by J Santiago
“Want to tell me what happened on signing day?” she countered.
He sighed. “Sunshine, why do you have to make everything so complicated?” he asked.
“What’s complicated? You go; I go.”
“That’s not the way it works.”
“Well,” she said, “I’m a one-for-one kind of girl. You give me something; I give you something. That’s the only way it works.”
She frustrated him. There were so many other places he could be right now, getting whatever he wanted for free, none of this exchanging shit.
Running his hand over his sheared head, he sighed heavily. “You’re a shit-ton of work,” he said.
She laughed. “That’s where you’re wrong, Tank. You don’t have to work for me.” She suddenly pulled off the sheets and got to her knees.
He watched uneasily as she pulled her shirt over her head, putting her breasts on display for him.
Moving toward him, she whispered, “You don’t have to work at all for this, Tank.” She picked up his hand from his lap and placed it on her breast. Grabbing his thumb and forefinger, she showed him what she wanted him to do.
He watched her as her breath caught, and her head lolled back.
“You get all this,” she whispered. “All you have to do is make me forget.”
He couldn’t believe he was hesitating. His hand dropped, and she quickly glared at him. He didn’t mind trying to make her forget; his body certainly didn’t mind the request. He couldn’t blame his delicate sensibilities or strict moral code because that hadn’t reared its head in an amazingly long time. But—and here was where he stumbled—he didn’t want to be just that to her. He wanted to know what he was making her forget. He wanted to see past all those dark shadows in her eyes and under the scars that told stories. He sighed at the inevitability of it all.
He watched her angrily grab her shirt, pull it over her head, and throw herself back on the bed, but this time, she put her back to him.
From out of nowhere, he laughed as he observed her temper tantrum. “Let me take a guess here. No one ever said no to you when you were a little girl. Because you definitely have the tantrum down to a science.”
“Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you.”
Again, he laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was absolutely adorable in her huff.
Lying down on the bed but careful not to touch her, Tank pissed her off even more by saying, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Look, I don’t want you here.”
“You can’t always get what you want,” he murmured.
“Don’t pull that Rolling Stones shit on me,” she countered.
That made him laugh again. And, just to annoy her, he started singing the song. He made it through the first verse before stopping to flash her a dimpled smile.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” she said, her tone a mix of wonder and annoyance.
“What?” he asked.
“God graced you with a voice, too? How unfair is that?”
Then, she genuinely smiled at him. It was a first. He felt the breath leave his lungs, like he’d just sustained a hit from a defensive lineman and lost fifteen yards. He tried to gather his wits, to gain some footing, but it felt like a useless struggle. Before he could even think about what he was doing, he rolled over her, trapping her beneath him, shoving his body between her legs. He grabbed her arms and lightly pinned them above her head. They stared at each other, both suddenly breathless.
“Remember this,” he murmured.
He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, one he wanted her to take with her to shield her from some of the pain. It went on for what seemed like hours, this one kiss. It was a make-out session like he hadn’t had since he was fifteen. When he ended it, he rested his forehead against hers and worked to slow his breathing. He wanted inside her now, too, just like the night before, but he wanted her to be begging for him, not for oblivion.
“Tank,” she panted, “please.”
He lifted his head and looked down into her brown eyes, which were liquid and dazed. “It can’t be about forgetting,” he said.
She pulled her hands from his, reached up, and put them on either side of his face. “I got that.”
He slowly shook his head and rolled over, disengaging from her touch. “You don’t yet,” he murmured.
He rested on the pillow next to her before reaching over and pulling her onto his chest, settling her against him. She squirmed before she relaxed.
“But you will,” he said.
Thirteen
Amber found Keira at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. Heading to the cabinet, she grabbed a cup and sat down heavily in the chair across from her.
“What did I miss Saturday night?” Keira said.
Amber looked up from her coffee and met her friend’s questioning gaze. “Sorry?” she said, confused.
“Tank Howard seemed awfully concerned about you last night. Did you fuck him at that party?” Keira asked bluntly.
“What? No!” Amber sheepishly looked away. “Not that I wouldn’t have, but he stopped.”
“Seriously?”
“For real.”
“So, what’s going on with you two?”
“I have no idea.”
“Interesting,” Keira remarked.
Amber didn’t even know where to start, so she said nothing. Keira toyed with her coffee cup, and Amber braced herself for what was coming.
“I feel like I waved a red flag in front of a raging bull,” her friend said.
Amber took a deep breath. “You mean, when you told me to stay away from Tank?”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. Look, you know I love you deeply. But you have a whole bunch of shit going on. And he’s about to be a star. This is not about anything other than you getting yourself together before you entangle yourself in a relationship that…is going to end.”
She saw Keira tense for a fight, but Amber just didn’t have it in her. “I know.”
“Huh?”
“I know. I get it. I don’t disagree. I don’t want to be in this place with him. Because he seems to be one of the good guys. And I’m not.”
“What happened last night?”
