Before I can summon an answer, his strong arms wrap around my body before tugging me close. It’s oh-so-tempting to sink into the warm comfort, squeeze my eyes shut, and pretend this has been nothing more than an ugly nightmare that will disintegrate in my memory come morning. Unfortunately, doing that will only feed the gossip that is probably, at this very moment, spreading across campus like wildfire.
Instead of burying my face against his steely strength, I force myself to glance at the people who continue to stare wide-eyed. Embarrassment flags my cheeks, flooding them with heat. Loud whispers ripple through the group.
Don’t these people have anything better to do than stand around and gawk?
Apparently not.
Knowing that I can’t stay in his arms, I push away from Rowan, needing to separate myself. Ugly speculation is already running rampant. I certainly don’t need to add fuel to the fire. I’ve suffered enough mortification for one morning.
“We should probably get to class,” I mutter.
With my head lowered, I slink toward Corbin Hall. Rowan stays steadfast at my side. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I realize he’s trying to be supportive, but his attentive manner only makes matters worse. The knowing whispers and snickers burn the tips of my ears.
As we reach the doors, Rowan stretches around me, grabbing hold of the metal handle before pulling it open. My brain churns as we silently move through the crowded corridor. Relief fills me as we make it to the small lecture hall, and I’m able to slip into the last row. At least I won’t have to feel a dozen pair of eyes drilling into the back of my head for the next fifty minutes. With any luck, this will blow over in a day or so. A huff escapes from my lips as I slump onto a chair.
When Rowan moves to settle next to me, I mumble, “Would you mind sitting somewhere else?” My gaze flickers over our classmates who already fill the room. Half of them are swiveled around and staring in our direction. Speculation fills their eager faces as if they’re waiting for us to add to the drama that unfolded outside. I’ll be damned if I give them anything more to salivate over.
Hurt flashes in Rowan’s eyes, leaving me to feel like a first-class jerk. It’s on the tip of my tongue to apologize, but I can’t push out the words.
When I remain silent, he mutters, “Yeah, sure. No problem.”
From the corner of my eye, I watch as he slides to the end of the row before walking down the carpeted staircase. A few girls wave, trying to capture his attention before calling him over to an unoccupied desk.
My belly pinches with unwanted jealousy. His expression transforms and he smiles, focusing on the trio of girls. It should be a relief that he’s taken the hint and is no longer at my side. Without us putting on a show, people have already lost interest and are turning away.
Whether Rowan understands it or not, I did what needed to be done. Neither of us want the rumor mill churning at our expense.
And yet, that knowledge only makes me feel worse.
13
Demi
This has turned out to be one hell of a shitty day. Someone needs to explain how Justin is the one who cheated, and yet, he’s managed to turn everything around and make me the bad guy in this fucked up scenario. Instead of his name being on everyone’s lips, it’s mine.
The sidelong glances I’ve been getting from people I don’t even know is ridiculous. At first, I told myself it was nothing more than my imagination. But it’s become clear throughout the morning that isn’t the case. I keep hearing my name paired with Rowan and the team. Apparently, I’ve been a busy girl and screwed every single one of them. Lord knows how I have time for so much sex with both school and soccer.
Unsure what to do, I escaped to the only place capable of making me feel better.
I lay on my back in the middle of the stadium field and stare up at the bright blue canvas of sky stretched out overhead. Normally, I would grab something to eat between my second and third class, but there was no way I was walking into the Union without reinforcements.
My fingers stroke absently over the turf as I try to settle all of the rioting emotion inside me. I’ve never been one to let petty bullshit bother me, but what’s happening right now stings. I foolishly allowed the person into my life who set all of this into motion. Instead of being apologetic and taking responsibility for his bad behavior, Justin would rather make me out to be the villain in this scenario.
Every once in a while, the football rumors will rear their ugly head. When they do, I’m always worried that Dad will catch wind of them. He’s never come out and said I couldn’t date any of the guys on the team. It’s more of an unspoken rule. If I were to get together with one of his players, it would only complicate matters. Not only between me and my dad, but him and the guys. So, I’ve always done what’s best for everyone and steered clear.
And yet, here we are.
Again.
A heavy sigh escapes from my lips.
“Is it really that bad?”
Rowan’s deep voice knocks me from my thoughts. I blink against the harsh sunlight, shielding my eyes as he drops down beside me. An uncomfortable silence settles over us. One I’m unsure how to break. I’m embarrassed by my earlier behavior. I know he was only trying to help.
“Why are you here?” Practice is never scheduled for this time of day.
His voice softens. “Because I know you’re upset about what that jackass said, and I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
The concern filling his voice only makes me feel worse. Rowan is being so damn nice, and I don’t deserve it after the way I treated him.
The guilt nearly swallows me whole, and I force myself to say, “Sorry for asking you to move in stats. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Rowan stretches out beside me. His head is only a few inches from mine. The tips of our fingers touch but don’t entwine. And yet, I’m acutely aware of them.
Of him.
