Ugh, listen to my thoughts. I’m so over the top.
“But when it comes to the hard stuff, like admitting your feelings? Being real and vulnerable in front of each other? I don’t know how easy that is for you two,” she says.
We’ve done it before, specifically when he took me to Pismo. We were on such a high after that trip, it felt like it could never end.
Real life sucks.
“You need to tell him,” Hayden stresses. “Admit to him how you feel. Let him know that you didn’t mean what you said when you were talking to us the other night. I’m guessing he’s hurting right now, but he doesn’t know how to express himself. Take that man out of his misery and tell him how much you love him.”
“But…” I swallow hard, my throat raspy. “What if he doesn’t love me?”
“Oh please.” She actually laughs, which makes me glare at her. “He’s totally in love with you. Can’t you see it? And how he’s acting right now? All hurt and distant, yet still unable to keep his hands off of you? The boy is completely enamored of you. He doesn’t talk about other women, you know. Not anymore. Tony says he doesn’t even look at them. After games, there are all sorts of girls hanging around, eager to flirt and see what they can get. Or more like who they can get, yet none of them interest him.”
I’m quiet, thinking of how he acts now versus how he used to be. Horn dog Caleb. Chasing after every girl Caleb. King of the players Caleb.
It’s true. She’s right.
Oh God.
Maybe he does love me.
“Okay!” Ellie reenters the room, grinning. “I’ve put something together, and you two are going to love it.”
“What did you do?” I ask warily.
Ellie settles into her chair and takes a sip of her melted margarita. “Start packing—I arranged for us an all-expenses paid trip to Las Vegas! The plane leaves tomorrow at five. I found rooms for us at the Bellagio, and I also got us box seats at the game.”
My mouth falls open. “Um, how in the world did she do that in such a short amount of time?”
“What the hell, Ellie? How cool is this!” Hayden starts shimmying in her chair. “Oh my God, we get to party in Vegas!”
“Well, you guys can party. I’m still underage,” she reminds us.
Hayden stops her seat dancing. “What are you going to do then? We can’t party without you.”
“I’ll be with Jackson. That’s how I managed all this.” Her smile is back, bigger than ever. “The record label has a plane they use for artists. Jackson was able to get it for us. And the hotel has been dying to comp me some rooms as long as I post some photos and videos while I’m there on my social media.”
Holy wow. “Did you really just do all of that for me?” I ask, my voice squeaking.
“Yes,” Ellie says with a firm nod. “For you. You were always so good to me when I was having my problems with Jackson. You listened to me whine and cry, and you gave me good advice. Both of you did. You completely empowered me and reinforced my self-worth. It’s the least I can do for you.”
It’s like the faucet turns on after that. We’re all crying and laughing at the same time, overwhelmed with emotion. I have the best friends in the world.
The absolute best.
Twenty-Nine
Gracie
We’re flying to Las Vegas in a private jet.
A private. Jet.
Talk about extravagant…
Hayden and I met up after work with our overnight bags already packed and headed to the airport in her car. Ellie met us at the private hangar and we boarded the plane feeling like superstars to find Jackson already inside with a full spread of fruit and crackers and cheese and a variety of meats spread on a table before him. A bottle of champagne on ice waits for us too, along with four long-stemmed glasses.
The moment he spots us, he comes forward with his arms spread wide in greeting. “Ladies. Welcome to my lair.”
“Oh my God, stop it,” Ellie tells him with a grin, going straight to him. He wraps her up in his arms and lifts her off her feet, kissing her soundly. “Don’t be such a show-off.”
“We’re all friends here. They won’t judge me, right?” He releases his hold on Ellie and turns to Hayden and me, rubbing his hands together. “This ought to be a fun weekend. Have you told the guys you’re coming?”
I furiously shake my head. “I don’t want Caleb to know.”
“I didn’t say a word to Tony either,” Hayden confirms.
“Perfect. It’ll be a great surprise.” Jackson glances over at me. “I hear you and Caleb are the real deal.”
I nod, owning it. “We are.”
At least, I hope so.
He smiles. “You two make a good couple. I’ve been predicting this for years.”
“You all have,” I say, rolling my eyes.
“It was all the arguing. You two seemed to get off on it,” he teases.
I’m not going to protest, because I’m pretty sure Jackson is right. They all are.
The flight to Las Vegas from Fresno takes just about an hour. We spend that hour talking and laughing, listening to Jackson chatter away, telling funny stories about their high school rivalry and what Eli used to do to work our boys into a frenzy. Everyone snacks and drinks plenty of champagne, with the exception of me.
I’m too nervous to eat—or drink. Worried over Caleb’s reaction at seeing me at his game. What if my being there makes him angry?
And will he even see me? UNLV’s home stadium is the same one that the Raiders use—meaning it’s huge. Massive. There will be so many people there tomorrow. The Bulldog fans love to travel for games, and Vegas is an easy flight over from Fresno, or a longer drive that many of them willingly make. I don’t want to meet up with him tonight either. I’m not ready for that conversation yet. Plus, I don’t want to get into his head the night before a game. He needs to stay focused.
Centered.
