Played: A Novel (Gridiron Series Book 4)

by Jen Frederick

“Owners around the league will be happy to hear that. How do you feel your draft prospects are?”

  “I'm not worried about that. I can only control my performance. I'm concentrating on eating right, working out, and getting game ready.” I force my lips upward and hope I'm actually smiling and not grimacing.

  “Still, you have to be concerned about the negative press you're getting on social media. Some scouts have expressed concern that you're not surrounding yourself with the most positive influences. How do you respond to that?”

  Media Training Rule Number 3: Keep your answers brief.

  “I'd say that I'm devoted to the game.”

  The reporter smiles tightly. “Of course, your personal life may not be an appropriate topic, but what about your agent?”

  “My agent?” I blurt out. Ace grimaces and so does Bryant. I've violated Rule Number 4: Don't reveal ignorance.

  “You don't know?” The reporter’s tone contains a note of surprise; we both know that his surprise is feigned.

  “Like I said, I'm busy preparing for the draft.”

  Ace nods, confirming that I'd given the right answer. Meanwhile, Bryant is furiously tapping on her screen. I can tell right away when she finds what the reporter is asking about because her face grows taut with worry. I rub my hands again.

  “So you're not concerned that Dana Mullen's alleged gambling crimes are going to be harmful to your draft prospects?”

  I feel sweat breaking out across my forehead and wonder if these high-def cameras can pick that up. How ironic that now I'm wishing this guy would ask me something about my brother. Anything.

  I inhale and say, “I'm not familiar with what you're talking about, but you can be sure I'll check it out after the interview is over.”

  “And if Mr. Mullen is indicted on fraud charges, what will you do?”

  He's trying to back me into a corner and it's not a good feeling. It makes me want to come out swinging. I bite down on my tongue before I say something rash and stupid. If Ara were here, she'd tell me to keep my mouth shut. But I can't. I have to say something.

  “As I just said, I'm not familiar with the charges or the crime. This is the first I've heard of it, so I'm not going to comment or do anything without looking into the matter myself.”

  “But after you investigate, what then?”

  I smile again, this time with some teeth. “It feels like you're trying to get me to give you a headline. My job is to play football. That's what I'm good at and what I'm concentrating on. I'm sure that law enforcement wouldn't want some college kid making comments about their investigations.”

  I glance over the cameraman’s shoulder to Ace and Bryant, both of whom are wearing anxious expressions. I can't tell if I gave the right answer or not, but the reporter moves on. I answer the rest of the questions stiffly and by rote. It's one of the worst interviews I've given and I think we're all relieved when it wraps up a few minutes later.

  When the red light turns off, I rip off the mic and push to my feet. I want to snatch the phone out of Bryant's hands and find out what the fresh fuck is going on, but I force myself to shake hands with everyone first.

  “Thanks,” I say. I sign a few autographs, field a few sympathetic smiles, and then give a swift head jerk for Bryant and Ace to follow me. I don't have to ask for the phone. Bryant hands it over and gives me a quick rundown while I scan the article she has up on the screen.

  “Dana Mullen was arrested early this morning by the FBI for fraud and embezzlement. It all came out because his former partner is suing him for money. Apparently, he's also been betting on college games and stuff like that,” she says grimly.

  “What're you going to do?” Ace asks, equally grim.

  I toss the phone back to Bryant and give Ace an incredulous look. “I'm firing his ass. That's what I'm going to do.”

  “And then what?”

  Then I hope everything dies down, but this mess following so closely on the heels of the Rhyann drama makes me realize that I've got to get my house in order. If I don't, my dreams of going in the first round, let alone the top five, are going to be in the shitter.

  First up—Ara.

  19

  Ara

  Fleur attacks me the minute I step inside the door.

  “I want to know everything. I want it to be so detailed we're both squirming with discomfort.”

  “I don't think so.” I drop my bag and make my way to the kitchen. Fleur is right behind me.

