“Uhhh…”
I frown.
Something about Eli’s voice sounds all wrong. Like, terribly wrong.
“We probably…”
I pull away from him slightly to see his face.
He won’t even look at me.
My heart drops.
“We probably what?” I ask quietly.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have done that?” His gaze finds mine, and he winces.
The motherfucker actually winces.
I pull off of him, ignoring the sensation of semen spilling down my thighs. Ignoring the sympathetic look on his face. Immediately wishing I could forget this entire encounter. If I could punch him, I would.
I would! Right in that smug, beautiful face of his.
“You’re a dick,” I say through clenched teeth as I reach for anything I can pull on to cover myself. I feel naked. Vulnerable. Shaky.
Should’ve known this was going to happen.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
Ignoring him, I stumble upon his hoodie first, so guess what?
I steal it, yanking it over my head, grateful it covers most of my body, it’s so large. Smells just like him too, which is distracting and annoying.
“Come on, Ava. You have to admit what just happened was pretty—impulsive. And we’re not even together anymore.”
I stare at him, incredulous. I thought this was our shot to get back together. He’s the one who asked me to leave with him. I believed he was going to apologize and we could’ve continued on. A couple once again. Eli and Ava.
Ava and Eli.
“You were never going to apologize, were you?” I ask, my voice deadly quiet.
He should be careful right now. How he answers could make everything worse, or better.
“Apologize for what?” he asks with a frown.
A sigh leaves me. Eli is never careful. That’s what I both love and hate about him.
I’m such an idiot. Seriously. He probably just used me for sex. That’s it. He doesn’t want to be with me.
Not really.
“I’m wasting my time.” I spot my phone lying on the floorboard and snatch it up. Find my Vans and slip them on my feet. Forget the socks and my jeans and my sweater and the bra. Though I do wish I had my underwear, at least. “Where are my panties?”
He glances around, still sitting there naked, his cock at half mast, like he could be raring to go again in a few minutes. The guy always had terrific stamina. “I don’t know.”
“Last time I saw them you were sniffing them.” My voice drips with disgust. It’s my turn to grimace as I scan the car one last time. “Forget it. I don’t need them. I’m out.”
“Ava.” He grabs my hand just as I go to open the back door and I turn to glare at him and his stupid pleading face. “Don’t leave. Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to say. You think what just happened was a mistake.” Heavy emphasis on the last word out of my mouth.
“You’re the one who said that first,” he reminds me.
“Well, clearly you agree,” I retort, hating that he threw my own words back in my face. I guess it’s what I deserve.
“Hear me out.” His fingers tighten. “You can’t go outside like that. You don’t have any clothes on. Let me drive you home. We can talk on the way.”
“No. There’s nothing left to say. Besides, I have this.” I jerk out of his hold and tug on the hem of his hoodie. “It’s the least you could give me after such a shitty night.”
I open the door, the blast of cool air coming in making me shiver. I climb out of the car and slam the door before he can say or do anything else. Though I don’t know what he could do, considering he’s buck naked.
A cackle leaves me and I can’t help it. I’m laughing as I launch into a jog, the air whooshing straight up the oversized hoodie, extra cold on all my damp parts. I run toward the house where the party is still happening, reaching inside the hoodie’s front pocket to pull my phone out. Pausing, I type out a quick text and shove my phone back into the pocket before I hurry toward the house, the laughter long dying on my lips.
When I feel the wetness dripping down my face, I realize I’m crying. The tears are flowing nonstop, extra cold thanks to the wind. A sob escapes my mouth and I press my hand to it, throwing my head back and squeezing my eyes shut.
Squeezing out a few more tears too.
I hear someone say my name. A female someone. I don’t move, a gasp leaving me when I feel a set of arms wrap around me. Then another. And another. It’s as if I’m being gently tackled on all sides.
It’s my friends, and they’ve formed a circle around me. I can’t tell who’s who at first but when I finally open my eyes, I see each of their faces. The concern etched in them.
“What did that asshole do?” Ellie asks, her voice the fiercest I’ve ever heard it.
I shake my head, unable to find any words.
A collective disappointed sigh leaves the group and I hiccup a sob, so grateful for these women.
I need them now more than ever.
Seventeen
Eli
The moment the ball is hiked to me, I’m looking everywhere. Left. Right. Left again. None of my receivers are open. And defense is running toward me, feral expressions on their faces as they draw closer.
I panic in my hurry to get rid of the ball.
“Fuck,” I bite out, throwing the ball too wide. It lands in Caleb’s hands as if that was meant to happen.
The problem is he’s currently playing on the defensive side while we practice. Someone knocks into him, taking him to the ground, but I can hear his laughter. Hate how he pops back onto his feet as if it’s no big deal.
“That was shit, Bennett,” he calls, the smile on his face way too big. “I just intercepted your ass.”
“Again,” someone else pipes up.
I give the whole lot of them the finger, disgusted with them.
Disgusted with myself most of all.
Despite it being the end of October, we’re experiencing a weird, yet not so weird heatwave this week. California weather is so freaking unpredictable, and the high today was predicted to be ninety degrees. With the way I’m currently sweating, I don’t doubt that temp at all.
