Fair Game: A Football Romance (66 page)

She lets out a long, low whistle while she starts the engine. “Wow . . . man, I thought you were in over your head with the lie about your age and having a crush on an older man, but this . . . I mean, this is like shit from the movies or HBO specials.”

“I can’t believe it either,” I whisper so softly that she probably didn’t even hear me. “I’m really hot. Can you turn the air down?” I’m not only hot. I’m nauseous. The magnitude of this situation is hitting me hard, and apparently my body has decided that throwing up is the best way to purge stress.

Savannah looks my way after she turns down the air, and knowing me well, she pulls over to the side of the road.

I open the door and lean out, preparing for a horrible bout of retching, but it never comes. Beads of sweat line my forehead as I grip the dash and the door jamb, but mercifully, none of my dinner makes a reappearance.

“I’m okay now. Let’s go,” I say, gulping in the cool night air.

“You sure? I don’t have time to clean puke outta my mama’s car. We need to get home.”

“Yes, go,” I say and wave my hand forward. The further away from club Ecstasy and King Romero’s world I get, the better off I’ll be . . . I think.

Back at Savannah’s house, we couldn’t have had better timing. Just as I get changed into an oversized t-shirt of Savannah’s and settled on the couch to watch TV, Mama starts banging on the door.

“Savannah, why aren’t you answering your phone?” she hollers through the door. When Savannah opens it, she storms in, red faced and frantic.

“Hi, Mrs. Bennett. What’s up?” she says cheerily, and I sink a little further into the overstuffed couch cushions, hoping Mama doesn’t see my swollen eyes.

“What’s up? What’s up, Missy, is that I’ve been trying to call you both for two hours with no answer. What’s going on over here? Where’s your mother?”

“Oh, she went out with her new boyfriend. I’m sorry about the phone. Mine died. Holland, where’s your phone?” she asks, turning in the darkened room to look at me curled up on the couch. I wish like hell I could just disintegrate into the old dust-filled stuffing of the pillows where I would never have to lie to my mother again.

“Um, I think it’s in my bag in your room. Sorry, Mama. I should have called, but we got caught up watching this . . .” I don’t know what the hell we are supposed to have been watching.

“Super sad movie,” Savannah says dramatically with wide doe eyes. “Holland is such a sap, she’s been bawling since the main character got arrested and had to leave her fiancé to go to jail.”

I glance at the screen and thank God Mama doesn’t know anything about
Orange is the New Black
, because that’s what Savannah has on. I have an overwhelming urge to roll my eyes, but I nod in agreement instead. Mama tilts her head to the side and peers through the dark to examine me closer. She’s never been suspicious of me before, and I think she’s trying to figure out if she should be now. She takes a quick breath in and blows it out when she’s satisfied nothing fishy is going on.

“Well, all right, you girls don’t stay up too late now. You need your sleep. And go get your phone, Holland. I want you to answer it if I call you from now on, do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama, I’m sorry. I’ll go get it right now,” I say and welcome the excuse to leave the room. She calls out “I love you,” and I hear the door click shut and three locks being turned. Savannah’s mama is a little paranoid about intruders. When I dig my phone from my purse, I see I have six unread texts—one from my mama, who never texts, so she must have been desperate. The other five are from King.

Standing in my best friend’s bedroom with only the light of my cellphone, I stare at the screen and pray for a solution. I think I might have been falling for King, but now that I know who he really is—
what
he really is—I know I’ll never get past that. There’s no way in hell I could ever be involved with someone like that. My whole life has been about preparing to be a professional musician. Being associated with King would destroy everything I’ve worked so hard for. God, I hope it hasn’t already. What if someone finds out? My parents would flip, Juilliard would retract my entrance acceptance in a heartbeat, and all of my years of hard work would go up in smoke. No. I’m not letting that happen. I have to cut things off with King completely, starting with these texts.

“Hey, whatcha doin’ standing in the dark?” Savanna asks softly.

“Thinking.” I hold the phone to my chest, and two fat tears race down my cheeks.

“Do you want to talk? I mean, I don’t know what to say, but I can listen if you want.”

“There isn’t really anything to say. King was a mistake. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and I lost my mind.” I can’t keep the quiver from my voice, and Savannah rushes into the room, smashing me into a bear hug.

“I’m sorry, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t begged you to go clubbing, you would have never met him.”

I don’t regret meeting King, and I especially don’t regret what happened between us. It was amazing to be swept off my feet like that, and I’m glad he was my first. It was magical and intense and too good to be true. I should have known.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not like you forced me. I could have said no to the clubbing, the drinking, and to King, but I didn’t, and that’s on me,” I say, untangling myself from her arms. “Let’s go finish watching
Orange is the new black
.”

“You caught that, huh?”

“Yea. I’m glad nobody started cursing or getting naked while she was standing there.”

“I would have died laughing,” she says.

“I don’t feel like laughing.”

I can just make out the silhouette of Savanna nodding in the dark before she turns to lead the way back to the living room.

My phone pings, notifying me of another text while I’m snuggling into my spot on the couch.

“Who’s that?” she asks, and I turn my gaze toward the TV.

I have to decide how to handle breaking things off with King. Should I read his texts or just delete them and block his number? If I read them, it will make me weak and I’ll feel obligated to reply. And I have a strong suspicion that King will not be ignored. Blocking his number will only prolong the inevitable until he gets home from Miami and searches me out.

My phone pings again, reminding me of the waiting texts. Ugh, I need time to think and my damn phone is rushing me.

“You gonna answer that?” she asks.

