Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (30 page)

I feel… unsettled. Things have been getting weirder and weirder lately. First everything with Ava, and now my mother suddenly coming back out of the blue like this. I don’t usually feel unsettled, by anything. I’ve always known my path in life. It’s been clear to me since I was a kid.

But now, for the first time, I feel conflicted.

I don’t really know what I want.

Actually, that’s not quite right. I
do
know what I want. But I don’t know
why.

I’ve never been able to stick to just one girl. I’ve never even tried to resist the temptation of the pussy buffet that’s been laid out for me ever since I started playing football seriously.

But for the last two months, all I’ve been able to think about is Ava.

And I almost told my mom she was my girlfriend today. What the fuck was that about?

I shut off the water and start toweling myself off.

The hot shower hasn’t done anything to clear my head. I hate feeling this way — I hate doubt and uncertainty. They’re useless emotions. It’s like Ava said — if I want something, I go for it, and I’ve always been clear about what I want.

Wrapping the towel around my waist and going into my room, I quickly get dressed.

I have afternoon classes, but I already know I’m going to blow them off — sitting in class is a chore at the best of times, but when I feel like this I know I won’t be able to sit still.

I pace the room a few times, feeling like a caged animal.

The only thing I want to do right now is….

… The only thing I want to do is see Ava.

Somehow, I think that seeing her will help get rid of my doubts and clear my head, one way or another.

Even if, at the moment, I don’t know whether I want to keep her close to me forever, or push her away as fast as I can.

Grabbing a sweatshirt, I slip it on over my head before heading out the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY

AVA

I’m in the kitchen making some grilled cheese when I hear the intercom buzzer.

In the end, I decided sulking in my room wasn’t going to solve my problems, or make things up to Darcey. She was right, after all, and I was behaving pretty badly. I still have no idea what I’m going to do about Riley. It’s not just because my father wouldn’t approve, though — it’s also because Riley hasn’t really given that much of an indication that he’d even
want
to be my boyfriend, if we had a chance together. He’s said he likes fucking me, and he’s said he appreciates some of the things I say. But both of those things are very different from agreeing to be in an exclusive relationship with someone.

And that’s what it’d have to be, if I were going to be with him: exclusive.

I don’t think I could handle it if Riley told me he ‘just had to be him’ and that I was ‘impinging on his personal freedoms’, or that ‘sexual fidelity and romantic fidelity are two different things’, or whatever other bullshit justifications I’ve heard my friends trot out as to why their partners think they need an open relationship. Even Darcey’s come out with a few of those when her boyfriends get too clingy.

But I also know that Riley Knox is Riley Knox, and expecting monogamy from him is… not likely.

“I’ll get it,” Darcey calls from the lounge, before I hear her footsteps through the apartment. “I’m expecting Brett.”

I focus on grilling the cheese I promised her as an ‘I’m sorry’ snack.  Whatever else you can say about my cooking, I make a mean grilled cheese. Griddle the bread on both sides of each slice — that’s the trick.

I flip them over, enjoying the smell of the melting cheese. Perfectly browned! I allow myself a mental high-five.

Darcey appears in the kitchen, her eyebrows raised, arms crossed over her chest.

“What?” I ask her, a moment before Riley follows her through the door.

I inhale sharply — I was
not
expecting to see him there. I mean, I’ve barely figured out what I want to say to him, or what I
should
say to him. I know we have to have a serious talk, but… well, it’s not like I’ve been in a relationship before, and these things don’t come easily to me. I’d wanted some time to consider before I saw him.

“Riley?” I ask, before I turn the gas off, and transfer the grilled cheeses to a plate. I’m trying to do anything to avoid looking at him. “What’re you doing here?” I ask, when I can’t avoid it anymore.

Darcey scoops up her sandwich, tossing it between her fingers to avoid burning herself, and hurriedly departs. I don’t say I blame her. I realize I sound, at best, not especially pleased to see him.

If Riley’s noticed, though, he doesn’t show it.

“Hey, grilled cheese,” he says, scooping up the second sandwich and shoveling it into his mouth.

“That was mine!” I say, and I sound more genuinely angry than teasing. And I am, a bit — my nerves have felt utterly frayed all day, and the grilled cheese was going to be something to cheer me up and try to help me calm down. A bit of comfort food before I have to try to figure out just how worried I should be about the photo, and what Murray will make of it.

Riley just shrugs. “Mine now,” he says, shoving the rest of it into his mouth. He’s eaten the whole thing in two bites.

I stare at him in anger for a moment, before exhaling angrily and getting more cheese out of the fridge.

“Is there some reason why you’ve come here, except to be completely obnoxious?” I ask him, as I slice myself some bread to make a new sandwich.

Riley is silent. I glance up at him. He looks jittery for some reason — which is not something he’s ever looked before. Usually Riley’s a solid rock of a presence — he seems to fill every room he enters, and not just with his physical size. But now, he seems… out of sorts. “Is there something wrong?”

“No,” he says quickly, and then he grins. I feel a little of my annoyance melt away at the sight — he has a fucking gorgeous grin. “I just thought I’d come over here and get some ass.”

My annoyance is back in a flash. After the photo, that’s really the last thing I feel like doing.

Okay, so that’s a lie, and as soon as Riley says it, half of me immediately wants to drag him upstairs to my room and ride him cowgirl-style ’til I can’t see straight.

The other half — the half I should listen to — tells me that that would be the stupidest thing ever to do right now.

