ENEMIES

by Tijan

  I kissed him.

  I silenced him this time.

  It was me. It was my turn.

  I didn’t hide. I let him see me. I let him feel me, and he was right. We were done with that. Then he tugged me down on his lap, and he rolled us over on the bed. When we fell asleep, he was still holding me and it was perfect.

  Chapter Forty

  STONE

  I sat on the edge of the bed the next morning, actually just five hours later.

  I needed to go. I needed to go to my home, start my day. I needed to head to the stadium. I needed to get ready. We had a game tonight, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t leave. My ass wouldn’t leave that fucking bed and I couldn’t stop watching her.

  She needed sleep. Not me. I was fucking wired.

  This asshole, some asshole, hurt my girl.

  Because that’s what she was. Mine.

  She was no one else’s and I should’ve shut that shit down long ago. I knew why she walked. I got it, and a part of me wondered if she was doing the right thing, but fuck that. No more. I was done staying away. I was done keeping quiet and not making her talk. We needed to talk. Talking. Shit. We barely talked. We fought, then we went to bed. That’s how we communicated, and I was trying to tell her all the ways I cared for her. I needed to show her, not just say the words, but she was asleep and I had to leave and do my job.

  Except I couldn’t make myself leave her room. I couldn’t even get off the bed, and I needed to get off the bed. I’d be fined so damn much money if I didn’t show, but every cell in my body was screaming at me to curl back in her bed, pull her into my arms, and never let her go.

  Never ever let her go again.

  But, shit. I raked a hand through my hair.

  I couldn’t do that. I was a professional. We played through everything. Wind, sleet, rain, pain, blood. We showed up. We played. We dominated.

  He was dead. I was trying to tell myself. She was safe. I could leave, do my job, and scoop her back in my arms afterwards. Her. Me. Our bed. Yeah. It wasn’t my bed anymore. It was ours. She just didn’t know it.

  Shit. Shit!

  I had to go. I had to, but God, I didn’t want to go.

  Moving around the room, I went to wash up before dressing, but I wasn’t going out her side way. Hell no. I went the other way, not expecting anyone to be up. I’d been in college, but I hadn’t partied like these guys. I rarely partied. I footballed. That was it. I did football, and if I wasn’t footballing, I was training to football or thinking about footballing. Football was my life. These guys, they were different. They were more normal. If they were planning on pro, they had one last year to get their shit together. But that wasn’t my issue.

  Going up to the kitchen, I hadn’t expected anyone to be up.

  Someone was up.

  A girl was at the counter making toast. She turned, yawning, but seeing me, she shrieked. “Oh, my Jesus!” She pressed a hand to her heart, giving me a shaky smile. “I wasn’t expecting a guy, and then it’s a guy, but it’s not just any guy, it’s you, and yeah. Still getting used to seeing you around here.”

  She was the nice one, the one Dusty liked. I was trying to remember her name.

  “Nicole?”

  “Yeah. Hi.” The toast popped up and she took one, waving at me before putting it on the plate and reaching for the butter. “I suppose you’re on your way out? How’s our girl doing downstairs? She seemed tired last night. I mean, more than usual considering how much she’s working.”

  I had started to walk past her, letting her talk, but hearing the last few words, I paused.

  The girl was still rambling, her back to me, still buttering her toast. “Between you and me, I worry about her. She’s not gotten a car and she doesn’t think we notice, but she’s walking back and forth from campus. That means she’s walking after her shifts, but she’s got some hang-up about asking for help. I don’t get it, but she’s prideful. So, yeah. My uncle has a car in the garage. There’s no insurance on it, but I was thinking I could ask him to get some and she could drive that. We could say it’s the house’s vehicle, but poof—like magic—it’s always available only for her.” She turned, the toast done on her plate. “What do you think?” She was smiling at me.

  She took one look at me and that smile was wiped clean.

  I was barely keeping my shit together as it was, and now to know this.

