The moment the ball is hiked to me, I’m looking everywhere. Left. Right. Left again. None of my receivers are open. And defense is running toward me, feral expressions on their faces as they draw closer.
I panic in my hurry to get rid of the ball.
“Fuck,” I bite out, throwing the ball too wide. It lands in Caleb’s hands as if that was meant to happen.
The problem is he’s currently playing on the defensive side while we practice. Someone knocks into him, taking him to the ground, but I can hear his laughter. Hate how he pops back onto his feet as if it’s no big deal.
“That was shit, Bennett,” he calls, the smile on his face way too big. “I just intercepted your ass.”
“Again,” someone else pipes up.
I give the whole lot of them the finger, disgusted with them.
Disgusted with myself most of all.
Despite it being the end of October, we’re experiencing a weird, yet not so weird heatwave this week. California weather is so freaking unpredictable, and the high today was predicted to be ninety degrees. With the way I’m currently sweating, I don’t doubt that temp at all.
It’s a couple days before Halloween for the love of God. This is all kinds of fucked up.
What else is fucked up? My throwing arm today. I can’t get it right. After being on top of my game all season, throughout every practice and game, I’m playing terrible. Like some sort of fumbling rookie who’s terrified of his own shadow.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t sleep well over the weekend.
Or maybe it’s because I spent most of Sunday afternoon working on a fucking paper that was due today.
I try not to let myself think about Ava or the fact that we had sex for the first time in months, and how great it was…
Until it wasn’t.
I haven’t had sex with freaking anyone since that last weekend in February we were together, and I’ve been playing great ever since.
Is sex ruining me? Is sex with Ava the issue?
I shove that crazy thought out of my head as I stride off the field, ignoring my team’s razzing and insults. I know they don’t really mean it. They’re just giving me shit.
But their words ring in my head and make everything worse, swear to God. I can’t let them get to me. Even more, I can’t let them know they’re getting to me. Then they’ll never let up.
“You all right?”
I turn to find Diego approaching me, his expression concerned.
“I’m great,” I grit out before I whip my helmet off and drop it on the ground. I really want to throw it down the sidelines, but the coaches don’t approve of violent outbursts. If they let it happen during practice, we’re more likely to do it during games and we could get in trouble.
“Really?” Diego scratches his chin. “You’re kind of a mess today.”
“No shit?” I send him a wide-eyed look. “More like I suck complete ass.”
“Something bugging you?”
It’s his tone. The way he’s looking at me. I get the sense Diego knows exactly what’s bugging me. Not that I’m going to mention it to him. Not out here during practice.
After Ava fled the back seat of my car Saturday night in just my hoodie, I sat there for a few minutes, naked and stunned. Then I pulled on my clothes, jumped into the driver’s seat and got the hell out of there before anyone came out to find me. Ended up lying awake in my bed for hours after I got home, reliving the moment with Ava. How good it felt with her, how fucking right we are together.
How I freaked out immediately after it happened, afraid she might be full of regret once she realized what we did, and how I decided in a millisecond to beat her to the punch. She’s the one who told me it was probably a mistake, and that word kept repeating in my head, over and over again. Even while I was fucking her.
That’s why I said all that bullshit about how we shouldn’t have done it. Was it a dick move?
Hell yes, but I’ve been known for making dick moves here and there. It shouldn’t have surprised her.
But it hurt her. More than I thought it would. Worse, it made her mad. Really mad.
What I said ruined any progress we might’ve made before that. That’s why I couldn’t sleep. That’s why I wrote a shit paper. That’s why I can’t throw a ball to save my life today. I fucked up and I know it, and I don’t know how to fix it.
Haven’t mentioned shit to the guys either, but I’m thinking Diego knows what’s up. Which means all those dickheads know what’s up. And they probably think I’m a giant prick, thanks to their girlfriends calling me every name in the book.
I suppose I deserve the name-calling. The hate and the wrath. I’m an insensitive asshole. It’s like I can’t help myself.
“I’m sure you already know what it is,” I say to Diego, annoyed when one of the coaches calls a water break.
That means I have to talk to Diego even longer. With my luck, Tony and Caleb might join us. Sounds like a good time.
Not.
“Jocelyn mentioned something to me, but she didn’t go in to too much detail,” Diego says.
I turn to see Caleb making his way toward us. “Gracie told me that you fucked Ava in the back seat of your car and then told her it was a mistake.”
I scowl. “Say it louder. I don’t think the entire team heard you.”
