Poser (13 page)

“I want to go to the kitchen.” She patted my shoulder like I was her personal taxi. ‘Course, I’d carry her anywhere.

“Baby, you know we have roommates. We can’t be doing it right there in front of them all.”

Her giggle filled up the dark sky. “As interesting as you, me, the kitchen counter, and a can of whipped cream would be, that’s not what I was talking about.”

I pulled back, totally intrigued. “That’s it. We’re getting our own place.”

“Promises, promises,” she sang, teasing me.

Her hair was long and straight tonight. It floated around my shoulders as I walked us into the house. Just before I stepped inside, she pulled back and looked into my eyes.

“I love you so much, B.”

“Times two, baby,” I murmured. “Times two.”

She sighed and rested her chin on my shoulder as I carried her the rest of the way into the house.

It seemed everything else Missy said to her had been forgotten in the moment.

I wasn’t fool enough to think she wouldn’t remember, that those taunting words Missy used to imply someone around Ivy was keeping something from her would stay forgotten for long.

And now I was faced with an impossible dilemma: to tell or not to tell.

Should I tell her before someone else did in hate?

Or…

Should I keep my mouth shut and pray to God my lie didn’t take away the only woman my heart would ever beat for?

Ivy

I heard everything Missy said.

Everything she implied.

The energy around him electrified the second she spoke.

Not in a good way.

Oh God, Braeden, what have you done?

Please, don’t let it change us forever.

Braeden

She made me brownies.

And not just any brownies. Ones with sprinkles.

No one ever made me brownies except my mother.

That explained why she smelled like chocolate and what she’d done with her time before the game.

She was so damned cute about it too. The second I set her down in the kitchen (as requested), she shyly picked up a glass dish with a lid and held it out. Ivy never did anything with bashfulness, so I knew this was a big thing for her.

I took the container and ripped off the lid. “Baby, you baked.”

“I’ve never baked before. I don’t even know if they’ll be good. But I added extra sprinkles!” The enthusiasm in her voice made me smile.

I never would have told her about my love of sprinkles. I mean, come on. That was like the least macho food a guy could love.

My mother told her. I’d been pretty annoyed. Now I was kind of grateful.

“Best brownies I ever ate,” I announced.

“You haven’t actually eaten them,” she pointed out.

“So?” I quipped. “I got brownie radar. I know good ones when I see ‘em.”

Her teeth sank into her full lower lip, and I was distracted from the sprinkle goodness in my hand.

“Do you want to try one?” she asked, her voice tentative.

“Does a cow have tits?”

“That’s disgusting.” She made a face.

“Hand me a fork, woman!”

“You’re gonna eat them right out of the container?”

“Hells yeah. I ain’t sharing.”

She was nervous when she held out the fork. I dug it right into the center, noting the extra-thick layer of sprinkles. She probably dumped an entire container on here.

It made me love her even more.

I shoveled a huge bite in my mouth and chewed.

They weren’t as good as my mother’s, but they were pretty close. Considering this was her first try at making anything, I was damn proud of her.

When I didn’t say anything right away, her face fell.

I made a sound and shoveled another huge bite in my mouth. “Best ever,” I said as I chewed.

Her eyes rounded and looked up. “They aren’t terrible?”

“They’re the bomb.” I gave her a toothy smile I knew was full of chocolate.

Her face lit up, and my chest warmed.

Rome came in the kitchen behind us. “Oooh.” He looked over my shoulder. “Brownies.”

His hand shot out, and I stabbed him with the fork. “Hands off the goods!”

“Vicious!” He jerked away.

I shoved another huge bite in my face. The sprinkles were the perfect amount of crunchy and melty.

“I’m gonna go change so we can go,” she said, laughter in her voice. “I’ll bring you a shirt, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, baby,” I said around another mouthful.

Romeo watched our display of domestic bliss with amusement.

Prada was dancing around my feet, begging for a bite. “No chocolate,” I told her.

