Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (34 page)

“You look gorgeous,” he told me as his dark eyes gave me an assessing once-over, flickering with strong approval. I smiled at him as I climbed in, settling myself onto the smooth black leather seats with my clutch in one hand. I felt like I could draw strength from it somehow, absorb a little bit of my mother. If she were alive … she'd be pissed at Tyce. Furious. But she'd forgive him, I knew she would. The question was, would I be able to?

“Thanks,” I told Mason as he grinned at me and moved over to the driver's side, climbing in with his dark hair slicked back, his black pants slung low, his shirt a little too tight. He was an attractive guy for sure, just like Tyce's friend Kai, but … it wasn't enough. There was no spark here.
Or maybe you're just so caught up on Tyce, you can't see anything else?
Maybe.

But probably not.

“I hope you're ready for a crazy night out,” Mason said with a laugh, cranking up the stereo on Low Life's “Future”. It wasn't my favorite song in the world (really, really wasn't), but I leaned back and tried to just enjoy the moment. The night was warm for November—which wasn't really warm at all—but it was an improvement over the chilling bite of the last few.
Like last night, when it was freezing ass cold and Tyce Winship slept on your damn porch.

I crossed my arms over my chest and took a deep breath. What was the point of going out if I was going to sit here and daydream about Tyce all day?

I looked over at Mason and made myself smile.

“How was practice today?” I wasn't fishing for information. Seriously. Just trying to make conversation. Mason's hands tightened on the wheel a little, but he grinned back at me, obliterating the speed limit as he headed for New Intentions.

“Fucking amazing actually. Best practice I've had in a while. Tyce was checking out, so I had to step up. Let's hope for his sake he gets his act together or we'll see who takes the Civil War game by storm.” Mason's grin never faltered, not even as he mentioned Tyce.
Checking out.
He was checking out. Of course he was, after sleeping outside on a welcome mat.

I almost groaned aloud.

No. Not fair. He didn't get to push me to the edge, let me snap and then pull this crap. I wasn't giving him the pity card. Sorry. It was my turn to be aloof, weird, run away from things that stressed me out. After the game on Saturday, I guess if he wanted to talk, I'd talk to him then. No sooner.

My phone continued to buzz in my purse with new texts, but I didn't check them. I forced myself to pay attention to Mason, make conversation, talk about his dad who'd been in the NFL, his mom who was obsessed with Selena Gomez.

By the time we got to the club, I was starting to relax, to let my guard down a little.

And then I saw Tyce.

He pulled up right behind us on the street and was out the door of Kai's Mercedes before I could even decide what to do about it.

“Oh hell no,” Mason said, slamming his door hard and coming around the hood of his SUV while I sat there and stared at Tyce. He came right up to me, pushed the door aside and stood there panting. “Did you
follow
us here, you psycho? Are you stalking Teagan or something?” Mason huffed out a harsh breath.

“I need to talk to you,” Tyce said, his voice dark. Different. This was a way different Tyce than the one I'd been seeing since our first meeting in the park. His hands were shaking and his eyes were wide, his mouth pursed into a thin, tight line. “You wouldn't see me, so yeah, I followed you here.”

“Do you want me to call the police?” Mason asked from the other side of the passenger door, like he didn't trust himself to come around it and face Tyce. Or maybe he was just scared of him. Either way, he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and glared.

“No, no, no,” I said, putting my fingers up to my temples and trying to sort out the sudden rush of emotion inside of me. I had to close my eyes against the sight of Tyce, panting and shaking and staring at me like I was the most important thing in the world. I wasn't. Not to him. He'd told me that himself.

But then he'd changed his tune.

I didn't know what to think.

“Tyce, can you please just go?”

“No,” he said firmly, curling the fingers of his tattooed right hand around the edge of the door. “I won't go. Not now. I
really
need to talk to you, Teagan.” I opened my eyes up just in time to see him glance at Mason.
Is that what this is, a jealousy stunt?
But that's not what it felt like. It felt real. And I felt like I was going to throw up. “I've been warring with myself for weeks. Hell, for
years.
I said it was because you weren't my number one, Teagan, but really it's because I knew you would be. When you looked at me at Melia's, like I'd killed your soul, I … I don't know. But then when I came to talk to you, you were pummeling the shit out of that girl and I could tell that I'd broken you.”

“I'm not broken, Tyce,” I whispered, but my head felt dizzy and suddenly I wasn't so sure that I wanted to go out anymore. I stared down at the borrowed black heels on my feet and tried to take slow, easy breaths.

“Okay, then cracked. Chipped. Whatever. And I'm not promising that things are going to perfect and rosy all the goddamn time, but just … give me the time of day. Let me have a fucking second to say everything I need to say. Maybe we … can try this out.”

I looked into his eyes, into those two rings of sapphire lined with gold, like the sun on the ocean. So deep, so impossible to understand. I didn't know what to do.

“What's your favorite color, Tea?” he asked suddenly, randomly. “You didn't tell me, and I need to know. I need to know that and a million other things. That's why I said try. Because we're still strangers, me and you. We have a history, but we need time together. That's what I'm saying. I want to try us together and figure this out.”

“I …” What he was saying made sense. It did. It was what I'd wanted from day one … sort of. But still, all the maybes and the tries … didn't feel like
enough.
I wanted to be swept up and consumed and engulfed. I knew Tyce had that in him. Maybe he just didn't have it in him for me? “I'm sorry, I can't talk right now.”

I hopped out of the SUV and Mason shoved the door closed, almost catching Tyce's fingers in it. That gave me a chill, but I pushed it aside, ignored it. My brain was clouded and foggy and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

“Teagan,” Tyce pleaded, but Mason stepped in front of him, blocking him from me. Tyce curled his hands into fists, but he stepped back, breathing hard, eyes closed. “When can we talk?”

