“I don’t know yet.” I open the water bottle and take a sip.
“Does he know you love the movies?”
“I didn’t tell him that, so unless you mentioned it, no.”
“Hm.” Mav keeps staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He blinks rapidly and looks away. “Have fun on your date.”
“I will. What are you guys up to tonight?”
“No good,” Colson says.
“So, the usual?”
Colson smiles. Maverick is on his phone now, not paying attention. I signal a peace sign and walk out of the kitchen with my water and my feelings. If they’re planning on their usual Friday night that means they’ll go to a bar, pick a fight, pick up some girls, and bring them back to the house. If I’m lucky, I’ll be passed out by the time they start screwing them and if I’m really lucky I won’t be here in the morning to deal with the walks of shame, but I have the worst luck when it comes to that so I’m not holding my breath.
Chapter Eleven
“This is good,” Brian says to the waitress as she sits us in a booth near the windows.
“This is nice.” I smile as I look around. It’s probably the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever been to while I’ve been here. Not that I’ve been to many regular restaurants at all while I’ve been here. Or dates for that matter.
“I’m glad you like it. I hear the lasagna is great.”
“I guess we’ll find out.”
Brian smiles. “Do you drink wine?”
“Not particularly, but I’ll have some if you’re having some.”
“I was thinking we could order a bottle.” He looks at the wine list.
“That’s very . . . grown-up. I’m down to share a bottle.”
“It does feel very grown-up, doesn’t it?” He chuckles. “My mom likes dry red wines, so she kind of put me onto those.”
“That’s cute, so you drink wine with your mom?”
“When I’m home I do.” He glances up at me. “She was the one who told me about this place. UNC is my parents’ alma matter, so they drive over whenever there’s a big game.”
“Drive over from where?”
“Wilmington.”
“Is that home for you then?”
“Yep.” He smiles wide. “I’m a Carolina boy through and through.”
“I can see that.” I smile back. “What do your parents do?”
“They’re both chiropractors and have their own practice.”
“That’s very cool. My parents are nurses.”
“That’s awesome. I guess our parents chose careers that’ll never go out of business.”
“Yep. What are you planning on doing after you graduate?”
“Become a chiropractor.” Brian chuckles. “I have four more years of school ahead of me. What about you?”
“I’m going to play in the National Women’s Soccer League.”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow and looks at the waitress when she comes by to ask for our drink order. He orders wine for us and we put in our food order since we both know we’re getting the lasagna. When she walks away, he looks at me again. “So, professional soccer.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. I figure if it doesn’t work out for me, I can always go to nursing school and follow in my parents’ footsteps, but I won’t be able to try out for teams in ten years.”
“I’m sure you would be able to.” He frowns.
“I mean, sure, you have Pearce and Formiga who both competed in their forties, but it’s not the same. You play hockey, you know how it is. You give your life to a sport and your body starts to slow down at some point.”
“You make a good point.”
We continue talking about our plans for the future and find that we have a lot in common. After dinner, I’m feeling full, a little buzzed, and grateful when Brian pays for dinner, so when he asks me if I want to keep the night going and go to a bar where his friends are hanging out, I immediately agree. The bar is only a block down from the restaurant, on Franklin Street, so we decide to walk over there, pushing through the now crowded sidewalks. When we get to the bar, we hand over our IDs for the bouncer to check and Brian makes small talk with him as we walk inside.
“I take it you come here often,” I say over the loud music.
“Every weekend.” He smiles, nodding toward the back of the bar. “The guys are over there. Can I get you anything?”
“Just water.”
“Water?” He blinks at me. “On a Friday night?”
“I have to be up early for training, so yeah.” I smile sheepishly.
“Ah, I didn’t know you had practice tomorrow. We could’ve rescheduled this for tomorrow night.”
“No biggie. I kind of train every morning, so it wouldn’t have mattered.”
“Seven days a week?” He gawks at me. “I guess this is why you’re going pro and I’m not.”
I laugh as we reach the bar and he leans against it. I look over at the group of guys he pointed at earlier and notice they’ve taken over two booths and the standing room near the bar. That’s when I spot Maverick and my stomach does a little flip. He hasn’t seen me. He can’t, with the way his tongue is down the girl on his lap’s throat. I don’t miss the way his hand grazes over her chest, or the way she has a knee pressed up against his jeans, where he’s surely hiding a hard-on. The scene does something to me. I’m suddenly hot and cold at the same time. Angry and turned on. This is my best friend, for goodness’ sake. I really don’t want to feel this way around him or about him. I excuse myself and head straight to the back of the bar, in search of a bathroom. Once inside, I shut myself in a stall and press my back against the door, closing my eyes, willing my body to stop reacting to what I saw out there. Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should call it a night right this second, call Leyla or Ashley or Rea, or any one of my teammates to ask them if they’d let me crash at their place. I decide to go that route and take out my phone to text Leyla and Ashley first. They’re roommates, so surely one of them will answer quickly.
