin. I don't gloat. I don't do anything other than show her and ask her what the fuck. She explains what the fuck and I gotta admit, she's one smart chick. I admire that. She didn't talk to me as if I was just some dumb jock, either.

  Today is the sixth time she's helped me and she actually sat next to me on the sofa this time. I guess I'm not so appalling anymore.

  She closes my book and I sit back, twisting my neck, working out some kinks.

  "Can I ask you something?"

  She looks at me. "Not if it's disgusting."

  I chuckle. "It's nothing like that."

  She eyes me closely. "What then?"

  "What's the story with you and Smith?" I ask. I've been dying to know what the fuck is going on there for weeks now.

  Her brows pucker. "We're just friends."

  At her defensive tone, I throw up my hands in surrender.

  "I wasn't implying anything, just asking."

  "Hmm. Seb and I are friends," she repeats.

  "So you don't really get out much?"

  "Other than class and the occasional party I allow Alexa to drag me to? No," she admits.

  "Don't you want to make new friends, Liv?" I ask, and before she can bite my head off, I hold up a hand. "Not to replace the ones you lost, but to spend time with at college. All this loner shit is depressing."

  She snorts. "This 'loner shit' is the way I like it."

  "You need to get out more. What happens when some guy asks you out on a date?" I prod.

  "No one is going to ask me on a date and if they did, I'd say no."

  "Huh," is all I say, knowing her curiosity will get the better of her.

  "What?"

  I shrug. "Nothing, really."

  She sighs. "What?"

  "Don't get pissed, okay? I'm just wondering, okay? Not judging."

  She nods.

  "There's going to come a day when you want to say yes, and what will you do then?"

  "I won't—"

  I cut her off. "Humor me."

  She looks at me blankly. "I have no idea."

  I nod. "That's what I thought."

  "Oh God. I've never had to think about dating anyone new. I had Danny," she mutters, her eyes downcast.

  "I've got an idea."

  She gives me the evils and I chuckle.

  "Nothing perverted."

  More skeptical looks. Smart girl.

  "Since you've been helping me out so much with this bullshit class that's giving me rage issues, how about I help you out with dating," I suggest.

  "I'm not dating you," she tells me without hesitation.

  Well, fuck. "That's not what I'm suggesting." Lie.

  "What are you suggesting?"

  "How about you and I go out on simulated dates where you get to see what dating is like now, here… at college?" I ask. I wait when I'm met with silence.

  Her gaze meets mine and she's clearly uneasy. "I don't know… I don't even like you and I haven't forgotten what an asshole you were to me."

  I'm just gonna skip over that last part. "Look, I'm just offering to help you get a feel for dating life as a college student. It's no biggie, if you're not up for it…" I tell her, challenging her.

  She sighs. "I think I should. I mean, I kinda want to, but I don't know…"

  I let her work it through and just wait. Damn, look at me getting good at that shit.

  "Maybe I should try this with Sebastian," she hedges. Shit.

  "You could, but would you really want to?" I ask, planting the seed of doubt.

  "Why wouldn't I?"

  "Well, he's got quite a few lady friends and a bit of a reputation."

  "So what? So do you."

  I chuckle. "One day you're going to have to tell me what rumors are going around about me. I, currently, don’t have anyone I'm seeing and my reputation isn't anywhere near Sebastian's."

  "You think if he and I did the fake date thing, it would affect his social status?"

  I nod. "Yeah, but more importantly it could potentially affect your reputation."

  "It hasn't so far," she defends.

  "You haven't gone out on any dates so far—real or fake," I return.

  "Hmm. I guess." Her eyes slide to mine. "No funny stuff?"

  "Nope."

  "Promise?" she asks, and knowing she trusts me to tell the truth, it's a step in the right direction.

  "I promise. Cross my heart," I tell her.

  "I can't believe I'm agreeing to this," she announces, leaning back against the sofa, looking at the ceiling.

  "It's not a big deal. Just two people sharing a meal or a movie or a party, and since we don't really know each other that well, it should be almost like a real date," I prompt.

  "That's true. All I really know about you is you're a bully, asshole, prick, manwhore, and a wide receiver."

  "Wow, that's quite a list of nouns you've got going on there."

  "Are they nouns? I have no idea, I thought they were adjectives."

  "I was just making shit up. I wouldn't know a noun from a verb," I confess.

  "You're so weird."

  I shrug and put my books in my bag. I walk to the door and just before I leave, I leave her with it. "I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven. Be ready for a casual date."

  "But—" she starts to protest just as I close the door behind me. I hear her muttering behind the door and I can't stop the smile that pulls at my cheeks.

  I got her to agree. Now all I need to do is not fuck it up.

