The Heartbreaker

by Claire Contreras

  “I guess I am.” I keep my gaze on his. “What do you want?”

  “The paper, Jo.”

  “The paper. Of course.”

  “Well, apologizing again seems futile.” He shrugs a shoulder.

  “The paper isn’t signed yet.”

  “I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for you to sign your name on a paper that states you won’t divulge secrets of our relationship.”

  “I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for you to understand that you’re asking me to lie.”

  His jaw clenches.

  I cross my arms.

  “What do you want me to do, Jo? I need this done. I want this done. Sign it and we can both move on. If you never want to see me again, this is the perfect segue to that.”

  I have nothing to say to that, so I glance away, arms still crossed. The morning joggers are out. I focus on them. Overachievers.

  “Have you told Jagger?”

  “About what?” I meet Lawrence’s eyes again.

  “About what happened.”

  “I haven’t told anyone about what happened, Lawrence. That should be reason enough for me not to have to sign a damn paper.”

  “Coach isn’t going to let it go and my agent definitely won’t let it go.”

  “Fuck your coach and your agent.”

  “You’re not going to be saying that when my agent starts paying you a visit instead of me.”

  I glare. “Fuck. Your. Agent.”

  His jaw twitches again. He glances over my head and fixes on whatever is there. It takes me a minute to realize Jagger probably stepped outside. I look over my shoulder and confirm it. He’s standing there wearing athletic shorts and no shirt. His hair is all crazy like he just got fucked, which, isn’t not true.

  “I guess I’ll see myself out,” Lawrence says, looking at me again. He looks pissed. His face is blotchy. “Sign the paper.”

  I wait until he walks away and turns to continue walking down the street before I turn around and make my way back to the house. Jagger’s still standing at the door. He holds it open for me and shuts it behind us, locking it before he turns to me.

  “You okay?” His eyes are full of concern as they search mine. I nod. “What did he want?”

  “To apologize. Again. And for me to sign that stupid paper,” I add, my voice a little quieter.

  He stares at me for a beat. Waiting. Finally, he simply nods and starts walking to the kitchen. “You want coffee?”

  “Sure.” I follow him.

  We sit down and have our coffee in silence, until he breaks it.

  “Do you want to go to brunch?”

  My gaze snaps up to his. “Today?”

  “Yes today.” He chuckles.

  “Just me and you?” I frown, wondering if there’s some kind of catch. Brunch isn’t dinner though, so technically he’s not really giving me any special treatment.

  “Unless you want to invite someone.”

  “Sure. I mean, sure to brunch. I have no one to invite unless I invite Misty and she’s going home to have breakfast with my mom.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “Let’s just say I’m not on the best terms with my parents right now.”

  “Because of the accident?”

  “Yeah.”

  “They can’t possibly blame you for it.”

  I shrug and drink my coffee.

  “What really happened with volleyball?”

  “What do you mean?” I swallow.

  “You loved that sport. You were on the team and you were freaking phenomenal.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I went to some of your games.”

  “When?” I sit up straighter. This is news to me.

  “When my parents came into town. They always wanted to see you play.”

  “Oh.” I frown. “I remember them going, but I don’t remember you being there.”

  “You seemed intent on staying away from me, so I always left and waited in the car when the game was over.”

  “Oh.” I glance away and focus on my nearly empty mug.

  “Why was that?”

  “Why was what?”

  “Why’d you act like you absolutely hated me? I mean, I carried that guilt for a while, thinking maybe I said or did something wrong that night, but . . . man, I’ve been over it in my head so many times. I don’t understand what happened.”

  “It wasn’t you.” I met his eyes. “It was . . . it was a me issue.”

  “So, what happened with volleyball?”

  “Do you ask all of the women you’re casually fucking for specifics on their lives?” I sit back and keep watching him.

  “Only when curiosity gets the best of me.” He sits back and mimics my pose, but he’s shirtless and all I can see are his muscles.

  “Where do you want to go for brunch?” I ask, trying to steer the conversation in another direction. Jagger knows this.

  “Anywhere you want to go.” His mouth tips up slightly.

  “I don’t have a preference. I just need to shower and get ready.” I stand up. He stays sitting, looking up at me with those toffee eyes that look almost golden today.

  “You need help in the shower? I can be very thorough.”

  A shiver runs down my spine as I set the mug in the sink and start walking away. I look at him before I’m completely out of the kitchen. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

  As I’m walking down the hall, I hear him scramble to his feet and smile. I know he’s not mine forever, but I’ll settle for right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jagger

  I wasn’t kidding when I said I normally don’t take girls on dates and it is apparent in the way I keep glancing over my menu to make sure Jo is still sitting in front of me. Jesus. Why am I so nervous? I’ve been inside of her, I’ve had my tongue on every inch of her body, and yet sitting at a restaurant with her is what makes me nervous? We’re sitting across from each other in a big booth, so it’s not like we’re holding hands or anything, and yet, I feel this way.

  She sets her menu down and looks at me. “I’m going to have the Cinnamon Toast Crunch pancakes.”

  “I think I’ll have the same.” I set my menu down.

  “You want to share?”

