Kicked

by Celia Aaron

  “I still can’t believe we did it.” He shook his head.

  I yanked my backpack strap tighter as we walked toward the quad. “I knew you’d kill it. You didn’t even blush that much. Maybe a little red, but that was it. You didn’t do that splotch thing you used to do, where it looked like you were having an allergic reac—”

  Before I could finish my thought, Trent picked me up and whirled me around. I grabbed onto his shoulders as he twirled me, and a laugh of pure joy escaped my lips. When he slowed and finally stopped, my feet hit the ground, but my head was in the clouds, spinning from his touch.

  He put a warm hand to my cheek and leaned in. I closed my eyes and waited for my first kiss. His breath tickled my lips, and I panicked about whether I should have put on some gloss or chewed some gum.

  “Cordy.” His whispered word sent tingles along my skin as he pressed his forehead to mine. My heart stopped and waited for his kiss to bring it back to life.

  “Hey, red shirt!” A loud yell broke through the stillness between us.

  I opened my eyes and saw Jake Valley, the Bobcats quarterback, striding toward us.

  “What are you two doing?” He gave a light-hearted laugh. “PDA on the quad?”

  “We were just talking.”

  “Cool.” Jake gave me a warm smile as he walked up. “I’m Jake. You are?”

  “Cordelia Baxter.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cordelia. I was just about to tell the red-shirt here that me and some of the guys were going for pizza later tonight. You two want to join?” He kept his eyes on me.

  “I, um—”

  Trent slung his arm around my shoulder. “We have plans. Sorry, man. Next time?”

  “No, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to spend any time away from this one, either.” He winked at me and kept walking toward the humanities building. “I’ll hit you up next time,” he called.

  Trent’s arm around me felt perfect, and I wanted to snuggle into his chest and just stand like that until the campus police came by and said, “Get off my lawn.”

  “Plans?” I asked and leaned my head against his shoulder.

  Before I could make my snuggle dreams come true, he whipped me around to face him. “Yes, plans. I’m taking you out to dinner to thank you for your help this semester.”

  I could only offer a half smile. I wanted him to take me out because he was interested, not as some sort of thank-you. “You don’t have to do that.” I dropped my eyes to the green grass beneath us.

  “I do. And not just as a thank-you.”

  I held my breath, hoping to hear more of what my heart craved. Was this it? Would I finally get a chance with the guy I’d been crushing on for four months straight?

  I peeked at him through my lashes.

  He smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I want to do this because I like you, Cordy. I want to take you on a date. Our first date.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  TRENT

  ON MONDAY, WE PRACTICED for two more hours until the sun got low enough to hide behind the oaks that ringed the campus.

  Cordy absentmindedly rubbed her right thigh. I had the fleeting thought of offering a massage, but could already envision being shot down in a ball of flames.

  She’d been avoiding my eyes ever since her statement that kissing me was the biggest mistake of her life. That had been a pretty big kick in the stomach, but I tried to play it off and keep coaching her. By the end of practice, she was nailing the center from as far back as forty yards. Anytime she missed one, we’d go over the problem area and she’d try again. She didn’t miss twice in the same spot.

  “Dinner?” I stuffed the last football into my equipment bag.

  She stopped rubbing her thigh and twisted her hands in front of her. “I need to get back. There’s some reading for class, and—”

  “Just something real quick, okay? I don’t want you to go back to your dorm and skip eating. That’s a sure way to screw yourself over at tryouts.” I wanted her company for as long as I could get it. If food was the proper bribe, then I would go all out. “SanPeggio’s is not even a mile from here. Pizza okay?” I happened to know that pizza—with pepperoni, extra cheese, and fresh diced tomatoes—was her favorite food.

  She looked toward Hope Hall, her dorm, and nibbled at her bottom lip some more. That one little movement drove me wild. I wanted to be the one with my teeth against her.

  “I don’t know—”

  “Come on.” I did my best to play it cool, but I was dying to get a yes out of her. “You worked hard today. It’ll be my treat.”

  She narrowed her eyes, as if my last entreaty made the idea even less appealing. I was losing her. Shit.

  Full desperation mode kicked in. “You can bring Landon if you want. You know, if you’re afraid I might keep you in the back of my van and only let you out when it’s time to lotion up or whatever.”

  That got a smile. She threw up her hands. “Come on. Let’s go. I can’t very well turn down free pizza.”

  “That’s my gir—” Oh, shit. “My g-good friend.” I recovered with a stutter. If that could be called a recovery. Perfect.

  Her smile was quickly replaced with a pinched look. “Just because I accept free pizza doesn’t mean I’m your girl.” She turned on her heel and strode to my car.

  I slung the equipment bag over my shoulder and followed. “I know. Sorry. Just an expression.”

  “I’m your kicker, nothing more.” She walked to the passenger door and leaned against it.

  “Right.” I winced at her angry tone, and almost would have preferred a kick to the nuts rather than another protest about how we would never be more than teammates.

