I picture him feeling as hurt as I am right now. Maybe Quest is right. This is what he deserves. He’s been playing me all along. After all, didn’t I try and help him? I put my career at risk, for heaven’s sake. I helped him stop gambling. This is how he repays me?
Cleat chaser? They come and go?
On second thought, I turn to Quest to tell him to go to hell but he holds my cheeks and places a wet kiss on my lips with Matt pressed at my back.
Quest looks to Matt and they both start laughing.
Quest holds up his hand for another drink then sits down. “When old Jackson sees that photo, he’s going to flip his lid. Thank you, darlin’. You just earned us a hundred bucks.”
My ears burn. “From whom?”
They point to Jackson’s new trainer who raises his glass to me with a lewd wink.
“He bet we couldn’t get you to kiss one of us.”
I moan. “I didn’t. You kissed me. I thought you were Jack’s friends.”
“We are. James said you were cheating on him so we’re showing him how easy you are.”
“Ohhh! You... you motherfucking assholes.” Face heated and totally mortified, I take my beer, pour it into a glass and put it to my lips as if to drink.
Then, I splash it onto his crotch. Turning on a heel I walk away, up the elevator and collapse in my room.
Once there, I swear off men forever.
Despite all my resolve, I’m sobbing when Kira comes back and asks me what’s wrong. She’s my best friend but I’m too embarrassed to tell her what a fool I am.
I give her the first story my drunken brain comes up with. “It’s Jackson, He’s over fifty thousand in debt and some nasty bad guys are gunning for him, with real guns. I gave him all the money I have but I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“He needs to talk to the police.” Kira’s eyes go wide.
“That’s exactly what I said but he said it would ruin his chances at getting into the draft. He swears he’s learned his lesson. He hasn’t gambled since we met.”
“Listen Star, I don’t like this. You could get hurt.”
“Can you tell Ryan? Maybe he can talk some sense into him.”
Put that in your pipe, and smoke it, Farnsworth. Let’s see how you like it when people think you’re something you’re not.
Chapter 17
Star
I have to pull my eyelashes apart so I can open my lids to see the time. Oh shit, the bus leaves in fifteen minutes. Stomach churning, I make my way to the bathroom, start the shower, and have a glass of water.
The room spins. Damn, being a lightweight sucks on mornings like this. Kira’s already packed. Her eyes are puffy from our crying jag that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. She looks about as awful as I feel. At least she’s dressed.
I jump into the shower, wash real fast, then slide into jeans and a t-shirt without makeup. Because I’ve sworn off men, war paint no longer matters.
After shoving everything into my knapsack, I make hotel room coffee. It tastes like shit and with no real milk or cream, it’s even worse. So fortified, we check out of our rooms and get into the waiting bus.
Both of us sit in the very front seat. From here, I can tap the driver to pull over if I think I’m going to puke. We both agreed to put on our headphones and watch a movie on my tablet. That way, we can avoid the snarky comments bound to come our way.
I’d consider dropping marching band but it’s my only extra-curricular activity and colleges look for well-rounded individuals. I close my eyes when the bus goes over a rough patch of pavement, my stomach lurching.
Damn it. I am never drinking again.
Thinking of beer, I recall Matt and Quest, and my eyes tear again. How could they be so mean? Last night, Kira took their side. She thinks all the blame falls on the trainer, James but I disagree.
I’ve never been a cleat chaser. For heaven’s sake. What with band practice and all the courses I take, I barely sleep, let alone date. Everyone knows I’m a study-nerd. Wasn’t that the point of last summer? To see if I could change?
Look where it got me. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. Now, I’m a football whore. What the fuck, over?
Despite all my troubles, I can’t help but chuckle as The Dude laments his missing rug.
I tap Star and we both recite our favorite line with our earbuds on. “It really tied the room together.”
Soon, with so little sleep the night before, I close my eyes. When I wake, the bus is grinding gears and pulling into campus. Sitting in front, we escape without having to face the others.
