Fading Out (15 page)

He walks around me, and I turn to watch him grab the doorknob, only to pause before opening the door. I race through my thoughts, trying to find a clear course of action, something I can give him to make him understand.

“I would never ask you to give up football or your future. And I’d never ask you to turn your back on your family,” I say. “That’s the difference, Ryder.”

He huffs a bitter laugh. “But aren’t you?” he says. “Because how will you ever stomach being with a jock?” He sends me one last, desperate look before he opens the door and leaves, his candid words lingering in the air around me.

E
arth and rain
, the scent of our victory, engulfs the small dorm room. I brought my cleats with me, wanting to clean off the caked-in mud better than the half-assed job I did after the game. We nearly got washed out, but we played hard and brought it home before the weather turned to shit. Looking them over, I consider having the boosters pitch in, but I don’t mind the small things. The things I can do for myself.

After I toss my shoes on the plastic sheet I have laid out at the bottom of my closet, I rub the gritty dirt between my fingers, my mind drifting to the last play of the game. Just a couple of weeks ago I was almost positive I knew what I was doing. I finally felt solid in my choice to go pro. I belonged.

That sure feeling fled nearly as quickly as it came.

I peel my T-shirt off, my skin still damp from my shower, and flip through the shirts hanging in my closet. I must stand here too long, lost in thought, because Gavin tosses a Nerf football at my head. I grit my teeth on impact.

“No jeans, bro,” he says simply, like I’m supposed to take wardrobe advice from a guy who wears fucking muscle tees everywhere. Like he’s one of those stereotypical jocks from the 80s.

“This party was supposed to be your thing,” I say, pulling a gray thermal from a hanger. “Why you’d make it about me?”

Gavin groans. “Because you’re always so uptight, man. You need to relax. Have you heard anything from that one dude…?” He trails off as he thinks. “That scout we met at that dinner thing?”

This is not the conversation I want to have right now. After Ari left with her parents the night of the charity banquet, I was approached by this weasel of a scout, Jerry Dugan. I’d heard some shit about him, like how he could get you a Beamer at your request. Which is now frowned upon. But he’s still one of the lowlife scouts who’ll try to buy you out. Most guys stay clear of him, but Gavin—and I can say this because the guy’s my closest friend—is just the type to get hooked by those games.

“Nah,” I say, and fall back on my bed, tucking my hands behind my head. “He’s not worth it, dude. We need to wait it out. Coach said Mathis would be coming around next week.” It would be cool if Gavin and I got picked up by the same scout, got vetted for the same team. But that’s highly unlikely. And besides, neither of us will even utter the team’s name we hope to be picked by. That’s like tempting fate.

Gavin doesn’t respond, and I let it go. I’m too tired and restless to talk about anything serious concerning my future. Ever since the blow up with Ari—that I still cannot figure out what the hell happened—I’ve steered clear of any heavy thoughts on my prospects.

I didn’t know how badly I wanted something different until she blew into my life. Like a fucking hurricane. And now she’s all I can think about. I’ve tried to imagine just being friends with her, or hell, even just acquaintances. What it would feel like to pass her in the hallway, overhearing her announce an upcoming engagement—a party her father’s throwing her at the Ritz, or wherever the wealthy celebrate. Imagining her marrying some rich douchebag.

For a girl I met not all that long ago, there should be no sting whatsoever. I should be able to shrug it off, or maybe even vent a little, telling myself it’s her loss. Good luck to her. It’s what I’d do with any other girl. But just the thought of her being bound this early to some guy…my whole body locks up, and then I’m raging mad. Fired up, and huffing like the pissed off, dumb jock that she wants me to be.

But what’s the alternative?

I can’t believe I put all that shit out there the other day. Told her I’d give up football if she’d stand up to her dad. What’s more, I’m not sure who I said it for; her or me—like I was only seeking an excuse to quit.

What an ass.

At least I’m being truthful, though. I should have all my shit figured out before I say another word to her. Which is going to be hard, considering the party tonight.

“Are you ready yet, you girl?” Gavin’s standing at the door, staring at me. “You’re so fucking out of it lately. Come on.”

I roll off the bed, feeling like my body is dead weight I have to lug around all night. Games usually don’t wear me down this badly, but there’s zero winning buzz to override my bruised ribs, my racked muscles. My beaten willpower.

