by Tabatha Kiss
I sit down at the table in our study room and pull out my geometry book. Every few minutes, I check my phone. No new messages. No missed calls.
I don’t really blame her at all.
CHAPTER 29
ALYSSA
I walk out of class and run right into Grant holding yet another cup of coffee cart coffee.
I heave a thick sigh as I take it from him. “He better be paying you to deliver these.”
“He is.”
Grant spins my cup around to show me the words written on the side.
Buzz buzz.
I retrieve my phone from my bag as the text message vibrates it.
Library. Second floor. Study room B. Now.
“Think you’ll actually go this time?” Grant asks, taking a sip from his own cup.
I inhale the strong scent of black coffee. This is the fifth cup in the last two days Grant has hand-delivered to me after class — all courtesy of Junior Morgan.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Or you can keep this up for a while longer. Three more trips to the coffee cart and I’ll be able to afford that jacket I saw at the mall last week.”
I give a short laugh. “In that case, I might wait it out.”
“In all seriousness, though.” He squares his shoulders. “Cut the guy some slack.”
“Why?”
“Because he did nothing wrong.”
I blink. “He asked you to lie for him, Grant.”
“He asked me not to mention it to you. That populates the gray area between truth and lies, in my opinion.”
“Hey, the guy can do what he wants. It’s not like we’re dating or anything.”
Grant chuckles. “Okay. Let’s try that one again. This time, with feeling.”
“Shut up.”
I walk down the hall, but Grant stays close.
“I’m just saying, maybe you should re-evaluate that last part,” he says. “Beta Kappas were throwing themselves at him all night and he politely declined them all faster than that retail hag and my credit card.”
“I will happily buy you that jacket myself, Grant.” I laugh. “You can stop hinting at it.”
“Yay! Friendship!” He holds up his hand and I give him a high-five. “Look, just go talk to him. Okay? Either put him down gently or make up. I don’t enjoy seeing you this miserable.”
“I am not miserable.”
He arches his brow at me. I suppose I can’t argue with it. It hasn’t even been two whole days and I already miss Junior. Late-night phone calls. Hidden texts. Impromptu study sessions.
“He declined them, huh?” I ask.
Grant nods. “Let him explain what happened in his own words. If you don’t like it, then we’ll sit across the quad and throw shade at him from now until graduation. It’ll be fun.”
I try not to laugh, but it’s impossible not to love Grant’s sassy side. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“Thank you,” he says. “You just earned me another twenty bucks.”
“What—” He takes off in the other direction before I can finish. “Traitor!”
“Bye, Alyssa!”
“Brutus!”
My phone tickles my palm with a new message.
Please.
I push the door open to study room B.
Junior immediately drops his phone and stands up from his chair. “Hey.” Surprise crosses his face. “You came.”
I close the door and lean against it. “Well, someone has to stop Grant from cleaning you out.”
He smiles. “It’s a worthy investment.”
I stand still and wait, unsure whether I should ask questions or if I should just let him speak. Despite everything we’ve been through and done to each other, this is the first time there’s ever been an awkwardness between us and I fucking hate it. All over a stupid party.
“I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence.
“For what?”
“For lying to you, to start.”
“Why did you?”
“I don’t know,” he says, thinking hard. “I guess I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”
I pause, feeling a light flutter in my gut. If cocky bastards everywhere needed a poster child, Junior Morgan would be the instant front-runner. I’ve never gotten the impression that he cared at all about what I think of him.
“Why would I be disappointed in you?” I ask. “You went to a party. That’s your thing.”
“I was supposed to be studying,” he says. “I was on my way to the library when I got your text asking how it was going. Rather than explain the whole story, I said it was going good. I didn’t know that Grant had already told you I was there.”
“Junior — party, study, fuck, kill — I don’t care. You can do whatever you want. The one thing I don’t get is why you didn’t mention the party when I asked what you were doing that night.”
He takes a step forward. “I wasn’t going to go to the party, but the team invited me at the last minute and when I said I needed to study, John and I fought about you and I felt like I needed to make it right with—”
“Wait, you fought about me?” Unease rises in my chest. “Why were you fighting about me?”
“Not you, specifically. But with how much I study nowadays, he kind of figured out that I have a tutor.”
“Why does that mean you have a tutor?”
“What else would make a guy like me suddenly care about my grades, Ally?”
“Okay.” I nod slowly, seeing the logic in their reasoning. “But why would a tutor cause a fight? Why would Kirby even care?”
He opens his mouth to answer, but hesitates. “Because… he…”
His eyes fall to the floor between us.
I sigh with annoyance. “He what, Junior?”
He keeps his head down. “He wanted to borrow you and I got a little defensive.”
My lips twitch at the red in his cheeks. “You…” I push the chuckle down. “You defended me?”
“Yes.”
