More Than a Memory (16 page)

“
A
beer
. Whatever you have on tap is fine,” I tell the waitress when she walks up to the table.

“ID,” she insists, her hand out.

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Seriously? It wasn’t an issue last week.”

“Oregon Liquor Control is here,” she informs, hitching her head toward the bar where a paunchy man in a bad suit is talking to the owner.

“Fuck,” I mutter. “Coke is fine.”

“Sorry, honey,” she whispers before heading back to the bar. “Things will be back to normal next week.”

First walking in on Olivia, hearing her say I love you to him, and now a twenty-year-old can’t get a damn beer—what kind of college town is this?

“That sucks,” Liam says, angling his beer up and taking a long pull. “Eventually, you’ll be a man.”

I grab my nuts over my jeans. “I’m all man, asshole.”

He grins around the mouth of his beer. “Shitty mood? I’ve got whiskey in the truck.”

“Not the best idea right now. Thank you,” I tell the waitress when she places my coke on the table in front of me.

“Whiskey is always a good idea,” he corrects. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I’m not talking to you about Olivia,” I warn.

I look away from him, contemplating going back to the apartment and taking whatever scrap of attention Olivia is willing to give me. Seeing JJ walk in, I tilt my head up in acknowledgment.

“I’ll tell you about that gorgeous little freshman,” he bargains. “You’ll want to hear about this thing she does with her legs behind her head.”

“Keep your sex stories to yourself, dumbass,” JJ says, walking up and clapping me on the back while looking at Liam. “This isn’t the fucking locker room.”

“Yeah?” Liam challenges. “Where’s SLS?”

“Not today,” JJ warns.

Liam’s eyes dart around the bar before standing up. “You two pussies are ruining my buzz. I’d rather hunt for hot chicks than sit here and listen to your sob stories about chicks you can’t have.”

“Jackass,” JJ mutters as Liam leaves us for a small group of girls near the jukebox.

“Coke?” he asks, looking at the untouched glass in front of me.

“Alcohol Commission is here,” I complain.

“Gonna be a sucky week around campus,” he says, holding his hand up to the waitress to order a beer.

“No doubt,” I agree. The waitress brings JJ’s beer as I watch the condensation drip down my glass, puddling at the base.

“Vulture, six o’clock,” he cautions around the lip of his bottle.

I groan when I see Simone sauntering up with what I used to see as a sexy smile on her face. This woman cannot take a hint.

“Boys,” she purrs, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I shake her off, forcing her to take a step back. My lungs burn from her overuse of perfume. How was I ever attracted to her? Caked on makeup, hair so full of product it’s more like a helmet, and a dark soul—all things I didn’t bother to see before opening my eyes and actually looking at Olivia. Things I took for granted until I had the opportunity to run my fingers through her soft, wavy hair and breathe in her delicate, feminine scent.

“That’s not very nice,” she pouts at my rejection.

I hitch a shoulder.

“Hey, JJ.” She turns from jilted at my rebuff to angry when JJ flat-out ignores her.

Simone sniffing around is the perfect way to round out my day. Yesterday was perfect—Olivia at practice, her lips on mine later at the apartment, my lips all over her. If I concentrate hard enough, I can still feel her pebbled flesh on my tongue.

Five minutes against the door led to a half hour on the couch—mouths tasting, hands exploring, hips grinding. We kept it above the waist—second base, as she called it—but it was absolute bliss and pure torture. Exhausted from the crazy day, she fell asleep in my arms, only to wake up and regret every second of it.

Refusing to take the hint, Simone continues to stand beside me. Advice from my mom and sister wage war in my head as I try to decide between mom’s, ‘always be respectful’, and Emmy’s, ‘some bitches deserve to be treated like shit’. Granted, my sister’s ire was mainly for the girl she caught her high school boyfriend fucking when she wouldn’t give it up, but still, seems fitting.

Fortunately, Simone makes the choice for me.

“I thought I recognized that girl from the diner, but couldn’t place her. I realized the other day she’s the crazy chick whose boyfriend offed himself on social media.” She smiles as if she’s just solved some big mystery rather than revealed how sick and twisted she is.

I sense JJ stand up from his chair just as Liam cages her in over her shoulder.

“I have the patience of a damn saint,” Liam whispers into her ear, just loud enough so our group can hear. “I let a lot of shit just roll off my back, but your dirty ass has crossed a line.”

JJ steps in closer, and I’ve never been more proud of my teammates. I only wish Olivia were here to see them come to her defense.

“Big mistake,” JJ taunts, a depraved look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.