Slipping on my leather jacket, I consider the very real possibility that Ari won’t even be there. This was all for her friend. I decide that’s fine by me as I follow Gavin into the hallway. We need more time too cool down after the heated words we exchanged. And that’s just it—neither one of us needs anything intense to fire us up for a good while. I’ll figure out what to do, how to proceed with her, after I blow off some steam.

As I make my way toward my Jeep, the sounds of elated Bobcats echo through the parking lot.

O
nly the town’s
adored Bobcats could manage shutting down a whole beach bar to host a private party. I shake my head as Gavin and I enter, the cranked, bass-filled music hitting my chest with a rattling boom. Flashing LED lights decorate the ceiling, dripping from the rafters. Little blue lights are woven between sheer material being used to section off private seating areas.

“How the hell did you pull this off?” I shout over the music.

Gavin chuckles, a beer already in his hand. “Dude, I’m the shit.”

I have no other choice but to accept this as fact. Because I’m actually impressed.

Looking around for the boosters, all I note is the team. A bunch of dudes. No girls. And I know at least half of these guys have girlfriends, or at least their current hookups. I quirk an eyebrow in Gavin’s direction.

“Don’t worry, man. This won’t be a sausage fest.” He takes off toward the bar top to talk to the bartender.

I pull up a seat next to Jeremy and nod my head toward a bottle of water when he asks what I’m drinking. None of the guys ever mention it, but they know the reason I don’t drink. That I stay far away from the shit that turns my brother into a monster.

I’m listening to Jeremy and Beck’s animated debate about a play, when light spills into the darkened bar as the door swings open. Six members of the boosters amble in, shaking off the cold. I squint, as if that will help, and zero in on Ari. She’s standing beside Vee, glancing around anxiously, as the other girls head toward Gavin.

Ari’s eyes meet mine for one quick second before Gavin shouts, “Take your places, boys!” And the music stops. The flood of my teammates hustling around breaks our eye contact.

This…does not look good. I’m suddenly wary, a sinking feeling gripping my stomach and my back stiffening against the plush seat. Hoots and whistles sound out as Ari trails the girls toward the back of the bar.

The music switches back on, a sensual, slow rhythm filling the bar, and Carly leaves Gavin’s side to strut toward the mini-stage in the corner where all the band equipment has been pushed against the wall.

I’d like to think she’s getting ready to perform—sing, play the guitar, beatbox—but I almost hooked up with her back in my sophomore year—and from what I remember, she only has a few talents, and those are not among them. Luckily, she got too drunk before anything serious happened between us. I’d feel damn awkward right now, otherwise.

“I tried my hardest to bribe Todd into putting up a stripper pole,” Gavin says as he plunks down on the bench seat beside me. “But he wasn’t feeling it. Oh, well. It beats the shit out of the titty bars! At least the lap dances are free.” He woops as Carly begins swiveling her hips. She lets down her long blond hair and shakes it out.

Heat crawls up the back of my neck, slithering ever so slowly, encasing me in a feeling of dread. I avert my eyes as she begins to unbutton her shirt. “What the fuck, Gav?” I say.

“What? We’re a short ways away from the championship.” He shrugs. “I figured a little stress relief would be appreciated.” Then his gaze is back on the stage, his head nodding along to the strip club beat. “It’s just a few girls, man. They were all about it.”

Then—because my brain hasn’t even began to process everything just yet—it fucking hits me like a Mack truck. Square in the chest. Only by now it’s too late, because the other booster girls are moving into the room, my Ari trailing their lead.

My eyes are glued to her sexy body draped in a long, tight black dress, a slit running the length of her leg. It’s strapless, and her cleavage pushes over the top—all her silky skin glitters under the twinkling lights.

Anger spikes my blood, lava hot. I can actually feel my blood boiling, sizzling under my skin as she prances in front of a table full of guys, modeling off her body. I’m already thinking on my feet, about to storm over to her and drag her out of here, but I hear Gavin say, “Right here!” as he points to me. And then hands are pressed against my shoulders, pushing me into the seat.

I look up and into Vee’s eyes. They’re wide and imploring. “Please?” she whispers. “Just go with it.”

My eyebrows pull together, and I try desperately not to look at her tits. Which are barely covered by a sparkling string bikini top and right in my face.

Hell. I feel fucking degraded
for
her. Here she is, stripping her clothes off for me, riding my lap, just for the chance to be near Gavin. Why the hell did he do this? Why the hell did I not clarify anything to him? I should’ve known. I just should’ve fucking known. I wish I’d just told him to ask the poor girl out. Take her on a real freaking date. He’s not actually all that bad—he’s just…Gavin.

