Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (36 page)

We’ll talk about it later,
I try to communicate telepathically to him. And somehow, the message must reach him, because he nods, and then looks back down at his mother, falling into easy conversation as we make our way down the sidewalk.

“Oh, Riley always wanted to be Batman when he was growing up,” Marcia says fondly. “He used to stick a cardboard mask on his face and jump off the garage roof, until I put a stop to it.”

I laugh. At least that explains why Riley was so adamant he’d be Bruce Wayne when he was wearing a tux, and not James Bond.

“
Mom
,” Riley says, looking pained. “Can you seriously not go for more than five minutes without embarrassing me?”

The three of us are sitting and drinking coffee at a cozy little diner, having finished our lunch. It’s been wonderful watching Riley and his mom re-connecting, catching up — they interact more like friends than parent and child. I’m one of the only people who ever dares argue with my dad sometimes, but it’s still always been very clear that he’s my
father
— I can only push so far. And he’s always had very strict rules for me. Riley and his mom just chat, joking about things like drinking and sex in a way that would catch me no end of trouble.

I was a little shocked at first, but now, I’m laughing right along with them.

“That’s not embarrassing!” Marcia laughs. “If I wanted to embarrass you, I’d tell Ava about the time you were seven and pulled your pants down in the middle of gym cl —”

“Oh my
God
, Mom!” Riley groans. “Seriously, stop.”

I’m choking with laughter on my coffee — so much so that a little of it spurts out of my mouth, and I have to grab a napkin to wipe my face with. I’d be embarrassed, if only it weren’t so obvious that neither Riley nor his mother cares at all.

Eventually, the laughter dies down, though, and Marcia turns to him, a serious expression on her face.

“I hate to bring the mood down, but I have to ask, Riley — what’s going on at the moment? I keep seeing all the most outrageous rumors.”

She hesitates, and I can see she’s a little hesitant to bring up the issue of Riley’s scholarship. I glance across at him, licking my lips.

Riley shakes his head. “It’s… it’s complicated, Mom. I
was
at the party, but I wasn’t doing any of the things they say I was.”

“So you
didn’t
punch that other boy?”

“Oh. Uh.” Riley looks across at me. “No, I did do that, but —”

“He only did it to protect me,” I interrupt him. “Bryce has been hassling me for ages. He was yelling at me and following me around. And he’s been trying to provoke Riley into a fight for a long time. Riley’s actually shown a lot of restraint. And honestly, given what happened afterward… it’s Bryce who should be in trouble, not Riley.”

Marcia nods a little as I speak. “Riley’s always had a temper,” she says. “But it sounds like that other boy has been asking for someone to shut him up for a good long time. Not that I’m condoning punching anyone, before you get any ideas into your head, young man. I didn’t bring you up like that.”

Riley smirks a little. “What about the time you slapped that guy who pinched your ass in the gas station parking lot?”

“Riley Knox, that was a different situation altogether!” Marcia says, shaking her finger at him.

“How?”

“It just was!” Marcia says, exasperated. “But if what Ava says is true, and you were doing it to protect her, then I suppose I can’t be
too
disapproving.”

“He did,” I say, rushing to reassure her. “I’ve been helping Riley prepare for his hearing tomorrow, to try to explain what really happened.”

Marcia looks worried. “There’s a hearing?”

Riley nods. “It’s for my scholarship. They’ll listen to what I have to say, and then make a decision. I
know
I’m telling the truth, but that fuckwi— I mean,
Bryce
, is lying about it. He says I punched him for no reason, and he denies he was ever driving his car.” For a moment, Riley looks totally miserable. I reach over, touching his hand.

“What will happen if they decide to cancel your scholarship?” Marcia asks, voice quiet.

Riley shrugs. “I can always transfer. I can get another one at a smaller college — or maybe even at a bigger one. I can move interstate if I have to. But….”

The
but
hangs in the air over the table. We all know what it means. Riley’s reputation for partying could seriously affect his future.

“It’s not going to happen,” I say, with more certainty than I feel. I want to tell them both that it just wouldn’t be
fair
— but unfortunately, I know that fairness rarely comes into it. The Lennox family are massive donors to the university. Bryce himself is prominent, and he’ll never own up to anything if he can get away with it. His parents indulge him, and they have more than enough money to hire the best lawyers and pay anyone off if they have to. They can discredit anyone who says they saw Bryce behind the wheel of his car — most people at the party were so drunk or high their statements wouldn’t be considered in the least bit reliable.

Riley runs a hand over his face. “Everything will be okay, Mom,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”

I nod. I can see he, too, is trying to sound more confident than he feels.

We’ve prepared as best we can — and there’s really not a lot else we can do. Unfortunately, I’m just not sure it’ll be enough.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

AVA

“Ava!
Ava!
Wake the hell up!”

I groan, trying to bury my face deeper into my pillow. It’s a Friday so I don’t have classes, and I’m trying to catch up on some well-earned sleep. Riley and I even  slept in our respective homes last night, just to make sure we could get some rest.

So the very last thing I need is Darcey bursting into my room and bellowing at me.

