Wrecked (Love Edy Book Three)

by Shewanda Pugh

  No one should have known where they were, or who was in which room, for that matter.

  “Yeah?” croaked Hassan, certain some media asshole had found him to unleash some further torment.

  He was met with silence.

  “Hello?” Hassan said. “Last time.”

  “Don’t hang up. I, uh, wanted to wish you luck,” said the familiar voice, “and tell you to watch out for Thornton on defense. He’s large and quicker than most his size.”

  Hassan couldn’t stop the smile. “Nathan.”

  “Yes?”

  “I—” There was so much to say about responsibilities and expectations and how Paul may or may not be having a baby. But he needed Nathan to know that he didn’t want to disappoint him anymore, that he loved him like a father, and loved his daughter endlessly. She was the most beautiful, awe-inspiring, perfect creation. He was sorry he’d allowed so much to come between him and Nathan. He wanted to say it all, but when he opened his mouth, there was only silence.

  “I owe you and Edy an apology,” Nathan said. “I haven’t worked up the courage to call her, but I am sorry for not supporting her decisions and yours. Also for being so impulsive as of late.”

  Hassan paused. “Is everything alright?” While he assumed Edy’s dad referred to their hotel fiasco, there was no way he’d ask for clarification.

  “Well, if she hasn’t mentioned anything, I suppose…” Nathan trailed into a dramatic sigh. “I’ve handled things badly. If Edy asks, let her know that replacement credit cards will take some time getting to her. They need to be mailed to Boston before I can mail them to Baton Rouge.”

  Right. Hassan filed it away.

  “I do have a question, son,” Nathan said. “My behavior when I was in Louisiana… has Edy mentioned it?”

  “Not since you were here.”

  “And has she forgiven me?”

  “That’s for her to say.”

  “She’s a good girl. And she’s sacrificed exceptionally for you. An Ivy League education, the opportunity to join a ballet company, even the counsel and companionship of your mother, whom she adores. Edy has forgone all this for you, Hassan. She loves you deeply.”

  Hassan’s breathing slowed. They’d chosen Baton Rouge together, hadn’t they? This was the place where both their dreams would be realized. Wasn’t it?

  But what if it wasn’t? What if Nathan was right, and Edy had given up some future, some opportunity, just to be near him now? He hadn’t wanted that. He hadn’t wanted her to sacrifice any more than he’d had to. And yet, according to Nathan, she’d done just that.

  Long after their phone call had ended, Hassan wrestled with whether he’d pushed Edy towards her dreams or dragged her into his own.

  After his talk with Nathan, Hassan had a night in the hotel, followed by breakfast and lunch, before the trek back to campus for the March Down Hill. Though he’d heard about the tradition, and read about it, nothing had prepared him for the clamber of shouting fans, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and one-on-top-another, for the outright screaming as his team went to the beat of a cheerful LSU band down the road to Tiger Stadium. Down towards the front was Edy. Hassan knew that, and the thought made him feel a bit more grounded. It was Saturday, the first Saturday in September, and finally time for football.

  A few narrow turns brought them to the locker room. A gleaming gold helmet trimmed in purple and white hung from a hook in each, while neatly folded towels took a corner on private shelves. Each locker had a black folded chair before it, and an LSU jersey propped up with padding. White with purple letters.

  PRADHAN. 27

  Was he breathing? Hassan wasn’t sure. It all seemed so surreal. Like a dream he could never work hard enough to make reality.

  27 was his number in high school. When he tried out for JV football in middle school, he didn’t make the first cut. He’d gone straight to Edy’s house and cried like a baby. Literally, he fell apart and wound up sobbing into her pillows.

  Hassan felt like a fool, he’d said, running around behind the Dysons, begging Nathan for every scrap of information he could use. He didn’t have the pedigree to be out there, couldn’t stand the setbacks and uncertainty: everyone said he was too emotional. And when was the last time she’d seen an NFL player named ‘Gupta’ or ‘Patel’? Who the hell was he kidding exactly? He knew he never should have tried out.