All it would take is a slight movement, and we would be holding hands. The temptation that crashes over me only serves to confuse me more. If I’m being completely honest with myself, I’m ridiculously aware of Rowan on every level. I’m hyperaware of the way his chest rises and falls with each deep inhalation. No one has ever made me feel like this, and I’m uncertain what to do with it.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” His voice drops, becoming rough and low. “I understand why you did it.”
And yet, the hurt that had flashed across his face tells a different story.
“I shouldn’t have. You were only trying to help. The rumors have circulated before, and I’m sure they’ll make the rounds again before I graduate.” I’ve enjoyed going to school here and playing soccer, but the gossip is one thing I won’t miss.
“Justin is an asshole for turning everything around on you.”
True story.
“Yup, he is.” For the umpteenth time, regret flickers through me. “I wish I’d realized it sooner.”
“Don’t say I didn’t try to warn you.”
I rotate my head until our gazes can lock. A small smile simmers on his face.
“Please, you’ve never liked any of the guys I’ve dated.”
“Can I help it if you have terrible taste in men?”
“Oh, really?” My brows shoot up across my forehead. I’m about to argue when I slam my mouth shut. He’s right. I have shitty taste in men which is exactly why none of my previous relationships have worked out.
“Fine. If there comes a time when I’m ready to date, I’ll let you pick out the next victim. You couldn’t possibly do any worse than me.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” he shoots back. “Although, you might be surprised by who I choose.”
The scrape of his deep voice sends a fresh wave of nerves cascading down my spine. The way his blue eyes sharpen on me has the bottom of my belly hollowing out.
A heavy silence descends.
He raises a brow in challenge. “Not going to ask who I have in mind?”
It’s a loaded question,
and we both realize it. I’m not quite ready to go there. Not when I’m still licking the wounds Justin needlessly inflicted earlier this morning. When neither of us takes the conversation further, the thick tension permeating the air gradually recedes, leaving behind a surprising tranquility as we lay stretched out in the middle of the football field. It feels as if something unidentifiable has shifted but I’m not sure what; or even how it happened.
After about five minutes, I clear my throat and force out the rest. “I also wanted to thank you for coming to my defense. You didn’t need to get involved.”
When he turns his head, I do the same until our gazes collide. Confusion furrows his brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”
I jerk my shoulders and try to come up with a plausible explanation before finally admitting the truth. “I guess we’ve never really been friends.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” A heartbeat passes. “Why do you think that is?”
I suck my bottom lip into my mouth and chew it thoughtfully before refocusing my attention on the cloudless sky overhead. It feels as if I’m walking through a minefield. One wrong answer could blow me to smithereens.
When I remain silent, he says, “Demi?” A strange urgency fills his voice. One that brings the tension that always seems to simmer beneath the surface back full force. He rolls onto his side so that his head is propped up by his palm, and he’s able to stare down at me.
My tongue darts out to moisten my lips. “I don’t know...”
How can I explain that I’m frightened by the intense energy we always generate? That I’ve never experienced this level of attraction with anyone else. Maybe it’s one-sided, and he’s unaware of it. Somehow, it would be worse if he did feel it because there’s not a damn thing that can happen. Rowan is Dad’s star quarterback. And I’m the coach’s daughter. I’m not the type of person who believes rules are in place to be broken.
“I think you do, and I want you to tell me,” he urges. When I fail to respond, he continues. “You’ve always kept me at arm’s length. Are you finally going to tell me why?”
“That’s not true,” I whisper. But Rowan is right, that’s exactly what I do.
A knowing smile settles on his lips. “Yeah, it is. And I get the feeling it’s purposeful.”
It’s shocking to realize how much he’s noticed throughout the years. Too scared to reveal the truth, I scramble to come up with an alternative that’s believable. “I’m not sure you’ll understand...”
The intensity of his stare never wavers. “Try me.”
I inhale before carefully expelling it from my lungs. “Sometimes it feels like we’re in competition with each other.”
When that statement is met with a deafening silence, I flick my gaze nervously to him.
His brows slam together. Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. “I don’t understand. How are we in competition?”
If only it were possible to abort this uncomfortable conversation. One look at his face tells me that he won’t drop it easily. So, I force myself to continue, only wanting to get it over with. As much as I don’t want to share this with him, it’s better than revealing the truth. The little bit of peace I had managed to find at the stadium has now been shattered by Rowan’s presence, and it’s doubtful I’ll be able to find it again.
“Throughout my dad’s career as a coach, players have come and gone from his life. Once they graduate, he always stays in touch, but none have become a part of our lives the way you have.” I shrug self-consciously. “You’re probably the closest thing my dad will have to a son.” The sentiment is like an arrow through my heart because it is unflinchingly true.
Emotion crashes over his handsome features.
Happiness.
Longing.
And finally, understanding.
“Demi.” The way he says my name strums something deep inside. His voice drops, sounding as if it’s been scraped from the bottom of the ocean. “You have to know how much Coach loves you.”
“I do,” I cut in, cheeks flaming with humiliation. I sound like a jealous, spoiled brat, and I hate it. That’s not who I am.