By the time we’re dropping our bags off in our rooms, I’m exhausted. But Jackson is having none of it. He whisks us off to a very expensive restaurant that’s in the hotel, where he proceeds to order practically every appetizer on the menu. He’s having the time of his life, surrounded by three women while wining and dining us. I can only laugh, swept up by his easy, charming attitude, my heart expanding every time I watch him and Ellie interact.
He is so in love with her. You can see it in his eyes, in his body language. He leans into her, always smiling, his blue eyes trained on her. He can’t keep his hands off of her either, and he presses his lips to her forehead. Her temple. Her cheek. Her lips.
He can’t stop kissing her. It’s as if he wants to consume her. But not in a bad, stalkerish way either. His gestures are sweet. Tender.
I think of Caleb. How sweet he’d been with me recently. Like a little boy looking to always please me. I loved that. It made me want to please him in return. Though he didn’t act like a little boy behind closed doors. He was all man. Commanding and forceful and precise.
So precise.
As in, the man knows just what to do to make me come.
We’re waiting for dessert—really, it’s only Jackson waiting for dessert, the rest of us are absolutely stuffed—when my phone buzzes with a text notification.
From Caleb.
Caleb: Hey.
I stare at that one word, my heart in my throat. What does he want? Is it bad? Or is this a casual reach out, like no big deal?
I’m probably making something out of nothing.
Me: Hey.
The little gray dotted bubble pops up, indicating he’s typing, and I wait in breathless anticipation for his reply. He takes forever, which makes my heart thump harder, scared over his response.
Caleb: I miss you.
Oh. My chest expands, and it feels as if a million butterflies were just released, spreading their colorful wings in the air. I breathe easier, and fighting a smile, I tap at the screen.
Me: I miss you too.
His response is
immediate.
Caleb: But I’m mad at you.
My heart drops again and I blink back the sudden tears. Ugh, the crying really needs to stop. It’s so annoying when I have to focus.
Focus on saving my relationship.
Me: Why?
Caleb: What I heard you say to your friends. You have zero faith in me.
Me: More like I have zero faith in myself.
He takes a while to respond to that, which leaves me anxious. The server has brought over the dessert—some chocolate cake, vanilla ice cream monstrosity that made Jackson burst out laughing when he saw it. He’s currently spoon-feeding Ellie tiny bites and Hayden is working a spoon into the ice cream as well, doing a double take when she glances over at me.
“You okay?” she asks softly.
“Texting with Caleb,” I admit.
“Did you tell him where you’re at?”
I slowly shake my head. She smiles slyly.
“He’s going to flip.”
Yeah. And it might not be with happiness either. He might be angry that I showed up when he’s ready to tell me to get lost because I shit all over him and our relationship. I can’t blame him either. I didn’t handle this right.
But how was I supposed to know how to handle it in the first place? I have no experience with a real relationship, with a man I love.
The words ring in my head. I love.
I love him.
I love Caleb.
A tiny smile plays upon my lips. At least the knowledge of my love for him doesn’t send me running away screaming.
That’s reassuring.
My phone buzzes and I check the new text from Caleb.
Caleb: Do you have zero faith in us?
I don’t even pause in my response.
Me: I’m sorry that I hurt you.
Caleb: You didn’t answer my question.
I ponder it for a moment, scared to reveal the truth.
Me: I want to.
Caleb: That’s not good enough.
Oh God. If he breaks up with me right now, while I’m sitting in the middle of a busy restaurant in Las Vegas and about to make a grand gesture tomorrow…
I’ll crawl back into my hotel room, shrivel up and die.
Me: I have faith in you.
The waiting is a killer. It’s as if he’s doing it on purpose, and maybe he is. I don’t know. He’s not one to play games. Caleb is one of the most straightforward people I know.
It’s one of my favorite things about him.
That and his smile. The way he takes care of me. How loyal he is to his friends. How loyal he’s become to me. How he may act like a dog with females, but he’s always been respectful to his friends’ girlfriends. He’s a nice guy. He’s a fun guy.
People don’t give him enough credit. I used to not give him enough credit either, but that’s all changed now.
Caleb: And I have faith in you. Isn’t that enough to say we have faith in US?
I decide to be completely truthful.
Me: I wish I could see you right now.
Caleb: Me too. I wish you were in my bed.
My heart soars at seeing his words.
Me: Lonely?
Caleb: Always when you’re not around.
“Are we almost ready to go?” Ellie calls, catching my attention. I glance up from my phone to find everyone at the table focused on me.
I put my phone back into my bag, smiling. “I’m ready.”
“You didn’t eat any dessert,” Jackson chastises.
I shrug. “Not hungry. Still full from dinner.”
Didn’t eat much of that either, but no one calls me out on it.
“Who were you texting?” Ellie asks, getting right to the point.
“Caleb,” I admit.
Ellie frowns. “Everything okay between you two?”
I slowly nod. “Actually, yes. He seems…content.”
She smiles and claps. “Yay!”
We take a private car back to the hotel and by the time I’m walking into my room, my phone starts buzzing with a FaceTime call.
From Caleb.
Shit.