  ***

  "Yo, fuckwad, I need to talk to you. Now," Smith tells me, grabbing the back of my jersey and instantly pissing me off.

  "You might want to get your fucking hands off me before I remove them," I warn. I expected him to come to me once Olivia to
ld him. I didn't expect the fucker to lose his mind.

  He lets go and I straighten my shirt, leading him away from the guys from the team I'd been talking to. He's all worked up—his face flushed, the tips of his ears red.

  "What the fuck are you trying to pull, Stone?" he seethes.

  I bristle. Of course I do. Who is this guy to question me? "You might want to check your tone."

  He laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah, I don't think so. You're pulling some shit with Liv and I'm not going to allow it."

  I raise a brow and fold my arms across my chest. "You're not going to allow it? I don't think that decision is yours to make."

  "Maybe not, but I'm going to protect her. She's sweet and she's been through too much to go through whatever you've got planned. Why are you targeting her?" he asks.

  "I'm not targeting anyone. I offered to help her, Smith."

  "By taking her out on dates," he mocks.

  I nod. "Simulated dates to help her get used to going out with guys."

  Smith laughs. "And you're just the guy to break her in, huh?"

  I narrow my eyes, my anger kicking up a notch at that. He's only going to get so much leeway with his protectiveness of Olivia—and jealousy.

  "You know as well as I do, it's not like that." He just glares. "Look. I fucked up with her, all right? I admit it. But I can't stand her being like this."

  "Like what?"

  "Broken."

  Smith deflates a bit at that.

  "She used to be this girl who was always upbeat and, god help me, perky. So nice your teeth ached and everyone loved her."

  Sebastian just looks at me, clearly processing what I'm telling him. Good. Maybe he'll get on board.

  "She told me what happened."

  I give him a questioning look.

  "About the accident. Losing her friends and Danny."

  I nod, not too surprised but pretty sure she didn't tell him the depth of it all.

  "This Olivia, the one you see now, is not the one I remember. I recognize pieces of her sometimes, but mostly this one is dark and haunted. I just want to try to help her find her way back," I admit.

  Smith scrubs a hand over his face then tips his head back, looking at the ceiling. "You know, that girl may not exist anymore, and even if she did, maybe Liv doesn't want to go back to her. Maybe it's too hard for her to."

  "I've thought of that and I don't want her to be that girl if it's not what she wants, but this version of her… she's so much more than this. Even if a few pieces merge in with this Olivia, it'll bring back some of the spirit she's missing now." I can't find the right words. I unfold my arms and hold out my left hand. "This is Olivia now—imagine black, darkness." I hold out my right hand. "This is Olivia then—imagine pink, happiness." I slowly bring my hands closer and then intertwine my fingers. "Maybe in the end there'll be a mesh of black and pink, a blending of the two. She shouldn't be one or the other. There's always been more depth to her than pink and she's a hell of a lot better than black."

  Sebastian eyes me.

  "I'm not trying to get in her pants, man."

  He laughs, humorlessly. "No, you've already been there."

  My hands form into fists and I grab him by the front of his jacket. "You better watch what you say. Olivia deserves a hell of a lot more respect than that and you fucking know it."

  He shrugs off my hands. "God damn it! I know it. I do."

  "Then what the fuck is your problem?" I ask, clearly not understanding his issue.

  He leans back against a wall, lighting a cigarette. When he blows the smoke out, his gaze meets mine. "I just wish I'd thought of it first."

  I smirk. "You're too busy prowling, man."

  "You used to be, too," he reminds me.

  I nod. "I'm focusing on my game this year. Scouts come around for the upper classmen and maybe I'll catch an extra look even as a sophomore."

  Smith nods.

  "Coach sees you smoking, he's going to kick your ass," I tell Sebastian. He's the starting forward on the basketball team.

  "Yeah, I only smoke when I'm stressed and that's a lot lately."

  I grunt, knowing exactly what he means.

  "Olivia Brennan is a complex chick," he announces and I snort.

  "That's the fuckin' truth." I look at him, really look and I see it. Just a hint, but it's there. "Smith, don't do it."

  He lifts a brow as he squeezes the cherry off his cigarette butt then extinguishing it with his boot before tossing the butt in the trash.

  "You know what I'm talking about. Don't go falling in love with her, man. It's an impossible situation," I warn. Fuck knows when—if she'll ever be ready to love someone besides Danny, even if he's gone.

  He grins. "You might want to take your own advice, Stone."

  I chuckle. "No need. She and I can barely be in the same room without her wanting to claw my face to shreds."

  He doesn't respond and I feel cornered.

  "She's got too much baggage and is too damn frustrating for that to ever happen to me, man," I tell him.

  He stands up straight. "Yeah, the thing about those types of chicks, Stoney—those are the ones that snag your heart when you least expect it."

