Surviving Us (30 page)

I know she’s trying her hardest to play matchmaker with me and Mo, thinking it will help get my mind off of Davis. I appreciate her effort, I really do, but I’m just not ready to let it go yet. However, I know that I can’t sit at home crying in my room all the time either, so I compromise.

“If we could hang out at our place, that would be great,” I reply, forcing a smile. “I’d love to be able to take a shower and change out of these clothes, and then relax a while.”

“Good idea. I didn’t even think about that. Since you have your own car, why don’t you drive with Mo, and Lucky and I will stop at the store to get some snacks and drinks?”

She’s relentless. There’s nothing I can do except agree without sounding like a total bitch.

“Yeah, that works.” I glance over at Mo. “Come on, Big Mo. It looks like you get to ride in the Ladybug.”

He grins. “Awesome. Sounds buggy.”

“Oh, it is.”

The four of us stroll out to the parking lot together, Lucky and Lyv breaking off when we reach his truck, leaving me and Mo alone for the first time as we slide into my red Mini Cooper. Thankfully, he’s able to fold his massive frame into the passenger seat with it pushed back as far as it goes. However, I’m not sure if
comfortable
would be the right word to describe his posture. I try not to giggle, but I fail miserably.

“Laugh it up, Flaca,” he teases with a goofy smile. “I’ll get you back somehow.”

Before I turn the car on, I decide to address the situation, just to ensure things don’t get weird between us. Twisting to face him, I stop laughing and bite my lip nervously. “Mo, can we talk about something real quick?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ve had so much fun these past few days hanging out with you, Lyv, and Lucky—the nights at Deli, chillin’ at the apartment, going to the movies, all of it,” I say with complete honesty. “Not to mention, I love finally having someone to talk about each day’s practices with, since you’re a part of it, and can give me even more insight than what I see on the sidelines. But, I’m afraid Lyv thinks she’s playing matchmaker with the two of us.”

He chuckles and nods. “Ya think?”

“Yeah,” I murmur softly. “This summer, I met someone and fell hard for him, but we don’t live close, and well, I’ve been a little heartbroken over the whole thing. She thinks if I move on, preferably with you, I’ll just forget about him and get over it.”

“Bristol,” he affectionately rests his hand on my shoulder, “please don’t worry about it. I understand. Truly. The reason I wasn’t supposed to be at the apartment until Sunday night is because I was back home with my girlfriend . . . or ex-girlfriend now, I guess. She broke things off with me last Friday night, and I got pissed, so I drove on up here—hence which is why I showed up in the middle of the night.”

I exhale a huge breath of relief. “Oh, thank God,” I mutter. “Wait, not thank God your girlfriend broke up with you. I just didn’t want things to be awkward between us, ‘cause I really do love hanging out.” My face is bright red with embarrassment over my poor word choice; I can feel the heat rising from my neck into my cheeks.

Mo laughs, at first a light laugh, but it soon turns into a hard belly laugh that damn near shakes my whole car. Naturally, I join in, and before I know it, we’re both a crying mess of hilarity, all while sitting in my car in the parking lot of my job.

“We’re a pair, Flaca,” he says when he finally catches his breath, squeezing my arm soothingly.

“Indeed,” I agree, finally starting the car and pulling out onto the street.

“And just for the record, you’re way too skinny for me. I like my girls to have some meat on their bones and an ass I can grab onto,” he teases me. “I’d be too afraid I’d break you.”

I stick my tongue out at him. “Oh shuddup! I’m not that skinny.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

We playfully bicker the entire drive to my apartment, and then to prove how skinny I am, Mo carries me with one arm up all three flights of stairs. Memories of Davis throwing me over his shoulder and bounding up the endless steps at the Ti Kaye beach instantly enter my head, reminding me yet again how much I miss him. What I wouldn’t give to see him one more time . . .

Later that night, I’m lounging on the couch watching SportsCenter with Mo as we both pretend not to notice the moaning coming from Alyvia’s bedroom, where she and Lucky disappeared to shortly after the movie.

“I want to be her when I grow up,” I state matter-of-factly when Sara Walsh appears on the screen. “She’s the ultimate package of a female sports reporter.”

“I want you to be her when you grow up too,” Mo jokes, ridiculously waggling his eyebrows at the beautiful anchor.

