Matters to Me: A Football Romance (The Hart Series Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  “How you feeling? You ready for this weekend’s game?” Jaxon claps me on the back as we start the walk across campus like we do almost every day at this time.

  “Yeah. I feel okay.” Not totally true, but not a lie either. I just don’t feel like having another in-depth conversation today. Not with my thoughts and feelings all tangled up like they are. “I need to study the game tapes a little more, but physically I feel good. Ready.”

  “It’s New Mexico State,” he scoffs. “I think you can relax a bit. They’re not much competition.”

  I disagree. I can never relax regardless of who we play. “They won a bid for a bowl game, Jax. We didn’t.”

  “They barely got that spot because of a fucking field goal and an alumni association that has been vocal for the last several years about not being picked. I think you’re good.”

  I grunt my response because he doesn’t understand. It must be nice to not have to worry about the future and the where money is going to come from to take care of your loved ones. Or to not be concerned if a dream job falls apart, you’ll end up doing something you hate because it’s the only thing you know, and no one ever pulls out of the financial holes they’re in.

  Those are all things I worry about daily. Things my roommate will never have to even think about.

  Not that Jax necessarily has it easy. He wasn’t born with a silver spoon in his mouth, or anything. When he decided to go to med school, his dad wasn’t happy which caused a bunch of tension. Tension I heard about almost daily. But once they hashed it out, the plan was set in motion. All Jaxon has to do now is pull the grades and ace his MCAT. His name alone will help make him a contender for enrollment almost anywhere he wants to go, and the finances will be taken care of by his dear-old-NFL-legend dad.

  I don’t hold any of it against him. Jaxon is the best guy I know. But I admit to feeling a little envious sometimes. I just have to keep my eye on my own prize and that means never relaxing. Never discounting a team we’re up against. Never acting like a game doesn’t matter. They all matter. Until that pro contract is notarized and my signing bonus is safely tucked away in the bank, every move I make counts for or against me.

  “How are you feeling anyway?” I know I’m deflecting, but I need to get my brain off my family and the upcoming game. Spinning this conversation back onto Jaxon’s issues seems like the best way to do that. “You still feeling run down?”

  He bristles, and I know this is going to be a short-lived discussion. “I’m good.”

  “Jax—”

  “Nope. Not talking about this. Like I’ve told you and my girlfriend almost daily, I’m fine.” His jaw clenches in anger which should deter me. It doesn’t. He’s not taking this as seriously as he should.

  “Dude, we’re worried about you. I’ve seen the statistics.”

  “As have I,” he says angrily. “It’s not that. Leave it alone.”

  “Fine,” I grumble, irritated that he’s not taking his health seriously and yet irritated at myself for acting like a fucking helicopter parent. I can’t let it go, though. We’re not talking about a fucking common cold. We’re talking about making sure he doesn’t have cancer again. I don’t think it’s that—at least I hope not—but with his history, he doesn’t have the luxury of powering through illness. Hell, I don’t have the luxury of standing back while he tries. “You better figure out something before Thanksgiving next week, though. Your dad is gonna be all over your ass if you’re still dragging like this.”

  He harrumphs and I know he realizes I have a very good point. Doesn’t stop him from being an ass though.

  “Since you seem to want to talk about uncomfortable topics, how about you tell me what’s going on with you and Lauren?”

  I look at him quizzically. “What do you mean? You were there. You know exactly what’s going on.”

  Jaxon shakes his head, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Nu-uh. Having a fake girlfriend…” he lowers his voice, which I appreciate, “… means being seen at a party here and there. Maybe sitting at the same table at the library. It doesn’t mean walking her home from practice every day and going out of your way to study in the same dorm room, where there are no witnesses to your interaction.”

  I shrug, trying to buy myself some time. How do I explain something I don’t even understand myself?

  “Hanging out is nothing new.”

  “Hanging out without Annika and me as a buffer is new.”