Luckily, Vee keeps her top on, and I can tell she’s never once done this before. I can feel her limbs trembling as she awkwardly tries to ride one of my legs, her knees knocking painfully against my thigh.

I’m starting to think this might not be so bad. Ari’s just here to support Vee, who is about as nervous as a trembling snowflake in August. I’ll hand her over to Gavin in a second with a stern word to keep his eyes on her. Then I’ll end the party before Ari can even think of shedding that dress for any of these losers—supporting her friend or not, I’ll be damned. It’s so out of character for her—I don’t care how much she wants to help Vee. This is over the fucking top.

I’ll also put a hurt on Gavin real soon. Just for the fact that Ari is walking around in stripper clothes.

My gaze darts around the room as Vee tries to adjust her bikini bottoms…and I find Ari.

My heart stops beating. Just stops dead in my chest. My lungs cease to breathe, and they burn painfully. She’s dancing in front of Beck, damn near grinding against him, wearing next to nothing.

I hear Vee’s yelp, and I realize I’ve seized her arms. “Sorry,” I say through clenched teeth. Then I’m looking into her eyes. “What the fuck is she doing?” I seethe.

She attempts a shrug, and I loosen my hold. “I honestly don’t know. I told her—” But I cut her off as I move her over to Gavin.

“Do not—” I get right in his face, narrow my eyes “—let this girl give anyone else a dance. Do you hear me?”

His head jerks back, stunned. I don’t give him a second to say anything stupid. “She’s Ari’s best friend,” I continue. “And I will cripple you next practice if another guy so much as looks at her. Take her to a private section.”

Eyes wide, he nods. “Yeah, dude. That’s cool.”

Then I’m stomping toward Beck, my hands curling into fists, my teeth gritted so hard my jaw aches from the pressure. I see red. As Beck’s fat hand snakes up Ari’s back, fingers grasping the string to her top, blood red pulses in my vision.

My hand clamps around his and I squeeze. Hard.

“Ah! Mother fu—” Beck breaks off as his eyes meet mine.

“Get off him,” I grind out.

Ari’s head whips around, her dark curls slashing Beck across the face as she leans over him. I’m still crushing Beck’s hand as she looks me over. “No.”

My stomach hits my boots. “Get. The fuck. Off him.” I do not like who I am right now, but I’m going to hate myself in a matter of two seconds if she doesn’t do just that.

Her eyes gleam defiantly in the soft blue light, her mouth set in a stubborn line. “I’m tired of being told what to do. Wait, how’d the whole thing go again?” She cocks her head, pretending to think. “How to act, what to wear, what to do for the rest of my life? Isn’t that the way you put it?”

Anger scorches my chest as I force out a heavy, hot breath. “I didn’t mean it like…” I turn my head away, collect my thoughts. Then I look down at Beck. “I’m going to kill you if you do not get your fucking crotch away from her right now.”

His hands fly up. “Ryde, it was just messing around.” My glare reinforces my threat. He gently pushes a scowling Ari upright by her shoulders, but my fury doesn’t diminish in the least. All I can do is stare at where her naked thighs touch his big, fat, jean-clad knees.

My head pulses in sync to the beat vibrating the walls, sound whooshing in and out of my ears, as my anger mounts. There’s no reeling it in. I’m grabbing Ari around her trim waist and pulling her away before she can protest.

“Hey! I’m sick of you manhandling me,” she snaps. “Like some freaking caveman. What, are you going to throw me over your shoulder again?” She smacks at my hand.

She means it as an insult, but I’m thinking that idea sounds pretty damn good right about now. Anchoring my hands to my hips, I survey the small room. Most of the guys’ attention is on the stage, where Carly is still dancing, and the others are waiting their turn for private dances.

“Are we done?”

Ari’s annoyed voice draws my focus back on her. Arms crossed over her chest, pressing her silver bikini top upward, her glittering breasts pushed over the triangles. What the fuck happened to all her modest layers?

I shake my head. “Far from it,” I say to her. “Get your clothes.”

“The hell I am,” she mutters, then starts to walk off, but I catch her arm. “I came here for Vee. And I’m going to dance.”

“What are you trying to prove?”

Her eyes hold mine, then she steps into my personal space. A mischievous glint lights her eyes as she presses her body against mine. I suck in a quick breath at the feel of her hands on my chest, roaming down, as she swivels her hips against me.
Fucking hell
.