by Shandi Boyes
A blonde lady quickly retreats, but she’s not quick enough for me not to put a face to her designer pants, unruffled hair, and the tension her voice caused to Elvis. He stiffened even faster than he did when I landed on top of him with a bang. Fortunately, none of the stiffness was to his lower regions. This must be Lillian.
“It’s okay. There’s a washroom in the far right corner.” I point in the direction I’m referencing. I doubt the tiny facilities will be up to her standards, but when it’s the only bathroom that guarantees a lowered lid, you take what you can get.
When she heads for the washroom, I stand to my feet. “I’ll send a message to your weight trainer on my way home.”
“Will—”
“It’s okay,” I assure Elvis, more than eager not to be stuck between two battling powerhouses. “This gives me the opportunity to get a head start on practice tomorrow.”
More than a niggle in his back echoes in his voice when he mutters, “I don’t want to talk to her.”
“Then tell her that.” I squeeze his hand in support before snagging my backpack from behind my desk and ambling toward the locker room.
I’m barely halfway across the room when Elvis shouts, “Wait up! I’ll give you a ride.”
When he stops at my side, I raise my eyes to his. “Running from your problems won’t solve anything.”
“Who said I’m running from trouble?” He slings his arm around my shoulder and tugs me into his side. “Maybe I’m striving to tackle the storm head on this time around. Wasn’t it you who said I should be able to both give and receive tackles? Figured I should give it a shot.”
“I was talking out of my ass, but I guess when you’re a guy who does nothing but dribble shit all day, that’s the equivalent of liquid gold.”
Elvis laughs. It is such a beautiful thing to hear when my stomach is twisted up in a tight, jealous ball. I thought I had a handle on my neurosis. I took Skylar’s numerous proclamations that she’s moments away from bedding the “King of Quarterbacks” like a champ, and I didn’t even ruffle a feather when a group of female fans wanted Elvis to sign more than a jersey at the end of his game, but this, I’m struggling with this. Danny has mentioned a Lillian a handful of times the past six weeks, but Elvis quickly shut his comments down.
It doesn’t take a genius to realize Elvis and Lillian have a past; I’m just unsure how deep their ties run. Skylar and Elvis’s many fans can dream of being with him, but the chances of their wishes coming true are basically non-existent. Lillian doesn’t have to clutch at the same skerrick of hope as them. I’m confident she’s already had her wish granted, and I’m even more confident her resurrection in Elvis’s life at this very moment isn’t a coincidence. The hype around him at the moment is mammoth; so much so, I really hope he doesn’t see my attention as mooching. I almost kissed him because I like him, not because of what he could bring to my life.
“I’m going to catch a cab. It’s late, and I don’t want you going out of your way to take me home.”
Elvis’s words trap in his throat when I briefly press my lips to his mouth before making a beeline for an idling taxi. The drivers always hang out at this entrance of the stadium with the hope of driving one of the idols home. My driver’s face lights up like a Christmas tree when he notices me approaching. His excitement doesn’t linger for long when I slide into the back seat before slamming the door shut, leaving his preferred passenger at the private entrance of the stadium looking as dumbfounded as I feel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Presley
I wait until Willow’s taxi blurs into a sea of many before kicking the steel trash can in front of me. The high of a win is being quickly overshadowed by a low, and I can’t even blame the woman evading me for the drop of my mood. It’s the one I’m trying to avoid like the plague. The one watching me right now like a hawk, hiding in the shadows like she never would during our relationship. She always wanted to be the center of attention, at the front of every campaign. My victories were her victories, no matter what they were.
“What do you want, Lillian? Is the penthouse getting too dated for you and you’re in need of an upgrade? Or has that hideous pink Barbie doll car you drive around gotten too many miles on the odometer?”
I hear Lillian swallow before she steps out of the shadows. She doesn’t speak a word, but I don’t need to hear them to know what they are. She’s about to run with the same excuse she used on me earlier tonight. The ones where she pledged she can’t live without me, and that she’s never stopped loving me.
