Her eyes darkened.
“I’ll try, okay?” she murmured, watching me suck her finger.
I had to think about what she was even talking about. In my mind, there was no conversation anymore. My body had taken over.
Oh. Right. The shower.
I released her finger slowly and nodded. “That’s good enough for me.”
I led her the rest of the way across the snowy ground.
I knew she’d be fine in the shower.
After all, I’d be in there with her.
No one could resist a naked Romeo. Not even fear.
Chapter Thirteen
Rimmel
Less than twenty-four hours after the report from the computer guy arrived, the dean reinstated my scholarship. My probation was lifted, and I was told to start attending classes again.
I missed about two weeks of classes, and the dean waived all the assignments I’d missed. He explained I shouldn’t have to make up work I’d missed through no fault of my own. Of course, I was still going to have to play catch-up. The finals at the end of the semester, hell, even the midterms would cover things I missed.
On one hand, I was glad to be back to my regular routine. It helped things feel more normal.
On the other hand, I worried how well I was going to be able to maintain my high average during a time when everything was most certainly not normal.
Romeo and I talked to the police again about everything that happened on the field. We gave our official statements and were prepped by Tony on what would happen in the closed hearing involving Zach.
It should have been over by now, but the date was pushed back. Apparently, the person called in to evaluate Zach’s mental health needed more time.
I didn’t think it was a very good thing that a psychologist needed extra time to figure out what was wrong with him, but I kept that little opinion to myself.
Even though Romeo and I didn’t talk about Zach or what happened that night, word still got around campus. No one directly asked me what happened, but the gigantic bruise on my face pretty much summed it up. It was beginning to turn an ugly yellow shade, but the swelling was gone.
It’d been almost a week since the incident with Zach, and I still hadn’t spoken to my father. It was making me increasingly agitated. It wasn’t so unusual for me to go this long without speaking with him. Sometimes when classes were really busy, I only called on the weekends. But I’d left messages. I’d gotten a new phone. He never called me back.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me suspicious.
And for that, I felt guilty.
But the seed of doubt had been planted, and my father’s lack of communication only watered that seed, so it began to grow.
After a full day of classes, walking around campus in the freezing cold, and then spending my afternoon (and dinner) in the library catching up, I finally trudged up the steps to my dorm. I was tired and stressed. I felt like I could sleep for a week.
Ivy was sitting at her desk when I walked in, her back turned as she stared at her laptop. A pair of white earbuds were stuck in her ears and the cord was connected to the computer. I dropped my bag on the floor and kicked off my boots.
Ivy heard and glanced over her shoulder. “Hey,” she said, her voice a little loud. She hit a button on the laptop and pulled out the earbuds and dropped them on the desk.
“You missed dinner,” she said.
“I ate a granola bar in the library.” I made a face to show how thrilled I was about it. Then I spun and let my body fall onto my bed, back first. My loud groan filled the room.
Ivy gasped. “Could it be?” she said, all dramatic like. “Are you—the most studious girl I know—getting tired of studying?”
I turned my head and tried to mirror her dramatic tone. “Are you—the most UN-studious girl I know—sitting there studying? On a Friday night?”
Before she could say anything, I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead.
“Have we entered the twilight zone?” I cried.
Ivy grinned at me and leaned so I could see her laptop screen. “Hell no, I’m not studying. I’m watching a makeup tutorial on YouTube.”
I laughed.
“This girl has some good tips,” she said seriously.
“All is right with the world, then.”
Ivy turned her chair so she faced me. “They set a new hearing date for Zach?”
She knew everything that was going on, everything that happened, even the stuff Valerie said about my dad. It was nice to have someone to confide in. Someone I could talk to about it all. Romeo was always there for me, but sometimes a girl just needed another girl—a friend—to talk to.
“Not yet. Tony thinks they’ll call Monday with a firm date.”
“What do you think is wrong with him?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “But I hope they figure it out, because Zach is seriously messed up.”
She moaned. “I can’t believe I slept with him.” The blond bun on top of her head bounced when she shook her head vigorously. “I don’t know what the hell they were serving at that party that night, but it must have been potent because I never would have touched him if I had even an ounce of sobriety in me.”
I frowned. Ivy was a lot of things—a slacker when it came to school work, a clothes hog, a girl who liked to party—and she definitely wasn’t innocent, but sleeping with Zach was absolutely not something I could picture her doing.
“How much did you drink that night?” I asked, concerned.
A look of concentration came over her face and then her eyes clouded over. “I really don’t remember.” She glanced up. “I really didn’t think it was anything more than my usual. But, man, it seemed to hit me hard. ‘Course, I had no idea what was in the punch we were drinking.”
“Was everyone else as drunk as you?”
“Probably.” She shrugged.
“Was Missy? Did she go home with anyone?”
Ivy snorted. “No. She’s still hung up on Braeden.”
I felt my eyes widen. “She is?”
“I think she is. She hasn’t dated very much since coming back from break. She really did like him.” Ivy made a face and muttered, “Although, I have no idea why.”
“She hasn’t been around much lately,” I said. I felt bad I was just noticing.
