The Hook Up (Game On Book 1) (36 page)

THE LOCKER ROOM reeks of mud, sweat, and defeat. I sit alone on the bench in front of my locker and stare down at my hands. Hands that managed to perform the three fumbles, four incompletions, and the interception that lost the game. Worst fucking game of my life.

Each breath I take sends shards of agony along my bruised back and hips. My head pounds so hard I fear my eyes will pop out. Low murmurs bump about on the air, but no one talks to me. I don’t blame them. I am their leader, and I’ve let them down.

It’s worse when Rolondo gives me a quick pat on the shoulder. “Happens, man,” he says low and just to me. “Ain’t nothing but a thang.”

I want to shrink down inside myself then. I’m the one who threw him the shitty passes, making
him
look bad on that field. That he knows why I’ve fucked up and isn’t killing me over it has my throat closing.

Sweat trickles along my temples and burns in my eyes. But I don’t move to wipe it away. I wait, quiet until the guys shower and change. Until they leave me.

I shower alone, standing under the hot water as a lump fills my throat, and then I turn off the taps. I’m dressed and zipping up my bag when Gray comes back in.

He looks at me for a long moment, his brows bunched together in a scowl. Yeah, I’ve fucked him over too. “Sorry” seems too trite.

His voice cuts through the silence. “Look, man, you’ve got to know I love you like a brother.”

“Your brothers are all dicks.” It’s an old joke, said many times before, but my voice sounds like gravel and feels like glass against my throat. Humiliation crawls over me. Everyone loses now and then. But not like this, not by being a fucking bonehead and throwing away a game.

A small smile cracks his face. “Total dicks.” He ambles in further. “More than a brother, then.”

I want to smile, want to pretend it’s all-good. But I can’t even look him in the eyes. I know I’ve got whatever it is he’s going to say coming to me. God knows I heard more than an earful from my coaches.

“I don’t want to bust your balls,” Gray continues. “So I’ll just say this once. Get your head out of your ass and get over this chick.”

Easier said than done.

“We need your head on right, Drew. I appreciate you being upset for a while, but enough is enough. A piece of ass is not worth this shit.”

My head jerks up. I glare at Gray, not daring to open my mouth. But he simply shakes his head and steps closer. “She’s just some lying bitch—”

I don’t remember moving. A red haze fogs my vision as I slam him into the wall, my fists clutching his shirt. “Don’t you ever…” I grind out through my teeth before my jaw locks.

Gray’s mouth falls open. “What the fuck?”

Shit. Gray has been shoved around enough by people who are supposed to care about him. I step back, abruptly letting him go, and he sags a second before pushing upright, getting into my face.

“You’d fucking attack me over her?”

Taking a deep breath, I back away. “I didn’t mean to do that. Just don’t… Don’t talk about her that way. She’s not a bitch.”

“I cannot believe this.” Gray looks me over as if I’m a stranger. “Are you kidding me?”

I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. “You want someone to blame? Then blame me. I’m the one who lost the game, not…” I can’t say her name.

“She dumped all over you!” His face is red.

I run a hand over my head where it aches so bad that my vision blurs. “She never lied. I did that to myself.”

His eyes narrow as he stares at me, and then his brows lift high. “You’re in love with her.”

Fucking headache. My eyes are filling now. I blink once, hard and desperate. Gray looks away, as if he’s embarrassed for me. Heat prickles over my skin. “I’m sorry I let you down.” I head for the door. “It won’t happen again.”

IRIS HAS DISAPPEARED. She didn’t come home on Friday night. Or on Saturday. Since she’s currently without boyfriend, I worry. Iris doesn’t do hook ups. It took her six months just to have sex with Henry for the first time. So the fact that she isn’t here bothers me. As does the fact that she isn’t answering her phone or the ten texts I’ve sent her.

My worry grows, and I call George to ask if he knows where she is, which is the wrong thing to do because George goes deadly quiet on the other side of the line.

“You mean to tell me Friday is the last time you’ve seen her, and you’re just calling me now?” George replies in a voice I’ve never heard before.

I cringe, my grip on the phone tightening. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Shit.” George lets out a heavy breath.

Cold sweat breaks out along my back. “I thought she was with you. She
said
she was with you.”

George explodes. “
Puta mierda! Pendejo, maricon
...”

That he’s cussing in Spanish makes me more afraid. Like Iris, George never does that unless he’s beside himself.

He takes another audible breath before speaking again. “She fucking said she was going out with you!”

“You don’t think she’s with—”

“Yeah, I fucking do,” George snaps. “I swear to God, I want to kick that little
pendejo
bitch’s ass for touching my sister again.”

Because if she’s put both of us off with lies, we know she’s with Henry. And I want to kill her. Death by pillow bludgeoning. Maybe if I beat her on the head enough with one, I’ll knock some sense into her.

“I’m going over there,” George says.