It’s a couple days before Halloween for the love of God. This is all kinds of fucked up.
What else is fucked up? My throwing arm today. I can’t get it right. After being on top of my game all season, throughout every practice and game, I’m playing terrible. Like some sort of fumbling rookie who’s terrified of his own shadow.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep well over the weekend.
Or maybe it’s because I spent most of Sunday afternoon working on a fucking paper that was due today.
I try not to let myself think about Ava or the fact that we had sex for the first time in months, and how great it was…
Until it wasn’t.
I haven’t had sex with freaking anyone since that last weekend in February we were together, and I’ve been playing great ever since.
Is sex ruining me? Is sex with Ava the issue?
I shove that crazy thought out of my head as I stride off the field, ignoring my team’s razzing and insults. I know they don’t really mean it. They’re just giving me shit.
But their words ring in my head and make everything worse, swear to God. I can’t let them get to me. Even more, I can’t let them know they’re getting to me. Then they’ll never let up.
“You all right?”
I turn to find Diego approaching me, his expression concerned.
“I’m great,” I grit out before I whip my helmet off and drop it on the ground. I really want to throw it down the sidelines, but the coaches don’t approve of violent outbursts. If they let it happen during practice, we’re more likely to do it during games and we could get in trouble.
“Really?” Diego scratches his chin. “You’re kind of a mess today.”
“No shit?” I send him a wide-ey
ed look. “More like I suck complete ass.”
“Something bugging you?”
It’s his tone. The way he’s looking at me. I get the sense Diego knows exactly what’s bugging me. Not that I’m going to mention it to him. Not out here during practice.
After Ava fled the back seat of my car Saturday night in just my hoodie, I sat there for a few minutes, naked and stunned. Then I pulled on my clothes, jumped into the driver’s seat and got the hell out of there before anyone came out to find me. Ended up lying awake in my bed for hours after I got home, reliving the moment with Ava. How good it felt with her, how fucking right we are together.
How I freaked out immediately after it happened, afraid she might be full of regret once she realized what we did, and how I decided in a millisecond to beat her to the punch. She’s the one who told me it was probably a mistake, and that word kept repeating in my head, over and over again. Even while I was fucking her.
That’s why I said all that bullshit about how we shouldn’t have done it. Was it a dick move?
Hell yes, but I’ve been known for making dick moves here and there. It shouldn’t have surprised her.
But it hurt her. More than I thought it would. Worse, it made her mad. Really mad.
What I said ruined any progress we might’ve made before that. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. That’s why I wrote a shit paper. That’s why I can’t throw a ball to save my life today. I fucked up and I know it, and I don’t know how to fix it.
Haven’t mentioned shit to the guys either, but I’m thinking Diego knows what’s up. Which means all those dickheads know what’s up. And they probably think I’m a giant prick, thanks to their girlfriends calling me every name in the book.
I suppose I deserve the name-calling. The hate and the wrath. I’m an insensitive asshole. It’s like I can’t help myself.
“I’m sure you already know what it is,” I say to Diego, annoyed when one of the coaches calls a water break.
That means I have to talk to Diego even longer. With my luck, Tony and Caleb might join us. Sounds like a good time.
Not.
“Jocelyn mentioned something to me, but she didn’t go in to too much detail,” Diego says.
I turn to see Caleb making his way toward us. “Gracie told me that you fucked Ava in the back seat of your car and then told her it was a mistake.”
I scowl. “Say it louder. I don’t think the entire team heard you.”
Caleb grins, the fucker. “I could scream it if you really wanted me to.” He cups his hands around his mouth, like he’s actually going to do what he just said, but Diego smacks one of his arms down. “Ow. I was just fuckin’ with him.”
“I don’t think he’s in the mood to be fucked with,” Diego says, his expression serious. “Unless it’s with Ava.”
The devilish smirk that curves his lips reminds me of the Diego of old. When he was a real asshole and no one liked him. Not even his best friend, Jake.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap at him.
Caleb sends Diego a look. “Yeah, bro. Show some respect.”
“Says the dick who can’t keep his mouth shut,” I mutter, my anger now focused on Caleb. “How about we don’t talk about her at all?”
“How about you figure out what your problem is, and why you’re playing so shitty?” Caleb throws back at me, Diego nodding in agreement. “That girl walks back into your life and throws you completely off balance.”
Caleb’s not wrong, as much as I hate to admit it. I’m really starting to think the problem is…
Ava.
Which is stupid, I know it is. I need to get my shit together and stop making excuses.
Tony approaches us, his expression thunderous. “Leave him alone. Seriously, you two assholes need to take a hike.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and like a pair of kids who just got busted, Caleb and Diego stomp off, sending matching, sullen glares in my direction as they glance over their shoulders.
“Please tell me you’re not going to rip into me,” I say, hating how whiny I sound, but shit. I don’t think I can take a lecture right now.
“I’m not.” Tony’s voice is firm, but there’s genuine concern in his gaze. Doesn’t seem like he’s here to give me a bunch of shit. “You seem to be struggling.”