  She’d been walking. No, fuck that. She was working. A lot, from what this one was saying, and she was walking?

  I grated out, “How far is campus from here?”

  She swallowed, getting with the program and cluing in how close to the edge I was. “Her job is four blocks away. I think she cuts through somewhere, maybe a side alley, so it might be less. I’m not sure.”

  Fuck that. Fuck this girl. Fuck her fucking roommates. And fuck me, for letting her go when I knew I shouldn’t have.

  Fuck. Just fuck.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  Another swallow before her head bobbed down. “Uh. A week? No. More than that, I think. Maybe two?”

  “You don’t know?” I ground that out.

  “No. I’m sorry.”

  I was gone. Dusty was going to have a car in her spot by the end of the day and before then, Morpheus would be on her curb. If she walked, he would follow. I didn’t give a flying fuck how pissed she might be about that.

  She had had a goddamn stalker.

  My thoughts went rampant thinking about that piece of shit. I wanted to find him again, murder him with my bare hands and stuff his desecrated bones back into the ground, and I wanted to repeat that process all over again. Over and over and over until I got justice for Dusty.

  I had no clue, no fucking idea.

  A stalker. A goddamn motherfucking stalker.

  If I’d known, shit. I would’ve wanted to go at him, wrap my hands around his throat, but fuck. I couldn’t go back in time. The piece of shit was dead, but I could go forward, and I interrupted the nice roommate. She was still talking.

  “Where’s Witkerson?”

  She’d been pouring orange juice into a glass, and at my growl, she jumped. Juice spilled all over the counter, but flinching, she swung those wide eyes to me. “Uh. What?”

  “Noel. Witkerson. Your school’s QB 1. Where is he? I know he sleeps here.”

  “Oh.” She was flustered, her cheeks getting red. “Savannah’s room is upstairs on the right, but…”

  Yeah. Yeah. Don’t go up there. They’re sleeping. She didn’t know I didn’t give a shit.

  I stalked up the stairs, lined up there were two bedrooms and I saw the bathroom door open. I went to the right and I didn’t give ’em an option. I was hoping they weren’t going at it—but I’d seen that shit before, so no big deal—because I flung the door open.

  The girl screamed.

  Witkerson jumped out of bed, wild and panicked, but saw it was me and he swore, grabbing for a pillow to cover his nuts. He remembered we both spent most of our lives in football locker rooms and dropped the pillow. Crawling back in bed, he lay back down. “Tell me this is fucking important, man. You’re interrupting my sleep time and my time with my girl.”

  “She had a stalker.”

  “What?!” the girl squawked, bolting upright.

  She had a shirt on. Thank God. I didn’t want to see her girls. Any normal day before today, I might’ve looked if they were presented to me because fuck, I’m a guy…but not this day.

  “It’s why she came down here. A stalker.”

  The QB 1 sat up, suddenly all serious and yeah, he better be.

  I clipped my head at him. “You’re here. You’re here when I can’t be. That piece of shit is dead, but there might be others. Her name, her face, it’s getting out there. And she’s mine. I ain’t keeping quiet about that anymore. She’s going to get more attention, more focus, and that brings haters. Bitch catty women and dirty perv assholes. Sick fucks, too. She and I haven’t talked, she doesn’t know the le
ngths I’m going to, but I’m going to them. If she stays here, and if she chooses, I’ll be here most nights, but I’m going to try to get her to my house. But if she stays, you’re on duty. Got it?”

  “Wait.” The girl was looking between us.

  The QB nodded. “Got it.”

  “What is going on here?”

  “Good. I’ll have a guy parked out front all day. He’s her ride. She ain’t walking anywhere alone today and tonight. There’ll be a car of her own here by end of the day.” I bit out and turned for the door. “I got a game, then I’ll be back to either sleep here or collect her for my place.”