“I don’t know what to do. He keeps texting, and I want to answer but I can’t.”

“I can read them for you,” she offers. That wouldn’t be a bad idea if I weren’t afraid of him saying something about last night.

“Thanks. I should probably do it though.”

“Holland, you said earlier that you could have said no to King. Did you mean—”

“Yeah,” I answer. She may as well know everything—well not
everything
. I look over, and she’s frozen on the other couch with her mouth hanging open. We were both virgins, and it was always assumed that she would be the first to lose hers. In fact, she teased me that I’d never give it up to anyone because I couldn’t put my violin down long enough.

“Who are you? I mean, where is the real Holland? I can’t believe this.”

“I’m not sure who I am anymore either.”

“Holland, what are you gonna do? I can tell you’re into him, but damn, he’s really a drug dealer? Are you positive? Could that Sebastián person be wrong? What if he’s just trying to scare you off for some reason? I think you should talk to King before you make any decisions.”

She has a point. I mean, Sebastián didn’t actually say the words, ‘King is a drug dealer,’ and I’ve only known King for less than forty-eight hours.

“Look at the texts. See what he’s saying.”

I sigh and cave easily, looking at his first message. When I see it’s pretty tame, I read it out loud to Savannah.

‘Thinking of you. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, just ask Sebastián.’

“He sounds sweet, not like a drug dealer.”

“What’s a drug dealer sound like?” I ask.

“Like you know . . . using curse words and being bossy and stuff. I don’t know, not like that though. What’s the next one say?” She wiggles into a more attentive position on her couch and waves at my phone.

‘Boarding the jet. I’ll message when I’m in the air. Are you okay?’

“Boarding the jet? Holy shit, Holland, he has a jet? Maybe he really
is
a drug dealer.”

“Just because he’s boarding a jet doesn’t mean he owns it.”

“Now you’re defending him? A minute ago you were ready to dump him,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

“I know. I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I’ve never had a boyfriend or whatever he is, and I’ve certainly never known a drug dealer, okay?” I yell and toss the phone aside.

“Okay, okay, sorry. It’s just . . . I dunno. This is so crazy.” She shakes her head.

“You don’t have to tell me that. I feel like I’m in the middle of a tornado. I don’t know which way is up.”

“Call him.” She shrugs.

“What? I can’t just call him, he’s on a business trip.”

“Okay, then read the rest of his texts at least.” I grab my phone again and scroll to his third text.

‘Getting ready to land. You’re quiet, baby. You okay?’

“He calls you
baby
? Oh my God, that’s serious.” She’s on her knees now, rubbing her hands on her thighs and practically vibrating with excitement.

“It’s no big deal.” I lie, because it is to me. I love it when he calls me baby.

“Okay, next message,” she says with enthusiasm. She’s just not getting that this is serious. It’s not a game. I have strong feelings for this man, and we both have secrets—big secrets. I sigh and look at the next message.

‘Call me.’
Short and direct.

“Well that’s a little bossy—much more like a drug dealer,” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“You’re not helping, Savannah.”

“Sorry. Keep going. What else does he say?”

‘Call. Me.’
Again? Shit.

“Uh, I think maybe you should call him.”

I look with one eye open to see what his last message says, and it makes me sit up straight and drop my phone in my lap.

“What? Holland, what did he say?” she asks, joining me on my couch. She picks up my phone to read the message herself. I hear her gasp when she reads it aloud.

‘I’m having the jet refueled. I’m coming home right now if you don’t call me—pinky swear.’

“Pinky swear? What’s that mean? Shit, Holland, call him.” She hands me the phone and I take a deep breath before dialing.

He can’t come home. He can’t find out I’ve been lying to him about my age. He can’t know I live at home with my parents, and I can’t keep seeing a drug dealer, no matter how I feel about him.

The phone doesn’t even finish ringing one time before I hear his voice.

“Holland, is everything alright?” he says, and I hear the howl of a jet engine in the background.

“I’m fine, sorry I didn’t text you back. I guess my phone was on vibrate. You don’t have to come home. Really. Everything’s fine.” I start to think he can’t hear me over the noise of the jet, because he doesn’t respond right away.

“Something’s wrong. I hear it in your voice. You sound scared.” Shit, now what am I supposed to say? I sound scared because I am, but I can’t tell him I’m scared of
him
.

“Uh no, why would I be scared? I just don’t want you to rush back. You have business there, and I’m fine.”

“Holland, if someone is making you say these things, just say yes right now, okay, baby?”

“Huh?”

“If someone is with you that doesn’t want me to come home, and they are holding you against your will, say yes right now.”

“No, no one is . . . wait, why would anyone be holding me against my will?” I ask, sitting up straighter and bouncing my foot up and down on the floor. Oh my God, am I already in danger from being associated with him?

I hear him sigh heavily into the phone. “This problem in Miami could be gang related, and I guess I’m just being paranoid where you’re concerned. I’m sorry if I upset you. Sebastián says you left and Brian saw you off. Are you at home?”

“Yes, sort of. I mean, I’m at Savannah’s spending the night.”

“Oh good. Okay then. I need to get over to the club if I’m not coming home. You’re positive everything is alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine.”

“I miss you already, Holland.” Oh God, his voice is hypnotizing. I can’t think about anything but his mouth forming the words
I miss you
and his hands all over me. All the drugs and illegal activity in the world can’t stop my body from reacting to that voice.

“I miss you too,” I answer breathlessly, and Savannah shoves my shoulder, bringing me back to reality.

“I’ll be home soon. Keep your phone close and turn on the volume, please. I don’t like not being able to reach you.”