Meant for More

by Liza James

  My cheeks are on fire and I can't help the breath I quickly suck in at his words, at his touch, at the way I'm suddenly achy in places even lower than my stomach. I force a deep breath in, but when I do, my chest brushes against his and my nipples pull tightly under the thin fabric of my crop top. I drop my eyes down and try to crush the tiniest whimper in my throat before it escapes.

  He leans back and I can tell—I can feel—his eyes are on me. But God, I can't fucking look because I know he already sees how red my skin is.

  He laughs again, this time a little louder, clearly satisfied with how he's melted me entirely. I finally look up as he slides his hands casually into the pockets of his dark wash jeans. "Go to bed, Bloom. I'll text you tomorrow."

  I nod, opening my mouth to say 'okay' when nothing actually comes out. So, I close my lips and turn away, immediately hurrying off and up the stairs when I hear Liv rush up behind me.

  "Baby Bloom!" she shouts, and her hands wrap through the back straps of my overalls as she pulls herself up behind me. I lean back, being thrown off balance when she quickly pushes me back upright and holds on over my shoulder. "You are quite the popular girl tonight, aren't you?"

  I narrow my eyes at her as we walk toward my room. Weaving my fingers through hers at my shoulder. "I literally do not know what you're talking about." I hope she isn't referring to Carter. But I have to admit things felt...off tonight with us.

  She turns her head away from me, a smile still pulling on her features but tainted with something a little sadder than she usually wears.

  We walk into my room and I immediately fall on my bed, rolling over to my back and propping myself up on my elbows. Liv stands in the doorway, her head tilting to one side while she watches me silently.

  "What? What are you thinking?" I ask, my voice pitching up a bit anxiously. Tonight has been weird for countless reasons, and the last thing I want is my best friend being upset with me on top of it all.

  "I feel like I'm seeing you for the first time tonight." She strangely mimics Carter's sentiment from earlier, and a wave of irritation works through me at both of them.

  "Why? Because someone's actually interested in me rather than you?" I ask, releasing the anger in a stabbing comment toward Liv. I shouldn't be acting this way, I know. But I'm not great at handling all of the emotions of everyone else around me.

  She rears back, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise and her gaze instantly widening at my remark. "Take a step back, Baby Bloom. No need to bitch at the drunk girl for absolutely no reason." She stalks forward and leans over me on the bed, slamming her hands down on either side of my hips so we're looking right at each other.

  Her gaze is a bit lazy, her words slurring just slightly especially now that she's worked up. She tilts forward unknowingly for a moment, but sways back in the next instant. "Not because someone is into you. I'm not surprised by that in the slightest. Everyone's into you, you just don't fucking see it." She pauses while the words work through me and I can't help but feel confused at what she's saying.

  No one is into me. Everyone's into Liv. That's how this has always worked.

  She laughs and looks down, closing her eyes briefly before looking up again. "You don't even see it, do you?" Her voice is quiet and I can't help but feel like she's processing something else entirely in her own head. "I feel like I'm seeing you because this is the first time I've ever seen you interested in someone. Genuinely."

  Everything settles in my chest. She isn't mad at me, and thankfully she didn't feel whatever was off with Carter and I as well. I lean up and hold both sides of her face in my hands, pressing my forehead against hers when she finally falls forward and on top of me.

  We both laugh, and I wrap arms around her while we roll to the side. She sits up on her forearms and watches me while I tuck my hands underneath my cheek and against the comforter of my bed.

  "I love you," I say, sinking into the relief flooding the space between us.

  She rolls her eyes, and tilts her head back and forth. For a second, I hope she doesn't make herself sick. "I know, you're obsessed with me."

  I shove her, and before I realize it, she's falling off the bed and crashing to the floor. She gasps as her ass hits the ground and I launch up, laughing uncontrollably while trying to force an apology from my throat.

