Kyle and TJ are at the bar, heads bowed as they talk, and sparks of unease begin. When Rose slides to TJ's side and he slips her away to the dance floor, frustration flares.
“Are we leaving soon?” I lean into Drew to ask.
He flicks his eyes to me. “Later, like an hour.”
“I'm going to get a drink then.”
“Get me another one.” He nods as I leave his side.
Since he asked me to stay the night, we'd barely talked. His coldness was starting to make me doubt my choice. That brief moment kept me going, though. There’d been emotion there—I didn't understand it, but it had been there—and I wanted to be there for him. Maybe he'd explain when we were alone. But the more I drank, the more I didn't really care, the more I focused on his perfect body and what it could do when we were alone.
I slip next to Kyle and wait for the bartender to notice me.
“You're too short, you'll never get her attention just sitting there.” Kyle glances at me. “You got to lean in, demand to be seen.”
He sighs at my attempt. “I'll get it for you. What do you want?”
“Two Miller Lites, one's for Drew,” I explain at his raised brow.
“Right.” He gets the bartenders attention almost immediately and places our orders.
“So this weekend?” I stretch out the question, unsure.
“It went. Give him till next weekend, and it'll be over.” He doesn't look at me as he speaks but collects the beers the bartender sets out. Then he slides a shot my way and lifts another. “To patience.”
I take a breath and lift the shot he offers, downing it in one quick gulp. It's sweet but leaves a burn after. It has me reaching for my beer.
“You want another one? I've got nothing better to do.”
“Sure.” He sounds miserable, and I sit on the stool next to him. “But be careful, if you're too nice to me it could ruin your reputation,” I try and tease him.
“I just said I had nothing better to do, that wasn't a compliment,” he scoffs but turns to signal the bartender for two more shots. When he turns back around he scans past me, and I don't even have to look to know he's staring at TJ and Rose dancing.
“Do you really like him?” I ask low, heart squeezing for him.
He snatches back the shot he was about to give me. “You know what, fuck you. Quit talking.”
“I'm sorry.” I slide off the stool and he groans.
“No, wait. Fuck.” He stretches out the shot again. “Take it. Just change the subject.”
We take the shot without a toast this time, and as I'm sipping my beer he speaks up.
“It's funny how it works out, but I might be able to actually talk to you. You'd be the only one. Just, not here. Another time.”
“Okay.” I don't know why that makes me happy, like I can befriend a bear. Or maybe it's the alcohol making me ridiculously giddy. “I'd like that.”
“Isn't that for Andrew?” Kyle nods at the extra bottle on the bar.
“Oops, yeah.” I pick it up and step back. “We'll talk later.”
He turns away without saying anything, but it doesn't matter.
I deliver the beer to Andrew and the group he's with is in the middle of a loud conversation. As I try and catch up with it, I spot Tatum and Deena next to Kyle at the bar.
Crap.
Tatum eyes us and waves. I'm not sure if it's to Drew or me, but he nods in return.
My heart stops skipping when he returns to his conversation and she turns to say something to Kyle. Everyone seems to return to normal. Maybe it was an unnecessary moment of panic.
I avoid staring at her and focus my attention back to the table.
“How's someone blow three million in a year? Not even a year.” The littlest guy's voice is a squeak.
“I saw him in Miami before pre-season, he threw one hell of a party, but it was filled with all the hood rats he wanted to get away from. They've sucked him dry,” another player says.
“Nah, he threw money at them, he's a fool who thinks he's a baller,” that little guy speaks again.
“He wanted to take care of his people. You know he's the pride of his town. Maybe he got carried away,” the third guys say.
“Shit. Three million carried away. You're just as stupid as him to defend that.”
“We've all got those people we want to take care of.” The third guy shrugs his round shoulders.
“That's the mistake,” Drew speaks up. “You won't see me making it. I'm not taking any of that baggage with me when I get drafted.”
I listen hard now, heart picking up as the little one glances at me with a grin.
“Yeah right, man, you're not going to make it out of here without some hanger-ons.”
“You'll see.” He swigs his beer.
“No, seriously. We all have someone, and look at that pretty girl by your side. You're saying if you were called up tomorrow, you wouldn't pay for her to come out and see you?”
I wish that little one would shut his big mouth, but at the same time, I want him to keep going. I hang on what the answer will be but dread it all the same.
“First,” he sets his beer down, “I've still got another season until any of that happens.”
I latch onto that. He’s saying we have time.
“But let's just say—” that same one keeps going.
“I'm not promising next week, you think I would promise anyone next year, let alone when I go to the NFL? Fuck that. Everyone knows the deal; I don't hide it. And no one’s changing that, no matter how attractive. Try as they might, I'm not letting anyone ride my shit to make their fortune.”
His words are so cold, but so sure. And they stake me. Everyone's eyes on me are a splinter in the wound. Andrew's the only one not glancing my way. He brings the bottle to his lips and drinks.
And I walk away as the pain in my chest reaches crushing levels and my eyes burn.
I walk through the crowd and out the front door, gulping in the cool night air as I break free.
