“What look?” Besides the grin that this unexpected trip with him has given me, I don't know what he's talking about.
“That I-was-fucking-right look.”
“Was I right?” My smile stretches even further. “About what? I want to know.”
He pulls the brim of his hat so it sits low on his head. “Never mind—”
“No, you can't take it back now. Tell me, what was I right about?” I twist in my seat to face him.
“Being alone in your room.” The look he shoots me is just as direct as his words, and his smile is gone. “I don't think I would have left there a friend if we didn't get out when we did.”
“Oh.” I face forward and stare out the window, unable to look at him. My stomach's spin cycle hits high gear, and I'm beyond blushing, but I can't stop the flood of images in my mind.
He laughs slightly, maybe with a hint of nerves. “Friends are supposed to be honest, right?”
I nod, my throat prickling and constricting like I'm allergic. All I can picture is straddling him on my narrow bed, his hands up my shirt, him with no shirt, and my hands all over his tattoos. What a way to end a friendship. His lips would be on my neck, just like that time in his house—
“We should be friends.” I talk to stop my thoughts. “I'm not sure we are, are we? I know you want to win your bet and last at being friends, but that bet wasn't even real. If you failed today, what would happen?” Besides my mind exploding and me going insane with your touch. “There's no consequences, there's no prize for winning either. I don't get it. It's not like I can do anything if you break the rules. There are no rules.”
“Calm down.” He leans forward on the steering wheel, head tilted in my direction.
It's only as I'm about to tell him he needs to watch the road that I realize we're stopped at a red light. With his full attention on me, my body feels like it's on fire and not in the good way, in the I'm-being-attacked-by-fire-ants sort of way. “I am calm. I'm only wondering…”
“You were wondering what you could do to me,” his smile signals trouble, the type that silences me and gives me even dirtier thoughts, “if I lose this bet?”
“No.” Lie. “I don't want a bet, I don't want games. I don't….” I can't finish my sentence. The old truck lurches forward when the light turns green, and I can't say I don't want any of this. I'm in love with the rush of him, the way my pulse goes wild when he's near, the way his smiles cut through my jumbled thoughts, the way riding in his truck feels warm and familiar, the way he drives me crazy.
“Football.” He nods with his declaration. His attention is solely on the road and one hand re-grips the steering wheel.
“Where?” I search the truck for any sign of one.
“Nowhere.” His silent laugh vibrates from him and the smile accompanying it is one of my favorites. It's a glimpse that there's something more to him than dark looks and sexy words. “Not a football. Just football. You seemed confused just now, thinking too much. When I get that way, football refocuses me. That's what we need.” He flicks his eyes to me for the briefest of seconds. “Especially after this week. I need to focus on football.”
Guilt worms its way into my brain. Had all this party planning kept him away from training? He’d still been going to practices every morning. “I'm sorry if I've kept you from football. I didn't mean to be a distraction.”
His eyes sweep towards me, shaded from the bright sunshine by the brim of his black hat. His lips part with no words for a moment, but the look he gives me isn't one that I'd want to interrupt with more talking. It's filled with uncertainty, and fear, and wanting—a perfect reflection of what I've been feeling.
“You have no idea, Brook, what it is you've been doing to me.” He shakes his head, closing the window into him I thought I'd glimpsed, and focuses on the road. “But friends.” He taps his fingers on the wheel. “Real or not, I take my challenges seriously, and we are friends. Friends.” He tosses me a casual smile. “Friends.”
“Okay.” I attempt to dismiss his words like he just had, and I take in our surroundings. We're crossing into Westgate, the next town over. “Where are we going?”
“You said you didn't know anything about me, I'm going to show you something about me.”
“Really?” I sit up taller, a bubble of delight gliding up my spine. “What is it?”
“How I focus when everything at school gets too unreal, when I forget why I'm really there and what I want. I've got…” His head rocks on his shoulder a bit as he considers. “Well, you're probably about to meet one of my best friends. You'll see. We're not far.”
A few minutes later, we pull up to a high school campus. Andrew parks along the side of the road, in front of a large field, but the school is visible at the far end. I know this school, not because I've been, but because it was always the school to beat. The school that the high school I attended had dreams of beating, before everything went wrong.
I can't move.
Andrew opens his door and gets out, pausing before he closes it to look back at me. “Come on,” he encourages. “Q's on the field. That's him, there.” He points to the only person on the field. He's running the length with some sort of parachute attached to his back. Andrew shakes his head with a laugh. “Come on, I'll introduce you. We won’t stay long, but he wanted to meet you.”
I rip my eyes away from the field to look at Andrew, wondering what he’s said about me. “Okay.” I slide out of the seat, taking deep calming breaths before I meet Andrew at the front of his truck.
Just because my school talked about this one, doesn't mean this one talked about my school. My town's football team never beat this one. It probably never even got far enough to get on their radar. And there would be no reason to mention it today anyways. None. This was my constant prayer.
The athlete on the field runs back from the far end, parachute still attached. He's spotted us walking towards him and slows down, unhooking the contraption from his back as he jogs towards us.
Andrew's laughing. “You're still slow as fuck. Never going to beat me, no matter how much weight you add.”