  The girlfriend jumped up in bed, but I had turned already. Caught the movement out of the corner of my eyes, glimpsed something white on her legs and figured she had pants on, too. Again. Not caring. This was today, not yesterday, not a month ago. Things were different today. Everything was different. I was staking my claim and I wasn’t going away. Hell to the fuck no.

  I pounded the doorframe. “See you later. Remember what I said…watch her.”

  And because there was an unwritten guy code and my job was to pick on the younger bucks, I pounded on the other door. “Don’t forget to pull out, Harrington!”

  There was a scream in there, too, and then from him, “Shut up!” He groaned. “I was fucking sleeping, douche.”

  I pounded the door a second time, laughing, then I was down the stairs and out the front door. I had a block to walk to my Jeep and a game to get ready for.

  Chapter Forty-One

  STILL STONE

  I was jacked. I was hyped. I was ready to tear heads off bodies.

  Morpheus was currently camped out on Dusty’s street. He was given orders to grow roots if he needed, and if she walked somewhere and refused the ride, he was supposed to be her personal shadow. And I had a call in to my manager. A brand new Honda HR-V would be parked in her spot by tonight, and the keys were getting hand delivered to her door. I texted with her and found out her plans were to study at the house. Perfect. She said her roommates weren’t having a party, so it’d just be the girls, their guys, and my girl all watching my game. I told her to wait for me that night. I was coming for her.

  Her response:

  Dusty Girl: Ready and waiting.

  That made me laugh, but onto the game. I had a job to do.

  We were in the locker room, music blaring in our headphones. Russ, his Flute song, was blaring in my ears, and I was there. I was on the field. I was running, dodging, losing the other motherfuckers. The ball was mine. It was coming right for me.

  It was another extension of my body, just no one else knew.

  That was my job. I’d teach them. I’d school the fuckers. They’d know by the end of the game, each time I ran into the end zone and not once, twice, three times. Four. Five. I’d keep going all day long, all night long. I could score in my sleep and pity to the fools who didn’t believe in me. They’d be schooled real quick.

  “Yo.” A hand appeared in front of me.

  I reached up, meeting it with mine, and Colby was there, pulling me up to my feet.

  We were in this together.

  This game. Him and me. There’s nothing like the dynamic between the guy who throws the ball and the guy who can catch it, especially when no one else can catch him. That was me. That was what I got paid to do. We were going to go show everyone again, because you know, they all needed reminding.

  His eyes were ready.

  He was amped up.

  So was I.

  We go out and we win. We got paid to do this shit, and after the coach had his say, after we ran to the field, after the anthem, the coin toss, the kickoff—it was my turn.

  Colby came up to me on the field. His fist to mine. “You ready?”

  I gave him a nod back. Fuck yeah, I was ready. I was salivating over getting out there, doing my thing.

  He grinned, reading me right. “You’re in a mood today.”

  Another cocky smirk from me. Fuck yes, I was. I was gonna score here. I was gonna win here. Then I was going home to get my woman. But all I did was tell him, “Throw it to me. They won’t expect a long throw to me on the first play. And trust me, they won’t be able to catch me tonight.”

  He studied me a second longer, then nodding. “Okay. Yeah. I’m seeing that. Let’s do this.”

  He called the play as we were lining up. Everyone knew. I didn’t have the headphones any longer, but that music was with me. It was in my head and I tuned into it, remembering it, and I envisioned how this play would go.

  Ball was snapped and I was off.

  Pumping.

  Running.

  Lighting up the field.

  Then I was right there, right on target, and Colby had already seen it all. The ball was in the air, and holding back, reading that—yes, yes, yes. It was right on point. I kicked off more speed, saw three players heading for me. Saw two of mine coming to cover, and with a quick spin, I was around one guy and going full force.

  The ball sailed, so pretty, and it was a perfect play.

  A perfect throw.

  I didn’t have to jump, move, none of that shit. I just ran and that ball fell into my arms. I was cradling it like a baby as my foot came down in the end zone.

