Next Man Up (Making the Score Football Romance Book 2)

by Tawdra Kandle

  I heaved a sigh and rolled my eyes, scooting off the bed to get away from him. Sitting too close to Eli for too long wasn’t going to be good for either of us.

  “Yes, we’re friends, but if you make a big fucking deal about it, I’m going to be your ex-friend. Now, can we get back to Shakespeare, or do you need to boohoo a little more?” I gave a little shake. “All this touchy-feeling shit gives me the jitters.”

  “All right, all right.” He smiled. “Tell me something, though. As a friend . . .” He arched his eyebrows, emphasizing the word. “Can I ask if you’d like to talk about why you’re thinking of avoiding your mother this weekend?”

  “You can ask.” I walked back to the desk, keeping my back to Eli. “I don’t want to talk about it, though. There’s nothing deep here. It’s basically cowardice. Being around Lottie now makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like being uncomfortable, so I might wait until I know she’s back at the facility.”

  “Why? Is she abusive? Does she treat you badly?” I could hear the tentative curiosity in his tone.

  “No, not abusive. But the older I’ve gotten, the harder it’s been for Lottie to relate to me. Part of her is aware that I’m her child. But her doctors believe that that part might associate me with a violent incident. It’s entirely possible that I was conceived in a rape.” I tried to keep my voice matter-of-fact. “So it’s easier for her to deny that I’m that baby. However, then she can’t place me. I’m the piece that doesn’t fit. It can make her even more volatile.”

  “Can your grandparents handle her if you’re not there, though?”

  “My uncles and aunts are going to be there, just in case. That’s the only way she can come home now. They’ll stay the weekend, whether or not I go home.” I picked up my pen. “On this consent essay, are you planning to focus on Hippolyta and Theseus, or Helena and Demetrius?”

  “Zel, you know, it’s okay for you to stay away to protect yourself.” Eli spoke softly. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

  I gave a short laugh, pressing my lips together. “Thanks, friend. I appreciate that. And I’ll do my best.” I sniffed a little, trying not to cry, trying to find my center again. “But I don’t want to talk about it. Thanks for understanding that.”

  “Sure, Zel. That’s what friends are for.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tuck

  “Hey, Tuck.” The door to my room opened just as I was reaching for the knob, and Nate strolled inside. “You heading out somewhere?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I lifted my Shakespeare folio. “Shakespeare final in two days. I’m going over to study with Zelda.”

  “Oh.” Nate studied me, frowning. “Why didn’t she just come down here?”

  I was unreasonably irritated by the third degree my roommate was giving me. “Because we didn’t want to bother you. She has more room in the suite. And after two days of studying for my other exams, I’m going stir crazy.” I rubbed my jaw. “I need to get some air. So I’m just going to wheel over to their dorm. I’ll be back later.”

  “Okay.” Nate leaned against his desk. “I get that. But you know, it never bothers me when anyone comes over here, Tuck. This is your room, too. I can always go somewhere else if you need me to go.”

  “No, it’s fine. I really do need to get out.” I paused before wheeling through the doorway. “How did your exams go today?”

  “Eh, not bad.” Nate shrugged. “I think I did okay.”

  “Are you doing anything tonight? Is Quinn around?” Now I felt bad about leaving him here alone.

  “Nah. Leo has a Christmas ball tomorrow night down at Carolina, and Quinn and Gia both flew down to go with him and Matt.” He sat down and began to ease off his shoes. “My mom wants me to come home for the weekend, so maybe I’ll do that. I could study there as well as I can here, and it’ll make her happy.”

  “Scoring points with the parentals is never a bad idea.” I zipped up my jacket and rolled into the hall. “Let me know when you decide for sure. I’ll see you later tonight or Sunday, I guess.”

  “Yeah, will do. Have fun studying, Tuck.” Nate gave me a small wave, and I left before my guilt over leaving him alone made me stay.