Once that’s settled, I exit the bathroom and rejoin Brian. He smiles when he sees me, then stops smiling when he takes a good look at my face.
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t feel so well,” I say quietly in his ear.
It’s not a total lie. I don’t feel well being here. I chance a glance in Maverick’s direction and see that even though he’s still firmly grabbing onto the girl’s ass, he’s no longer making out with her. With the way he’s looking at her, like she’s the only person worthy of his attention, it doesn’t matter. My heart feels like it’s being stabbed repeatedly at the sight of it either way.
“You want me to take you home?”
“No, it’s okay. You should stay. You just got a drink and your friends are here.”
“You sure?” His brows pull together slightly and I can tell if I ask him to accompany me, he would.
“Positive.” I plaster the biggest smile on my face.
After a quick hug, I leave the bar and step into the Uber waiting for me outside. I could walk the few blocks home, but I’d never hear the end of it, not from my parents or Maverick. The driver and I small talk during the four minutes it takes for her to drop me off at the front of my house. I was going to Ashley and Layla’s, but changed my mind at the last minute. Once inside, I shut the door and take a breather. It’s quiet in here, the way it often is on weekends. I’m pulling my pajamas over my head when I hear my phone buzz and walk over to see a text from Mav.
Mav: Where are you?
I frown, and shoot back, Home. Why?
Mav: I just saw Brian and he said you left. Why didn’t you let him take you home? Did you walk?
Me: I Ubered. I was fine.
Mav: You should’ve told me. I would’ve gone with you.
I sigh heavily and plop down on the bed as I type, You were busy.
Mav: ???
Me: You had your tongue down that girl�
�s throat.
I see the three dots appear, disappear, and appear again as he types out a response. I’m not sure why I’m so invested in this conversation, to begin with, considering he’s obviously still at the bar and that girl is probably still sitting on his lap.
Mav: You still should’ve told me. I would’ve gone with you.
I stare at his response. I know Maverick better than anyone. I know he would have brought me home if I’d asked or told him, but what was I supposed to say? I was upset and turned on because of him and that was the reason I bailed on my date? I seriously need to get over him ASAP. Instead of responding, I set my phone on airplane mode, lock my door, and go to sleep.
Chapter Twelve
I kick the ball into the goal, take a breath, and run back to the first cone I set up. It’s part of my Saturday morning drill. While some of my teammates are still sleeping their hangovers away, I’m out here practicing. Sometimes some of them join me, but today it’s just me out here by myself, and I prefer it this way, with my rap music blasting in my ears as I concentrate on nothing else except dodging my invisible opponents, which I set up as cones for the time being, and kicking that ball into the goal. I’m on my third cone when I spot Maverick walking down the field over to me. Sometimes he joins as well. Not often though, especially not during the season when he’d rather be on the ice than out here. I don’t pause on the fourth cone or the fifth; I concentrate until I get to the last cone and then I kick. Breathing heavily, I pull an AirPod out of my right ear, pausing the Drake music that was just playing, and dribble the ball back up the field as I look over at Maverick who’s now standing between me and the first cone. I know he’s going to try to block me if I go right before he even makes the move. It’s his go-to—to go right instead of left. He always assumes his opponent will go that way to try to fake him out.
“I’m surprised you’re not sleeping.” I ease past him with the ball still at my feet and stop when I get to the cone.
“I hate when you get past me,” he says.
“Try harder and stop making the same move over and over.” I shrug a shoulder. He frowns.
“I don’t always make that move. Sometimes I go left.”
“How often would you say you go left?” I bring an arm up to wipe the sweat off my face. “I feel like we have this conversation every time.”
He shakes his head, still frowning, and meets my eyes. “You locked your door.”
“I’m surprised you came to my room at all.” I fight the blush. Thankfully, I’m already hot and sweating out here so it’s not like he’d know the difference.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Hm. Even after Rebecca from chemistry left?”
“I didn’t bring Rebecca home.”
“Right. She’s the one you’re holding out for.”
We used to talk about this so easily, and now it makes me uncomfortable. I hate it. He’s been talking about this girl for a year now and saying how she’s his dream girl, perfection, the one he’s going to get serious about as soon as he stops messing around, because that’s what he’s doing right now, getting all of this out of his system so when he settles down with Rebecca it’ll be for good.
“I kissed her last night.” He moves forward and snaps the ball from where it is in front of me and sets a foot over it so that it stays put until he’s ready to go.
“I saw, remember?”
“Right.” He smiles, not fully, but enough that I know he’s remembering whatever transpired last night.
“So why are you here? Why didn’t you take her home?”
“I don’t know.” He exhales. “It’s like I’m lost on what to do, you know? It’s easy to just hook up with girls but getting serious with one is another ball game. I asked her out on a date and now I don’t even know how to act.”
“Hm.” My heart slams against my chest. I swallow down the uneasiness and look away, my gaze on the rustling leaves of the trees a few feet away. “You’re interrupting my practice.”
“I thought you were going to teach me the rules of engagement or whatever. I have to get this right.”
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate anything you do.”
