“I don’t feel good. We need to leave,” I choke out, struggling with the words.
Bash slides off the bench and comes around to my side of the table, helping me up to my feet. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve gone through this before. Don’t worry, Tori. I know what to do.”
As soon as we make it into my dorm room, I get sick again. This time, Bash holds my hair while I puke and rubs my back. He’s acting like the person I once knew. And I like it. His behavior makes me miss him and what we had together.
I brush my teeth, swallow a few Tylenol along with a bottle of water, and then, Bash helps me to the couch.
The living room of the two-bedroom suite I share with Jessica has couches facing one another, separated by a wooden coffee table. We have a small kitchen off to the left, a full-size bathroom to the right, and private bedrooms along the back wall. Each room has a double bed situated between two windows covered by dark gray curtains. It’s the standard room you can expect to find in Jefferson Hall.
Jessica and I thought about upgrading to off-campus housing, like the house Bash lives in, but we didn’t want to be surrounded by girls and fighting over bathrooms. We like our space, and this place suits us just fine.
Bash sinks into the microfiber next to me, smiling like an idiot. Still dizzy, I scoot closer to him and lay my head on his chest. He cradles me in the crook of his arm and swipes a strand of hair from my face.
I close my eyes, hoping I will drift off to sleep. I’m so tired my lids are heavy. My body is desperate for sleep. When Bash kisses my forehead, I stir in his arms and mumble his name under my breath, about to tell him to stop. But this is nice. Plus, he’s like lying on a big comfy pillow—if that pillow had rock hard abs and chiseled arms.
“You should sleep in your bed,” he says, speaking so low I almost have trouble hearing him. “You will need all the rest you can get if you want to get back to normal.”
Bash picks me up, kicks open the door to my bedroom with his foot, and places me on the mattress. I haven’t made my bed. The sheets are a tangled mess. He tugs at the light gray comforter beneath me until he manages to get it out from under my weight. Crouched next to the bed, he runs his fingers down my arm and lets out a loud sigh.
We stare at each other for a few seconds, before I look away and slip under the covers. I trace my fingers along Bash’s arm, stopping when I see the tiny bumps dotting his skin. We look at each other for minutes. It’s intense. He stares at me like he wants to rip off my clothes. But he wouldn’t dare. Not after my warnings. Not after everything he has done.
“It’s annoying how perfect you are,” I say in a hushed tone.
He narrows his eyes at me. “I’m far from perfect, Queenie. Just like everyone else, you only see what you want to see.”
“Then stop pretending to be what everyone wants you to be. Once upon a time, the Bash I knew was…different.”
He holds onto the edge of the bed, and with his chin on the mattress, he peeks up at me with those bright green eyes that jump off his face.
My heart thumps out of my chest, overcome with a strange mixture of emotions. Bash makes me so nervous yet excited, all at the same time. My old and new feelings are so twisted together that my head spins from all the thoughts racing through it.
“I’m still the same person. If you’d let me explain, give me a chance, you’d see that for yourself.”
He leans in, as if he’s about to kiss me, and then he stops himself. A beat passes between us where I would have considered kissing him if he’d made a move. But I reject the idea. What we have tonight is nice, so I’ll enjoy it while I can. I know it won’t last. I’m not delusional. Anything that seems too good to be true is always too good to be true. Bash included.
Grabbing the duvet, I yank it up to my chin and fall back onto the mound of pillows behind me. Bash hasn’t taken his eyes off me, and it freaks me out. That’s why I decide to throw him a bone since he’s already begging.
“I guess we can be friends. If that’s what you want to call what we’re doing right now.”
“I can do friends,” he says, taking my hand in his to kiss my skin, his lips moving up my arm.
“Friends don’t kiss,” I remind him.
He stops kissing me and looks at me, still holding my hand. “Right…my mistake. I’m sorry.” He lets go of me and uses the bed to push himself up to his feet. “How about I let you get some sleep?”
I curl up with a pillow and smile. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m pretty tired.”
He walks away from the bed, about to flip the light switch when I stop him.
“Bash, do you think you can call the team doctor for me? So that I can get looked at again.”
“Right now?” He turns around to face me, his hand still next to the light switch. “Are you feeling sick again?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It can wait until the morning.”
“Of course. Get some sleep, and I’ll call Doc when I wake up.”
“Thanks,” I say, unable to keep my eyes open. “Night, Bash.”
He smiles, then flips the switch, leaving my room in darkness. “Night, Queenie.”
“Stop calling me that,” I say, my voice tired and weak.
Hugging the pillow tight against me, I take in the scent of my laundry detergent and drift off to sleep, thinking about Bash. This time they are good thoughts.
Chapter Five
Bash
The couch in Tori’s dorm suite is harder than the fucking floor. I’m shocked that I managed to get any sleep. It was like curling up on stone slabs. After a few hours of trying to sleep, I thought about going home and coming back later. But I was afraid that something might happen, and with Jessica staying the night at my house with Clay, I didn’t want to leave Tori alone.