The second the doors open, we bolt down the stairs. We’re halfway across campus by the time the football players debark.
Later, when Ryan pounds on our apartment door, I can’t help but overhear. Of course, those two lovebirds make up because he isn’t a complete asshole. I try not to listen in but when she mentions Jackson, I open my door a crack while she tells him about the gambling.
“I’ll take care of it.” Kira’s boyfriend sounds pissed.
Good. I know maybe I’m being childish but my ex and his agent made it sound like I sleep around. Nothing could be further from the truth. I moan, lay back on my bed, and throw a pillow over my head. The cheerleaders and flag girls will never let me live this down.
I count the days until Thanksgiving by opening my computer calendar. Nine more fucking weeks of pure hell.
Shit. Opening up my Psychology book, I dive in. From now on, this is my life. Studying and marching band.
Thank God Jackson and I have no classes together. In addition, I stay clear of the Student Union. You might figure my broken heart would start to heal but instead, every time I see him, the wound opens and pain bleeds freely.
Finally, unable to deal, I call old Mrs. Griswold and make an appointment.
“Hello, Star. Sit, sit.” She points to the familiar floral comfy couch.
Knowing the drill, I lean back and stare at the pattern made by the dots in the drop ceiling.
“What’s up? We haven’t talked for ages.” Her soft, kind voice calms me.
Even so, I heave a deep sigh, feeling like a failure for not being able to fix my life on my own
“Sad, huh?”
“Yeah. Real sad.” I grab the box of tissues at the all-too-familiar sting in my eyes and the drippy nose.
I blow, take a deep breath, and confess, “I fell in love.”
It takes me almost the whole hour to tell my story. As I do, I note all the mistakes I’ve made and stop counting around fifty.
“How come I feel worse, not better?” I close my eyes, wishing I turn back the clock and start the semester over.
“Owning up to our own behavior is not easy, dear.”
“He was a total ass.”
“From what you said, it was mostly his agent.”
“He could’ve stood up for me.” I turn toward her, annoyed she took Jackson’s side.
“Did you give him a chance?” Her brows raise,
“By then, it was too late. Matt and Quest ambushed me. I couldn’t bear to have him think I would sleep around.”
“Seems to me, you’re doing a lot of assuming. Have you talked to him since?”
“God, no. But he hasn’t tried to call me, either.” I sit up on the couch, cross my arms, and pout.
“Didn’t you say you blocked his calls?”
“Why didn’t he try to talk to me in person?”
She nods and glances up at the clock. “Next week?”
“No, I think I’m good, I know what I need to do. Thanks, Mrs. Griswold” I stand and give her a hug. “You’re the best.”
“My pleasure, sweetheart. You’ve come so far. Don’t second guess yourself, okay. You can do this.”
Chapter 18
Jackson
“What is this?” With Ryan’s help, I corner Matt and Quest in the shower room.
I thrust the picture of my girl sandwiched between them not caring if the steam ruins my phone. Right now, I’d
shove it up their asses if I thought it’d do any good.
“Fuck off. We were doing you a favor.” Our punter tries to push me aside but Matt stays, eyes narrowed.
“Favor? What the fuck do you mean by that?” Fists clenched, I get in his face.
“She’s been cheating on you.”
“With who? Huh? Who’d you see her with?”
“Ask that asshole trainer of yours.” Matt, bigger than both me and Ryan, steps forward.
“What the hell does James have to do with you messing with my girl?” I wipe away the sweat dripping off my brow as a wave of nausea sucks at my gut.
Matt shoves my chest. “He told us your pink-haired chick was sleeping around on you and you needed to see how easy she is. He paid us a hundred bucks for getting her to kiss me.”
“She kissed you?” My heart sinks.
Quest grabs my shoulder and turns me toward him. “Me. I was the one who kissed her but she wanted it.”
I punch the tiles right beside his head. If it weren’t for my martial arts training, my fist would’ve been in his jaw, at his stomach, and then I would’ve kicked out his kneecaps.
