Losing Memphis: A NA Sports Romance (NE University Book 3)

by Hannah Gray

  Her eyes burn into the side of my head. “Really? No big deal that you had some guy in the living room until the ass crack of dawn? Seriously? Seriously?” She narrows her eyes. “Was it Colton? I thought you didn’t like him that way.”

  “No, no,” I answer quickly. “It wasn’t Colton.” Biting my lip, I shrink into my chair, knowing just how much my best friend is about to blow this out of proportion. “Lane stopped by.”

  Her mouth drops. “As in Lane Rivers?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Remember how we saw him with Trent and Mason at Antonio’s?”

  “Um, clearly, I would remember seeing fine specimens like that.” Rolling her eyes, she shrugs her shoulders. “But how did that lead to him being here last night?”

  “I don’t really know. He cornered me outside of the restroom.” I hope she misses me shudder at the memory of him boxing me against the wall, being so close to me. Even the memory makes my heart speed up. I continue with my explanation, “And then he just … sort of showed up here last night.”

  I glance over at her to find her still staring at me, unmoving. Obviously, she wants more details.

  I suppose it’s truth time. “So, remember back on Halloween night, when I hung out with him for a while?”

  She nods. “Yes. You said you guys only made out. What, did you, like, have sex or something?”

  Almost spitting my coffee out, I aggressively shake my head back and forth. “No! We really did only make out. But we also hung out once after that. He took me to get coffee.”

  “Oh my gosh! You sneaky little bitch! You held out on me with that juicy tidbit!”

  Dramatic, just like I expected from Ava.

  Before I can answer, she fires at me again, “Wait. Are you guys secretly dating?”

  “No! Not at all!”

  With one hand on her hip and one eyebrow arched, she watches me. She has so much attitude packed into her small body. “Then, spill it, girlfriend. Now.”

  Over the next thirty minutes before I have to leave for class, I go over the details of each and every single encounter Lane and I have had. She’s so excited to learn this “juicy information,” as she calls it, that she doesn’t act too upset over the fact that I held something from her.

  I didn’t keep it from her because I don’t trust her. That isn’t it at all. In all actuality, I trust her more than I trust most people. She’s one of the good ones.

  I guess I just didn’t bother telling her because I knew things with Lane were bound to go nowhere. It seemed like telling her and dissecting each and every detail was a moot point.

  I’m not naive. I know a guy like him isn’t going to be held down. Sure, I could enjoy it while it lasted, reap the benefits of his insanely hot, chiseled body. But that just isn’t how I am. I’m not the type of girl who is DTF—or whatever they call it. I’m not a one-night-stand girl. Those girls are fun, adventurous, and in my own personal opinion, too easy.

  I enjoy school and working in the library. I could spend an entire weekend getting lost in multiple books or watching Netflix. The partying scene has never been that appealing to me. Sure, I go at times—more for Ava’s sake, to be a good friend because she enjoys it. Lane and I couldn’t be on more opposite ends of the spectrum.

  I won’t allow myself to entertain the idea that this could grow into some fairy-tale romance. I know that it won’t. But honestly, all I know is that when he’s close to me, I feel like my entire body comes to life. I feel everything. Nerves awaken that I never even knew were there. He brings something out of me that has been asleep for my entire life.

  A guy like Lane, he could destroy me. He’d leave me yearning for him long after he was gone. Because let’s be real—sooner or later, he’ll be gone.

  twenty-six

  Lane

  I head toward Memphis’s apartment to pick her up. I texted her a bit ago and asked her if she’d be down to hang out tonight. I almost picked my jaw up off the ground when I didn’t get a smart-mouthed answer back. Instead, she said sure.

  It’s only been three days since I showed up at her apartment, but for some reason, I can’t stay away from her any longer. I know it isn’t fair to lead her on. But the selfish part of me just isn’t ready to let her go. Not yet.

  When I’m around her, that deep-rooted ache inside of me disappears. I feel lighter and breathe easier while in her presence. She quiets the demons that have been tormenting me for years now.