“Like…” I exhale a quick laugh and his head jerks up. “You defended my honor?”
He narrows his eyes. “He was out of line. Coach was, too. He said you weren’t worth starting fights over.”
My smile drops. “He said that?”
“Yeah, but…” Junior shifts on his feet. “I’m sure if he knew I was defending you, he wouldn’t have said it.”
I nod, but I don’t believe a word of it. “So, they still don’t know about us?”
He shakes his head. “John and I made up at the party, and I confirmed that I was involved with my tutor, but I didn’t say it was you. The only one who knows is Ty, but he’s not saying anything.”
“Are you sure?”
“If he was going to tell somebody, he would have by now. Trust me.”
I take a deep breath, feeling better but still annoyed — especially at my father’s dismissive remarks. Daughter or not, he obviously doesn’t give a shit about treating women with respect. Never has.
“Ally…” Junior takes a step forward and lays his hands on my arms. “Are we okay? Please tell me we’re okay. I’m officially out of cash.”
Small blooms of comfort travel up my body, reacting to his touch. “Of course, we’re okay,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You defended my honor.”
“Good.” He picks up his phone. “Now that that nonsense is settled, I wanted to show you this.”
I try to sneak a peek while he taps and swipes, but he tilts the screen away from me. “What is it?”
“The TA posted our test grades this morning.”
I step closer. “Already?”
“Yup.”
I fidget with anticipation. “And?”
He finally turns the phone to show me. My jaw drops.
“Ninety-two?!” I snatch the phone from his hand. “Junior, that’s awesome!”
“Best damn math grade I’ve ever gotten in my life. All thanks to my lovely tutor.”
“I h
ad nothing to do with it.”
“Bullshit.”
“This was all you, Junior.”
“It was us,” he says. “I never would have had it in me without you… well… letting me in you.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Wait…” I pinch and zoom.
“What?”
“Just making sure you didn’t manipulate this.”
He takes the phone back. “It’s real, I swear.”
“I know. I’m proud of you.”
“Good.” He leans in, chewing on his lip. “Now that the hard part is over, I suggest you pick up the biggest bottle of lube you can find, Alyssa Pierce.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Uh-huh…” He grabs my arm and tugs me toward him, twirling me around. I place my hands on the table in front of us. “Because I’m going to own that field tomorrow and then I’m going to take you home with me… and I’m going to own that ass, too.”
I swallow, instantly throbbing at his words. “Don’t get too cocky, Junior,” I whisper, craning my head back to look at him. “This team slaughtered you last year, remember?”
“Oh, they won’t this time,” he says, dripping with confidence. He inches forward, pressing himself against my rear, and I melt for him. His hand slides up my thigh and disappears beneath my skirt. “Cross my heart.”
I grow tense as his hand slides between my cheeks. He kisses my neck, breathing heavily against my skin as he rubs my tightness.
I let out a soft moan. “Let me feel it…”
He doesn’t ask questions, nor does he deny me.
His zipper falls. “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” I turn to feel his lips on mine, but he refuses my kiss.
Junior smiles and pushes his tip against the entrance…
He lets go, and it falls away from me.
I gasp. “Wait, more—”
“No…” he says. “No, you’ll take it when I want you to take it, Ally. I own you like I own that field every weekend. Say it.”
My core flinches, forever manipulated by his perfect, dirty mouth. “You own me.”
He spanks me once and steps away, pushing himself back into his zipper. “We’ll continue this tomorrow night.”
I lower my skirt back down. “Maybe we will.”
“Meet me at my place after the game?”
“Actually…” I spin around, laying my skirt down. “We have an early rehearsal tomorrow, which means I’m free to attend the game.”
He blinks. “Really?”
“I may only catch the second half, but that’s the only part that really matters, anyway.”
His eyes narrow. “You’re going just to psyche me out, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“It’ll take a lot more than that to rattle me on the field, Ally. Once I’ve got my eye on the ball, nothing can stop me from getting it to the end zone.”
“Let’s hope so.” I kiss his cheek. “Because my end zone is really looking forward to your balls.”
Junior bites his lip. “That little mouth of yours… is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m going to stick my dick in it later.”
I crack up and shove him backward. “That was so weak.”
“Sorry. I couldn’t resist…” He pauses, his gaze lingering on me for a long moment, but I’m too busy staring back to count the seconds. “Coming over tonight?”
“No.”
“No?”
“Well, I don’t want you to get bored with me,” I joke.
“You’re right.” He smiles. “Don’t want to ruin a good thing.”
“Exactly.”
Junior grabs his backpack off the table and tosses it over his shoulder. “If I don’t see you between now and then, I’ll see you after the game.”
I nod. “After the game.”
“Bye, Ally.”
“Bye, Junior.”