Blood drips from my knuckles and I flex my hand, thanking whatever God exists I didn’t break it. With my ears pounding and heart racing, I can’t even think.
Quest put his lips on Star.
“Did you and she?” I can’t even get the words out or look the punter in the eye.
He punches me in the arm. “Hell no. She poured a drink on my crotch and left.”
Ryan puts his palms up, the universal sign for peace. “Not their fault, Jacks. That agent of yours wants Star gone.”
I shake my head, swallowing my pride and fury while the three watch me with eyes narrowed and faces grim.
“What? We’re done here.” I point first to Matt, then Quest. “Don’t ever mess with her again, you hear me?”
They grumble their way out the door.
Once gone, Ryan glares. “You’re blaming the wrong guy.”
“What about the fucking code?” I run the shower and step under the stream of water.
“He didn’t sleep with her and it sounds to me like she held her own. What the fuck happened between you and her? I thought you were good.”
“About as good as you and the red head.” I pour some shower gel into a palm and wash off the filth of the game.
He steps into the stall next to mine. “Ouch. What’re you going to do about your trainer?”
“I have no fucking clue. He holds all the cards. He’s footing the bill for Egan’s insulin until I get drafted.”
“You sign anything with him?”
“Yeah. For a year, he’s officially my trainer with the agreement to take a huge piece of my income when I sign.”
“If you sign.”
“If? No ifs bud. We got this.”
“Not if our team isn’t behind us. C’mon. You need to buy those two a beer and apologize. Did you fuck up your hand?”
I flex it again, counting my blessings. “Nothing a little ice won’t take care of.”
“You need to get that temper of yours under control.”
I snort out an angry hiss. “It was. You should see me when I lose it.”
Clean, I grab my towel ready to blow this joint but Ryan grabs my shoulder from behind. “While I got you alone, there’s one more thing we need to talk about. If you got all your bills paid off, why are you still gambling?”
“I’m not.”
My pal tips his head, not believing me.
“What? I’ll show you my phone. Check it out for yourself.”
He follows me into the locker room. There, he swipes away until he sighs and his eyes raise to mine. “Star told Kira you were in deep, like 50 K deep.”
“I was, but I told her it was all paid off. Jeesh. Make sure Kira knows. I don’t need rumors to start flying. Dammit. Why would she-”
“Hell hath no fury…”
“Shit. That was a low blow.”
“As low as you calling her a cleat-chaser?”
“I didn’t, James did.”
“Did y’all defend her?” Ryan’s pissed but he has no clue what went down.
I sit on a bench, tie up my sneakers, and try to explain. “I didn’t want him to think she was important to me. I thought he’d back off. Fuck it, I screwed up big time, didn’t I?”
Shaking his head, he mumbles, and finally gets out of my face.
Alone at last, I call her but the phone rings with no answer. Hell, she’s blocked me and maybe, it’s for the best. I need to focus on football, declare the draft, and play nicely with the thug.
She’s better off without me.
Chapter 19
Jackson
Shit.
I sit through Algebra wishing like hell I was someplace else. Even with all my tutor’s help, this test is tough. When the assistant professor clears his throat, I guess at the last answer and hand in my paper.
“What did you think?” Stefan frowns at the partially empty answer sheet.
I shrug. “Did my best.”
“No worries. You just need to pass. You’ve submitted homework which is two thirds of your grade. Want me to grade it here?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
While he takes a red pen to my paper, I pace in front of the window facing the Student Union.
For three weeks Star’s been avoiding me but not today. “I got to go. Sorry.”
Stefan glances up. “It’s okay. You passed.”
“Awesome. Later.” I run out of the room, fly down the stairs, and check up and down the narrow college streets.
In the dim, dusky light and with clouds gathering, I hone in on her pink hair and sprint down the street. Maybe we can work this out.
When she turns, strange eyes grow wide and a mouth I don’t recognize opens.
