The Senior (College Years Book 4)

by Monica Murphy

  Ryan pauses, glancing over his shoulder. “What did you just say?”

  “Do you really appreciate me coming here?” I follow after him, dying to hear his answer. “Because you don’t seem like you’re happy with me showing up at all. You haven’t spoken to Eli today?”

  “I came straight here after I got the call from the hospital last night. I’ve been driving ever since.” He turns to face me, resting his hands on his hips. He reminds me of Eli, though I can’t help but think my boyfriend is way cuter. Of course, Ryan also looks super tired with the dark bags under his eyes, but he is undeniably handsome. And right now, I can tell he’s irritated with me.

  Well, that’s great. I’m irritated with him too.

  “And you didn’t call your brother,” I say as I catch up with him.

  He sends me an irritated look. “No, I haven’t. Why would I?”

  “Why wouldn’t you?” I ask incredulously. “You knew he came to the hospital last night. Don’t you think you should’ve checked in with him and see what he had to say?”

  He comes to a stop right before her room, glaring at me. “He’s not even here this morning.”

  “He has a game to get ready for,” I return, crossing my arms.

  “Football is more important to him than our mother. Noted.” He nods once, his expression flat as he starts for the door.

  I step in front of him, getting in his way. “That’s not true. You have no idea what’s going on in his life, or what he needs to do. He was perfectly willing to not play today and come pick up your mother, but I told him I would take care of it. If he’d known you were coming, he wouldn’t have to worry at all, but you can’t even bother to send him a quick text to let him know what’s going on.”

  Ryan says nothing and I shake my head, letting my frustration pour out.

  “I don’t understand any of you. Seriously.” I step closer, lowering my voice. “Your mother has a drinking problem, and Eli doesn’t know how to fix it. She keeps playing it off like there’s nothing wrong, and he doesn’t know what to do. He needs your help. Your support. But you’re too busy doing whatever it is you’re doing, while you run away from your family and your problems.”

  “You don’t know what my problems are,” he accuses, his brows furrowing.

  “No, of course I don’t because you don’t talk to anyone. You don’t tell anyone shit. You just let it build up and it resides right there.” I poke at his chest with my index finger. “Weighing on your heart. You can’t run away from your problems, Ryan. They’re always there, sitting on your heart, reminding you of how much you’ve messed up your life.”

  He glares at me, absently rubbing his chest. “Eli has mentioned you’ve got a mouth on you.”

  “I don’t hold back,” I say proudly. “Now I’m going to go in there so I can say hi to your mother, but it’s on you to get her home. Step up and actually help out for once. That woman needs you. So does your brother.”

  I huff out a breath and turn on my heel, walking straight into the room and hitting their mother with a bright smile when our gazes connect.

  “Good morning,” I say as I approach the side of her bed. Her face is more bruised this morning and she looks tired. “How are you feeling?”

  “Beat up,” she says with a small smile. “The nurses warned it would hurt more the morning after, and they were right. I ache everywhere.”

  Reaching out, I gently pat her arm, grateful she doesn’t wince when I touch her. The last thing I want to do is hurt her. “Are they ready to release you?”

  “Yes, soon.” She frowns. “Where’s Eli? I thought I heard him outside?”

  “I volunteered to come get you,” I say. “But I just ran into—”

  “Mom.” Ryan strides into the room with a giant smile on his face and an equally giant bouquet of pink roses in his arms. “Are you all right?”

  Where the hell did those come from?

  He practically shoves me out of the way to get to his mother’s bedside, and I step back, letting them have their moment.

  Still lingering around though, so I can watch this show unfold.

  “Oh, Ryan, you came!” He sets the roses on a nearby table before he bends over her and wraps her in a careful hug, all while she gushes. “I was so hoping you would be here, and that you would be the one who picked me up. I’ve missed you so much.”

  Okay maybe I don’t want to watch this. I’ll just get irritated and feel insulted on my boyfriend’s behalf.