  “Do I want to share?” I chuckle. “Not particularly. If it’s too much for you, I’ll have the rest.”

  “Okay.” She smiles. “I hate wasting food.”

  “Same.” I smile back. The waitress comes over and gasps.

  “Jagger Cruz.” She smiles wide. “Long time no see.”

  “Hm.” I smile, nodding. I haven’t been here in a while, but I’m not sure if Beth’s talking about that or about us hooking up last year, so I keep it simple. “How have you been?”

  “Good. Better now that you’re here.” She’s still smiling when she looks at Jo. “Oh. Are . . . is this a date?”

  “We’re friends,” Jo says. “I’d love some coffee and we’re both getting the Cinnamon Toast Crunch pancakes.”

  Beth seems at a loss for a second, but she nods and smiles and takes our menus before walking away.

  “Another one of your casualties?” Jo asks.

  “My casualties?”

  “Casual hookup whose heart you broke.”

  “Uh, yes to the first one.” I rub the back of my neck.

  “Are you uncomfortable right now?” She laughs lightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look uncomfortable.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever had to explain myself to anyone. Normally women ask about other women in passing, not . . . ” I shake my head. “I’ve never taken a woman to brunch.”

  “Why is that?” She leans forward a little, placing her elbow on the table and her head in her hand. “Are you afraid they’ll fall in love with you if you give them dick and feed them?”

  “Why does it sound so ridiculous when you say it?”

  “Because it is. It’s pretty apparent that your ex-hooku
ps fell for you pretty hard, and you never fed them, so I think there’s a flaw in your little plan.”

  “Is this your way of telling me you’re falling in love with me?” My heart hammers. Shit. I really went there.

  “No.” She scowls. It’s the prettiest scowl, her small nose scrunching up like that.

  Soon, Beth is back, wordlessly setting two mugs and a pot of coffee on the table for us before walking away. She doesn’t even ask if we need anything else. Not that I care. I’m still looking at all the shades of pink Jo’s cheeks are turning.

  “So, volleyball,” I say. She can’t escape that subject here. Not unless she flat out says she doesn’t want to answer the question and I really hope she does because for some strange reason I want to know.

  “No one knows what happened.” She keeps her eyes on the mug of coffee she just poured and slides it over to me before pouring one for herself. I lift mine and cheers her as a thank you.

  “No one? Your absence is . . . obvious. I’m sure some people know.”

  “No one knows.” She sighs, taking a sip of coffee and setting down the mug, keeping her hands linked around it. “I was in a car accident in the summer and got a DUI.” She meets my gaze. “I’ve never said this aloud.” She licks her lips. “My parents got my record expunged. I had to do community service during the summer and then once that was done, they thought it was only fair that I paid them back for the damages.”

  “It was your dad’s car, right?”

  “Yeah. The fucking Maserati.”

  “Ouch.” I wait a moment because shit, she totaled that car. “DUI, huh?”

  She nods, still looking at her mug and suddenly I understand why she really doesn’t want to talk about it. A DUI is a big deal, but for her to get one? I can’t even imagine her parents’ reactions.

  “I don’t know if I want to play football anymore.” I swallow a gulp of hot coffee and look at her. Her eyes snap up to mine. “My shoulder has been fine for a few weeks now. The PT at UNC says it’s fully healed and it is, I know it is, but . . . ” I shake my head and say the words I haven’t even spoken in front of my brother. “I’m scared.”

  “Of what?” Jo’s frown deepens. “Getting hurt again?”

  “Yes. No.” I shake my head, letting out a laugh. “I don’t know.”

  Jo doesn’t say anything for a beat, and then stands up and walks over to my side of the booth, sliding in. “Scoot.”

  I scoot, looking at her like she’s gone mad.

  “Talk to me.”

  “I . . . am talking to you,” I say slowly.

  “Why are you scared?” she whispers.

  “I don’t know. I’m not kidding. I really don’t know.”

  “Are you scared that you’ll get hurt so bad that you won’t be eligible for the NFL?”

  “I . . . ” Damn. I suddenly wish I could take back my words and rewind the conversation because I am not ready to talk about this over brunch. “I don’t think I want to go pro.”

  “What?” she blinks. “Why?”

  “That’s the issue. I don’t know why. I mean, not exactly anyway. I think this injury opened my eyes to all the others that will come. I guess I don’t want to feel like a failure. I don’t know. I’m technically not even in my father’s shadow since I don’t play his sport, and yet here I am.” I shake my head, letting out an exhale. “What kind of an athlete doesn’t want to go pro?”

  “A fake athlete.” She nods, pursing her lips. “You’re a faker.”

  I blink.

  She laughs, nudging my shoulder with hers. “I’m joking.”

  “Don’t joke like that.”

  “Stop frowning.” She leans in and puts the tips of her fingers to my temple. “You look hot when you frown and I can’t kiss you in public.”

  “You’re all over me, Josephine. If you kissed me right now, it would make no difference.”

  She laughs loudly and looks around. “Shit, am I messing up your game?”

  “Completely messing up my game.”

  “Would you be pissed if I kissed you and someone took a pic?” She searches my eyes.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Really?” She raises an eyebrow and I realize she’s seriously asking me this question.