“Daniels mentioned you disrespected Ollie the other day and I was going to let bygones be bygones since I wasn’t there—was just going to stay away from you, but then you come in here and spew even more trash.” The calmness Liam is displaying is more concerning than a raging bull, and Simone feels the same way standing with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

“Could have just kept your mouth shut,” JJ adds.

“But no,” Liam says. “You come in here and not only disrespect his girl, but you try to put a negative spin on the bravery Duncan Kelly showed? Tsk, tsk, little girl.”

“Bad move, Simone,” JJ cuts in.

I can’t find an ounce of concern for the tremble in her shoulders. She took it one step too far.

“So,” Liam continues, “here we are with a situation that got out of control and a decision on how it should be handled. Should be a tough choice.”

Her eyes widen, as if she realizes what’s going to happen. Apparently, I’m the only one in the dark.

“Not a tough choice at all,” JJ says.

“Nope,” Liam agrees. “Wanna give her the good news, Captain?”

“Love to,” JJ begins. “No ball players.”

“You wouldn’t!” she cries, stomping her foot like a petulant child who’s been grounded from her favorite toy.

“No cleat chasers,” JJ continues.

“I take it back!” she screeches, her wide eyes full of regret and fear. The tremble in her overdrawn lips is a plus.

“What’s done is done,” Liam finishes.

“Listen up!” JJ bellows, grabbing the attention of everyone in the bar. “Simone is blacklisted. Any guy caught messing with her and any girl caught hanging out with her is out!”

His umpire like voice echoes off the walls as Simone wails beside me. I huff an empty laugh.

“Time to move on, Simone,” Liam declares. “Your old ass was getting tired anyway.”

Cheers erupt around the bar when she scurries out alone.

“Now,” Liam says with a slap to my back, “back to looking for some freshman pussy.”

I shake my head while watching him walk back to the same group of girls he was speaking to before Simone lost her shit.

“That was intense,” I mutter, picking up my Coke and taking a sip for the first time.

“It was a long time coming. She’s been harassing the other girls, threatening them to stay away from the players, staking her claim,” JJ explains. “Today was just the tipping point.”

“Tainting the fish in your pond, huh?”

He shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t have fish or a pond, man.”

I leave it alone. The last thing I want is someone asking me about my situation with Olivia.

It doesn’t take long before I’m ready to leave the bar. No alcohol and my mood make staying pointless. I grab cheeseburgers and fries for both Olivia and me before heading home, knowing she probably hasn’t eaten all day because of her mood.

She’s in her room when I walk in, asleep in her bed. I head back to the living room, making quick work of my food and putting hers in the fridge.

Even upset and unsure about where we are heading, she told me she wanted me with her this morning. That’s the hope I hold to when I go back into her room, kick off my shoes, and climb in behind her on her bed.

I pull her against my chest, hating that I spent the evening without her.

“I missed you,” she mumbles, her voice thick with sleep.

I hold her closer. “I missed you, too.”

She stiffens suddenly and tries to wiggle out of my arms. I clench my eyes closed, immediately preparing myself for the rejection that follows when she thinks she’s talking to Duncan in her sleep.

“You smell like a slut,” she hisses, scampering away from me.

I lift my shoulder and turn my head to smell my shirt.

“Fucking Simone,” I mutter, pulling the offending garment over my head.

“Please leave,” she begs. Sighing dejectedly, she lowers her dull eyes, refusing me the gorgeous blue I’ve sought out for weeks now.

I shake my head back and forth, hating that she’s pushing me away once again. Always thinking the worst and pushing me away.

Her back against the wall, she hangs her head low, her disappointment clear in the dim light.

Two steps forward and ten steps back, jumping to conclusions, never wanting to let me explain—it’s getting out of hand.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my brows furrowed. “Wait—you think I fucked her?”

“You did fuck her!” she roars, pain from my previous actions floating in her eyes. Her lip trembles, breaking down the wall I can’t seem to build where she’s concerned.

“That was one night, Liv, and I’ve regretted it every single day since. You make me wish I’ve never touched another woman before you, but I can’t change my past any more than you can change yours.” I reach for her, only to catch empty air as she scoots farther down the bed, out of my reach. “Simone was at the bar tonight, spouting evil shit. JJ and Liam tore into her, then blacklisted her. She managed to put her arm around my shoulder once before I pushed her away.”

Her eyes widen and she finally makes full eye contact with me. “Blacklisted?”

I nod. “Listen—”

She holds her hand up, halting me. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I do,” I insist. “If you crawled into bed with me smelling like some other man, I’d lose my shit. You are the only woman I see, the only woman I want to spend every waking hour with. I don’t want you to doubt that. I don’t want you to doubt me. I’m here, Liv.”

