Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  “Want me to grab you for practice this afternoon?”

  I shake my head. The last thing I need is to be around other people.

  He nods as if he knew the answer and was only asking out of courtesy. He gives me a chaste, emotionless kiss on my forehead and then he’s gone. He deserves more than I can give him, but I also don’t want to lose him. I’m having a day today, but before him, they were all bad. He’s brought light in my life and I’d be a fool not to grab that while he’s still offering. My brain understands the reasoning, if only my heart would get in line.

  I sit in contemplation until my coffee turns cold. Not solving a damn thing, I finally go to the kitchen and notice the coffee still sitting in the pot. Bryson didn’t drink any this morning either, I realize, my shoulders drooping under the weight of exhaustion and guilt.

  “He couldn’t get out of here fast enough,” I mutter, cleaning my cup and the coffee pot.

  Dishes lead to wiping everything down, which begins the spiral into an all-out cleaning frenzy. Cabinets are emptied and rearranged, only to be changed again. Floors are scrubbed by hand, and pristine walls are wiped down. I know none of it needs to be done, but the minute my hands stop cleaning, they’ll reach for the computer. Bryson deserves better. Duncan deserves better. I deserve better.

  Forcing my hand still when I begin to scrub the counter tops for the third time, I rest my head on my forearms and let the tears fall. Trying to stop them now will only give me a headache, which will lead to the migraine medicine, and that ends in sleep.

  Surrendering to the emotions, I slide down the cabinet and cry, each tear that falls another crushing defeat. I weep on the kitchen floor until my sobs are waterless and the migraine I was hoping to avoid is battering against my skull.

  I claw my way up the cabinet, knowing there’s no way to avoid the medicine, computer, or bed. With a small sliver of hope, I opt for Tylenol instead of the prescription meds that will knock me out with certainty.

  Holding a cold bottle of water against my forehead, I sit on the couch and thrum my fingers on my laptop. As much grief as the videos of Duncan bring, the joy at seeing his face, hearing his voice, is equally present. It’s that comfort I’m seeking when I yield to the pull and log in.

  Picking the most lighthearted one I can find; I click play and let my fingers trace his handsome face. I appreciate the healthy look in his eyes, the fullness in his cheeks. His remission didn’t last long, but the bounce back his senior year in high school was remarkable—it gave us hope.

  “Show it to me again,” he insists.

  I twirl the small band of diamonds on my left hand as the recorded Olivia holds her left hand up in front of the screen, a proud look on her face.

  “You don’t think it’s too soon?” she asks as I swallow down my tears. Not as lighthearted as I remember.

  “I don’t want to waste another second of our lives, sweet cheeks. It’s already too short as it is. Leukemia has made me realize I have to live in the now. Are you having second thoughts?”

  “Never,” she says with such devotion. “My parents will never let me get married before I finish high school, though. They love you, but not that much.”

  I close my eyes, letting his laughter wash over me, sink into my soul, and repair the damage I’ve been causing myself these last few weeks, only to find the pain is not as deep as it has been.

  “I love you, sweet cheeks. Talk soon.”

  “I love you, too,” I whisper as the video ends. Opening my eyes with renewed hope, I find Bryson standing across the room.

  I close my laptop on instinct. I’ve felt guilt over how I feel about Bryson almost since the day he moved in, but when did that shame shift?

  He frowns but doesn’t get angry like I expect. He doesn’t act the way my mom does when she knows I’ve been watching the videos. Instead, he sits at the end of the couch and strokes the top of my foot absently with his thumb.

  “Will you ever share those with me?” His focus is still on my foot, and I appreciate the privacy he gives me as I struggle with his request.

  “They’re private.”

  “I understand.” The words are his, but the stutter of his hand betrays his placation. “You don’t have to love him in secret, Liv. Maybe if he was a part of us and not just a part of you, it would be easier for you to…” his voice trails off as he stands from the couch.

  “Bryson,” I say, reaching for him.

  “Never mind.” Frustration radiates off him as his hands rake through his hair. “A couple guys from the team are going to grab a few beers at Cody’s. Wanna come?”

  “I thought you had practice.” I know he’s missed more than one class while keeping me company, but practice is never something he misses.

  “It’s six in the evening.” Annoyance marks his tone. “Have you eaten today?”

  “I’m not a child, Bryson. I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” I hate speaking to him this way, but I’m not infirm and helpless.

  “Right. Cody’s?” I’m amazed he’s even bothering to ask again when it’s clear he wants nothing more than to escape. It serves as a bitter reminder that people don’t stick around. They didn’t a couple weeks after the funeral. I should expect no different from Bryson. His words are sweet and nurturing, but his actions are what speak the loudest. Disappointment in him for being so quick to leave hits me.

  “No, thank you.”

  He walks away without another word and I want to beg him to turn back around, to hold me, but to what end? I’ll let him comfort me tonight, only to push him away tomorrow.

  He deserves better. I lay my head back on the arm of the couch, refusing to let the tears fall as they begin to sting the back of my eyes. I’ve cried almost all day to no avail, no sense in wasting more, especially on a man who’s so quick to walk away from me.