“Should I get her flowers?”
I sigh heavily, jog forward, and kick the ball from underneath his foot. He recovers quickly, getting it back and dribbling it up the field as I run beside him. He slows down for my benefit. If he really wanted, he’d already be at the goal scoring, but that’s not what Mav comes here for. He enjoys the hustle, he’s patient and persistent. It’s what makes him a great striker in his own sport. We run drills like this until we’re both drenched in sweat and decide we need a break. Then, we lie on the grass to catch our breath.
“It feels good out today,” he says.
“It does. I was afraid it might rain.” I roll my head to look at him. “So, when’s the date with Rebecca?”
“Tonight.”
“Damn. Okay.” I swallow. I need to stop with the foolishness of letting this make me jealous and be happy for him. “So, flowers. Definitely not red roses.”
“Why not?” He chuckles. “Don’t red roses mean love?”
“Exactly. Are you in love with her?”
“Well, no.” He frowns slightly. “I don’t think anyone who gives red roses on the first date is necessarily in love.”
“Well, then, they shouldn’t give red roses.” I look back up at the sky. “Maybe something fun and bright. She’s all bubbly and shit. She’d love something bright.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.” He laughs.
“It’s not. I just can’t relate to always being that happy.”
“She’s nice, right? You like her.”
“I’m not the one taking her on a date.” I look over at him again. “I don’t have to like her.”
“You’re my best friend. You know I’m not going to settle down with someone you don’t like.”
I tear my gaze away again, trying to rein in the emotions clawing at my chest.
“What’s next on the list of things to do?”
“Open the door for her.” I close my eyes as I speak. “Hold her hand if it feels right.”
“Did Brian hold your hand last night?”
I let out a laugh. “He did not. I think he tried and I kind of ruined it by reaching for my phone like an idiot.”
“You weren’t feeling it.”
“I didn’t say that.” I open my eyes and look at him again. He’s lying on his side, head propped on his hand as he watches me.
“You didn’t have to. You didn’t let him hold your hand, you left early. He said you didn’t feel well.”
“I didn’t.”
“Maybe you just weren’t feeling it and wanted to go home.” He searches my face. “Are you going out with him again?”
“I don’t know.” I lie on my side and prop my head on my hand as I face him. “I think he’ll ask me out again. Things went well.”
“So, a second date.”
“Why do you say it like that?” I laugh. “You make it sound like it’s the worst thing in the world.”
“He’s a good guy.” Mav sits up suddenly, bringing his knees in and setting his arms over them. He’s so damn tall he looks hilarious in that position.
“He is. Very nice. A true southern boy.” I smile, sitting up to mimic his stance again.
“You do like southern boys.”
“They’re usually really well mannered.” I purse my lips. “I mean, Ray was. Everyone else I’ve dated was from New York.”
“True.”
“Daylilies,” I say after a moment. “Those are pretty flowers. They come in red.”
“Would you like daylilies?” Mav meets my eyes again and for a moment I feel like he’s asking me because he’s going to give them to me and not her, but it’s a fleeting moment because I know the truth.
I nod anyway even though I can’t bring myself to speak. The truth is, I’d like anything he’d give me.
&nbs
p; Chapter Thirteen
“I’m just going to see if I can stay with Leyla for a few days.”
“Why?”
“Because I want some girl time.”
My mother laughs in my ear. I shut my eyes to relish it. “Honey, you’re with those girls twenty-four-seven. I thought they were driving you crazy.”
“Yeah, well.” I bite my lip.
“Did something happen with the boys?”
“No, of course not.”
“You sure? Should I call Maverick myself and ask him?”
“Oh my God. No, Mom!”
She’s quiet for a beat, then another. “Have you two finally realized you like each other?”
“What?” I don’t mean to shout, but it’s exactly what comes out of my mouth. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, Rocky.” She laughs loudly, the sound ringing through the phone line. Normally, it would warm my heart, but this feels like an attack. “You know, we and the Cruzes have a bet going to see how long it takes you two to realize it and who realizes it first.”
“What?” I slap a hand over my face. I’m so glad I’m sitting in a parked car because surely this is not a safe conversation to have while driving. “What are you talking about, Mom?”
“You heard me. So, who realized it first?”
“Jesus,” I mutter. “This is mortifying. Ms. Mildred is in on this little bet too?”
“Ms. Mildred started the bet, honey.”
“Oh my God.” I sink deeper into my seat. “This is so embarrassing.”
“What’s embarrassing?” She laughs.
“Mom, this isn’t even funny. You’re literally betting on your own daughter’s emotions. This is a traumatic experience.”
“Lord. Traumatic. Get over yourself, Rocky, and when you’re done getting over yourself, spill the details.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I like him but he doesn’t know and before you say anything, no, he absolutely doesn’t like me back.”
“Yeah, right.” She huffs. “Of course, he likes you back. He’s not blind or stupid.”
“Newsflash, he doesn’t need to be blind or stupid to not like me back. Maybe I’m not his type.”
The Rulebreaker Page 5
