by McKayla Box
She glances at it for a moment, then looks at me. Her eyes are different now. The anger that I saw in the apartment is gone. I’m not sure what to call what I see now, but it’s like the opposite of anger.
“So he confiscates it and I’m cited for possession,” I explain. “There was no point in explaining why I had it or who it was for. It didn’t matter. So I took the ticket and went home. My mom was freaked and she wanted to call the police and explain everything, but I was like fuck no we’re not doing that. That’s a way bigger problem. Not worth it. But I need to figure out what to do so I go to Petty. I trust him. I’m not sure he’s like a dad to me, but definitely an uncle. And he knows all of the shit going on with my mom. So I tell him exactly what happened. And he’s cool. He gets it. He helps me figure it out. I have to go to some classes and pay a fine, but as long as I don’t do anything else dumb, it’ll be off my record like it never happened. He finds all of that out for me.” I pause. “But the school also had a zero tolerance policy. It’s all clearly laid out and we signed the sheet every year. So he had to go to the athletic director and report it. Now, it probably should’ve been worse than what it was, and I’ll never know because Petty would never tell me, but I had to sit the two games and I was suspended from class for a couple of days. They kept it super quiet and I think Petty always had a plan in case anyone really ever started digging into it, but no one did as far as I know.” I rub my chin. “And there’s one more part.”
“Okay,” she says.
“There was a little bit written about it at the time,” he says. “But you can’t find it because Petty paid some service to scrub it from Google.”
“I’ve read about those,” she says. “People use them when terrible stuff shows up about them or they want to hide something. They’re expensive.”
“Yeah, they are,” I tell her. “But he paid for it and never told me about it until it was done. He didn’t want schools backing away from me because they thought I was a problem. I’m sure some did, but I never heard anything about it.”
It’s quiet for a minute. It feels good to have unloaded all of that. I haven’t talked about it in a long time.
“So that was it,” I say. “That’s the whole story. I’ve never done anything wrong, but I’d do it again in a heartbeat for my mom. She still works at the church, so I think she still worries that they’ll find out. She doesn’t smoke anymore because she doesn’t need to and she told me to just tell you, that she doesn’t care anymore. I don’t think that’s true, but that’s just sort of how she is now. She worries more about me than she does herself.” I look at Lila. “So now you know. Everything.”
Chapter 32
LILA
I’m listening to everything he’s telling me and I almost can’t believe any of it.
Not because I don’t think he’s telling me the truth.
But because it’s all pretty terrible.
And it brings up some things for me that I’ve tried not to think about for a long time.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask. “Why did we have to go through all of this to get to right now?”
He leans his head back against the head rest. “Because I don’t know you. And I don’t want it out there. I don’t trust anyone.” He tilts his head in my direction. “Anyone. I get what your goal is in writing a story and I get that I’m a big ticket, but I don’t want people fucking up my mom’s life.”
“I don’t want to fuck up your mom’s life,” I tell him. “That’s not my intention. At all.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Whatever. I just figured since you weren’t going to stop it was better if it came from me.” He glances at me. “Now you know and you can do whatever you want with it.”
“Do you get how it all looked a little different than what you’ve just told me?” I ask. “I had no idea this was the reason for your suspension. No one would know that.”
“They will now, I guess.”
“Why do you just assume I have some ulterior motive?”
He shrugs again. “It’s kind of your job, isn’t it?”
“Let’s get a couple things straight,” I say. “Look at me.”
He hesitates then rotates his head in my direction.
“One, this isn’t a job the way you mean it is,” I tell him. “I’m not getting paid to do this story. I’m a journalist, but I’m still an amateur. Just like you. I’m not a pro. So I’m not looking to find some dirt on you and write some cutthroat piece.”
He makes a face and looks away.
I reach out and grab his arm. “I’m not done. Look at me.”
His eyes move to my fingers on his forearm, then to my own gaze.
“And two, even if this was a job and I was a pro, I wouldn’t be doing some hit piece on you,” I tell him. “I’m not that kind of writer now and I don’t intend to be that kind of writer when I graduate. I’m not going to work for the Enquirer or some tabloid piece of shit. I want to be good at what I do and write about things that matter, but I have absolutely zero interest in wrecking people’s lives.”
He doesn’t look away this time. Now he’s locked in on me, those blue eyes like lasers.
Jesus.
Now, I’m the one that has to look away for a second.
“I can’t believe you think I’d do anything that would jeopardize you or your mother,” I say. “I’ve never even thought about something like that.”
“You’ve been chasing the suspension.”
“Yeah, because it’s a part of your history and no one wanted to talk about it, so of course I was curious,” I say. “Of course I was. That’s why I want to be a writer. I’m nosy. I look for details. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to use them if they’re going to hurt people.”
“How am I supposed to know that?” he asks. “You show up and then it seemed like all of a sudden all you cared about was the suspension. We made the bet, I agreed to let you follow me, and then all you care about is the one thing I don’t want to talk about.”