  Can I think that? That Eli is my boyfriend once again?

  I’m going with yes.

  “Looks like you’ve got this covered,” I tell Ryan.

  They both swivel their heads in my direction, as if they forgot I was even there.

  “I’ll take her home,” he says, going into authoritative, oldest child mode. I recognize it well, thanks to my sister pulling that on us all the time, especially when we were younger. “But thanks for coming.”

  And then they start speaking in low tones, his mother launching into an explanation of what happened last night. I can already tell she’s trying to downplay the drinking and the severity of the accident. Does he know about the police involvement? How they want to arrest her for DUI?

  I flee the room before the irritation becomes unbearable.

  Guess I’ll let him figure all that out on his own.

  Twenty-Five

  Eli

  I’m distracted again. Playing for shit on the worst possible day.

  Game day.

  And an important one too—but aren’t they all important?

  I can’t have this happen. Not here, not now. I’m having total flashbacks to last season, when every little thing would take me down and I would make mistake after mistake. To the point that it became ultra-obvious to everyone, including the spectators and the other teams and worst of all, the media, that I was turning into a shit quarterback who allowed his emotions to rule him.

  That was almost a direct quote by some local reporter who gleefully did his best to knock me off my pedestal. The asshole.

  It’s the beginning of the third quarter and I couldn’t manage to score when we had the ball, so now I’m leaving the field, disgusted with myself, knowing I’m the sole reason why we’re playing so shitty.

  “Hey! Bennett!”

  I turn as we’re almost off the field, watching as Tony approaches me, his dark eyes locked on me as he draws nearer. “What?” I ask wearily.

  We come to a stop on the sideline, in front of the bench. The defense is shuffling past us, jogging out onto the field for their turn, including Caleb who watches us as he runs past.

  I ignore him, concentrating on Tony, praying he isn’t going to give me a bunch of shit.

  “Don’t let it all get in your head.” He thwacks his fingers against the side of my helmet. “You’re living in there right now when you need to be out on this field.”

  He’s right. I know he’s right. But I can’t help but be distracted. I’m worried about my mom. Her problem hangs over me like a dark cloud, because she needs help, yet she’s in full denial. It’s hard to help someone who believes they’ve got everything under control.

  And I don’t have time for her. I mean, I’ll make time. I have to. She’s my mom, after all. But I’ve got school and football and homework and Ava and I don’t know how I’m going to manage it all.

  Then there’s the sex thing. As in, Ava and I did it last night. Early this morning. In the shower. It was amazing. Better than it’s ever been between us. She’s so responsive and extra bold and I’m fucking digging it.

  But…the sex thing seems to mess with my playing abilities, which sounds like a bunch of shit. Yet here I am, fucking up out on the field. I threw an interception in the second quarter, which about sent me to my knees.

  My coaches’ glares on the sidelines were the only thing keeping me from falling completely apart. That and they didn’t turn it into a touchdown. Just a field goal, but still. They’re up by ten, and I hope t
o God we can pull out the win.

  “Yeah, I know,” I say to Tony, my voice clipped. Truth hurts and all that. “I need to focus.”

  “Focus on the game. Don’t let your Ava issues distract you.” Tony slaps the back of my helmet as we make our way to the bench, both of us collapsing onto it, sitting right next to each other.

  He has no clue what’s really going on. Ava and I are in a good place—I think. We should be, considering how much we were all over each other last night and this morning. When she’d given me the blow job after I got off the phone, damn. She was sexy as fuck, turning those big eyes up to me with her mouth full of my dick.

  A shudder moves through me and I force it away. I can’t get distracted. I need to focus, like Tony said.

  “What’s your problem?” Diego comes out of nowhere, standing in front of me with his index finger doing that aggressive pointing thing that’s usually my schtick. “You’re playing for shit.”

  “Diego,” Tony starts, but Diego whirls on him, his expression fierce.