After I wash my face and rinse the taste from my mouth, I make a pot of coffee. It’s nine o’clock in the morning and late enough that I can call Dr. Holland to treat Tori. I’m worried about her. I’ve been through my fair share of concussions, and I know firsthand how rough it can be until it passes.
I remove my cell phone from my pocket and call Doc. Everyone on the team has him on speed dial after all the issues we’ve had over the years. He answers on the third ring and promises to come soon after I explain the situation with Tori.
Stirring sugar into my coffee, I finish my call with Doc, and then shove the phone back into my pocket. When I turn around, Tori opens her bedroom door, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She lowers her arm from her face and locks onto me, shocked to see me. Tori just stares, unblinking. I bet she thought I would bail because that’s the man she thinks I am.
I lean my back against the counter and take a sip from my mug, appraising her, before handing her my coffee. She takes it from my hand without a word and chugs the rest of it down in one gulp.
“More,” she grunts, shoving the cup into my chest.
Tori looks like hell with her hair sticking up in different directions, mascara streaks under her eyes, and what looks like dried slobber in the corner of her mouth. But she’s still beautiful. A hot mess I’d still bend over this counter and lose myself with her…In her.
I make us each a coffee and tip my mug to hers, the ceramic clanging together in the silent room. Tori walks away without a word and sinks into the thin cushions of the gray microfiber couch in the living room, burying her head in the pillows. “I feel like a truck ran over my head and kept backing up over it all night.”
I laugh at her theatrics. She was always a drama queen. “I called Dr. Holland for you. He should be here within the hour.” I take a sip and then lean over to set the mug on the table. “I’ll stay with you until he leaves if you’re okay with that.”
She lets out a big gulp of air but doesn’t speak.
I sit at the opposite end of the sofa, lean my elbow on the arm, and turn on the flat screen on the wall. After flipping through Netflix for ten minutes without finding anything she likes, Tori sets her mug on the table and crawls
over to me. Her gesture isn’t meant to be seductive. But the way she looks at me, on all fours and her breasts spilling out her shirt, make it hard for me to think of anything other than sex.
“Give me,” she demands, snatching the remote from my hand. “You have never had good taste in movies.”
I chuckle as she makes herself comfortable next to me as if she forgot that she hates me. “Hey, that’s not true. I have excellent taste in movies.”
“Says the guy who likes Spider Man 3,” she deadpans, her eyes focused on the TV and a sly smirk on her lips.
“That was a good movie,” I spit back, defensive.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You just proved my point. Horrible taste. You also think Tron is a good movie. I guess that’s because you’re a jock who wouldn’t know a good movie.”
“Oh, so I’m just some dumb jock now? You should know me well enough to realize that’s not true. We were in the same classes, have the same major, and have the same grade point average. The only difference is I play football, and you hate sports and any activity that involves socializing”
I take another sip, the warm liquid running down my throat. Peeking out the corner of my eye, I can see the scowl forming on her lips.
“I am not anti-social,” she says, angry. “Just because you’re the King of Strickland University doesn’t make me the weird girl who’s afraid to talk to people.” She sits up straight and points her nose up at the ceiling. “I will have you know I am very social.”
“Is that so?” What was the last party you went to?”
“Yours, you jackass.” The smirk returns to her lips.
Duh! She’s got me there.
“You know what I meant, smart ass.”
She flips through the shows on the TV, ignoring me for a minute before she gives up her search and hands the remote back to me. “Here, put on whatever you want. I’m sick of looking, and I’ve watched most these already.”
“It’s your place, not mine. You should pick the movie. You know, since I have such bad taste.” I say the last part with an impish grin.
Saved by the knock on the door, I get up to let Dr. Holland into the apartment. We exchange the usual pleasantries, and he takes a seat next to Tori on the couch.
“How are you feeling, Victoria?”
I used to tell her that she was my queen since her name is Victoria, hence the nickname Queenie. Lame, I know. It was something I said when I was half-lit and trying to get into her pants. She hates it, always has, but I think she secretly likes it. With a last name like Prince, it seemed fitting. She used to call me her Prince Charming, joking around, and that was always my comeback. The name ended up sticking.
She’s the only girl I’ve cared for since I stepped foot on this campus three years ago. At one time, I was madly in love with her. But I had to move on.
I watch as Dr. Holland evaluates Tori. He shines a light in her eyes, tells her to follow his finger, and performs all the usual tests to check cognitive function.
“I don’t see any causes for concern, but you will need to get some rest. The only way to give your brain the time you need to recover is to spend the rest of the weekend off your feet and in bed. Do you have anyone who can take care of you? I’d feel better if someone were with you just in case.”
She shakes her head. “No, my roommate is spending the weekend with her boyfriend, and my family lives in Pittsburgh.”
“I can stay with her,” I say.
Tori shoots daggers in my direction. Her lip curls up at me in revulsion. “No, I don’t think so, Bash. I’ll be fine on my own.”
“You heard what Doc said,” I challenge, moving closer to command her attention. “Doctor’s orders.”
She pretends as though I don’t exist and turns her head toward the TV.