I turn off all the lights and throw myself on the bed, grateful I shut the curtains on the windows before I left for dinner. The room is shrouded in darkness so he can’t see anything and by the time I answer the call, I’ve arranged myself on the bed so he can’t tell where I’m at.
Hopefully.
“Hi,” I say when I see his pretty face filling my screen.
“Hi.” He yawns, immediately covering his mouth, and I can tell he’s in bed. In some random hotel room in this very same city, which is frustrating. We’re so close, yet so far apart still. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, nothing much,” I say, lying through my teeth, which makes me feel guilty.
“About to go to bed?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I admit, my voice soft. He’s bare chested and I drink him in with my greedy gaze, wishing I was with him. Touching him. “I’m tired.”
“Me too. We practiced hard today. I think they’re worried we’re going to lose.”
“Who’s worried?” I ask.
“Our coaches.” He scratches at his chest, his lips curled into a lazy smile. “You look pretty.”
My heart warms. “Caleb, do you hate me?”
He chuckles. “I could never hate you, G. My dick wants you too damn much all the time to ever hate you.”
I laugh too, though his words hurt a little. But I know what he’s doing. He’s cracking a joke and making it about sex between us. Too afraid to admit his real feelings, I guess.
I’m the one who’s going to have to go out on a limb and admit everything first.
Which is fine. I can totally do it.
Maybe?
Ugh, uncertainty is real and it is currently swamping me.
I decide to change the subject.
“Are you worried about the game tomorrow?”
“Nah, I feel really good about it, actually,” he answers.
“Really? That’s great.” Sometimes he can get worked up. Same with Eli. All that pissed-off testosterone in our little apartment can be a bit overwhelming at times, but I’m getting used to it.
“Yeah.” His voice softens, as does his expression. “I wish you were here.”
Oh, if he only knew. “I wish I was too.”
“When I get home Sunday, we need to talk.” He hesitates for only a moment. “About us.”
“I totally agree,” I say.
We just stare at each other on our phones, giddiness rising inside of me, telling me it’s all going to be okay. I’ve got this.
I’ve got him.
Thirty
Caleb
The roar of the crowd is fucking unbelievable in this stadium. The first time we played UNLV, it was just after Allegiant Stadium opened, and I was just a freshman. I spent the entirety of that game on the bench, in awe of the giant crowd screaming for the Rebels—and for us.
Last year we played them on our home turf—and we barely kicked their asses.
Now, here we are back in their stadium, and I swear to God, the crowd is bigger. Louder. The space is buzzing with barely restrained anticipation, making me feel jumpy. Anxious.
“You can’t stop moving,” Tony chastises at one point, when I’m hopping up and down in one spot as we wait to run out onto the field.
“I can’t help it,” I complain. “Something about this game is making me antsy.” I jump up and down in place for emphasis, like I really can’t stop moving. Which is sort of the truth.
“Bro, you’re being ridiculous.” Diego shoves his way toward us, a scowl on his face. “Get serious. We’re about to play the game of our lives.”
“Isn’t that a bit much?” Tony asks, sounding amused.
“This game is pivotal for the season and you can’t deny it,” Diego points out.
“Oh yeah.” Tony instantly sobers up. “You’re right.”
We’ve been inconsistent this seas
on. We show moments of glory, only to fall completely apart. The defensive line is getting stronger, and the offensive line does a solid job of protecting our quarterback.
But our quarterback is also a little inconsistent. His emotions grab hold of him and send him into a downward spiral. He’s contributed to a few losses, thanks to throwing too many interceptions, and those were games we should’ve won. Which means we must win this one in order to remain in the playoffs.
We have to.
And those fucking Rebels? Their team this season? They’re good.
I’d even go so far as to say they’re fucking excellent.
The assholes.
They’re not really assholes, that’s just my jealous streak talking. I want to go out with a bang. I want our team to be on top this season, and even fucking better next year. Our senior year. I want to be the best.
I know my friends feel the same way.
As we run onto the field, I take in the crowd. Thousands upon thousands of people are here, and not just hometown fans either. I see plenty of Bulldogs gear and the cheers for us are pretty damn loud.
My stomach cramps and I try to force the feeling away. For some reason I’ve got a raging case of nerves, and I don’t get it. What’s so different about this game versus any other I’ve played for the last twelve years of my life? Okay yeah, the youth football league is not nearly as stressful but still. I’ve done this a long ass time.
I need to chill and get myself together.
Once we’re on the sidelines, my mind fills with images of Gracie. She instills calm in me, though the last few days I’ve been stressed the fuck out over our relationship. Talking to her last night helped. I got my feelings out—somewhat. And she was receptive. Seeing her face helped too.
I miss her. A lot. I wish she could’ve come to this game. It would feel good, knowing she was sitting up there, watching me. Sending out all of those positive vibes just for me to catch and absorb. Sounds like a bunch of nonsense, but it’s true. Knowing someone has faith in you makes you feel like you can conquer anything.
I try to channel that. Faith in myself. I focus on what our coaches are telling us. I watch Eli, who’s grim, determined expression tells me his head is in the game. He’s not acting stressed out or yelling at everyone, which is a positive sign.
The Junior (College Years Book 3) Page 26