But I can't take in enough to breathe and my chest shudders with each inhale.
He didn't say anything new. I knew this all already. But the way he said it, to hear it laid out that there wasn’t a chance of a future, not even a sliver. What was I doing wasting my time? To make it worse, he said it in front of me—to a group—laying my stupidity out for all of them to see. And was he implying that I was after money?
Hot tears break free and slide down my face as I cross the street.
“Brook, stop.”
I whip around before he can grab for me.
“You were just going to leave? You agreed to come home with me.”
“Oh my God, you don't even realize how what you said affected me.”
“No, I see it upset you.” He shrugs. “But I don't understand why, unless you really were banking on cashing in on me.”
“How dare you.” I shake my head, stepping backwards as unwanted tears fall in a stream. “You don't have to worry about that. I'm so done.”
He snatches my arm, spinning me around when I turn away. “How dare me? You're the one walking away when you find I'm not going to give you a handout.”
I might get sick. All the liquor in my stomach swishes and sloshes with his verbal kick to the gut.
“Don't touch me.” I try and fail to pull away, only tripping over my feet with the struggle, and he grips me with both hands, it makes me want to scream. “Let me go.”
He drops his hands but follows me as I leave. “Stop and listen to me. Nothing's changed.”
I stop, swiping me tears. “You're right. Nothing's changed, but I finally got the message. There's no future here. And there's no reason for me to put up with this in the hopes that it could be different. I was here for more than fun. You're not the only one that's been saying what they wanted from the start. We both just ignored it. But this was never about money.”
I wait, frozen in the moment, but he doesn't respond, so I walk away.
“I'm
sorry,” he yells after me.
It slows me down, crushing me because it doesn't make a difference.
Then he's at my side. “I'm an ass, I know, I shouldn't have said all that. I've got— Fuck, I've got issues.”
I close my eyes and stop walking, breathless. “We all do.”
“Not like mine.” He gives me a sad smile and shakes his head, but there's still this erratic anger tightening his words, “You might try and understand, but you can't. You've got family, a mom who you see and trust. The one person I have, my grandma, has Alzheimer's and doesn't even remember me, and her son, my Dad, only started coming back around when it was certain I'd make it to the NFL. When you can't even trust your parents, tell me then about how we all have issues.”
“That…” I stop myself from reaching for him, from giving in to the hurt I feel for him. “I'm sorry things are hard.”
The clench of his jaw eases, and he tosses off the bit of raw emotion I thought I saw in him as he grabs my hand. “So now that you understand a bit more, can we leave?”
All the chaos of the night, the hurt, the anger, the desire, the confusion, it crashes to the ground now, and I see with utter clarity. He doesn't see me, he doesn't listen to me. He can't see past his own issues, his selfish needs.
“No,” my voice cracks even though I'm certain. “Your problems don't make this okay. It doesn't excuse how you made me feel tonight.” Cheap and foolish.
He sighs like he needs to find patience to deal with me. “Brook—”
“No, listen.” I'm shaking, feeling the words rise up, but unable to stop them. I can't pull my heart back in, and I want him to see me. “I may not have had your experiences, but I know what it is to be hurt. My sister—” I speak fast, pushing past my constricted throat. “My own sister hates me and made my life hell. She—she started all the rumors and arranged for a group to attack me—” my breath tears and shudders.
“Baby.” He reaches for me but I jump away.
“Stop. I didn't tell you this so you'll feel sorry for me. I told you this so you’ll wake up and realize you're not the only one with problems. You're not the only one with issues. Everyone has something, but they don't use it as an excuse to hurt people. You're not the only one—”
He says something I can't hear as he grabs me, wrapping his arms around me.
And I cry into his chest. I wasn't supposed to be crying.
“Just let me go, leave me alone.” I push at him, but he doesn't fall away until Angel steps between.
“Back off,” she orders.
Jess is at my side. “Are you okay?”
I suck in all my tears with the realization of how bad this must look. “I'm fine. He didn't do anything. I just want to go back to the dorms.”
“Let's go,” Angel says.
“Brook?” Andrew questions but I turn away with a shake of my head.
I walk back to my dorm with Angel and Jess, leaving him behind.
17: Show Up
My gaze wanders as I leave the cafeteria with Rose, but he's not around, and I can't tell if it's disappointment or relief that settles on me.
He’d called a few times after I left last night, until I turned off my phone. The one message he left worried me. His voiced was distant as he yelled 'Fuck,' and then there was some sort of clanging or scuffle before it cut off.
“I know you're hating him right now, but if you happen to see Andrew, tell him I'm not the one calling Tatum. Maybe he can talk some sense into TJ.”
“I don't hate him.” The more I think on it, the more I only feel sad for him. “We want different things, that's all. I doubt I'll be talking to him, though.” I scan around again as we approach the split where Rose and I will separate. Still no Andrew.
“Well if you do. TJ can be so moody. Things were going so well last night, and then she had to show up, and he blames me again. She's so dumb, why does she need to be wherever he is? I don't know how you keep being so civil to her. And now that she's causing trouble with TJ and I. I might not be so nice to her next time I see her.” She puffs out air and waves as she turns down the side path that leads to her class.