  “Yes. It's your punishment for hiding things from me. We're best friends. We know everything about each other. Our cycles are even in sync! I'd take a tampon out of your body if it was necessary to save your life.”

  “Ewww. That's gross. Leave it in.”

  Fleur crosses her arms. “I won't. I love you too much. Besides, I can bleach my hands after. I'm going to be an elementary teacher, for crying out loud. You think removing a tampon is going to be the worst thing I do? Do you know how much snot I've already wiped away?”

  I shudder. “I'm so glad that is not my job.” Then I remember the bribe I'd brought, and lift up the bag. “Look at this. Cronuts from the Row House.”

  Fleur's attention is immediately diverted. She grabs for the bag. “Oh my God. I thought I smelled heaven walking up the stairs. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook, though.”

  “I wasn't imagining that would happen for a second.” Praying, yes. Imagining? No. While she collects the plates, I pour two glasses of milk and join her at the table.

  “I'm going to have a holy moment with this pastry and then we're going to talk about Ty. In the meantime, feel free to vent about the Dallas job. I take it you didn't bring up your dad.”

  “You guessed correctly.” When I first started going out on interviews, the hiring managers would fall all over themselves when I arrived. It was almost like I was the interviewer and they were the newly minted college grad. But then the conversation soon turned from, “where do you see yourself in five years?” to, “do you think you could get your dad to show here?”

  After several months of those types of interviews, I abandoned New York and started looking into smaller markets in hopes that people wouldn't recognize me as Arthur von de Menthe's daughter. But now that I'm not surfing in his wake, the path to employment is very choppy. It doesn't help that Marissa has been secretly poisoning the well.

  “Oh, and my boss is still mad that Dad won't sleep with her anymore, so she decided to give me a bad reference.”

  “What?” This news is shocking enough for Fleur to set down her pastry. “That bitch. I'm going for another bottle of acetone.”

  “Forget it. I quit. It's not like I wanted to continue working for someone who thought crushed ant corpses on the wall made for art.”

  “Ew.”

  “It's the latest evolution of Thompson Moore, agrarian lover.”

  “Ew again.”

  I take a big bite of the cronut and the buttery goodness goes a long way to soothing my wounded feelings. I eat half of it and then reach for the milk. Fleur snatches it from me.

  “Nuh uh. Not until you spill your guts.”

  I swallow my pastry and then lick my lips. Suddenly my mouth feels very dry.

  “How much did you hear last night?” I ask glumly. I’m disappointed at myself about my drunk babbling. It’s so inconvenient.

  “Not much. Just Ty yelling something about the two of you doing dirty things to each other and how he couldn’t believe you didn’t tell him. Him? I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!”

  Dry? My mouth is like the Sahara now. All dust, no moisture.

  “And because I'm an angel of a best friend, I remained silent all day long today and didn’t push you to talk about it at all—”

  I snicker. “Seriously? You’ve been pushing all day!”

  “—-but I’m officially through with taking the high road.”

  I snort this time.

  “I'm coming down to your level and withholding precious sustenance until
you start talking,” she finishes.

  “I don't think milk counts as sustenance, does it? Like, isn't sustenance more like food?”

  “Are you kidding me with your semantics argument right now? Because I can dump this milk over your head.” She holds up the glass threateningly.

  I throw my hands up and pretend to cower. “Okay. I'll tell you everything!”

  With a satisfied nod, she hands me the glass. “Thank you. You may proceed.”

  I drink half the glass with gusto before scowling at Fleur. “Where'd you learn your interrogation techniques? They don't teach that in the School of Education.”

  “You'd be surprised. Kindergarteners are wily. You have to be on top of your game to maintain control.”

  “Those poor kids. Are they going to have any fun?”

  “With me?” She flips her hair. “They're going to have so much fun that the rest of their lives will be a big disappointment. Are you stalling?”

  “Yes.”

  “Stop.”

