Brayden Kendricks is the last man I want to find myself drawn to.
And yet...I am. There doesn’t seem to be a way to extinguish the combustible chemistry between us. Even after freshman year and all the manwhoring I’ve been privy to. I want to shake my head in disgust. Not at him, but at myself for being one of those stupid girls I like to glare at.
Why him?
The question is asked almost desperately.
Why am I so attuned to a guy who sleeps around like it’s his job and treats girls like they’re throwaways?
It only makes me feel more pathetic. And that’s the last thing I need while battling a raging hangover.
“Hey,” he says when I fail to respond, “what’s happening here?” A strange urgency fills his voice. “Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
I realize by the steely look in his eyes that he won’t be dropping the subject until I give him the answers he’s searching for, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. “There’s nothing going on.”
His dark eyes sharpen. “That’s doubtful. If I’ve learned anything about you, it’s that there is always something going on up here.” He gently taps the side of my head with his finger. “How about you tell me, and I’ll decide for myself.”
When I huff out an irritated breath, his grip tightens on my chin, holding me firmly in place. We stare silently as the tension ratchets up until it becomes almost unbearable. Any moment, I’m going to burst into flames. This unwanted attraction that floods through me at his barest touch is ridiculous. “We hooked up freshman year.”
Shock washes over his features. “We slept together?”
I shake my head and glance away. “No, it never went that far. We fooled around for a while and then you asked for my number and told me you would text. Shocker, you never bothered. The next night, I saw you making out with someone else.” My tone is clipped. The last thing I want is for him to realize how much it wounded me.
His fingers turn slack before his hand falls away and he leans against the seat, almost as if he’s trying to put as much space between us as possible. Emotion flickers across his face as his eyes turn cloudy. “I’m sorry, Syd. I don’t remember.”
I almost snort. That much is embarrassingly obvious. The fact that I was entirely forgettable makes me feel like even more of a pathetic loser.
I jerk my shoulders, attempting to play off the incident even though it’s much too late for that. If it didn’t matter, I wouldn’t have brought it up. It would be a non-issue that we could joke about. But we both realize that’s not the case.
Brayden lays his hand over mine, swallowing my smaller one up. Even though I don’t want it to, the unwelcome energy we always seem to generate sparks to life. Attempting to tamp it down doesn’t do a damn bit of good.
Another heavy silence crashes over us. If I didn’t know better, I’d suspect he might actually be filled with remorse. But I’m sure that’s more wishful thinking on my part than anything else.
“I was really messed up freshman year.” There’s a pause. It’s almost as if Brayden is attempting to pick and choose his words carefully. “A year before that, I lost someone really important to me. Instead of dealing with the grief the way I should have, I attempted to numb it with alcohol and girls.” He gives me a slight smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. In no way is it a full-on, panty-dropping Brayden Kendricks smile. The very same one that leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake. “It didn’t work. In fact, it only made everything worse.”
His brutal honesty takes me by surprise. This is in no way the bullshit excuse I was expecting from him.
Not even close.
The air gets sucked from my lungs, making it impossible to breathe. It’s painful to realize that we have more in common than I ever imagined. The difference is how we dealt with our grief.
I immersed myself in soccer. The only time I felt whole was on the field. It didn’t matter if it was for practice or a game. When I was on the turf, I could forget about everything. I was forced to set all of my heartache aside and live in the moment. I couldn’t get lost in the thorny tangle of my thoughts. I couldn’t rail at a higher power for stealing my brother. Without soccer, I have no idea how I would have made it through that difficult period in my life.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. If there’s anyone who understands what it feels like to lose a piece of your heart, it’s me. It’s a pain I’m intimately acquainted with.
Now it’s Brayden’s turn to jerk his shoulders and act like it’s no big deal when clearly nothing could be further from the truth. He shifts awkwardly on his seat as if already regretting the overshare. I’ve been there too many times to count. Grief and loss make people uncomfortable. Especially those who haven’t experienced it.
Sympathy floods through me, prompting me to admit, “I lost someone, too.” I blink away the moisture that attempts to gather in my eyes. “It sucks. Everyone tells you that it gets better, but it doesn’t. Not really.”
His eyes change, losing some of the guardedness that fills them as he focuses on me with sharp intensity. “No, it doesn’t.”
Another quiet moment falls over us, but this one isn’t racked with tension.
His gaze flicks away before resettling on mine. “The death was sudden, and I didn’t handle it well. There were so many coaches, counselors, and teachers who reached out, but I pushed them away. I couldn’t deal with all their stupid platitudes. Like that made anything better.”
I snort out a mirthless laugh and shake my head. “I can’t tell you how many times someone said he’s not really gone. He’ll live on in your heart forever.”
His lips flatten. “Yeah. What the hell kind of thing is that to say? Guess what? I don’t want him in my heart. I want him in my life. Is that so difficult to comprehend?”
“No.” I shake my head, understanding exactly what he means. “Or how about he wouldn’t want you to be sad?”
