And the entire time we’re bowling and laughing and flirting with groups of girls, I’m thinking about Red. Thinking about how much I wish she were here. And my heart breaks a little more at the pathetic thought. Damn, I think to myself, I really let this girl affect me when I told myself to not get attached. How the hell did that happen? And how can I reverse it?
Chapter Seventeen
An entire fucking week passes since our night in the motel, and I’ve done my best to not think about it. To not think about her. We made out, she pushed me away, broke my heart. That’s it. I’ve moved past it, past her. If I don’t matter to her, then she doesn’t matter to me. I have never acted this way before, and I won’t let her change that. I’m that guy—charming, laid back, and passionate about art and things bigger than myself. I don’t get glued to one girl because she showed me her back instead of falling for my smile. Just because she’s different doesn’t make her better or so desirable I lose myself. That’s stupid and unethical.
So I paid more attention to Beth and football and my art. I’ve painted more than I have since I first got here. Flirted with Beth without a nagging voice in the back of my head saying I shouldn’t. And I’ve practiced my ass off for tonight’s game—my first game on the team. I’ve prepared myself and formed myself into who I am supposed to be in college. That guy.
“Might not want to stand out here,” Mike says before dragging me into the lockers. A rush of guys wearing the football uniform and helmets storm down the aisle. They woot and cheer about the first game of the year. The energy is high and crackles in the air; I can practically taste it. All the guys are super amped for the first game, and they’re definitely showing it.
“Right. Sorry,” I mumble, tying on my black cleats. My hands fumble a little because of the tiny nerves chewing under my skin. Something about playing in front of that huge crowd makes me shake—anxiety, no matter how ready I appear on the outside. She appears and grabs me by my jersey and jostles me, making me think about puking on the field or making a wrong call. I’ve dealt with her constantly in high school but prevailed each time. Pretty sure I can do the same in college.
“Dude, try not to be a wet wipe.” Ty nudges me harshly, his easy smile broadening. “This is your first game in the big leagues.”
“Thought the NFL was the big leagues,” Mike muses.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ty snaps. “I’m trying to cheer him up.” He does a horrible job of whispering. Seriously. We’re a microscopic foot away from each other.
“I’m fine, guys.” I slip out of Ty’s hold, and they both look at me with raised eyebrows, as if saying, You sure about that? “I really am.” A lie, but they don’t need to know that. I don’t know if they’re referring to the Red situation or my nerves for playing the first time in college. Either way, they need to stop treating me like a nervous baby about to take his first steps.
“Listen, what that Red chick did was messed up,” Ty begins. “But now you have to focus on the game. I mean, at least you got her out your system, right?” He gives me a helpless shrug. So it is about Red, I think bitterly. But at least they care about me. All week, they’ve tried their best to cheer me up: playing video games with me, studying with me, working out together. They’re such great friends. I’m lucky to have them support me.
No. I didn’t. I just got her into my system, then she ejected herself and scrambled away like I meant nothing to her, I want to say, but I don’t because of one thing he said: I have to focus on the game, more than ever. It’s my first college football game, and I want to do good, great even. A lot of people crave these games. It’s their lives…and it should be mine too.
So I eat the words I want to say, flash him a small but bright smile, and tell him, “You’re right. Now, let’s get out there and win this thing.”
Mike claps and woots, sounding just like our teammates. “There we go, Blue Jay!” he screams at the mascot, and I feel my heart do a somersault. Blue Jay…I like the sound of that. In fact, I love it.
A few minutes later, we’re headed out to the field. My heart rumbles and shakes under the vibrating floors. I’m confused and think it’s an earthquake, until we breach the tunnel and bright white lights flood my senses. I stop short in the cluster of my energized teammates, in shock and awe. The entire stadium is packed, with black and blue attendees who cheer and scream at us with overjoyed smiles and clapping hands.
“Dude, come on.” Mike drags me out to our side of the field. The other side is home to the team we’re playing against: Morgan State University, dressed in their orange and navy blue.