Caleb grins, the fucker. “I could scream it if you really wanted me to.” He cups his hands around his mouth, like he’s actually going to do what he just said, but Diego smacks one of his arms down. “Ow. I was just fuckin’ with him.”
“I don’t think he’s in the mood to be fucked with,” Diego says, his expression serious. “Unless it’s with Ava.”
The devilish smirk that curves his lips reminds me of the Diego of old. When he was a real asshole and no one liked him. Not even his best friend, Jake.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap at him.
Caleb sends Diego a look. “Yeah, bro. Show some respect.”
“Says the dick who can’t keep his mouth shut,” I mutter, my anger now focused on Caleb. “How about we don’t talk about her at all?”
“How about you figure out what your problem is, and why you’re playing so shitty?” Caleb throws back at me, Diego nodding in agreement. “That girl walks back into your life and throws you completely off balance.”
Caleb’s not wrong, as much as I hate to admit it. I’m really starting to think the problem is…
Ava.
Which is stupid, I know it is. I need to get my shit together and stop making excuses.
Tony approaches us, his expression thunderous. “Leave him alone. Seriously, you two assholes need to take a hike.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and like a pair of kids who just got busted, Caleb and Diego stomp off, sending matching, sullen glares in my direction as they glance over their shoulders.
“Please tell me you’re not going to rip into me,” I say, hating how whiny I sound, but shit. I don’t think I can take a lecture right now.
“I’m not.” Tony’s voice is firm, but there’s genuine concern in his gaze. Doesn’t seem like he’s here to give me a bunch of shit. “You seem to be struggling.”
“You don’t need to sugarcoat whatever you have to say. I’m sure Hayden filled you in on what happened between Ava and me Saturday night.” I throw it right out there so neither of us has to pretend.
Tony winces. “She mentioned a few things. Didn’t go into too many details.”
“You don’t know about that mole at the base of my dick then?” I squint at him, mentally daring him to keep a straight face.
Tony’s always been a tough nut to crack. He doesn’t so much as offer up a smile. “I don’t know those intimate details, no.”
“Whew.” I mock wipe sweat off my forehead. “Thank God.”
“Listen, you can act like this is a big joke to those other assholes, but I can see you’re hurting. You don’t have to pretend with me,” Tony says, taking a step closer. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye in the past, and we’ve never been that particularly close compared to the other guys, but I’m worried about you. And I care a lot about Ava. I’ve known her a long time.”
“I’m worried about her too,” I admit, my voice lowering. “I fucked it up royally with her Saturday night. That was the last thing I meant to do.”
“When you left the party with her, what was your plan?” Tony asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug, defensive. “Get her back to my place and get her naked?”
Tony doesn’t say a word. Just crosses his arms and waits me out.
It’s unnerving.
“I had no plan,” I admit, throwing my hands in the air. “I didn’t know what I was going to say or do. I was just fucking thrilled she left with me.”
“She wanted an apology.”
“Still? I thought we were past that.” And why didn’t she say so?
“Are you?” Tony arches a brow.
“Yeah. Yeah, I am past it. Even though she didn’t choose me. No one ever chooses me,” I say, frustration making my voice raspy.
Or maybe that’s emotion. I don’t know.
A whistle blows. Back to practice we go.
“We’re not finished with this conversation,” Tony says, once I grab my helmet and we’re jogging back out onto the field. “Let’s go grab a beer somewhere after practice. Or dinner. We can talk some more.”
“Fine,” I mutter under my breath.
Blah blah blah. He’ll want to talk about our feelings—excuse me, my feelings. Tony shouldn’t get a business degree. He should become a damn therapist. This guy is always trying to fix everyone.
Maybe that’s why I’ve kept my distance from him. I don’t dislike Tony. He’s a stand-up guy. Great football player. Solid friend, though he’s right. We’ve never been particularly close. Out on the field and with the team, he’s got my back and I’ve got his. But those probing dark eyes of his sort of freak me out, and I’m not looking for a confessional.
I can deal with my own fucking problems, thank you very much.
The rest of practice goes by in a blur. I continue to play terribly. To the point Coach pulls me off the field and puts in the second string. “Just to see what he’s got,” Coach tells me, his tone reassuring.
Marshall Hatfield has a tremendous arm, and he shows it off like any second string would when offered the chance to step up. The guy throws an eighty-yard pass on his first play. Everyone claps and whistles.
I sit on the bench like a pouty baby, scowling as I kick my helmet. Hating the world.
Tony just shakes his head every time he glances in my direction. Diego and Caleb steadily ignore me. I think I scared them.