  Since I’d been such a hermit during our freshman year, I knew Nate had gotten used to having me around on a regular basis. Now that I was getting out and making friends, I got the feeling that he was lonely sometimes. Nate was steadfast in his friendships; he had me and he had Quinn, and by way of Quinn, he had Gia and Zelda. But beyond that, he didn’t seem to have interest in branching out.

  It wasn’t my responsibility, I reminded myself as I pushed the auto door and wheeled myself out into the frigid December air. Nate was a grown-up, too, and he could take care of himself.

  The campus was fairly deserted, since it was the end of the semester. Many had already left for home, since exams were officially over in two days. Anyone who was still here was probably holed up studying, as I’d been.

  I made it to the girls’ dorm and headed for the elevator. A few women were in the lobby, lounging on the couches, books, notebooks and open laptops covering the coffee tables and floor. I felt more than one set of eyes on me, and one actually made a yummy noise as I rolled past.

  A flush spread over my face, but I wasn’t offended. It was nice to be noticed again, I decided. And this semester, that had been happening more often. It was almost like being my old self again. Not that I wanted to be that guy, I reminded myself hastily; if I’d had any lingering fond thoughts about the old Eli Tucker, they’d been laid to rest permanently the night Zelda had told me the story of losing her virginity.

  I still felt a pang of regret and shame over that. She’d assured me more than once since that night that she didn’t hate me, that she’d forgiven me. But I wished I could go back and do things differently.

  That thought stuck in my mind as I got off the elevator and made my way to Zelda’s suite. If I could have a do-over, I was sure I’d still have sex with Zelda. She was just too tempting, too alluring . . . just too much to miss that. But if I could do it over, I wouldn’t leave her. I’d stay on that guest room bed and hold her. When she woke up, I’d kiss her and then I’d get a wash cloth and help her clean up, rather than letting her fumble her own way through it. And then I’d get her number, and I’d make it a point to go visit her in Lancaster. I wouldn’t go running off to kiss another girl, whose name and face I couldn’t remember now.

  I wondered how my life might’ve been different, if I’d been different back then. Would Zelda and I have formed a real relationship? Would we both be here at Birch now? Would I be in this fucking chair? What if changing one thing changed everything, and for some reason, I took that hit differently than I had?

  “Hellooooo? Eli?” Standing before me, framed by the open door, Zelda gazed down at me, quizzical amusement on her face. “Are you having some kind of seizure? You’re staring off into space. And you didn’t even flinch when I opened the door.”

  For a moment, I remained mute, just looking at Zelda. She wore a pair of faded jeans that clung to her long legs, ending just above her bare feet. A ragged, paper-thin and faded long-sleeved tee accented her awesome boobs. Her silky blonde hair was pulled up into a messy ponytail, and her face was devoid of makeup. The smudge of purple shadows under her enormous blue eyes told me that she’d been missing sleep studying, too.

  But it didn’t matter, because makeup or no makeup, sleep or lack thereof . . . Zelda Porter was so achingly beautiful that nothing could take away from that. This was something I tried not to think about too much, because acknowledging it caused too many uncomfortable reactions in my body. It made me yearn for things that I knew weren’t going to happen.

  Fuck it all, I was turning into Nate, silently mooning over a woman who was never going to want me.

  “Eli?” Zelda snapped her fingers, jolting my attention back to her. “You’re freaking me out here, dude. What’s going on?”

  “Sorry.” I bumped over the threshold of her room, a
voiding her bare feet. Jesus God, even her damn toes were sexy. I was pathetic.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” She stood with her hands on her hips. “You’re not feeling sick, are you?”

  “Nah. I was just . . . thinking.” I shrugged out of my jacket and tossed it onto the chair in the corner of the girls’ small living room. “I was considering a theoretical hypothesis on time travel and ripple effects of changing the past.”

  “Oh, God, don’t talk science to me.” She flopped down to the sofa, sprawling there, head back and eyes closed. I pretended not to notice how that position thrust out her already luscious tits. “I’ve been studying advanced botany all day. Since six this morning. I’m so done. I don’t want to hear about parthenocarpy or see an ocrea again.” She opened one eye. “Why were you thinking about time travel? You’re not taking any science courses this semester. Did you blow off studying today and watch Dr. Who instead?” Suspicion clouded her face, her lips pushing out.