“She’s been around. You just haven’t been.”
“I’ve been a crappy friend.”
Ivy shook her head quickly. “Are you kidding? Your life is like a soap opera. I couldn’t even make up half the stuff that’s happened you lately. You’ve had a lot on your plate.”
Still. I should have been a better friend. I sat up as an idea came to me. “Call Missy. See if she wants to hang out tonight. We can watch movies or something.”
“Girls’ night? I like it.” Then she lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you have plans with Romeo?”
“He can hang with Braeden. It’s just one night.”
“Hos over bros!” Ivy quipped and grabbed up her cell.
“That sounds like something B would say.” I teased her.
“I think I just threw up in my mouth.” She made a gagging sound.
I laughed. “Call Missy. I’m just going to try my dad again before we hang out.”
She nodded and tapped the screen on her phone a couple times as she walked toward the door. “I’ll be right back. I drank a giant Diet Coke earlier.”
I waved her off and dialed my dad. The light mood brought on by the idea of having a girls’ night began to fade the longer the phone call went unanswered. When his voicemail came on, I sort of lost it.
“Hey, you’ve reached Brock. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks.”
BEEP.
“Dad. It’s me. I’ve been calling you all week and you haven’t called me back. I’m starting to worry… And I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but I was attacked last week. I was in the hospital.” The words just tumbled out before I
could stop them.
The truth was I was angry. How could he just ignore his own daughter? So I gave him something he couldn’t ignore. “Just call me back, okay?”
After a heartbeat, some of my anger faded. “Bye.”
I tossed the phone on the end of the bed with a sigh. Maybe I should call my grandmother. Ask her to go over there and check on him.
Yeah. That’s what I’d do.
I snatched up my phone just as it began ringing.
It was my dad.
So I guess my annoyed message got through.
“Hello?” I said into the line.
“Rimmel, honey? Are you okay? Oh God, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” The panic and regret in his voice fought against each other, making him sound slightly desperate and also a little crazed. “This is all my fault,” he bemoaned.
His words struck something in me. That was an odd thing to say. “Why would it be your fault?”
“Tell me you’re okay? What happened?” He was insistent.
“There’s this guy on campus who hates Romeo,” I said. “He, uh, he attacked me the other night because he wanted to get to him.”
“This is your boyfriend’s fault?”
Why did his voice sound so bewildered?
“Sir, would you like another?” a feminine voice asked in the background.
“Yes, please,” Dad told her.
“On the rocks?” she asked.
Was he drinking? Where was he?
“Dad?” I said. “Where are you?”
“Sorry, honey. I’m just out grabbing a bite to eat. That was the waitress.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Your message said you were in the hospital?” he asked.
Ivy entered the room and gave me a thumbs-up and a smile. I assumed that meant Missy was on her way over.
“Yeah, but not overnight or anything. Mostly I was there because Romeo broke his arm.”
“He was involved in this?”
“He came to help me and he was hurt.”
There was a lot of background noise wherever Dad was. It sure was a loud restaurant.
“So you’re okay, then?” Dad asked. “How bad were you hurt?”
“I’m fine now.”
Ivy was digging through her clothes, and I hoped that didn’t mean girls’ night was something I had to dress up for.
“Thank God,” he said. “Your message scared me half to death.”
“Why didn’t you call me back?” I asked abruptly.
“Honey, I didn’t get your messages. There must be something wrong with this phone. I think it must be time for an upgrade.”
“You didn’t get any of my messages?” I asked, confused.
“Not until right now. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.” His voice sounded pained.
“It’s okay, Dad. I was just getting worried.”
“No need to worry about me. I’m doing just fine.”
“How’s work?” I asked abruptly.
“Busy as usual,” he said. “We’re gearing up for the spring rush.”
I was about to ask him about my insurance card and why it had been denied when some noise erupted in the background. People were cheering and some kind of music was playing.
“Honey, my food just got here. I’m gonna let you go so I can eat before it goes cold. You know how I hate cold mashed potatoes. But I’ll call you back when I finish, okay?”
“Yeah, okay,” I echoed. If he heard the surprise in my voice, he didn’t let on.
In fact, he disconnected the call without so much as a good-bye.
I held the phone out from my ear and looked at the screen in shock.
“Is everything okay?” Ivy asked.
“I’m not sure,” I whispered.
There was a knock at the door and it opened. “Girls’ night!” Missy sang, bouncing into the room.
“Girl, you look too good to not be seen.” Ivy snapped her fingers, and Missy struck a pose.
She did look great in a pair of skintight black jeans with bright-blue high heels and a white blouse with silver-studded cap sleeves. In her hand she was carrying a bright-red coat.
“We should totally go out,” Missy replied, running her fingers through her straight, sleek hair.
“Yes!” Ivy shrieked.
“We can go to that new club that just opened, the one near campus.”
They wanted to go to a club? Like where people went to dance and drink?
*Gulp*
“I thought we were watching a movie?” I said.
“We’re in college,” Ivy said. “We’re supposed to be going out, having fun.” She glanced at Missy. “I hear Screamerz is supposed to be amazing.”