“I don't know,” I said, trying to calm my heart rate. “Maybe Saturday, after the game.”

“Before,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “
Please.
”

I squeezed my clutch so hard that my knuckles hurt. His face … the pain on his face. It was his own fault, I knew. But I still wanted to ease it away with my fingers, my lips, touch the smooth hardness of his arms and shoulders. I still wanted him. But he was going to have to work for it—especially after that Jia thing. I wasn't even sure
if
I could forgive that. I took another deep breath.

“Okay. Tomorrow. After you're done with your morning practice, you can pick me up and we can do coffee again.”

Tyce opened his eyes and stared at me over Mason's shoulder.

“For now, I'm going to go in that club and dance and hang out with my friends. You, you're going to go home and get some sleep, okay?” Tyce didn't say anything as I turned and started towards the doors to the club, pausing once to look back at him.

“Oh, and by the way, my favorite color … is blue.” A pause. “Like sapphire.”

Inside the club, the music was loud and punchy, hitting me right where it hurt. It thumped and throbbed and dragged my body into the crowd to dance with Mason. Drinks were passed around, but I didn't take any, sticking to soda instead and focusing on the movements of my body, the sweat dripping down my skin.

Try us together.

Tyce wanted to try.

Do I want to give in, let him in?
If I did, it would mean more fucking on trees and in tunnels, more phone sex and fights and misunderstandings. But if he went into this knowing,
trying
, then maybe it would be different. Maybe he'd stop running and using me and hurting me and maybe things would be … good. Right. Perfect.

I have to know,
I told myself as I danced the hours away, spinning and twisting and sending the red lace of my dress flying.
I have to.

I thought of Jia and my fists slamming into her face, the way I felt when Tyce told me he didn't love me enough, the cold air on my bare legs as I struggled to pull up my pants with blood on my thighs.

All of that was bad, but being away from Tyce … that was the worst.

“Sorry if I'm being kind of a downer,” I told Mason when we took a break to sit at the bar. I ordered a Coke and he grabbed himself another round of shots, choking back three before he even paused to breathe. When he looked over at me, he seemed okay. Disappointed, but okay. “I just … there's something between Tyce and me that needs to be worked out.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Mason said, making himself smile. It didn't feel very genuine, but I was flattered he was so bummed out. I reached down and straightened the red lace of my dress. My gaze wandered up and back to the crowd, to the black-on-black-on-black walls, floor and ceiling. I wondered what it would be like to come here with Tyce, dance with him.

I guess if I said yes to all of this, I'd get to try.

Try.

Maybe trying would be good enough? Maybe it'd have to be?

I glanced back at Mason, his phone in his hand, his thumb sending off a text that I didn't see. When he looked up, he smiled again.

“One more dance and I can take you home?”

“I really am sorry,” I said, but he just shrugged like it was no big deal. I picked up my clutch, finished off the rest of my soda, and let him lead me onto the dance floor. There was another song on that I didn't recognize, but that was okay. The beat was good, the feeling of dancing was soothing. That, too, reminded me of my mom. Of Tyce. Of the three of us together.

I felt some of that rage I'd directed at Jia start to fade away, fall through the cracks.

By the time the song was over, I was actually starting to feel pretty good, almost like I was drunk. I hadn't had a single drink, but I figured it was just the high of the night, the energy in the club, seeing Tyce.

What's your favorite color, Tea?

I smiled at that, just a little, but when the dancing slowed and last call went around the bar, Mason gestured with his chin.

“You ready?” he asked and I nodded, stumbling a bit when he held out his arm and gave me a raised brow. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” I said as I rubbed my head and stepped out into the cool November air. It felt better out here, but not great. Sweat was pouring down my face, soaking into the red lace fabric of my dress. “I just … think I overdid it in there.”

Mason nodded and started walking me back to the car. With each step I took, things got a little more topsy-turvy and I stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk. Nausea roiled in my tummy as Mason helped me to my feet, but I didn't think much of it.
I'll get home and climb into bed, worry about everything else tomorrow.
I figured it was probably stress induced. I'd certainly had my fair share of that lately.

As we passed an alley two buildings down from the club, Mason paused and pulled me into it, pushing my back up against a dirty brick wall, the bumpy sidewalk spinning and twisting underneath my feet.

“What are you doing?” I asked him as his face swum and flickered. I took a sharp intake of breath, but it didn't help. I was feeling relaxed, but not in a good way. More like I was drowsy, like I was drunk although I knew I wasn't.

“Tyce Winship can't have fucking everything,” Mason whispered into my ear, making me shiver. But not in a good way. I felt so sick in that moment, ten times worse than anything I'd felt during my fights with Tyce. Something was wrong. So, so wrong. I put my hands up to Mason's chest to push him away, but all I could do was curl my fingers in his t-shirt. “He doesn't
own
fucking everything.”

Mason pressed a slimy kiss to the side of my face along my jaw.

I shoved at him, or at least I tried to, but I felt weak, dizzy, not like myself.

My heart started to flutter with panic.

Be careful, okay? Keep a hand over your drink at all times.

Had I? I couldn't remember. I thought I had, but maybe … I pushed harder and Mason snatched my wrists in one hand, holding me like I was made of straw. My strength was completely drained, that power I'd used to haul Jia onto the couch, emptied. My vision flickered again as I slumped back into the wall, closing my eyes as Mason kissed his way down my neck. I could feel his erection pushing into me, turning my stomach with nausea.

This can't be happening. I can't believe this is happening.

“Mason,” I slurred, trying to get him to stop, to back up, to leave me alone. I just wanted to be left alone. “Please don't.”