  “No, I did not.” My fingers itched to reach out and run my fingers over the soft denim that covered her thigh. “I studied. I’ve done nothing but study for days. There was no watching of anything.”

  “Hmmmm.” She sighed. “Okay, then. Are you ready to tackle Shakespeare?”

  “I guess so.” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out my laptop. “Let’s tackle the essays first, and then you can quiz me on the terms and definitions. You’re stronger on those than I am.”

  We worked steadily for a solid hour. We both wrote short essays and compared our points, and then Zelda began firing questions at me, correcting the ones I missed and explaining the ones I didn’t remember. The woman amazed me. She might’ve been exhausted from hours of cramming, but she was still sharp as a tack.

  “You’re still forgetting a couple of themes from The Tempest.” Zelda tapped her pen onto her notebook. “You know this. Just think about it a minute. It’s easy. This question is a gimme.”

  “Oh, God, the themes.” I groaned and covered my face. “I can’t think of any more. I’m pretty sure I named at least a hundred.”

  “Exaggerate much?” Zelda propped her feet on the coffee table. “C’mon, try to get the last four. It’s just—” She paused as her stomach growled loudly.

  I raised one eyebrow. “Hungry, are we, Ms. Porter?”

  Her face went pink, which had to be the most adorable thing ever. “Sorry. I’ve been working so hard today that I kind of forgot to eat.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I think we have some leftover pizza in the fridge. We can heat it up, if you’re hungry, too.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so. You know how you’re done with science? That’s how I feel about leftover pizza right now. I’m way done with it.” I thought for a moment. “How does Chinese food sound? I know a place that makes the best around. It’s a little drive, but it’s worth it. I promise.”

  Zelda’s eyes lit up. “That sounds amazing. But do you think we should? We’re supposed to be studying. I don’t want us to fail the Shakespeare final.”

  I smirked. “You mean you don’t want me to fail the final. You’re ready for it now. And all the quizzing in the world isn’t going to help me if I starve to death before the test. Or if you do.” I leaned forward and caught my jacket. “C’mon. You drive, I’ll treat.”

  She wavered. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know I don’t. But I’m hungry, and I need food that isn’t heated up or greasy. And so do you. So stop arguing with me. Get on your shoes and grab a coat, because it’s fucking winter out there.”

  She jumped to her feet. “All right, all right! I’m coming.” Her words were grumbled, but her face was lit up with anticipation. “I’m a mess, though. I mean, I showered today, but I didn’t dry my hair or even put on mascara. I’m not sure you want to be seen with me.”

  “Zel . . .” I opened my mouth to tell her how gorgeous she was, and then I changed my tactic. “We’re going to eat wonton soup, fried dumplings and lo mein. No one’s going to be looking at your hair, toots. I promise. Now hustle.”

  She paused just long enough to flip me off on the way to her bedroom. “Hustle. I’ll give you hustle.”

  I grinned. This woman. She was feisty and flippant and . . . a huge fucking temptation.

  What I decided to do about that was still anybody’s guess.

  “That was incredible.” Zelda sighed in happy satisfaction, leaning back in her seat. “You weren’t wrong about this place. I can’t believe I’ve lived in South Jersey for over a year and never eaten here.” She swatted at my arm. “You’ve been holding out on me, Eli.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t been hanging out here, either. Tonight’s the first time I’ve been here since before—uh, when I was in high school. A bunch of us used to come here to eat after practice every now and then. And I came with my mom and dad sometimes.”

  “I’ve been a sucker for Chinese food since I first tried it three years ago.” She reached for a fortune cookie and broke it in half.

  “Three years ago? You mean, when I met you for the first time, you were a Chinese food virgin, too?” I clutched at my chest. “If I’d know it that night, I probably would’ve dragged you here with me and fed you.”

  She laughed. “Oh, really? I don’t remember the topic of food coming up that night. I think you might be giving past Eli too much credit.”