  "Go to bed, loser. I'm going to head back downstairs to party for a while longer. Find me in the morning, yeah?" She stands, smiling and wiping her hands down her legs before turning toward the door. She waves a quick goodbye and steps out of my room, shutting the door behind her and leaving me in the confines of my own personal space.

  Finally.

  Oh god, what is that noise?

  There's a pounding, somewhere far away...but it's getting louder and louder and louder.

  "Wake the hell up, sunshine!" Vague words, hardly audible. But the pounding, goddamn its incessant.

  I launch up out of bed and throw my hands over my ears, my eyes flying open as the sound suddenly blasts through my room. When I can actually process what I'm seeing, I realize Benj and Lucas have issued me an incredibly warm wake up call.

  "You guys have got to be fucking kidding me," I mutter, finally dropping my hands and staring them both in their cheery ass faces. They're standing in my doorway, old metal pots in both of their grips being smashed together in wild succession.

  "Oh, the only jokester here is you, my friend." Benj walks forward and crouches at the end of my bed, meeting my hard gaze straightforward with the blazing intensity of his own. "Because what you pulled last night? That was fucking ridiculous."

  Immediately, I start spiraling through my memories of the last twelve hours. We were at Theta Si, Bloom and Liv were there.

  Overalls. Tequila? Fuck, history kid. Something happened with the history kid.

  I look down at my clothes and realize I never changed last night after the party. I'm still wearing the same dark wash jeans and baseball tee. And shit, we have practice soon. How the hell am I going to make it through when I feel like shit?

  Glancing back up to an eagerly awaiting Benj, I lift my hands in surrender and fall back against my pillow. "Fill me in, I can't remember the details." Shit, I'm sure they aren't great and I'm not thrilled to relive whatever it was with the guys.

  I'll never live this down.

  "You're kidding me, you don't remember?" Lucas this time, and he steps forward until he's standing beside my bed. He leans over me and I close my eyes to avoid his pointed glare. But he smashes the pans right above my fucking head and it takes everything in me not to beat his ass for it.

  "Don't even get angry. You can't. You deserve every single thing we're doing to you today." He replies and Benj immediately huffs in agreement.

  "Then get it over with and tell me what the hell I did to deserve all this shit." I drape my arm over my eyes, attempting to block out any light I possibly can. My head throbs, and my stomach twists with nausea as I continue trying to piece together what happened.

  "Well for starters, you treated Bloom like shit." Benj's voice drops into something angrier. It's the sound of his tone, the seriousness of it that forces me to peek out from under my arm in complete surprise.

  "No way. I wouldn't have hurt her," I say, immediately going on the defense in this. I would never hurt Bloom or Liv. They've been there for me since we were kids.

  "Yes way. You did dude. You were rude as hell when she was talking to Benj and seeming even remotely interested in him," Lucas explains, crouching down next to my head and shoving my hand off my face. "Total cock block. And that's against Cardinal Code let alone fuckin' bro code."

  I can't help it, I dart forward and smack Lucas in the face, knocking him back on his ass when I remind him that Bloom and Liv don't apply. "Not with those two."

  "Carter, you're basically a helicopter best friend. Seriously, let Bloom breathe and figure out her own shit." Benj stands and passes one pan to the opposite hand, clutching them both together while he runs his fingers thro
ugh his long hair. "You almost beat some kid’s ass. Which would have gotten you kicked off the team and out for the draft. So, don't let it happen again, Captain."

  Ah fuck. I vaguely remember that. It's all coming in chunky pieces without any details. I know Bloom drove me home, but I can't even remember getting to the Jeep or out of it when she dropped me off. I hope she isn't pissed, I'll have to talk to her today after her class.

  Shit, does she have my Jeep?

  "I'll talk to her and nail down the details. I didn't mean to discourage her from you, sorry man. I don't know what happened to me last night." I run my palms over my eyes and down my face, trying to shake myself together this morning and ready for practice. "She has the Jeep?"

  "Yeah, and it doesn't look like she'll be back in time for you to take it to practice." Lucas adds, walking toward the doorway while Benj follows suit.

