I took a deep breath and shoved my hands in the pockets of my black sweatpants, looking her five foot two frame over from head to toe. She was dressed in these raggedy old jeans and a plain purple top, but she couldn't have looked anymore beautiful. Her body was curved in all the right places, generously full in the chest, ripe in the hips.
“What are you doing here?” I asked back, trying to keep my voice cool, calm. It wasn't working. My body was riled up from my workout, from the frustration that'd been brewing for far too long. And Teagan was so goddamn hot. I could feel my cock responding to her, giving me this ache that just begged me to fill her up, take her hot and heavy right now.
“Um, I live here?” she asked, taking a step back from me, like she could sense the turmoil twisting up my insides. I looked away from her, surveying the sterile white couches, the glass and metal side tables, the modern art hung sparsely across the gray walls. It was so not Teagan. Teagan painted murals on her walls and sang southern gospel songs she didn't believe in. “What do you want, Tyce?”
I turned back to look at her, my eyes drawn. I couldn't stay away if I tried. I took another step towards her.
“You remember your name yet?” I asked, as I reached up and let my fingers brush some of that red hair from her face. The rose on my hand was inked in the same color, a little nod, a memory of Teagan Fletcher that I thought I might need. Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever see her again.
“I think you should go,” Teagan said, trying to move around me towards the front door. I stepped back and put my shoulder against it, looking her straight in the face, trying to find the right words to say what needed to be said. Nothing rational would come to me. I ran my tongue over my lower lip and watched her follow the movement. “Seriously, Tyce. Please, go, before my roommate gets back. She isn't exactly a football fan.”
“Why did you come here?” I asked again, watching as those eyes of hers, like two sideways teardrops, pulled away from me and focused purposefully on a blank spot on the wall. She still had that faint scar on her forehead from that time she fell on the playground. I remembered leaning forward and kissing the blood away, not knowing or caring at age ten that I shouldn't be doing something like that.
I slid a hand over my face, tasting the metallic tang of blood on my lips. But it wasn't just a memory of Teagan's, it was mine. I was biting my lip—hard.
“You really need to go,” Teagan said again, leaning forward and wrapping her hand around mine, which was locked tight around the nickel finish of the doorknob. “Tyce,” she said again as I grabbed her wrist with my other hand, pushing her back into the wall. I let go of the handle and reached up, curling my fingers under her chin and tilting her face to mine.
My mouth closed the gap between us as I bent and pressed my mouth hard against hers, tasted her with my tongue and felt the sudden collapse of her body. With my left hand, I held Teagan up around the waist, pulling her tight against me.
Kissing her was like fucking fire.
I felt an adrenaline rush like nothing else, a sense of mental and physical obliteration that had me fumbling at the button on Teagan's jeans, pressing myself tight against the hot heat of her body like I had nowhere else to go.
“Tyce,” she moaned, breaking the kiss, putting her hands on either side of my face. She caught my gaze and held it tight, making me look at her. “Tyce, it's me,” Teagan whispered, her voice hoarse and broken, like this moment was sheer hell.
“I know,” I said, still holding her, my body still aching, my cock hard and insistent, straining against the confines of my sweatpants. “Do you think I wouldn't recognize you, Teagan Fletcher? I might be an asshole, but I'm not stupid.”
There was a second there where things looked like they might be okay, like we could do this, figure this weirdness out. My thoughts would calm, my sudden obsession would retreat, and I could pound the Washington Huskies into the ground on Saturday.
“Wait … what?” Teagan asked, putting her palms on my chest, making space between us. Her small mouth rounded in shock, and she shoved with all of her might, forcing me to take a step back. “What did you just say?”
I kept my grip on her waist, holding her at arm's length as we stared at each other and I narrowed my eyes. I could feel sweat dripping down my spine, the warmth and heat of the moment this strange mixture between lust and want and anger and rage.
“Why are you here, Teagan? Did you come here for me?” I asked, searching her face for the truth. Inside, I waged a war against my own hopes and desires. Half of me wanted it to be true, to know that she'd come all this way for me. The other half wished she'd never shown up, that she'd faded away into a distant memory.
