Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance
Page 12
“One of the guys on the team is local, and his parents own some huge mansion in Southwest Eugene. I don't know the exact address.”
“Don't need it. I know exactly where you're going. Mason Fenna's place.”
“Mason Fenna?” I wracked my brain trying to match the player with his position, but I wasn't nearly as good at all this sports stuff as Melia was. She sighed at me and turned on some loud reggae music in the background; it was her going out playlist. I'd already heard it several times since we'd met. Melia liked to go out a lot. At least she was a happy drunk.
“He's in the twos,” she told me, meaning he was a second string player. “Sophomore QB, all geared up to take Tyce's place when he goes into the NFL next season.”
“Oh.” Talking about Tyce leaving after I'd just found him again made me feel weird. I already knew he was pushing it by adding a third year to his college career. Most guys as good as him skipped out and into the NFL as soon as they could. After all, you never knew when an injury might happen so it was best to go pro and snatch those fat paychecks ASAP. I knew all of this, not from Tyce himself, but from Melia and her football obsessed posse. They practically worshipped at the Ducks altar.
“I'm dressing up as a cheerleader, not entirely original I know, but I want to get laid by a football player and live out a fantasy here.” I listened to her describe her green and yellow costume, but I had a difficult time imagining her actually wearing it. Melia was … I didn't want to put her in a box, but she had hairy armpits, a mandala tattooed on the back of her neck and a pet tarantula. Cheerleader was definitely an 'out there' costume for her. “What about you?”
“I'm not sure yet,” I lied, because all I was sure about was that I didn't have money for a costume. I had a fallback plan though—makeup. I had plenty of it, most of it stolen from the drug store back home. Not something I was proud of, but it was over and done with and I had it here with me now, so I was going to use it. “I'll send a pic when I figure it out.”
“Don't worry about it. I'll be at the party, and we'll dance—and then you'll hand me your cherry popping friend for a sexy number, preferably one that involves twerking.”
“Tyce is kind of a dick. If you want to dance with him, ask him. I'll see you in a few hours.”
I hung up on Melia and ignored the frantic pumping of my heart. Cherry popping. Jesus. How gross. It made me think of scrubbing blood off my thighs, alone. I didn't want to think about that right now. Tyce was actually as cool as I remembered him when we weren't fighting or fucking. I needed to hold onto that.
'Can I come over early for pre-drinking?' Tyce texted as I opened the top drawer of my dresser and tried to figure out how I was going to come up with a costume idea that made sense. 'I'll bring the booze if you tell me what you're wearing tonight.'
I frowned and grabbed an old white dress of my mother's from the pile of rumpled clothes. I didn't fold anything—ever. I just didn't have time for it with school and … Tyce drama. I laid it out on the bed and then snatched the blue corset I'd bought at the thrift store last week. It was in the dollar bin, okay? I didn't know how I felt about wearing somebody else's used lingerie, but it seemed to be in pretty good shape. Royal blue, lined with satin, with a set of ties in the back and hook and eyes in the front. I had no clue what to do with it, but it'd seemed like a costume-y thing at the time, so I bought it.
'You can come over, but I don't know what I'm wearing. You?'
A picture buzzed into my phone.
It was Tyce, dressed in very, very little. He was sporting tight jeans, black boots, and absolutely no shirt. Um. The long, lean shot of his midsection was emphasized by the height of the camera as he'd lifted it above his head. The shape of his mouth said he knew how delicious he looked right now.
'That is not a costume,' I told him as I glanced down at the white shift, the blue corset. My mind was starting to flick ideas around, coming up with a creative mishmash of a plan. Galaxy. I wanted to go as a galaxy tonight. Why not? The world was a big place, but it was a speck when compared to the entirety of the galaxy. Besides, a killer makeup idea had just popped into my head.
'Is too. I'm going as a rock star. They never wear any fucking clothes.'
'I don't know what kind of rock shows you've been going to, but they usually wear more than that.'
