She’s the first one I think about when I have bad news and good news. I’d rather hang out with her than anyone else.
“Good, because Ara fits me. She’s funny, a good listener.” Sexy as hell. “You said that the earth moved when you met Ellie. I suppose it did for me, too, but so slowly I didn’t realize it until we were on top of each other.” Literally.
“If you say she’s the one, then she’s the one,” he says, way too easily, in my opinion.
“If you have something you want to say, get it out,” I tell him.
He leans back, folding his arms behind his head. “I got nothing, bro. If she’s who you want, then I’m for it.”
This isn’t like him at all. I feel compelled to offer another, fuller explanation. “I asked her out the first time I saw her,” I admit.
Knox perks up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Don’t you remember me telling you that I mowed down a girl on my way to class, asked her out and she turned me down?”
“That was Ara?”
“Yeah.” Sophomore year, I was running to class with Remy and a couple other teammates. We were tossing a nerf ball between us. Remy threw it long and I ran full out until I ran into an obstacle. A five-and-a-half-foot, long brown-haired obstacle. I was able to catch her before she hit the ground. “Almost crushed her and then skipped class to apologize to her.”
“She recognize you?”
“Nah, but even if she had, it wouldn’t have meant anything. Her dad’s a big-time sculptor. Like his work is in museums and shit. Being around famous people is normal for her.”
“So you asked her out and she said no. Cuz why?”
I don’t know. “She said she wasn’t in the market for a man, but she could use a friend.”
“And you two lived happily ever after,” he sums up.
“I guess.” I pull into the drive and glance at my quiet phone. “The ever after part is up in the air for now.”
“Really?”
“Nah. I’ll wear her down.”
He busts out laughing and I do, too. Knox stays for two more days, during which Ara ignores all of my texts.
I’m not worried. Like I told Knox, I’ll wear her down. I didn’t become an elite athlete by quitting at the first sign of any resistance.
25
Ara
It’s childish to run away, but I figure I’m only twenty-two. I have decades of life left in which I can be responsible and face up to all the drama in my life. For now, though, I’m running home.
I try not to brood for the entire three-hour road trip south to my dad’s house. I blare a playlist of my favorite rappers. I try to fall into a podcast on This American Life. Neither of those work so I resort to playing games with the road signs. There are almost no road signs with the letter Q or X. If I ever become rich, I’m going to buy a town and name it Qixing for all the road warriors out there.
You can thank me later.
Unfortunately, there’s no distraction strong enough to tear Ty out of my head. Sex with him was…mind-blowing. Yes, literally, every sensible thought I’ve ever had was turned to ash. He said more and I…I parted my legs.
Well, I did more than that. I dug my nails into his back. I bit his ear. I sucked on his dick, reveled in his deep, throaty groans, and came more times in one twenty-four period than I thought was physically possible.
I woke up wanting him so I did what any smart girl would. I ran to the bathroom. Just when I thought it was safe to emerge, I made that stupid error with Knox. Once Knox tells Ty that I can tell them apart, I’m doomed.
Ty won’t ever let up. He says he doesn’t believe in that “metaphysical” crap as he terms it, but deep down, I know he does. It’s why he never has become invested in any other girl. He’s waiting for some elusive sign that she’s the one. And it’s never come because that shit doesn’t exist.
I fear for our friendship even more now. I thought about floating the friends with benefits idea to him. Maybe we just needed to fuck our way back to friendship. What guy would refuse that?
But if he finds out I can tell the two apart? He’ll never accept friendship only, which leaves me in the position of having no friend at all. Romantic relationships never last. My dad is case example A. His love for women has only ever been temporary. I’m one of the few females in his life he hasn’t left and it’s because we don’t have a romantic relationship. It’s filial. The other women in his life who have lasted are friends.
The flame of passion dies out, but the solid coals of friendship burn forever. Ty will get tired of me. Or maybe I’ll get tired of him and his dedication to the game. That’s what happened to Mom. She didn’t want to be second to Dad’s art. She left and the two of them haven’t spoken more than a handful of times since then.
Dad misses her. Sometimes he’ll talk about how grateful he is for all her support. He wouldn’t be where he is now if it wasn’t for her. But Mom can’t get past the neglect. She said he was an emotional vampire, sucking all the energy out of her. That she never had time for herself and her own needs.
I see that. Dad can be very self-absorbed. I love him, but I’m not in love with him. I don’t need the constant attention and affirmation that Mom wanted. I’ve accepted Dad for what he is—a brilliant, flawed man who tries his hardest. His hardest wasn’t good enough for her.
If only they had stuck to being friends. Then Dad wouldn’t miss her. Mom wouldn’t be angry all the time. I wish Ty understood this. He knows my past, or, at least some of it. He knows I don’t speak to my mom because it always ends in a fight. He knows my dad is flighty as hell. He knows I value our friendship more than anything.
Why oh why did we have to screw everything up with sex? Stupid sex.
Stupid sex.
Stupid amazing sex.
My body tingles at the mention. Stupid body. My stomach grumbles.
“Fine. I’ll feed you food, but shut up about wanting more of naked Ty.”