  "Not gonna happen. Haven't you heard? My heart's made of stone. Isn't that the rumor?"

  He nods. "We'll see." Stepping forward, toe-to-toe with me. "You fuck her up, I'll find you."

  More threats. I just shake my head as he walks away. I'm not out to hurt Liv. I'm not out to get in her pants or even thinking about love. Where the fuck did that conversation come from? Smith thinking about himself falling for her is likely where.

  I head back toward the guys standing in front of the frat house, my body aching from practice. I don't think I'll ever get used to taking hits like the ones our defensive line deliver. They bring on some serious pain—pain that pads can't even stand up against.

  That's why we're number one.

  Brax nudges me with his elbow. "Don't you have a date to get ready for?"

  I look at my watch. "Fuck. Yeah, I do."

  "Get the fuck out of here," Dekker says. "Stoney's got a date?"

  I roll my eyes. "Fuck off, it's not like that."

  "Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say and before you know it you're coupled up, sharing pillows, and looking at rings," he teases.

  I see Brit out of the corner of my eye and she's watching me and listening. Hell.

  "No fucking way. I don't do relationships."

  "Tsk, tsk," Dekker taunts. "Never say never. Even the best of us fall, brother."

  "You first," I tell him and head inside to get ready.

  Fuck love. Fuck relationships. Fuck all of that bullshit.

  CHAPTER 9

  "If it scares you, it might be a good thing to try."

  - Seth Godin

  Olivia

  "This was a bad idea," I tell Alexa for the one-millionth time.

  She rolls her eyes at me for the one-millionth time. "You're just nervous."

  "Of course I'm nervous. I'm human. And I'm going out with the manwhore bully wide receiver also known as your brother. Why did I agree to this?" I wonder aloud again, earning me another eyeroll. I blow out a breath as Alexa adds a little eye shadow. She already vetoed my outfit and told me in no uncertain terms there was no way in hell she was letting me go out on a date looking like plain Jane.

  "Sit still," she scolds. "I'm almost done."

  "You told me that ten minutes ago."

  "Well, I am—this time. Besides, I didn't do much. Just put on some powder and bronzer, a little eye shadow, and now just a little more mascara and you're done."

  "I can do the mascara myself. I don't need you poking me in the eye before your brother shows me the road paved to hell," I joke—sort of. I apply the mascara—under Alexa's watchful eye.

  "He's really not that bad," she placates.

  I snort and close the mascara. "According to who?"

  "Me."

  "You're his sister. You don't count,"
I tell her with an eyeroll of my own.

  "I do so count. Besides, if he was really that bad, he wouldn't be offering to help you get back on the horse," she informs me.

  I shrug as we walk into my room, my Prospect Warriors sweatshirt and fuck-off leggings lying on my bed. I thought it was a good combination. Alexa, not so much.

  "Now let's find you a real outfit." She gives me a sidelong glance.

  Whatever. "I don't think Cam would have minded."

  "He wouldn't and do you know why he wouldn't?"

  "Uh…" I'm not sure I want the answer.

  "Because he's used to you telling him to fuck off. But..."

  I hate those 'buts'.

  "Any other guy wouldn't be used to that nor should they have to be, and since this is a simulated date, you want it to be as close to real as possible, right?" she prompts, handing me a pair of jeans and my black cardigan with faux-pearl buttons.

  "Right. I do." Right?

  "Then, put this on," she adds, handing me a short-sleeved gray and pink top to go with the sweater.

  I eye the top closely and give Alexa a look. She blinks back. "I may have bought you a few things that were less… black."

  "What's wrong with the black?" I ask, buttoning my jeans.

  "Nothing's wrong with black—in moderation. You wear black on top of black on top of black. It's all a bit much."

  "Hmm. My sweatshirt was blue," I remind her.

  "Right, and it didn't match your leggings at all—your fuck-off leggings I might remind you."

  "No need to remind me. They're lying right there," I tell her, pointing.

  "I haven't ever seen you wear them in public—ever, so wearing them when you go out on this date is a defense mechanism," she informs me.

  I open my mouth only for her to cut me off.

  "You don't need to be defensive on this date. It's Cam."

  "Exactly!" I reply.

  She rolls her eyes—again. "It was his idea. He won't do anything to screw this up."

  This time it's me who gives her a look and she shrugs.

  "We can hope."

  "Right," I say under my breath. She hands me my shoes just as there's a knock on the door. Oh boy.

  He's here. Cameron Stone. Why am I nervous? He's just a guy… an asshole. It's a fake date, one likely done out of pity. I'm sure that's what this whole thing is about. Pity. He thinks I'm pathetic, that no one will want to go out with me if he doesn't show me how to entertain my date, how to carry on a conversation and keep my darkness at bay.