  I heave a huge sigh. I'm not going to get out of this. “Ty and I were both really drunk after the Championship. I don't know exactly what happened, but we didn't have sex.”

  “Are you sure?”

  My cheeks start to get hot. “We did some stuff,” I admit. “But not that. He got up to find a condom and I…”

  I remember the scene vividly. He'd been kissing my stomach, pulling my panties down. His breath was hot, his grip secure. “Condom,” I remember gasping. He groaned and then pressed another kiss right above my hipbone before rising to his knees. The hard-on tented his boxer briefs and he took a minute to adjust himself before climbing off the bed. I about passed out at the sight of him touching himself. I have no idea why that was such a turn on. Under the cotton, I could see the muscles of his ass flex as he walked away.

  “You what?”

  I give myself a shake. “I came to my senses. He was in the bathroom and I had this lucid moment of clarity so I pretended I was passed out when he returned.”

  “What'd he do?” Fleur asks, wide-eyed.

  “He cursed. Shook my shoulder and then sighed. I played like a dead person until he fell asleep. He was out of it after about five minutes.”

  “And you think he didn't remember?”

  “No. The next morning, he asked me what time he'd gotten in and where I slept. I told him he got in around three and that I slept on the sofa. His whole response was, ‘hope I didn't snore too loud.' To which I said, 'dunno, I was mostly asleep the whole time.' Then he said that he was sorry for everything that happened the night before. I told him it was nothing and we’ve never spoken of it again.”

  Fleur knits her brows. “That's not a definitive finding on his recollection.”

  “He was technically dating Rhyann at the time. Ty's not the kind of guy to cheat on someone.”

  “He didn't cheat on Rhyann,” Fleur says with an impatient shake of her head. “She broke up with him before Christmas, remember?”

  “But they got back together.”

  “Did they really, though? I mean, I don't remember him spending time with her after the Championship. He spent every night hanging out with you.”

  “He could've gone home afterwards and banged her.” In fact, I'd endured many a sleepless night wondering exactly about that. Ty had said that he hadn't slept with her and I don't know that he's ever lied to me before.

  “Doubtful. The whole reason that you both got a shower at the Row House was because Ty kept ignoring her. If he was dicking her on the regular there's no way she'd break up with him.”

  Just thinking about Ty touching Rhyann the way he touched me makes me want to upchuck the cronut. I'm going to believe it when he said he never slept with her—just so I can eat the rest of my pastry in peace. “Can we move past the Rhyann thing?”

  “Yes. We should. Let's return to why you're avoiding Ty. Your best friend Ty. How long do you think you can actually keep that up?”

  I drop my head to my arms. “I don't know.”

  “Ara.” Fleur puts a lot of scorn into my name. Deservedly so.

  “I mean it. I don't know. I woke up this morning and the first thing he said was 'what happened Bowl night?' And I panicked and ran off.”

  “And have been avoiding him ever since,” she concludes.

  “That's accurate.”

  “You can't avoid him forever.”

  “There are only about ten weeks left of school. I think you underestimate how crafty I am.”

  She pats me soothingly. “Just sit down and talk it out. Once you clear the air, everything will be fine.”

  “What's ‘fine’ under your definition?”

  “How do you want it to be defined?” she hedges.

  “I don't know.”

  “There's an easy way to resolve this.”

  I perk up in interest. “How?”

  “You admit that you can tell him and his brother apart and then he realizes that it's destiny for you two to be together and everyone is happy ever after.”

  I shake my head vigorously. “No. That's a no go. No relationship that's built on a party trick can last.”

  “It's not a party trick. It means something. Like, how many people can tell that it's him wearing his brother's uniform on the cover of that Sports Illustrated magazine?”

  “Um, everyone should.” Those two idiots played a twin switch for their SI cover shoot. Ty wore his brother's uniform and Knox wore Ty's. They laughed themselves silly over it. “Even if you couldn't tell them apart, it's obvious because Ty is not going to hang a life-sized poster of himself in his room.”

