“This special edition of "Kicked" also includes two full-length bonus novels from my nom de plume, Violet Blaze: "Stepbrother Inked" and "Raw and Dirty". Enjoy!”

Kicked

Kicked © C.M. Stunich 2016

Stepbrother Inked © Caitlin Stunich 2016

Raw and Dirty © Caitlin Stunich 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

For information address Sarian Royal Indie Publishing, 1863 Pioneer Pkwy. E Ste. 203, Springfield, OR 97477-3907.

www.sarianroyal.com

ISBN-10: 1938623983 (eBook)

ISBN-13: 978-1-938623-98-1 (eBook)

Cover art and design © Amanda Carroll and Sarian Royal

"Bebas Neue" Font © Dharma Type

"Lauren Thompson" Font © Jerome Delage

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, businesses, or locales is coincidental and is not intended by the author.

this book is dedicated to love.

because that's what life's all about.

DESCRIPTION

Obsession.

I know the feeling well.

I'm the top draft prospect for the NFL, voted All-American last year, and a God at the University of Oregon.

I didn't get here by fucking around or chasing fantasies—and I'll never forget where I came from. A guy like me only gets one chance to get out, to make something of himself.

Passion.

I thought football was my passion.

But Teagan Fletcher, she's my obsession.

My childhood friend is now a woman with curves for days and hair like fire.

But she also hates me—and I don't blame her.

I want her. But I can't have her.

I need her. But I don't know how to let go.

One way or another, I'll have it all: football … and Fletcher.

Tyce Winship had a serious god complex.

That was the first thing I noticed when I bumped into him for the first time in four years. I stood there in the middle of the park and gaped up at his smirking face. My breath came in quick, panting gasps as my fingers found the edge of Tyce's sweatpants. My nails scraped over the firm hills and valleys of his lower abs as I steadied myself and tried to keep the shock off of my face.

This is so my luck, I thought as I stared up at his bare tattooed chest, slack-jawed and surprised as hell. I go out for a run and literally fall into the arms of my childhood best friend. Not exactly the evening I was expecting.

“Tyce?” I asked, because the second I saw his face, I knew it was him. It was the boy I hadn't seen in years, a boy that had turned into a man. A somewhat famous man if ESPN was to be believed. Hell, I'd even seen him listed in Seventeen Magazine as one of the top ten hottest football players in the country. Hadn't expected to see him out on a deserted trail, a pair of Nike sneakers on his feet and gray sweatpants slung low over his defined hips.

Tyce raised one dark brow at the mention of his name, but his face—his gloriously handsome face—didn't show even an ounce of surprise.

“That'd be me,” he said, his voice that same deep, dark promise of sex and passion that cut straight through me. Of course, I'd never heard that tone directed at me. Now that's a change, I thought as I waited for him to acknowledge me. 'Hey, Tea. Long time no talk. Sorry for abandoning you all those years ago.' “Now how about you tell me your name?”

My … name? I thought as I struggled to gather my thoughts. I was still reeling from the sheer coincidence of the moment, and Tyce was still … smirking at me. His hands were hot on my upper arms, his fingertips rough but sensual as he kept a firm grip on my body. His touch was intoxicating, but it wasn't enough to numb the sting of his words.

“Or are you more the mysterious type?” he continued, still holding me, still not getting it. Tyce Winship was looking down at me like a conquest, like a find, some beautiful girl that stumbled into him in the dark that needed saving. His face said he was pretty damn sure I'd fall into his arms, that he was exactly the casanova that I was looking for tonight. But to me, he was still that angry little boy from two blocks down. That asshole teenager who broke my friends' hearts, who kept me frustratingly close at the same time he kept me at arm's length. Now … he was a haughty jerk with a perfectly defined 'V' of muscles at his hips, a taut tummy, and a chest that got my blood pumping hot and furious.

Oh, and apparently he must also be suffering from memory problems because he didn't recognize me.

“I'm gonna take that as a yes,” Tyce continued as my mind spun in a million different directions and he leaned close—way too close—to my lips. “The mysterious, silent type. I like that.” His lips curved in a sensual smile. The movement of that mouth turned my knees to jelly. “But be careful. Next time you might not have something this sturdy to grab onto.” With a start, I realized my grip was precariously low, my fingers in a hot, sweaty place that they really shouldn't be. But that they kind of wanted to.

“Sorry,” I said automatically as I unhooked my grip and stumbled back, the shock of the moment making me numb, and, for just a split second there, speechless. Not a usual thing for me. I continued to stare back at Tyce, waiting still for that recognition that I so badly wanted. We grew up together, you asshole. Remember me, damn it.