  30

  Bryson

  “A beer. Whatever you have on tap is fine,” I tell the waitress when she walks up to the table.

  “ID,” she insists, her hand out.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? It wasn’t an issue last week.”

  “Oregon Liquor Control is here,” she informs, hitching her head toward the bar where a paunchy man in a bad suit is talking to the owner.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. “Coke is fine.”

  “Sorry, honey,” she whispers before heading back to the bar. “Things will be back to normal next week.”

  First walking in on Olivia, hearing her say I love you to him, and now a twenty-year-old can’t get a damn beer—what kind of college town is this?

  “That sucks,” Liam says, angling his beer up and taking a long pull. “Eventually, you’ll be a man.”

  I grab my nuts over my jeans. “I’m all man, asshole.”

  He grins around the mouth of his beer. “Shitty mood? I’ve got whiskey in the truck.”

  “Not the best idea right now. Thank you,” I tell the waitress when she places my Coke on the table in front of me.

  “Whiskey is always a good idea,” he corrects. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “I’m not talking to you about Olivia,” I warn.

  I look away from him, contemplating going back to the apartment and taking whatever scrap of attention Olivia is willing to give me. Seeing JJ walk in, I tilt my head up in acknowledgment.

  “I’ll tell you about that gorgeous little freshman,” he bargains. “You’ll want to hear about this thing she does with her legs behind her head.”

  “Keep your sex stories to yourself, dumbass,” JJ says, walking up and clapping me on the back while looking at Liam. “This isn’t the fucking locker room.”

  “Yeah?” Liam challenges. “Where’s SLS?”

  “Not today,” JJ warns.

  Liam’s eyes dart around the bar before standing up. “You two pussies are ruining my buzz. I’d rather hunt for hot chicks than sit here and listen to your sob stories about chicks you can’t have.”

  “Jackass,” JJ mutters as Liam leaves us for a s
mall group of girls near the jukebox.

  “Coke?” he asks, looking at the untouched glass in front of me.

  “Alcohol Commission is here,” I complain.

  “Gonna be a sucky week around campus,” he says, holding his hand up to the waitress to order a beer.

  “No doubt,” I agree. The waitress brings JJ’s beer as I watch the condensation drip down my glass, puddling at the base.

  “Vulture, six o’clock,” he cautions around the lip of his bottle.

  I groan when I see Simone sauntering up with what I used to see as a sexy smile on her face. This woman cannot take a hint.

  “Boys,” she purrs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

  I shake her off, forcing her to take a step back. My lungs burn from her overuse of perfume. How was I ever attracted to her? Caked on makeup, hair so full of product it’s more like a helmet, and a dark soul—all things I didn’t bother to see before opening my eyes and actually looking at Olivia. Things I took for granted until I had the opportunity to run my fingers through her soft, wavy hair and breathe in her delicate, feminine scent.

  “That’s not very nice,” she pouts at my rejection.

  I hitch a shoulder.

  “Hey, JJ.” She turns from jilted at my rebuff to angry when JJ flat-out ignores her.

  Simone sniffing around is the perfect way to round out my day. Yesterday was perfect—Olivia at practice, her lips on mine later at the apartment, my lips all over her. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel her pebbled flesh on my tongue.

  Five minutes against the door led to a half hour on the couch—mouths tasting, hands exploring, hips grinding. We kept it above the waist—second base, as she called it—but it was absolute bliss and pure torture. Exhausted from the crazy day, she fell asleep in my arms, only to wake up and regret every second of it.

  Refusing to take the hint, Simone continues to stand beside me. Advice from my mom and sister wage war in my head as I try to decide between mom’s, ‘always be respectful’, and Emmy’s, ‘some bitches deserve to be treated like shit’. Granted, my sister’s ire was mainly for the girl she caught her high school boyfriend fucking when she wouldn’t give it up, but still, seems fitting.

  Fortunately, Simone makes the choice for me.

  “I thought I recognized that girl from the diner but couldn’t place her. I realized the other day, she’s the crazy chick whose boyfriend offed himself on social media.” She smiles as if she’s just solved some big mystery rather than revealed how sick and twisted she is.

  I sense JJ stand up from his chair just as Liam cages her in over her shoulder.

  “I have the patience of a damn saint,” Liam whispers into her ear, just loud enough so our group can hear. “I let a lot of shit just roll off my back, but your dirty ass has crossed a line.”

  JJ steps in closer, and I’ve never been prouder of my teammates. I only wish Olivia were here to see them come to her defense.

  “Big mistake,” JJ taunts, a depraved look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

  “Daniels mentioned you disrespected Ollie the other day, and I was going to let bygones be bygones since I wasn’t there—was just going to stay away from you, but then you come in here and spew even more trash.” The calmness Liam is displaying is more concerning than a raging bull, and Simone feels the same way standing with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Could have just kept your mouth shut,” JJ adds.

  “But no,” Liam says. “You come in here and not only disrespect his girl, but you try to put a negative spin on the bravery Duncan Kelly showed? Tsk-tsk, little girl.”

  “Bad move, Simone,” JJ cuts in.

  I can’t find an ounce of concern for the tremble in her shoulders. She took it one step too far.

