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

by Hannah Gray

  But with Lane, I’m almost ready to let him take the wheel and give me one hell of an adventure.

  We pull in front of my apartment, but before he can jump out to open the door for me—which is something I’ve noticed he does every single time we’ve been together—I turn my body to face him.

  “Lane?”

  Keeping his eyes forward, never looking at me, he whispers, “Yeah?”

  “I had a great time tonight … I really did,” I tell him.

  I had the best night. Honestly, I didn’t want it to end.

  He still keeps his gaze forward, but I swear I see his lips turn up the smallest amount. It’s a tiny smile. Yet I can tell it’s a sad one.

  “I’m glad,” he says softly.

  Tormented, I ask, “Lane, can you look at me?”

  Reluctantly, he turns toward me and leans his back against his window. Keeping as much distance as he can between us.

  Without thinking, I jump forward and press my lips to his, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, his lips stay firm against mine. Embarrassed, I begin to pull back. But when I do, he grips the back of my head, urging our mouths together once again.

  Parting my lips, I welcome him in. His mouth moves with mine like I’m his next breath.

  A small moan escapes my mouth, and unable to stop myself, I climb over the console and onto his lap. Needing to be closer to him. Wanting it too. Desperately wanting to feel everything with him and for the first time.

  Feeling his growing erection beneath me awakens a monster inside me that even I didn’t know existed. I would give him anything he wanted in this moment. Anything at all.

  “Lane, I want …” I practically pant.

  “What, beautiful? What do you want? Tell me.”

  A shiver runs down the entire length of my body. “You. I want you.” I don’t even recognize my own voice as it pleads for more of him with pure agony. The words sound so sure. I don’t even know what I’m saying.

  I press my mouth to his again, and before I can talk myself out of it, I slide my hand under his shirt. Rock-hard abs greet my touch. You think you know what an athlete’s abs will feel like … but the reality is so much hotter than the fantasy. I imagine tracing each one with my tongue.

  My God, I’m not a sexual person.

  Where are these thoughts even coming from?

  Suddenly, his body turns to concrete. Pulling away, he removes my hand from his abdomen. His entire body turns cold and unwelcoming. My own body turns colder simply by his touch leaving it.

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closes his eyes for a moment. “Memphis, let me walk you to your door.”

  Completely and utterly humiliated, I climb off of him and push the door open, slamming it behind me. Wasting no time in rushing toward my apartment.

  “Memphis,” he calls from behind me.

  I pick up the pace, almost to the finish line as I near my apartment door.

  “Memphis!” he yells. “Goddamn it, stop. Would you just stop?”

  For some reason, I do stop. But I don’t turn around to face him. Hot tears of embarrassment fall down my cheeks, but I refuse to let him see them.

  “Memphis, I’m sorry,” his voice rasps.

  After wiping my cheeks, slowly, I turn. “For what exactly, Lane?”

  He drags a hand through his short light-brown hair, looking down at the ground. “I have no fucking idea what I’m doing anymore.” His voice sounds defeated. Which, ironically, is how I feel.

  The first time I threw down the gauntlet, following my heart, daring to go after something I wanted, I got pushed away.

  My eyes narrow, and my skin prickles with anger. “And what the hell does that mean?”

  His eyes lock with mine as he shakes his head softly. “I can’t give you the type of things you’re looking for, Memphis. I just can’t.”

  “Enlighten me. What the hell would you know about what I’m looking for?”

  “Come on, Memphis. You aren’t the type of girl to fuck a guy in a truck.” He cringes. “And you and I both know it.”

  My entire body fills with rage. “You know what? I’m so over this back-and-forth shit with you. You’re giving me whiplash, for Christ’s sake. It’s worse than being on a fucking ride at the fair.” Taking a step back, I shake my head at him. “Now though? I’m getting off this ride. I have had enough. From now on, stay the hell away from me.”