“You …” she sputtered for a moment, twisting out of my arms and pacing a quick circle into the boring beige carpet. Thin fingers raked through that red hair of hers as she whipped around to face me, pale cheeks coloring underneath a thin sprinkling of freckles. “You knew it was me all along?” she said slowly, moss green eyes narrowing.
I didn't say anything, letting my mouth thin into a narrow line.
“I was surprised,” I said, which was a stupid fucking excuse.
“You knew it was me, and you … asked me to sleep with you?” Teagan continued, the pitch of her voice rising with each syllable. With the sunlight streaming through the blinds and hitting her hair, she looked like she was on fire. “Why … why would you do something like that?”
“What was I supposed to do? You show up here out of the blue and then just 'bump' into me in the park? You caught me off guard, okay? What was I supposed to do? Start off down memory fucking lane?”
Teagan's mouth dropped open and she took a quick step back, her face flaming with color, whether from anger or embarrassment or both I wasn't sure. Her right hand fisted in her purple top, the bright orange color of her nails digging into the fabric with a trembling rage.
“Are you kidding me? Follow you? Why would I ever want to follow you, Tyce? You disappeared and left me all alone with nothing!” Teagan's voice raised up another notch, the righteous indignation in her words putting me on the defensive. I almost felt vulnerable there for a second, shirtless and sweaty and stupid in her living room. “All we had was each other, Tyce! You used to tell me that all the time.”
“You had your mom, didn't you?” I snapped back, my heart slamming violently into my ribcage. I wouldn't have been surprised if it'd broken out and splattered the room with blood. I almost wanted it to. I needed to get the hell out of there.
I expected Teagan's temper to flare up. Hell, I wanted it to. I wanted to keep fighting, and then I wanted to throw her down on the couch and tear her clothes off. My words though, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes filled with tears, two silver drops sliding down those rosy cheeks.
“My mother is dead,” Teagan growled out, moving a step forward, focusing a shaking finger on my chest. “And she died asking after you, Tyce Winship.” I felt my face fall, come tumbling down my head to crash into the floor. Faceless. I was a faceless, stupid fuck in that moment. “She thought you were dead, you know that? Because she never believed you'd leave us like that. After everything we went through for you, because of you. Together. We were always together until we weren't.”
Teagan took a few, slow steps forward.
“And then I see you in the park and you … hit on me, make me feel like one of your tramps?”
“I had no idea about Venus,” I said, my voice dropping as I remembered the only woman on this earth besides my own that I'd even dare to liken to a mother.
“Of course you didn't,” Teagan said, her tears slipping across her lower lip and clinging there like icicles. “And for what? Football? Is that it? You had to get out of that shit hole to start your career? I get it, Tyce. I didn't at first, but after a while I understood. There was nothing there for us in that town.” Teagan swiped her arm across her face. “But you didn't have to leave the way you did. And you didn't have to stay away.”
“What
do you want me to say?” I asked, getting pissed again, moving towards her. Both of Teagan's hands came up and shoved me back violently. Lightning struck that face, burned a line of hatred across her features like a bolt.
“GET OUT!” she screamed at me, coming forward, hitting me again. Her fists smashed into my chest over and over and over. When I reached out and took hold of her wrists, she wrenched them free, sliding them from my sweaty grip and stumbling back. Her roommate chose that exact moment to show up, opening the door with a bag of groceries in one hand. The first thing she saw was Teagan toppling over the coffee table.
I moved forward without thinking, grabbing her on her way down and pulling her against me.
“Let go of her!” the roomie screamed, turning our fight into one, big, horrible clusterfuck. Nails clawed my back as I dropped Teagan the last few inches to the floor, hopefully unhurt. “Get the fuck out!”
“I'm going!” I screamed back at them, raking my fingers through my hair as I cast one glance in Teagan Fletcher's direction. If the look on her face could've killed me then, I would've been dead.
