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

by Hannah Gray

  Gripping the back of my neck, Mase laughs. “Sounds good, brother. Sounds good.”

  This place is packed solid. I couldn’t feel more like a misfit if I wanted to. The people here reek of money. Not that I’m surprised. John Kade’s girlfriend loves helping people in need, and John certainly has the money and connections to make it happen.

  I take a sip of my beer and look around. As much as I want to tip some shots back, I figure that I should behave myself at a fundraising event of all places. So, a beer or two it is.

  No doubt there are some beautiful women here. But no one is really catching my eye and pulling me over to them. In a way, they all look exactly the same. Makeup caked on, barely there dresses, and tits pushed clear up to their chins. It’s just not doing it for me anymore. There’s no thrill in bringing someone home for the night. It used to pacify my problems. Now, it just seems like a burden.

  There’s a good chance that who I am craving will be here. After all, her mom is the reason this event is happening.

  It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen her angelic face. Or looked into her captivating eyes. I fucking miss her. I miss someone I only barely scratched the surface with. And I know there’s a reason why I can’t seem to get her off my mind.

  I make small talk with some of the rich men at the party. Some aren’t too bad, and some are complete dicks. They all ask the same questions. Where I’m going to be drafted. Fuck if I know. But I can’t exactly say that as an answer to these pricks. I mean, they are here for a good cause, a damn good cause. So, I entertain them and let them tell me what they think I need to hear and about all the other predictions on Draft Day. As much as I’d like to take their fancy cocktails and ram them down their throats, I smile and nod my head. After all, this is a charity event, and these fuckers are likely going to donate a shit-ton of money. I can fake it for one night for them.

  I inwardly groan, thinking of what the asshole approaching the group is going to say. White hair, expensive tux that screams I’m a douchebag, and skin that is so tan and leathery from spending too much time in either a tanning bed or wherever the fuck he has a beach house.

  “That quarterback from Georgia State? Now, that boy’s good. I’ll bet you fellas that he’ll be the number one draft pick,” he rattles off, knocking his buddies on their shoulders.

  A few nod, and others shake their heads.

  “Trent Kade will be the number one draft pick. I’m sure of it,” another drawls back.

  I like this guy. He’s right; my boy will be the first pick. I know it.

  I’m just about to point out that we have the best wide receiver in college football right here at NEU. Mason has more raw talent in one nut than that fucker at Georgia State has in his entire body.

  I open my mouth to speak, but a flash of red has my mouth snapping shut.

  I take in her beautiful, exposed back in the tight-fitting red dress, leading down to the most perfect ass.

  I’d know that ass anywhere.

  I watch in complete awe, devouring every inch of this goddess’s body. Her skin is creamy and soft. She stands with her back to me, talking to Mr. Kade and her mom.

  I know I shouldn’t go to her. It would be insensitive. But, fuck, I can’t take it. I have to go over there. I’ll play it off like I’m going to say hello to Mr. Kade. But really, my intention is only to see her up close. It’s been too damn long. I know it’s selfish. But when it comes to her, for some crazy reason, I have no control.

  Making my way across the room, I stop right next to her. “Mr. Kade.” Extending my arm out, I shake his hand before turning my attention to her mom. “Carla. Always nice to see you.”

  She smiles, pulling me in for a hug. I’ve only met her a few times, but I realized rather quickly that she is definitely a hugger. Memphis certainly didn’t get that quality. She got a lot of her beauty though.

  “Oh, Lane, we are so happy you could make it,” she says while finally releasing me.

  “Glad to be here,” I say smoothly before turning my attention to the beauty in the red dress, praying she doesn’t slap me in front of everyone. Then again, that would be a major turn-on if she did.

  Just as I get a look at her face, Carla’s small hand wraps around my arm. “Lane, meet my daughter, Memphis.” She turns to her daughter. “Memphis, Lane.”

  There we stand, still as statues, staring each other down. Her blue eyes wide and her lips slightly parted.