Her eyes dart between both of mine, searching for truth, deception.

“I’ll go,” I say, getting out of the bed. Why would I think such an incredibly shitty day would turn around and end on a positive note?

“Come back after you shower,” she murmurs, her eyes lifting to mine.

Relief settles in my belly, and the tension in my shoulders slowly melts away at her words—an olive branch after such a stressful day.

I’ve never showered so fast in my life.

“
Y
ou’re back
.” I smile at Ainsley as she sits down beside me in the stands.

“Small doses of socialization seem to work best for me these days.”

She nods. “I understand. Maybe next time, it won’t be weeks before I see you again.”

I turn my head back to the Beaver’s practice without answering her. When I was here two weeks ago, I promised I’d meet up with her, only to turn around and avoid her calls and make excuses about leaving the apartment. When I said the words, I meant every one, but it’s been too easy to fall back into the routine of staying home and only leaving when Bryson offers.

“Any progress with JJ?”

She huffs an incredulous laugh. “Only in my dreams.”

“Sometimes, that’s the best place for them,” I reflect, my gaze remaining on the field.

My dreams have actually been calm—innocuous most nights. On nights when the memories are too strong, Bryson is there to comfort me because I haven’t slept alone in my bed since the last practice I attended. Sleeping in his arms has become one of the things I look forward each day. Physically, our relationship hasn’t progressed…but emotionally, I can feel myself opening up to him more each day. It’s growing organically in a way I never imagined possible at my age.

“He’s not blind. He’ll come around eventually.”

“Doubtful, but it’s not going to keep me from being around all the time, reminding him of my presence.” She leans back on her elbows and tilts her face to the sun, trying to catch the limited rays. October is coming to an end, and heat from the sun is sparse these days.

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have to be reminded, Ainsley. He’s well aware of you.”

She looks at me with hope, gearing up to ask questions about my comment, but stops short when the same group of loud girls from last practice stumbles into the stands.

“Ugh,” she groans.

“Ignore them,” I say.

Ten minutes later, I’m wishing I could take my own advice.

“Number two is seriously hot,” one girl pants. “I’d love to grip that dark hair while I face-fuck him.”

I cringe at her brashness. Where do these nasty girls even come from?

“That’s Bryson Daniels,” Ainsley pipes in.

The girls turn en masse, looking up at where we sit only two rows higher than them. From the looks on their faces, they didn’t even realize we were up here, but with the way they stumbled into the stands, it’s clear they’re not firing on all cylinders.

“
The
Bryson Daniels?” the face fucker asks.

“The one and only,” my friend confirms. They all smile from ear to ear, privileged to information I’m not. My skin crawls and I rub at my forearms, trying to will the unease away.

“This is Olivia, his girlfriend.” My head whips around and I glare at her, finding her thumb hitched in my direction.

I do my best to keep from narrowing my eyes. I know we need to be a united front while speaking to these women, but it doesn’t keep me from wanting to pull handfuls of hair from Ainsley’s perfect little head for outing me.

“He’s yours?” the young girl Liam was hanging all over a few weeks ago asks.

I have no clue how to answer her question. I can’t make claims on the man, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to claw these girls’ eyes out and stomp on their heads.

“He is,” Ainsley confirms for me. “You know what happened to the last girl who tried to pilfer her man, right?”

They shake their head in unison, like kittens watching a red laser dot on the wall.

“Simone was the last one who tried to
tramp
-ple in her territory.”

I chuckle at the emphasis while the four girls in front of us turn around and slink lower in their chairs. Oh, the power of a blacklist.

“That’s fine,” the face-fucker whispers. “I have eyes for the pitcher anyway.”

“Uh-uh,” I say, loud enough for them to hear.

They turn back again, their eyes narrowed.

Ainsley leans forward, a harsh sneer on her face. “Mine.”

“Better stick to the pimply freshman,” I suggest. “Or Liam.”

The girl from a few weeks ago shakes her head violently. “He’s too big for anal.”

Her friends grab her hand and drag her out of the stands as confusion races across my face.

“Why the fuck would she share that shit?” I ask, my nose scrunched.

“Saddlebackers,” she mutters.

“What?” I turn my face to her.

“They think only having anal sex keeps them virgins,” she explains.

“Wow,” I mutter.

“Yeah, they’re complete idiots.” She flops back in her seat. “JJ’s going to kill me.”

“For claiming him?” I do my best not to smile.

“Yeah,” she sighs.

“I think you’d be surprised.”

