I Bet You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  She said shit. I bite back a grin.

  “Well if you were on the couch, probably nothing happened.”

  She sighs. “I guess.” Giving herself a shake, she tightens her sweater around her shoulders and crosses her arms. “So, what’s the latest on the party? We all ready for tomorrow?”

  I set down my pizza, flip my notebook page, and run my gaze over my list. I feel as if I’m moving in slow motion. All I can think about is Ryker and what he said. I shove it down and bury it deep. “Yes. We’re meeting the pledges here and walking over to the game together. Then we’ll head to the house. Everything’s all set.”

  “And the players? Did Charisma take care of uninviting them?”

  I nod. Charisma eagerly volunteered to be the one to text Blaze. Her message said, If any football players show up, we will pull your nipples off. Really. We will.

  “She’s got it covered.”

  Margo nods. “Good.” Then she frowns and gives me an odd look.

  “What’s up?” I say.

  “You recall the day I was with Ryker in the science building and you showed up?”

  I nod.

  Her chest leans in over the table, and there’s a glint in her eyes. “I just remembered something Archer said to him. They didn’t know I was standing there, and it was hard to hear, but I caught the gist of it.”

  “What?” My lips tighten.

  “No, it’s not bad. I recall Archer giving him grief about a bet and Ryker saying he wasn’t doing any bets.” She squints. “I really think Archer was referring to you, because you had just walked past us.” Her teeth chew on her bottom lip. “Does that make you feel better?”

  I shrug. The truth is he told them he won.

  I sigh. “Are you saying you want Ryker at the party?”

  She waves her hands. “No, no! I don’t care about that anymore. That whole thing was stupid, and I never should have put my own issues with the Thetas over everything else…” She stops. “I’m just trying to be a good stepsister, I guess, and help you figure this out.”

  I smile. Something good has happened. We’re friends.

  Her eyes go past my shoulder and land on something. Her expression hardens. “There’s Archer. Don’t look, but holy moly, his face.”

  Of course I look. I turn around, and he’s coming out of the bookstore. There’s no Sasha next to him and no other players. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the top up, but it doesn’t hide that he now has two black eyes. His gaze darts around the student center and then he hurries down the steps and out to campus.

  My hands clench around my notebook. Shit.

  Margo grimaces. “He looks like someone beat the poop out of him.”

  “Again,” I say.

  Charisma has come in from getting her pizza and takes a seat across from me. “Yep. I heard about it in class this morning. Apparently Ryker showed up at his door, pulled him out in the hall, and pummeled him. Took four RAs and the house director to get him off Archer.” She chews on a slice. “None of his buddies helped him either. Not one single player on the defense.”

  My face is grim. “What’s everyone saying about me and Ryker? Does everyone know?”

  She gives me a pat. “No one is saying anything, and I’ve been pressing. There’s nothing on social media. Only assholes will talk it up anyway.”

  I nod.

  “What did Ryker say last night? Maybe he’s the one squashing this?”

  I shrug.

  I’m just so…done.

  And broken.

  Just talking about him makes my chest ache.

  I’m walking out of my writing class when I pass by my dad’s office. I see it two times a week as I walk this hallway and never once have I stopped to see if he’s there.

  Something’s different today. I feel different. Raw. Emotional.

  Hitching my backpack up on my shoulder, I ease over to the sign posted next to his door to check out his office hours. He doesn’t have a class scheduled right now, and when I knock on the beveled glass door, his gruff voice says, “Come in.”

  I open the door and step inside. It’s a spacious office with a big window, dusty potted plants, and a few shabby armchairs—typical professor. A large oak desk dominates the room with a line of heavy bookshelves behind it. My gaze lands there and stays.

  “Have a seat, please. Got to get these grades in before I lose my place.” He’s got readers on and is staring down at his desktop.

  “Okay.” I settle into one of the roomy green armchairs across from him.