It was called Screamerz?
*Double gulp*
“I’m excited!” Missy said, clapping.
“You two just go without me,” I said.
“No,” they both said at the same time.
“Missy, find her something to wear while I get dressed,” Ivy instructed. Missy started going through my drawers, on a mission.
I bit my lower lip. “Clubs aren’t really my thing.”
“Football players weren’t either, and look how well that turned out,” Ivy said, a teasing light in her eyes.
“Ha. Ha.”
“C’mon, Rimmel. It’ll be fun. Weren’t you just collapsing over there under all the pressure and drama your life has been lately? It’s Friday. You already studied until your eyes bled. Your life is a disaster, and from the look on your face just now, I say you could probably use a drink.”
“The way you just summarized my life makes me want a drink,” I muttered.
Ivy took that as agreement and shrieked, “Girls’ night!”
What the heck did I just get myself into?
Chapter Fourteen
Romeo
I’M HAVING A GIRLS’ NIGHT TONIGHT
I smiled when I read Rim’s text. I could almost hear her enthusiasm (or lack thereof) through the phone.
BUT I’M NOT A GIRL
WELL THAT’S GOOD NEWS. I WAS STARTING TO WONDER
WOMAN, ARE YOU QUESTIONING MY MANHOOD?
YES. MAYBE YOU SHOULD COME GET ME RIGHT NOW AND GIVE ME A LESSON.
I laughed out loud and wiped a bead of sweat off my forehead.
GIRLS’ NIGHT THAT SCARY?
THEY’RE MAKING ME GO TO A PLACE CALLED SCREAMERZ.
My hand tightened around the phone. Screamerz was the new eighteen and over club near campus. I’d heard it could get pretty rowdy there. I hadn’t been yet because I’d been too busy with football and now training. I wasn’t sure how I felt about Rim going there. Without me.
THAT’S A NIGHT CLUB
HERE I THOUGHT IT WAS A BOOK CLUB
RIM…
I hoped those three little dots showed the warning in my tone.
YOU GONNA MAKE ME SLEEP ALONE TONIGHT?
THAT’S MY LINE
I groaned. Damn if that little hashtag heart didn’t make me forget she was trying to sweet talk me.
From down the field, Braeden yelled, “Yo, Rome. We doing this?”
I’LL FIND YOU LATER. BEHAVE.
;)
Why did that little winky face make me remember why I had a bad feeling about this?
I gripped the football and threw in down the field toward Braeden. It was a shitty throw. ‘Course all my throws this week were shitty.
But what else can you expect when a right-handed quarterback starts training to be a left-handed quarterback?
“You tired?” B yelled.
“Rimmel’s having girls’ night at Screamerz tonight,” I told him.
“Guess we’re going to Screamerz.”
I grinned. “You read my mind.”
“I’ll call the team. They can meet us there. We’ll have a guys’ night.”
I picked up another football out of the giant basket next to me. Braeden lifted his hands like he was ready to catch it. “Right here,” he said, motioning.<
br />
I’d yet to throw him a solid pass, and we’d been working on this for days. It was frustrating as hell.
But I wasn’t about to give up.
And I wasn’t about to sit around on my ass and wait for my arm to heal while the NFL went and knocked on someone else’s door.
If my right arm was out of commission, then my left one would pick up the slack. And when my right arm got better, I’d be an ambidextrous quarterback. It would only make me a better player. Learning how to throw from the opposite side of my body was sort of like learning how to ride a bike. The skill was there; I just needed to learn to master it.
I didn’t mind the hard work, and doing this was better than sitting around while my muscles got soft and my endurance went downhill. I couldn’t run, so I moved an elliptical into my gym (doctor okayed it). I couldn’t lift or really focus on upper body, so I’d been hitting legs hard.
I did the exercises recommended by the team doctor, and I had an appointment with the orthopedic specialist on Monday and a physical therapist on Tuesday. I couldn’t start therapy on my arm ‘til it was healed, but I wanted to know everything I could be doing until then.
I refocused on Braeden, on the center of his body. My mind shut down all other thought: the stress about my career, the fight I was in to hone my body to perform… and yeah, the image of Rimmel at Screamerz. None of that mattered right then. It was me and the ball.
I concentrated on the way it felt beneath my hands and the breath filtering into my lungs. My arm pulled back and my balance shifted. I put as much force as I dared (still careful not to jar my other side) and launched the ball at B.
I watched with baited breath as it cut through the air. The ball slammed into Braeden’s waiting hands, hitting exactly where I wanted it to go.
Braeden let out a big yell and threw the ball on the field and started doing some kind of mad victory dance.
Dude looked like he was in a bad remake of Saturday Night Fever.
“That was the money shot right there!” he yelled when he was done embarrassing himself.
I grinned. “Hells yeah.”
“‘Bout time you got in a good throw. I was getting worried, Rome.” B shook his head. “I thought for sure you were gonna end up taking orders from some pimple-faced kid at a department store no one ever shopped in.”
#Player Page 8