Getting Played

by Mia Storm

  “What exactly did you do to Blaire?” I ask, getting in his face. “Because I know there was more to it than just fucking her roommate.”

  He shakes his head, but holds his ground. “Blaire has always told you everything. I was a dog. I pulled shit I shouldn’t have. If I could take it back, I would, but I don’t know why you’re all fucking hell bent on making it more that it was.”

  I glance at Brenda again and find myself fixed in a full-on scowl. She hooks her hand through Nate’s elbow. “Come on. Let’s sit at the bar.”

  He gives me one last look, then guides Brenda past me to the bar. They slide onto stools and Vicky comes over and takes their orders. At least Brenda’s got her mother watching out for her. Nate probably won’t slip anything into her drink.

  But I wouldn’t put it past him to try.

  What I know about Nate. 1) He’s a lying dirtbag. 2) He’s always had an arrogant streak a mile wide. 3) When he was dating my sister, he fucked her roommate while Blaire was sleeping ten feet away. 4) There’s more to what happened between he and Blaire than she’s told me. 5) It’s taken her years to find herself again after whatever it was.

  6) It’s my fault.

  He was my best friend. I knew how he was with girls. I should have tried harder to talk Blaire out of dating him. But things were weird between us right after Caiden went to jail. All I could see is that this older guy had taken advantage of her and she kept defending him. It pissed me off.

  I start toward the bar, my fists bunched at my sides. I let that prick fuck with my sister, but I’m not making the same mistake twice. There’s no way he’s fucking with my friends.

  Deanna grasps my arm before I get out of her reach. “Hey there, cowboy, I don’t know what you’ve got against that guy, but your friend’s a big girl. I don’t think she’s going to appreciate you riding roughshod over her date.” I shake loose from her grasp, but she steps between me and my target and presses up on her tiptoes, adding low in my ear, “You got some frustration to take out, take it out on me.”

  I glance over her shoulder to the bar. I wish I knew for sure what happened between Nate and Blaire four years ago. Right now it’s just a gut feeling that he did more to her than cheat on her. But there’s nothing I’m going to say right now that isn’t going to piss Brenda off, so I spin for the door. “Let’s go.”

  When we get to Deanna’s, a rambling farmhouse on the edge of town near Lover’s Leap, she shows me the closet behind the fireplace.

  “I wonder what they used it for,” she says, looking around the small space. It’s bare except for three empty wooden shelves attached to the far wall.

  I knock on the wall and find it’s solid cement. “Probably was built as an earthquake shelter.”

  She presses me up against the wall with her body and sends me a suggestive smile. “I think we should test it out—see if it’s really unshakeable.”

  She pulls open my jeans, and even though I’m not really into it, I’m just drunk enough that I don’t stop her when she slides her hand under the waistband of my boxer briefs and grabs my cock. She fists her other hand into the hair on the back of my head and pulls me into a kiss. It takes a minute, but my body finally starts to get with the program, my cock stiffening in her grasp. She slips off her panties under her skirt and spins us so her back is against the wall. She climbs up my body so she’s straddling my hips, and when she reaches for the shelves next to us, I realize they’re not totally empty. A condom sits on the corner of the lowest one.

  She planned this.

  I don’t know why that bothers me. It’s no secret we came back here to fuck, so why not do it in the closet behind the fireplace? But I feel myself reflexively peeling my body back from hers.

  “Listen, Deanna…” I say, grasping her wrists and lowering her hand from my body. “I’m not really feeling this right now.”

  Her eyebrows go up and she glances down at my boner. “Really?”

  I fasten my fly. “I’ve just got a lot going on right now. It’s totally no reflection on you.”

  “Okay…” she drawls, giving me a look that leaves no doubt I’m crazy and she’s pissed.

  I duck out through the passage into the living room and she follows. “I’m really sorry. Give me a rain check?”

  “A sex rain check.” She blows out a laugh. “Okay, Marcus. Earthquake shelter sex some other time.”

  I back toward the door. “Sorry,” I say again, because this is suddenly super awkward. “See you at school.”

