Lexington and 42nd (The Off Field Series #1) (34 page)

I searched his eyes as a frown crossed his face. “Why even ask me that? It’s irrelevant.”

“Humor me then. If you had to pick, would it be me or football?”

“I…that’s, it’s different. It’s not the same thing.”

I nodded, knowing that would be his answer. It didn’t make it hurt any less. “So your career is more important than mine then. Hmm?”

“No, I—”

“Well you said it was different, so what does that mean? How is my career any different than yours, any less important?”

“It’s not less important, of course it isn’t.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, my voice strangely calm. “Then answer me, yes or no?”

“No! Are you happy? I wouldn’t, but it’s a fucking stupid question.” Both hands went to his hair, pulling in frustration. “You know what, if you’re so caught up in what people think of you, then maybe you’re right, maybe it is best we don’t see each other.” I flattened my back against the wall as he stepped into me, hands planted on the concrete on either side of my face. “I don’t fucking need this. I’m done.”

He pushed off, not giving me a second glance as he wrenched open the locker room door. I watched him go, barely registering the many pairs of shocked eyes that looked back at me as the door swung shut.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since Will had ripped my heart out and walked away. No scrap that, three weeks since I’d ripped out my own heart. Will had done nothing wrong. I hated letting him think I was walking away because I was worried about what people thought of me, but I couldn’t tell him of Hayes’ threat. I’d already done enough damage without ignoring his orders on that front too.

If I thought I’d experienced any sort of heartache before this, I was sorely mistaken. Oh how mistaken I was. My body felt like it had gone ten rounds in a boxing ring, my limbs ached and a lead weight sat in the pit of my stomach. But the physical pain was no match for the knife lodged in my chest, for the nightmare scenes of the last time we’d spoken that replayed in my mind every waking hour. The only solace I found was in sleep, which I did often.

I hadn’t spoken to, or been in close proximity to Will since we’d had it out after the press conference. The club made very sure of that. To add to my heartache, I had to deal with the daily mortification of everyone knowing my business. Whoever said men didn’t gossip was lying, because the players on the other side of the door that day had heard every word we’d exchanged, and they hadn’t held back in spreading the news.

Those who didn’t have the full story just made stuff up, one of my personal favorites was that Will had blown up at me because I wouldn’t stop stalking him after our weekend love fest. So much for my excuse about ending things to protect my professional reputation. Half the office looked at me like I was a bunny boiler and the scariest part was, I didn’t care enough to correct them.

Thankfully those nearest to me were forever watching my back. Carrie, Dana and James had formed a protective bubble around me, the team’s schedule silently shuffled to ensure I wouldn’t need to attend anything that Will was at.

Until tonight that was. Tonight it was all hands on deck, and because the initial hype following our very well publicized blow-up was now just a distant memory—except to yours truly of course—all hands on deck included me too.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, smoothing my dress down for the hundredth time. It was the same one I’d worn the night I’d met Will at the draft party. I knew he liked me in it…he’d told me as much in the Hamptons, describing the memory of the first time he’d laid eyes on me in it down to the very last detail as he’d kissed a trail along my spine.

Did I feel petty wearing it now? Absolutely. But was that going to stop me from letting Will see me in it? Absolutely not. Because I wanted a reaction. Something to show me he hadn’t moved on as quickly as it seemed to the outside world.

Over the past weeks my memories of that awful scene in the corridor, while still vividly etched in my brain, were slowly merging with the reality of Will now. Because Will now was firing on all cylinders, the man could do no wrong. Those first few days I’d spent wallowing away, devastated but at the same time heartened in some perverted way by how upset Will had seemed. I hated that he was hurting, but a small part of me hoped that the depth of his hurt translated into the magnitude of his feelings for me. But as the days wore on, it became apparent that aside from his initial outburst, he’d moved on just fine.

I couldn’t get away from talk in the office or reports in the media of how good his form was. One particularly hideous morning, I even got stuck between two guys on the crowded subway singing his praises. Apparently they’d never seen him have a pre-season like it. He was stronger, faster, more focused than he’d ever been—and unbeknownst to them, all since he’d walked away from me.