“Even though you hate me, you will need me to stay with you.” I stand in front of her and wait for her to look up at me. “I’ve been through this more times than I can count. Trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” she snaps back.
“I would consider Bash’s offer,” Dr. Holland adds. “If you start to display any of the more serious symptoms of a concussion, you will need someone to take you to the hospital.”
Tori slides her hand behind her head, staring up at the ceiling as if it holds the answer to her dilemma. “I guess Bash can hang out for a while, as long as he doesn’t annoy me too much.”
“So, it’s settled,” Dr. Holland says, placing his medical instruments back into his bag. “Take care of yourself Victoria. Make sure you drink plenty of fluids and get some rest. Don’t drink or do any strenuous activities. I’d prefer if you stay inside for the next two days, if possible.”
“That won’t be an issue,” she says, propping herself up on the arm of the couch as she tucks her feet under her.
Dr. Holland looks at me as he stands, and I follow suit. “Bash, call me if anything changes with Victoria.”
When I open the door for Doc, he lingers in the entryway, hesitating. He lowers his voice to an almost whisper. “Make sure she follows my instructions. She seems a bit headstrong, and people like that make the worst patients. You know better than anyone that not following doctor’s orders can lead to complications.”
I nod. “Yes, I do. That’s why I plan to sit by Tori’s side until she’s feeling better, even if she doesn’t want me here.”
“Good.” He flashes a quick smile. “I’m glad to hear it. Like I said, call me if anything changes. As long as Victoria gets some rest, I think she will be just fine by the start of class on Monday.”
I slap a hand on his back. “Thanks again, Doc. I’ll take good care of her.”
He nods without another word and disappears into the crowded hallway. The weekends on campus are always insane, with some people still up from the night before and drunk out of their skulls. I’m one of them when it’s not football season. But I have to be in the zone, and that means keeping my partying to a minimum.
Once upon a time, my dad was a professional football player. He played quarterback for the Redskins back in the day, long before he blew out his knee. He was at the end of his career when it happened, but he still crawls up my ass about conditioning and being in game-ready shape. Now, he’s a sports announcer for ESPN and is never home. But he always finds the time to call and tell me what I need to do better or how I can improve my game.
So, the most partying I can do on the weekends is drinking a few beers, at best. I take football serious. For as long as I can remember, my entire life has revolved around practice schedules, workouts, and games. My dad had molded me, so that he could turn me into the best running back in the league.
If everything goes as planned, I should have a shot at the NFL. That’s why I have no room for error or distractions. Except I have one perched on the sofa, making my dick twitch. The skin-tight top Tori has on from last night clings to her petite, yet curvy frame.
One of the things I always like most about Tori is her figure and her full, luscious tits. All I can think about is shoving my face between them as I take my place on the couch across from her. Hanging out with Tori for the next ten minutes will be hard with the semi growing in my pants, let alone another day or two, assuming she doesn’t kick me out before then.
“I’m hungry.” She rubs her stomach with a sly grin. “If you’re going to be my caretaker, the least you can do is get me something to eat.”
I shake my head, laughing. “You’re impossible, Queenie.”
“I’m serious. As your first order of business as my nurse, you need to feed me.”
“Cooking is not my thing. How about we go to the SAC instead? Are you feeling up to it?”
“You expect me to be seen with you…in public?” She doesn’t even try to hide her disgust.
I snicker. “You act like that’s a bad thing. Being seen with me can do wonders for your image.”
“Been there, done that,” she deadpans. “It didn’t do a damn thing for me other than…” Her
voice trails off, and without finishing her train of thought, I already have an idea of what she was about to say.
I ruined her. I destroyed what we had. I made her the laughing stock of Strickland University. But I didn’t do it on purpose. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t reverse any of the embarrassment or shame she felt after our breakup, even if I wanted to help take away her pain. Tori went into a deep depression, one that I’d watched unfold over time. That’s why I made a deal with her father, kept a secret from Tori, along with my distance.
I’ve watched her from afar, made sure no one got too close, and now, it’s time to get her back. But how do I change her mind? She’s so tough and resilient. The girl sitting next to me is nothing like the one I once knew.
“So, the SAC? Wanna go or what? Otherwise, you may starve to death.”
A beat passes between us before she says, “Fine. We can go to the SAC. Let’s just get this over with, so I can come back and take a nap. I’m getting tired again.”
When we reach the Student Activity Center, the intoxicating aroma of fried food welcomes us. We sift through the masses, pass the bookstore, and walk up a flight of stairs.
Holding on to my arm, Tori whines, “You know, Bash, stairs count as strenuous activity. We’re only an hour in, and you’re already sucking as my nurse.”
“I’m doing the best I can, woman. Just calm down. Steps do not count as strenuous activity. The last time I checked you weren’t a ninety-year-old woman and are capable of climbing a flight of steps.”
“You’re fired,” she jokes, her smile reaching up to her big, blue eyes. “I should replace you with someone smarter and better looking.”
“Better looking?” My tone indicates a question that I don’t expect her to answer.
[Love in the End Zone 01.0] Out of Bounds Page 4