  Edy had pulled him into an embrace tighter than any he’d ever known, then whispered in his ear that one day he would be the most incredible football player ever. He still heard that little girl voice on his bad days, on his worst days. On that day, she had held him, squeezing until he hugged her back. It was then that the tears had started. He only had a general idea of how much time had passed by how dark her room grew. Finally, when he thought she had fallen asleep against him, Edy said, “Don’t give up. Please.” Even then he hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to her.

  When he made the team the following year, he was second string and given 72 as a number, usually reserved for lineman. He worked hard and moved up to starting, then varsity by the eighth grade. When he got to high school, he was able to make varsity and prove he deserved the starting role a lot quicker. He kept the digits 7 and 2, but inverted them, to remind himself of the nobody he’d once been. Each time, each school, he’d begun anew, having to prove who he was one more time. This time, he decided, no one would forget again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Their season opener was fabulous. Edy marched with her teammates in a parade that weaved through campus, through throngs of screaming fans, reaching children and little girls who clamored to take pictures with her. Some were even dressed like her. She paused for photos where she could and found she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Along the way, nestled between the throngs of LSU devotees, stood Silas Swain, like a rock in rippling waves. With both hands in his pockets and a twist of the mouth, a single eyebrow rose at the sight of Edy. She had no idea why, but his expression irked the hell out of her. She scowled without meaning to, earned a flat out grin from him, and then turned away as a pair of pigtailed twins pulled on her arm. With a smile as bright as the sun and Silas Swain’s annoying ass out her thoughts, Edy paused for a picture with the grade school girls. She could hardly believe the way people clamored to her, shouting with excitement. Would this really be how she spent her weekends? The idea shot equal parts intimidation and thrill right through her.

  Once at the stadium, she had a problem of a different kind. Never. In her life. Had she seen a crowd so enormous. They packed in with their banners and screaming, ready to see her, to see Hassan, to see their teammates. This was their new life. This was what they’d signed up for. She’d had the quivers something fierce. Amazingly, Tamela gathered them, first in the bathroom, then in a snug corner near the field, for a quiet moment, some reflection, encouragement, and finally prayer. She squeezed hands and hugged with them, surprised that she’d been calmed by talking to God.

  What a massive crowd. What a beautiful football team. Though Edy stood in the stands, twisting, turning, leaping with her teammates, there was only one player she could see. She gasped when he took to the field, solid and ready and in an actual freaking LSU uniform with Pradhan on the back. It was all Edy could do not to squeal and shove her fist in her mouth, she was so excited. They were there. This was college. It was real.

  They were in for a helluva good game. Even before starting, Edy knew that Virginia Tech had picked up a monster of a defensive tackle on a transfer from Georgia. They also had a linebacker made of pure muscle and viciousness. That guy would break up a mother and her child for a football on the other end.

  The game began. Edy watched, fists balled, breath coming in shallow jaunts, as she silently prayed for Hassan. Somehow, she knew he needed something big, some jolt of confidence, to solidify his belief that he belonged on this field. Three minutes in, it came. A snap of a ball, followed by a handoff to Hassan, exploded when he burst past, no, through defenders and flashed tow
ards the end zone. Edy screamed his name, leapt into the air, and forgot the studied poise she was expected to exude. So, when Tamela hissed her name and Edy caught a glimpse of those meanly narrowed eyes, she remembered that that was not how Lady Tigers behaved.

  “You’re a freshman,” Tamela said when the crowd had settled down. “So, you need time to learn. But it’s a lesson I’ll make sure you remember.”

  Edy grimaced, thinking of the lessons she’d already learned and the punishments that followed the stubborn ones. Eyes down and off guys, precision before flare, and never question authority were the favorite warnings of Tamela and the other upperclassmen. Should anyone of the freshman be caught so much as grinning enthusiastically, the lot of them paid for it with shouts to the face, late night exercise, and endless hours of standing. Edy had no idea what ordeal she’d inflicted on the others with her ridiculous screaming, her irrepressible need to cheer. It wasn’t even like at South End, where Hassan could hear her, sense her, where they were connected despite her distance from the field. At LSU, she was one in a sea of thousands, indistinguishable, insignificant.