“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “I guess I shouldn’t be sad then. I’ll just move it along so that my grief doesn’t make you uncomfortable.”
“Someone actually had the balls to tell me that, in the end, this experience will make me stronger.”
His brows rise. “Did you punch them in the face?”
“No,” my lips tremble at the corners, “but I wanted to.”
“I probably would have,” he says, after considering it for a long moment. “That’s a shit comment.”
My head spins as we lapse into silence. I never expected to show up here and share an intense moment with Brayden. It feels almost surreal. How do we have something so tragic in common? How is it that he’s one of the few who understand exactly how I feel about an experience I don’t share with other people?
It doesn’t make sense.
“Freshman year was such a blur. Sometimes, I’m not sure how I made it through without flunking out and losing my athletic scholarship. I partied too much and at one point, stopped attending classes.”
My mind tumbles back to our first year at Western. Every weekend, Brayden was out partying, living it up. Girls hung all over him and there was always a smile plastered across his handsome face as if he were enjoying his college experience to the fullest. It was easy to arrive at the assumption that he was just another obnoxious athlete, content to sit back and soak up all the adoration his position on the team afforded him. I attended every home football game. He performed on the field as if life was perfect. If he hadn’t told me about this tragedy, I would never have suspected that Brayden was drinking and sleeping around in an attempt to numb his grief.
But that’s what people in pain do, right?
They ignore it. Bury it. Find things to make them forget. I’m guilty of doing the same. The only difference is that I threw myself into soccer. I also had to be strong for Lucus.
It’s only now that I realize he isn’t the fuck boy I originally pegged him to be. I’ve spent the last three years despising the dark-haired football player and doing everythi
ng in my power to avoid him. It’s jarring to realize that I just might have to alter my perception.
“Look, Sydney, I’m sorry if I hurt you. I guess your behavior makes a lot more sense.” He tilts his head. “I could never figure out why you hated me so much.”
I release a steady breath, unsure how to respond. When he squeezes my fingers, my gaze drops to them, surprised to find his larger hand still holding mine.
“If it were possible to go back and change the past, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
“If we could go back and change the past,” I say lightly, “I think we’d both change more important things.”
His expression turns somber as he nods. “You’re right, we would.”
Thick emotion wells in my throat until it becomes unbearable. Brayden and I have conversed countless times before, but this is the first time it feels real. Like we’ve inadvertently stripped away all the pretenses we usually arm ourselves with. It’s a disconcerting sensation and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Do you think it’s possible for us to start over with a clean slate?” he asks quietly.
My teeth sink into my lower lip as I slowly turn the idea over in my head. Can I really say no? Even more telling than that, I don’t want to. My heart goes out to Brayden for the loss he suffered. “Yeah, of course. Let’s forget about it.”
He nods. “Good.”
Even though I’m not ready for our relationship to morph into something new, it feels like we’re entering uncharted territory.
Chapter Fourteen
Sydney
“Coach and I were going through game film yesterday,” Demi says as we move across the cement path that cuts through campus on our way to class. “I think USC will be tough to beat. They’re more prepared than they were last season. Plus, they recruited a star player from Connecticut. Even though she’s a freshman, the girl is insane.”
I nod, attempting to focus on the upcoming game. Like Demi, I met with Coach yesterday to pour over game film. On every team, there are always a couple players that we need to watch out for. So far this season, USC has won all their conference games. Demi’s right, it’ll be a tough match, but I think we’re prepared.
“Now that Annica is out with an injury, the team is gelling better and we’re more focused.”
When the auburn-haired girl came in as a freshman two years ago, Demi took our younger teammate under her wing. They were an unstoppable duo on the field. But then jealousy got in the way and Annica did everything in her power to rip Demi down. Not only did she attempt to turn the younger girls against her, but the little bitch went after all the guys Demi spent time with. Just when you thought that Annica’s behavior couldn’t sink any lower, she took it a step further with those rumors.
I’ve never been one to put too much stock in karma, but in the end, that girl got exactly what she deserved. And that would be a broken ankle from a night out drinking. Now that she’s no longer on the field, causing havoc, most of our younger teammates have fallen into line. Without Annica constantly talking shit and stirring up trouble, there’s once again peace in the kingdom.
“I overheard Coach tell the trainer that Annica’s doctors aren’t sure if she’ll be able to play at the same level she did before the accident. It’ll take a lot of physical therapy and hard work on her part to even have a shot.”
I shrug. As far as I’m concerned, you reap what you sow. And that girl sowed a whole hell of a lot of deceit and trouble.
“Even if she does come back,” I say, “we’ll be long gone. We’ll never have to worry—”
I squeak in surprise when a brawny arm is slung around my shoulders, and I’m hauled against a rock-solid body.
What the—
Before I can make sense of what’s happening, firm lips crash into mine. When I gasp and my mouth opens, a velvety soft tongue slips inside to tangle with my own. The way they mingle together is almost enough to make me forget we’re in the middle of campus. In fact, I’m a little embarrassed to admit that all of the noise and chatter surrounding me instantly fades to the background.