“No apologies necessary,” he said, his sapphire eyes catching the evening's last golden streams of sunlight. “I'm always happy to help a beautiful girl.”

My heart started pounding again, and I found myself having trouble catching my breath. I'd come to Alton Baker Park to run. After all, I'd just moved to a city nicknamed TrackTown, USA so why not try to embrace the local lifestyle? Sweat continued to stream down my face and stray strands of red hair clung to my forehead and my cheeks as I stared Tyce down and tried to figure out what to say or do. I should just walk away and forget I ever saw him, but I was effectively mesmerized by that smile of his.

He was taller than I remembered him, a towering six foot two that made me feel even shorter than usual. And those eyes … had they always been that blue? Two sapphire orbs ringed in gold, the perfect color to offset his chocolate dark hair and that ruggedly sculpted face. His lips looked ripe and moist, wet with sweat, and would've been his most distracting feature had he been wearing a shirt.

I swallowed hard and brushed some hair away from my face, unconsciously wetting my lips at the same time. I didn't mean to flirt. Hell, I was actually starting to get pretty pissed. How could Tyce not recognize me? After all that we'd been through … A part of me had never forgiven him for leaving.

I curled my hands into fists by my sides and listened to the subtle beeping of my Fitbit. It was warning me of my rapidly rocketing heart rate. Approaching the danger zone. Like I needed a warning. I could feel it in my throat.

“You must be a Ducks fan,” Tyce said, taking a step closer to me. It wasn't a question. He looked down at my green and yellow University of Oregon shirt and then lifted up a hand to trace the curve of my side.

His fingers were warm, his touch firm, and when he finally settled his grip on on the round swell of my hip, I felt a distinct tugging sensation in my belly. I was turned on, but I didn't want to be turned on. I wanted to be mad, furious, indignant.

“Not really,” I said softly, registering the confusion on his face. Good, that makes two of us now. The nearby oak cast mesmerizing shadows across Tyce's face, highlighting the strong square shape of his jaw and the high but masculine cheekbones that he'd inherited from his mother. A warm coloring of bronze shaded his skin, complementing the dark tattoos near his hip and down his arm. Those were new. When Tyce had left our hometown four years ago, he hadn't had a single one. “My friend gave me this shirt.”

“Well, then, why don't you let me do you the favor of taking it off? I guarantee by the time we're done, you'll be a huge fan.” Tyce cupped his junk with his other hand and gave me a look that I just knew had a near one hundred percent success rate filling his bed. I bet the girls at the U of O fell all over themselves for an offer like that.

“You don't recognize me, do you?” I asked as I locked my green eyes with his blue ones and waited for something, something that told me the asshole was still human. I mean, I was surprised to see him, and I was hurt, but I wasn't going to let this wreck me emotionally. I'd been devastated when he left; I got over it.

“Shit,” Tyce said, leaning back, his lean body a hard slice of perfection in the cool, green quiet of the park. He was sizing me up, sliding his tattooed right hand into the pocket on his sweatpants. I stared him down, my hands still curled into fists, and waited for him to redeem himself. What are the chances I'd run into him here, now, tonight? We'd both been jogging, and I'd quite literally tripped and fallen right into Tyce.

At the time, all I felt was annoyance. Later on, I'd think it was fate. The thing is, fate isn't always a good thing.

“Have we fucked?” he asked, blinking those long lashes at me, tipping a water bottle back and letting the liquid drip down his throat and onto his chest. Moist droplets slid across the hard swells of his pecks and splattered on the tips of his shoes. When he dropped his head and looked back down at me, I was already shaking mine.

“Never mind,” I said as his brows raised up in surprise. Not used to getting turned down, huh? Well screw you. “Forget about it.” I reset my Fitbit, turned around and started running. If he'd wanted to, Tyce could've caught up with me.

He didn't.

And when I looked back, he was gone.

That's how I started my year at the U of O.

It wasn't how I ended it.

When I got back to my apartment, my new roommate was waiting up for me, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in one hand and a smartphone in the other. The wall between our unit and the next vibrated with a rhythmic thumping bass that I recognized as Rihanna's “Needed Me”. Chelease's face as she looked over at me told me all I needed to know about her feelings on the matter.

I let the screen door slam shut behind me and thanked God that I had an excuse for my flushed skin and red cheeks. My Fitbit continued to bitch at me about my heart rate, so I tore it off my arm and tossed it on the table.

