“I guess I should've said it's Ty's problem.”
This shuts her up for a moment. She slumps onto the cushion next to me. I pat her head, thinking back to the night of the Bowl game when he was very attracted to me, judging by the size of his boner and the way his lips devoured mine, his hands fused to my body.
But it must've been the alcohol fueling his desire because he hasn't touched me since. Hell, he doesn't remember touching me at all.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad.” Her hand lands on my shoulder.
“You didn't make me feel bad.” Fleur's not the one with the memory loss. “But you need to give up on this Ty and me thing. It's not going to happen.”
“Fine, be a dream killer,” she says but changes the subject. “Should we eat?”
“Yeah. Mexican?”
“Give me five. I gotta pee.” Fleur hops up and races to the bathroom.
While she’s gone, I take the time to straighten my messy ponytail and swipe new gloss across my lips. I wish I could forget about Bowl night. It's not doing me any good. Plus, because my imagination seems to have broken free of any sensible boundaries, I'm bringing the mood down around me. I force the dangerous thoughts deep into the safe house in the back of my head. No good comes from entertaining fantasies about Ty.
Fleur joins me at the door, wearing a cropped hoodie paired with black yoga pants, same as me.
“I think the thing I'm going to miss the most is wearing yoga pants twenty-four-seven,” she says.
“Me, too.”
“I’m starting to feel homesick over all of our friends.”
“Ah ha!” I point a finger at her.
“What?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about how we're all being nostalgic because graduation is coming so soon.” Realization slaps me awake. Fleur’s infected like me. I knew my stirred-up feelings toward Ty weren’t genuine. We're all feeling a bit melancholic. Yeah, that's it.
“You could keep working at Marissa’s. Then we could keep hanging out together,” Fleur says for the hundredth time as we leave the apartment.
“She’s already given the permanent job to Van.” Which is why he acts like my boss, even though I have worked for Marissa longer.
“Only because you told her you were looking at other places. Even your dad wants you to stay. One word from him and Van Riley would be out the door, waiting by the curb like a trash can.”
Which is exactly why I’m not staying. I’d gotten the job from Marissa because she thought I was a package deal. Hire me, get a gallery showing with my father. And Dad was ready to make good on that expectation until I told him no. I want to get a job on my own merit. Besides, I can't pimp out my dad for a job.
“I’ll find something else,” I say, but my words lack confidence. I haven’t had a decent interview for months.
“I know you will. I'm so done with school. I don't even know if I can last until Spring Break.”
“Spring Break is two weeks away.”
“My point exactly. I'm counting the hours until I'm on that flight to the Bahamas.” She raises both arms in the air. “Sun, beach, hot boys, get ready because Fleur the Hurricane is coming!”
“I think you should change your Spring Break name. Hurricanes and resorts don't mix.”
“Fleur the Happy Holiday Helper is coming,” she yells.
“Not to be that person, but it sounds like you're opening up a happy ending parlor.”
Fleur drops her arms. “You know what? I'm glad you're not coming to the Bahamas with us.”
She scowls but lets me link arms with her. I will miss Fleur. And Ty. And all of our other friends. That’s why I’m so antsy around Ty. Not for any other reason.
If I tell myself this enough times, it’ll be true.
It has to be true.
10
Ara
“Well, I'm off. I'm supposed to meet Greg in ten minutes,” Fleur says, wiping her mouth. She slides out of the booth and throws a ten on the table.
Ty, who conveniently showed up outside our apartment right at dinnertime, picks up the cash and shoves it back at her. “It's on me.”
Fleur tucks the bill away without another word. “Thanks, Ty,” she chirps and leans down to place a peck on his cheek.
“No problem.”
“You coming home tonight?” I ask.
“Probably not,” she says. “Greg's roommate is pulling an all-nighter with his study group so we've got the place to ourselves.”
“Kinky,” Ty murmurs. “Don't do anything that would put you in the hospital.”
She laughs. “I'll take that under advisement.”
