“You’re not his girlfriend any longer,” Mom reminds me gently. “And you’re still mad at him, right? He probably thought you didn’t care.”
Probably. Has he already moved on? Maybe he just wanted to brag.
See Drew Callahan? I’m worth it. I’m worthy of you and your family. Your daughter. I have potential, even though you never really believed in me.
I can hear Eli say those exact words in my head, though he’d never repeat them to my father out loud.
Bet he thought it though. I know how he works. How he thinks.
I know Eli Bennett better than anyone else on this planet. But I don’t have to worry about him anymore. He’s not mine.
No matter how badly I secretly want him to be.
Thirteen
Eli
“Eli, you played a fantastic game tonight. This season you’ve been incredibly consistent. What do you credit that to?” The female reporter thrusts the microphone she’s holding into my face, wearing a pasted-on smile.
For about a second, I consider telling her the truth.
I blame it on breaking up with my girlfriend. Really helped me focus on the game instead of worrying about her pretty ass all the time.
Instead, I smile and incline my head toward hers as I say, “I’m having a good season, but it’s not all me. We’ve really come together as a team this year and we’re working well together. We’ve got a rhythm going, but uh, you know.” I chuckle, reaching behind my neck to rub it. “I don’t want to say too much or I might jinx it.”
She laughs, but it sounds fake. “Dreaming about the NFL yet, Eli?”
I hate how she keeps saying my name, like she knows me. She doesn’t. “I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself.”
“The rumors are out there saying you have an excellent chance at being an early draft pick. What do you think?”
Early? I’ve not heard that word used before. “If that happens…” I shrug. “That would be amazing.”
“So nonchalant.” She’s teasing, but damn it, I don’t want to look like an egotistical ass. Which is really saying something because most of the time, I live for this shit.
“Like I said, I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I need to stay focused on the team and finish out the season. Right?” I smile, and it’s just as fake as hers.
“Of course. Thank you for speaking with me tonight. And congratulations again on the win.” She turns to her cameraman and signals him to end it before returning her focus to me. “It wouldn’t make you look bad if you spoke about your NFL chances, you know. I could help you get more publicity.”
“It’s all good,” I tell her. “But thanks for the tip.”
I turn away from her before she can say another word, irritated. Like that chick could help me. She’s some no-count local reporter, how can she help me? If she was from ESPN, then I could at least believe her. Not that I want any ‘help’.
Help is never offered for free. They’d want something in return, and right now, I don’t want to owe anyone a damn thing.
Curling my fingers through the face guard of my helmet, I keep striding across the field, nodding and smiling at people as I pass them by. Most of them offer their congratulations. A group of girls giggles when I smile at them. A couple of girls from the cheer team approach, their expressions flirtatious, and I humor them for a few minutes, basking in their praise and accepting their invite to a party tonight.
Doubt I’ll go, but right now is not the time to discount options. I’m a free agent. I can do whatever the hell I want, with whoever I want, when I want.
Putting a little strut in my walk, I lift my chin at a cluster of people, surprised when one of them darts out toward me, waving her hand so that a man with a giant video camera follows behind her.
That’s when I notice the mic she’s holding says ESPN on it. I come to a stop, waiting for her to approach.
“Eli Bennett.” She smiles. She’s a lot more attractive than the other reporter. Her hair is long and dark, and her brown eyes sparkle as she takes me in. “Just the man I was looking for.”
I hold my arms out, my helmet still dangling. “I’m all yours.”
She laughs. “I’m sure. Have a few moments to speak with me?”
“For you? Anything,” I tell her, brimming with confidence.
She asks the same questions as the local reporter, though she’s not as pushy. The conversation flows easily, and I give credit to my team, to the coaches, to the entire Bulldog football program. This school should fucking love me come Monday morning. I’m praising them so damn much, I bet the athletic director will jizz in his pants when he sees my interview.
“You’re a real team player, aren’t you?” the reporter asks when our conversation is over.
“I try,” I say with a modest shrug. Even a year ago, I didn’t necessarily get it. I was brutal on myself, believing our games rested purely on my shoulders. Mentally beating myself up every time I screwed up, which was often. I had a shit season my junior year because of my behavior, and I was ready to give up on myself and the team.
The one person who convinced me not to was…
Ava.
She’s here tonight. I haven’t personally laid eyes on her, but Caleb warned me she was coming with her family and the girls. Jackson showed up unexpectedly right before the game, which made my fucking night. He’s half the reason I played so damn well. I wanted to look good for him.
And Ava’s the other half—I wanted to look good for her too.
I linger on the field for way too long, hoping for a glimpse of Ava or maybe even her father, but I don’t ever spot them. I finally give up and head for the locker room, where I’m welcomed with lots of shouting and cursing, Jackson leading the pack, the fucker. He’s grinning when I approach him, holding his hand up, which I clasp. Instead of giving him some complicated handshake we made up when we were still in high school, I yank him in for a hug, slapping him on the back.
“What did you think?” I ask after we quickly let go of each other.