“If you kill him,” I say, “make it look like an accident.” I’m only half-kidding.

George snorts before hanging up.

I’m making myself a frozen waffle and coffee when she finally answers my text-a-thon.

Iris: Chill. I’m fine. And did you have to go and freak out George?

Though relief swamps me, I want to hit her in the head. My thumbnail taps hard against the screen.

Me: Damn right I did. You scared the hell out of us, 'Ris!

Iris: Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It was shitty of me to not call.

Scowling down at the phone, I tap out another message.

Me: Where are you, anyway?

Though I know, I need written confirmation before I kill her.

Iris: With Henry.

Me: WTF, Iris? He CHEATED ON U!

I can practically feel her fuming. The silent phone is a testament to it.

The ding sounds overloud in the kitchen.

Iris: Yeah, Anna, I know. I was there.

I roll my eyes and take a bite of my waffle, which has gone cold and hard. Another ding.

Iris: He had his reasons.

I toss the waffle aside and respond.

Me: Was it the falling into an unsuspecting vagina thing?

Yeah, I’m being a shithead, but I can’t help it. How could she have gone back to him? Has she a freaking clue? He’ll do it again. They always do it again. We’ve discussed this.

Iris: Funny. He was scared, ok?

I snort. But the sound is lost on her. Or maybe not.

Iris: Things were just getting too intense for him.

Me: So he thought he’d simplify it by fucking some girl?

Or girls? Who knows with that assmunch.

Iris: Look, people do stupid things when they’re scared. And you should talk. You totally pushed Drew away because you’re scared.

My face heats and my fingers fly.

Me: I didn’t cheat on Drew! We weren’t even an official couple!!

Iris: Yeah & why is that, A? Because you were ashamed to be seen with him? You treated him like your personal boy toy. How is that better?

Heat swamps my entire body now. It prickles behind my lids, and I want to chuck the phone across the room, see it shatter into a thousand pieces.

Iris: Admit it, we always treat the ones we love the shittiest.

There’s a rushing sound in my head. Bitch. That total bitch.

Me: I don’t love Drew.

Iris: Right. Whatever you say.

I’m punching out letters so hard now that my nail hurts.

Me: We’re not talking about me right now. We’re talking about you.

Iris: And why can’t we talk about you? Why can’t we ever talk about you? Because you have it all figured out? That shit don’t fly, A.

I slam the phone down on the counter. She doesn’t want my help. Fine. Let her screw up her life. I’m done. Except I pick up the phone and tell her exactly that.

Iris: That’s right. It’s my life. My mistakes to make. And at least I’m trying. What R U doing about your mistake?

Me: There’s nothing to do.

I’m not going to cry. Even if the tip of my nose feels numb and there’s a lump in my throat the size of an apple.

Iris: Call him? Say you’re sorry?

The phone in my hand shakes as I suck in big breaths of air.

Me: He’s MOVED ON! OK!?! He moved the fuck on. End of story.

And so did I. It was over before it even began, and I’m fine. I’m fine.

When the phone rings, I pick it up out of habit. I don’t even say a word, just accept the call.

Iris’s voice comes through soft and hesitant. “Hey, girl. I’m sorry. That was harsh of me.”

“It’s okay,” I mumble. I’d rather run naked through campus than talk to her right now, but hanging up would just make it worse. Iris would hunt me down eventually.

Iris sighs. “Look, I know you’re just trying to protect me, okay? And I love you for it.”

Kind of hate you right now, Iris.

Which she must know, because she keeps pushing. “And what I said about you and Drew…” She pauses. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an insensitive bitch about the whole thing. I didn’t realize… Just. Just take it easy this weekend, Banana. Okay?”

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Sure.”

“I gotta go,” she says. “Henry’s up and—”

“Right.” I toy with the handle of my mug. “Okay, then.”

We hang up with awkward mumbles of goodbye.

FOR THE FIRST time, I am not happy that it’s my birthday. I’m not in the mood to celebrate. Drew’s birthday was yesterday. And though I’m the jerk who pushed him away with both hands, somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d planned to celebrate our birthdays together. At the very least, I’d have found a way to be with him on one day or the other. Who did he celebrate it with? Will he think of me today?

Sitting on my bed in the empty apartment, I curl over on myself, pressing a hand to my chest. When is the pain supposed to end? I feel so hollow, yet so heavy with hurt that I can barely move. Sleep is no longer a comfort. Every moment I’ve spent with Drew plays in a loop in my head. When I wake, my pillow is damp and my cheeks are tight with dried tears.

I’m walking out to meet George downstairs when I trip over the box on my doormat. It’s a present, fairly large and square, and done up in plain white paper and a black ribbon. An envelope is tucked under the ribbon. I can’t see any writing on it, but instantly my heart is thumping so loud I hear its thud in my ears. I’m almost afraid to pick the present up. From outside, a horn blares.