“It wasn’t the only thing I cared about,” I say, turning back to him. “You know that. It’s what you decided I cared about. And then you just shut down.”
“Because I don’t trust you.”
“Maybe you should try.”
“Do you know how many people want a piece of me?” he says, leaning closer. “Do you have any idea? Agents, scouts, girls. Everyone wants to get tight with me. So I don’t trust anyone until I know I can trust them. You going behind my back and going to see Petty and calling my mom?” He stares at me. “That doesn’t exactly scream trust, okay?”
“Well, you wouldn’t talk to me,” I say, knowing we’re just going around in circles. “Maybe you needed to stop for a second and realize I wasn’t out to get you. If you’d just given me a second and looked at me and listened to me, then maybe you would’ve figured it out.”
I realize my hand is still on his arm and I let go of him.
But he grabs my wrist.
I look at him.
The cab of the truck feels much smaller now.
I can hear his breathing.
“I did look at you,” he finally says. “I keep looking at you.”
My heart beats faster.
“I can’t stop looking at you,” he whispers. “But I don’t know if I trust you.”
I swallow hard. “You can trust me.”
He blinks once, then leans toward me, pulling me gently toward him.
I don’t resist.
His lips are on mine, gently at first, then with more urgency. My heart hammers inside my chest as he pulls me closer. I breathe him in, the scent of his soap, the scent of his skin.
His mouth opens and his tongue touches mine, a touch that both startles and scorches me. A whimper escapes my lips and he kisses me harder, his hand sinking into my hair, his thumb stroking my ear.
And it’s like we’ve both been unleashed. All of the pent up aggression between the two of us, all of the anger, the frustration, and that te
nsion I haven’t been able to identify, just ignites right there in his truck.
I get my arms around his neck, our lips still locked together, and climb into his lap. I’m straddling him, my back pressed up against the steering wheel, but I don’t care. I just want to touch, to taste, to feel every inch of him.
His arms are around me, pulling me in tightly to him. I can feel how hard he is beneath me and I rock my hips against his. He grunts and kisses my neck. His hands find their way under my shirt, his fingers like fire on my skin. He traces his fingertips up my ribcage, then dips them under my bra. I suck in a breath as his hand grazes my breast
I groan and grab onto his hair, pushing my hips hard against him as his hand closes over me, gently squeezing. He lifts up into me and I groan again.
He lifts my shirt up and suddenly his mouth is on my stomach, trailing hot kisses on my flushed skin. I pull his head into me, holding him against my breath, gasping as his mouth envelops me. Every inch of my skin is on fire. I lean down and bite the top of his ear. His fingers dig into my hips.
“We need to stop,” I whisper into his ear.
He brushes my nipple with his teeth and I shiver.
“Why?” he growls.
I don’t have a good reason.
He pulls back and looks up at me. I can feel his breath on my lips. His eyes are glassy and his face is flushed. He’s just as turned on as I am.
“You want me to stop?” he whispers.
I answer him by smashing my mouth into his, devouring him.
He slides his hands down over my hips, then down to my thighs. One hand is inside my shorts, along the inside of my thigh. I lift up on my knees because I want him to touch me. His fingers take their time and I moan when he slips one inside of me.
“You’re wet,” he whispers into my ear.
His finger is in exactly the right place and I rock my hips against him. I reach down between us and unbutton his shorts. I slide back a bit and he pushes back into the seat so I can get my hand inside. I wrap my hand around him, loving how smooth he feels, how he pulsates in my grip. He groans and pushes into my hand.
“And you’re hard,” I whisper into his ear.
Our breathing is loud inside the cab of the truck as we move against one another. The heat is rising inside of me and my face is buried against his neck. He has one hand between my legs and one on the small of my back, pressing me against him. I move my hand up and down on him.
“Lila,” he says, his voice a raspy whisper. “Fuck.”
I’m moving my hips quicker and keeping my grip tight on him.
And then light fills the cab and we both freeze.
Chapter 33
HOUSTON
I have to turn away, the light shining in through the windshield is so bright.
“What the hell?” Lila says, twisting around.
Her hand comes off my dick and it almost hurts.
Because I was right there.
She slides off of me to the side, tugging her shirt down, and squinting into the light with me.
It takes a second, but my eyes adjust and I realize it’s headlights pointed at my truck and that a guy is standing outside, a flashlight in his hand that is pointed at the windshield.
And he’s a cop.
“Shit,” I whisper, reaching down carefully and pulling the waistband of my shorts back in place.
Lila shades her eyes with her hand like we’re at the beach and sees the same thing I do. “Oh, shit.”
The cop finally lowers the flashlight, which doesn’t do much to cut down on the light streaming into the truck, and then walks around to my side, motioning for me to lower the window.
I push the button on the door and the window lowers. “Uh, hi.”
