China stood and took a few steps toward me, worry evident on her face. The shaved patch of hair above her forehead hadn’t grown back in all the way yet, making her eyes look bigger.
But Maddie’s warm touch on my sweaty skin had already made me feel better. “Dr. Brooks is on it, guys. Don’t worry.”
Maddie searched my face. “Are you really okay?”
“The surgeon told me the nerves will take some time to heal,” I told her. “I’ll be fine.”
“Come get some lemonade, niños,” Mom said. She smiled, but I could hear the tremor in her voice. She was still on edge after the shooting.
To appease her, I said, “Okay, let’s give the other team a break. They’re probably tired of losing.”
“You’re the losers,” Lucia said.
Maddie grinned as I poured her a drink.
The fresh-squeezed lemonade went down easy on such a hot day. I had to admit I hadn’t minded eating food prepared by the White House chef the past few months. But I was itching to return to my condo so I could study for boards in peace.
“Alejandro, Alejandro,” sang Mateo, playing a salsa beat on his guitar. He continued, “Fernando…”
I stopped short and looked at China. “That’s where you got my code name Fernando? The Lady Gaga song?”
She nodded. “You’re quick, Fernando.”
“And I’m Roberto,” Mateo said, then sang, “Don’t call my name…”
I rolled my eyes.
“What am I?” Lucia asked.
Dane grabbed her. “You’re adorable.” She giggled as he leaned in for a kiss. “And sweaty,” he added.
“You sweat way more than I do.” She pushed him toward one end of the court with a smirk.
Maddie and Braxton had drifted to the other end of the court. I had an idea what they were discussing: visiting their mother in Wisconsin. Maddie wanted to go before she left for Europe, but Braxton was still waffling. I noticed Mom sneaking glances their way as she pretended to listen to Mateo’s song.
After meeting Maddie’s mother and learning about Maddie’s own struggle with depression, Mom had identified her platform as first lady: mental health. She’d already started planning an education program for the upcoming school year, in collaboration with the National Alliance for Mental Illness.
Mateo continued strumming the guitar as he shifted into another Lady Gaga song. I brought my glass of lemonade closer to Dad, and we watched him play for a few minutes.
“I can’t believe my youngest is almost done with high school,” Dad said. “Mateo sure grew up fast.”
I nodded. “That is weird he’ll be looking at colleges soon. But he’s still a snarky teenager.”
“He has his moments. He’s a sensitive kid, more sensitive than most. Probably helps him as a musician.”
Holy hell, did my younger brother just sing about riding a disco stick? I glanced at Dad but he hadn’t seemed to catch the reference. “I hope he finds a girl to take care of his sensitive heart,” I said.
“It’s probably just a matter of time. If he’s like his older siblings, that is.”
We watched Lucia gaze up at Dane, her eyes lit up like firecrackers as she laughed at something he said.
Dad slumped. “My children are growing up—they don’t need me anymore. I feel old.”
“You’re not old.”
“You try playing against twenty year olds when you’re almost fifty, and you’ll see how it feels.”
I chuckled.
He turned to me with a measured gaze. “What do you see for your future when you’re my age?” His dark eyes bored into me. “What do you want, Alejandro?”
I swallowed. “I want to marry Maddie.”
“I gathered that already.”
I smiled. “And three kids would be nice.” I stared at the soft curve of Maddie’s hips.
Dad’s eyebrow lifted. “This should be good—you with three screaming children. What goes around, comes around. And what about your career? Or do you plan to be a stay-at-home dad to all these children?”
I grinned. “Oh right, my career.” My smile faded. “I think I want to be an orthopedic surgeon.” I gauged his reaction. “I’ll do a sports medicine fellowship after residency, so I can work with athletes. Help them through their injuries.”
“That sounds perfect for you.” Dad nodded. “So you’ll be done with your training at age forty, then.”
I laughed. “Just before that, I hope.”