“Have you seen this stupid photo of us in the
Blaketon Eye
?” I ask him, not looking up from the chopping board.

“No. What photo?”

“There’s a photo of us at the gallery opening,” I tell him. “You’re touching me in it.”

Riley shrugs. “So? I touch you all the time.”

“But this time it was in public!” I snap. “It’s obvious we’re not faking it — if my dad sees it, he’ll hit the roof.”

“Who cares?” Riley shrugs for about the fiftieth time since he came here. “I mean, he has to find out sometime.”

“Not like this he doesn’t.” I sigh in frustration. What about this is so hard for Riley to understand? How many times have we talked about this? “
If
I was going to say something, then I’d want it to be on my own time, in my own way. Not because he saw some photo of you being so handsy!”

“
I’m
being handsy?” Riley’s starting to sound really pissed now. “You’re the one who’s always begging me to fuck you.”

“I have never
begged
you to do anything,” I say, turning to him angrily. “And you always knew we weren’t supposed to really have a relationship. You
knew
what we were doing had to be kept secret.”

“This again?” Riley rolls his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s about time you got over it? So there’s a photo of us — who cares? Maybe it’ll do your dad some good to realize he can’t control you.”

“He doesn’t
want
to control me,” I say. “He just wants to protect me.”

Riley raises one eyebrow, before reaching past me and grabbing the slice of bread I
just
cut to remake my sandwich. Without pausing, he shoves it into his mouth, chewing.

“That’s pretty lame,” he says, after he swallows.

I just stare at him. It’s like he’s
trying
to get into a fight with me.

“Why are you here, Riley?”

“Like I said, I was horny and I thought you might be up for something.”

I shake my head. “Is that all?”

“I don’t know — what’re you thinking of? It’s not like we can go out. Someone might
see
us.”

“Oh my God!” I say, throwing up my hands. “You’re being completely infuriating! What’s your problem?”

“Hey,
I
don’t have a problem,” Riley says. “You’re the one who’s being completely weird and freaking out about a
photo
.”

I take a deep breath, bunching my fists and trying to calm down. 

“Okay,” I say, speaking slowly and trying to be calm. “Okay. So obviously you came here today just to try to get laid and provoke me into an argument, and not necessarily in that order. Is there any particular reason? Is there something you want to say to me?”

Riley is silent for a while.

“I dunno,” he says eventually.

Well, I guess that’s my answer right there.

I don’t know why, but his lackadaisical answer and his refusal to take any of my concerns seriously just makes my heart sink. It confirms to me that Riley doesn’t really see any future for us, beyond having sex. Otherwise, why wouldn’t he try to talk to me? Why wouldn’t he give my question a proper answer?

For a long moment, we just stare at each other. I’m groping for the words I want, to try to explain how frustrating it is when he just brushes off my worries as if they’re nothing, but I feel like my words are strangling each other in my throat.

The horrible silence is broken by my cell phone suddenly beginning to vibrate on the counter.

I jump, shocked, and look down at it, my heart sinking even further when I see it’s my father calling.

“I have to get this,” I mutter, turning away from him and picking up the phone.

Riley just shrugs. Again.

Ignoring him, I pick up the phone, answering it.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, trying to sound casual. “What’s up?”

“Ava. I hope this isn’t a bad time?” Dad’s voice is formal, and a little cautious. The way he gets when he has to discuss something he doesn’t especially want to talk about. I swallow.

“No, not at all,” I say. “Is anything wrong?”

Way to go, Ava
, I think to myself.
Just lead him right to the idea that there’s some problem.

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line, during which the only thing I can hear is the pounding of my heart.

“Ava,” my father says at last. “Murray called me this morning. He says there’s been… some photo of you, or something like that, with this football player. What’s his name again?”

“Riley,” I whisper, feeling my throat squeezing tight.

Riley looks up at the sound of his name. I turn away, hunching over a little.

This is awful. I feel like someone is punching a hole straight through my chest. First the argument with Riley, and now being quizzed by my dad. I don’t want any of this, and I certainly don’t want it all at once.

I’d envisioned a nice, reasonable chat with Riley, where we talked about our ideas for the future, found out if our expectations were in harmony, and made a decision from there. And then, at some point, maybe, in the future, talking to my dad about the idea of us being a couple.

But Riley’s deliberately annoying behavior and now all my worst fears coming true about the photo have just left me feeling panicked and cornered. I don’t know what to say.

“Well, whatever the case, Murray asked me to give you a call to ask you about it. Now, I haven’t seen it myself, Ava, but it was enough for Murray to be concerned about… well, you know he can be oversensitive, and he likes everything to be just
so
. This close to the election, he doesn’t want any surprises being sprung.”

I feel tears in the corners of my eyes. I know what he’s going to ask me. And I know what I’m going to say.

I want to run away and hide.

“You know I have the utmost faith in you, Ava, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to calm Murray down,” Dad continues. “So you can just tell me straight — there’s nothing really going on between you and this footballer, is there?”

I feel like the world has stopped spinning on its axis. I have to steady myself by grabbing the counter with my free hand, and for a second, I really feel like I’m going to faint.

I turn my head slightly to see if Riley’s listening — and of course he is. Why wouldn’t he? He’s clearly listening intently, waiting to see what my answer will be.

There’s a sickening silence on the other end of the phone. My dad is clearly waiting for my answer.

“Ava?”

I close my eyes.

“No, Daddy, of course there isn’t,” I say.

When I open my eyes again, it’s just in time to see Riley’s back as he storms out of the kitchen.