“You don’t need to sugarcoat whatever you have to say. I’m sure Hayden filled you in on what happened between Ava and me Saturday night.” I throw it right out there so neither of us has to pretend.
Tony winces. “She mentioned a few things. Didn’t go into too many details.”
“You don’t know about that mole at the base of my dick then?” I squint at him, mentally daring him to keep a straight face.
Tony’s always been a tough nut to crack. He doesn’t so much as offer up a smile. “I don’t know those intimate details, no.”
“Whew.” I mock wipe sweat off my forehead. “Thank God.”
“Listen, you can act like this is a big joke to those other assholes, but I can see you’re hurting. You don’t have to pretend with me,” Tony says, taking a step closer. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye in the past, and we’ve never been that particularly close compared to the other guys, but I’m worried about you. And I care a lot about Ava. I’ve known her a long time.”
“I’m worried about her too,” I admit, my voice lowering. “I fucked it up royally with her Saturday night. That was the last thing I meant to do.”
“When you left the party with her, what was your plan?” Tony asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug, defensive. “Get her back to my place and get her naked?”
Tony doesn’t say a word. Just crosses his arms and waits me out.
It’s unnerving.
“I had no plan,” I admit, throwing my hands in the air. “I didn’t know what I was going to say or do. I was just fucking thrilled she left with me.”
“She wanted an apology.”
“Still? I thought we were past that.” And why didn’t she say so?
“Are you?” Tony arches a brow.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am past it. Even though she didn’t choose me. No one ever chooses me,” I say, frustration making my voice raspy.
Or maybe that’s emotion. I don’t know.
A whistle blows. Back to practice we go.
“We’re not finished with this conversation,” Tony says, once I grab my helmet and we’re jogging back out onto the field. “Let’s go grab a beer somewhere after practice. Or dinner. We can talk some more.”
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath.
Blah blah blah. He’ll want to talk about our feelings—excuse me, my feelings. Tony shouldn’t get a business degree. He should become a damn therapist. This guy is always trying to fix everyone.
Maybe that’s why I’ve kept my distance from him. I don’t dislike Tony. He’s a stand-up guy. Great football player. Solid friend, though he’s right. We’ve never been particularly close. Out on the field and with the team, he’s got my back and I’ve got his. But those probing dark eyes of his sort of freak me out, and I’m not looking for a confessional.
I can deal with my own fucking problems, thank you very much.
The rest of practice goes by in a blur. I continue to play terribly. To the point Coach pulls me off the field and puts in the second string. “Just to see what he’s got,” Coach tells me, his tone reassuring.
Marshall Hatfield has a tremendous arm, and he shows it off like any second string would when offered the chance to step up. The guy throws an eighty-yard pass on his first play. Everyone claps and whistles.
I sit on the bench like a pouty baby, scowling as I kick my helmet. Hating the world.
Tony just shakes his head every time he glances in my direction. Diego and Caleb steadily ignore me. I think I scared them.
Good. They’re supposed to be my friends. And friends aren’t supposed to make you feel shitty.
By the time we’re long finished with practice and we’re done
showering, Tony approaches me, his damp hair hanging across his forehead and practically covering those all-knowing eyes of his.
“You ready?”
I shut my locker door before turning to face him. “Where are we going?”
“Pizza? Doghouse? I don’t care.” Tony shrugs. “I’ll drive if you want.”
“How about I follow you.”
We decide on pizza—Doghouse Grill will just bring us unwanted attention since so many Fresno State students go there, especially on me. And I’m not saying that to brag. Everyone knows my face in this area, if not the whole damn town, and people will approach me. Ask questions about the team, the season, my future prospects. It’s happened before, and usually I revel in it.
I’d rather be anonymous tonight. And I think Tony senses that.
Once we arrive at the restaurant, we walk in together and I’m glad to see it’s mostly empty. We give our order, splitting a pitcher of beer, and once Tony pays—what a guy—we make our way over to a table in the farthest, darkest corner of the place. Tony sets the pitcher carefully onto the table while I plunk down the glasses.
“Hatfield looked pretty amazing out there,” Tony says, after we sit down and he starts pouring me a glass of beer.
Great way to start the conversation. Like rubbing salt in an open wound.
“He’ll do great next season,” I say as casually as I can.
“It’s okay to have an off-day.” Tony pushes the full mug of beer toward me. “You’re allowed one every once in a while.”
“I can’t afford them.” I take a drink of beer and slurp up nothing but foam, grimacing.
“You put too much pressure on yourself.”
He’s just preaching to the choir.
“Everyone’s looking at me right now. Just waiting for me to fuck up. Then they can point their fingers and say, ‘See, I told you so. He’s a fluke.’” I shake my head. “I know how the so-called fans think.”
“You are so bitter today,” Tony marvels. “I prefer egotistical Eli to everyone hates me, I want to die Eli.”
“Trust me, I prefer that version of myself too,” I mutter.
“You two need to just talk it out.” When I send him a questioning look, he continues, “Ava. You need to talk to her.”
The Senior (College Years Book 4) Page 14