Filfthy (18 page)

Z
ane

“
E
verybody here now
?” Coach Roberts yells above the low drone of a bunch of meat-headed football players gathered in an enormous conference room at team headquarters Tuesday afternoon.

The seat beside me is empty, and I pull out my phone to send a quick text to Delilah. We’re supposed to start Game of Thrones tonight, and I need to remind her to pick up a pizza from the grocery store.

We’re like a couple in many ways.

But we’re not.

The best way to describe things lately is that we’re both comfortable. No one’s trying too hard. Egos are set to the side. We’re just hanging out. Fucking like rabbits. And making each other laugh.

In fact, I can’t even remember the last time we argued about anything bigger than pizza toppings or what show to watch on Netflix next.

Delilah’s a cool girl, and I’m going to miss the hell out of her when she’s gone.

A body fills the chair beside me followed by a gush of perfume. Whipping my head to the side, my blood runs cold when I see a smiling Carissa scooting closer.

“Hey there.” Her lips spread wide, and she has the audacity to place her hand on my forearm.

I glance up where her father sits a few spots down at the head of the table.

“What are you doing here?” I keep my voice down.

She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Just had lunch with my father. It ran late, so I decided to tag along so he’d be on time.”

How dutiful.

I turn away from her, toward Kai and Weston at my right, and I insert myself into their conversation.

Carissa’s finger jabs into my side. Releasing an inaudible groan, I turn back to face her.

“So, I was thinking,” she says. “The Kick Off party is in a few weeks. Do you want me to wear a red dress? Or white? White is more summery, but red is ridiculously sexy. I’ll wear whatever you want, babe.”

My teeth grit. She’s taking this agreement to a whole new level already.

“Wear whatever you want,” I mutter, turning back to the guys.

She taps me again. “Red or white, Zane. Pick one. You need to be involved in the planning of our big date.”

My hard stare snaps toward her. “Big date?”

Carissa grins wider than a child going to Disney World. “I’m so excited. We’re going to have a blast. And I have something special planned for us afterwards, so-”

“Whoa. No, no, no.” I glance up to make sure her dad isn’t listening in. “I didn’t agree to anything after. We’re going to the party for a couple hours. Then this whole thing is done. You promised.”

“The party goes from eight to midnight,” she says. “We’ll be there the entire time. I think it’d be in poor taste for the star running back and the owner’s daughter to skip out early, don’t you think?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you afterwards,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Bad idea, Zane.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is my night. You promised me one date.”

“Yeah. The party is the date.”

She swats her hand across my shoulder. “The party is a professional obligation. The real date doesn’t start until the last guest leaves.”

Goddamn it.

“You guys ready to get started?” Coach Roberts’ Southern drawl booms throughout the room.

“My answer’s still no,” I whisper to Carissa.

Her eyes, squinting at the corner, light with determination, and she tips her head up just enough to silently inform me she won’t be backing down.

Dragging in a slow, heavy breath, my gaze lifts in time to see Carissa’s father staring at the two of us, his face perceptive and stern. In that instant, Carissa flashes him a happy smile and scoots closer to me, placing her hand on mine.

Jesus Christ.

He smiles at his daughter, then returns his stare to me, expression fading.

He’s looking at me like he wants to kill me.

Or like he’s looking for an excuse to cut me from the team.

And I know right then and there, one wrong move and I’m gone from the team.

Carissa’s really fucked me over this time.

I feel her watching me, beaming like I belong to her – like I’m some shiny new toy her daddy brought home from the store.

My fist is gripped tightly around a sharpened pencil. It snaps in half, and Kai Santana leans in and whispers, “What the fuck, man?”

D
elilah

“
Y
ou’ve been
busy this week.” I plunk my beach towel on one of the chairs in Zane’s backyard and simultaneously admire the rock hard eight-pack he has going on. It’s rare that I actually get to see it before the sun goes down, and out here it’s bronzed and glorious.

“Yeah. It’s getting to be about that time.” He flips his sunglasses up and shamelessly drinks me in from head to toe as I slide my shorts off and yank my tank top over my head. “Is that new?”

I pluck one of the strings of the neon peach bikini that covers my body. “You like?”

“I love.”

Taking the seat beside him, I swipe the bottle of suntan lotion he’s holding and slather myself in coconut-scented cream. I’m going to miss these lazy summer days. The smell of chlorine in my hair. The taste of Zane’s lips on mine. The feel of our skin, warm and melded together.

I let out a sigh, staring ahead at the way the breeze kisses the top of the water and sends a wave of ripples rolling across it.

“You going to swim today?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’ll do some laps.”

He’s awfully quiet. More so than usual. And when he slides his sunglasses over his eyes, it does very little to mask that contemplative look on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask. I’m sure he has a lot on his mind. Since we got back from Chicago last week, I’ve only seen him twice. Between his meetings and personal training sessions and charity events and team socials, he’s been almost unreachable.

But he gave me today. Said he was all mine. So I’m taking it. Happily.

Zane groans, lifting his hands behind his neck just enough that his biceps flex, and for a second, I’m willing to forgo this relaxing poolside encounter for a quick romp inside. But I’m sure we’ll get to that later.