Amber owed it to Keira to tell her, but she was so used to hiding everything that she hesitated. If she laid it out there, what would happen?
“Forget it,” Keira said, frustrated.
“No! I just need a second.” She sat back in her chair. Then, she shifted forward. Then, she stood, trying to find a comfortable position for her body since her brain was all out of sorts. Something clicked, and she turned to head toward the bedroom.
Keira, the saint that she could be every once in a while, stayed, waiting patiently at the table.
Amber handed her phone to Keira. “Google Tank Howard and girls.”
Keira smirked. “Really?”
Amber nodded her head, smirking back. “Seriously.”
Keira messed with the phone, and Amber knew the exact minute she saw the picture.
“Holy hell!” Keira murmured.
“Yeah. So, Franco and me had it out last night. It was ugly. He was angry, rightfully so. Imagine seeing that picture of your daughter with a kid you love like a son. I can’t even begin to know what must be going through his mind. But then take that and add it to my past, and I’m my father’s worst nightmare.”
Keira continued to scroll through the pictures. “Have you seen the other pictures of Tank?”
“With all the others?” she asked.
“How many are there?”
“I’m not sure. My dad made some reference to Tank having sex with a different girl every night since the Georgia game.”
She saw the look of horror on Keira’s face.
“Uh, do you want to see?”
“I don’t think so,” Amber answered.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
Rolling her eyes, she sat at the table. “Because he’s had sex
? No. I’m sure all of his practice will pay off,” she said, deadpan.
Keira merely rolled her eyes, knowing Amber liked to shock her.
“Seriously, Amber, what are you doing?”
Amber shrugged. “I’m not trying to do anything. I’ve been attracted to him since he swept me up off the floor that night, but I’ve truly tried to stay away from him. I mean, do I really need a repeat?”
“Well, I don’t think Tank and Rowdy are in the same stratosphere. Tank’s always impressed me as a good dude. And he was genuinely concerned about you last night. So, I’m not sure repeat is the correct term.”
“Maybe not. But you get it, right? If I get entangled with Tank Howard, and for some reason it comes out, it would be bad.”
“Yes, I get that. That’s why I told you to stay away from him,” Keira said, trying not to infuse the statement with the I-told-you-so tone.
“Yeah, yeah,” Amber said, waving her off, “the red flag. The thing is, this conversation could be a complete waste of time. For all we know, Tank’s done with me. He certainly doesn’t have the reputation for being a girlfriend kinda guy.”
“Point taken. Then, go back and tell me what happened with Franco,” Keira said like she were asking about the weather.
Amber knew this was a big moment for their friendship. It was her second chance. Keira had tried really hard to be there for her with Rowdy, but Amber had frozen her out, much like everyone else. Amber hadn’t wanted to let Franco back in because it was too much. But maybe, with Keira, she could take the first step.
Taking a deep breath, Amber laid it all out there, even the last part—the part where she’d falsely told her father that she had sex with Tank against a wall, outside, at a party.
Keira sat, listening, but when Amber dropped that on her, she couldn’t help but react. “Oh, Amber, what were you thinking?” Keira asked, shaking her head.
“I wasn’t. All the accusations he threw at me were things I’d been thinking, ya know? Am I a glorified cleat-chaser? How much fun have I made of those simpering girls my whole life? God, Keira, what if that’s true?” For all of Amber’s bravado, laying her insecurities on the table in front of her oldest friend was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. “And then, even more horrifying, what if this thing with Tank is just to fuck with Franco?”
“Amber, one of the worst things that came out of your disaster in Oxford is your belief that you aren’t a good person. You have blamed yourself for everything that happened. And I know you don’t want to listen to me letting you off the hook. But I don’t think your relationships have anything to do with you being a cleat-chaser. I never have. Look, you and Jake, you were high school sweethearts, long before he became good at football. So, he doesn’t even count in the equation. I don’t know enough about your relationship with Rowdy, but I know you.”
When Amber started to interject, Keira held up her hand.
“I do know you. You are not a horrible person who wants to be with a superstar just because of what it could get you. I don’t know what happened leading up to the accident, but even knowing only bits and pieces, I know that you were the victim there. Not Rowdy Daniels. My objection to Tank wasn’t really about who he was or his status. My objection has everything to do with you. You’re all banged up and battered. I just don’t know that you can give yourself over to a new relationship without forgiving yourself for what happened with Rowdy.”
Not ready to travel down the road Keira wanted her to, Amber stood abruptly. Making a show of glancing at her watch, she gave herself an out. “I have rehab at ten.”
But Keira knew her too well to buy the sudden departure. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Amber,” she said, shaking her head. “Should I expect you back here tonight?”
“Yeah, if that’s okay,” she said as she moved toward the room, needing the distance.
“Sure. I’ve got plenty of sand.”
Amber stopped and looked at her questioningly.
“Ya know, for you to bury your head in.”
“Clever,” Amber replied as she turned away, hiding her smile. “Really fucking clever.”