  “Why would I be mad?”

  “Lawre—” She stops herself with a shake of her head.

  “Lawrence what?”

  “He was big on no public affection.” She sits straight in her side of the booth, looking forward suddenly. “Of course, that would explain the cheating.” She swallows and glances at me quickly. “You were right about that.”

  “I’m sorry that I was.”

  “Are you?”

  “I truly am. Why would I want you to get hurt?” I frown, then frown more when I realize I almost told her I love her. But I can’t. I mean, I don’t. Right?

  “I’m not saying you wanted me to get hurt.” She stops talking when Beth brings our food.

  Beth, who takes a full, shocked step back when she sees us sitting on the same side of the booth, but doesn’t make a comment about it. We start eating and stop talking. After a few bites, she glances up at me.

  “I’m sorry I was so mean to you when you warned me.”

  “I’m sorry I had to warn you.” I meet her gaze and set my hand over hers. We look at each other for a long moment before I say, “I thought you were going to kiss me?”

  She laughs before leaning in and kissing me quickly, but she keeps her hand beneath mine as we eat—her with her right hand, me with my left, and I find that I don’t want to let go. Unlike Lawrence, I don’t care who sees me with her. I don’t care what they say or assume. I like Jo. I want her more than anyone I’ve ever wanted before, and yes that thought scares me, but not more than what’s going to become of us once this is over. I’m her rebound, after all.

  “So did they kick you off the team because of the DUI?”

  She yanks her hand from mine and looks at me. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

  “I just told you about my shoulder.” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to swear not to tell anyone.”

  “Can we pinky promise?”

  I chuckle, holding my pinky out. “Sure.”

  “I pinky promise I won’t tell anyone your deepest, darkest secret.” She wraps hers around mine, then raises an eyebrow. “Your turn.”

  “You need me to say it?”

  “Yes.” She shoots me an exasperated look.

  “I pinky promise I won’t tell anyone your deepest, darkest secret.” I roll my eyes and pull her hand to my chest instead of dropping it. “Tell me.”

  “Lawrence was driving that night.” She bites her lip, pausing momentarily. “He was driving. We got into an accident and when the cops got there, I took the fall. After, when Coach found out, she . . . ” She looks away, tears in her eyes before she blinks rapidly and looks at me again. “She kicked me off the team. I’m not the kind of player they want on their team.”

  “Why would you . . . ” I drop her hand and shake my head. “Why would you take the fall for him?”

  “I just did.” She shrugs. “He was freaking out and kept going on and on about the NFL and I just did it and he didn’t outright ask me to do it, but I felt like he needed me to and I did. It was the right thing to do.”

  “You lost your scholarship.”

  “My parents have the money to pay for my classes,” she says. “Thankfully.”

  “You . . . my God, Josephine.” I shake my head.

  “I know. I’m fine though.”

  “You’re fine?” I shoot her a look. “You are not fine.”

  “What was I supposed to do? I would have done the same for you.”

  I pull away. I know it’s not meant to be a diss, but I can’t help it, I take it as one, because putting me in the same box as Lawrence? I can’t. If it would have been me, I would have owned up to my mistake. If it would have been me, I never would have put myself in that situation to begin
with. That is what ultimately makes me start brooding. The rest of the time we’re there, there’s no hand holding or joking around. I focus on my food, pay the bill, and ignore her. She’s pissed off too, I can tell, so it doesn’t bother me half as much when it’s time to leave and she slides out of the booth and doesn’t even wait for me to follow.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jagger

  “I will never understand why girls are so soft on guys.” I take another swig of my beer. “I mean, we can all agree that Lawrence is a bitch, right? But for him to cheat on her, of all people and her just let him?” I shake my head, shrugging a shoulder. I leave out the part about the DUI and her taking the fall for him because as mad as I am about it, she made me pinky promise I wouldn’t say anything and I intend to keep my word. “I just don’t get it. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe the air she breathes.” When I finish talking, I look at both my brothers to find them staring at me with blank faces. “What?”

  “You really like her,” Mitch says.

  “Of course I like her.” I frown. “I mean, she’s cool and sexy as fuck.”

  Mav starts laughing first. “You more than like her. Holy shit. Romeo’s in love!”

  “I am not in love.” I point at him. “I never said that.

  “You didn’t have to.” Mitch chuckles, setting down his beer. “Damn, I leave for a little while and my little brother falls in love.”

  “Fuck you.” I look at him, then at Mav. “And you.”

  “You know Mom invited them over for Thanksgiving,” Mav says. “I guess you can break the news to the family there. Wait, unless you want to take that time to propose?”

  I shoot him a look. “I’m not proposing and I am not in love. Can we get back to the topic of women being weak?”

  “But they’re not,” Mitch says.

  “Of course you say that.” I roll my eyes. “Momma’s boy.”

  “You’re a momma’s boy too,” Mitch shoots back, then looks at Mav. “So are you, so don’t even think about denying it.”

  “I would never deny that,” Mav argues.

  “If she was weak, she would never have broken it off with Lawrence,” Mitch says.