“I don’t know.” He stares ahead. “Just keep thinking about how you’re leaving next month. Just went by so fast. And I’m so busy.”

“Aw, so you are going to miss me.” I reach over and gently pinch his shoulder, getting nothing but steely muscles in my grasp.

He turns to me in a moment of rare Zane seriousness. “Of course I’m going to miss you, Delilah.”

Ever since my emotional, naked meltdown in his kitchen a few weeks ago, I’ve stayed completely mum on any talk of what we are, what this is, or how confused it makes me. We’ve focused on fun and fucking, just like we agreed.

But it hasn’t changed the way I feel about him.

I can’t fake the butterflies. I can’t deny the excitement I feel when I know I’m going to see him again. It’s like my entire being comes alive, and I’m weightless, and nothing else exists but him.

I don’t even know what to call it. It’s less than love. More than lust. Better than anything I’ve ever experienced before.

“Is that why you’re sulking?” I insert a teasing lightness in my tone. “Because you’re going to miss me when I’m gone?”

He shrugs, his mouth hardening. “Something like that.”

“Whatever happened to living in the moment?” I ask.

“Sometimes things happen,” he says. “And you have to think about the future because you don’t have a choice.”

I laugh, confused. “What happened?”

He shakes his head, swallows, and lets his arms fall to his sides. Exhaling, he turns back to me.

“Can we talk about something else?” he says. “Like how fucking sexy you look in that string bikini?”

Leaning back in my lounger, I shield my eyes and give him a wink and a smile.

I like us like this. Fun. Carefree. We’ve evolved from the people we once were, turning into even better versions of ourselves.

Fun-Policing his party last month was the best thing that could’ve happened to me.

“Get over here,” he says with a playful growl, reaching for me.

I climb into his lap, straddling him, and his hands slink up my sides. With his fingers slipping under my bikini top, I glance around.

“Come on, it’s broad daylight,” I say, placing my hands on his.

Without hesitation, he lifts me up and carries me inside. He’s always carrying me, this brute of a man, making me feel light as a feather and safe at the same time. I suppose he’s well equipped for it with all those muscles. I’m not complaining. It’s actually pretty hot.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me for very long.” I cup my hands around his strong, square jaw and steal a kiss. A minute later, he lowers me onto his bed, his gaze intense and focused as he tugs my bottoms down my thighs with one slow drag. “For the record, I’m going to miss you, too, when I’m gone.”

Lowering himself over me, he dips down, pressing his lips into my neck and working his way up to my ear. My heart races and my body’s electric. Every time with him feels like the first, and I can never get enough.

With his hands on my hips, he rolls me to the side, lying down and pulling me on top of him.

“Show me.” His voice is low, animalistic, and his hands explore the heat between my thighs, massaging the head of his swollen cock against my pussy. “Show me how much you’re going to miss me.”

Z
ane

I
think I love her
.

That or I’m losing my mind.

Maybe a little of both?

In the last three weeks, we’ve flown to Chicago and back, watched every available episode of Game of Thrones, took private cooking lessons with a Spanish chef to learn the art of the perfect Galician empanada, and challenged each other in dozens of Madden NFL games.

Delilah Rosewood truly is the quintessential girl next door – only better.

“Hey, that superhero movie you wanted to see comes out in two weeks.” She’s hunched over an iPad, sitting at my kitchen island on this Sunday morning as I simultaneously slave over the waffle iron and flip the eggs over easy. “That’s my last weekend here. Did you want to go see it? Maybe we can drive a couple hours to some random small town movie theatre and slip in when the lights go down?”

“Do you even like superhero movies?”

“Not really. But this one looks good. I’ll see it if you want.” She glances up at me, nibbling on her fingernail and looking innocently adorable. “Unless you’d rather go with your friends.”

I point the spatula at her.

“Right. ‘Cause I’d love to share a bowl of popcorn with Kai.” Scrunching my face, I add, “Nah, gorgeous. I’d take you in a heartbeat.”

The sides of her mouth curl and she returns to her tablet as I glance at the calendar on the side of the fridge.

“Two weeks? Oh. Shit.” I plate the eggs before they burn and flip the waffle iron. That’s the weekend of the Kick Off party.

“What? What’s wrong?” she asks.

I shake my head, waving her off. “Nothing.”

“Did you burn something?”

“Nope.”

I haven’t told her about Carissa, and I don’t plan to. She wouldn’t understand. It would put a damper on these last two weeks we have together.

Besides, if it were the other way around, I’d be beside myself with jealousy just imagining her on another man’s arm on a Saturday night. Even if she said it didn’t mean anything. Even if she explained up, down, and sideways that she was coerced into going. It would still hurt just the same.

If I hurt Delilah, I’d never forgive myself.

“I can’t do a movie that Saturday,” I say, checking the calendar one more time. A handful of appointments and meetings are scribbled into Friday’s spot. “Maybe Sunday afternoon? I’ll plan something special. Maybe we’ll take a drive to the coast?”

She rests her chin on the top of her hand and gazes through the window toward the backyard.

“What’s this party you have to go to?” she asks.