I continue on my path, heart gripping with each step, wishing I could stop the heartache I know is to come for her. But it’s better this thing with her and TJ ends.
I make it all the way into my biology lecture hall with no Andrew. I’ve gotten use to him intercepting me on my way, to the point of expecting it. But I settle into my seat now and pull out my notebook, trying to put him behind me.
It’s over. And I need to focus on school.
* * *
Rose's frustration grows since TJ isn’t responding to her texts and calls. After my classes on Wednesday, I hurry back to the dorms so we can go to the mall. She wants new metal for her piercings, a new outfit, and new hairstyle.
But when I open the door and see TJ sitting on her bed, I know those plans will have to wait. She's standing in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. Both of them stare at me in the doorway.
I start to step back and pull the door close to leave them alone again, but he calls out to stop me.
“No, wait.” He rises to his feet and grabs the door to keep it from closing. “What the hell did you do?”
Words dry up and choke me as he towers above me. I shake my head and step away.
He swipes his hand over his lose hair that hangs straight to his shoulders. “Don't go. Have you talked to him?”
“Who?” I hesitate.
“Drew.” His face pinches and he steps back, allowing me to enter my own room. “After you set him off Sunday night, he disappeared. Hasn't even shown at practice. Do you know where he is?”
“He hasn't shown up to practice?” I question slow, trying to process this information. Then it all hits at once, panic and fear. His last message plays in my head, that noise could have been an accident. “When did you last see him? How did he leave? Did he drive? Have you called him?”
“Take it easy. We'll figure it out. He does this sometimes.”
I pause and turn to TJ. “He does this sometimes?”
“Well, never this long. And never before a game.” His shrug is stiff. “He's got some weird habits, usually I see it coming. He barely sleeps, he'll start drinking more, his temper rises, and then he disappears for a day or two and comes back fine. But it's been three days with nothing, and we have a game Saturday.” He pulls his hair back and then let's it drop. “And he broke his phone Sunday night, so there's no calling him. And no one’s seen or heard from him—including Tatum, and she usually knows, but he blew up at her, too. She's the reason he threw his phone, though, because she never knows when enough is enough.”
“What's her problem?” Rose questions. “Why can't she leave him alone?”
Him throwing his phone had to be what I heard on the message, but still a sickening worry burns like poison in my blood. “Did he drive like that?”
“They've had this damn crazy hot and cold thing since they've been here. They both must like it, but it's sick and annoying——”
“Did he drive?” I cut TJ off, not caring about their toxic relationship at the moment. My only concern was Andrew and if he was okay.
“He left in a cab, but when I got home the next morning his car was gone.” He repeats that same stiff shrug. “And no one I've talked to has seen him since. You were my last try.”
My stomach clenches with panic. “We're hospitals called?”
“What? He's done this before, we're not panicking yet.” TJ pats the air with an unconvincing laugh.
He might not be, but I was. “Where would he go before, those other times?”
“He never really said, only that it was somewhere to clear his head and refocus.”
“Q.” I recall Andrew explaining that practicing with him helped him to focus on football. “Have you talked to him?”
“Q? That high school kid that comes around sometimes?” At my nod, he continues, “No, I wouldn't even know how to get a hol
d of him.”
“I might know how. It's worth a try. What time is it?” I drop my book bag on my bed and dig out my keys.
“It's like 3:30,” Rose answers.
Q might be at the school for practice, if not, I'll check his dad's restaurant. It's the only thing I can think to do. “I'll be back.”
“Call if you find out anything,” Rose calls after me.
“And if you see Drew, hit him in the head and drag his ass back here.” TJ holds the door open for me to pass through. “Or call, and I'll do it.”
* * *
I scan the players as I approach the field, they're huddled around a bench, listening to their coach.
With a quick look, my heart drops to my stomach. Andrew’s dark curls is not among the back of heads there. The disappointment turns to a jittery nervousness as I spot Q.
He looks my way as the group disperses, most carrying bags of gear back towards the school, but he jogs my direction. And I fear hearing he doesn't know anything; I fear the last bit of my hope being killed.
“What are you doing here, sweets?” His half questioning grin might mean anything as he steps through the opening in the low chain link fence separating me from the field. “Waiting for our boy?”
“You've seen him? No one else has, I was worried.” Relief floods me as he laughs.
“Yeah, he should be here any minute. He likes to wait till after the other players leave.”
“Oh.” Now that there’s no need to worry, frustration at him returns ten fold. “Well, tell him everyone’s worried and he needs to come back or call.”
“Wait. Don't go yet. Tell him yourself.”
“No—”
“He needs someone to show up for him.” His look is pleading and takes me off guard.
But I recover quickly. “Oh please, he has plenty of people that would show up. They've been looking for him, they just didn't know where to look.”
“But you did.” A slow smile creeps up his face. “There's a reason for that. It may not seem like much, but he's let you in enough that you knew he'd be here. You've come, stick around a few more minutes and show him.”
Hustle Page 20