She stops wordlessly pleading with me when I swipe my hand through the air. “As I said earlier, I know why you’re here, and I’ve learned from my mistakes. We’re not going down that road again, Lillian. I’ve moved on. It’s time for you to do the same.” I try to hold in the rest of my scorn, but Willow’s eagerness to leave me stranded on the sidewalk weakens my campaign. “Oh, that’s right—too late. You moved on months before me.” My brows furrow. “Or was it years? I can’t remember all the details.”
“Everything I did was to help you and your career.”
Over her using the same pathetic excuses, I curse into the cool night air before pushing off my feet. I’ve got as much knowledge of these streets as a taxi driver but more enthusiasm than one hoping to fleece a student of money she doesn’t have by taking her the long way home.
“It’s her, isn’t it?” I can’t see Lillian, but I’m certain she’s pointing in the direction Willow’s taxi just went.
Not having the time nor the patience to deal with her antics, I continue for my car. The parking lot is as empty as my bank balance after I paid for my angry outburst the last time we were in the same room as each other. Not willing to part with more of my hard-earned money, leaving is the best thing I can do.
“When I said you needed to find yourself again, I didn’t mean you should go back to who you were before we met. She’s a child, for crying out loud! How is anyone okay with this?”
I take in a deep breath, then continue walking.
While Lillian persists with her belligerent rant on how we’re destined to be together, I remind myself time and time again how much I lost because of her. I repeat twenty-three million dollars over and over again while my mind replays the unsure expression Willow’s face held when she slipped into the cab. If I needed any more proof on how toxic my relationship with Lillian was, I just got it. None of my thoughts center around our time together—not one of them.
As a security guard cautions Lillian to calm down, I slip into my driver’s seat. The purr of my engine matches the havoc twisting in my gut. Lillian didn’t arrive tonight for no reason. She’s up to something. If my eagerness to beat Willow to her dorm wasn’t on the forefront of my mind, I’d look into her sudden unwanted return. Alas, I only have one woman on my mind. She isn’t the one who makes my blood boil. Well, not in anger anyway.
I MAKE it to Willow’s school a whole two and a half minutes before her taxi. I didn’t run a single red light or floor the gas; I just used my knowledge of the streets to my advantage. It paid off for me tonight; Willow doesn’t look like she’s enjoying the change in our plans as much as me.
“Regretting your decision now, aren’t you?”
Willow stops counting the small change in her purse. Instead, she scoops them out and thrusts them at the taxi driver, pretending she wasn’t counting his fare to the very dime.
“Not really; it was a nice night for a drive.” With the wink of a woman who doesn’t know the phrase “back down,” she pivots on her heels and stalks to her dorm.
Her steps slow to barely a snail’s pace when I say, “Lillian is my ex-fiancée. We were supposed to wed three weeks before I walked in on her in our bed with her yoga instructor.”
Willow swivels around to face me. “Ex-fiancée?”
“Very much so,” I answer without hesitation.
“Does she know that?”
Determined not to lie to her again, I shrug. “I don’t know.” When she
turns and walks away from me, I rush out my next set of words, “But I plan on confirming she’s well aware of that fact no matter what happens between us. I didn’t postpone our wedding the first time for no reason. I’ve always known deep down inside that she isn’t the girl for me. Then when I broke my back, I was saved from the fire for the second time.”
I rake my fingers through my hair while cursing the cool fall air. That was not a good analogy for me to use. Mercifully, Willow is as strong as the woman I see in her eyes.
“You postponed your wedding before you injured yourself?”
I step closer to her. “Yes. I made an excuse about it being the end of the season and that I needed to keep my mind focused on the game instead of wedding hoopla.”
“And Lillian bought that?” Willow sounds equally sickened and humored.
I nod. “She was happy for the postponement. Not because she needed more time to plan our wedding, but because it gave her plenty of opportunities to seek out the highest bidder to broadcast our ceremony to the supposed two million people who signed up to watch it live.”
“Yet, you still asked her to marry you. What kind of man does that make you?”
Ouch! Take that, ego.