  He’s right. And I know what he’s getting at. Sighing, I decide to lay it on the line. Hell, maybe he can help me sort my shit out. “I don’t know, man. She needed my help and it’s not like it’s a hardship to study in the same room as her. I have my Beats on anyway.”

  “Nope. I’m not buying it. I think you decided you don’t hate her anymore because you think she’s hot and want to bang her.”

  I shove him, hard enough that he steps off the sidewalk.

  “Hey!” he protests. “These are my new kicks. I don’t want to muddy them up yet.”

  “Since when you do say the word ‘kicks’?”

  “Since I got them.” He inspects his shoes closely for wear which is so weird. Jaxon is hardly the most pretentious guy I know. “They’re the same ones I got Caleb for his birthday. He seemed to like that we have the same shoes.”

  Grateful for the change in topic, I take quick advantage of distracting him from my faux relationship. “I didn’t realize it was his birthday. How’s he doing, anyway?”

  Satisfied his precious sneakers are fine and forgetting about Lauren just as I hoped he would, Jax begins walking next to me again, content to open up about the teenager he thought was his long-lost brother. Even though the genetic link isn’t there as originally suspected, Jaxon continues to have a relationship with the guy. “The usual. A little dorky. A little odd. Trying to find himself and maybe a girlfriend. Still on the hunt for his birth dad, but I doubt he’s ever going to find him at this point.”

  “Sucks. Did you ever tell your parents the DNA test didn’t match?”

  “I told my mom.” I raise my eyebrows. This is news to me. “At first, I wasn’t going to, but I figured it probably sucked to walk around thinking your late husband had a baby with someone else while you were married. I didn’t want her having to deal with that.”

  I nod because I’d probably do the same thing if it were my mom. “Was she glad to hear it?”

  “Indifferent mostly. I guess she let those issues go a long time ago. No idea if she told my dad. She probably did because I told her I’m still going to continue having a big brother relationship with Caleb, and I don’t want anyone to ever mention he isn’t actually a Bryant or there will be hell to pay.”

  My eyes widen. “No shit? You said that to your mama? Did she slap you silly?”

  He chuckles, knowing full well my own mother would have. In fact, she did the one time in high school I dropped an f-bomb in anger after missing a tackle that cost us a game. Turns out that loss wasn’t the worst thing to happen to me that day. The wrath of my mother was.

  “No. She actually agreed and said it was a no brainer. Then grumbled something about sounding like another Hart man she used to know. I don’t even want to know what that was about.”

  I bark a laugh. “I’m sure it has something to do with the great Jason Hart—the husband, father, and role model we all know and adore.”

  Jaxon rolls his eyes but he’s more amused than anything. His dad is a fantastic guy, if you take out the part about him driving Jaxon up the wall half the time, but that label has become a running joke between my best friend and me.

  “Now you know why I didn’t ask what she meant. But I do want to ask you a question.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Why’d you shove me when I said you wanted to bang Lauren?”

  Dammit. I was hoping we were beyond that conversation. “I didn’t.”

  He comes to a halt, which makes me stop and look at him. “What?”

  Squinting his eyes, h
e studies me for an uncomfortably long moment. It’s bordering on creepy.

  “Seriously, Jaxon. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’m trying to figure out why you’re lying to me about Lauren, and why your attitude regarding her has suddenly done a one-eighty. You’ve hated her for at least a year.”

  How the hell did this conversation suddenly come back to me? It was so much more tolerable when we were talking about Jaxon’s problems. Frustrated with his assessment and maybe with my own previous actions, I throw my arms out. “Why does everyone keep insisting I hate Lauren?”

  “Because you do.”

  “I do not. I never did.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  With a deep sigh, I shake my head. I wish I was disgusted by his assessment, but mostly, I’m upset that my actions are what led everyone to this conclusion. I’m especially upset it led Lauren to believe the same thing. It was never my intention for her to feel that way.