  I open her front door and let myself out, turning for my truck. I can feel her watching me, but I don’t look back as I hop in and crank the engine.

  And, somehow, even though it’s in totally the wrong direction, I find myself driving past Addie’s house on my way home.

  Chapter 6

  Addie

  I could have stayed out of school another day or two if I’d wanted to. The doctor said it was up to me. But the alternative was staying home.

  School is the lesser of two evils.

  But the problem is that fourth key to invisibility. With my black eye and shaved head, there’s no possibility of blending in. As I make my way between periods, there’s not a single person in the hall that can resist staring for at least a second or two. And I can’t blame them. I stared at myself for an hour in the mirror when I got home from the hospital.

  By the end of the day, my head feels like one of those rotten pumpkins you see smashed in the road the morning after Halloween, and I think about just skipping what I have to do next. But it’s more than just courtesy that has me trekking through the gym to the pool.

  I’m dreading facing Marcus, but there’s no danger of a repeat of our afternoon on the park bench—all the electricity that crackled between us that day. Between my meltdown my first night in the hospital, and then everything with my father on Friday night, I’m sure he thinks I’m a nut job.

  My feet stall as I’m crossing toward the pool cage. Maybe I should let him think that. Maybe if I leave it alone and just never set foot near the pool again, I won’t have to try to figure out why my brain scrambles when I’m around Marcus. He probably wouldn’t even miss me.

  But I owe him at least an explanation. After all, he got me to the hospital before I bled to death. He brought my father home and spared me the humiliation of having to retrieve him. Again.

  When I step through the gate, a few of my teammates are already disappearing into the locker room. I walk over to where Marcus is standing near the double row of bleachers at the opening to the storage room. His upper body is bare and his loose, low-slung swim trunks are dripping as he towels off.

  “Coach,” I say, forcing my eyes from his abs to his face before my finger shoots out of its own volition and starts to trace his packs.

  He glances up at my voice, and all it takes is his eyes connecting with mine to set off the wildfire in my veins that I felt last night when he touched me.

  “Nice,” he says, his finger tracing a line under his own eye, indicating my shiner. “Didn’t get a great look at it last night, but it’s a good look on you.”

  “Been telling everyone you gave it to me,” I say with a smirk. Truth is, I haven’t told anyone anything. Everyone’s stared, but no one’s asked.

  He laughs out loud and the way his eyes light with mischief tells me my questionable sense of humor isn’t lost on him. It also sends an unexpected zing down my spine. As does the way his pecs and biceps flex as he reaches for his T-shirt and pulls it over his head. I don’t know how it’s possible, but every time I see him, he seems to have gotten exponentially hotter. “Are you trying to get me fired? Or arrested?”

  “Let the chips fall,” I say with a dismissive flip of my hand.

  The humor slowly bleeds out of his expression. “So your dad was okay on Friday?”

  I try not to cringe. “I was hoping you’d forgotten that whole thing.”

  His eyes soften and his gaze sinks a few layers deeper into mine. “If that’s what
you want, I will.”

  “Sorry, it’s just…” I break his gaze and shake my head at my inability to form a complete thought. “Thanks for what you did. You saved me a huge headache. Literally.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” he says with a shrug of one shoulder, as if it’s no big deal.

  I shift on my feet, not sure what to make of that. “We’re friends?”

  He cocks his head as he thinks about his answer. “Yeah…I think we are. If you’re okay with that.”

  Maybe I’m reading too much into this. I wasn’t friends with my coach at Roosevelt, but maybe it’s not all that unusual.

  I hold out my hand to shake. “Friends.”

  He takes it, giving me a firm shake, and when cold heat shoots down my spine and settles between my legs, I realize that, as on board as my brain might be with this friends thing, my body has other ideas.

  “Anyway,” I say, drawing my hand back, “I just came by to tell you I’m quitting the team. I’m not going to get a medical release to play for at least two more weeks. By that time league will have started.”

  His expression grows serious and a crease forms between his brows. “I’m not going to let you quit right now, Addie. Let’s just wait until the doctor clears you, then we’ll see where we are and whatever you choose, I’ll respect your decision.”