She doesn’t respond and spends the rest of practice in quiet contemplation.

* * *

“
W
hy are you so quiet
?” Bryson clasps my hand in his and settles both of them on this thigh as he drives us back to the apartment.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s something,” he persists.

“Just the saddlebackers in the stands.”

His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. “The what?”

My cheeks flush. Explaining it is much worse than using the slang term. “You know, chicks who have sex but not…you know, vaginal sex.”

His eyes cut to me, then back to the road. “Butt sluts?”

I can hear the mirth in his voice. “See, that term makes sense.”

“Saddlebackers,” he whispers. “That’s one Liam didn’t use. I’ll have to let him know he needs to bone up on his research.”

“I don’t even want to know.”

“Believe me, I’m not going there.”

“You’re not interested in anal sex?” I tease.

He waits until we’re at a red light before turning his grinning face to me. “You offering?”

“Ha! You wish, Casanova.”

“What did they say to upset you?”

I purse my lips, trying to find the right phrasing. I’m no longer upset after our banter, but I do have questions and need answers.

“They questioned what we were,” I reply, my voice low, unsure if I stepped over a line.

“What did you tell them?” Hope with an edge of caution fills his voice.

I shrug. “I couldn’t answer them. We haven’t defined this—us,” I say, waving my hand between us as I watch his face for a reaction.

“You need a definition?” he asks with a smile.

“I need to know what to say when people ask. Roommate doesn’t feel right considering the only thing staying in your room is your clothes.”

He squeezes my hand harder on his thigh.

“Just tell them the same thing I tell the guys.”

“What do you tell them?” I ask, arching a brow as we slow for another red light.

Releasing my hand and cupping my cheek, he says, “That you’re mine.”

When his eyes go back to the road, I turn my head, looking out the window to hide the smile on my face.

* * *

H
is
.

We’ve hardly spoken since we returned to the apartment. Other than deciding on tacos for dinner, we’ve just operated around one another in routine silence until the meal was prepared. He’s giving me space, probably wondering if he went too far with his proclamation, but space is the last thing I want right now.

“You’re not leaving any room for lettuce and tomatoes,” I chastise as he fills his taco shells with seasoned meat and cheese.

“Vegetables are for losers,” he advises, stuffing more cheese inside one shell until it cracks.

“Says the insanely fit guy who juices kale.”

“Aw, beautiful, that’s sweet. Are you worried about my health?”

I freeze at his words. His health will always be a concern for me. Surely, he knows that.

“Fuck, Liv. I’m sorry,” he apologizes, noticing the shift in my mood. “I’ll eat it on the side.”

I clear my throat as he piles diced tomatoes and shredded lettuce beside his tacos.

“You don’t have to do that,” I whisper.

“Look at me.” He gently grips either side of my face. “I’m as healthy as an ox.”

“I know.” And I do. He’s in prime, top physical shape, but Duncan was healthy too…until he wasn’t.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, pulling me against his warm chest. His strong heartbeat pounds against my ear, and I sigh, leaning closer into him, ease settling over me as some of my anxiety washes away.

It isn’t until this moment that I realize the distance I’ve been keeping between us has had a lot to do with my fear of losing him, too.

“Let’s eat and watch a movie,” he offers, stepping away from me.

“My turn to pick,” I taunt as we grab our plates and head to the living room.

“It is not,” he argues. “We had to watch that damn Legally Dumb movie the other day.”

“
Legally Blonde
,” I correct, ignoring the mix up between my hair color and the insulting word. “And you forced me to sit through almost three hours of football.”

“The Raiders were playing,” he responds, setting his plate down on the table and grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch.

I sit down, holding my plate high while he covers my legs. “It’s not like they’re from here, Bryson.”

“Oregon doesn’t have an NFL team. You should know that.”

“Really? Please tell me why that’s a requirement for me.”

He faces me, his dark eyes serious. “I play baseball.”

Shaking my head, I give him a dubious look.
As if that explains a damn thing.

“And I can name all MLB teams in both leagues and more stats than most men, but that doesn’t have any bearing on football. Baseball requires skill and planning. Any big brut can run down a field and plow over people.”

His eyes soften as his lips turn up into a grin.

He leans in to kiss me, and I wait for it almost impatiently.

“You make me hard when you defend my sport, beautiful,” he groans against my lips.

“You’re always hard,” I correct. I press a gentle hand against his chest, forcing him to take a step back. “Let’s eat.”

Thirty minutes later, my alarm goes off. We’re spooning on the couch and I feel him stiffen at the sound and what it represents. Without a second thought, I reach over and silence the phone before snuggling back against his chest.