  At the sound of my voice, his head pops up and he takes off his glasses, setting them on the papers in front of him. “Penelope! What a pleasure. I wasn’t expecting you. How are you?”

  “Good.”

  “Classes going well?”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  He stands up and comes out from behind his desk to give me one of his hugs. He pats me gently on the back.

  He looks down at me and smiles then frowns, giving me some space as he goes back to his desk. “How’s the job at Sugar’s?”

  “Great.”

  It’s our typical run-through of questions. Just like we always do.

  “I’m still at the library too.”

  He nods, looking perhaps a little excited that I’m here but also uncertain. His voice is careful. “Is everything okay?”

  Okay?

  Not exactly. My heart’s been crushed by a football player.

  But I don’t think that’s why I’m really here. I’m here because this has been a while coming. He’s worked here for three years, and I’ve never once visited.

  My eyes rove over the room and I see pictures of me in various places. One of a piano recital, another of me on a horse at camp, one of me in choir. My high school graduation is front and center on his desk. Mom took them all, and they’re copies I’ve never seen. I suppose she sent them to him. The only event he attended was my graduation. I take in the family photo of all of us this past 4th of July at his pool. He even had a special timed camera and arranged us altogether, me, Margo, Cora, him holding Cyan.

  He follows my eyes. “Not sure you’ve ever been to see me here. I’ve got quite the collection.” A sigh slips out of his mouth. “It was tough not being there for all your adventures.”

  But he’ll be there for Cyan’s.

  I tamp that feeling down, and really, it doesn’t have the bite it usually does.

  “I’m proud of you, you know.” He tilts his head toward my graduation picture. “I was never as smart as you.” He chuckles. “You definitely got that from your mom. Remember how she got you doing the word of the day when you were little?”

  “Yeah.”

  He leans on his desk, his eyes on my face, and I know he’s trying to suss out why I’m here, what I could possibly want—but even I’m not sure of that.

  There’s a cross-stitched piece of art framed on his wall, and I stare at it, feeling my eyes water. Cora made it, I’m sure. She’s always working on things like that. It’s big, about eight by ten, and has hearts on it with a stick family of five—and I guess it’s all of us. In the middle is a caption. Live love, breathe love, give love.

  I chew on my lip and hug my backpack.

  “Penelope?”

  A tear has made its way down my face, and I swipe at it. I take a breath, the words lingering at the periphery of my mind, the ones it takes having your heart broken to really understand.

  “I miss Mom…so much…” I stop and take the Kleenex he gives me.

  “I know, love.”

  I suck in a breath. “It hurts that you found someone so fast and then started a whole new family…”

  “I understand.” His voice is soft. “I didn’t plan on it. I came back for you, and in the meantime, I met Cora. Love works like that sometimes, comes right out of the blue and you see that you didn’t even realize everything you’ve been missing.”

  I nod and think of Ryker.

  “She’s my second chance, I suppose.
I love her more than anything—just like I love you. Unconditionally.”

  I let out a shaky breath. “You’re really trying. You got me a car, that interview with the book agent…” My voice drifts off.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  I wave him off. “No, it didn’t, but it’s good for me. I may get shot down a hundred times before I figure it out.”

  He agrees. “Whatever you do with your life, you’re going to be amazing, Penelope. Vivien raised a kind, beautiful person.” He pauses. “I want to be a good dad to you. I want to be better than I was when you were little.”

  I nod, my eyes watering again. “And I do want to be part of your family. I want it more than anything.” I whisper the last bit, and he makes a noise in his throat as if he’s overcome. He comes back around the desk to wrap me up in a hug, and I hang on to him—maybe for the first time ever.

  And everything with Ryker and the bet…I hug my dad and let it all go.

  Ryker

  Archer and I sit side by side in Coach Alvarez’s office. Just the sight of him makes me want to jump up out of this chair and pounce on him again, like I did last night when I showed up at his door.