  “What? You know it’s true. He’s distracted or some shit. I thought halftime would help clear his head. That little speech was a rouser.” Diego sends me a disgusted look.

  Coach Harris went off on us during halftime in the locker room, and while I agreed with everything he said and wanted to get back out here in full ass-kicking mode, I still couldn’t manage to score a touchdown, thanks to my terrible accuracy.

  “I’m trying,” I tell him. “And I don’t need your shit coming at me right now. You’re not what I would call motivating.”

  “And you’re not what I would call NFL material, but I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” Diego retorts.

  I leap to my feet and shove at his chest, blind anger taking over me. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

  He thrusts his face in mine, his dark eyes blazing with anger. “Touch me again and I’ll fucking kick your ass.”

  “I’d love to see you try,” I throw back at him, our faces so close I can actually feel his breath.

  “Guys, come on. Knock this shit off,” Tony says, glancing over his shoulder.

  I look in the same direction Tony is, realizing the coaching staff is watching me. Us. Coach Harris marches right up to me, his expression fierce. “You’re benched.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “For the rest of the quarter.”

  I gape at him. “What the hell? Are you serious?”

  “Deadly serious. And if you keep arguing with me, I’m benching you for the rest of the game. I’ll let Marshall prove to us what he’s got.” Coach strides away, not even waiting for me to answer.

  I flop back into the space I vacated, not even a few minutes ago, my mouth tight, my thoughts turbulent. Fucking Diego.

  I’m to blame just as much as he is, though he is the prick who started it.

  I’m tempted to say something, about to go in search of Coach when Tony grabs my sleeve, keeping me from leaving. “Don’t bother.”

  “Don’t bother what?”

  “Doing whatever you’re thinking of doing. Don’t go defend yourself or cause more shit with Diego. He’s under enormous pressure right now, just like you are.”

  I didn’t even think of that. He’s actually under just as much pressure as I am. Maybe even more because he’s got a family to take care of and nothing to fall back on. Me? At least I have fairly wealthy parents who can bail me out of pretty much any situation.

  Diego doesn’t have that luxury.

  “Whatever.” I slump against the bench, my legs spread, my shoulders hunched—as much as they can be hunched in all the pads and protective gear. “This is some bullshit.”

  “Give yourself a break,” Tony says. “Use the rest of the quarter to clear your thoughts and focus on the game. The only person you’re damaging right now is you.”

  “And the rest of the team,” I remind him.

  “We’re good, bro. Marshall Hatfield is going out there and he’s going to annihilate them. I can almost guarantee it. That kid is fierce.” Tony shakes his head. “But don’t worry. He doesn’t have your polish and expertise. He’s a little messy still. But he can get us through the third quarter.”

  Tony gets up and saunters off, and I watch him go, his words on repeat in my head.

  Polish and expertise. Polish and expertise.

  The more I think about those two words, the better I feel. Tony’s right. I have polish and expertise. I’ve been doing this for a long time. I lead this team. They look up to me.

  I need to be an example, not an out-of-control asshole.

  “Hey D,” I yell, when I spot Diego standing nearby only a few minutes later.

  “What?” His jaw clenches and his eyes are still ablaze as he glares at me.

  “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to unleash on you,” I tell him, my voice dripping with sincerity.

  He walks over to the bench, stopping directly in front of me. “I’m sorry too. The pressure has been weighing on me and it’s been—tough.”

  “I get it.” If any two players on this team right now can understand each other, it’s us. I stand up and offer him my hand. “We good?”

  Diego takes my hand, giving me one of our endless homie shakes. “We’re all right, Bennett. Even if you’re a pain in my ass sometimes.”

  We chuckle, and the pressure sitting on my chest eases some.

  Not enough to make it easier to breathe though. I’m still twisted up in knots, anxiously watching the game, my gaze never straying from the field. I keep my fists clenched on my knees, bent forward, so my ass is perched on the edge of the bench as I track everything happening. Our defensive line is strong and they keep the opposing team from scoring yet again, which gives me hope for the first time the entire game.