She kept begging, so I pulled out the bag of dog treats and gave her one.

“Whipped,” Rome mocked.

“Where’s your
cat
?” I countered.

He gave me the finger. After another bite, I put the lid on the container and slid it back onto the counter. I’d eat the rest later.

“Everything cool around here?”

“For the most part.” I shrugged.

Drew stepped into the room, and our talk was cut short. The three of us shot the shit while we waited for the girls to appear. When they did, Rome and Rim took the Cat, and me, Ivy, and Drew followed in the truck.

Screamerz was packed.

It was the prime hangout spot for everyone on campus. ‘Course, the Buzz that went out almost right after Missy hightailed it out of our place probably added to the crowd.

I hoped she wasn’t here, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think she’d stay home. She was lurking somewhere, collecting gossip and secrets to expose on her feed.

The second our group walked in, people zeroed in on Rome like he was some kind of tracking device that had been lost but was now found.

People started chanting his number, and the Wolves started howling.

He only laughed and shook his head.

We didn’t have to wait for a table because we had a place with the team. While Rome went around and talked to everyone, I guided Ivy toward our seats and picked up a beer. I needed one. Today had been hella long. I was looking forward to some chill time with my best friend and maybe a little after-hours action with my girl.

Ivy was looking like an eleven on a one-to-ten chart. It seemed her outfit (or attitude) had a little extra sass in it tonight.

The jeans she wore were skintight and so dark they almost looked black. She was wearing a bright-orange tank top with another looser shirt over it. It was white, cropped, and long-sleeved but had big cutouts at the shoulders, exposing her skin. The neckline was decorated with some kind of colored design and had two strings hanging from it with orange tassels on the ends.

Her hair was straight and fell around her shoulders. It was my favorite on her. The way the silky strands caught the light made me want to touch it.

Trent sat across from us, and she gave him a little wave. He grinned at her and saluted me with his beer.

Romeo and Rim finally made their way over, and he took up residence right beside me, pulling Rim into his lap. “Damn, it’s good to be home,” Rome yelled, and a beer appeared in front of him.

We clinked the glass together and chugged. Rimmel wrinkled her nose. Ivy leaned around me, and I slung an arm across her shoulders.

“Where’s your brother?” I asked.

She pointed on the dance floor. He was already out there and surrounded by women. He saw us and turned his smile up a notch.

Or ten.

“He’s got some game.” I admired that.

“He’s incorrigible,” Ivy said fondly and motioned for him to join us at the table. He disengaged himself from the ladies with some experience (clearly, he wasn’t new to the rodeo) and made his way over.

The seat beside Trent was open, and he pulled it out.

“Trent, this is my brother Drew.” Ivy made the introduction. “He drives a Mustang too.”

Drew took up residence in the chair and gave Trent an interested look. “A fellow gear head?”

Trent lifted his hands in surrender. “Only when I have some spare time. Which isn’t often.”

“Football?” Drew guessed.

Trent smiled. “That and a fraternity.”

“Sa-weet. You know enough about cars to hold a conversation, don’t you?” Drew asked.

I almost choked on my beer. I fucking could talk about cars all damn day. But since I didn’t drive a Mustang, I wasn’t considered worthy.

“Does a bull have balls?” Trent countered.

I laughed, but Ivy groaned.

Drew slapped him on the back. “I like this guy, Ives.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered darkly.

Drew looked at me, then Trent. “You and my sister?”

My eyes narrowed on Trent, waiting to see what he would say.

“Nah, man. It’s always been B for her.”

I relaxed. Ivy poked me in the ribs, and I kissed her bare shoulder. Drew and Trent dove head first into a conversation about Mustangs and car parts. Over my head, a tray of shot glasses full of blue liquid hit the table.

“Smurf Balls!” Ivy exclaimed.

Rimmel laughed.