The throw pillow I’ve been snuggling up to goes flying at his head. “You’re such a pig. Just like all guys.”

He tosses the pillow back at me, laughing. “You’re gonna have to toughen up, Flaca. If you really want to do this for a living, you’re gonna spend a lot of time interviewing in locker rooms and such, and the crude, vile, derogatory language is just a part of it.”

“I know that. I can hold my own,” I insist. “You’ve seen me this week at workouts, right?”

“Everyone on the team has seen you this week,” he grumbles under his breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I challenge.

“Exactly what I said. You’ve been the topic of more conversations than I care to think about. Even the coaches seem to appreciate your daily presence in your cut-offs and OU tank tops.”

I frown, not at his apparent displeasure, but at the fact I’m obviously not being taken seriously as a reporter. “Really? That’s a bit disheartening. I thought I did a great job covering the team last year, and they all liked me because of that. Maybe I should wear a hoodie and sweatpants next week and see if they treat me the same.”

“It’s a hundred degrees outside; you’ll pass out with heat exhaustion, and then they’ll fight over who can give you mouth-to-mouth.” He sits up straight and looks at me seriously. “All you can control is the job you do. Don’t let the ignorance of others affect you. Kick ass on the paper, and one day, that
will
be you on the TV. It’s not just this business; it’s with everything in life . . . you gotta play the game. Use what they give you. There’s a thin line in being prideful and stubborn.”

I curl up next to him, wrapping my arms around his thick torso in a big hug. “I thought I was supposed to be tutoring you, not the other way around,” I murmur into his chest.

He crushes me against him, kissing the top of my head. “Just wait until algebra, Flaca. Your time is coming.”

“Thank you for being so awesome, Mo.”

“Thank you for being so skinny, Bristol.”

The following morning is Thursday, exactly three weeks since I returned from St. Lucia, and I still wake up thinking about
him
. I am also still guilt-stricken-mental-breakdown-free, which is incredible, but it almost feels like I’ve replaced one form of emptiness with another. I assume Alyvia is still asleep, as I haven’t heard any rumblings from her room yet. It was pretty late when Mo carried my sleepy self from the couch, where I’d passed out, to my bed before he and Lucky left, so I’m assuming she’s probably exhausted from her ‘workout’.

I roll out of bed and stumble over to my desk, turning my laptop on to check morning headlines and my emails as I do every morning. As I filter through most of the junk, my IM window pops up with Kayden wanting to chat. I groan aloud, then feel guilty for avoiding him, as well as Charlotte and Ashleigh.

Upon my return, I’ve been hesitant to log on to Enduring Life much. The few times I have, everyone has been posting pictures from the trip, which includes lots of shots of Davis and me together. My memories are hard enough; actually seeing the photographs is pretty much soul-crushing. Charlotte and Ash have both sent me emails saying they understand my absence and are there for me whenever I’m ready, but until now, I haven’t heard much from Kayden.

Reluctantly, I hit ‘accept’.

Kayden: Hey, baby girl. How’s school?

Me: Hi, you. Starts in 2 more weeks. I’m just here early working on the paper and made sure I got my waitressing job back.

Kayden: Cool. I’ve missed you, haven’t seen you on EL lately.

Me: Just been busy with the move and covering practices

There’s a pause. Hopefully, work pulled him away.

Kayden: Have you talked to your boy since you’ve been back?

No such luck with the work thing. I want to lie, but I don’t.

Me: No

This time, an immediate reply.

Kayden: Baby girl . . .

Me: I’m fine. Please don’t start.

Kayden: Want me to beat him up?

I laugh.

Me: No

Kayden: Want me to make you a voodoo doll and send it?

I laugh harder.

Me: No

A long pause.

Kayden: Want to come to NYC?

Me: Sure

Kayden: Give me dates. I’ll make it happen.

My reply was meant to be tongue-in-cheek, as I assumed his question was. But that’s what I get for assuming.

Me: I was kidding, K. I can’t leave campus until winter break.

Kayden: The city is beautiful at Christmas.

Davis’ warnings about single guys not wanting to just be friends with me echo loudly in my head. I may beg to differ with Mo, but I’ve got a feeling he may’ve been right about Kayden. I try to deflect.

Me: You’re crazy. I’ve gotta go work, which you should be doing.

Kayden: I’m crazy serious. This convo isn’t over, baby girl.

That’s what I was afraid of.