It’s only when the catcalls and whistles grow more insistent that they finally penetrate the thick haze that has descended, clouding my better judgment before propelling me back to the present with a painful thud. I blink and attempt to find my bearings. It’s only then that Brayden pulls away enough to search my gaze.
Demi clears her throat when I continue to stare. “So,” she hitches her thumb over her shoulder, “I’m gonna get moving.”
“All right,” I mumble, still feeling stunned, which is ridiculous. It’s not like I haven’t been kissed before. “Are we still planning to meet up for lunch?”
“Are you sure you’ll be free?” she asks with a smirk, humor threading its way through her voice.
Heat slams into my cheeks and I nearly wince. I really need to get a grip. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”
Brayden grins as if realizing how easily he was able to muddle my thoughts.
It takes everything I have inside me to tamp down the rioting emotion attempting to break free. Our conversation at the diner has only complicated matters. It was so much easier to keep my attraction in check when I thought Brayden was nothing more than a conceited jackass who enjoyed nailing as many girls as possible. Now that I know the truth and everything he’s struggled with over the years, my heart has undeniably been cracked open. Whether he realizes it or not, he’s managed to crawl inside and burrow there.
And that cannot be allowed.
Maybe we’ve straightened out the past and I’ve let go of my anger, but it doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t a real relationship. We aren’t going out. In a couple weeks, we’ll pretend to break up and life will go back to normal. It would be smart to remember that and not read too much into the affectionate gesture. That kiss was nothing more than the PDA we agreed to.
With his arm wrapped around me, we stroll toward our accounting class. It’s disconcerting how people’s heads swivel in our direction as we walk by. Students call out greetings to Brayden, attempting to grab his attention before waving. We might both be Division I athletes at Western, but I’m able to move around campus without a hint of fanfare. Brayden, on the other hand?
He can’t walk ten steps without attracting interest. The guy is recognized everywhere. Probably even the bathroom. It used to aggravate the hell out of me that the male athletes around here received so much love. And not just the football players either, although they do receive the most. Hockey, baseball, basketball, even lacrosse...they all have their fair share of jersey chasers, cleat sniffers, and puck bunnies.
Now I’m experiencing this craziness firsthand and realize how much I dislike the intense scrutiny. I enjoy moving through the crowd anonymously. I wouldn’t always want to be on. People are always watching, waiting for something to happen, something that will feed the gossip mill. Even at the diner, people were stopping by to say hello or talk about the game. It was annoying, but Brayden handled it with ease and humility, never seeming bothered by the attention. Maybe he didn’t want the waitress to hover over us, but he was never rude about it.
Ethan was a baseball player, and his fandom wasn’t nearly at this level.
And that, I remind myself, is precisely why Brayden kissed me in front of everyone. He knows that it’ll spread like wildfire and hopefully get back to Kira, helping to give this sham of a relationship authenticity.
Once my heart stops racing, I clear my throat. “Was that really necessary? A peck on the cheek would have gotten the job done.”
“Are you kidding?” he scoffs good naturedly, beaming a smile in my direction. “When I’m trying to sell something, I go all the way. There’s no half-assing it for me.”
If I needed anything more to confirm my suspicions, that comment does the trick.
“Nine o’clock,” Brayden murmurs. “There she is.”
My gaze roves over the groups of students loitering outside the business building. It o
nly takes a moment to seek out Kira in the crowd. Her gaze is already trained on us. The closer we get to the building, the more her brows pinch together.
“Well, damn. I was hoping that after this weekend she would have gotten the hint loud and clear.” All of his previous lightheartedness disappears.
By the intensity of her expression, I’m guessing that’s not the case.
“I’m sure after a week or two, she’ll move on,” I murmur.
“I don’t know.” His arm tightens around me, drawing me closer. “I’ve run into some pretty persistent chicks, but nothing like this. Honestly, I’ll be glad to graduate in the spring just to get away from her.”
Wow. That’s really sad. Guilt flickers through me. And here I’d thought he would probably be basking in all the female attention. Instead, he’s attempting to deter it.
My mind goes to what it will be like when Brayden gets drafted. “Don’t you think it’ll be ten times worse once you’re playing in the NFL?”
He jerks his shoulders. “I don’t know. Probably. I try not to think that far ahead. Right now, I’m concerned about making it to the next level. Once I get there, then I’ll worry about it. If it even happens.”
Is Brayden serious?
With his looks and skills on the field?
He’ll be propelled to super stardom. It’s a sure bet that women will be crawling out of the woodwork, attempting to capture his attention.
“Who knows,” I joke, “maybe she’ll follow you wherever you go.”
The look of horror that flashes across his face is enough to make me laugh. “Aww, it’s so hard to be Brayden.”
He tugs me close enough to bury his face against my neck. When his teeth sink into the delicate flesh, I squeal and attempt to push him away. For a moment, I forget all about the stalker-girl watching us.
“Brayden?” a soft voice interrupts.
Campus Heartthrob (The Campus Series Book 2) Page 9