“Sorry. I, uh, thought you were someone else.” Quickly, I walk away, my stupid heart a fucking mess.
The practice field is the only place where I can banish the ghost of her presence so I change my clothes and run laps. I need to be the fastest in this year’s forty yard dash. That’s the best way to guarantee my placing. Chris joins me with a stop watch and helps me get off the block.
“Good, good.” He throws me a bottle of Gatorade and I sit for a minute before I join the rest of the team and start catching.
Without an invite, he eases down onto the bench. “How’s things?”
I shrug. “Okay, I guess.” By now, everyone knows I’m pretty messed up since Star left my sorry ass.
I glance over at the band, marching to my girl’s drum on the other half of the field. They’re forming some strange patterns. From here, it looks random but from the seats, I’m sure it will be award-winning.
A glimpse of pink and my fucking heart clenches. I want her back in my life, between my sheets, and sharing some laughs. Hell, she can cure me of some other made-up addiction. I don’t care. Life is miserable without her.
I think back to how we made love and it makes me fucking nuts. To ease my pain, girls have thrown themselves at me but my cock doesn’t stir. It’s like he’s out of order or gone on vacation until I see pink.
Then, he goes rock hard.
I grab my towel, wipe the sweat off my brow, and stand next to Coach directing Ryan’s throws.
“Get in there, Jackson. Show the kid how it’s done.”
I take the place of a sophomore. He hasn’t figured out how our quarterback’s bullets do this weird spin that causes them to go high at the very last second.
“Need to jump, dude.” I pat him on his shoulder pads and give him a thumb toward the bench.
The kid shakes his head. “How the hell does he do it?”
“Fucking magic. Just anticipate.” I shout down the field, “Give me all you got, you pussy-whipped bastard.”
Ryan grins and points way down the field. Without giving me time to get up to speed, he throws, trying to mess with my head.
Fuck him. I dash down t
he field, past the band, and into the end zone. There, I jump up as the ball arrives.
Everyone cheers except the one who matters most. She turns her head toward the locker rooms so I can’t see her face.
Her avoidance burns me so bad I take the ball and trot by the percussionists as I make my way back to the rest of the team.
As the rest of the section parts like the Red Sea, Kira pokes Star with her mallet and says, “For God’s sake, talk to him.”
I could kiss her for that.
Star turns, her eyes lift, and pink lips turn down. “Nice catch.”
Sarcasm? Don’t I deserve better? “Thanks. Can we talk? Later? After practice?”
She nods. “Whatever. Amphitheater?
“I’ll be there.”
Well, thank Fuck.
Smiling for the first time in weeks, I can’t wait for practice to end. I need to explain what went down and why so she won’t have to keep seeing old Mrs. Griswold.
It’s almost nine by the time we finish. I’d text but she’s blocked my number.
When I get there, she’s reading on her tablet, taking notes under the amphitheater’s globe lights.
Her eyes lift, her mouth opens, and she takes me in. I got on a tight t-shirt and low cut khaki’s. More than one cheerleader has remarked it’s the outfit they like best. I hope it works on her because I’m running out of options.
Damn. I forgot how beautiful Star’s eyes are. Like the earth viewed from outer space, blue orbs stare, growing wider as I approach.
All the pretty speeches I rehearsed scatter in the breeze and crickets chitter, scolding me for being a complete moron.
I squat and take her hand. “Damn. I’ve missed you.”
“Me too.” When she puts her other hand atop mine, my heart skips a beat. Is she going to forgive me?
“I, ah. Shit.” I pull her pretty pink nails to my mouth and kiss them. “I, shit. I’m sorry. I should’ve punched James’ lights out for doing what he did.”
Her brows raise. “Is he still your trainer?” She air-quotes his title, totally justified in doing so.
“I got no choice. Can I sit?” I point to the seat next to hers, occupied by her purse, sweater, laptop, and a couple books.
Red Flag (FSCU Pitbulls Book 2) Page 9