When I finally reach Dad’s house, I head straight to the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, the cupboards are bare. He’s single now and left to his own devices, he often forgets to do normal people things like buy groceries. Or toilet paper, as I discover a few minutes later.
I wash my hands and root around in the fridge. I’m trying to figure out what to make for lunch when I hear a knock at the front door. I tense. Is it Ty? No. It couldn’t be. I didn’t even tell Fleur I was coming. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I woke up and got in my car to get coffee and the next thing I knew I was fifty miles toward Dad’s house.
“Wh-who is it?” I ask, cursing myself at my timidity. “Who is it?” I call more loudly.
“It’s Holly…Ara, is that you?”
Oh man. Dad’s soon-to-be ex. I take a quick inventory of the kitchen. There’s coffee, of course. Some oatmeal raisin cookies which Holly probably baked. God, I hope she baked them. I can’t feed her another woman’s cookies at a time like this.
“Ara?”
Fuck it. What Dad has will have to do.
“Coming.” I hurry over and open the door.
Holly greets me with a tremulous smile. “Ara. You look so beautiful.”
I’ve probably never looked worse, but I don’t argue. Holly’s eyes are red and puffy. Her whole face looks swollen. Poor woman looks like she spent the whole day, or more, crying her eyes out.
“Is your dad here?” She peers over my shoulder, sounding hopeful.
“No. He’s still in New York.”
“Oh.” Her lower lip trembles.
God, I don’t want her to start crying. “I was just about to make myself some lunch. Want something?”
She sniffs and nods. “I don’t suppose Arthur has bought any groceries, has he?”
She bustles inside, opening cupboards and doors. Turning around, she gives me a pleased look. “Wait here,” she instructs.
I wait and she reappears a minute later with two grocery bags. “Oh, Holly, no.”
“He’s got to eat. You know he d
oesn’t take care of himself, particularly when he’s lost in his work.” She brushes aside my further protestations.
Capitulating with a sigh, I help her stow the groceries.
How my dad gets all these women to care about him even after they break up is a total mystery. The only one who doesn’t still talk to him is my mom. But she’s difficult for anyone to get along with. Since we fight most of the time, we’ve limited our interaction to once a year. Thank goodness I got that out of the way a few weeks ago.
“How long will he be in New York?” Holly asks as she putters around the kitchen, putting staples in the pantry and fresh foods in the refrigerator.
My stomach growls again, reminding me that I haven’t eaten for hours. I grab a banana to appease it.
“I don’t know. Maybe a few more days?” I guess. “He’s staying with Stephen and Tracy. Apparently those two are getting married. Dad might be working on something as a wedding gift.”
“Those two make such a sweet couple,” she says. She stops in the middle of stacking yogurt in the fridge. “I wonder if I’ll get an invite.”
Her voice is so forlorn.
“It’s so far away anyway. Why would you want to fly to New York just for a wedding? It’d be boring and stuffy, too, what with all the clients Stephen would have to invite.”
Holly sniffles a few times, but manages to hold it together enough to nod. “Yes, it’d be terrible, wouldn’t it? I miss all those lovely get-togethers, though. No one calls me anymore,” she laments.
“What should we make for lunch?” I ask, desperate for a change of subject. “What’d you bring?”
“I thought I’d make fried chicken.”
My stomach leaps for joy. Holly’s fried chicken is amazing. Dad might’ve married her just for that.
“Let me know what I can do to help.” I hurry over to the sink and wash my hands.
Holly instructs me on how to make the breading, which is a mixture of cornstarch, baking soda, and salt. We dip the wings and then set them out to dry for an hour.
Holly takes a seat at the table while I pour us a cup of coffee.
“How’s school, dear?”
“It’s almost over,” I tell her. “Which means it’s great. I’ve finished a paper that is due at the end of the year and I’ve only got two finals—one in comparative art.”
“Oh, you won’t even need to study for that one.”
“No. It’s all good.”
“And are you going to continue to work for Marissa?”
“No. I’ve applied for a job in Philadelphia at the Morrison Gallery. She specializes in modern art from coastal artists.”
“What happened to the Dallas job? You didn’t like the city? The gallery?”
How sweet that she thinks I turned down the job. “They hired someone else.”
Holly’s mouth falls open. “They hired someone other than Arthur von de Menthe’s daughter? Don’t they know anything?”
“I never told them I was Artie’s daughter, Holly.”
“Why?” she cries in surprise. “That would be on the top of every résumé I sent!”
I swallow an impatient sigh and repeat the same line I’ve said a thousand times. “Because I don’t want a job solely because of who my dad is. I want to build my own reputation.”
“Oh, Ara. You’re so naïve.” She throws her hands up. “The real world is all about who you know, not what you know.”
“Maybe so,” I say lightly. Inside, I’m miffed. Holly was just lamenting missing Stephen’s wedding and other art parties because she’s no longer with my dad anymore. Doesn’t she see that if she had made her own connections instead of relying on Dad’s she would still be on the guest list?
“Talk to your dad. He’ll get you that Philadelphia job. He could stop there on his way back from New York.”
“Maybe.” I’m not going to argue with Holly.