  As if I’m not experiencing enough guilt, Jaxon starts ticking off evidence on his fingers. “Ignoring her when she comes in a room…”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “… not going with us to her gymnastics meets on campus…”

  “I went to the last one.”

  “… shaking your head when she’s talking, and you don’t think anyone is looking at you…”

  “Whoa.” My hackles rise. “I do not do that.”

  “You do do it. You may not realize it, but we’ve all seen it more than once. Even Annika has mentioned it a couple of times. She knows Lauren pretty well and thinks it hurts Lauren’s feelings more than you realize.”

  I sigh in resignation. I’ve never been one to hide my feelings all that well, and if everyone in my social circle has noticed, it means I’ve been doing a shit job of controlling my expressions, too.

  “It’s not that I don’t like her. Lauren is just… energetic. And she never wears clothes.”

  Jaxon laughs. “She’s an athlete, dude. You rarely have a shirt on during practice either.”

  “It’s not just that, though.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I guess I just assumed her energy and the way she flaunts her body is because she’s flaky and a bit of a party girl.”

  “So, you just saw what was on the surface and didn’t bother to get to know her.”

  Guilt and shame punch me in the gut. As much as I want to deny it, he’s right and we both know it. I shake my head to clear my mind of the sudden influx of negative emotion. “I just try to stay away from those kinds of girls because I’ve got too much to lose if I get involved with the wrong one. I was trying to steer clear of her. But lately, I’ve just seen a different side to her. Like she has more depth than I thought.”

  “You mean, you finally pulled your head out of your ass and got to know who she really is, not just the shield she puts up.”

  I grimace. “Yeah, I figured out the other day that she has a lot of defense mechanisms.”

  “Good.” He claps me on the back again. “So how are you going to fix it now that you understand you’ve been a total douchebag and hurt her feelings?”

  “You mean being her fake boyfriend so those jackasses she trains with stay off her case isn’t enough?”

  “I admit, that’s pretty classy of you. But no. I’m thinking something more along the lines of an apology.”

  He’s right. I still don’t know much about Lauren, but I get the impression she hasn’t always had it easy. Not being close with her family, not having a big friend circle, making poor choices in dates… I can only imagine that my carelessness around her hasn’t helped her at all.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Pulling out my phone, I decide now is as good a time as any. Shooting off a quick text, I feel good about my plan, ready to get this all sorted out.

  “What are you doing?”

  Shoving my phone back in my pocket, I don’t answer him. This is between Lauren and me. Somehow, I don’t think she’d appreciate me drawing this kind of attention to her and her feelings.

  “Nothing. But I just realized I need to be somewhere. We need to book it.”

  I take off in a jog so I can hit the shower before I head to the women’s dorm, with Jaxon yelling behind me.

  “Oh, come on, man. We just got out of practice. No more exercise.”

  I turn so I’m running backward as I yell back at him. “I bet your doctor could tell you why a little jog makes you so tired.”

  He flips me the bird, which I expected and doesn’t offend me at all. If he wants to be an asshole and let this all play out, I can be an asshole and harass him about it. I’ve got three sisters. I practically have a degree in pestering.

  I don’t have time to worry about him anymore, though. I’ve got somewhere to be and a sudden urgency to get there. No time like the present to make things right with someone you’ve wronged.

  THIRTEEN

  Lauren

  Popping my earbuds in, I crank up the volume on my phone. Nothing like a little Aerosmith to get my blood pumping so I can wake up for some last-minute studying. It’s not late or anything, but some of the conditioning at practice wiped me out and I haven’t caught my second wind for the evening yet. I could easily take an overnight nap if I’m not careful.

  “What’s this?” I ask myself as I notice a missed text from Heath.

  Heath: We need to talk. I’m heading your way in twenty.

  That was fifteen minutes ago. Weird. I wonder what he wants to talk about. I can feel my anxiety kick up a notch, automatically assuming it’s something negative. Have we been outed? Is he done with this pretend relationship and wants to pretend break up? Did I say something that made him mad?