I tried lying, tried convincing myself that I was happy for him, happy that he was on fire in
his
year, the year he was tipped to lead the Warriors to Super Bowl victory. In reality it hurt like hell. Every successful pass, every touchdown, every press conference where he smiled straight down the barrel of the camera and told the world how fantastic he felt was like a stab to the heart.

So I was wearing the goddamn dress tonight and I didn’t give a crap if it was a low blow.

“There you are.” Carrie walked in with a grin stretching from ear to ear. “We couldn’t find you, and the first guests are arriving.”

“Oh, sorry, I’m coming out now.” I grabbed my clutch, following her back into the foyer.

Tonight’s event was the premier screening of a documentary on the history of the Warriors, and had been in the making for eighteen months. Had it not been for the fact that I’d be spending ninety minutes sitting in the same movie theatre as Will, I would actually be looking forward to seeing it.

“You look great, by the way.” Carrie nudged my shoulder. “You’ll be hard to miss,” she said, giving my side a friendly pinch.

I smiled. “Thanks.” And in a rare moment of honesty, I added, “Is it wrong that I don’t want to be missed…by him?”

“Not at all, I totally get it.” Squeezing my shoulder, she headed off to the cinema entrance.

Half an hour later, the red carpet was packed, current and past greats making their way down through the throng of media, some pausing for interviews, others just stopping for photos. I was so busy managing the demands of the media, I didn’t even notice his arrival until he was only a few feet away.

Will stared at me, eyes raking over my body in exactly the way I’d envisioned, but I was too busy noticing his arm, and the arm that was looped through it to feel any sense of satisfaction. My eyes followed the arm candy up to her neck and across her perfectly formed facial features, before making their way down her equally perfect body. It was her, Elena, the woman that was
no less than the fifth most beautiful woman on the planet
.

She was oblivious to me, far too concerned with looking perfect for the waiting press, and why shouldn’t she be? Tomorrow morning she’d feature on every news site in the city.

My gaze moved back over to Will, whose eyes hadn’t left me. Suddenly I felt ridiculous in my dress, a flush of heat ran through me at how wasted my efforts had been. At best he’d brought her along to taunt me, at worst—and the most likely scenario—he hadn’t given me a second thought when inviting her. He was simply back on the dating scene.

Sucking in some much needed air, I stepped towards them, a small voice of reason telling me to just do my job and get it over with.

“Will, hi.”

“Hey, it’s good to see you.” His smile was polite, nothing more, nothing less. It was the one I knew he’d give to every journalist in the line of waiting media and it killed me.

“You too. How are you?”

“Good. How are things with you?”

“Also good.” I smiled awkwardly, just wanting to get away from him. “If you’d like to–”

“How’s your job going?” If it wasn’t for the slight tic in his jaw, I would have thought his question genuine.

“It’s good, thanks for asking. I’m enjoying it.”

He nodded once. “Glad to hear it, wouldn’t want anything to be amiss. I know how important it is to you.”

I glared at him, shocked by the bitterness in his voice. “A reporter from
The Times
is waiting to speak to you.” Catching Dana by the tips of her fingers I pulled her to me. “Dana will help you get through the press line.”

I turned then, not waiting to check that Dana
could
in fact spare the time to get them past the waiting press. Making it to the relative privacy of the hallway that led to the restrooms, I slumped against the wall, willing myself to keep it together.

“You doing okay, Aussie?” I jumped as Buck appeared, planting a giant hand on my shoulder.

“God Buck, you scared me.”

“Really? Cause you looked like you’d seen a ghost well before I showed up.”

I attempted a laugh which came out more like a strangled moan. “I guess it was something like that.”

“Don’t worry, you weren’t the only one.” Buck tucked me under his arm in a brotherly gesture that was strangely comforting.

“Oh God, I deserve this, don’t I? It’s my own stupid fault for getting involved.”