The constant screaming of school cheer and bright lights frighten me for a split second before I join my team on the sidelines and go over the game plan. As I stand in the huddled circle and look around at my teammates and their game faces and glance over at the cheerleaders flipping in the air, I feel at home. I feel like I am a part of something.
It is like a whirlwind of flashing lights and cheering all wrapped with an anxiety-filled bow, because before I can even blink, I am on the field in our practiced positions. A hot wire of energy flashes through me, anticipation coursing through my veins as the commotion between team players erupt. Numbers are called, plays are murmured…and the game begins.
As the hour rolls by, I get dirtier and more exhausted. But we’re doing great so far; we’re up by twenty. Halftime is coming up, and I expect to take a seat on the bench for the next string, but Coach gives me an excited look I’ve never seen on his usually stone-cold face. He wants me to play the entire game. And so I do, throwing with more vigor and running faster than ever.
During halftime, I’m out of breath but so pumped, I can’t even sit down and rest on the bench.
“Got something live in your pants, Wells?” Mike jokes as he fills a cup of Gatorade.
“Nope. Just pumped. We’re winning. Did anyone expect that?” I say.
“Uh, me. And it’s because of me,” Tyler gloats and shows off his biceps as a group of cheerleaders walk by. They giggle and wink at him, and he growls at them. Literally.
Mike and I share a laugh.
“You mean it’s because of Noah.” Mike pats my chest and says, “Newbie here is fucking owning the field. Did you see that last throw?” Shaking his head, he sucks down the Gatorade before pointing a finger at me. “Coach did a good job of making you quarterback.”
“Thanks.” I smile genuinely. It’s been so long since I played a game; I forgot how exhilarating it is.
“Yo!” someone says behind me. I turn around and find Ian sauntering over to me with a hard-ass expression.
“Yeah?” I say apprehensively. I hope he doesn’t plan on saying some shit, messing up my energy boost.
He holds up his hands and stops a foot away from me. “Calm down, tiger. I wasn’t gonna tackle you or anything.”
“Okay?”
“I just wanted to say…you’re doing okay so far, for a newbie, I mean.” He clears his throat, and I raise a questioning brow. Did he really just say something nice…about me? Am I dreaming, or has hell frozen over entirely?
“Thanks, man—” I begin with a smirk.
“Only wish Red was around to see her puppy playing with the big boys,” he says with a shit-eating grin. Of course, how could I possibly think he’d have something nice to say without a back-handed comment?
Wait.
“Do you know where Red is?” I ask him slowly, watching for the truth in his smug expression. I can’t help it. I’ve put her out of my mind for a week, but the moment he brought her up…fuckkkk.
“Have no clue.” He finally shrugs, and my heart plummets.
“Great.” I turn and begin to walk away, running a hand over my hair, frustrated, when he says something that makes my blood run cold.
“She didn’t tell me where she went after we fucked. She was in such a rush to come over to see me after dumping your ass in a shitty motel. Tell me, did it feel nice having her suck you off while she was thinking of me?”
I try to hold it in, but I let the convulsing anger take over and storm over to him, getting in his face. “What the fuck did you just say?” I demand through gritted teeth, ignoring my friends urging me to calm down. But I can’t calm down. I can only boil up inside like a god damn furnace.
“You mean: who did I fuck a few hours ago?” His voice is deep and mocking. Teasing. I want to shove it up his ass so far that, when he’s shitting, all that comes out are his fucking screams.
I don’t hesitate to throw my fist in his face after yanking off his helmet. He deflects, pushes my helmet off, and punches me in the jaw. I topple over, dragging him down with me. A crowd gathers around as we go tumbling around, punches thrown sporadically. I get on top of him and throw my fist across his cheek. Blood spurts out of his mouth, and “ooohs” are shouted.
“Hey, get off of him!” I hear Ty scream, but I can’t stop punching him. His eye is swelling; his mouth is split. I keep punching. My hand is bloody, or his face is. I can’t tell. There’s so much, and so much rage. I. Just. Can’t. Stop. It’s like a blood-thirsty parasite I’ve been sedating forever is finally getting a taste and is greedy for more.