  Pulling into her parking lot, I see she’s already waiting outside. When she spots my truck, she makes a beeline for it, basically running.

  I jump out and jog around to the passenger door, opening it before she has a chance.

  I can’t stop myself from grinning like a fool. “Happy to see me, are ya? Good thing Trent never saw you run that fast. He might have given you my spot on the team,” I joke, watching her ass as she climbs inside. Wishing I could grab a handful of it.

  She flicks me off and rubs her hands together. “No. More like it’s colder outside than a toilet seat made of brass in the Yukon.”

  “That’s a very detailed explanation you have there.” I laugh before shutting the door, jogging back to the driver’s side, and climbing in.

  She isn’t kidding though. This winter has been freezing, and I’m plain sick of it.

  “Do you like the cold weather?” I ask as I pull out of the parking lot.

  She shrugs. “Not particularly. I like it when there is snow for Christmas, but then I’m over it. It certainly gets old. The weather turned cold in November, and here we are, mid-February, with no signs of it warming up.”

  “So then, what’s your favorite season?” I ask with genuine curiosity.

  “Summer,” she replies with no hesitation. “Summer, fall, winter, and then spring. In that order.”

  Surprised, I glance at her. “Winter before spring? That’s … different.”

  “I have horrible allergies in the springtime. My eyes look like I’ve been punched in the face, and my nose runs constantly. I despise spring.”

  “So, are you always going to stay in New England? Where winter is, like, half of the damn year?”

  My question seems to puzzle her.

  She thinks for a moment before finally answering, “Honestly, I guess I’ve never given it much thought.”

  Glancing from the road to her and back, I ask, “Why is that?”

  “My mom and I have always been really close, and this is the first year I haven’t lived with her. I guess I’ve always assumed I’d live near her. That is, if I can find a job in this area.” She sighs. “Although, I’ll admit, the idea of moving somewhere where the weather is less—”

  “Shitty?” I interrupt her.

  She giggles. “I was going to say, more desirable in the winter months. But, yes, shitty works too.”

  I feel a pang of guilt in my core. I never even gave my own family a thought when deciding where I’d ideally like to be drafted. Not because I don’t want to be close to them, but because I don’t want to be close to my hometown. Fuck no. I want to get far, far away from there.

  I’d love for my family to all come to wherever I ended up. But that just isn’t feasible. With Landon having one child and another on the way, there’s no way my parents would leave them. And it isn’t like Landon and Eden could move either. Given that my brother’s carpentry business is out of Littleton, Michigan.

  Her soft, sweet voice breaks me from the thoughts. “What about you? Are you planning to stay nearby after graduation?”

  Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I shrug. “I’m not really sure. Wherever I get drafted is where I’ll be, I guess.”

  “But you must have somewhere you’d like that to be, right?” she says inquisitively, pressing me for more information.

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that’s where I’ll end up,” I answer honestly. Because I really don’t know who will choose me. Hell, I might not even get drafted at all.

  She bobs her head up and down. “I understa
nd that. But if you did get chosen by your first choice, where would you be going?” She doesn’t give up.

  “Florida,” I finally confess. “Tampa Bay.” I want nothing more than to be a Buccaneer.

  Her lips turn up slightly, as she’s seemingly happy to finally get the truth out of me. “That’s awesome. Now, that would certainly be better weather than this crap,” she says with a laugh. “So, anyway, where are we going tonight?”

  “Patience, Memphis. Patience.”

  “I really, really, really hate surprises, FYI.” She sighs.

  Another small thing I can add to my list of what I know about her. She hates surprises. I can’t help but want to learn more. Not like it will matter how much I know or don’t know in the long run because I’ll have to cut her loose. But for some reason, right now, I want to know everything about her. Even the bad stuff.

  “So, I have to ask you something, and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer.”