  More than once, Edy swallowed his name and cautioned a glance at Tamela as the game wore on. Oh, he was doing so good and it had been so long since she’d seen him... He must’ve been about to burst; she knew she was.

  When half time approached, Tamela led Edy and her teammates in a sashaying march to the football field. During this, Edy suppressed the urge to giggle in what had to be a bout of bad nerves. She kept her eyes on the back in front of her, Cassie’s back, in an effort to block out the throngs of fans who would soon be staring at her.

  She was ready for this, right? Edy stole a glance up into the stands.

  “Face forward, freshman,” she heard from behind her.

  Edy’s head snapped front.

  They eased onto the sidelines and huddled in a corner, mostly away from the danger of the field. Edy’s gaze swept the football team, skipping over Lawrence, before resting on number 27 again. She had a stupid grin on her face. She was sure of it.

  Half time had arrived. With wide eyes, Edy watched LSU’s football team approach before she realized that the dancers practically stood in the way of the locker room.

  He noticed her at the same time that she noticed him. And there was nothing in the world that could have stopped that stupid grin.

  Hassan had jogged off the field, but now he slowed to a stop in front of her. He paused long enough to take off his helmet. When he looked her over, one side of his mouth jerked up in a smirk of a smile, he touched her face, just barely, before ghosting fingers down her arm. Before Edy could properly respond, he took off again, catching up with his teammates for the locker room.

  “Jesus. Don’t be quite so easy.” The male voice startled Edy and she turned to see Silas Swain just behind her. He came around to the front of their cluster like he belonged there.

  Edy grimaced. Thankfully, Tamela and her co-captain, London Wu, were seething in the throes of some hushed argument. So she narrowed her eyes at Silas.

  “Easy?” she echoed. “He’s my boyfriend.” And the only guy she’d ever be with.

  Silas laughed. “Yeah. You and every other girl.”

  What? Edy opened her mouth for a vicious retort, only to be disappointed when he promptly walked off. He seemed to hush Tamela’s argument with a word, interject something, then disappeared.

  “Ladies,” Tamela said and the flutters raged in Edy’s stomach. “It’s time.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The rain began right after the game. It gushed in torrents, steaming up from the heat of the night. Dirt-stained and sore, Hassan broke into something of a run alongside half a dozen other guys who straggled from the locker room. It was a hard win against Virginia Tech and Hassan had played his part. They ducked into random cars, swung onto the back of pickups, and encouraged stragglers to squeeze in so they wouldn’t, according to Freight, ruin their perms, melt the sugar in their tanks, or whatever. Just about everyone went in the same direction, to the ‘football’ dorm where they occupied two floors.

  As he took the short ride from the stadium, Hassan stared out at the storm, thoughts whisked away by the rain. He couldn’t help the smile that rushed to his lips as he remembered summer storms on the Cape and dashing in the rain—him and Edy—always him and Edy. She’d squeal and hoot and splash into the ocean in an absolutely idiotic bid to get away from his tickling fingers. She could be ridiculously ticklish in the right places. And, of course, he knew the right places. He thought now of how irresistible she’d looked at the game and how he couldn’t help but touch her, even there, in front of everyone. God, that girl was everything to him.

  “Get that stupid look off your face, Pradhan,” Freight said as he maneuvered Cash’s pickup. Freight had snatched the keys in the locker room—without permission—and now sat behind the wheel. Since he’d given Hassan a head’s up, he’d been able to get the passenger seat. They’d locked the team quarterback out so that he’d been forced to ride flatbed in the rain in his own vehicle. Hassan had zero guilt. In fact, it was partial payback for a shitload of shampoo squirted into his shower and into his hair a few days ago. Not only had it taken forever to get out, but it reinforced the narrative that he was, in fact, like some pageant queen who needed special amenities. Those special amenities included long showers with a pissed locker room attendant waiting for him to finish.