“That’s enough, Noah!” Mike screams in my ear, tugging at my raised, bloody fist.
“Wells! Walker!” Coach storms over and pulls me off him like nothing. He shoves at me, then at Ian, who’s chuckling even though blood drips onto his uniform. “Locker rooms! Now! You’re both done for the night.”
Picking my helmet off the floor, I shift my glare to the ground and storm into the locker room. I throw my helmet at my locker, denting it, and scream in frustration. As I drop onto the bench in front of the lockers, I let the tears fall and think, What the hell was I thinking with her?
Chapter Eighteen
Hours have passed since the fight between Ian and me broke out. The anger I felt then has not tamped down in the slightest. In fact, it’s grown to an unreachable high. I’ve left angry voicemails directed toward Red, painted like hell, and locked myself in my room. I’ve snapped whatever boundary in my head that barred me from thinking of her and what happened and lost it.
Subjected to the dark, staring at the ceiling, I think, How could she do that to me? I ignored all the warnings about Red Sylvetti because I thought she was better than the caution sign people slapped on her name. But seeing how she did this, I understand the warnings.
A small part of me begs to not trust Ian. He’s an asshole who doesn’t seem to refrain from spewing pure bullshit. But I just keep picturing her waking up in the middle of the night and realizing the mistake she made, hooking up with a frat boy. Like she doesn’t at least know me as more than some stupid, nonsensical title.
She probably thought about losing her “badass” title and hightailed it to the asshole’s crevice to erase me from her memory.
A small knock at the door followed by a “Noah?” brings me out of my thoughts. I take a deep breath, ready to curse out whoever the drunk person is. A party is currently being thrown downstairs to celebrate us winning the game. Every time I think about it, I get even angrier at myself because I let my anger get the best of me and got benched. It makes me want to punch something.
But I end up pulling out my sketchpad and sketch my bruised hand that hasn’t been attended to. None of my injuries have been looked after, actually. Rachel tried to help me despite the fact that I got in a serious fight with her step-brother. The girl is ultra-sweet; her brother and I are undeserving of her. I bet it’s her on the other side of the door, which makes me try to tune out her small, worried voice and light knocking. I don’t deserve to have her by my side. I ignored her warnings about Red. I deserve to sit here in the dark and sulk like the idiot person I am.
Hearing her sigh and her head fall against the door, she whispers, “Please open the door; I want to help you.”
“Go away, Rachel.” It hurts me to say it, but she needs to stop. I didn’t listen to her because I thought Red was different. I got into this mess my damn self.
A sharp click and some jiggling makes me freeze. The door opens, and Ty, holding the key to our room, laughs nervously before running away.
“Thanks, Ty!” Rachel waves after the boy.
“Fucking Ty,” I mutter, leaning my head against the wall, returning my gaze and attention to my sketchpad. Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll go away. But of course, being the sweet, innocuous girl she is, she sits beside my feet and taps my knee. “Please don’t say I told you so.”
“I would never,” she says, slightly offended. When I slowly look up at her, she’s frowning with pouty lips, big eyes flapping softly. “Just let me help you, then I’ll leave.” She takes a deep breath and says, “My brother can be an…”
“Ass,” I assist with a smile.
She chuckles and nods to herself, as if committing it to memory. Then she sears me with those big brown eyes and continues, “He was probably lying…or not. Either way, Red isn’t that trustworthy of a person. She left you in Greendale when you barely know this state.” Taking another breath, she takes my less injured hand. “But you trusted her and put your faith in her; you can’t be upset about that. It’s honorable and, honestly, really cute.”
I assess her words, flipping them in my head. She’s kind of right. I can’t give Ian all the credit; Red left me without a note, text—anything. But she just…left. The waiting wasn’t as bad as thinking she was going to pull up with a box of donuts or something. God. I sound like such a pussy. She turned me into a god damn pussy. I just thought she was different. I saw something different. Then again, the Devil can easily deceive anyone with an angelic smile.