“You were on fire tonight,” he says with a nod. “No wonder the NFL wants you.”
“They don’t want me,” I say, trying to brush it off. I played well for the scouts too, can’t forget about that.
Though I sort of did. Forget about them. I was too wrapped up in Jackson and Ava being here tonight and wanting to impress them.
“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Jackson says. “They want you. We should celebrate your win tonight.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask warily. Jackson is a partier of the highest degree. The rock-star life is perfect for him.
“There’s a party happening after the game. Watson over there invited us.” He points at one of the seniors on the defensive line. The guy is as big as a house and stronger than fuck. “His girlfriend is throwing it. I guess she’s a cheerleader?”
That must’ve been the party the other girls from the cheer team invited me to. “If lots of women are there, I’m down.”
Jackson laughs. “You looking to get laid?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I shrug, hating how the thought of being with another female, that’s not Ava, doesn’t appeal to me at all. “I want to celebrate. I’ve been on the grind all season.”
“You’ve been on the grind the last three and half years,” Jackson reminds me. “When was the last time you partied?”
“A couple nights ago,” I admit. I got shit-faced drunk that night when I found out about my NFL potential. “Paid the price with a massive hangover the next day too.”
“Well, you’re not doing shit tomorrow so let’s go for it. I’m sure the girls will join us.” Jackson pauses, his expression turning worried. “Just Ellie and the rest of the girlfriends.”
“No Ava?” I decide to be the one who says her name first. I’m guessing Jackson wouldn’t mention her for fear of upsetting me.
“I don’t think so. She can go home with her mom and dad.” He laughs.
I don’t. He sho
uldn’t make fun of her, but I don’t call him out for it. Not my place anymore.
“I don’t care if she’s there.” I shrug, trying to play it off.
“You sure about that? I hear she takes the wind out of your sails,” Jackson says. “Ellie will want to bring her.”
“Ellie can do whatever she wants.” My voice is calm.
That’s my mode tonight. Calm in the face of Ava.
“All right. Cool.” Jackson nods.
“Listen, I don’t want Ava ruining my vibe, but if I avoid her, she’ll avoid me. We’ll be fine.” I grab his shoulder and give him a light shake. “I’m on top of the world right now, J. I feel fuckin’ good. I had my best game of the season, and people want to talk to me. They keep mentioning the NFL and it’s blowing my fucking mind. I just want to bask in this for a while. That’s all I’m asking for.”
“I get it,” Jackson says with a nod. “It’s your night, bro.”
“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” I smile, but deep inside, I sort of do want to talk to Ava. Feel her out. See what she wants.
See if what she might want is…
Me.
By the time we all shower and change, it’s nearing midnight when we arrive at the party. We coordinated it so the majority of the team would arrive at the house together and the moment we walk through the door, we’re greeted by enthusiastic party-goers, most of them female. I smile and nod as they talk to me. Say thank you when one girl with huge tits brings me a beer, then bats her extra-long fake eyelashes at me.
But I’m just going through the motions. Pretending to be excited when I’m really not.
I find Diego, Caleb and Tony huddled together in the back yard and I immediately go to them, letting down my guard when I settle into a chair and we start talking about the game and who we’re playing next week.
“Where are your girlfriends?” I ask them, when there’s a lull in the conversation.
They send each other a look before they turn their focus on me.
“Around,” Caleb says vaguely.
My gaze meets Tony’s, who shrugs. They act like they’re hiding something.
Or someone.
If she’s here, I think I’d feel it. My Ava senses would be tingling. But I feel nothing at all, which is almost worse. To numb myself further, I drink more beer.
Do shots with a group in the kitchen.
Chat up a few of the newer members of the team, filling them with hope and telling them not to give up. I remember sitting on that bench the majority of my first season and I was nothing but a ball of frustration the entire time.
“It gets better,” I tell them, enjoying the way they watch me as if I can do no wrong, hanging on my every word. I remember staring at Ash Davis with the same dumbstruck look on my face. “Stick it out. If you’re good, you’ll succeed.”
I’m buzzing. Feeling high—and I didn’t even partake in the blunt a group of dudes was passing around earlier. I’m high on the attention, on the way people who are complete strangers seem to know exactly who I am. It feels good. It’s heady shit.
But real life eventually calls.
As in, I gotta take a piss.
Making my way through the house, I find the hallway where I assume the bathroom is. I spot a blonde girl leaning against a wall, her back to me. Her hair is long. Reminds me of Ava’s.
Every blonde woman I see reminds me of Ava. This is nothing new.
It’s the way she holds herself that’s familiar. My gaze drops to her ass and I know in an instant it’s my ex.
I’d recognize that ass anywhere.
A groan leaves me, louder than I intended, and she whips around, proving that yes indeed, it’s Ava. Her gaze narrows when she spots me and she drops her hands to her sides, her phone clutched in one of them.
“It’s you.” My tone is accusatory, though I knew she’d show up. I’m just being dickish about it.
“What are you doing here?” Her tone is accusatory too.
We say this at the same time.
Always friendly, aren’t we.