  Something inside of him snaps. Throwing his hands up in the air, he growls, “I never wanted to fucking come near you, Memphis. Don’t you get it? I’m not the guy who takes a girl to the fucking ice castles or shows up outside of her apartment. I’m not the type of guy who cares if you dance with someone else or waits for you outside of the restroom! That’s not who I am.” He shakes his head. “And it’s never who I’ll be.”

  A bitter laugh escapes my lips as I fight back more tears. “Well, good to know because you could have fooled me.”

  “I’m sorry for that.”

  I have to give it to him; he does sound genuinely sorry. Still, that doesn’t help how humiliated I feel for being pushed away.

  “I just … I can’t do this.” He sighs and motions between us. “This right here? This isn’t in my future.” He half-turns, looking off in the distance. “Even if I wish it were,” he says so quietly that I’m not even sure he really said it or if my imagination is playing tricks on me.

  Not responding, I wipe my cheeks with my sleeve. Turning slowly, I walk inside. Leaving Lane Rivers outside my apartment once and for all.

  twenty-eight

  Lane

  On the way to my house, I grip the steering wheel so tight that I’m actually surprised the damn thing doesn’t crack.

  I watched as she ran into her apartment and away from me, never once looking back. The look on her face will replay in my brain over and over again. I never wanted to hurt her—that was the last thing I intended to do. Although I damn sure see where she got mixed signals. I bought her gloves and a hat and took her to the ice castles, for fuck’s sake. Obviously, that screamed I wanted more. Why wouldn’t she think that?

  Pulling into the driveway and into my parking spot, I lay my head back on the headrest. Not at all ready to face Trent and Mason and their five thousand questions.

  I mean, really, what the fuck am I supposed to say?

  Hey, Trent, I’m in a piss-poor mood because I was just with your future stepsister, who is obviously developing feelings for me, and, well, that’s a problem because I’m still pining over my dead ex-girlfriend, who your future stepsister sort of looks like.

  Yeah, somehow, I don’t think that explanation is going to work.

  The problem is, I can’t stop thinking about the way her body folds into mine so perfectly when I kiss her. Or how her eyes dance when she smiles. Or maybe the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s nervous. Not to mention, the reality that when I’m with her, I don’t hurt. I don’t crave alcohol or partying when she’s around. Instead, I just find myself hanging on to every word that comes out of her beautiful mouth. Fascinated by everything she says because I know she isn’t one who talks just to talk. She talks because she has something she wants to say.

  But most of all, the main problem is that when I’m with her, Abby doesn’t consume my mind. She doesn’t fill my thoughts and take up every ounce of energy. In fact, I barely think of her when I’m with Memphis. And that right there is an issue.

  After ten minutes of sitting in my truck, debating on sleeping in it, I grow a set of nuts and make my way inside the house. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, the guys have already gone to bed. That hope dissolves quickly when I see them watching game tapes in the living room. With the draft coming up in a few months, we watch a lot of game tapes of the teams we hope to get that very important phone call from.

  Mason spots me first. “Well, hello there, asshole. Where have you been?”

  “Just out and about. Sorry, Dad. Next time, I’ll call,” I joke back, trying to play it off
so that I don’t get interrogated more.

  Trent’s eyes never leave the screen. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have been out, chasing a girl.” His voice stays unbothered, as usual.

  I attempt a laugh, which I’m sure comes out awkward-sounding as fuck. I’m a big guy. I can hold my own. But Trent scares even me. I don’t want him mad at me either. Which he will be when he finds out I’ve been lying to him.

  Mason’s head swings toward me, and his eyes narrow. “Wait a second. You are seeing someone, aren’t you? You sneaky little fucker you.”

  Heading to the kitchen, I grab a beer and sit down in the recliner. Taking a long swig from it, I wipe my mouth. “No, dickface. I’m not seeing or chasing anyone. Sorry. I just went for a ride to clear my head. With all the shit coming up, like graduation and the draft, I guess I’ve been a little stressed.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that then?” Trent says, his voice low.