  “You were thinking about that girl again,” Freight said. “The dancer chick you came down here with.”

  Hassan glanced at him in surprise.

  Okay. So, Freight knew more than Hassan thought. That was the way of this team. Somehow, everyone seemed to know everyone else’s business. Because of that, it was common knowledge that Edy the Dancer was Hassan’s girl and they were some kind of sappy sweet couple who had had their first kiss in diapers.

  Hey. So, the guys weren’t much for accuracy. But they got the gist of things. Anyway, it wasn’t as if he’d made efforts to hide it—especially not caressing her arm in full view of spectators.

  “What makes you think I’m thinking about Edy?” Hassan said. They hit a speed bump at full throttle and, even with the windows up, Hassan could hear the flurry of cursing that erupted from Cash.

  “First off, you are thinking about her. Second, you always get this stupid look on your face, like you’re not here with us,” Freight said.

  Hassan glanced at him. “I was thinking about plays.”

  He wasn’t interested in becoming the team joke, and if everyone thought all he did was spend his time obsessing over a girl, he quickly would be.

  “I had a girl that made me think about plays a lot, too,” Freight said conversationally. “She was a dancer, too, if you can believe that. And an asshole.” He peeled a corner as if it surprised him, yanking the steering wheel at the last minute and ejecting another volley of swears from Cash.

  Hassan almost felt sorry for him, back there in the bowels of his own vehicle, wet, and being thrown all over the place.

  Almost.

  “Did you hear me?” Freight said.

  Hassan snapped to attention. “Yeah, sure, of course.” Freight hated not to be heard. It was usually better to at least pretend to have heard him than to let him find out you hadn’t been listening. While he’d say it wasn’t a big deal, Hassan knew that he hadn’t gotten his shampoo bath until he’d ignored Freight for something trivial.

  The rain fell wild now. The smile returned to Hassan and the warmth with it. Edy was so close. He didn’t have curfew on game night and he wondered if Edy had the same break.

  He could go to her, he realized. Go to her, kiss her, tell her he had to see her. She wouldn’t turn him down, nor would she slam the door in his face, no matter what rules applied. He missed her. He just wanted her close. Half a campus away, tethered by a text here and a text there, he could admit that he wanted more. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, to be inside her, please.

  He made up his mind to do i
t. He’d see her tonight, no matter what. He’d had enough of this shit. A thousand players wanted to micromanage, to control their lives. Hassan refused to put up with it. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again.

  At the dorm, Cash leapt from the bed of the truck and went lunging for Freight, a monumental tower he couldn’t possibly topple. Still he tried, and the two grappled in the drenched grass as a few others hooted and cheered. Hassan went inside, out of the rain. He wanted to see Edy. He wanted to love her.

  Xavier, Lawrence, and two linebackers caught him in the hall. They were celebrating the Tech win at some frat house down the road. He was coming, wasn’t he? They wouldn’t even have won if it wasn’t for the early touchdown Hassan had scored. He had to be there. Half the school would be looking for him. All his teammates would.

  Hassan sighed. Edy was what he wanted. But maybe he could see her, then attend the party? A plan began to form in his head. So he agreed, then headed up to his room to call her. She’d have to flat out reject him for him to stay away that night.

  ***

  “Hang on,” Naomi said and tipped out the room. They were supposed to be getting ready for a series of frat parties nearby. They were as mandatory as practice right now, according to Tamela. Since part of the team’s fundraising efforts included selling calendars in the spring, it was important for the girls to be seen, out in public, looking attractive. Their captain said that parties were the best way to accomplish this. Still, the idea of prettying herself up so that other people could gawk made Edy’s nerves crawl.

  “Did you tell her I wasn’t feeling well?” Edy resisted the urge to twist her hands together and instead balled them so that her nails dug into her flesh.