However long it took, I knew it would fly by with Maddie at my side. I turned to see her hand cover her mouth as Braxton spoke to her. She must have felt my stare because she turned and smiled. She said something to her brother, then headed toward me. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“Looks like a bright future for you, son.” Dad patted my shoulder.
I know. Her smile lit up my world.
“Mr. President?” Dad’s chief of staff had materialized on the court, and Dad went to speak to him as Maddie reached my side.
“You look happy,” I said.
She clasped my hand. “Brax just told me Dad might have a girlfriend.”
“Really? He moves fast.”
“Yeah, it only took him twenty years.” She nudged her shoulder into mine, and I smiled.
“Twenty years is nothing.” I leaned in and whispered, “I want to love you for a lifetime, corazón.”
Her eyes gleamed. When she kissed me, I felt her love flowing into me, filling my heart.
Excerpt from upcoming sequel
Excerpt from book three, Spiked,
coming late 2016
1. Jessica
THE STALE ODOR OF SPILLED BEER and unwashed laundry assaulted me as I walked down the humid hallway, confused by the blown-up Disney images of Elsa, Anna, and Olaf lining the dorm walls. Was this a university or a preschool?
Next to me, Mom wrinkled her nose. “I wish Highbanks had placed you in one of their newer dorms.”
“No, this is perfect,” Dad said, behind me. We’d piled my stuff into a cart that he now pushed, and it was difficult to hear him over the squeaking wheels. “The quintessential college experience: fifties architecture, no air conditioning.”
I pursed my lips. Why had I wanted my parents to stay together again? They disagreed on everything.
“Guys,” I said, “we already went over this. Canfield Hall is where most of the freshman swimmers live, ’cause it’s close to the pool.” I rolled my wheeled suitcase to a stop in front of room 220.
From our online chats over the summer, I knew my roommate had planned to arrive on campus yesterday. She’d said she’d need time to adjust to a new time zone. Australia was a long ways away. I knocked on our door, but there was no answer. A thrill zinged up my spine when I extracted my key from my pocket. My new home. The key signified freedom and fun.
When the door opened, the contrast between the two halves of the room startled me. My side was ugly, sterile, plain. Mackenzie’s exploded with color and energy. She’d lofted her bed frame to provide more space, and posters of shirtless men covered every centimeter of wall below and above the mattress. A fan on her desk rotated, pulsing the warm air.
“Well.” Mom set down her handbag and approached a muscled sportsman with a critical eye. Despite the heat, she looked perfectly put together in a pale pink silk blouse, black pencil skirt, and beige pumps. “Alex Rance, Richmond Tigers,” she read. “From the AFL. What’s that?”
“Australian Football League.” I heaved my suitcase onto the naked mattress. A bead of sweat slid down my spine. “Mackenzie’s a huge sports fan. She wants to become Australia’s equivalent of Erin Andrews.”
“Who?” Dad asked.
“She’s an ESPN reporter,” Mom said, her eyes still on the poster. “I met her once at a fundraiser.” As a US senator, Mom attended plenty of those. “We discussed the challenges of working as a woman in a man’s world.”
Dad and I shared a smirk. Mom was a staunch feminist.
He scan
ned the bare walls, hands on his hips. “You need to spice up this room. Want me to paint something for you?”
I straightened. He would do that for me? “Sure. I guess.”
He fiddled with the collar of his light blue button-down shirt. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to display it.”
“I love all your paintings, Dad.” He’d inspired me to major in art at Highbanks.
“That will get you going again, finally,” Mom said to him. “You always love immersing yourself in a new piece of art.”
Dad didn’t reply, but from the tightness around his eyes, I knew what he was thinking: Get off my back. His last gallery show had been almost a year ago, and Mom had been on his case to start painting again. But his muse wouldn’t be rushed, especially since the arguments between them had increased. Their spats poured ice water over his creative flame.
Mom fanned herself. “You sure we can’t convince you to live with your brother, honey?”
Before I could reply, Dad said, “Jessie wants her own life, Lois. She doesn’t want to live in Dane’s shadow. Plus, she’ll be closer the art building here.”