“What's up?” I asked as I reached back and let my hair tumble out of my ponytail. As soon as it hit the back of my neck, it stuck right to my sweaty skin along with everything else. I was seriously going to have to peel my t-shirt off my skin like it was covered in adhesive. So not sexy. And that's how I got to run into Tyce Winship for the first time in forever. Great.

“I hope your run was at least successful,” Chelease said, taking a sip of her wine and then tossing an evil glare over one perfect shoulder. She looked like a model with her flawless skin and trim but feminine form, but acted like a cranky old schoolteacher. I'd only met her a couple of weeks ago and already, I was starting to wonder how we were going to work as roomies. I wasn't exactly a partier myself, but the sound of people having fun just didn't get me worked up like it did her. “Because if you were hoping to relax tonight, you can kiss that wish good-bye.”

“Sorry,” I said as I moved around her and headed into the kitchen to refill my water bottle. I realized as I turned the tap on that my hands were still shaking. I kept telling myself it was just shock, the surprise of such a strange coincidence, but I knew myself better than that. What an asshole, I thought as I remembered Tyce's face as he looked me over. “Have we fucked?” Seriously? “How long has it been going on?”

“They turned on that noise about five minutes after you left,” Chelease said, putting her phone down on the glass and steel coffee table in front of her. All the décor here, the furniture, it all belonged to Chelease. She was into this industrial chic look that wasn't my favorite, but hey, I drove up here with everything I owned stuffed into the back of a rickety old pickup truck, one that I quickly sold for the first month's rent on this place. Right now, this overpriced apartment felt like heaven.

Anything is better than home, I thought as I swallowed hard and tipped back my water bottle. The cool liquid helped soothe the burning ache of memories better left buried.

“I called the cops about twenty minutes ago,” Chelease said as she unfolded her long, lean frame and came to stand next to me in the kitchen. Her dark hair was done up in dozens of tiny braids and swept over her shoulder, falling down her back in a waterfall while mine stuck up and frizzed around my face like the flickering flames of a fire. If I washed and blow-dried it, it was actually pretty, like a twisted sea of ruby strands to frame my pale face. Right then, I'd have killed for Chelease's dark locks. “I doubt they'll even bother to stop by though,” Chelease continued with the smirk of gossip playing on her lips. Her eyes shimmered like bitter coffee as she got ready to spill some secrets on me. “That quarterback is over there tonight. You know, the Prince of Green and Yellow. Like they'd bust a player with a game coming up. This whole town is starstruck.” A shrug of those thin shoulders. I squeezed my water bottle tight, the thin plastic crinkling as liquid streamed over my knuckles.

“Crap,” I said as I turned and dropped it in the sink, splashing droplets all over my already wet shirt.

Chelease leaned on the counter next to me and tried to give me a look that I ignored.

“Don't tell me you have a thing for Tyce Winship, too?” she said with a roll of her eyes. “If I have to hear another girl tell me how handsome he is, I'll scream.” Chelease stood up with a swish of skirts and made her way around the cabinets and over to the wall. Raising a fist, she slammed it into the drywall hard enough to make the pictures rattle. “You hear that, Tyce Winship, I know you're over there and I don't give a shit! Turn that music down!”

“How do you know he's even here?” I asked as I made my way to the window and parted the curtains. Some of the partygoers had spilled down the concrete steps and were hanging out with red solo cups on the lawn below. There was a lot of green and yellow down there, shirts to champion the Ducks, but I didn't see Tyce, thank God.

Two coincidences in one night? I don't think so.

“Oh, he's there,” Chelease said, pouring herself another glass of red wine. “You want some?” she asked, but I shook my head. I already had a migraine building behind my eyes. The last thing I needed right now was alcohol. “Anyway, I saw him jog up the steps without a shirt on. I might not be a football fan, but I'd recognize that ink anywhere.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and dropped the curtains in a flutter of silver fabric.

No. Fucking. Way.

Four years ago, I would've done anything to find him again. Now, I couldn't seem to get rid of the guy. I opened my eyes back up and found Chelease studying me with her gossip eye. If she got a hold of my past, my connection to Tyce, then I might as well take out the front page of the Eugene Weekly because everybody and their grandma would find out about it.

“I'm gonna grab a shower,” I said as I forced myself to smile at Chelease, gesturing at my sweaty clothes in explanation. “If the cops do show up, I'd rather not smell like old gym socks.” Chelease made an mm-hmm sound under her breath, but she didn't stop me from moving down the short hall and barricading myself in my room.

I flicked the lock on my door, like that'd somehow keep the last few hours of my life out of my mind.

Tyce Winship.

What were the chances?