'I'm gonna sound like a douche, but I've been too busy with games and practice to figure anything else out. You're not too embarrassed to go with someone in such a lame fucking costume?'
Embarrassed to attend the party with a guy who was on his way into the NFL, who had six pack abs, who pretty much everyone at the university lusted after. Hmm. Tough choice.
'Better than that time you dressed up as your foster mom for Halloween.'
I remembered that like it was yesterday, Tyce dolled up in bright pink lipstick, a blonde wig and a navy blue suit he'd stolen from Jackie's closet. He'd even stuffed his shirt with water balloons. One of them broke during trick or treating. It was amazing.
He sent me back an LOL and then, 'Yeah, those were the days. Can't wait to see what you decide to wear. See you in twenty, Tea?'
'I'll be waiting.'
I sent off that last text, my heart bouncing up into my throat like it was on a trampoline. I hated getting nervous about Tyce, but I couldn't make it stop. I didn't know how. Instead, I made a plan to grab some of Chelease's fabric paints and splatter the dress in artful blues and purples and golds, like a swirl of nebulous gas or something. It was quick dry, so it'd be ready to wear in a jiff. I'd be able to check off the sexy Halloween angle with the corset and the lacy shortness of the shift dress, but it'd be the makeup that would pull it all together.
Now, I just needed to make sure my roommate would let me borrow her precious craft supplies. She got mad at me once for using her glue gun without asking to fix the heel of my old tennis shoe.
“Hey Chelease,” I asked as I moved into the living room and found her digging costume pieces out of an orange bag from the Halloween store. She'd bought everything for her sexy witch costume two weeks ago. On top of everything as usual. It wasn't very inventive, but considering what I knew of Chelease, that was as out there as Melia's cheerleading outfit. Polar opposite girls, polar opposite costume choices. “Can I borrow your paints for a quick costume fix? I promise I won't mess anything up.”
“Sure,” she said, nodding her head at the small hallway linen closet, the one that didn't actually have any linens in it. It was filled with Chelease's arts and crafts supplies. “Fifth shelf down on the right.”
“Perfect, thank you,” I chirped, in way too good of a mood. But I was going out, and I was having fun with Tyce, and … I just didn't feel like being in a bad mood anymore. “Oh, and my friend Tyce will be here in a little bit. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”
The sound of crinkling plastic in the dining area stopped and this deadly sort of silence settled in the air around us. I grabbed the plastic bin, stuffed to the brim with neatly organized fabric paints, and then stood up, closing the hallway door with my foot.
Chelease was glaring at me, her brown eyes almost black with dilated pupils.
“Is everything okay?” I asked her as she reached up and tore the pale blue scarf off her head. “Chelease?”
“No,” she snapped at me, throwing things around as she searched for something in her costume pile. “It's not. Why do you keep hanging out with that guy? I saw him hit you, Teagan. I saw you stumble home from the park looking like you'd had your heart broken in half. And after coffee, your eyes were empty and blank. You don't have to give into him just because he plays for the Ducks.”
“I'm not,” I snapped back, suddenly defensive. Had I looked that terrible after my outings with Tyce? “And he didn't hit me. I fell.”
“Sure, whatever,” Chelease growled as she tore open a plastic bag and shook out a glittery purple witch hat. It snapped into its triangle shape with a pop. “Lie to yourself if you want, but don't lie to me, okay?”
When I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, she jerked violently away from me.
“Chelease, what's wrong?” Without warning, her eyes filled with tears and she started ripping her own dress off, slipping the witch outfit over her head with violent, jerking motions. I watched as she pulled a petticoat up her legs and fluffed out the skirt. “Did Tyce do something to you?” I started to freak inside, worrying about a past hookup gone wrong or something, but that was just me being a selfish, stupid a-hole. It was so much worse than that.
“Not Tyce,” she snapped, kicking off her sandals and grabbing a pair of pantyhose from the table. “Not exactly.” Chelease sniffed as tears rolled down her cheeks in fat, wet drops, splattering her bare toes and bouncing off her carefully applied purple polish. “I just don't trust guys like him, Teagan, and I don't want to see you get hurt.”