Good. They’re supposed to be my friends. And friends aren’t supposed to make you feel shitty.
By the time we’re long finished with practice and we’re done showering, Tony approaches me, his damp hair hanging across his forehead and practically covering those all-knowing eyes of his.
“You ready?”
I shut my locker door before turning to face him. “Where are we going?”
“Pizza? Doghouse? I don’t care.” Tony shrugs. “I’ll drive if you want.”
“How about I follow you.”
We decide on pizza—Doghouse Grill will just bring us unwanted attention since so many Fresno State students go there, especially on me. And I’m not saying that to brag. Everyone knows my face in this area, if not the whole damn town, and people will approach me. Ask questions about the team, the season, my future prospects. It’s happened before, and usually I revel in it.
I’d rather be anonymous tonight. And I think Tony senses that.
Once we arrive at the restaurant, we walk in together and I’m glad to see it’s mostly empty. We give our order, splitting a pitcher of beer, and once Tony pays—what a guy—we make our way over to a table in the farthest, darkest corner of the place. Tony sets the pitcher carefully onto the table while I plunk down the glasses.
“Hatfield looked pretty amazing out there,” Tony says, after we sit down and he starts pouring me a glass of beer.
Great way to start the conversation. Like rubbing salt in an open wound.
“He’ll do great next season,” I say as casually as I can.
“It’s okay to have an off-day.” Tony pushes the full mug of beer toward me. “You’re allowed one every once in a while.”
“I can’t afford them.” I take a drink of beer and slurp up nothing but foam, grimacing.
“You put too much pressure on yourself.”
He’s just preaching to the choir.
“Everyone’s looking at me right now. Just waiting for me to fuck up. Then they can point their fingers and say, ‘See, I told you so. He’s a fluke.’” I shake my head. “I know how the so-called fans think.”
“You are so bitter today,” Tony marvels. “I prefer egotistical Eli to everyone hates me, I want to die Eli.”
“Trust me, I prefer that version of myself too,” I mutter.
“You two need to just talk it out.” When I send him a questioning look, he continues, “Ava. You need to talk to her.”
“I don’t know what to say.” I glance down at the old, scarred wooden table, my vision growing hazy, my thoughts full of the beautiful green-eyed girl who’s turned my world completely upside down. I miss her. I’m furious with her. I love her. I don’t want to look at her.
It’s confusing as hell.
“I don’t know what to do. Every time I open my mouth, I ruin it. No one’s on my side. They’re all on Ava’s. Even you guys,” I say miserably.
Tony sighs. “Look, regarding Caleb and Diego. All this trouble between you and Ava reminds them of high school. When it was very much an us versus you mentality. Don’t forget, we were all Jake’s friends first. You mess with Ava, you mess with us too. That’s how we used to roll.”
“That’s how you guys still roll.” I curl my hand into a fist and lightly tap the edge of the table. “I’ve lived with Caleb the last couple of years. He’s one of my closest friends. And that guy is still going to take Ava’s side over mine, thanks to his friendship with Jake.”
“He was just giving you shit.” Tony brushes it off, waving his hand. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“That guy is full of golden advice when he wants to give it.” It’s surprisingly true. I’ve heard many a wise word fall from Caleb’s lips, but not lately.
“Right. But he can also be an idiot who says whatever comes to him at any given moment. Don’t let him bring you down. And don’t think he doesn’t have your back. He does. We all do.” He pauses. “Even me.”
I decide to be brutally honest. “Feels like it was difficult for you to say that.”
“It wasn’t.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “I like you, Bennett. But more than anything, I respect you. You did a complete turn-around this last year. You went from being an emotional player who let every little thing get to you, and turned yourself into a focused QB with solid leadership qualities. The team admires you. They want to please you like you’re our dad or something, and it’s pretty incredible.”
I just stare at him, trying to wrap my head around what he’s saying.
“You’re having an off moment, and you’re letting all of those emotions get in your head again.” He taps his temple with his index finger. “Everything’s living right there, messing with your focus. Your game. What’s going to fix it?”
“I was starting to think having sex with Ava was fucking with my game.” The words fall from my lips without thought. “I mean, look at me. We do it in the back seat of my car and now I can’t play for shit.”
Tony chuckles. “I really doubt having sex with Ava is ruining your game play.”
“Whatever. It’s possible.”
I’m being ridiculous.
I think of us in the back seat Saturday night. How eager I was to get her naked. Get inside of her. And how I ruined it all after we were done. She haunts me to the point of madness. I can see her face right now, just after she pulled on my hoodie, all sex-rumpled and gorgeous, and hurt.