  My eyebrows lift automatically and the motion pulls on my stitches. “Corinne and the others will flip if I don’t show to practice for two weeks and you give me a spot in the pool.”

  He props his shoulder against the doorframe, a cocky grin pulling at his lips.“Well, then…I guess you better show.”

  I reach behind me and pull myself up to sit on the top bleacher before that smile knocks me on my ass. “Listen, I get what you’re trying to do. Really. And I appreciate it. But…” I lower my gaze, not wanting him to see me cringe as I say, “I’ve been thinking about getting a job after school.”

  “Let me help.”

  I lift my eyes and find a chagrinned look on Marcus’s face. “And what, exactly, is it that you think I need help with?”

  His expression clears and he gives his head a small shake. “Just don’t quit until you have to, okay? Give me that much, at least.”

  “So you want me to…what?” I flip my hand at the bleachers. “Just sit here while everyone else is practicing?”

  He nods slowly. “If there’s something you can help with, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, you can work on homework or whatever.”

  I should say no. I really do need to find a job. But the chances anyone’s going to hire me looking like this aren’t good. And the chances I’ll look anything close to normal before the doctor clears me for water polo also aren’t good. So I find myself nodding.

  “Fine, I’ll wait to decide,” I say, “but don’t expect me to change my mind.”

  The hint of a smile quirks one side of his mouth. “We’ll see.”

  The walk home from school is peaceful…unlike what I’m afraid awaits me when I get there. Dad was asleep when I left this morning. I didn’t even tell him I was going back to school today. He’s been grumbling about suing the school and sending me to Summerlyn High instead.

  But just as I’m rounding the corner, I see Aunt Becky’s car pull into the garage. And the driveway’s empty, so Dad’s out.

  “Oh my God!” she cries as she jumps out and comes jogging toward me. “I called the house today to check on your dad and he told me you’d been in the hospital. I was in San Francisco so I came straight home.”

  “You shouldn’t have. I’m fine,” I tell her, lowering my gaze as my heart cramps. Today her shoulder-length blond curls are twisted onto the top of her head, just like Mom used to wear hers.

  She lifts my chin to inspect the damage. “What happened? Your dad was vague and kept muttering something about a pervert.”

  I roll my eyes. “I fell at school and hit my head.”

  “So…you weren’t attacked or…” She trails off and pulls me into a hug. “God, I was so worried.”

  “You know Dad,” I say into her shoulder. “He’s delusional.”

  She pulls back and looks me over again. “Come on,” she says, hooking her arm around my waist and tugging me toward the house.

  “Are you staying?” I ask.

  She nods as she pops the trunk of her car. “Just overnight, since it looks like everything’s okay.” She looks at me as she yanks her suitcase out. “Everything is okay, right?”

  I nod.

  She smiles and starts toward the door. “I’ve got appointments in San Jose tomorrow afternoon, but this gives me a chance to do some laundry.” She glances at the overgrown lawn on the way to the door. “Guess I’m going to have to keep Gary coming after all.”

  I instantly feel guilty. Part of Dad’s arrangement with Aunt Becky when we moved in was that, in addition to going on as many job interviews as possible, he’d take care of the yard and do some of her basic maintenance to earn our keep. Other than the interview he almost missed the morning I hit my head, it hasn’t happened. If anything, he’s started drinking more. I’d intended to deal with the yard before Becky came home.

  It’s only when we step into the empty house that Becky registers that the car is gone. “Your father’s out?”

  “Looks like it,” I say, trying to make like me coming home to an empty house isn’t an everyday occurrence.

  “On an interview?

  “Maybe,” I say. For all I know, it’s true.

  “Has he had many interviews?”

  I give an optimistic nod. One of those bright-eyed small springy ones. “And he’s on that online job site looking a lot.”

  Her lips purse as she watches me lie and I suddenly hate myself for never developing a poker face. “Have you eaten?” she asks after an endless minute.

  “No,” I say, feeling guilty again that there’s nothing in the house to make.