There has never been a time in my life when I didn’t think my father loved me. But I also realize that he probably wishes I’d been a boy. One who he could share his passion for football with—a son who would follow in his footsteps. That’s the kind of relationship he has with Rowan. There’s an unbreakable bond between them. One I’m not part of.
I startle when Rowan strokes his fingers against the curve of my jaw.
“No one means more to him than you. He’s always talking about what an amazing soccer player you are, and that you might try out for the National Women’s Soccer League. Or how smart you are, and that you have a near four-point GPA.” Before I can interrupt, he continues. “You are the most important person in his life.”
My heart swells, and a thick lump settles in my throat, making it impossible to suck in oxygen. I know my dad loves me but to hear everything Rowan is saying is like a balm for my soul. Especially after the morning I’ve had.
“You might not realize this, but I owe everything to your father. Coach was there when I needed a strong male hand to guide me. Without him,” he jerks his shoulders as uncertainty fills his eyes, “I don’t know where I would be.”
There’s a naked vulnerability in his expression. One that knocks me off-balance and takes me by surprise. There has never been a time when Rowan and I have opened up to one another like this. I’ve always been so careful to keep our relationship at a surface level. It was so much easier that way. But that, I realize with a punch to the gut, is no longer possible.
It’s only now that we’ve torn down some of the walls, and I’m able to see him with clear eyes, I realize how little I know about Rowan’s background. I search my memory, going back to when my father first scouted him. The only thing I remember hearing about was the fourteen-year-old kid with one hell of an arm. I met him right before freshman year of high school, and Rowan has been a permanent fixture in my life ever since.
I’ve never questioned the reason for that.
Is his family in the picture? Does he even have one?
If you asked me about his football stats, I could rattle them off because I’ve heard him and my father discuss them ad nauseum. But personal information? I don’t have a clue. It’s a giant void.
“What about your parents?” He mentioned needing a strong male hand, does that mean his father wasn’t in the picture?
All of the sudden, curiosity eats away at me, and I’m hungry for more information.
A dark shadow flickers across his face before his expression turns guarded. “What about them?”
I blink, surprised by his reaction. Now that we’re finally digging deep and sharing personal information, I wasn’t expecting him to clam up. “I don’t know...do you see them often?”
“Nope.” He bites out the word and shifts as if uncomfortable with the direction our conversation has swerved in.
“Why not?” I’m slammed with a thought, and my eyes widen. Barely can I force out the question. “Are they...dead?”
“No.” He shakes his head as his voice softens. “They’re both still very much alive.”
From his expression, I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.
“But you don’t have much contact with them?” What I really want is for Rowan to open up on his own and explain to me why my father is a surrogate to him when it’s obvious he has his own family.
Instead he says, “It’s a complicated situation.”
“Oh.”
What has become clear from our brief conversation is that Rowan isn’t comfortable when it comes to discussing his past. I suppose I should respect that. It only proves that Rowan and I aren’t friends. If we were, opening up wouldn’t be so difficult. And maybe that’s for the best. The two of us becoming all buddy-buddy—or more—would only complicate matters, and that’s the last thing I need.
Another silence descends,
and I allow my eyelids to drift closed. The heat of the sun strokes over my cheeks. There’s something soothing about the warmth. It’s like getting a straight shot of vitamin D.
I’m startled out of my drowsy state when he says quietly, “If you don’t want me to come to dinner anymore or hang around with your dad, I get it.” There’s a pause. “I don’t have a problem backing away. I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.”
When my eyelids feather open, it’s to find Rowan staring down at me. There’s an intensity filling his eyes that leaves me feeling slightly winded. It blows open the door I was attempting to slam shut.
“I don’t want to cause a problem between you two,” he adds when I remain silent.
The possibility of him withdrawing from our lives—from my life—is enough to send a sliver of fear scampering down my spine. “That’s not what I want.”
He searches my gaze carefully as if it’s possible to sift through my thoughts and discover the truth for himself. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
A sigh of relief escapes from my lips when he changes the subject. “Can we meet up at the library tonight and work on the stats assignment?”
Right.
Tutoring.
“Yeah.” Mentally I go over my schedule for the remainder of the day. “Does seven o’clock work?” When he nods, I add, “East wing of the second floor near the Curriculum Collection?”
He gives me a bemused look, and I shrug self-consciously. “What? I’ve studied there enough times to know it’s quiet.”
I spend a lot of time at the library. There’s something about the peacefulness and being surrounded by all those books that helps me focus. When Dad asks me to tutor some of the guys, that’s my go-to place.
“All right,” he says, “it’s a date.”
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “What—no! We’re just studying—”
“Relax, Richards.” A grin flashes across his face. “It was a figure of speech.”
“Oh.” I force out a nervous chuckle. “Right, I knew that.”
Rowan pops easily to his feet. The way he stares down at me makes my skin buzz. Our gazes lock and hold. Some unidentifiable emotion flickers in his deep-blue depths before disappearing, and he stretches out a hand for me to take hold of. The moment I place my fingers in his, a zip of electricity sizzles through me. With barely any effort at all, he pulls me to my feet. My hand stays enveloped in his larger one as my gaze searches his.
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