I stood in the bathroom wiping tears from my eyes and wondering why the hell I'd ever come up here. Because you got a full ride scholarship, duh. But that wasn't the only reason. Deep, deep down in a place I refused to acknowledge, I'd been hoping for some kind of miracle reunion with Tyce.
“Stupid,” I said as I rubbed at my smudged liner and sucked in slow, simple breaths. If I'd been wearing my Fitbit, the damn thing would be going nuts. My heart rate was dangerously high, making me feel dizzy. It was a half-breed of anger and melancholy that was getting me now.
Tyce knew.
Tyce had looked me in the face in the park, on the balcony, and he'd put on an arrogant casanova smirk to throw me off, to avoid dealing with the shit he must've known was coming his way.
“Coward,” I growled, throwing the makeup smudged tissue in the toilet. It soaked up the water and sunk, just like my heart had when Tyce had mentioned my mother. I closed my eyes tight and refused to think about her.
“Teagan?” Chelease asked, knocking softly at the door. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I lied, looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed and puffy, but I refused to acknowledge the depth of my emotions. I'm being melodramatic, I thought to myself as I tried to wipe the image of Tyce's angry face from my thoughts. Why he thought he had any right to be angry was beyond me. And then bursting into my apartment like that? Kissing me like that. I blinked several times and reached back to gather my hair into a pony.
Well, there goes my first kiss.
And it definitely wasn't what I was expecting.
Like a lot of girls, I'd dreamed of having a romantic, butterfly filled fairytale of a kiss. I mean, growing up in a trailer park with a mom who worked three jobs and never managed to make ends meet, I knew better. I had no dad, no money, no family except my mom and Tyce. And then even those things had failed me. Yet still, I clung to the idea of a white knight on a horse to my own detriment. Eighteen years, never been kissed, virgin. Until recently, I'd still been stupidly in love with the memory of Tyce Winship, a feeling I was certain he'd never reciprocated.
I grabbed my liquid liner from the countertop and leaned forward, using a practiced hand to wrap the darkness around my eye. With my strawberry pale lashes and light green eyes, I needed that darkness to highlight my gaze. When Tyce had left, I'd been a chubby pre-teen who was bullied mercilessly and used anger to fight back. After I got over the initial pain of losing him, I decided to go a different route. I got in shape, learned how to paint my face like I was Pat McGrath, and threw myself into my studies.
So, screw Tyce Winship.
“Fuck him,” I whispered into the mirror, flicking off the bathroom light and opening the door to find Chelease wringing her hands nervously and wiping tears from those high, sculpted cheeks of hers. The dark truffle color of her skin was flushed and beads of sweat clung to her brow. “Are you okay?” I asked as she leaned against the wall in a bright yellow and orange dress that seemed too cheerful against the expression on her face.
“What happened?” she asked me, her voice a little broken, a little dark. I'd never heard it like that before. Granted, I didn't know the girl very well, but I'd at least thought I'd gotten a sense of her personality these last few weeks. “Why was Tyce Winship here?” Chelease swallowed hard and closed her eyes, reaching up to run her palm over her braids. “What was he doing to you?” she asked, that darkness lacing her tone turning to poison. Her brown eyes narrowed, locking onto my face and refusing to let go. “If he touched you—” she began, but I cut her off.
“Oh no, no, no,” I said, thinking about the way I acted and realizing I could've handled things better. “He didn't hit me,” I assured her and, noticing that her expression hadn't lightened at all decided to add, “or anything else. Seriously. We were just arguing and I tripped.”
“You tripped backwards?” she asked, standing up and looking down at me like she could smell a lie. “Sorry, girl, but I don't buy that for a second. I know everybody thinks Tyce is a fucking god, but you can tell me. If he did something to you, he has to pay for it.”
“Thank you, Chelease,” I said, hoping I sounded sincere. Tyce had hurt me, but not in any of the ways she was thinking. Well, then, why don't you let me do you the favor of taking it off? I guarantee by the time we're done, you'll be a huge fan. How the hell he thought he could talk to me like that was beyond me. I couldn't decide if I would've been less upset at him for not recognizing me. No, no, I think this was actually worse. “Tyce might be a dick, but he didn't do anything.”