  “I didn’t want to sound like a pansy, man. I just needed to clear my head.”

  “That’s it?” Trent’s eyes move to mine.

  I nod. “That’s it,” I lie through my teeth to my best friend. The guy who has given me a place to live since freshman year. And it makes me feel like a complete coward. Because that’s what I am.

  Mason seems to buy it. He only shrugs and takes a drink of his own beer.

  Trent eyes me over for a bit longer before turning his focus back to the screen. I know he doesn’t believe anything I just said. Trent has a crazy way of reading people. Mason, on the other hand, well, he just goes with the flow. He also sees the better in people, whereas Trent seems to think everyone has bad intentions. That’s just who they are.

  But they are my best friends, and I consider them brothers. I’ve pushed my actual brothers away for years now. But these two? They know a little bit about my past. Not everything, but they know there was an accident and that I carry a ton of guilt. Still, they don’t look at me differently or pity me, not the way my blood brothers do. And here I am, lying to the two men who have been there for me through thick and thin. Even when I was out, acting like an asshole.

  For hours, we sit and watch game tapes. They chat with each other. I try to throw in a comment, so they think I’m fine. But I don’t retain a single thing playing on that TV. My mind is too consumed with the picture of Memphis’s beautiful face earlier tonight. She showed me a little of herself. Usually, she hides. She hides behind jokes and snarky comments.

  But tonight? She let me in. She let me see her vulnerable side.

  And what did I do? I hurt her.

  twenty-nine

  Memphis

  “I’ll take the rib eye, medium,” Trent tells the waitress.

  Our parents seem to like us to go to dinner with them, and honestly, I don’t mind it. It sort of feels like we’re all family. Even if they haven’t been together all that long.

  I really wanted to stay in tonight and prepare my student teaching plans for the week, but my mom and John asked Trent and me to go out to dinner with them, and I felt too bad to say no.

  “So, honey”—my mom turns her attention toward me—“how is the internship going? Still loving it, I hope?”

  Taking a sip of my water, I nod. “It’s going awesome actually. I really like the school. And the teachers and faculty members are great.” I pause. “I’m now at the point where I’m actually taking the lead in teaching some of the classes myself. With Mrs. Dillion’s supervision, of course.”

  “What school?” Trent asks.

  He doesn’t usually say too much to me. So, when he does speak, it catches me off guard. Though I have to say, we’ve been warming up to each other.

  “Forest Hill High,” I answer.

  John nods his chin at his son and grins. “She’s working at your high school’s rival team, son.”

  Trent huffs. “Good luck with that. Nothing but a bunch of spoiled, rich pricks,” he says before shoving a piece of bread into his mouth.

  This is one of those times I curse that my mouth acts before my brain can tell it not to.

  “Says the guy who grew up in a mansion and now lives in the nicest house near campus,” I blurt out.

  “Memphis!” my mother scolds from across the table.

  “Sorry, Mom,” I say with a shrug.

  I probably am being a bitch. But I’m excited about this internship. I don’t need Trent Kade shitting on it, trying to freak me out.

  He shrugs back unapologetically. “Sorry, but it’s true. They’ll chew you up and spit you out. They think they shit roses and piss diamonds.”

  “Trent, that’s enough. I’m sure Memphis is plenty capable of handling herself,” John warns.

  In my brain, I think of how I’m not capable of handling myself. I mean, since Lane made me feel like a fool while stomping his cleats all over my heart, I feel so defeated. It sounds dramatic, I’m sure. But he just has this power over me. I fear that I’ve become infatuated with him.

  “I’m sure she is,” Trent argues. “I was just saying, they are a bunch of privileged assholes over there—that’s all.” He turns toward me. “Sorry. You’ll be fine.”

  I have to all but pick up my jaw from the beautiful hardwood floor. Trent is not a guy who apologizes. Hell, he barely even speaks.