Between class, weights, practice, tutoring, and a trip to the training room, Tank spent the majority of his day moving from one activity to the next without much room for deviation. Although he’d been distracted by thoughts of Amber throughout the day, the moment he stepped onto the field, his focus sharpened. That invincibility returned with a vengeance, and he could see it permeating the team. Every player was on point.
He left the field, pumped up, the adrenaline freely flowing through his body.
As he came out of the locker room, freshly showered, he was surprised to find Cy waiting for him.
“Hey, Tank. Great practice.”
“Thanks, Cy. What’s up?”
“You have a couple of minutes? I’d like to show you something.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Coach is waiting for us.”
Tank wasn’t surprised by this statement. He’d wanted to stop by and talk to Franco today, but he hadn’t had the time. This gave him the opportunity to do that.
He and Cy made their way to Franco’s office.
“You’re moving up the Heisman watch list. After last weekend, people are noticing.”
Tank merely shrugged. They quickly found themselves in Franco’s office.
“Hey, Coach. The team looked good today,” Tank observed, still amped from their practice.
“Yeah, it was a good day.”
Where Franco’s excitement would usually match his, Tank noticed that he seemed off.
“Good? Were you watching what I was watching?”
Again, Franco played it off, not giving Tank the endorsement he was looking for. It took Tank a moment to remember the last time he’d talked to Franco and the little shit attitude he’d given his coach. So much had happened in the forty-eight hours since that he’d forgotten his anger over the ambush and moved on. Apparently, Franco hadn’t. He’d fix that as soon as Cy had his say.
There was a brief knock before the door opened, and Miss Magee walked in. Tank was a little confused as to why the compliance lady was present. He looked over at Franco and noticed his eyes widened before he quickly masked his surprise.
“Sorry,” Miss Magee said. “Cy asked me to come.”
Franco seemed to take exception to that. “What the fuck’s going on, Cy?”
Tank, Miss Magee, and Cy all looked at Franco with shock. Franco could throw it down on the field, but he had a thing about being respectful. He would cuss every once in a while, but for the most part, you could tell when he was pissed by the tone of his voice and the fierce look on his face. He normally wouldn’t have to cuss to make a point. The fact that he’d just dropped the F-bomb—in front of a woman, no less—made Tank a little leery.
“Uh, Tank,” Cy said, recovering first, “you know we’ve been monitoring any social media sites that have your name in them and one keeps posting pictures of you”—he paused to look at Tank—“with various women.”
Tank was surprised. “What do you mean?” was all he could think to say.
“Someone’s been taking pictures of you. I thought they were coming from one of your real accounts, but I think someone actually set one up in your name.”
Tank felt like someone had taken a pin and popped his balloon of invincibility.
“Coach, can I pull it up on your computer?” Cy asked.
Tank wasn’t sure he wanted to see what was out there. He did a quick inventory of what his life had been like over the last couple of weeks and actually broke into a sweat. Most of what he’d done was in private, he thought, except for Saturday night…with Amber. He felt his body slink lower in the chair as he waited for Cy to pull up the site and motion for them to come look. Getting up, Tank walked slowly around the desk and looked over Cy’s shoulder.
The site that greeted him wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. It was all images of him with different gi
rls. But the pictures weren’t horribly telling. He could tell that he was either getting or about to get some action with every girl pictured, but there were no naked or embarrassing photos. He knew it didn’t bode well for his character, but it could have been a lot worse. He could hear their chatter around him, but he hadn’t focused in on anything they’d been saying.
“If not for that last picture, it’s not that horrible, Cy,” Miss Magee said matter-of-factly.
Tank heard her words and looked for the picture she was concerned about. His whole body tensed when he saw it. He and Amber were all wrapped around each other, and from the looks on their faces, it seemed like they were having sex. He knew they weren’t, but the picture was certainly incriminating. He heard Franco take a deep breath and watched him walk to the other side of his office.
“Yeah”—Tank winced—“that picture doesn’t look very…wholesome.”
“Wholesome!” Franco roared. “It looks like you are fucking that girl.”
Tank didn’t know what to do. He understood Franco’s anger, but he’d never, ever seen his coach so worked up. “Coach, we weren’t having sex.”
“How many times have I told you that it’s about perception? It only takes one girl to ruin your career. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Tank’s confusion rocketed up a notch. Cy and Miss Magee appeared to want to crawl under Franco’s desk, and Tank might have joined them if they tried to make a run for it.
“Look, Coach, it’s over. I’m done.” He needed to explain to Franco that he wasn’t going to be with any other girls right now, that he had this one girl he intended to—had to figure out. He wanted Franco to know that he’d met someone, but the forum wasn’t appropriate, and he didn’t want to lay his soul out for everyone. Just his coach.
“What’s over?” Franco barked.
Tank looked at Franco, tried to meet his eyes and signal that he didn’t want to talk about this with an audience. But Franco was relentless.
“How do you think those girls feel? What about their parents? You think they want to see their daughters plastered all over the Internet?”