  I smirk. I got some good hits in before the RAs and house manager managed to pull me off. I crack the knuckles on my right hand. I guess I shouldn’t have hit him with my throwing arm, but I wasn’t thinking straight. Not after Blaze showed up at Maverick’s and told me everything that happened at the library.

  The first thing I did was try to find Penelope. She was my first concern. Her. All her. I just wanted everything to be okay between us.

  Coach lets out a heavy sigh and considers both of us.

  He’s angry, I’m fuming, and Archer’s just pouting.

  “Well, boys. That’s quite a story you’ve both told.” He leans in over his desk, arms folded. “Let me be sure I have it right.” He levels his hard gaze at Archer. “Take your hoodie off, son. That’s just disrespectful.”

  Archer’s jaw grinds but he whips it off. He shoots a look at me. “With all due respect, sir, all you heard was Ryker’s story when he came tattling to you this morning. I didn’t make him take the bet or blab about his sexual exploits to the entire football team.”

  Coach jerks to his feet and points a finger at Archer. “Don’t you give me any fucking lip, boy. You and I and everyone on this coaching staff know you’ve been wrangling to win that trophy any way you could. It doesn’t take a genius to see your games. You wanted to be captain and you got it. You wanted to antagonize Ryker and you got it. And now you’re messing with the daughter of one of my best friends. It’s time to shut the fuck up and listen.”

  Archer pales as his mouth opens then shuts.

  I nod. “Guess you didn’t know that little tidbit, did you?”

  “Shut up, Ryker,” Coach snaps, but I don’t even care. I’ve got the taste of victory in my mouth, have ever since I woke up this morning and knew I had to do something before this spun out of control and ruined Penelope’s trust in me forever. I mean, I don’t think she’ll ever give me a shot again, but at least I can try to fix this mess for her.

  I went to Coach’s house at six in the morning when he was barely out of bed and hadn’t even had a cup of coffee. I was haggard, exhausted from getting almost no sleep, and desperate. In the past three years, he’s been more of a father figure than my own dad, and maybe it was that thought that spurred me to sit down at his kitchen table and let it all out. Archer and his games, the flat tire, the bets—how I feel about Penelope.

  Little did I know he was also Penelope’s dad’s coach years ago. Apparently, they still play golf together.

  He listened, cursing a blue streak with each revelation.

  And now here we sit.

  Waiting for judgment.

  He hitches up his pants and glares at both of us. “It ends today. We’re going to put this behind us and never speak of it again. If there is even a breath of it anywhere on social media or as gossip, you will be suspended from the team,” he growls. “This schoolyard nonsense is for babies. And not a fucking word will you speak to each other unless it’s you look nice today or may I buy you a sandwich kind of shit. Do you get it?”

  I nod. It’s all I want. A real team. “Yes sir.”

  He looks at Archer, whose lips are tight.

  “Speak!” Coach says, making him flinch.

  Archer swallows. “Yes sir. I understand. Does this mean I can still be captain?”

  Coach glares at him. “Neither of you are captains. Not until you prove me wrong by your conduct. Feel me?”

  We nod.

  “Good.” He comes around the desk. “Now, let’s go talk to the team.” Coach stalks over to me. “I’m giving you point on this, Ryker. Say what you want to your teammates and get it all out.”

  I give him a brief nod, and we walk out. I know exactly what I’m going to do.

  Penelope

  “You make a better Madonna than Madonna,” Charisma tells me as I plop down in the student section of the stands. I preen and strike a pose for her, my big cross earring dangling against my neck.

  “Do a turn so I can see,” Margo calls out a few seats over.

  I have a little room, so I do a pirouette in my black tutu and hot pink lace crop top, a consignment store find. The edges of the shirt are scalloped, and it comes to just below my titlets. A long black beaded necklace with a heavy cross pendant dangles to my navel, and a studded chain is wrapped around my waist and hangs down. On my feet are black booties with lacy socks.