  "Looks like you're riding with me, pretty boy." Benj says, clicking his tongue in his mouth arrogantly. He stretches a bitter and egotistical smile across his face, dropping his hands to the door knob and looking back over his shoulder. "I'm going to make you pay today on the field."

  He shuts the door behind him and I quickly grab my phone and text Bloom about my vehicle. If I can get back, then I can ride to practice alone. I need to clear my head and figure out exactly what I said to her last night. I'm genuinely surprised at the fact I was such an asshole to her and I know I'll need to apologize today.

  I finally climb out of bed and begin gathering my things for practice. I throw on a pair of Under Armor tights and layer my gym shorts over top. Reaching for my Burnhardt Uni sweater, I pull it over my head and check my phone for a response from Bloom.

  Nothing.

  Fuck. I send her another text, hoping she'll wake up and I can quickly race over to her. But it's already five-thirty and Coach wants us at the field and ready by five-forty-five.

  "Get your ass down here, Captain!" Benj shouts from the lower level of the house and I can still hear him loud and clear—even through my closed door.

  He calls me Captain like this when he's trying to remind me of my place, my responsibility. I'm grateful for the reminder, honestly. Because I clearly let shit get away from me last night.

  Confusion and curiosity war in my mind though, because I can't imagine being so angry over Benj and Bloom. Sure, I don't love the idea of them together. Yeah, I think Benj is a player and I hate putting her in his hands, expecting him to take care of her.

  Especially because she's never been with anyone else.

  I'm only trying to protect her. She's like a little sister to me, and I know she actually deserves the best. Benj isn't it, that's all. He's a great friend and tight end and I trust him more than anyone on the field. With Bloom though, I don't know how he'd handle her.

  But he's right, and I need to let Bloom figure it out for herself.

  Benj slams his fist against the wall below my room, reminding me again it's time to head to practice. I still feel sick, I'm still confused, my head is still pounding.

  I'm the Captain though, and I'm going to show my team what it looks like to work your ass off after playing hard.

  Shuffle drills. Running routes. Conditioning.

  Five-step drop. Out of the pocket. Create the power, energy. Throw.

  Again.

  Benj has been running this drill with me hundreds of times today. One direction, then the next. A new route, a new receiver. Testing and stretching my skills in not only my own footwork and throws, but in the ways I know each player on our team.

  The teamwork. That's what he's reminding me of. At the end of everything, we are a unit.

  "Tired yet?" Lucas yells from across the field as he's running backwards and to the left, gauging my own movement and distance when I pass the ball to him.

  Catch.

  "I'm dead. The literal walking dead, actually." I feel like I'm being clever, but the zombie reference is wasted on him. He quit watching the show after they killed off—

  "Ha ha ha." Benj mocks, and the three of us slow down while circling up together. "I see what you did there."

  "Thank fuck, someone got it." I crouch down, resting my hand on the turf while I try to catch my breath. I've puked today. Twice. But I've kept pushing and I try to remind myself that's what is important. Showing the team I'm never asking them to give work I'm unwilling to.

  "Let's head in!" Coach yells from the sidelines and blows the whistle to catch the teams attention. I stand and we head back toward the locker room, gathering our shit off the sidelines as we pass.

  Hurrying into the large open space, scattered with various lockers and showers. The entire room is decorated in our team colors and it's a good reminder of what we're building here. I needed this, after everything from last night. I needed to be grounded in what I love doing and am passionate about.

  The air conditioning hits my skin in necessary waves of relief. It feels fucking good, and I step forward until I reach my locker and begin getting my things out for a quick shower. Coach stands at the front of the room, reiterating the plays we went over today and what needs to change about them. He's a hard ass, and a lot of us butt heads with him. But we also know he'll prepare us for the draft and help us become the best players when we step out onto the field.

  We need a solid kick in the ass most days.

  "Captain. Office. Now." He turns around without another word and walks away, leaving me in the midst of the team while I try to force a steady gaze.