“Guys like what?” I asked carefully, aware that we were stepping into dangerous territory here. I set the paints on the table, my hands resting on either side of the bin as I watched Chelease lift the top off a box of black heels and toss them on the floor. She flopped into a chair and started yanking the pantyhose up her right leg.
“Entitled dicks.” A grunt as the nylons caught on the edge of her heel. I'd hardly call Tyce entitled even now, but he was an asshole. And he did have a bit of a god complex going on. Still, I wanted to defend him. Despite everything, I still wanted to stand up and be on his side. “Football players. Whatever. Same difference. They treat these athletes like they're literal gods and some of them really start believing it.”
The tears continued to roll down her face as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it and pulled out another chair, a hard steel gray seat with no cushion. It wasn't for lack of wanting; Chelease liked the look of them.
“Did something happen? I know we're not super close or anything yet, but whatever it is, I can help. I've been through some shit, too. If you need to unload, you can do it on me.”
“You don't want to hear about any of this shit,” she snapped, finally getting the spiderweb patterned pantyhose up to her mid thighs on both legs. Chelease stood up and started wiggling into them, flashing me some matching spider panties underneath her skirt. All the details taken care of to a T. “You have a date with a football player, so why would you want to hear me talk smack about one?”
I didn't bother to correct her and tell her that it wasn't a date, just a friend thing. We weren't going as a couple. Tyce just happened to mention that there was a party and asked what I was doing. Since I didn't have any plans or any reliable form of transportation, he offered to take me with him. But Chelease was clearly hurting, and she didn't need to hear any of that crap.
“You can say whatever you want,” I told her honestly. “I won't judge, and I won't get upset.”
“Are you going to that party tonight?” she asked, her voice going scarily quiet. When she looked up at me, there was a glint of fear in her eyes. “At Mason's?” I nodded slowly and she pursed her lips so tight the skin on either side of her mouth wrinkled. “Be careful, okay? Keep a hand over your drink at all times.”
A chill flickered down my spine as Chelease stood up and twisted her sea of long braids into a messy bun. I didn't like where this was going. Apparently neither did Chelease because she swiped her thumbs under her eyes and flicked away the tears. Her mascara didn't even run.
A second later, my phone buzzed in time with a knock on the door.
It was Tyce.
“Chelease,” I started again, but she was already moving down the hallway, witch hat in hand. Clearly this conversation was over, but I wasn't going to forget it. Later, when she was ready, we'd talk. I'd make sure of it.
“You're early,” Teagan said when she pulled open the door and pretended not to notice my outfit. It damn near killed me to see her turned on, see her cheeks go red and her breathing start to pick up. It made me wonder what she'd look like if I rode her all night, pushed her wrists into the mattress and stared into her eyes while I fucked her. I didn't let myself think about the park. If she didn't need to talk about it, I was done thinking about it. Period.
“Kai decided he wanted to come over here to pick you up. Original plan was to leave him at Mason's and then come and get you with his car.”
“He's downstairs?” Teagan asked, still standing in the doorway, not letting me in. It felt like maybe she didn't want to let me in. I didn't blame her. I was scared to be alone in a room with her, to be so close to a bed. Clearly, a cold, dark public park was little discouragement so how would all of that go down?
I shrugged.
“Don't worry about him. He's busy sexting his girlfriend of the week.”
Shit.
Teagan's jaw clenched tight, and she stepped suddenly out of the way, like it was now of immediate importance for her to prove she could do this. I moved into the apartment and noticed her roommate's clothes on the floor by the table just before I heard her moving around in her bedroom. I guess that was supposed to be our deterrent. Not that I needed one. Fuck no. I had this all under control. If I couldn't stop thinking about Teagan, but I couldn't have her, then I'd befriend her again.
Simple solution to a complicated problem.