  It fits the rebel in me well.

  Charisma gives me a fist bump. “Looking stellar.”

  “You look snazzy yourself. Indiana Jones, I presume.” I check out her pants, hat, and the whip that’s resting next to her.

  She toys with it. “It’s for Blaze. Later. I’m going to make him pay for not telling me everything.”

  Margo is in a pink business suit with shoulder pads, pumps, and bouffant hair. Connor is next to her and has on a Polo with the collar popped and penny loafers. Finally, it fits.

  “And that’s a touchdown, folks! First one of the game for the home team!” The announcer’s voice blares as the Wildcats score. I put my eyes on the field to see what’s going on. I was supposed to meet the Chi Omegas and walk over with them, but in the end, I needed some time alone to pump myself up before heading to the stadium. Part of me almost didn’t come, but eventually, I threw my clothes on and drove over here.

  It isn’t long before my eyes find Ryker’s jersey as he jogs off the field to let the defense go on.

  Our seats are close enough that when he reaches the bench and stalks toward the quarterback coach, I feel as if I can’t breathe. He’s magnificent dressed in his uniform. Broad shoulders. Tapered waist. Tightly muscled arms.

  He takes off his helmet and whips his hair out of his face. It feels like forever since we spoke though I know it was just yesterday in the early hours.

  Time moves differently when we aren’t together. Slugging along.

  I grab my purse and put on lipstick, freshening up my cherry red. I contemplate sucking on a lollipop, but I forgot to bring any.

  He looks up, his gaze searching the crowd, up and down the rows until finally he finds me. The air stands still and nothing seems to move as we look at each other.

  I can’t make out the details, but his face softens. He closes his eyes briefly and when he looks at me again, I imagine I see regret on his visage. Amid the screams of the crowd and over the heads of the cheerleaders, he mouths something at me.

  I shake my head at him and hold my hands up. No clue.

  Do I care what he’s saying?

  Part of me does. I want this anvil off my chest.

  “What’s he saying?” Charisma murmurs.

  “I don’t know.”

  She looks from him to me. “Uh, are you sure? Because it’s pretty clear to me what that is.”

  “I don’t know!”

  He waves his hands
and tries again, but another player comes along and gets his attention. He turns his head to look at the field then stares back at me. The other team has given up the ball, and it’s his turn to head back out. He sends me a final look and takes off for the huddle.

  I watch him.

  “Seriously? You didn’t see what he said?” She’s looking at me like I have two heads.

  “No.”

  She exhales, a thoughtful look on her face. “Let me ask you something: have you ever done or said something you really regretted like a second later?”

  I nod.

  “Have you done it recently?”

  I think. “I manipulated Ryker into coming to the party. I made him feel like a commodity. His words.”

  “Right. Sometimes we do and say not so great things to get the thing we really want—even at the expense of others.”

  My lips tighten. “He bragged about having sex with me.”

  “He’s a man. He reacted like a Neanderthal. Plus, dude, he’s never been in a relationship. He doesn’t know how to act. You’ve got to train him up right.” She gives her little whip a crack.

  I nod. “So what was he saying?”

  She gives me a little smile. “Pen, that’s something you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

  A couple of hours later, the game is over. We beat Georgia 7 to 35 and the fans are intense and excited. Without a loss yet, it looks like we might have a championship year.

  I’ve left the field and am in the parking lot almost to my new Volkswagen—yes, I’m driving it—when I get a ping on my phone. I dive into my purse.

  Part of me wants it to be Ryker.

  I think about those words in my dad’s office: Live love, breathe love, give love.

  My phone pings again before I can find it, and I let out a groan of frustration. It’s at the bottom of my purse. I let out an aggravated yell then finally snag it and yank it out.

  It’s him. My hands shake.

  Hey.

  The parking section I’m in is mostly deserted with no one around, so I drop my purse to the ground and hold my phone like it’s a grenade.

  What do I do? What do I say?