“I didn’t think you’d show.” I point at her.
She frowns. “Well, here I am.”
My gaze sweeps down the length of her, lingering on the best parts. “Looking pretty fine tonight, too.”
Her lips twist. “Eli.”
“What? Just statin’ facts.” I let my gaze wander yet again. “Don’t like me checking you out?”
“I’m not sure how to feel about it.” She sounds almost…amused.
And that sounds like progress.
“Why’d you come tonight?”
“Ellie wanted me to.” She stands up straighter. “She thinks I need to let loose and have fun.”
“I need the same thing,” I say, going for the bathroom when the door suddenly swings open and a guy I’ve never seen before walks out.
“Hey,” Ava yells, dashing in front of me. “I was next.”
“Gotta move faster than that, babe.” I slip into the bathroom before she can and shut the door in her face, twisting the lock extra loud. I laugh when she pounds on the door and then go handle my business, smiling when I hear her call me names through the thin wood of the door.
I really do love a pissed-off Ava. She’s fun to mess with.
Once I’m finished and I’ve washed my hands, singing “Happy Birthday” under my breath, because I know it takes a long time and I’m just trying to piss her off more, I finally go to the door and slowly open it.
She’s standing where I left her, looking furious. And gorgeous. She shoves past me and strides inside the bathroom, going straight to the sink and turning on the water.
“You just wanted to wash your hands?”
Ava lifts her head, our gazes meeting in the mirror. “So?”
“Lame,” I tell her, thinking she had to pee or whatever. “Now I’m glad I cut in front of your ass.”
“You’re rude.” She soaps up her hands and starts scrubbing them vigorously, like she’s going in for surgery.
I ignore her insult. “You like it.”
“Not really.” She rinses her hands off, her gaze still on me. “You played a good game tonight, Eli.”
I try to shrug off the pleasure filling me at her compliment, but I can’t. It feels good, that she said something.
“Thanks—why’d you come?” I shut the door when someone approaches, locking it once more.
I don’t want anyone barging in on us during what I think could be an important conversation.
“I came with my parents. They have season box tickets.” She drops her gaze, watching her hands as she continues to run them under the water. She gives a little jerk and shuts the water off, reaching for the hand towel hanging on the hook nearby.
I approach her, which means I take approximately three steps, since the bathroom is so damn small. I’m standing directly behind her, my body so close it’s almost brushing hers and I will her to look into the mirror so our reflections will meet once again. When her gaze finally lifts, I say what’s been on the tip of my tongue since she answered me.
“You didn’t come to watch me?”
Her green eyes are big, eating me up. My heart is racing. Being close to her always amps me up. More than any alcohol I can drink or any dynamic play I make out on the field. Nothing makes me feel like Ava Callahan does.
Nothing.
“Not really,” she whispers, her gaze never straying from mine.
I raise a brow. “Really?”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Yes, I came to watch you.”
My blood warms and I stand a little taller. “Knew it.”
“You’re having a terrific season.”
“You actually keep track?” I’m surprised.
“I can’t help myself. I still root for you out on that field, Eli.”
“You don’t root for me anywhere else.”
Ava’s quiet. And I know what that means. She’s trying to come up with something to say. Guess I stumped her.
&nb
sp; Always used to love it when I did that.
“I heard about the NFL thing,” she finally says, bracing her hands on the bathroom counter in front of her. “Congratulations.”
A thousand things want to fall off my tongue.
Can you fucking believe it?
I have a real chance, babe. A solid chance of being drafted.
All of my secret dreams are coming true.
I couldn’t do any of this without you.
I say none of that. What’s funny is she’s the reason why I’ve had such a fantastic season. Losing her helped me focus.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice scratchy. I clear my throat, not wanting to seem vulnerable to this girl, who could say a couple of choice words and completely devastate me.
Being in this tiny bathroom with her right now was a bad enough choice. I should probably get the hell out of here.
But I don’t. Instead, I settle my hands on her slender shoulders and she does the craziest thing.
Her eyes fall closed and she hangs her head, her hair sliding forward. She doesn’t shrug me off or tell me to stop touching her. Swear to fucking God, it feels like she leans toward me, her head swinging my way, though her neck is still bent.
She’s not looking at me. Which is good because she’d see shock and pleasure written all over my face, at the same time.
With shaky fingers, I brush the hair away from her face. Drift my fingers across her neck, my gaze snagging on her face. She presses her lips together, just before she turns around and lifts her gaze to mine, those big green eyes taking me in, telling me everything she’s feeling without her having to say a damn word.
My mind blanks and my gaze zeros in on her mouth. Those plump pink lips I still want to kiss despite everything we’ve gone through together.
Big mistake, my brain tells me. Don’t do it. Don’t do it!
Leaning in, I mentally tell my thoughts to fuck right off.
Fourteen
Ava
I realize mere seconds before his mouth finds mine that Eli is going to kiss me. And like the weak, pathetic creature I am for him, I don’t protest. I don’t tell him to stop and I don’t push him away.
The Senior (College Years Book 4) Page 11