  Snapping back to the reality that everyone is watching us, I hold my hand out. “Nice to meet you … Memphis,” I say coolly.

  To say she looks good tonight doesn’t mean jack shit to how she really looks. She’s a beautiful girl already, but tonight, holy fuck, she’s breathtaking.

  Her black hair is pulled back into some low, messy bun thing. With that and the low-cut dress, she’s showcasing her entire beautiful back. She isn’t one who wears or needs makeup, but tonight, with her eyes coated with some gold powder shit along with some of that dark eyelash stuff, she looks like a goddamn angel. Only this angel looks far from innocent.

  It’s plain to see her less than thrilled expression to see me. Not that I blame her. She offered herself to me—something I’m almost positive she doesn’t do often, if ever—and I turned her down. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, but I stand by my decision that it was the right one. Even if my dick didn’t agree, which it didn’t. At all. In fact, I’m surprised it didn’t pack up and move out on me for putting it through that.

  Completely indifferent, she holds her hand out. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

  As I take her hand in mine, my entire body fills with need. All for her. Luckily, she pulls it away shortly after before turning back to her mother and John.

  “I have to go check on Ava. I’ll catch you guys later.” Then, she walks past us and away from the conversation.

  And no matter how fucking inappropriate it is, I can’t for the life of me pull my eyes from her ass. Well, not until John clears his throat, that is.

  A middle-aged lady approaches Carla, pulling her attention from me. Thank Christ for that.

  John leans into my ear. “Don’t even think about it, son,” he warns.

  Not even bothering to pretend I don’t know what he means, I shake my head. “No, sir. Of course not.”

  “I mean it, Lane. She’s a good girl. Keep away from her.”

  “You got it, Mr. Kade. Scout’s honor,” I say with a grin.

  He pats my back. “Good man,” he mutters before walking off.

  I know one thing. Having this beautiful yet forbidden creature right under my nose is driving me wild.

  Finishing my beer, I head to the bar. I need another drink, and I need it now.

  Memphis

  “I’m going to grab another drink,” Ava says before bursting into giggles. She’s a few glasses of champagne deep, and she’s certainly feeling them.

  “Maybe you should drink water for a bit or at least eat something.”

  Rolling her eyes, she puts a hand on her hip. “I didn’t say you had to drink, negative Nancy. We know you won’t.”

  Something in her words strikes a nerve. I am not a negative Nancy. Just because I don’t enjoy getting hammered doesn’t mean I can’t have fun.

  And though I’m not one for peer pressure, I can’t believe the words coming out of my mouth when I say, “Tonight, I am going to have a drink. Lead the way to the champagne.”

  Ava’s face falls. “Oh, Mem, I didn’t mean to pressure you. You don’t drink, and that’s your thing. I’m sorry I said that,” she answers honestly.

  I shake my head. “No, I know you didn’t. But you’re right. Why can’t I have a drink every now and then?”

  I mean, for Pete’s sake, my own mother is drinking at this party. Why can’t I? Hell, if my mom saw me with an alcoholic beverage, she’d probably give me a high five for letting loose for once.

  Leaning her head forward, she looks worried. “Are you sure? I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” />
  “I’m sure. I said I was going to live a little this year, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  As we make our way to the bar, Ava orders two glasses of champagne and hands one to me.

  “Cheers!” she squeals, clinking our glasses together.

  I take a small sip, and it isn’t at all what I expected it to be. I expected it to be something like a fruity ginger ale. But this has a slight burn to it. But it isn’t horrible. It’s just … rugged.

  “Do you love it?” Ava says after basically chugging down her own.

  “Well … it isn’t horrible,” I answer honestly.

  “Girl, this is hella good champagne. Take it from me. I’ve had the real shitty kind, and this, well, this is far from that.”

  I have to say, it feels good to let go of my self-control for once and enjoy myself. For as long as I can remember, everything has been about following these absurd rules. Rules that I set for myself. I’m beginning to wonder why I spent so much time obsessing with the idea of not wanting to disappoint my father. I mean, it’s not like I’m a drug dealer or a prostitute or a serial killer, so I guess I’m doing all right for myself. Why I thought having a drink or two would make him upset, I have no idea.