Until your idiot ass just reminded you both about that night with the pictures and the videos. We were basically cyber fucking.
“I have to finish up my costume and do my makeup,” Teagan said, glancing down the hall at her bedroom door. Maybe she wasn't even going to invite me in there at all? I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't seen it. That night I'd jumped the balcony, I'd been in there. It wasn't her though, too sterile. But for whatever reason, it was really important to me that she take me back there, that we both played this game where we were platonic as hell together. “Do you want me to do yours, too?”
I wrinkled my nose as she walked in the kitchen and snatched a black trash bag from under the sink and then grabbed a plastic bin off the table and hefted it under one arm.
“I'm not sure if I'm ready to rock anymore pink lipstick. That one time in Jackie's was more than enough for me.”
“Don't be a smart-ass,” Teagan said, reaching down and wrapping her hand around mine. Shock wave. Hot and fierce it rippled from my fingertips straight into my chest and then immediately ricocheted down to my dick. Teagan's shoulders stiffened, but she kept walking, pulling me down the hallway and into her bedroom.
When she released my hand, I went to close the door.
“Stop,” she blurted and then, more calmly, “leave it open, please.”
I watched her tuck some red hair behind her ear as cracked open the lid to the bin and pulled out some plastic bottles of paint.
“What are you doing?” I asked as she pushed some clothes to the side, ripped the garbage bag in half and then covered her comforter. I was still holding a bottle of bourbon in my left hand, all of my attention riveted onto Teagan. Perfect reason why friendship is all we can have. Watching her move into the hallway and come back with a jar full of paintbrushes, I was fascinated. Entranced. If she were my girlfriend … I'd never make it to practice. I'd be in bed with her every damn day.
“Finishing my costume,” she said, dipping a brush into some blue paint and then splattering it across a white lacy nothing that was lying on top of the garbage bag. Splashes of color hit the beige wall on the other side, but she didn't seem fazed by that. There's my Teagan, I thought with a horrible thrill, remembering that time we broke into a train car and ate six packages of Oreos before the workers found us there and chased us off.
Back home, in Venus' place, Teagan's room was a mirage of color and shape and sound. There were wind chimes hanging from the ceiling, an ugly mural of a cat she'd painted whe
n she was eight, a collage of magazine photos around the single window by her bed.
My heart contracted painfully and I lifted the bourbon up, twisting off the cap and tossing back a drink before I handed it over to her.
“Chelease is going to kill me if she sees this,” Teagan told me, taking a drink and passing it back. She didn't stop painting, smearing the dress with blue, purple, silver, gold, pale green. I had no clue what she was doing, but it was fascinating. “Okay,” she declared after the wall looked like a solar system behind her bed. “Good enough. Now sit down.”
“You're not really going to put any makeup on me, are you?” I asked as Teagan rubbed the paint on her hands off on her ripped up blue jeans. Jesus. The curve of her body as she bent over, the way her hair fell around her face as she stood back up and looked straight at me.
“Take a seat, Mr. Winship,” she said as she pulled out a high backed chair and gestured for me to sit in it. “Rock stars might not wear much in the way of clothing, but even the boys need a good makeup artist.”
“The guys are going to freak,” I joked, but I didn't really didn't give a fuck. Kai was sitting in the car dressed as Thor, with a foam hammer at his side. Like he had any room to talk. “But the girls will probably go nuts.” I was trying to lighten the mood, let Teagan know that she was off the hook, that I wasn't looking at her like that anymore. Only … I seriously fucking was, and all my comment did was make her purse her lips at me. “Maybe you can put a pic of me on your Instagram?” I said as she came around the chair and picked up a black pencil.
“Oh, big shot, huh? You think my three thousand and two followers care about some washed-up old quarterback?”
“Ouch,” I started, a smile taking over my mouth as I enjoyed the banter between us. See, so much better already. No more fighting. But then Teagan stepped between my open knees, putting her body up close and personal with my crotch. My breath hissed out as she leaned down and closed my eyes with her fingers.