  The car chirped and lit up when I hit the button. I stowed my bag in the trunk as she lowered into the passenger side. Once she closed the door, I leaned into the trunk and just breathed for a few moments. She was pissed now, but it would fade. This was my chance to explain.

  Don’t fuck it up. Don’t fuck it up. With that mantra running on a treadmill in my mind, I slammed the trunk shut and prayed she’d let me make it all up to her.

  My fingers shook as I reached for the door handle. The problem with my plan—one that I had yet to think of a way around—was that I’d have to start by telling her the cruel truth about that night two years ago. The truth about me.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CORDY

  TRENT CRANKED UP THE air conditioning, and I leaned forward as the cool air rushed over my skin.

  I whipped my ponytail off my neck and stretched my back. “Mmm, this is heavenly.”

  “Glad you like it.” He took University Drive, winding around the campus and out onto the main road in our college town.

  My phone beeped with a text message. It was Landon.

  Where are you? Feelin some tacos?

  I tapped out a response.

  Getting pizza with Trent. I’ll call when I get back to the dorm.

  My phone beeped again after only a few seconds.

  Trent?

  Then it went off in rapid succession.

  Have you lost your mind?

  Did you forget what he did?

  Where are you?

  I’m coming to get you.

  “Popular, huh?” Trent quirked his lips up in a half smile and parked in front of SanPeggio’s.

  “Something like that.”

  I texted back as Trent got out.

  Don’t worry. It’s just pizza. Calm down. I’ll call after.

  My door opened.

  A slight thrill went through me as I glanced up at Trent. “You didn’t have to open my door for me.”

  “I wanted to.”

  “This isn’t a date.”

  “I think you said that.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

  I stepped out, and he closed the door for me. Cars rolled down the darkening streets, and thunder rumbled in the distance. Billingsley was nestled in the foothills of the Appalachians, just far enough south to have hot, humi
d summers with stormy springs and falls.

  Trent put his hand at the small of my back and led me up onto the sidewalk and to the front door, which he opened for me. I shot him a look, but he only smiled down at me and led me forward with the same steady hand.

  The hostess seated us in the back near the busy kitchen, and the smell of fresh baked dough had my mouth watering. Students packed the tables and booths, and several upperclassmen hovered at the bar along the far wall. Trent sat across from me, but only after I gave him a death stare when he attempted to sit next to me on my side of the booth. Not happening.

  The server walked up and introduced herself, giving Trent a too-bright smile before getting our drinks.

  “What sort of pizza do you like?” He took his beer from the server as she set my lemonade in front of me.

  “I’m not too picky. Just get what you like, and I’ll live with it.”

  Tossing his head back, he took a swig of his beer. He wiped the foam from his upper lip with the back of his hand in a movement that was at once boyish and masculine. Why did he have to be so adorable?

  “So, what are we having?” The server threw her long blonde hair over her shoulder and spoke only to Trent.

  “Um.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I’m kind of feeling pepperoni, extra cheese, and diced tomatoes.” He shot me a glance. “Is that okay with you?”

  I wrinkled my brow. “Actually, that’s perfect.”

  Trent winked at me. “Then I can’t do any better than that. A large please, and some cheese sticks while we wait if that’s cool with you.”

  Since when did he think he could wink at me? “Yeah, cheese sticks are good.” I lifted my bare thighs off the vinyl material of the booth. I was still a little sweaty, and they were sticking.

  “I’ll get your order in.” The blonde smiled and practically skipped off to the kitchen.

  The restaurant buzzed around us as we settled into an awkward silence. Trent took another drink of beer as I unwrapped my straw and lowered it into my glass.

  “So, are you still majoring in literature?” Trent leaned back, getting comfortable while we waited for our food.

  “Yes. You’re still in business?”

  “Right. I’m pretty much done with my coursework. I did a study abroad for the first half of the summer, learning about international markets.”

  “Where was that?”

  “Spain, Portugal, and then a week in Paris.”

  I dropped my eyes to my lemonade. That sort of “study abroad” took some serious cash—the kind I’d never even dreamed of having. Hearing him talk about it so nonchalantly reminded me we came from two separate worlds. It was well known on campus that he hailed from money, and I’d gleaned a bit of family information from him during our short time together two years ago. But I couldn’t pretend to fathom a life where I could just go traveling the world on a whim. I’d barely made it out of West Virginia and was working hard not to land right back in my dried up coal town.

  “That sounds amazing.” It was all I could offer.

  “It was. I just wanted to tell you what I did over the summer. How was my presentation this time?” He gave me a disarming smile.

  I didn’t return it, though I silently gave him points for wit.

  He cocked his head to the side, trying another tack. “What about you? Do you still want to teach when you get out?”

  “Yes.” His question and my answer reinforced why I was spending time with him. If I could get that first-string scholarship, I would be able to teach wherever I wanted without fear of student loan bills. He was a means to an end. There was nothing more between us.