  She looks nervous. “All right …”

  “At the Halloween party, you weren’t drinking. And when I asked you if you wanted a drink, you got sort of defensive. Do you not drink?”

  She looks uncomfortable, so I quickly do damage control.

  Reaching across, I touch her hand. “Hey, it’s no big deal if you don’t. If anything, I’d applaud you. I was just curious—that’s all.”

  Looking down at her hand, I wonder if she felt it too. That feeling I get when our skin makes contact. It jolts my entire body awake every time it happens. Sex with her would likely ruin me for all other women. She’s so beautiful and outspoken yet mysterious.

  She clears her throat. “I don’t have anything against it or people who do it. I just …” She stops, her cheeks growing redder by the second.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually pretty admirable, if you ask me,” I say, rubbing my thumb against her hand.

  She looks unconvinced. “Thanks. I guess I have just always wanted to be in control of every single situation. Drinking seems to impair that.” She sighs. “Also … I’ve always held myself to such high standards. Never really allowing myself to let loose. I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to you.”

  Rubbing my thumb across hers back and forth, I smile. “I think that’s awesome. I wish I had that sort of control.” Needing to change the subject, I nod toward the radio. “What kind of music are you into? We can listen to whatever.” I secretly hope she doesn’t say country. I fucking hate country. I’m more into rock.

  “Oh, this is fine,” she says, pointing to the radio. “But if you’re asking what my favorite type of music is”—she smiles—“it’s country.”

  I can’t stop the laugh that comes out of me. Putting my knuckles by my mouth, I shake my head. “Fuckin’ figures. I have just one question. Why?”

  Her beautiful mouth hangs open. “You don’t like country?”

  I shake my head. “Not particularly.”

  She’s quiet for a moment before she smiles. “My dad loved country music. When I got in his truck, that’s what was always playing. And now that he’s gone, it makes me feel closer to him.”

  Wow, I feel like a fucking bag of dicks for making fun of her.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m sorry.” Opening up the Music app, I hand her my phone, which is currently hooked up to the truck to stream music. “I might not like it. But for you, I’ll suffer it. Pick something out.”

  As she takes the phone from my hand, her eyes narrow. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to rip your ears off or anything,” she teases.

  “Try to change my mind about country music. Play me something good,” I challenge her.

  Holding my gaze for a moment before finally going to work on my phone, she nods. “Prepare to be blown away.”

  Music flows through the speakers, and even though it isn’t my usual style, it isn’t that bad. “Who is this?” I ask.

  “Luke Combs,” she says proudly. “The best country music artist in the world.”

  With her sitting next to me in my truck, I’d listen to this shit all day. Truthfully, I would.

  “Wait, we’re going here?!” she squeals. “For real?”

  Chuckling, I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Clapping her hands together, she bounces up and down in her seat. I have to admit, it’s nice to see her actually excited about something.

  “I have always wanted to come here but never gotten around to it!” She beams at me with excitement.

  “Well, tonight, you finally get to. Still hate surprises?”

  “For the most part, yes. But this is good.” She gazes up at the huge ice castles. “This is really good.”

  I did some searching on Google last night. It isn’t like we can go out to dinner and risk Trent seeing us. This was over an hour drive away and seemed like something she might like. I hoped she’d like it anyway. I think all chicks love shit like ice castles you can walk inside of.

  Reaching in the backseat, I pick up the mittens and hat I bought for her on my way to pick her up. I place them in her lap.

  After staring down at them for a few moments, she looks up at me, her eyes wide. “What’s this?” she asks softly, her eyebrows knitted together.

  “It’s fucking freezing out, babe. I figured you’d need them, so I ran to the mall before I picked you up.” Looking at her face, I can see she’s taken aback by my gesture. Reaching over the console, I smile and pat her hand. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

  She’s quiet, but she nods slowly before saying, “Thank you.”

  I’m sure she didn’t think a guy with my reputation would think of shit like ice castles, let alone hats and mittens. But what can I say? My dad and mom taught me to treat people right. And I didn’t want her walking around, shivering. I guess I could have told her to bring her own, but then it might have given away where I was taking her. I wanted her to be totally surprised.