“Every year, the owner throws a kick off party just before camp starts. The players are all required to attend. It’s a black tie thing. It’s pretty lame.”

“I’m sure you’ll make the most of it.” She lets it go, and despite the fact that she and I both know we’ve had to keep our little arrangement under wraps all summer, it still makes me feel like a giant piece of shit for not being able to take her.

I bring her plate over and take a seat beside her, watching her tear off soft pieces of waffle as she’s engrossed in some online article about the psychology of advertising.

Two weeks from now, Delilah will sit here for the last time.

Three weeks from now, she’ll be gone.

The reality of that smacks me across the side of the head, weighs me down, and zaps my appetite. I don’t want to eat now. I just want to sit here, watching her, irrationally trying to hold on to the beauty of this present moment before it turns into a future unknown.

D
elilah

“
I
don’t trust packers
. I never have.” Rue tosses some books into a cardboard box Thursday morning, and I hand her the packing tape. “When I moved across the country, they put my stuff in storage in Denver, Colorado for three months, Delilah. Three months!”

I’ve heard this story dozens of times, but I smile and nod and continue carefully wrapping her knick-knacks and placing them in a padded box.

“I appreciate your help here,” she says. “I really do. I just don’t trust many people to handle my things with same kind of love and care.”

“It’s fine, Aunt Rue.” I fold the box corners together and drag the packing tape across until it’s all sealed. This is the tenth box we’ve packed today and we’ve barely made a dent. Aunt Rue’s entire life is scattered about this big house, and we’ve both decided tackling each room one-by-one was the best plan of attack. “This is why I’m here.”

“How are things with you and the boy?” she asks, peering at me from the top rims of her glasses.

“He’s been busy this week. Charity events with the Cougars. Team meetings. Physical therapy. Personal training. There really isn’t an off season for those guys.”

“You sound sad.” She pouts her lower lip.

“Yeah, well. I’ve had fun with him. And in less than two weeks, I’ll be back home.”

“All good things come to an end.” Rue sighs. “Oh, to be young again. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to miss somebody who isn’t even gone yet.”

Rue rises, knees cracking, and claps her hands together.

“I think we’re done for the day,” she says. “You ready to take a load to the new place?”

My hand goes to my phone in my back pocket. I pull it out and check the screen for any missed calls or texts from Zane – not that they could have slipped past me. I’ve been clinging onto this thing lately, desperate not to miss another moment with him as our days together dwindle.

I know he’s been busy, and it’s not like I’m his girlfriend, but I was hoping we could spend time together tonight.

Rue’s doorbell rings, and I pop up. “I’ll get it.”

Seconds later, I’m peeking through the peephole, heart lit when I see who’s standing on the other side.

“Hey.” Zane stands before me, hips wide, wearing navy basketball shorts and a tank top. “I’m going on a jog; you want to come?”

“Oh.” I glance down at my yoga pants and bare feet. “I was just finishing some packing. Rue and I were going to drop off a load at the condo tonight.”

“You guys need help?”

“It’s a three-hour drive. We won’t get home until late.”

“That’s fine. I just want to spend time with you.” He flashes a boyish grin, and I melt on the spot. “Even if that means being stuck in a car with Rue Rosewood for a six-hour road trip.”

“Delilah, who’s at the door?” Rue calls from behind me.

“Just the boy next door.” I smile at him. He smiles back.

God, I’m going to miss this.

“Hi, Zane.” Rue comes out from behind me. “Having a nice afternoon?”

“Was just about to go on a jog, but Delilah mentioned you’re taking a load to the new place. Mind if I tag along and help?”

Rue gives him a side-eyed glance and then peers down her nose at him. “You really want to move my stuff?”

“If I’m being honest, I just want to spend time with your niece before she leaves. These are precious hours we’re burning up here.” Zane pulls his shoulders back, unshaken by Rue’s eagle-eyed stare. He lifts a bicep, curling his arm until the muscle pops out. I giggle. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting of course. You ladies won’t even have to break a sweat.”

Rue tries not to smile. “No sense in me tagging along. I’d just be the third wheel. You two run along. Take your little road trip. Delilah, the keys are hanging up in the kitchen. The address is programmed into the navigation system in my car.”

“You sure you don’t want to come along?” I ask. I feel bad. Although I’m sure there are a million other things she’d rather do around here.

“Nah. I’ll head down to the clubhouse. Maybe have dinner with Ethel and the girls.”

“Ooh. Dinner with the new president. How fancy,” I tease.

“You drive safely now, you hear?” Her gaze is pointed at Zane.

He places his hand over his chest. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

* * *

T
wo hours later
, we’ve loaded every square millimeter of space in Rue’s Lexus with cardboard boxes and we’re jetting down the highway toward Palm Beach with two hours remaining on our drive.

“Eleven days.” Zane taps his palm against the steering wheel to the beat of the Cuban music playing faintly over the speakers, singing along under his breath. “
Ay, candela, candela . . .”

“Yeah.” I lean my head against the cool glass, counting palm trees that we pass. I’m up to one-hundred and sixty-eight so far, though I’m sure I’ve missed some along the way. “I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Me too.”