  So why did my breath hitch whenever he touched me? Why was he all I could think about when I was in class this morning? We were two different people now, and our past was murky at best. I needed to calm down and think instead of falling under his spell again. The problem was, when he looked at me with those piercing eyes, I felt like it was the first time in my life that anyone truly saw me.

  “Hey, Cordy.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “Did I say something wrong?”

  His palm was warm and engulfed mine. I didn’t pull away. I knew I shouldn’t have wanted his touch, but just the sensation of his skin against me thrilled and scared me at the same time.

  I avoided his eyes, as if I could hide from him by looking elsewhere. “No, nothing wrong. It’s just that, where I come from, we don’t have the luxury of touring the world or…” I shrugged.

  “Cordy, look at me.” His soft voice was a caress. Our gazes clicked, and heat began to rise along my neck. Could he see my blush or feel the rapid beat of my heart?

  He squeezed my fingers. “I know we have different backgrounds. I remember what you said about your family and where you’re from.” He drew his brows together, the center wrinkling. “I won’t deny that there was a time when I cared about stuff like that.” His eyes grew sad.

  Embarrassment flooded me at the thought of him looking down on me. I tried to pull my hand away, but he maintained a firm, yet soft, grip.

  “But I don’t care about it now. None of that matters, okay? I don’t care where you come from. And if where I come from bothers you, then I won’t talk about it.” He released my hand, and I pulled away from him, though it took an effort.

  He was so open with me. Or at least he seemed open. Maybe he was fooling me again. I couldn’t tell. His eyes were earnest, and his words had the ring of truth.

  Even so, something about what he’d said rattled around in my mind, and I needed to know more. “When you said you used to care about—”

  “Cheese sticks.” The server slapped a basket of bread laden with mozzarella in the center of the table. “And your pizza will be out shortly.”

  Trent and I took the plates she offered. Thunder shook the building, and rain poured outside the plate glass window along the street. I was safe and warm with Trent, about to enjoy dinner like two normal people without a past.

  He nudged the basket closer to me. “You first.”

  Cheese and bread were easily my favorite foods on the planet. He didn’t have to tell me twice. I snagged an end piece, the cheese browned and still hot from the oven.

  “Marinara?” He offered the little cup of red sauce to me.

  I blew on the cheese stick and slowly shook my head. “I would never profane cheesy bread with marinara. Not happening.”

  “A purist.” He grabbed a stick and dunked it in the sauce. “I can respect that.”

  I took a bite and forced myself not to moan around the salty deliciousness. I finished my stick in short order and followed it with a gulp of lemonade.

  “Have another.” Trent downed his beer and motioned for another from the server.

  “I shouldn’t.” I reached for the basket.

  “You should.” Trent plucked another cheese-laden piece and took a bite, his eyes focused on me. “Live a little.”

  “How could I say no to that?” I snagged the next to last piece. “I’m going to be full before the pizza even gets here.”

  As I devoured half the cheese stick, he grabbed the beer from the server and took a long draw. When he set it down, I noticed his hand shook the slightest bit.

  I placed the uneaten half of the cheese stick on my plate. “What?”

  “It’s just.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been waiting a while to tell you this.”

  I leaned back, a shock of cold flowing through my veins. “What?”

  He squared his shoulders, as if waiting for someone to land a blow. “I think I’m ready to tell you what happened two years ago.”

  For just a moment, it seemed like maybe we could pretend two years ago never happened. We could have a pizza and a few drinks without giving a thought to that night. But from the shake in his hands and the anxiety in his voice, I could tell he’d intended to clear the air all along.

  He reached across the table again and took my hand. All the noise of the restaurant faded into the backgro
und, and it was just the two of us.

  His eyes softened as he stared at me, remorse crinkling the skin next to his eyes. “I made a mis—”

  “Cordy!” Landon rushed up, his hair hanging in wet ropes and the rest of him soaked from head to toe. His gaze went to where my hand was encased by Trent’s.

  “Lan—”

  Before I could say a word, he reared back and clocked Trent hard on the jaw.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TRENT

  Two years earlier

  I SMOOTHED MY HANDS down my dress shirt for the third time since we’d gotten out of the car and into La Café Blanc.

  Cordy smiled as the server unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap for her. “I can say, without a doubt, I’ve never been somewhere this fancy in my life.”

  I stared at her, because I couldn’t seem to see anything else. Her hair cascaded over her shoulder in a chestnut wave. The lavender dress she wore cut just under her collar bones, and the rest of the material clung to the curve of her waist. Her amber eyes glimmered in the low light of the restaurant.

  “Trent?” She smiled, and my heart took off at a gallop.

  “Yes, fancy.” Good one, you moron.

  She laughed, a small, delicate sound that I wanted to put on repeat. “Have you been here before?” Her eyes roved the fine linens, black tie servers, and the expansive chandeliers and candelabras that gave the restaurant its swanky reputation.

  “A few times. Whenever my parents are in town.”

  “How often do they visit?” She smiled up at the server as he poured her water. “Thank you.”

  “Not too often, thank God. My dad’s okay, but my mom can be a holy terror.” I was putting it mildly.