So fucking hurt.
All because of me.
“I’m a dick,” I say, then blow out a harsh breath. I prop my elbows on the table and hold my head in my hands. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Talk to her.” He keeps saying that, everyone does. But it’s not that easy. A conversation isn’t going to fix us.
“I tried that.” I lift my eyes to his. “I ended up fucking her in the back seat of my car and making everything else worse.”
He doesn’t even flinch. God, if I had even fifty percent of this guy’s calmness, I’d be a totally different person. “You love her?”
“Yes,” I croak, sounding like I was just diagnosed with an incurable disease.
“Are you in love with her?”
I lift my head and drop my arms onto the table. “Of course I am. I’ve been in love with that girl for what feels like forever. She lives inside of me.” I rest my hand against my chest like some dramatic emo kid.
“Then why can’t you say sorry for being a jackass and move on? The longer you keep this up, the more you’re driving her away.”
I absorb what Tony just said, watching him drink from his glass. Watching still as he checks his phone. He taps out a quick text, his lips curved into a barely-there smile, and I know immediately who he’s texting.
Hayden.
“You love her?” I tilt my head toward the phone still in his hand.
The expression on his face softens as he thinks of his girl. “Yeah.”
“What if she told you she was going to leave for four months instead of spending her summer with you?” I ask. “Put yourself in my shoes. I rarely saw Ava the last couple of years, thanks to her being in San Diego. We didn’t spend a lot of time together. The college she chose to attend is a six-hour drive away. I snapped up every minute I could with that girl, yet she still wanted to bail on me.”
“She didn’t want to bail on you, she wanted to do something for herself. Something that was important to her. An opportunity that could’ve changed her life and allowed her to see a different part of the world. All she ever wanted was your support, Eli,” Tony says, as if he’s speaking on Ava’s behalf.
“Did the trip to Spain change her life?” I ask, not bothering to wait for his answer. “Because it sure as hell changed mine. I ended up losing her in the process and now I’m all fucked in the head.”
“That’s your own damn fault. And you’re too stubborn to see it.” He takes a swig of his beer before slamming the glass down onto the table. “I thought I might be able to talk to you and make you see what you’ve done, but here you are, bringing up all that old shit when I thought you were moving past it. You’re impossible.”
I open my mouth, about to protest, but Tony keeps talking. “It’s not always about you, you know. You can’t put your abandonment issues on her. She wasn’t abandoning you. She was going somewhere else for a couple of months. That’s it. I don’t know how many times we all have to tell you this.”
“I don’t put my issues on her,” I protest, offended. “And I don’t have abandonment issues.”
“Ha!”
That’s all Tony says. Ha!
I glare at him. He drinks his beer, calm as ever. I remember what I said to him earlier at practice, like a little baby. How everyone leaves me.
My big mouth proving his point.
“Hey guys! Here’s your pizza.”
We both swivel our heads to find a cute blonde standing at the end of our table, holding the pizza high above her head. She slides it onto the table, then drops a stack of paper plates next to it.
“Need anything else?” she asks cheerfully, her gaze swinging to mine. Her eyes widen the slightest bit, as if she might recognize me, and she says, “Aren’t you…”
“No, he’s not,” Tony says, his voice short and rude as hell. “And we don’t need anything else. Thanks.”
“Uh…you’re welcome.” She shoots him a confused look before she wanders off.
“That was mean,” I say, as I reach for a paper plate before I drop a slice of pizza on it.
“I don’t know if I could handle watching some hot blonde who gives off vague Ava vibes fawning all over you and you giving her your number.” He grabs his own slice of pizza before taking a giant bite out of it, plopping it onto his plate.
“I wasn’t going to flirt with her.” I didn’t even realize she had vague Ava vibes. “And I definitely wasn’t going to give her my number.”
Tony snorts. “Right.”
“Hey, I’m a free agent. If I want to flirt with a babe, I can,” I tell him.
“You’re not a free agent. You’re hopelessly in love with Ava, like you just told me.” He shakes his head and I hate seeing the disappointment on his face. Now I feel like this guy is my dad and all I do is ruin everything.
Sucks.
“Man up, Eli,” Tony continues. “You’re almost done with college. You have a chance to play for the NFL, which I know excites you, no matter how much you try to blow it off. Like I said, Man. The. Fuck. Up. Tell her you love her. Tell her you want to be with her. Tell her you’re fucking sorry, bro. Before you lose her for good.”