  I’m not going to be turning into a lush anytime soon or decide to start sleeping with every guy on campus, but I know one thing: I’m going to live my life like it’s my last year in college. Because it is. The reality is that my days of being young and selfish are closing in, and it’s setting in, so I’m ready to take advantage of what time I have left.

  thirty-one

  Lane

  It’s after midnight when Trent, Mason, and I stroll back into our house.

  “That was actually fun for a fundraiser. The food was fan-fucking-tastic,” Mason says.

  Trent nods. “Yeah, and they raised well over their goal.”

  Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I twist the top off. “That’s fucking awesome, man. Pretty cool your dad and Carla did that for that family,” I say and genuinely mean it.

  “Carla is good like that. She loves helping people.”

  The way Trent says it, I can tell that he likes Carla. She’s been good for him and his dad both. I wish I could ask him more about Memphis, but I know that wouldn’t be a good idea. I wonder what she’s been up to or if she’s seeing anyone. How she looked tonight, shit, I couldn’t help but watch her all night. No matter how hard I tried not to, my eyes just kept finding her.

  Walking into my room, I pull my tie off and begin getting out of my tux when my phone starts to ring. Worry instantly fills my gut. Who would be calling this late? My first thought is that it’s my parents, and I fear that something is wrong.

  Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I frown when I see Memphis’s name on the screen. What the hell is she calling me for?

  Confused, I answer, “Memphis?”

  I’m met with laughter on the other end of the phone. Unlike any sound I have ever heard come out of her mouth.

  “Yesss, it’s me, you big … you big poopy head.”

  It’s clear that she’s drunk. Somehow, that strikes a nerve deep within me. The last time we hung out, she said she didn’t drink or would ever want to.

  “You’re drunk. Where are you, Memphis? Are you safe?”

  “I am not dr-drunk.” She erupts into laughter. “Oookay, maybe a little.”

  I hear music and voices in the background.

  “Where the hell are you, Memphis?” I growl.

  “Somewherrrre that you arrrren’t, which means somewhere fuuuun,” she slurs some more. “You know why it’s more fun, Lane?”

  Annoyed, I answer, “Why?”

  “Because no one here is going to turn me down and make me feel like an iiiidiot. That’s what you did though. You made me feel dumb. And I look hot tonight, jackass. And you don’t even carrrre.”

  Fuck, she’s at some party, and she’s probably going to throw herself at some slimeball just to prove a point.

  “Where the fuck are you? You are hammered out at, what, some random party?” Tucking my phone between my ear and shoulder, I slide my suit pants off and pull on a pair of jeans. “Where the fuck are you?”

  “Nonya!” More laughter belts into my ear. “Get it! Nonya business!”

  “Memph—” I begin to say when the line goes dead on her end.

  “Fuck!” I yell, throwing my phone across the room.

  This is not what I wanted to deal with tonight. Or ever. I know I should just go to bed. She’s a big girl, and she can handle herself.

  Only I can’t do that. The thought of her at some party, hammered and around a bunch of guys? Fuck that. I need to find her, and luckily, I have a pretty good idea where she could be.

  Pulling my truck directly in front of the baseball house, I slam it in park. I suppose they probably don’t want anyone parking on their lawn, but they won’t say jack shit about it—I know that much. You see, football trumps baseball at NEU. Nobody gets more respect than the NEU football players. It sounds cocky, but it’s the truth.

  I heard the baseball players were having a party at their house tonight, but none of us were interested in going. I allowed myself to have a few beers at the fundraiser and then went home. I had no intentions of coming around these fuckheads tonight. Obviously, plans change though.

  Instantly, the jersey chasers flock to my sides. Much to their surprise, I ignore them and continue on my mission. The sole reason I came here is to find Memphis and drag her ass home.