  I grimaced. “You’re probably right. Past Eli thought with his dick more than he should have.”

  “Past Eli was a hormone-laced boy,” Zelda countered. “Anyway, yes, I was a Chinese food virgin until I started taking classes at the community college. Then I met this guy . . .” She glanced up at me from beneath her eyelashes. “He was super hot. And after we had sex in the bed of his pick-up truck, he took me to eat Chinese food. And that was where I fell in love . . . with veggie lo mein.”

  “But not the boy?” I spoke lightly, because I didn’t want her to realize that the idea of her banging the guy in his truck twisted my gut.

  “No, not the boy.” She shook her head. “Never the boy. I don’t do love. I’m not the kind of girl who’s cut out for relationships. I know that.”

  “How do you know?” I sat back in my chair, my eyes never leaving her face. “Have you ever tried?”

  “Tried? Like, you mean, have I ever dated someone?” Zelda twisted her mouth and cast her eyes up. “Early in my high school years, there was one boy I went out with for a couple of months. He was sweet and kind . . . and he never tried to do anything more than kiss me. No tongue, even.” She waggled her eyebrows, making me laugh. “But I was young, and I knew I didn’t want to end up living in Lancaster for the rest of my life. This guy already had everything planned out—he was going to live on his family farm and run it after his father retired. He didn’t have any hopes or dreams beyond that. I was fifteen, and I already realized I was going to outgrow him eventually and break his heart. So I did the nicest thing I could and ended it before we really even started.”

  “Okay, but that was when you were fifteen. Nothing since? I don’t think you can know whether or not you’re the relationship kind of girl until you give it a shot.” I picked up my own fortune cookie and cracked it open, retrieving the small white paper from among the crumbs. “Let’s see what fate tells you.” Squinting, I read aloud the tiny print. “You will never know until you try. Try everything at least once.”

  “It does not say that.” Zelda extended her arm across the table, wiggling her fingers. “Give me that. Let me see what it really says.”

  “Hey, are you calling me a liar?” I dropped the fortune into her outstretched hand, waiting while she read it, watching her eyes go wide and her cheeks go pink. It was suddenly hard to swallow, and speaking of hard . . . when did my wheelchair get so damned uncomfortable? I tried to be subtle as I reached beneath the table to adjust myself.

  “Son of a bitch, it really does say that.” She gave a little laugh, shaking her head as she passed the fortune back to me. “But that h
as nothing to do with what we were talking about. Because you know the old rule, right? Every time you read a fortune, you have to add the words in bed to the end of it. So this one really means, Try everything at least once . . . in bed.” She smiled triumphantly. “That’s something I can totally get behind.”

  “So now we’re back to sex, are we?” I heaved a long breath. “Okay, so what if one night you hook up with a guy and it turns out you have more than just an epic fuck? Maybe you have chemistry, and you realize you want to spend more time with him. Maybe he’s someone you want to hang out with, even when you’re not having sex. What would you do then?”

  “I’d never find that out, because I never spend enough time with the men I fuck to learn anything about them. If they start to get personal or all touchy-feely, I shut that shit down fast. It’s just how I operate.” She spread her hands. “I don’t have time or energy to be someone’s girlfriend. And I’d get bored, Eli. Banging the same guy all the time? I like variety, I like the spice of life . . . and I’ve never met a man who’s okay with that.” She paused, and I could tell by the little furrow between her eyes she was thinking deeply. “The truth is that even if I accidentally fucked a man who I found out later I really liked, someone I’d want to spend time with outside of bed, and if he was cool with me banging other guys—I don’t think I could respect him for that. Am I hypocrite or what?” Her lips pressed together. “That’s just sad, isn’t it?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Whether or not you want to admit it, you’re realizing that you do want something more. I’m willing to bet that if you found the man who connected with you both in and out of bed, and he said he didn’t want to share you, you’d accept that. And you’d find out that variety might be fun, but commitment and dependability can be sexy, too.”

  Zelda groaned. “That’s pretty much a contradiction in terms, Eli. Those things are the opposite of sexy.”