Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I was fine, totally fucking fine, until I saw her.
* * *
Outside, the cold wind slaps my face. Dani leads me to her little BMW, and I get in the passenger seat while Candi gets in the back. The car ride is quick, the girls giggling about how excited they are for a new semester and all the plans they have.
I keep quiet and stare out the window. I don’t know what my plans are. My life is on hold until April when the NFL draft happens, and if that doesn’t work out—shit, I don’t want to even think about it.
Inevitably, my thoughts drift to Charisma. What’s she doing now? Is she watching Big Bang Theory? She left Cadillac’s alone, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have some guy over. My hands tighten in my lap. She’s probably fucking him right now, and afterward, she’ll be ready for him to leave. Her and those rules.
“Thanks, girls,” I say later when they’ve walked me up three flights of stairs. “You really are sweet to get me to my door.” I work the key.
“Need some help with that?” Dani scoots in close to me, her tits brushing against my back.
“Nah. Hey, did you know locks for doors were invented in Ancient Rome to create privacy in brothels? Think about it—if they’d put socks on the doorknobs, we might still live in a world without locks. Of course, they all wore sandals, so duh, locks came before socks.” I chuckle at my randomness but just get blank looks in return. Tough crowd. No one gets my sense of humor.
Charisma did.
I sigh internally.
Don’t go there.
They follow me in, and I face them in the small kitchenette of the apartment-style dorm I share with Dillon and Ryker. It’s a nice space with a den and three bedrooms. Unfortunately, it smells like old fajitas and feet.
I give them a level look. “All right, ladies, I’m not interested in a ménage-a-jersey-chaser tonight. I need rest. I do appreciate the ride.”
“You sure?” says Dani, her eyes gleaming. “We don’t mind sharing, you know.”
I avoid the topic and open the fridge to grab a Gatorade. “Positive.”
“What about a massage?” Candi asks, giving me a lingering look.
I shake my head. “The trainers will take care of that tomorrow.”
“What if you watch us?” Dani asks, edging closer to me. She pulls Candi along with her, lacing their hands together. “Then we work on you, whatever you want…” Her voice trails off, a hungry look in her gaze.
I rub the back of my neck and stare at the floor. “Tempting, so tempting. Maybe next time, girls.” I guzzle down my drink as they whisper back and forth, probably plotting how to change my mind. I can’t make out what they’re saying and don’t try to. My mind is scattered in too many directions.
All at once, I feel utterly exhausted, beat down. My bruises from the game are still healing, and all I can think about is crawling into my bed. Murmuring a final goodnight, I head down the hall to my bedroom. Just as I get my shirt off, I hear the front door slam. Dani’s disappointed, no doubt.
I take my jeans off, pull the small Ziplock bag out of one of the front pockets, and set it on my nightstand. I stare down at the small piece of paper inside, a note written on the back of a silver Big Red gum wrapper. It’s carefully folded into a square, the corners nice and sharp. I contemplate unfolding it and reading it, but in the end, I can’t.
A sigh of relief hits me as I crawl under the covers. The ceiling fan whirls over my head, and there’s enough light coming in from the window to watch it spin. I like it on even in the winter, gives me something to focus on as I try to tamp down the thoughts in my head.
Yet…
I keep circling back and worrying about football and classes.
I turn over and beat my pillow as emptiness creeps in. I don’t normally let dark feelings invade my thoughts, but I can’t let go of the fact that not one fucking person came to see me play my big game. Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Jack, the people who raised me since I was ten, weren’t there, even though I left tickets for them at the gate. Sure, I get that they’re busy and it’s hard to travel, but still, they haven’t shown up for any of my games, even the home ones. It’s as if I went away to college and became a distant memory for them.
And Charisma? My hands reach up and scrub my face. She didn’t even watch on TV.
I close my eyes and pray for sleep.
A Wildcat legend indeed.
* * *
I’m eight years old and walking down the candy aisle of the Exxon gas station, my hands holding a Snickers bar and a bag of Cheetos. My stomach rumbles, already imagining devouring them. I haven’t eaten today. Mama likes Fritos, so I grab those. Daddy likes Twix, so I balance that on top of the pile. Drinks, we need drinks. I head to the soda aisle. I’m feeling overwhelmed by the variety when the bell goes off inside the busy store, signaling someone entering or leaving. Instinctively, my head turns to the door as my parents walk out, both of them weaving. Mama stumbles over the curb outside and laughs, her eyes overly bright as she looks up at him. “You overdid it.” I heard Daddy tease her earlier. I know what that means. It means she’ll get that vacant look on her face and stare off into space. Daddy just grins and hooks his arm through hers then leads her to our car, an old white Volvo with a dent on the front fender. I dash back to the candy aisle and put everything back, but by the time I reach the front door, they’re pulling away, a cloud of smoke following the beat-up car. My heart drops and fear slides down my spine. No, no, no! I’m sorry I took too long in the restroom! I’m sorry I talked too much in the car! I’m sorry I can’t sit still! “Wait for me!” I scream as I run outside—