“So will you let me help you?” Rachel squeezes my hand, taking my silence for an agreement.
A part of me is nagging me, telling me to just wait…and that’s it.
Wait for what? I think with a short laugh. There’s no use in waiting if she’s already made up her mind.
“Yes,” I answer Rachel, squeezing her hand back.
With a gleeful smile and shining eyes like I gave her the moon, she rushes into the bathroom. My stomach tightens, and that voice screams at me to wait. I push it away and lock it in the corner of my mind. A few seconds later, Rachel returns with a first aid kit. She pops it open and gets to work. Each rub of alcohol feels like a bee sting, but her sweet words soothe it a little bit. After some time, my hands are bandaged, the cut on my left cheek has a Band-Aid, and I’m in the kitchen with a pack of peas wrapped in a dish cloth on my bruised cheek.
“How long do I have to hold it here?” I ask Rachel gingerly, pressing the pack a little tighter. It feels like someone ran a tractor over my face, then backed up and stayed extra-long on my cheek.
“For twenty minutes,” she tells me, biting her lip as she eyes me. She looks in pain just from watching me grimace. I try to give her an assuring smile, but the pain elicits a groan instead, worsening her worry. “You should get some rest. Sleep it off.”
“No, no—I’m fine,” I tell her. I won’t be able to sleep, anyway. The party’s getting bigger and louder. “Just—tell me Ian looks worse.”
Her smile is contagious, but I keep mine on the inside to avoid pain. “He looks like he fell off Mount Everest…twice. You really got him good. Sure you’re not a fighter in your spare time?”
I laugh, shaking my head gently. “I don’t have the best stomach for blood. But I feel even better knowing that prick’s in pain…that’s not nice, and he’s your brother. Sorry.”
She squeezes my forearm. “Trust me, he deserved it. I can’t believe he would say something like that, do something like that.” She pauses and leans against me. “Just shows that people can be cruel for no reason but to hurt others.”
“How did you grow up with him?”
“Didn’t—not really, at least. His dad married my mom when I was twelve. You think this is bad? You should have been there when he ‘accidentally’ locked me out of the house for two hours.”
“Oh, you poor thing,” I t
ease, pinching her arm.
“Ouch! Wanna injure me too?” She laughs and pinches me in the stomach.
I throw my head back in laughter. But I slow down when I feel eyes burning through me. Looking around the room for the source of the glare, my heart thumps a thousand extra beats. Finally, I find the source and do a triple take.
Red.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asks me, squeezing my bicep.
“Nothing.” I turn to her and put all my focus on her. I have to focus on something other than the girl whose presence beckons me like a siren. Every drop of me—directed to her. To hold her, hear her laugh, kiss her lips… “Nothing is wrong.”
Rachel’s lips twitch slightly, and she leans forward a bit. “Really? Because you seem different than a few seconds ago—”
“Prep.” I feel her before I hear her. I stiffen, and Rachel frowns, then turns to the girl I am trying my absolute best to ignore. “What? You’re not gonna disappoint your mommy and daddy’s rules about manners and ignore me, are you?” I hear the smirk in her voice, and my blood boils.
“You wanna go outside, Rachel?” I grab her hand and guide her out without a response. When we’re among chatty people smoking who knows what, I sigh and tell her, “I’m sorry about that. About her.”
“It’s fine. I just didn’t think she’d have the guts to come here.” I sense annoyance and anger laced in her soft tone.
“Oh, she has the guts to do whatever she pleases.” I throw a glare over my shoulder. I freeze, meeting her glaring at me. At us. If I didn’t know any better, I would think she’s…jealous. But what does that make me upon hearing she left me to be with a douchebag like Ian? Rolling my eyes, I face the pool and a string of memories of her and me… “Fuck,” I groan, rubbing my eyes.
“Noah…” Rachel says, reaching for my hand. But I pull away before she can and watch her face melt.
Red: Burning Desire (Spectrum Series Book 7) Page 12