“Don’t lecture me like I don’t know my own daughter.” Mom folded her arms across her chest, and my stomach clenched. “I appreciate the value of struggle for building resilience.” She waved her hand toward the chipped wood bedframe. “Like living with this cheap furniture. But, Patrick, she’ll endure enough stress as a college student-athlete. Do you have any idea how packed her schedule will be?”
Dad scowled. “This is a dig about how I haven’t been involved with Dane’s volleyball career?”
I stifled a groan. Two years ago, right before my mother lost the presidential election to Adolfo Ramirez, we’d learned my dad had cheated on her. He’d been distant for some time, and after that revelation it all made sense. But he’d ended the affair, and my parents had committed to saving their marriage. They’d gone to couples counseling and for a while I’d been simultaneously embarrassed and relieved to see them kiss and hold hands. But after my dad’s gallery show didn’t do so well last September, he’d become grumpy. They’d started to bicker more. And I couldn’t stand listening to their arguments.
Tuning them out, I texted my older brother. Maybe his flight from Colorado hadn’t left yet.
Save me. They’re fighting again.
Fuck. They suck.
I grinned, grateful Dane didn’t act like the twenty-one-year-old college senior he was. He texted again:
Just boarded in CO Springs.
Layover in Denver then home at 5.
I’ll rescue you.
This was the second Olympic developmental camp he’d attended, and he had a good shot of making the national volleyball team after he graduated from Highbanks next May. I would kill to be on the national swimming team. I had less than two years of college training before the Olympic trials—two years to prove I was the best breaststroker in America. Just thinking about it made me giddy.
I replied:
The rents will be long gone by then.
Mom has a thing at the Statehouse.
Not too late to change your mind and live with me.
I sighed as I looked at the scratched linoleum floor. Dane lived in a sweet two-bedroom condo off-campus with probably ten times the square footage of my dorm room. But living with him meant I wouldn’t get to know my teammates or other students as well. I wouldn’t live a normal college life. And after all the publicity of my mother running for president, I wanted normal. Besides, I didn’t want to be a third wheel.
You and Lucia don’t want me around.
Luz loves you, you know that.
We’re psyched we both have our sibs here.
I gulped, picturing olive skin and dark, soulful eyes. Lucia’s younger brother, Mateo, was new on campus this year, too.
My choice to attend Highbanks had been a no-brainer, given I’d grown up here in the Midwest and the school had a top-ten NCAA swim team. Mateo’s decision had been more of a surprise. He reportedly liked the music school, but I bet it had come down to security. Secret Service already had Highbanks figured out. They planned to house him with Lucia in a safe off-campus house.
Did Mateo move in yet?
Not sure. Sec Serv won’t tell Luz anything.
Boarding door just closed. Will call when land.
Tell Dad to stop being a dick.
It was more like Mom was being the dick, but I’d have to save that discussion for later.
I felt Dad’s hand on my shoulder as I texted goodbye.
“Bested by the cell phone once again. We’re clearly not needed here.” He smiled.
Mom looked in the mirror and brushed her fingers through her hair. Hers was blond, short, straight, perfectly coiffed. Mine was blond, long, curly, imperfectly feral. “Sorry we got heated, honey.” She patted her hair, then looked at me. “I know you don’t like it when we argue.”
Then why do you do it?
“You’ll be okay, then, Jessie?” Dad’s deep blue eyes assessed me.
“More than okay.” I grinned. “I’ve been waiting for college for forever.”
Mom approached me. “I remember feeling the same way, my first day at Yale. You too, Patrick?”
“Sure.” Dad paused and shook his head. “Actually, I was scared shitless. The other art students seemed so sophisticated, and here I was, this poor kid from Ohio.”
“Aw.” Mom rubbed his shoulder. “I didn’t know that. I wish I’d been there for you back then.”
Dad nodded. “Me, too.” He reached for her hand.
I exhaled.
“So your mother didn’t take you to school?” Mom asked.