I can tell the mention of my dad is already bringing back sad thoughts. Her big eyes are growing wet again. “You know why your dad went to New York? To avoid me. He can’t face me.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“I know I shouldn’t be saying this to you, but don’t fall in love, Ara. It’s terrible.”
Don’t I know it.
With a sigh, I get up and grab the tissue box. Tonight’s going to be a long night.
This is my punishment for running away.
Although, if I had stayed, I’d be the one crying.
26
Ty
After driving Knox to the airport, I stop by Ara’s apartment.
“Sorry, she’s not here,” Fleur says apologetically. “And no, I don’t know where she is. She said she needed to finish her paper and disappeared.”
I scrape a frustrated hand over my face, but hold in my angry words. It’s not Fleur’s fault that Ara’s acting like a scared rabbit.
“She’ll come around,” Fleur tries to reassure me. “Be patient.”
“I leave for the combine in five days,” I remind her.
“She’ll be back soon. I promise.”
I leave then, but when I return the next day, Ara’s conveniently gone. The day after is the same and my patience is gone.
“Are you hiding her from me?” I slap my hand against the door.
“No!” Fleur jumps out of my way. “I don’t know where she is. She texted me and said she was okay and not to worry.”
“Well, I am worried,” I seethe. I stalk to Ara’s bedroom, but it’s the same as when I left to go see Knox. Damn him for coming at such an inconvenient time.
“She’ll come around. She just doesn’t want to lose you.”
“Funny way she has of showing it. Text me when she comes home,” I order as I walk to the front door.
“I can’t do that,” Fleur protests.
“Why not?”
“Because that would violate the girlfriend code. Not to mention the roommate code.”
I stare at Fleur in disbelief.
She crosses her arms defensively. “I’m sorry, but you need to work it out with her directly.”
“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do by coming here every morning?” I explode.
“Stop shouting,” Fleur cries.
“Sorry.” I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I can see I’m not getting anywhere with her. Knox would probably laugh his ass off if he could see me now. “Tell her I stopped by.”
“If I feel like it.” Fleur steps back and slams the door in my face.
I decide to go to the training facility to work out. Enough pain and I won’t be dwelling on the fact that Ara’s avoiding me.
Unfortunately, Ace is there wearing a grim expression. I keep my headphones on as a clear sign I don’t want to talk. He ignores my silent cues.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
I pull off my headphones.
“Be agentless?” I suggest, only half joking.
“Sounds dangerous.” He taps a folder against his hand before offering it to me. “Your interview requests are in here.”
His sober tone suggests I’m going to see something I don’t like in there. “Any good endorsements?” I think back to Knox’s offer. “Did I get an offer from another car dealership?”
He doesn’t answer. I flip it open and scan the contents.
“This is it, huh?” There are only three. A few weeks ago, I had a couple hundred.
Ace hesitates and then says, “The car dealership decided to go with the lady who won the state fair pie-baking contest.”
I’m too surprised to respond. He slaps me on the back. “That endorsement deal was too small for you anyway. There’s still some media interested. It might make some sense to do them, even though the outlets are small.”
“Ridgewood Elementary School?” I read in disbelief.
Ace grimaces. “Maybe not that one.”
I shove the piece of paper back into the folder
and slap it shut. “Forget it. The media has moved on. Why stir up shit now?”
My scandal has been superseded by Carlysle Miller, whose hoverboard exploded. That wouldn’t have been problematic but for the fact that he was on it, smoking a joint. He’s still getting an invite to the draft. At 6’ 5”, the wide receiver is too fast and too big for teams to overlook, but the shock jock radio personalities are having a field day. A couple of years ago, a player fell from number one to number thirteen due to a weed scandal.
“Feel bad for Miller,” Ace says.
“Yup.” While I don’t wish bad press on anyone, I can’t lie that I’m not a little relieved that the focus isn’t on me.
“Take this then.” He hands me a pink-colored piece of paper. “Bryant made out a list of agents you might want to talk to.”
Reluctantly, I tuck paper away.
“Need me to set up some tackling dummies?”
“Nah. I’m just gonna do some lifting.” But I don’t even get out of the locker room before my parents call.
I knew it was coming, but I was dreading it. I drape my towel around my neck and answer.
“Ty! We just heard the news. Are you okay?” Mom worries.
“Of course. It’s no big deal.”
“I saw the articles about that Rhyann girl. What is going on?”
Of course Mom is more concerned about the girl than Dana. “It’s nothing, Ma. She wasn’t happy because I couldn’t spend enough time with her and I guess she decided to take it out online. I saw her just the other day with another guy so she’s not broken up about it.”
“But what about all these things she said? They’re all over the Twitters.”
I rub a tired hand over my face. “It’s nothing. I don’t think it matters to anyone anymore.” Although, given the rapid decline of interview requests, maybe it has.
“Still. It's not good. Maybe your dad and I should fly out.”
“No,” I say sharply. Then, because I love my mom and don’t want to hurt her feelings, I try for a more moderate tone. “I’m working out and focused on getting ready for the combine. It’s less than a week away.”
Played: A Novel (Gridiron Series Book 4) Page 18