“Sorry.” Regret fills Willow’s eyes when she spots the shock in mine. “I’m dealing with a whole heap of emotions I’m not used to handling. I’m also hangry. Nobody likes a hangry Will.”
The smile stretching across my face makes it hard to get out my next set of words. “Join the club.”
She cocks her hip and drags her teeth over her lip in an undoubtedly sexy way. “Which part? The hangry part? Or the whole heap of emotions?”
“A bit of both.” I nudge my head to the right. “We could work through both issues over there.”
Her eyes stray to Mickey’s for a few seconds before they return to me. “Who’s paying? I’m living off coupons until Tuesday.” She doesn’t sound the least bit embarrassed. During our conversations the three weeks I was on the road, I verified my college days were just as dire as hers.
“I’ll get this one; you can pick up the next.”
I sling my arm around her shoulder to guide her to Mickey’s, only to have her pull away from me two seconds later. My panic subsides when she murmurs, “You may not want to hug me when you learn how many appetizers I’m planning to order.”
“DOES DANNY KNOW?” A string of tomato-loaded spaghetti wiggles up Willow’s chin, flicks her nose, then gets lost in her O-circled mouth before she locks her light blue eyes with mine.
I’m tempted to lick the smear of tomato paste from her nose but keep my focus on the task at hand. It’s a fucking hard feat. “Know what?”
She swallows her mouthful of spaghetti before replying, “That you hired him to lower the possibilities of ‘it’ happening again.” She air quotes “it” like she’s afraid to say the word “affair” out loud.
“You think I hired Danny because I’m worried about being cheated on again?”
I scrub pizza sauce from my face with a napkin, no longer hungry, when she shrugs. “It’s understandable. Being deceived really screws people up. You didn’t just have it happen once; by the sounds of it, the two men you know of aren’t the only ones you’re suspicious of.”
“I hired Danny because he is a lifelong friend, not because he’s disinterested in the same body parts as me.” I screw up my napkin and dump it onto my half-eaten plate of food. “I also hated seeing him go through what I had experienced only months before.”
“Danny was cheated on?” She sounds like I just told her her puppy died. Her eyes are welling with moisture, and her cheeks are whitening.
I nod. “Yes, but why is that more concerning to you than hearing my stories of Lillian’s infidelities?”
She smiles, loving the jealousy tainting my tone. Perhaps she is right? Maybe I did hire Danny so I didn’t have to worry about him sniffing around my turf?
“Danny is a sweetheart, but he isn’t you.” Willow waves her hand down my body, which is still embarrassingly outfitted with my team uniform—cleats and all. I was in such a hurry to track Willow down, I didn’t bother getting changed. Thank god my head was screwed on enough to throw on a smelly shirt I found in my gym bag during my drive.
“You handled Lillian’s. . . indiscretion. . .” –that sounded as awkward as you’d expect—“. . .by beating the pulp out of a man before losing yourself in. . .” She taps her sauce-smeared lips with her index finger. “What did you say again. . . ? ‘All the girls I didn’t get to tap.’ So, yeah, Mr. Wave My Dick Around Like It’s A Magic Wand, my heart is pained for Danny. I feel for him so greatly, I wish to nuzzle him into my bosoms so I can wipe away his tears. You. . .” A sudden urgency to protect my nuts hits me when she rakes her eyes down my body, only stopping when she reaches the section of my pants my groin protector is usually guarding. “You don’t get any of my sympathy.”
Although I’m loving her jealousy, I can’t help but defend myself. “She cheated on me. I’m not the one in the wrong here.”
“No, you’re not. What she did was wrong, but your actions since haven’t been any better. You let her play you tonight.”
I attempt to argue, to blame my fumbling hands on the wet conditions, but I can’t. She’s right. I let Lillian fuck with my head so badly, I was seconds from being benched. Until I heard Willow cheering for me, I didn’t think anything would get me out of the dark hole my conversation with Lillian pushed me down.