“What is it with you two and these damn blue drinks?” I intoned. Beside me, Romeo groaned.

Ivy picked one up and tossed it down her throat. Rimmel wasn’t as fast to get hers down, but she was working on it.

Ivy stuck her tongue out, and it was already stained blue.

A current pop song started playing loud as hell, and Ivy got up and grabbed Rimmel’s hand. “Come on.”

Rimmel groaned, but she followed, and soon the pair was out on the dance floor, moving to the beat.

Rim was still a terrible dancer.

“How’s the team?” I asked Romeo.

“It’s good. Not the same without you.”

I nodded. I knew what he meant. Even halfway into the season, I still wasn’t used to playing on the field without him.

“How’s the arm? You getting some play time?” I knew he had yet to start a game, which was why I hadn’t been to one yet. Rimmel traveled to a couple of his first games, where he basically sat on the sidelines. I would have gone too, but with my own football practices, the scheduling had been tight.

But the first game he started and was on the field for more than a few plays, I was there. The Wolves be damned.

Romeo flexed his right hand and made a fist. “Arm’s good. Their therapists and trainers are top notch. I can’t complain.”

“Play time?” I pressed.

He shrugged. “Not as much as I’m used to.” He gave me a rueful smile. “I’m a small fish in a big pond over there.”

“People giving you problems?” I asked, my eyes narrowed.

“No, everyone’s cool. I just gotta prove myself. You know how it is.”

I did. I also knew that soon, Rome would be dominating the lead position of quarterback on the team.

“You’re getting lots of press.” His name was practically a mainstay in the papers and in the state. The title “Comeback Quarterback” was seriously sticking. Ron Gamble, owner of the Knights, was probably tickled shitless.

He flashed his teeth. “Press isn’t hurting.”

I chuckled. Rome was the golden boy of football in this state.

“How ‘bout you?” he asked. “How’s the Wolves doing this season?”

“Kicking ass and taking names,” I said. The guys around us all howled.

“How could we not be with The Incredible Hulk intimidating the shit out of all the other teams?” cracked the guy right next to Trent.

Rome lifted his eyebrow.

“Shit,” I muttered. That name was ridiculous.

“That you?” Rome asked.

Trent looked up from his in-depth bonding session with Drew and nodded. “He’s like a damn bouncer out there. All aggressive and shit.”

See, that’s the thing. All the other guys might have thought it was cool. They admired the way it helped the team.

Romeo knew better.

He knew my “Incredible Hulk” status was likely the product of shit going on inside me.

“We should talk,” he said so only I could hear.

“We should drink another beer!” I hollered. Everyone agreed.

After all our glasses were full, everyone went back to their own conversations. Romeo turned to me. “You talk to him? See him?”

“No. That ain’t what this is about.”

“Then what?”

I shook my head once. Not even Romeo knew the secret I carried around. I never told him about Ivy and Zach. I thought about it, but I couldn’t. Just thinking about it was hard enough. And I couldn’t do that to Ivy. I was loyal to Rome, but I was to Ivy too.

Plus… what if when I did, he said I did the wrong thing?

I didn’t think I could handle my best friend telling me how wrong I’d been.

“I decided to call him.” I hadn’t really meant to say that. I only wanted to turn the conversation away from him getting too close.

Hell, I hadn’t even realized I decided to talk to my father. I barely had time to think about it. But I guess the things Ivy said to me that night under the stars, about talking to him for myself, really resonated with me.

I probably made the decision that night, just hadn’t wanted to say it.

Romeo clapped me on the shoulder. “I think it’s good.”

“Yeah?” I asked. Up until this point, he’d kept his personal opinion out of it. As if he knew he’d influence me and didn’t want that.

“Hells yeah. Put it to bed, man. Once and for all.”

Now that I declared my intent, it felt right, and for the first time, I felt ready to face him.

I hoped to hell it wasn’t the beer and when I woke up tomorrow, I’d feel the same.