“Darcey, c’mon, please,” I say. “Can’t you see I’m —”

“Ava, seriously. You have to see this — and no, it can’t wait.”

She’s shaking my shoulder now, trying to get me to look at the iPad she’s waving in front of my face.

“Darcey, I swear to God, if you don’t —”

“It’s about Bryce,” Darcey cuts in, plonking herself down on my bed and pulling the covers down off my shoulders. “You
have
to see this.”

Okay. I admit, that does actually make me sit up and pay attention.

“Bryce? What about him?”

Darcey grins. “You know how you and Riley have been
swearing
that he was the one who tried to mow you down with the car, and he says he wasn’t? Well, I might just have something you’ll like.”

“What?” I blink at her, mouth open in shock. Darcey just shoves her iPad at me, hitting
play
on a video that’s up on the screen. For a moment, there’s nothing but chaos as the camera swings crazily around, getting shots of the road, people’s feet, and not much else. There’s a lot of indistinct screaming in the background.

“Darcey, what —”

“Just shut up and watch,” she tells me.

“Haha, fuck, this is awesome,”
says a disembodied voice on the video.

I know what I’m looking at — it’s footage someone’s filmed on their phone from the party last week. That much is obvious.

The picture tilts crazily up again, just in time to catch the sight of the burning couch as it sails from the second-floor balcony to land in a shattered, flaming heap in the middle of the road. More screaming.

“Just a moment now,” Darcey mutters, leaning in.

I lean in too, straining to see in the darkness and poor quality of the video.

There’s a lot of whooping and yelling, and then, over it all, the sound of tires on the road.

“Whoa, holy shit, dude,” the cameraman says, the picture swinging away from the flaming couch to focus on the headlights speeding down the road toward him. He manages to scramble away, filming his feet for several seconds as the car rockets up the road. “Hey, watch where you’re driving, you fucking dickhead!” he shouts, only for the car to halt in its tracks, then reverse back toward him.

I recognize that car. It’s Bryce’s.

The car stops as the cameraman keeps backing away, muttering expletives.

And that’s when I realize exactly why Darcey came charging into my room just now, waving the iPad in my face: leaning out of the car window, yelling profanities and with his middle finger stuck up high, is Bryce Lennox.

You can see his face clearly in the picture — it can’t possibly be anyone else.

And it
proves
he was driving his car that night, right at the time when he said he wasn’t. Right when he tried to mow down Riley and me, before plowing through the fence and into the pool.

For a moment, all I can do is stare in shock, gripping Darcey’s iPad so hard that for a moment I’m worried I might crack the screen.

“Holy shit,” I mutter, staring at it even after the film stops, and the player interface goes dark. “Darcey, where the hell did you get this?”

Darcey beams. “It was a friend of Brett’s — he’d totally forgotten he even filmed it, he was completely drunk. But he was going through his videos last night and found it. He uploaded it and sent the link to Brett, and because Brett knows what’s been going on with Riley —”

“Oh my God!” I scream, bouncing to my knees. “Darcey, this totally proves Bryce is lying about not driving his car! I
have
to show people this!”

“I thought you’d be interested,” Darcey says, smiling.

“You’re the absolute best,” I tell her, grabbing her and pulling her into a hug. “And please promise me you’re not going to just dump Brett after this. He’s a lifesaver. You should give him… I don’t know, some kind of reward blow job or something.”

Darcey rolls her eyes. “Oh man, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but… I don’t know, he’s kind of growing on me. He’s just so desperate to please me. He’s like having my own little servant. Who also happens to give really awesome head.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I say, holding up my hands. “I didn’t need to know that.”

“Well,
you
were the one talking about reward blow jobs.”

“That was a joke!” I say. “But yeah, he probably
does
deserve something.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Darcey says, her smile growing wicked. “But if you’re going to show this to Riley before his hearing starts, you better hurry.”

“Oh. Oh
fuck
.” I look at the clock. Riley’s hearing starts at nine o’clock sharp — which is in fifteen minutes. I totally thought I’d set my alarm for eight thirty, so Riley could call be beforehand if he needed moral support — but either it didn't go off or I’d been so exhausted I’d slept straight through it. “Email me the link to the video,” I tell Darcey as I scramble out of bed, ripping off my pajamas and shoving myself into yesterday’s clothes.

Fuck. Fuck.

There’s no way I can get to campus on time, let alone run across it and into the administrative buildings where Riley’s hearing is being held. Once I’m dressed, I grab my phone, calling him as I run out of the house.

If only I can get in contact with him, tell him what’s happened —

“
Hi, you’ve reached Riley Knox. Leave a message if you’re hot. Beeeeeeep.
”

“Fuck!” I scream out loud, hanging up and hitting his number again.

Same thing. Voicemail.

“Riley, please, for the love of God, if you get this, call me the fuck back!” I yell into the phone while I desperately try to wave down a taxi. By the time one stops and I pile into it, I only have seven minutes of my original fifteen remaining.

“I’ll pay you double if you speed,” I tell the driver, and he obligingly puts his foot down.

I know the administration buildings are on the east side of campus — in other words, the exact opposite side to the one we’re heading toward. I direct the driver, who turns the car like it’s on rails, weaving through the traffic, turning corners, whizzing through traffic lights.