  That was our first score.

  There was no celebration. I was doing my job.

  I tossed the ball to the ref, ran to the side and pointed at Colby, who was running diagonally with me. “That was the first one.”

  He dipped his head. He knew my mood. He knew what to be prepared for this game. It was the first of many. He said, “Got it. My arm’s ready. You be ready.”

  There wasn’t even a question. I’d been born to do this shit.

  All night long, I be scoring. All night long, I be winning. All night long, because I was Stone The Rampage Reeves.

  Tonight was a Rampage Game.

  DUSTY

  “Stone Reeves is on a Rampage tonight.” The announcer was excited, smiling wide, turned to the other announcer with him. Both in their suits, with the crowd cheering behind and beneath them. “I love these nights. We don’t get them all the time, but every now and then…”

  The other announcer finished for him, smiling just as big, “Every now and then we get a treat to watch Stone The Rampage Reeves perform, because that’s what he’s doing tonight. He’s performing. He’s giving us a show.”

  “He is, indeed, and it’s a pleasure to watch.”

  They kept on, moving to talk about Colby and how the two together were magic, but we were at halftime and my stomach was growling.

  Nicole heard, sitting next to me. “You know, we did order pizza.”

  It wasn’t the first hint she gave me that night, but I couldn’t eat. Everyone was being so nice. They hadn’t invited anyone extra for the game, saying it was just the roommates and the guys, which translated into Dent, Nacho, Wyatt, and Noel. They hadn’t asked me to cook, but I almost wished they had.

  My stomach was in knots. All I could feel was dread.

  What would I do if they talked about me during the game? It was so unlikely, but that article got traction and it’d been building. Every now and then, they might gossip a bit about the player’s personal lives, and especially if it spread into the legal aspects of the law. I didn’t think they would, but you just never knew. And because of that, I hadn’t wanted to watch the game, but I also couldn’t not watch the game. Stone came over. I didn’t even know if he slept after I finally passed out, but last night had been different. I felt it.

  He knew everything.

  Everyone would also know everything.

  It was all out, no reason for secrets. I had nothing else to hide and Stone stayed. He remained next to me until he had to leave for his game.

  I was giving in. It was Stone. It was all Stone. I was in love with him. I refrained from spilling those words last night, but it’d been so hard. I had to bite down on my lips. I drew blood.

  But tonight, those words would come out
because I knew what was going to happen.

  Stone was coming for me.

  I had a bag packed. I wasn’t going to make him stay here. I didn’t want to stay here myself, not tonight. Tonight was special. Tonight was different. We’d go to his house and we’d make love. I would take care of my man, but those words, they’d come out.

  I would have to see what his reaction would be then, but I just knew that I was done hiding. I couldn’t anymore.

  All the shit was coming out tonight. Let’s hope I didn’t have another loss tomorrow to get over, because I didn’t think I could. Not this time. There was no walking away, or moving on, or just dealing. I’d be shattered forever. The question was if I was lining up my own undoing or not.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  DUSTY GIRL

  I was curled up on the couch, in the corner, hugging a pillow, when Wyatt switched the television to watch the extras on the NFL channel. He turned it to the press conference section, and after a bit, the Kings’ head coach, Stone, and Colby walked in, then sat behind a table.

  The first question was to the coach. How’d he feel the team did, considering they blew the other team away with a thirty-eight to seven score.

  Second question was to Colby: What did he do to prepare for tonight’s game?

  The next was to Stone, a similar question, and they each answered a few more before it happened.

  They all seemed at ease. Stone kept his head down, leaning forward. Colby was the opposite, head up but leaning back. The coach was forward and head up. He was meeting the questions head on, and then the last question.

  “Stone, going forward into the next week and preparing for the Horns, do you think you’ll be distracted with the reports of your girlfriend’s stalker? And how is she doing?”

  Stone’s head whipped up, and he was pissed.

  Not pissed. Furious. Livid.