  Stop, Lauren! Relax. Deep breaths. He’s a guy, so he’s not going to be wordy on text. It’s probably nothing. No reason to worry yet. Just breathe… two… three… four…

  My spiked heart rate begins to slow, which is good and yet adrenaline would have given me that extra energy I need to stay awake.

  Yeah. We’re just going to have to stick with Steven Tyler for adrenaline. At least that way, my thoughts won’t spiral.

  Hitting play, the familiar opening notes to “Love in an Elevator” fill my head and my anxiety is quickly eased once again. Closing my eyes, I let the music flow and my body move with it. Before long, I’m fully engrossed in the words and lovin’ it up til I hit the floor. It grounds me and makes me feel strong. Empowered.

  Ironic considering the lyrics but come on. It’s Steven Tyler. 1980’s him can basically do no wrong.

  Swaying to the music, I raise my arms in the air and spin around, jumping back with fright when I catch a person in my room.

  “Ohmygod!” Hand clutched to my chest, I try to control my breathing. “What the fuck, Heath?”

  He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face, arms crossed as he leans against my closet. He mouths something that I don’t catch, electric guitar and bass still pounding through me.

  Pulling my earbuds out, I stop the music. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over my rock and roll idol.”

  “I said, are you having fun?”

  I toss my phone aside and plop down on my bed. “I was until you scared the shit out of me.”

  Heath grabs the desk chair and rolls it closer to me, straddling it backward when he sits. “What are you listening to that has you acting like a back-up dancer?”

  I throw my hands out and furrow my brow like the answer is obvious. “Aerosmith, of course.”

  “Oooh,” he says with a laugh. “Of course. I should’ve known you were a fan.”

  “They’re only the greatest band ever.”

  “They’re pretty good.”

  “Pretty good? That’s like saying Robert De Niro is a decent actor.”

  “My mistake,” he says with a laugh. It’s odd seeing him enjoy this conversation and my weird obsession. “Ever see them live?”

  “Of course! Twice. It’s r
idiculous how agile they still are. If I’m only half that active when I’m in my 70’s, I’ll be happy.”

  “What’s your favorite song?”

  I open my mouth to answer him, but I stumble over my words before saying anything. Partially because I’m not understanding his interest. With the exception of the other day when he was processing some family stuff, this may be the longest conversation we’ve ever had. And he’s the one who started it. Not to mention, it’s almost an impossible question to answer. There are so many fantastic songs to choose from.

  “That’s like asking me who my favorite niece or nephew is. Is my favorite something newer like ‘Living on the Edge’, which is arguably still pretty old, but not compared to ‘Dream On’ which released in the 70’s? I don’t know how to answer that. Wait!”

  He looks at me expectantly, which is new. Usually, by this point in one of my rants, he’s rolling his eyes and tuning me out, maybe leaving the room. Not this time. His eyes are locked on mine like he’s interested in what I have to say. More weirdness. I’m starting to wonder if he’s sick.

  “’Janie’s Got a Gun’.” I throw my head back and blow out a breath. “Man, that song hits me every single time. And did you know Steven Tyler founded two different Janie’s House locations to help abused women and teenagers because of that song?”

  His eyebrows raise in surprise. “I didn’t know that. That’s cool.”

  “I know, right?” Realizing I have a wide smile on my face, I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious. Sure, Aerosmith as a band is legendary, but my fangirling is a little over the top sometimes. I make a mental note not to mention the ratty concert tee I wear to bed most nights.

  Clearing my throat, I try to regain some of my confidence. “So anyway, what’s up?”

  Now it’s Heath’s turn to look a little self-conscious. This entire exchange has been confusing. It’s not our normal mode of operation, and it’s starting to freak me out a bit.

  Finally, he speaks. “I owe you an apology.”

  I blink rapidly, sure I’ve misheard him. “I… what?”

  His lips tilt up on the side like he’s fighting a smile at my confusion. “I’m sorry.”