“That's your advice?” I tease after Fleur leaves. “Not to get hurt?”
“Seems like a solid recommendation to me. Tell me how our bunny is doing. You didn’t answer me earlier,” Ty says between bites of his chicken breast. The bird isn't on the menu here, but Ty's a local celebrity so they stumbled over themselves to agree to his special order.
Frankly, I think it's a crime to eat bland chicken at the best Mexican eatery in town, but then again, I'm not the one striving for a multi-million-dollar signing bonus.
“The bunny is cowering under a bush, waiting for the farmer to leave.”
He grimaces. “When do I get to see the new stuff?”
“I'm going with never.” The only reason Ty even knows Blinkie the Bunny exists is because he's a nosy jerk who likes to rifle through people's desks when they go to the bathroom.
“Ah, come on.” His lower lip juts out slightly in an endearing pout.
I squint to make his features look a little less perfect. “You shouldn't even know it exists.”
“But I do.” He adjusts his glasses cheekily. The boy is totally unrepentant about reading my notebook.
“Because you invaded my privacy,” I point out, jabbing my fork in his direction.
He leans back, out of fork range, and crosses his arms. His biceps muscles flex. Does he do that on purpose? Taunt me with his perfect arms? “How was I supposed to know that your red notebook labeled 'history notes' had such secrets?”
“You're not even taking history,” I remind him. “There was no need to look at my history notes in the first place.”
“Ara, Ara,” he says. “We have no secrets. I was thinking that you could add me to your book. I could slay the farmer. Save our bunny.”
I can feel my cheeks heat up. “The hero is not you.”
“He should be. All heroes are tall and handsome with a rocking bod.” He waves a hand in front of his face. “That's me.” This kid has no shortage of ego. “I hope when you draw me in, I’m doing some cool horse riding tricks.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Those things are dope. I want to mount a house from a run. Maybe storm up some steps. Remember when Aragorn rode into the hall in Return of the King? I definitely want to do that. Also, I want to smite people with my sword. Are you taking this down?”
“No. No, I am not taking this down.” But I am smiling. I can't help it. His ridiculous recitation makes me laugh.
He grins in response. “That's okay. I'll remind you later.”
“Ara!” a cheery and somewhat familiar voice calls.
I turn and nearly choke on my fajita. It's the shark. Kathleen. Did she follow me here? Nah, that'd be too...weird? Stalkerish? Although, we are talking about Ty Masters here. Once a girl crept into his hotel room at an away game and left her underwear on his bedspread. Used underwear. It was as gross as it sounds.
“Uh, hi, Kathleen.” I give a tepid wave back and then shoot a glance in Ty's direction. His face shows no sign of recognition, meaning he's not drawing an immediate connection between the card I gave him earlier and this girl.
Which is good, but then I immediately chastise myself for caring. If Ty wants to date this woman, it's his business. I'll support him.
Kathleen sways over to our table, looking gorgeous with her brunette hair side-parted and artfully fr
amed around her pale, small face. Would it kill him to attract women who are marginally less beautiful?
I paste on a bright smile. “Are you stalking me? Because I'm gonna be straight with you—you're not my type. If I was going to date girls, it'd be my roommate Fleur. I like the sweet, cute kind.”
“Really?” Ty interjects. “Fleur? I would've pegged you as going for someone more glamorous.”
“Fleur can look glamorous,” I object.
“She's got a baby face. She's cute, like a doll, but not your type. You need someone more—”
“Annnnyway,” I interrupt with exaggerated impatience. “What's up?” I ask Kathleen, who remains standing at the side of the table with her pageant-perfect smile still affixed to her face.
“It's strange how we've run into each other twice in the same amount of days.” She holds out her hand to Ty. “I'm Kathleen. We haven't met before.”
He shakes it briefly and proceeds to refold his arms. “Ty.” He doesn't give his last name. Fuck, I love this guy. Platonically, I mean.