The boy stops in front of Andrew and wipes his hands on his mesh shorts, muscles showing in his wife beater. A large, bright smile on his dark face. “We'll see about that.” He points at me with one hand. “I won't embarrass you in front of the lady by mentioning how I already crushed your high school record and this season’s only started.”
“No, you wouldn't do that. Especially since we both know it's not true. You play shit teams, nothing like the competition I had in high school.”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Drew.” He rubs his hand over his bald head. “But, enough of this bullshit. Hello pretty little thing, my name's Q.” He lifts one of my hands to his lips, barely grazing my knuckles. “I'll be at South Eastern next year, and then you'll see for yourself who does it better.”
“Enough of that.” Andrew crosses his arms as I giggle like a fool.
There's a lightness to his cocky charm that Andrew's lacks, and his smile seems like it's common on his face. But Andrew's smile is coming easier now, too.
“Where the hell did you get that thing?” Andrew nods to the parachute on the field.
“Amazon. You want to try it out?” Q hooks his fingers in the harness he's wearing. “I'll keep the girl occupied.” He spreads his hand flat on his chest as he dips his head to me. “My apologies, what is your name, angel?”
“Brooklyn,” Andrew answers.
“Brook,” I answer at the same time, but hearing my name roll off his lips still sends a thrill through me, especially now that he's used my full name. There's something about the way he says it, and the way he looks at me as he says it, the way he's looking at me now. It's delicious and makes me want to taste it off his lips.
“Maybe another time.” Q's smile is wide as he looks between us. “Looks like you're going to skip practice with me today. That's all right.” He slaps Andrew's shoulder with the back of his hand a
nd steps away. “Go take the pretty Brooklyn out. We'll make up for it tomorrow. I got to get back out there though before my dinner shift starts.” He bows to me with his hand on his stomach and everything. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I'll see you at that thing on Saturday. Pop's excited to finally help Drew out without having to worry about NCAA bullshit.”
He's already half way across the field before I can respond.
“I can always count on him to be out here practicing, even when his team practice is done. He's got that hustle, that fire that's needed to be the best. That's why I'll trek off campus to practice out here with him. That and the high school brings me back to the beginning.”
I don't know what to question first as we watch Q on the field, but for once I let the silence be, hoping he'll be the one to fill it. Maybe he’ll tell me more about himself or about why he brought me here for a two second meeting. Not that I mind, especially since he spoke like it was important.
When Q reaches the far end of the field, Andrew turns back to the truck.
As I climb into the passenger seat, I break the silence, “What did he mean about Saturday?”
“His Dad owns the restaurant that's catering. He works there in the evenings, and he'll be working on Saturday.”
“And the NCAA?” I buckle my belt as he pulls out of the parking spot.
“I can't accept anything from anyone without breaking college rules about me being paid or endorsed. Coach isn't even aloud to give us food without it breaking rules. But everyone in town still wants to give you things.” He shakes his head with a dazed grin. “It's fucking crazy actually. Restaurants on campus know better, but new servers still try and cover our bill for us, but they can't. I could get kicked off the team for a free ice cream. That's why Saturday was easy, people throw stuff at me and I can't accept it. But for a charity, they can give without getting me in trouble.”
“Seriously? You can't accept anything? Some of those restaurants even have your jersey up, but you can't get comped a meal?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head. “And all those jersey's with my name on it, I don't see a dime. Oh, the school gives me a scholarship with a meal plan, so it's all-fair. That's super fucking nice of them, considering I bring in millions.”
“That sucks. I'm sorry.” I steal his words from earlier. It's one of those situations we can't control, but I don't want him dipping further into the anger that’s running under his words. “But all that will change after next year, and then you'll go pro, right?”
He gives me a side look and nods his head. “You want to get something quick to eat, and then I'll take you back.”
“Sure.” The way he runs hot and cold so suddenly is the most frustrating part of him. But this cool side only makes me realize how much I want that hot side, how much I like it, even when the heat seems too much. I like it. But as I look at him now, his jaw clenched in silent concentration on the road and whatever is going on inside that head, I don't mind this either. He's got me interested in learning what makes him tick, even if it's a risk.
“Thank you.” I keep watching him, so I don't miss the confusion that narrows his eyes before he gives me a slight, but sweet, smile.
“For what?”
“For taking me out today. For introducing me to your friend. For showing me something about you.” I shrug and add, “For helping on Saturday.”
He flips his hat on his head, putting the brim back now that we're not driving into the sun, and he winks at me. “I'm kind of good at this friend thing.”
“Kind of.” I wrinkle my nose at him, teasing. “Just a little bit good.”
But the summersaults in my stomach prove I’m lying.
* * *
I’m not sure what I expected from Andrew, but it wasn’t this. The way he’s playing with the kids at the party opens my heart to him in a whole new way. I watch from the sidelines as he throws balloons down the field to a group of kids all scrambling to catch them. But when Dylan’s mother approaches me with tears in her eyes, my heart drops.
“Is everything okay?” I question, reaching for her arm to offer comfort.