  “So,” Liam continues, “here we are with a situation that got out of control and a decision on how it should be handled. Should be a tough choice.”

  Her eyes widen, as if she realizes what’s going to happen. Apparently, I’m the only one in the dark.

  “Not a tough choice at all,” JJ says.

  “Nope,” Liam agrees. “Wanna give her the good news, Captain?”

  “Love to,” JJ begins. “No ball players.”

  “You wouldn’t!” she cries, stomping her foot like a petulant child who’s been grounded from her favorite toy.

  “No cleat chasers,” JJ continues.

  “I take it back!” she screeches, her wide eyes full of regret and fear. The tremble in her overdrawn lips is a plus.

  “What’s done is done,” Liam finishes.

  “Listen up!” JJ bellows, grabbing the attention of everyone in the bar. “Simone is blacklisted. Any guy caught messing with her and any girl caught hanging out with her is out!”

  His umpire like voice echoes off the walls as Simone wails beside me. I huff an empty laugh.

  “Time to move on, Simone,” Liam declares. “Your old ass was getting tired anyway.”

  Cheers erupt around the bar when she scurries out alone.

  “Now,” Liam says with a slap to my back, “back to looking for some freshman pussy.”

  I shake my head while watching him walk back to the same group of girls he was speaking to before Simone lost her shit.

  “That was intense,” I mutter, picking up my Coke and taking a sip for the first time.

  “It was a long time coming. She’s been harassing the other girls, threatening them to stay away from the players, staking her claim,” JJ explains. “Today was just the tipping point.”

  “Tainting the fish in your pond, huh?”

  He shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t have fish or a pond, man.”

  I leave it alone. The last thing I want is someone asking me about my situation with Olivia.

  It doesn’t take long before I’m ready to leave the bar. My mood and no alcohol make staying pointless. I grab cheeseburgers and fries for both Olivia and me before heading home, knowing she probably hasn’t eaten all day because of her mood.

  She’s in her room when I walk in, asleep in her bed. I head back to the living room, making quick work of my food and putting hers in the fridge.

  Even upset and unsure about where we’re heading, she told me she wanted me with her this morning. That’s the hope I hold to when I go back into her room, kick off my shoes, and climb in behind her on her bed.

  I pull her against my chest, hating that I spent the evening without her.

  “I missed you,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

  I hold her closer. “I missed you, too.”

  She stiffens suddenly and tries to wiggle out of my arms. I clench my eyes closed, immediately preparing myself for the rejection that follows when she thinks she’s talking to Duncan in her sleep.

  “You smell like a slut,” she hisses, scampering away from me.

  I lift my shoulder and turn my head to smell my shirt.

  “Fucking Simone,” I mutter, pulling the offending garment over my head.

  “Please leave,” she begs. Sighing dejectedly, she lowers her dull eyes, refusing me the gorgeous blue I’ve sought out for weeks now.

  I shake my head back and forth, hating that she’s pushing me away once again. Always thinking the worst and pushing me away.

  Her back against the wall, she hangs her head low, her disappointment clear in the dim light.

  Two steps forward and ten steps back, jumping to conclusions, never wanting to let me explain—it’s getting out of hand.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, my brows furrowed. “Wait—you think I fucked her?”

  “You did fuck her!” she roars, pain from my previous actions floating in her eyes. Her lip trembles, breaking down the wall I can’t seem to build where she’s concerned.

  “That was one night, Liv, and I’ve regretted it every single day since. You make me wish I’ve never touched another woman before you, but I can’t change my past any more than you can change yours.” I reach for her, only to ca
tch empty air as she scoots farther down the bed, out of my reach. “Simone was at the bar tonight, spouting evil shit. JJ and Liam tore into her, then blacklisted her. She managed to put her arm around my shoulder once before I pushed her away.”

  Her eyes widen and she finally makes full eye contact with me. “Blacklisted?”

  I nod. “Listen—”

  She holds her hand up, halting me. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I do,” I insist. “If you crawled into bed with me smelling like some other man, I’d lose my shit. You are the only woman I see, the only woman I want to spend every waking hour with. I don’t want you to doubt that. I don’t want you to doubt me. I’m here, Liv.”

  Her eyes dart between both of mine, searching for truth, deception.

  “I’ll go,” I say, getting out of the bed. Why would I think such an incredibly shitty day would turn around and end on a positive note?

  “Come back after you shower,” she murmurs, her eyes lifting to mine.

  Relief settles in my belly, and the tension in my shoulders slowly melts away at her words—an olive branch after such a stressful day.

  I’ve never showered so fast in my life.

  31

  Olivia

  “You’re back.” I smile at Ainsley as she sits down beside me in the stands.

  “Small doses of socialization seem to work best for me these days.”

  She nods. “I understand. Maybe next time, it won’t be weeks before I see you again.”

  I turn my head back to the Beaver’s practice without answering her. When I was here two weeks ago, I promised I’d meet up with her, only to turn around and avoid her calls and make excuses about leaving the apartment. When I said the words, I meant every one, but it’s been too easy to fall back into the routine of staying home and only leaving when Bryson offers.