Kathleen is not at all flustered by Ty's lack of response. Not that she should be. He's like this with everyone but a rare few. Probably another reason why Rhyann broke up with him.
“I met your friend the other day. Well, met is really the wrong word. Accosted is more accurate. I've been dying to meet you, and when I saw Ara here, I thought it was a perfect opportunity to introduce myself.”
He arches an eyebrow in my direction—a wordless what the fuck request for aid. What to do? I shouldn't sabotage him, right? That'd be wrong.
“The card,” I tell him, hiding my regret. As a friend, I should help him.
“Card?” His eyes narrow as he remembers. He pats his chest and then leans forward and pulls the damn thing from the back pocket of his jeans. “Business card. Right.”
I stare at him bug-eyed. He was carrying that thing around? All day?
Kathleen beams. “That's right. You've had it with you all this time, have you.”
It’s not a question but a statement of fact. One that sounds like she’s the one who spent the afternoon in Ty’s pocket.
“I, ah, I showed it to a friend.” Ty stumbles over his words, pauses, and then hits the restart button, full of his usual Masters swagger. “You wanted to meet?”
Kathleen gestures to a chair. “May I sit?”
Ty opens his mouth, but I speak first. “Sure.” I mean, if he's going to carry the damn thing around he must want to meet her. I kick the chair out rather ungraciously.
He frowns but stands up to hold the chair for her. His mama taught him well. I try to keep the scowl off my face. If this is what my friend wants, I should support it, even if it kills me.
Kathleen beams at him as she takes a seat. “You dated a former sorority sister of mine. Jennie Martin? Blonde, petite, very pretty.”
Ty gives me another questioning look. Jennie was junior year, spring semester. She lasted until Spring Break and then was super pissed when he wouldn't go to the Caymans with her.
“The Caymans girl,” I explain.
He nods slowly. “Jennie. I remember her.”
But it's clear to both me and Kathleen that he doesn't remember much at all. This short-term memory loss doesn't bother Kathleen, who keeps smiling. Don’t her cheeks grow tired? I don’t know that I can physically keep smiling longer than thirty seconds.
“Jennie's a sweetheart and always said how you were the best boyfriend she ever had.”
I hide a smirk. Jennie screamed at Ty that he showed less emotion than a pumpkin. Fleur and I called him the Great Pumpkin for a whole month. Ty's lips twitch slightly, signaling the return of his memory—or at least parts of it.
“She was a nice girl,” Ty says graciously.
“But not one that fit you well, right?” Kathleen says.
“I wouldn't say that,” he demurs. He's not one to make complaints about exes, especially not to a stranger.
“Do you know why I gave Ara my card?”
“Can't say that I do.” His face is blank.
I give the girl credit. He's showing no interest, but she's undeterred, which I'd admire any other time, but this is my man that she's trying to capture. No, Ara, I scold myself, Ty is not your man.
But I want him to be, a tiny voice says. The image of Ty sliding down Kathleen's body makes me want to hurl. Why did I invite her to sit? I might as well have laid myself bare on the table and invited people to whip me. It would've been less painful.
“I think we'd be a good match.” She shifts, somehow closing the distance between him and her. “I've watched you play for four years. I've read most of your interviews. You're focused and driven, which is something that’s so rare to find in men these days. The last handful of guys I dated had more interest in getting stoned than studying the stock market. And I have family money so I'm not interested in yours. What I am interested in is you. I believe in being straightforward. When I saw Ara the other day, I jumped on the chance to get an introduction. I'm not the type of person who needs coddling or will be angry that you can't go on vacation or that you're focused on your sport. I admire that about you. That's damn sexy.” She holds out her phone. “Want to give me your number? That way you don't have to be the one to call.”
Ty scratches his cheek. Worryingly, I wonder if he’s as impressed as I am. Kathleen knows what she wants and she's going after it. He likes confident people. I want to scream, bitch, he's mine.
“I don't answer the phone, to be honest. And I'm shit at responding to texts,” he replies.