“Nah, it’s your own stupid fault for walking away.” He squeezed my shoulders surprisingly gently for a guy his size before looking down at me. “Why don’t you try talking to him?”

We both looked over to where Will was now entertaining the media, Elena laughing at something he’d whispered in her ear. “Yeah, right, I’m sure he’s just dying to speak to me. He looks so cut up about the whole thing.”

“Don’t be fooled. The guy’s a master at keeping up appearances in public.”

I sighed, shaking my head. “Thanks for trying but there’s really no point. What’s done is done.”

Buck just shrugged. “Fine, don’t take my advice…no one ever does.” He kissed my cheek. “But look after yourself.”

Thirty minutes later the foyer had cleared out, all guests now bunkered down with popcorn and ice creams waiting for the movie to begin as Dana and I snuck down to the front to our seats. If only front row seats at the movies held the same prestige as being front row at a concert or a fashion show. Instead they just had a tendency to give you a sore neck.

About halfway through the film I was starting to regret my decision to have a large coke and popcorn, my pea-sized bladder shifting from gentle awareness to painful pressure between approximately the 1960’s and 70’s era’s in Warriors history. It was one of the few things in life that I never learned my lesson about, the combination of salty kernels of corn and sweet liquid sugar too good to turn down despite the mid-movie challenges they posed.

When I couldn’t stand it any longer I made my move, crouched down as much as my dress would allow to get to the aisle, saying a silent prayer when I made it to the cinema doors without tripping up the stairs in front of New York sporting elite. I lingered in the bathroom, thinking how good it would be to just sneak out and go home, to not have to worry about seeing Will at the end of the movie. As I walked back into the foyer, I was contemplating doing just that when my eyes met his.

I stumbled forward and his hand reached out to steady me on instinct, both of us pulling away almost as quickly as we’d connected.

Will had been leaning against the wall looking at his phone when I’d walked out.
Had he been waiting for me?
His casual stance reminded me so much of our last encounter in the corridor of the stadium that I recoiled slightly at the memory. It was painful to be alone with him again, in such different circumstances to all the other times. There would be no casual flirting this time around, no touching, no whispered promises of things to come.

“Why are you out here?”

He shrugged. “Not a big fan of the 80’s era.”

I nodded, not knowing what to make of his response. “Oh.”

He continued staring at me, but this time his eyes stayed firmly on mine, not wandering to roam over me like they had earlier. Just the force of his gaze was enough to put me off balance. It was torture having his attention once again so focused on me—I both craved and despised it in equal measure.

When he didn’t say anything I gave a small shrug and made to keep walking. “Well…have a good night.”

“Why’d you wear that dress, Emma?”

I turned back slowly, not wanting the flush of my cheeks to show the truth. After meeting his eyes I looked down at it, hoping to come off as casual. “I guess because it fits the dress code. Why?”

At my response he laughed, but his words were full of bitterness. “Right, of course it does.”

Even though his suspicions were right, I felt a pang of anger spike through my veins and the words tumbled out before I could stop them.

“Why’d you bring Elena?”

He blinked before throwing my words back in my face. “I knew she’d fit the dress code.”

And she did, every perfect feature of her was eaten up by the camera lens, the star quarterback and the beautiful model—what more could the press want? I pulled my eyes away from his, drawing in a deep breath as I focused on the zigzag pattern of the cinema carpet to calm myself.

“Why do you care who my date is?” His tone became soft, gentle.

“Why do you care that I wore this dress?” My voice was barely a whisper as I looked back up in time to see his arm extend to my side. Fire spread across my skin as his fingers traced a path from my elbow to my shoulder, so feather light I couldn’t be sure if he was actually touching me or if it was just the heat of his body so close.

My breath caught as I watched him watching his fingers on my skin, now trailing a path across my shoulder to cup my neck in his warm hand. It felt so good I wanted to sink into him, to shut my eyes and think of nothing other than what it was like when it was just the two of us, no one and nothing else in the way.