  "Well shit," I mutter under my breath so only Benj and Lucas can hear. I've had a few issues this year with my grades and my attitude on the field. I tend to run the team for flags, but I do my best to make up for it in other ways.

  "Don't be a dick in there," Lucas admonishes, slapping his hand on my back and squeezing my shoulder in support.

  I drop my things and turn toward his office. His door is already ajar, so I rap my knuckles against it quickly and step inside. He doesn't even look up, but he waves his hand for me to shut the door.

  "Need something, Coach?" I ask while taking a seat in the office chair opposite his desk.

  "Yeah." He says as he shuffles through some papers on his desk and then turns one my way.

  Shit. It's my grades.

  "I need you to get your grades together so you can enter the draft at the end of this year." He finally looks up and meets my gaze. He clasps his hands together in front of him, watching me expectantly when I look down to evaluate what's in front of me.

  Everything is low. Lower than I thought. I knew I was riding the line but I thought I was at least making it by a slim margin. It looks like a couple of my classes have fallen below that.

  I brush my hand through my hair and lean back on the legs of the chair, blowing out a breath when I finally look at him again. "I thought I was doing better than this."

  "Clearly." He says flatly, his tone laced with a finality that sets my nerves on edge. "I'm not willing to let you go down like this." He stabs his finger into the center my grade report, "This? Is fixable. But you have to put in the goddamn work, Carter. I've had this discussion with you far too many times already."

  "I get it, I do. I need to pull my grades up. It's just—" I start, unable to explain the reasoning behind this. How do I say I simply don't care? My eyes are on football and my career with the NFL. These unnecessary classes are the least of my worries. "Hard for me when my head is in the draft."

  "I know where you want to go, son. I also know you can get there, if you get a couple of things under control in other areas of your life. You handle the media exceptionally well, you get along with your team and you keep them on task when they're slipping in different areas." He leans to the side and pulls another sheet of paper, sliding it across the desk toward me. "But you have to do the same for yourself, otherwise your entire team will achieve their dreams while you sit on the sidelines and watch."

  Ouch. That fucking stings.

  I lean forward and rest my elbows on the edge of his
desk, glancing down at the list laid before me. I narrow my eyes and look up to him in confusion. It's a short list of various classes, each of them wildly different than my degree in Business Development.

  "You need to take another class. Something you know you'll pass and will help pull up your GPA. These are all Saturday classes, all of them start between nine a.m. and ten a.m. You choose, but you will take one, and you will pass it."

  "I can hardly handle the load I have right now, Coach. How the hell am I going to take on another class?" I lean back and let my hands fall to my thighs, frustration lingers in my blood. I know this could help, but there has to be another way aside from loading my schedule with another class.

  "You'll do it because it'll get you to the fuckin' draft. You'll do it because you're the team captain and you're about to be an integral player in the future of the NFL. Do you understand me?" He presses his hands flat against the desk and leans forward, the anger and determination evident on his strained features. A vein throbs on the edge of his neck and I can visibly see the ticking in his jaw as he awaits my response.

  Dammit. I know he's right.

  I look down at the list again, a series of classes I know nothing of. Nothing that sparks immediate interest or anything seeming easy, per se. Public Speaking. English Comp. Art History. Marketing.

  Except one.

  Oh, hell yes. I point to the title and look up at him, relief rolling through my limbs as I realize this might all work out for the best.

  "Color Theory. I'll take that one."

  Beep. Beep. Beep.

  I roll over with a groan, crashing my hand against my phone while I try to silence my alarm. I don't want to open my eyes yet, it's far too early to join the rest of society on campus.

  Just a little while longer. Fifteen minutes.

  "Get the fuck up, Bloom!" Liv's voice booms through my door while her fists quickly slam against the door three times.

  What the hell.

  "Fifteen fucking minutes!" I scream, my chest tense while I yell and then relaxing into the pillowy softness of my bed.