When I tell Willow that, she cups my jaw with her tiny hands. “Then remember that anytime she riles you up. She arrived tonight to get a reaction out of you—good or bad. You played right into her hand.” She screws up her face as if her next set of words are scorching her throat. “As did I. I shouldn’t have run like I did. I was just. . .”
The scared expression on her face says way more than her words ever could. Just like me, she’s unsure what we are, but unlike me, she’s not yet hellbent on fighting for what she wants. Running is less complicated but nowhere near as effective.
With that in mind, I ask, “Do you have any plans two weeks from Friday?”
Willow peers at me in shock, stunned by the sudden detour in our conversation. It went from being sentimental to being electric in less than a nanosecond.
When she shakes her head, I disclose, “Coach James hosts an annual costume party every year. It’s nothing fancy, just the players’ family and friends all in one spot before the playoffs. I’d love to take you as my date.”
“Date? I doubt Coach would be happy with that.”
Her breathing quickens when I run my finger along her lips, incapable of ignoring her messy mouth for a second longer. It was either wipe it away with my finger or scrub it with my tongue. I went for the one less likely to be filmed by the several phone cameras currently facing us.
Once her mouth is clear of sauce, I sink back into my side of the booth. “If I run it by Coach first? Would you be up for it then?”
She hears more in my tone than I meant to display. “Just a date? The standard pick me up and take me home with the hope of a peck at my door date?”
I twist my lips. “These things can run late, and Coach James does live around the corner from my condo, so. . .” My words are stolen by her fist landing in my stomach. Her anger is all a ploy; she’s more excited at the prospect of me going to bat for our relationship than anything.
“If you get approval from Coach James, I’ll pick you up. Then, if you play your cards right, I might let you touch my boob during our goodnight kiss.”
She scoots out of our booth, her smile as raging as my heart rate at just the thought of getting a bit of boob action. It’s been three weeks since I’ve felt her up, so I’m more than dying to get reacquainted with her body.
Her lips tickle my earlobe when she leans over to whisper in my ear. “Look at you getting all excited, and I didn’t even mention which part of your body I’m planning to kiss.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
; Presley
“Surprise!”
My deep gasp almost lodges my toothbrush down my throat. I choke on a mountain-load of minty spit, my near death adding to the humorous image confronting me.
While gesturing for Willow to enter the foyer of my condo, I talk around my toothbrush. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“A costume. Skylar said it’s un-American to go to a costume party without a costume, so here I am.” She places her hands on her hips and rocks them forward, thrusting an oversized set of udders my way. “You know how I said if you got Coach James to agree to our date, I’d let you touch my boob?” She gyrates her hips in a circle, swiveling the gigantic udders on her cow costume with more agility than a real cow would have. “I’ve got all the bases covered.”
My mouth opens as my brow cocks. “Are you telling me my shameful, nearly tearful beg at Coach James’s feet was all to feel up cow udders?”
After nodding, Willow follows me into my bathroom. I spit out the foam in my mouth, rinse my toothbrush, then spin around to face her. “That wasn’t a part of our deal. I kept my side by letting you pick me up, so you’re not reneging on your half of our deal. I want boob action—goddammit.” Yep, I sound like a teen boy who’s never slid past second base.
Willow’s cow ears slant as much as her sexy lips when she drops her head to the side. “Don’t let the sexiness of my outfit deceive you, E. If you’ve got the right mooooves, you won’t need milk to get to the udder side of it.”
I grin at her spunk. “That took you all day to come up with, didn’t it?”
When she nods, I weave my hand through her hair, tug her head back, then plant a minty kiss on her smiling lips. I can do that now without looking over my shoulder. Not just because we’re in the safety of my home, but because the better I play, the more lenient Coach James is becoming. I have him so convinced Willow is my good luck charm, I’m certain the no sex before games rule he mandates for all the players during championship month would be null and void if I asked. He might even book hotel rooms and stage them for intimacy if it guaranteed his players would keep thrashing our opponents as we have the past eight weeks. Alas, Willow signed a legally-binding contract. Fortunately, it’s over in a little under two weeks.