Dad shook his head. “She couldn’t get off work. I had to make the trip to New York by myself.”
As much as my parents annoyed me, I had to admit I was glad they’d helped me move in. But now it was time for them to leave. “Thanks for helping, Mom and Dad.”
“That’s code for Get the hell out.” Mom laughed, then hugged me.
Dad squeezed me tight. “I’ll miss you. We’ll be at all your swim meets; we promise.”
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach in anticipation of my first college swim meet.
Once my parents left, I finished unloading the cart and returned it to the dorm lobby. I was stuffing my last shirt into the overcrowded closet when the door swung open.
“Roomie!” Mackenzie squealed as she bopped in.
She was about five-five with a dark brown ponytail. What I would give for that straight, sleek hair…She wore a Highbanks Swimming T-shirt, and her gym shorts showcased tanned, muscular legs.
“Hey. I’m Jessica.” I reached out my hand.
She frowned at my hand and scooped me into a hug. “Good onya, you’re tall!” She looked up at me. “You’re almost two meters, then?”
I chewed on my lip. “Um, I’m six feet.”
“Ace.” She scanned the room. “So, what do you think?”
“Too hot in here.” I grimaced. My curls had seized up from the humidity, and I felt sweat at the nape of my neck. “Love your posters, though.”
She brightened. “Right? He’s my favorite.” She ducked under her bed and patted the muscles of an intense-looking guy with a shaved head. “David Zaharakis, from Essendon footie.” Her hand fluttered over her heart. “He’s scored over a hundred goals.”
“Awesome.” I had no idea what she was talking about. Were goals like touchdowns?
She straightened. “Hope I meet a guy as cute as him here. You’re coming to the swimmer party tonight, right?”
“I didn’t know about a party.”
“Now you do. It’s at the swimmer house. We’re going.”
The giddy feeling returned. My first college party!
She held up her phone. “Elyse texted me about it. She wants your number, too. What is it?”
Elyse was a senior on the team who had followed me on Instagram. After I told Mackenzie my cell number, I asked, “What’s th
e swimmer house?”
“A bunch of senior guy swimmers have a house on south campus.” She stripped off her T-shirt and turned to her closet. Like most swimmers, she had no need for modesty. “Is your mum here?”
“She had to leave.”
“Oh, poop. Dad wanted me to meet her.” She tugged a camisole over her bra. “He says she’s famous.”
She didn’t know my mother? “You know she ran for president, right?”
Mackenzie blinked at me. “President of the United States? Rack off!”
I laughed. How could she not know that? “She lost the election two years ago.”
“Damn. That must’ve been heaps of bummer.”
I shrugged. “It’s not too bad. I wouldn’t have been able to live in the dorm if I had Secret Service all the time, like Lucia.”
“Lucia?”
“I told you about my brother, right? He’s a senior on the volleyball team here. His girlfriend is President Ramirez’s daughter.”
“I’ll be stuffed. Dad didn’t tell me that.” She tossed her backpack onto her desk chair and rummaged through it. “I wonder what it’d be like to date the president’s kid.”
I wonder, too. I’d met Mateo at the presidential debate two years ago, but hadn’t seen him since. Back then, Secret Service agent Johnny Zucko had guarded me, and Dane told me Johnny was now on Mateo’s detail. I hoped I got to see them both soon, as well as meet the hot men on the swim team. The sweetness of eye candy awaited me.
I studied my closet, wondering what to wear to the party. “Hey, what’s up with Frozen-palooza in the hallway?”
Mackenzie laughed. “Zoe—she’s the RA—she said our wing theme is Frozen.”
“Whatever.”
“Right?”
As I selected a turquoise sequined halter-top, I thought about Anna, the younger sister in the movie. First she fell for the handsome and confident Prince Hans, but then the unassuming Kristoff had wormed his way into her heart. One betrayed her, and the other earned her love.
“Love your shirt,” Elyse told me. Thankfully she’d leaned in to shout in my ear so I could hear her over the pounding bass.
Aced (Blocked #2) Page 27