Kathleen doesn’t care. “Like I told your friend. I'm a busy woman and don't need a lot of attention. You'll see.”
The two stare at each other, but I see a wavering in Ty's expression. It sends a bolt of anxiety through me and perhaps that's why I recklessly blurt out his digits.
“Ara?” Again, said with the same what the fuck air as before.
I stare back in horror at what I've done. Kathleen grins happily. I've got to get out of here, before I stupidly start planning their wedding.
“Anyway, we have to get going.” I stand up in such haste that the table rocks. Ty gets to his feet immediately, still bewildered. “Ty has a meeting and I do, too.”
I grab his hand and pull him with me. Kathleen waves, clearly pleased with the outcome. Once we're a safe distance away, he lays into me.
Stopping short, he swings me around by the shoulder. “What in the hell, Ara? You gave my phone number out to some random woman?”
“I just…I don't know.” I scratch my head. I can't really tell him that I was worried I'd be so overwhelmed with jealousy that I overcorrected badly. “I was just shocked by how pragmatic she is. Maybe that's what you need. You were asking me to pretend with you this morning. Well, here's someone who doesn't want to pretend, who says she's down with you being the absentee boyfriend, who looks good on camera. Your engagement would probably be a featured Instagram story.”
Because the sad truth is that I can't pretend with Ty. It's taken all of my energy to continue acting like we're just friends since Bowl night. If I had to act like his girlfriend, knowing that it was all for show, I'd lose it. I'd be found sitting in the tree in front of the Admin building, wearing a blanket torn from Ty's bed with his jersey wrapped around my head, reciting his stats.
“Are you nuts?” Yes, Ty, I am not in complete control of myself. He rants on. “A woman I don't know propositions me out of the blue and wants to be my girlfriend after seeing my current girlfriend epically dump me in public for being inattentive and disinterested?” He shakes his head. “That raises red flags immediately. Big, huge red flags, Ara.”
“You're carrying her card around,” I wail.
“I showed it to Remy. I don't know why I stuck it back into my pocket. But you're right. It's an option I should keep open. You turned me down after all.” He sticks both hands in his pockets and starts walking.
“What?” I scurry behind him. “Are you saying that if I hadn't turned
you down, you wouldn't call her?”
“Why would I need to?”
Fake date him and he'll see how much he loves you.
The idea is so tempting, but I know that anything more than a friendship is a mirage. We've had four years of friendship and he's not shown any interest in me as a woman since our very first meeting.
I force out a laughing response. “Everyone is turning you down these days. Rhyann. Me. I guess you could make do with Kathleen.”
I can't believe I manage to get those words out.
“Doubtful.” Ty doesn't notice my struggle. And why should he? In his mind, I'm Ara, his best friend, not Ara, sex goddess.
“She has your number.”
“Thanks to you.”
I snap then, partly mad at myself for pushing Kathleen and partly mad at Ty for not wanting me like I want him.
“You've been eating chicken breast instead of steak, and broccoli instead of fries for the last two months. You work out eight hours a day, watch tape, practice your interview questions, all for a better position in the draft. This girl could be the difference between being drafted first or tenth.”
“You sound like my agent,” he mutters, still looking straight ahead.
“So you'll call her?”
“Why are you hassling me about this? Do you really want me to date someone?”
I look down so he can't see the flash of pain across my face. I don't even know why I'm supporting this, because the idea of him and Kathleen as a couple makes my stomach cramp.
It should be me, cries that silly internal voice.
A groan lodges in my throat. Damn Fleur for putting ideas in my head. Or, rather, for reigniting old ideas that I thought I’d snuffed out.
“I just want what's best for you,” I tell him.
He slows down and slings an arm around my shoulders. “I know. But let me figure that out. ’Kay?”
I nod and we walk toward my apartment, but the silence is strained between us. His arm feels heavy and the rock in my chest makes each step an effort.
I feel like the distance between us is growing already, despite being by each other's side most of our waking days.
Played: A Novel (Gridiron Series Book 4) Page 8