  “Good luck,” I tell Marshall, just before he’s about to run onto the field.

  He stops short, sending an appreciative look my way. “Thanks.”

  I realize Marshall seems terrified. His brown eyes are wide and unblinking, and for such a big dude, he’s giving off major scaredy cat vibes.

  “You’ve got this,” I tell him, my voice full of confidence. “Show them what you’re made of.”

  He nods once, his helmet wobbling on his head. “Will do. Thank you.”

  I watch as Marshall jogs onto the field and I go to where the coaches are standing, hoping one of them will talk to me.

  “You all right, Bennett?” Coach asks me.

  I nod once, staring out at the field. “I fucked up. Sorry.”

  “We can’t be perfect all the time.” He slaps me on the back, smiling faintly. “Take a breather. Let Marshall do his job.”

  “We’re down though. Now is not the time to put in the second string,” I remind him.

  “Better to send Marshall out there than put even more pressure on you and watch you fail,” he says, blunt as always.

  “True,” I mumble.

  I watch my offensive line and Marshall play pretty damn well. To my surprise, they drive the ball down the field fairly quickly and end up scoring a touchdown, plus the extra point.

  Now we’re only down by three.

  Glancing toward the crowd, I can’t help but wonder if Ava is here. Is she watching? Or is she still with my mom? I have no idea what’s going on, because I don’t have my phone and there’s no way for her to get in contact with me until after the game.

  I wonder if she’d be down for us being celibate at least through playoffs. I blew off the sex thing fucking with my head as a one off. Looks like it’s an actual thing, which is crazy, but I do remember when Tim Tebow was around and everyone said that guy was a virgin.

  Maybe that big ol’ fucker actually wasn’t getting pussy on the regular and it kept him on top of his game. I’ve heard weirder shit.

  And athletes are a superstitious lot. My dad had an ugly ass Forty-Niner Velcro wallet that he got in high school and he swore the one season he stopped using it, the Niners didn’t make it to the playoffs. He started using it ag
ain, and they were, once more, on top of their game.

  Like my dad’s wallet had anything to do with their season. Just goes to show that superstitious behavior carries over onto the fans’ too.

  Somehow our defense keeps the score the same and the third quarter is over. Coach indicates with a wave of his finger that he wants me to go back in and so I do.

  Hopefully we can score and make this game our bitch.

  Twenty-Six

  Ava

  Considering I didn’t have to take Eli’s mom back to her house, I was at a loss for what to do. All of my friends were still up at the cabin Jackson rented. Like…all of them. I didn’t want to drive all the way up there, only to have to turn around and head back down the hill to get Eli’s car to him.

  Then I realized they were all going to the football game since most of their boyfriends are playing, so I made plans to meet up with them at Hayden’s apartment so we could get ready together. Killing some time before they arrived, I went to the mall real quick and bought a new pair of jeans, some panties and a really cute sweater at American Eagle.

  They always come in clutch when I’m needing something new to wear.

  By the time I show up at Hayden’s apartment, I’m sleepy and in need of a nap. She takes one look at me, clutching my AE bag in one hand and a Starbucks in my other hand, and her expression turns suspicious.

  “What have you been up to?” Hayden’s brows shoot up.

  I stride into her apartment when she opens the door wider, waving at Gracie, who’s sitting on the couch. “Where’s Ellie?”

  “Still with Jackson. They’re coming to the game later. Together.” Gracie rolls her eyes. “Those two don’t do anything without each other.”

  “I think it’s cute,” I say, automatically defending my best friend.

  “Oh, so do I. I guess I’m just jealous since Caleb’s been so busy with football lately. Though she should know about sitting on the sidelines watching her boyfriend perform.” Gracie laughs. “Ignore me. I’m acting like a jealous troll.”