“Good evening,” he says. “I’m Officer Whitson with the Baymont Police Department.” He peers into the cab, past me. “I was on routine patrol and saw your vehicle as the only one in the lot. Can I ask what you’re doing here?”
“Uh…we…we were just talking,” I say.
He nods, then looks past me again. “You alright, miss?”
“I’m fine,” Lila says. “We were just talking. I don’t think we realized how late it was.”
The officer looks at her, then nods. “Okay. Can I have a look at your license, registration, and insurance, please?”
I pull my wallet from the pocket of my shorts and get him my license. I reach over and open the glove box and pull out the registration and insurance card. I hand those to him. “We’re students. At Baymont.”
He takes the paperwork and nods. “Alright. I’ll be right back. Please remain in the vehicle and leave the window down.”
“Yes, sir,” I say.
We watch him walk back to his car, crossing between his vehicle and my truck. He slides in behind the wheel, but keeps his door open.
“Well, this is fucking great,” Lila says. “Shit.”
“It’ll be fine,” I say.
“Pretty sure he knows we weren’t just talking.”
“Just be cool. It’ll be fine.”
She leans against the passenger window. “What the hell were we thinking?”
“I can tell you what I was thinking.”
She frowns. “Not the time.”
“Pretty sure he catches people like this all the time,” I tell her. “College kids fucking around in cars on campus? I think that’s probably a regular thing.”
“Well, I didn’t plan on being one of those kids,” she says.
“Well, I didn’t, either,” I say. “Don’t blame me.”
“I’m not blaming anyone,” she says. “I’m just…never mind.”
We sit in silence, waiting for the cop to come back. I’m breathing normally again, and my mind goes back to how we’d gotten into this situation in the first place. I didn’t know what Lila was going to do when I reached for her wrist. I thought there was a chance she’d punch me, not because I was trying anything, but just because she always gets so worked up. But then she just looked at me and I knew we were on the same page and I’ve never wanted anyone more than I wanted her right then.
The cop gets out of his car and walks back to the truck. He hands me my license and the other paperwork. “Thought I recognized you. Baseball player, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright,” he says, then he leans lower. “Miss, I assume you are okay being in the car with Mr. Cade?”
“Yeah,” Lila says. “It’s totally fine. We weren’t…it’s fine.”
The officer nods. “Alright then. I am going to ask you to go ahead and leave, as this is a permitted lot, even in the middle of the night.”
“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll go now.”
“You two drive safely,” he says. “And good luck on Saturday.”
“Thanks.”
I roll up the window, start the truck, and pull out of the lot.
Lila doesn’t say anything as we drive back to her place. I don’t know if she’s mad at me or the cop or what, but she’s giving me nothing and I don’t know what to do with it.
I pull to the curb in front of her apartment and turn the truck off.
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” she finally says.
“I mean, I guess he could’ve given me a ticket for being in the lot, but—”
“Not that,” she says, turning to me. “I mean, the suspension.”
I’m surprised that’s what she’s talking about.
But maybe I shouldn’t be.
“I mean, you were taking care of your mom,” she says. “People are going to understand that. And if people are supportive of that, there’s no way her employer is going to fire her. The blowback would be pretty huge. I don’t think it reflects badly on you at all.”
“It will embarrass my mother,” I say. “And it will scare teams away come draft time.”
“Yeah, but won’t those teams find out anyway? Isn’t that what they do? Investigate the guys they want to invest money in?”
“
Yeah, but it’ll be different,” I tell her. “I can sit down with them. My mom can sit down with them. I’ll have an agent. It all goes a lot different when you can control how it comes out.” I shake my head and turn the truck back on. “I gotta go.”
“Houston, I—”
“I gotta go,” I say again. “You can do what you want with the story. I don’t care.”
“Hey, I’m just saying that—”
“I have to go,” I say, hitting the gas pedal so the engine roars.
“Are we even going to talk about—”
“No,” I tell her. “Nothing to talk about. Probably good that cop showed up when he did. I don’t need any bullshit with the season starting.”
“So that was bullshit?” she asks, her eyes flashing. “Before he rolled up and you were about to come all over the place? That was bullshit?”
“You can call it whatever you like,” I tell her. “Get out so you can go write your fucking story.”
She shakes her head for a second, then shoves the door open. She whirls around to stare at me. “You think I went with you just to get a story? You think I listened to you just to get a story? You think I let you do everything you did to me because I wanted a story? How the fuck does that even make sense?”
I stare at her for a second.
“Just shut the fucking door,” I say.
She slams it into place and I tear away from the curb half a second later.
And I don’t check the rearview mirror.
Chapter 34
LILA
“It was stupid,” I say. “Utterly fucking stupid.”
I’m sitting on the couch and Shea is across from me. I went right to bed after I got home, but tossed and turned more than I slept. Now, it’s Friday morning and Shea is eating a bowl of cereal while I tell her about my night.
“Yeah,” she says as she brings a spoonful to her mouth. “You could’ve just come back here. I wouldn’t have minded.”