  I’m not going to sleep with her or some shit like that either. I’m going to save her from making an ass out of herself. Or worse, getting sexually assaulted. These parties aren’t always a safe place.

  Hudson, one of the baseball players I actually like, approaches me. “Lane, brother, what’s going on? About time you showed up at one of our parties, you clown.”

  I tip my chin at him. “I know, right?”

  I spot her as soon as I walk into the living room. Thank fuck she’s dancing with a group of chicks and not guys. I really wasn’t in the mood to lay someone out tonight. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m always in the mood for that. But I need to keep myself out of trouble if I want the NFL to take me seriously.

  Walking up behind her, I see she’s changed out of the extremely sexy yet elegant dress and is now wearing tight jeans and a black shirt that shows off the bottom of her hot, toned stomach. I’m not an idiot. I know every motherfucker’s eyes in this place are most likely on her. The thought of that pisses me off. A lot.

  Finally reaching her, I say, “Memphis,” causing her to spin around to face me.

  Now, normally, this is the time where she’d act mad, annoyed, or snarky. This time though, she shows none of those emotions. Instead, she giggles and throws her tiny arms around my neck.

  “Laney Waney! What’re you doing here?” she stumbles over her own words.

  Her normally pale, creamy cheeks are pink from being buzzed. I hate to admit it, but she’s adorable this way, though that doesn’t change how pissed off I am that she’s acting like every other girl on campus.

  When I remove her hands from my neck, she instantly begins to pout.

  I lean in closer to her. “Memphis, you know damn well there’re a lot of eyes on us right now. Eyes that could tell Trent.”

  She rolls her eyes, irritated. “That’s all you care about!” Her mood quickly turns back to silly. She covers her mouth and laughs. “What is Trent? Your boyyyfrannnnd?”

  Holy fuck, this girl is wasted.

  Lucky for me, I don’t think many people around campus know the connection between Memphis and Trent. So, they’d have no reason to snitch.

  I grab hold of her wrist. “You’re hammered. Let’s get going before you make an ass of yourself in front of these fuckers,” I say, nodding around the room.

  “No! It isn’t your business who I embarrasssss myself in front of,” she slurs some more.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I dip my head down toward he
rs. “All right then, princess, you leave me no other choice.”

  I don’t miss the way her body leans into mine. Her eyes flutter shut. She thinks I’m going to kiss her. As much as I’d like that, it’s not happening, not here and not now, in front of all of these people.

  Before she can fight back, I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. Turning around, I fully expect everyone to be watching us like it’s a goddamn Lifetime movie, but for the most part, everyone is doing their own thing. Most are too drunk or high to even notice. Some are basically fucking against a wall, so fortunately, they certainly don’t care what I’ve got going on right now.

  She pounds my back. “Put me down! You … you … asscracker!”

  I snort. “What the fuck is an asscracker?”

  “I don’t actually know. I’m too … funny feeling to form a thought.”

  We make it outside. Opening the passenger door, I set her in my truck.

  Leaning against the seat, I look at her. Even drunk and a complete disaster, she’s the most beautiful mess I’ve ever seen.

  Running my hand over her disheveled hair, I lean down and kiss her forehead. “You feel funny because you’re drunk. I thought you said you didn’t drink.”

  Her expression changes, she looks different, remorseful even. Her tiny shoulders slump. “I don’t. Or I mean … I didn’t.” Wiping her eyes, she throws her head back against the headrest. “I just wanted to forget for one night. I just wanted to … live.”

  Cupping her cheek, I direct her to look at me. “Forget what, sweetheart?”

  She covers her face with her hands, pushing my hand off of her in the process. “You, dumbass.”

  Before I can answer, she speaks, “I know it’s weird, and I’m being weirrrd.” It’s clear in her voice that she isn’t in her right mind from the alcohol. “I know we have only hung out a few times, and you aren’t my type. At alllll. In fact, I hated you up until recently.”

  Running my hand through her silky black hair, I chuckle. “Gee, thanks. You hated me?”