  “That's not obvious, Ara,” my roommate insists. “Not telling them apart is normal. The weird thing is that these two played a trick during an SI shoot of all things.”

  I shift uncomfortably under her gaze. “Okay, fine. It's stupid that they play these games.”

  “Didn't you say they did it to Ellie more than once?”

  “Yes,” I mumble.

  She puts a hand to her ear. “What's that?”

  “Yes. Yes. They did it to Ellie, too, but it doesn't matter because she can tell them apart.”

  “Like you can. You can even tell them apart by their voices.”

  “It's easier when you can't see their faces.” If you've spent any time with either of them, you'd know that Ty has a deeper, sexier voice. Knox, for instance, doesn't make my body clench up when he says my name. Whereas Ty says it and I have to suck on an ice cube until I cool down.

  “Whatever. The point is that he's your soulmate. You've been in love with him since your freshman year.”

  “But we've been friends for that same time, too,” I point out. “Friends last longer than lovers. You never see Lucas anymore and you dated him the entire spring semester, freshman year. But you and me”—I wave my finger between us—“we're closer than ever.”

  “Ara,” she starts.

  I put my hand on her knee. “Fleur, life's okay right now. Yes, I don't have a job. But I believe there's one out there for me. My dad just sold another piece for enough money to run a small country for an entire year. My best friend got a job offer in the best school district in this state and my other best friend just won his National Championship, is healthy, and about to get drafted into the NFL. I'm not going to mess up all these great things because sometimes my heart beats too fast when Ty's around. Once you break that friendship seal, our world changes. No more Ty, Leon, Fleur, and Ara. Our group will break up, too.”

  Fleur looks unconvinced, but she takes a bite of her cronut and doesn't argue with me. We eat in silence for a few minutes until she says, “I'm not the one you have to convince.”

  “Who is, then? Ty?”

  “Nope. You. Until you can convince yourself that you don't love him, all your excuses are meaningless. You'll still be hurting yourself every day. Plus, you're doing your best friend a big disservice.”

  “How so?”

  “Because you're not giving him a chance. You've pi
geonholed him, stuck him in a slot in your life, and haven't given him the opportunity to show you that he's more than what you've assumed he is. And, if you really love him as a friend, that's pretty sad.”

  20

  Ara

  Ty: Where are you?

  Ty: Call me.

  I set my phone on my desk and stare into the mirror. I don't like the timid, uncertain person I see.

  Fleur's right. I can't avoid Ty forever. The whole point of brushing all these inconvenient feelings under a rug is so our idyllic friendship can continue, but if I ignore Ty, then what's the point?

  I find my spine, pick up the phone, and text him back.

  Me: Home. Hungry?

  Ty: I could eat. I'll bring something over.

  A public place means that I'm less likely to do stupid things.

  Me: Or we could meet at the Row House.

  Ty: I’ll bring something over.

  I get the sense that I could suggest a dozen other places and the response would remain the same. I wonder how he convinced Rhyann to meet with him at the Row House. She probably wasn't as stubborn as he is. And, apparently, I'm not either because I give in.

  Me: Ok. I'll order something for you.

  He doesn't bother to respond. I go to the kitchen and pull out a couple menus.

  My roommate hops up from the sofa to peer over my shoulder. “Are we ordering in?”

  “Ty's coming over,” I reply glumly.

  She tsks. “The end of the world is not happening.”

  “You sure about that?” It feels like the end of something. “This has all the makings of a disaster. Like Sharknado except with no sharks, just pieces of Ara flying around in a big cyclonic cloud.”

  “If it doesn't work out because Ty turns out to be an ass, you'll always have me.”

  “Are you saying you'll leave Leon for me?”

  She taps a finger against her chin, pretending to consider it. “We can have a poly relationship. Leon would probably love that.”

  “It's nice to have a backup plan.”

  “I'm going to go over to his place to explain this new situation.” She slings her purse over her shoulder.