He steps out into the library and the door is barely even closed before I’m grinning like a fucking idiot. It’s one of those deep smiles, too. The kind that completely takes you over and refuses to let go until your face muscles can’t take it anymore and you end up feeling the pain for days.
Junior Morgan defended my honor.
That means something, right?
Based on his reputation before me, I have to imagine that chivalry was low on his list of priorities. The fact that he took my side over his teammates has to mean something.
Or maybe I’m grasping at straws again. Maybe I’m so desperate to make something from nothing that I’ll cling to even the slightest of chances that there could be something there that resembles a real relationship. That didn’t go so well with my father. What makes me think Junior Morgan is any different?
A chill rolls down my back, the latest of many that have shaken me today.
I sit down at the table and wait for it to pass.
CHAPTER 30
JUNIOR
I lied.
Thinking about Alyssa Pierce sitting out there in those bleachers is absolutely psyching me out.
She’s there right now, watching every hike, toss, and move I make. She’s going to notice if I fumble, slip, or fall.
I scan the crowd again, searching for her long, brown hair, but I can’t look for long before I have to get my head back in this game.
I cringe at the scoreboard.
We are losing by eight points, and there’s only one minute left in the game.
I look at my teammates and I see it on their faces, just as they can probably see it on mine.
It’s over.
The ref blows the whistle, signaling a time-out. Cary Pierce bellows my name from the sidelines. I sprint to meet him, slightly annoyed by the nonchalant nod he gives me. Can’t he see how fucked we are?
“What’s wrong, Junior?” he asks.
Dirty Alyssa thoughts linger in the back of my mind. I force them away, hoping he can’t read them through my face guard. “We’re losing,” I say.
“Losing happens in your head first.”
“There’s less than a minute left, Coach. There’s no way we can—”
“That’s plenty of time for a touchdown and a two-point conversion,” he says over me. “That will tie us up and we’ll wipe them out in overtime.”
I look over my shoulder at the field. He’s not wrong, but it’s a risky play, especially with us sitting fifteen yards outside the red zone.
He knocks on the side of my helmet. “Get out of here. Get in here.” He lays a firm finger against my chest. “You know what I’m seeing right now?”
“What?”
“Weakness. It’s all over your goddamn face and I guarantee your team sees it, too. Your team needs you, Junior. The quarterback falls and the rest follow. What are you going to do about it?”
“I think—”
He knocks hard against my helmet again. “Get out of here. What are you going to do?”
My mind goes dark, surrounded by an ether of cold nothingness. I can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I see Alyssa’s face instead, standing out amongst the dark gray wisps.
“I’m going to fake the hand-off,” I say through sudden clarity. “Put the focus on the halfback and run it in myself.”
Cary Pierce smiles. “Go do it.”
I rush back onto the field, igniting screams in the surrounding crowd. Pure adrenaline fires through my limbs and it never stops tingling, even as we huddle up. I watch the look of shock on my team’s faces shift into powerful confidence.
We’re going to fight this right down to the very last second.
Suddenly, the idea of Alyssa Pierce watching over my shoulder isn’t so bad.
My team stands in formation, creating phantom twitches to their left, making it as obvious to the other team as possible.
“Hike!”
The center snaps the ball back and I catch it, twisting around to lay it into John’s cradled arms — but I tuck it beneath mine instead.
>
John sprints to the left, taking half the offensive line with him, and the defense falls for it.
I bolt to the right, slipping around them with the ball safely in my hands, and the crowd explodes.
A few on the other team notice. They jut forward to grab me, but I’ve already gained the momentum to dart right through them.
With the end zone in sight, I pick up my speed, running on pure adrenaline all the way to the goal. Ty rushes in after me, slamming against me in celebration.
But the game isn’t over yet.
There’s still a two-point conversion to worry about.
I look at the crowd, searching for her face, but I still can’t find her.
We head to the three-yard line. If we don’t nail this play, the game is over. We lose.
And I’ll never hear the end of it from Alyssa.
“Just pop it up,” Ty says, pounding once on his chest. “I’ll catch it.”
He rushes to the end of the line with the rest of the wide receivers.
I fill my lungs with humid air.
Then…
“Hike!”
The next few moments blur past me. I feel the ball in my hands. I see the rage of the defensive linemen, just as determined to win as we are not to lose. I smell the turf beneath me and feel the crushing weight on my chest. Multiple tackles crash in front of me and my team falls.
I let the ball fly from my fingers, arching high toward the center of the end zone. It spins downward and a dozen hands launch into the air, so many that I can’t even tell who is who.
Finally, the whistle blows.
Ty stands up with the ball clutched in his hands.
Holy shit.
I watch the numbers tick up on the scoreboard. Tie game.
I lock eyes with Cary Pierce, feeling that insane rush from my head to my toes.
We’ll wipe them out in overtime.
You bet your ass we will.
They didn’t stand a chance.