  We make our way toward the giant ice castles, and I have to admit, it’s pretty badass. At the risk of sounding like a giant pussy, this place is quite impressive.

  Not that I’m going to go tell that to the guys. Hey, fellas, you know what was a magical experience? The ice castles.

  They’d never let me live it down.

  But it isn’t like I can tell them anyway because they’d ask who I was with. And then Trent would cut my dick off.

  I watch her face light up as she takes in every detail she sees. She doesn’t seem to miss anything as she runs her hands over the finely carved ice, basking in it all. Blue eyes dance from one piece of the castle to another. I can see the appreciation written all over her face. Which makes me proud of my decision to bring her here.

  As I watch her smile, she looks back at me.

  She’s beautiful. Like the kind of beautiful that makes you stop in your tracks and take it in. The kind that startles you briefly as your brain tries to figure out how on earth something that beautiful could even exist. She’s unlike anything I’ve ever laid eyes on. Well, her and one other person.

  After walking through the inside of the largest castle, we come outside, and we’re in the center of these huge, delicately crafted pieces.

  She gazes up at the one that’s behind me, completely in awe. Without thinking, I pull out my phone and snap a picture of her. I look at it, studying her beauty. Black hair flows out of her hat, spilling over her shoulders. Her eyes, even in the coldness of tonight, remind me of the seas in a tropical place. Her lips look red against her fair skin. There’s no denying she’s absolutely stunning. I’d be willing to bet money that every other man here tonight is looking at me, thinking, What a lucky bastard he is to be here with her.

  Realization hits me that this is the first picture I’ve taken of another girl since my senior year of high school. Actually, it is the first picture of another girl on my phone at all. It should be some sort of big deal. Like a pivotal moment in time when I know I’m starting to feel again or that I’m healing. But I can’t help myself. I don’t feel joy from it. I feel gui
lt. I feel bad. I feel like … I’m betraying Abby. Which is stupid because Memphis is alive and here. And also, she’s perfect.

  twenty-seven

  Memphis

  The drive back to campus is quiet. Too quiet. I’m not sure when or why the energy between us changed tonight, but I know that it did.

  The whole time we were at the castles, he was his charismatic, normal self. But then, just before we left … I don’t know … something came over him. His attitude is different. He’s quiet and indifferent. I keep telling myself not to look any further into it, but it’s hard.

  I can’t stop my mind from wondering, Was it something I did? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?

  I retrace every word exchanged between us, and I come up short. I can’t think of anything that would have made him feel uncomfortable.

  Reaching over, I pat his shoulder. “Hey, you sure everything’s okay?” I ask softly, hoping not to make it worse.

  After all, it isn’t my business what’s bothering him since we are basically strangers. But if we are going to do things like visit ice castles, I’d at least like to think we are sort of friends. And friends ask each other when something seems wrong.

  Staring at the road before us, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, he stiffens at my words. “Yeah, I’m good. Just tired, I guess. I got in two workouts today. It’s probably just catching up with me.”

  I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His body language is opposite of what it was earlier today. Gone is the warm, carefree Lane. Replacing him is someone who can’t get out of his own head. Something is certainly under his skin. And even though I shouldn’t take it personally, I do. But more than that, I worry. Because this man next to me is slowly working his way into my heart.

  The other night, he told me not to apologize for what I did when I kissed him. Which made me realize that maybe I shouldn’t be so uptight about every single thing in my life.

  Maybe I can have fun with whatever it is we have going on between us. I’m always so hard on myself with the self-made rules and the constant action of trying to be responsible and perfect. I guess, in a way, I think of my dad watching me from heaven, and I want to make him proud. I don’t ever want to do something that I think would disappoint him. But I also have always had this way about me. I feel like I need to be in control of every situation. I like to be the driver in life. I’m not good at being the passenger.