“Yes.” She nods with a watery smile and pulls me into a surprisingly strong hug considering her thin frame. Every other interaction I had with her, I feared she'd blow away. “I can't believe how much there is, how many people showed up.”
“Yeah, it became bigger than I imagined. Sorry about that, so many people just wanted to be involved and… I hope this isn't too much.” I hope it's not too overwhelming for Dylan.
I scan around the crowded lawn with multiple stations and spot the birthday boy's bright yellow shirt in the middle of a group of kids chasing after TJ and Kyle. They pass by the mini petting farm with ducks and goats. Ducks and goats, I don't even know where they came from.
“Oh, no dear, don't be silly. This is wonderful. I am so thankful for everything you've done for my son, for all these kids. He loves the camp on Saturdays, he loves that he can actually participate and not feel too slow or weak. He looks forward to it all week long. And then this party—” her voice cracks and she swipes her hand over her cheek to catch the tears that are falling. But she laughs as she watches Dylan laugh at Kyle being pretend tackled to the ground by the group of children. Then she turns to me and grips my hand in her cool palm. “Thank you. For all the hell this cancer has put us through, it's shown us a few angels, and you, my dear, are one of them.”
I swallow the emotion that's rising in my throat. It's tight and burning and makes breathing difficult. I grip her hand and can only return her tears for a moment as I take a breath. “I'm no angel, but your son is my hero.” I can't even finish the words as I look at his smiling face, with those eyes that are wise beyond his four years. “I'm glad to know him.”
“He is very special. I say that all the time.” She smiles through the stream of tears and takes a big breath, gripping my hand tight before releasing it. “I need to stop this crying. It's a happy day. I'm going to go celebrate with my baby. Thank you.”
I swipe the stray tears off my face and take little gulps of air until my breathing returns to normal and I can face people again. Then I go check on Scott at the grill and the other little things that need to be done to keep the party running smooth. And thankfully it does go smooth. All day. Even clean up is turned into a game for the kids, and they all run around trying to find the balloons and balls to toss into the correct bin.
“Did you try the pulled pork?” Q comes up beside me as I'm collecting the chairs from around the field.
“Very good. Did you make it?”
“I'm a man of many talents.” He flashes me his larger than life smile and grabs the chair from my arms. “You've got some talent, too. This was one hell of a birthday.”
“It wasn't me, I think Andrew planned most of it.” I nod to Andrew on the opposite side of the field with TJ. He glances our way.
“That's a talent too, getting Andrew to care about something beyond football. I hadn't been able to pull that one off yet.”
I shake my head and smile while I fold up another chair and try not to read into what he said, but there's a warmth snaking through my chest at the idea.
“Did I hear right, is your last name Shaw?” He questions as we walk towards a van to stack the chairs in.
“Yeah.”
“Are you from around here?” It's only now that his tone alerts me.
“Um, kind of nearby. Why?” My heads beginning to pound with my heart.
“The name sounds familiar, and I heard you're only a freshmen. I grew up here so I thought maybe we knew each other from somewhere or something. What school did you go to?”
Andrew steps to my side and takes the chair from my hands. “These go in the Sig van, right?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I take steps back, still facing them. “I'm just going to go get the balls. I've got to take them back to the south gym.”
Q elbows Andrew and speaks low, “She'll get the balls.” He meets my eyes with a
laugh. “Oh shit, did you hear that? I'm sorry. My bad.”
His laughter follows me as I turn and walk away with relief. I'm even more relieved that Q leaves after he puts the chairs away, but he's already frayed some nerves with his questions.
* * *
“Are you sure that's safe?” I eye Scott's packed trunk. It can't close, and a table is jutting out the end. A string is looped through the trunk latch and base, tied together to keep it all semi secured.
“Safe enough.” Scott shrugs. “I'm only driving across the street.” He looks back over the field. “Anything else that needs to be done?”
“No, I think that's it.” I glance over the empty field, and then over the parking lot where the last few people are congregating in spots. Andrew's talking to TJ, and my gaze must attract his because he looks in my direction just then. “Thanks for all your help today. Dylan and his mom really appreciated it all, too.”
“I know, I talked to her before they left.” His voice is soft as he looks down at me, and I know he's as humbled by the family as I am. “Dylan looked exhausted, but he said everything was awesome.”
“I think he ran the entire time. Any kid would be tired after a day like that.” I follow his glance over my shoulder; Andrew's walking our way.
“I'm going to head out. I'll talk to you later.” He pivots on his feet, but dips down for a brief hug before getting in his car.
Andrew's gaze follows Scott's car as it pulls away, but then he's in front of me, standing as close as he can without touching, and he looks at me like there's no one else around. “Do you need a ride back to the dorms?”
“No,” I say with regret and nod to my old Toyota. “I drove and I've got to take Rose and Jess back, too.”
“What about later? Can I pick you up?” His fingers brush down my arm with his question.
“Hey,” Jess greets, nudging my other arm as she stands to the side of us. “Rose said she'll meet us at South Street tonight, she's leaving with TJ now.” She turns her smile and chest towards Andrew, but Jessica's chest leads the way wherever she goes and whoever she talks to. “Hi, I'm Jess, I live across from Brook.”
Hustle Page 11