“Oh my God, thank you
so
much for this,” I tell him breathlessly as we zoom past a red light.

The driver laughs. “Hey, no problem,” he says. “The customer’s always right, you know.”

I’m staring at the clock as it ticks away the final minutes to nine am. I bite my lip. I know I’m not going to make it. My only hope at this stage is that somehow, they’re running late, or Riley is, or that….

We jerk to a stop outside the entryway I’d directed the driver to. I only have two minutes left.

“Can you just drive me up there and into the parking lot?” I ask. It’s only a short way, but every second counts.

The driver hesitates. “It says staff access only there, miss.”

“Look.” I take my purse, dumping out all the money I have in it. Thankfully, I’d been planning on taking Riley out to a bar tonight to de-stress after his hearing, so I have plenty of cash on me. “Please, take all of it. I’m desperate — if someone asks you, you can tell them some crazy bitch made you do it. Please!”

The driver glances down at the money, then shrugs. “Okay, miss. Whatever you say.”

The taxi jerks forward again, turning down the driveway and speeding past the buildings, before coming to a stop in the parking lot outside the double doors of the lobby.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” I yell as I leap out of the cab, slamming the door behind me. I don’t turn back — I just run.

I try calling Riley again once more as I streak through the lobby to the bank of elevators. I punch the button to go up, swearing and muttering as yet again it goes through to his voicemail.

“Riley, please,” I say, feeling a sob rising in my throat. “I know you’re just about to go into your hearing, but I have something you
have
to show them. Please. Please. Call me back.”

When I pull the phone away from my face, I look down at the time — 9:02. I know I’m too late, but I still ride the elevator up to the sixth floor, where the scholarships offices are. When I step out, I’m hoping against hope Riley will still be waiting in reception — but when I get there, it’s empty. There’s nobody there except the desk staff.

I feel like crying.

I must look like it too, because the woman at the desk looks up, raising surprised eyebrows at me.

“Can I help you?”

I take a deep breath, trying to pull myself together.

“Yes,” I say, approaching the desk. “I was wondering if Riley Knox’s hearing has started yet?”

The woman cocks her head, sympathy briefly flitting over her face. “I’m afraid so — he entered the hearing just a few minutes ago. Are you his support person?”

I shake my head. Riley had taken in Coach Thompson for his staff support, but said he didn’t want anyone else, even though he could have nominated someone else as a supporter. He told me having me in there would just make him nervous. Okay, well, actually, he
said
it would just make him horny, but I chose to interpret that as nervous. I wouldn’t have been able to say anything or help him, so I agreed.

“No,” I tell her. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

I feel my shoulders slump. I’d been so hopeful….

I have to remind myself that I didn’t know about the footage of Bryce until barely twenty minutes ago, and that really, it changes nothing. We had prepared as best we could, and up until this morning, I had thought it would be enough.

I feel a shiver run down my spine.

Well, actually, that’s just the problem — I’d been worried that it
wouldn’t
be enough. Not if it was Riley’s word against Bryce’s. Not even if Riley was the one telling the truth. And with Blaketon now hunkering down into PR mode, it had to do something to demonstrate it was cracking down on anyone who was involved in that wild party. Expelling or punishing Bryce was out of the question. But cutting off Riley’s scholarship would be a huge show that Blaketon didn’t protect people who fell foul of their disciplinary rules, not even if they were the hottest player in college football.

It would all be pure PR, but it could make or break Riley’s future.

I swallow.

Pure PR.

The words drift through my head again.

I suck in a quick breath, as I suddenly realize that things are far from over.

Sure, Riley might not have the footage that puts him at least partially in the clear — or at least, that proves Bryce is a liar.

But that doesn’t mean it’s useless.

If Blaketon wants to play games with PR, then who do I know who plays PR games better than anyone else?

My fingers shaking a little, I pull my phone out of my purse and scroll through my contacts until I find Murray’s number.

He picks up after the fifth or sixth ring.

“Ava. Is this important? I’m a little busy.”

“Yes,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry to bother you, Murray, but I have to talk to you about this. It’s urgent — this needs to get out today. Now.”

Murray hesitates a moment, before I hear him sigh. “All right. What’s this about?”

I bite my lip. I know I have to sell this to him. He won’t do it if he can’t see the benefit in terms of press.

“I don’t know if my father already told you this, but… Riley and I have been seeing each other. I mean for real. Not as part of the story to make Dad more relatable.”

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line.

“I see,” Murray finally says. “No, he did not tell me that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quickly. “At least, it’s not the most important thing, anyway. This is about the party the other night. And it’s about Bryce Lennox. What if I told you I had some footage that I know some gossip sites would absolutely
love
to get their hands on?”

There’s silence, but I can tell Murray is listening.

“Everyone’s been saying that it’s Riley’s word against Bryce’s as to what actually went down that night, and whether Bryce really was driving his car when it went into the pool. I know Bryce is denying it, but I have footage that
proves
he was the one driving. There’s no way it can be doctored, and it’s totally clear that’s what’s happening. It proves Bryce is lying, and Riley is the one telling the truth.”