  “How about I treat you to dinner out?”

  “Okay,” I say.

  She takes a minute to freshen up, then we head to the car. There are a few choices in town for dinner, so it never occurs to me we’re going to Sam Hill until she pulls up to the curb in front.

  “I’d rather go to Mindy’s,” I say, frozen in my seat as she starts to get out.

  She looks at me, then scans the cars parked in the street. And spots Dad’s. “How often is he here?” she asks, turning back to me.

  I sigh. “A lot.” There’s no sense lying. Vicky, the owner, told me she’s friends with my aunt one night when I was here hauling Dad home. I’m surprised Vicky hasn’t called Becky already.

  “I’m dying for a burger,” she says, then steps out of the car and closes the door.

  So I guess that’s settled.

  I follow her into the bar and Dad’s at his normal barstool. Vicky sees Aunt Becky and comes around the end of the bar.

  “When did you get back to town?” she asks, pulling Becky into a hug.

  “Just now.” Her eyes go to Dad. “Is everything okay?”

  “Not really.” Vicky’s gaze flicks to me then back to Becky. “But I thought your niece might have given you the lowdown.”

  Becky takes a deep breath, then squeezes Vicky’s arm. “I’ll talk to him.”

  She moves to the bar and Vicky and I follow. Vicky finds her place behind the mahogany slab, and Becky slips onto the stool to Dad’s right.

  “Hello, Bruce.”

  Dad looks up at Becky, then his gaze flashes to me, over her shoulder, and narrows slightly. “Didn’t expect you home for another couple of weeks,” he says, turning back to the bar. His words are just a little loose, not all the way to slurring yet.

  “You weren’t clear on what happened to Addie. I needed to check and see she was okay.”

  “She’s fine,” he says, turning back to the bar.

  “Come sit with us. We’re getting dinner,” she says, hooking a hand through his elbow and coaxing him from the stool.

  Dad shakes her han
d off. “I’m good here.”

  “Bruce,” she says in warning. “Please.”

  He swipes his drink off the bar and plants himself in a chair at a table near the door. “Satisfied?”

  Becky looks at him for a long second, then sighs wearily.

  “You need menus?” Vicky asks as Becky and I settle into seats at Dad’s table.

  “You like burgers?” Becky asks me.

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “We’ll have three burgers with the works,” she tells Vicky.

  Vicky disappears through the door to the kitchen at the back of the bar with our order.

  “So…how’s school?” Becky asks me.

  I shrug. “I was out for a few days, so I’ve got a lot to make up.”

  “Your teachers are giving you some time, I hope?”

  I nod. “I’ll get it done.”

  “You’ve always been a good student,” she says, then glances at Dad, who’s nursing his drink. “Hasn’t she, Bruce?”

  He looks over the top of his glass at me and nods.

  “You should be proud she stays so focused,” Becky pushes.

  “She’s a good student,” he repeats lowering his eyes to the table.

  The waitress, who’s so pregnant she looks like she’s ready to pop, comes over to the table and takes Becky’s and my drink orders. Dad polishes off his drink, but she doesn’t offer to bring him a refill.

  “Are you making any friends?” Becky asks me once she’s gone.

  I shrug. “A few.” If you count coaches and librarians.

  “Good,” she says. “I know it’s hard to relocate your senior year, but Oak Crest is a pretty hospitable place. I hope the kids your age are making you feel welcome.”

  “They’re fine,” I say. In truth, I probably could have made friends by now if I were interested. Most of my classmates seem pretty laid back.

  “Good,” she says, then turns to Dad. “So tell me about the job search, Bruce. Any new leads?”

  The waitress comes back with our drinks, and Dad hands her his glass. “Scotch, neat,” he says, totally ignoring Becky.

  And it occurs to me, other than when she surprised him at the bar, he hasn’t looked at her once. When Mom was alive and Becky would come visit, I always remember Dad and Becky getting along, talking and laughing, but since we moved here, it’s been as strained as a rubber band ready to snap. Maybe he has the same issue I do with Becky. She looks so much like Mom, sometimes it hurts to look at her.