  “Thanks,” I mutter back.

  “Oh, by the way,” my mother’s chipper voice pipes in, “next weekend, we are hosting a silent auction and dinner to raise money for a family in town.” Her face grows serious. “The Anderson family lost their home to a fire. We want to help out, and it would be great if you could both come. Oh, and bring your friends.”

  John nods. “Yes, please do. The more, the merrier.” He turns toward his son. “Make sure to bring the guys from the football team, Trent.”

  “I can do that,” Trent answers.

  Great. The football team. As in the entire football team, meaning I’ll have to come face-to-face with Lane. Welp, that ought to be real fun.

  She can’t stop herself from bouncing up and down in her seat, clapping with excitement. “Great! And you too, Memphis?” My mom looks at me, hopeful.

  “I’ll be there.” A thought crosses my mind. “Wait, what do we wear? Is it, like, fancy?”

  “Suit and ties for the guys, fancy dresses for the girls,” she answers.

  I know one thing for sure—if I’m going to a party where the guy who made me feel like an idiot will be, well, I’m going to go, looking hot. Which means I’m going to need a trip to the mall and a hair and nail appointment. Oh, and help from my best friend, Ava.

  Lane Rivers, I’m gonna make you sorry for making me feel like an idiot.

  thirty

  Memphis

  “I don’t know, Aves. I think it’s maybe … too much?” I turn around in the full-length mirror at Annabelle’s Boutique, looking at my fully exposed back in the dress Ava chose for me.

  “Oh, stop it! It’s everything.” Rushing over to me, she takes her own arm and twirls me around, taking in every angle of the dress. “Literally … everything,” she gushes.

  Turning around, I face myself in the mirror. The smooth red fabric hugs every curve on my body. The neckline is a simple V-neck, dipping low enough to be sexy yet not so low that it’s overly seductive. It’s backless, showing off more skin than I am used to. The fabric clings to my bottom yet not in a way that makes me cringe, but more in a way that makes me feel … kind of hot. I’m not usually one who is confident, but I have to admit, it sort of feels like this dress was made for me.

  “Girl, you have got to buy it. It’s the one,” she says, dropping her voice lower. It’s still louder than a typical person’s voice because, well, it’s Ava, and she’s loud. “Lane won’t know what hit him.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t care what he thinks.”

  Ava shakes her head. “Pfft. Girlfriend, who are you trying to fool?”

  “Whatever. Don’t make it a thing.”

  “Oh, honey, it’s a thing. I know wh
at you’re doing. You go to the salon, like, once a year. Twice tops. And now, all of a sudden, you’re rushing in to get appointments for hair and nails? Yeah, I see what you’re up to.” She winks.

  I didn’t need to tell her why it was important to me to get gussied up for this event. She knew. She had been there for me when I ran inside the house after Lane turned me down and made me feel like garbage. She knew I had developed some feelings in just that short time we’d spent together. I think she saw it coming before I did.

  Heading into the changing room to get back into the comfort of my leggings and oversize sweater, I call over my shoulder, “Enough about me. Time for us to get your sexy ass a dress.”

  This dress might be totally out of my comfort zone, but damn it, I’m going all out, and I’m buying it. I’m going to that party, guns blazing.

  Lane

  “I fucking hate wearing suits,” Trent grumbles as we make our way up the walkway. To the country club that is hosting the fundraiser event.

  “I don’t mind them too much. I mean, I look good, damn good,” Mason drawls. Smirking, he nods his chin to some girls walking by and winks, causing them to all but trip over each other.

  Trent pushes him on the back. “You look like a fucking penguin.”

  “A sexy penguin,” Mason fires back.

  I don’t know why Trent even tries to get him wound up. It won’t work. Mason’s too easygoing for that.

  “Well, fellas, I think we look damn good. Especially me,” I say, slapping them both on the shoulders. “Let’s go be charitable. I hear there’s an open bar.”