Chelease looked me up and down with narrowed eyes, straightening the silver necklace around her throat.
“Sure,” she snapped, turning away and disappearing into her room with the slam of a door. What was that about? I wondered as I headed back to my own room to finish getting dressed. I had plans tonight, and I wasn't going to let Tyce Winship screw them up for me.
I might've—might've—come to this school in part because I thought I might see Tyce again. Maybe. I still wasn't quite ready to admit that to myself yet. But none of that mattered. I still had a scholarship and a life to cultivate, whether he gave a crap about it or not.
I had all of about three outfits in my closet. Not by choice, of course. What girl doesn't wish she had a closet full of fabulous? But fabulous requires money and that was something I'd just never had. In the end, I found myself standing outside Chelease's door in desperation. Thankfully she'd taken pity on me and dressed me in a sexy black boyfriend tank and a pair of LuLaRoe leggings that belonged to her sister. Red and pink roses dotted the fabric, a pattern that made me think mercilessly of Tyce's rose tattoos. He had a big, beautiful one on the back of his right hand and several more black and gray ones dotting his right arm.
I almost didn't wear the damn leggings.
“I don't know why you're letting some stupid football dick dictate your actions,” Chelease had said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and giving me a look that promised if I took the leggings off, I'd regret it.
So there I was, standing outside the door to New Intentions, a brand-new club in downtown Eugene, listening to the thumping heartbeat of music from inside and holding my mom's Prada clutch by my side. It'd been a present from Tyce's foster mom, before we'd known the full extent of his story. It was the last gift my mother had ever taken from that bitch. Once, I'd asked her why she'd even kept it. Girlie-Girl, the wicked don't always get theirs in the end, so if they give you something, liberate it and be glad it ain't theirs no more.
I sighed and pulled out my ID, holding it out to the bouncer and letting him slap me with a bright blue Under 21 bracelet. Of course, everyone who was actually twenty-one had their own bracelet, but I'd heard from Chelease that there was big money in the club for trading the two around. Whatever. I wasn't here to drink.
I stepped inside to Meghan Trainor's “NO” and made myself smile. The
old me, she approached any social situation with a scowl and a series of retorts ready to rapid fire. I reminded myself that I was different now, that even though I still had a core of steel, I could show the world a smile.
I moved through the bumping, writhing bodies of the crowd, surprised to see the place so packed, and found a spot at the counter. I ordered a soda, just so I wouldn't feel out of place when everyone else had drinks in their hands, and settled myself in to people watch for a while.
As usual, the place was packed with people in green and yellow, sporting the giant yellow 'O' that served as a logo for our school and their infamous Pac-12 football team. The décor was a startling contrast to all that color with black-on-black-on-black. Walls, floor and ceiling made an even canvas for the bright burst of bodies twisting and syncing to the music. Overhead, a chandelier dripped in green and yellow crystal. Yet another nod to the team. Otherwise, the place could've been a club from Anywhere, USA. That was okay by me since I was from Nowhere, USA. To some, it might've been boring. To me, it was the best nightlife I'd ever seen in person.
I took a sip of my soda, tucking the blue straw between lips traced in glossy black and splashed with glittery bursts of red. The splatters looked messy and accidental, but they were oh-so-purposeful.
“Those lips are killer!” a girl said as she whisked by, clearly buzzed and enjoying the evening. Still, I basked in the compliment and let her take a selfie with me. “You should come dance,” she said after we'd finished posing together, double duck faces and all. I let her lead me out on the floor, feeding off the wild party vibe that was filling the air.
I wanted a college experience and damn Tyce Winship to hell, I was going to get one.
“Mind if I join you?” a guy said, squeezing in behind me and smiling wide, a pair of drinks in his hand. “Couldn't help but notice the bummer bracelet,” he continued, nodding his chin at me and the bright blue slash on my wrist. I stared back at him, my new friend still twerking next to me while I gazed at the statuesque wall of muscle next to me. “Kai Duran,” he added, introducing himself as I continued to gawk.
Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 3