I took a deep breath and tilted my head back so that I was staring up at the white popcorn ceiling, a throwback to the decade this building was built. Everything else had changed: new granite in the kitchen, new tiles in the bathroom, new carpet in the bedrooms. But this … it was still here, an ugly reminder of a time long past. Kind of like my memories of Tyce. I took a deep breath and stood up, moving over to the mirrored dresser under the window. That, too, belonged to Chelease, but that was okay. I'd learned a long time ago that possessions were pretty damn unimportant. People, connections, the feeling of freedom … of safety and security. Those were the things that mattered.

At least, to me they did.

Considering what Tyce did to me, disappearing in the middle of the night during his junior year of high school, I guess that stuff didn't actually matter to him. If it had, he never would've left me in that town by myself. When he needed me, I was there for him. I guess it didn't go both ways though, did it?

With a sigh, I grabbed a clean tank and some yoga pants. Part of me wanted to go over to that party, find Tyce, and throw a stack of pictures in his face. I had so many. There was a cereal box in my closet filled with dusty Polaroids from that camera Tyce found in the Goodwill. He bought it with the little money he had and presented it to me like it was made of gold. Back then, it couldn't have been anymore precious, even if it was.

“Screw you, Tyce,” I said, heading to the shower and trying to wash the memories of that asswad from my head with vigorous scrubbing. Didn't work. How could I ever forget that face? Even if it was twisted up in a smirk? I knew all the things he'd been through and, despite what had happened this evening, I was so goddamn proud of him. That was why I'd come here, right? With my academic record, I could've gone to any number of schools on a scholarship. So why this one?

Because of Tyce.

I just hadn't expected to actually see him—today or any other. The U of O had over twenty-four thousand students, so the chances of (literally) running into Tyce like I had were slim to none. Still, I'd managed to do that quite nicely.

I climbed out of the shower and shut the water off, slipping on my pajamas and heading back into my bedroom and over to the balcony doors. Our neighbor, Jia, hated having people in her room. She didn't even let guys in there, so I figured I was safe. Despite the dozen or so parties I'd been privy to in my short time living here, I'd never seen anyone outside on the stone and metal porch that matched my own.

Of course, tonight was a night of firsts for me.

I should've known.

When I slid the doors open and slipped into the brisk bite of autumn air outside my room, I didn't think to look over into the shadows of Jia's balcony.

Instead, I moved forward and leaned my elbows against the white railing, gazing across the grassy courtyard outside my room. The music seemed even louder out here, echoing around the quiet apartment complex in beats and pulses. I closed my eyes and swayed with the sound, letting the movements of my body drown out the thoughts in my head. Coincidence, I told myself when Tyce popped up in my mind again. Running into him was simple coincidence.

At the sound of giggling next door, I flicked my eyes open and glanced over to find a couple spilling out onto the porch, beer bottles in their hands and clothes already half off. Holy crap, I thought as I watched Jia tear off her bra and basically force some guy's hand onto her breast.

I probably should've taken off then, forgot all about the moment, but something about the man's body looked vaguely familiar to me. I squinted through the shadows and the pale glow of the orange lamps that dotted the complex's common areas.

In their kissing frenzy, the couple spun around and for a split second there I was greeted with the white round curve of Jia's ass—and a shimmer of bronze skin cupping it tight. My eyes slid up and found Tyce's face over her shoulder, his lips pressed to her neck as he kissed his way down the side of her throat.

I must've made some sort of sound in my own throat because his gaze snapped straight up to mine.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed as he pulled back from Jia like she was on fire. In the darkness, Tyce's eyes were the color of the deep sea, ringed with that pale golden color that I'd never seen on another human being. Sometimes, I wondered if I imagined it, if I saw him as being more beautiful than he really was.

“What's wrong?” Jia asked, panting and glancing over her shoulder to find me standing there in a white wifebeater with no bra. Her painted gaze slipped up and down my form before she dismissed me just like that, like some plain Jane gawker. She probably thought I had a problem with voyeurism or something. “Forget her. She's just the girl next door.”

Something in that sentence flicked a switch in Tyce's face and I watched as his features shifted from surprise and confusion to … fear. Yeah, that's what that look was, like a man looking up at a tornado. He can't stop it, can't run from it, and he knows how twisty-turny this shit is going to get.

A minute passed, or maybe it was a second, but I was having a hard time figuring out how to handle this situation. Earlier today, I played it cool. Right now, I felt sick. Tyce's hand was still on Jia's ass, and I could still very clearly see her bare breasts pressed into his chest.

“Come find me when you're done gawking,” she snapped after a moment, shoving away from him and throwing her beer bottle off the edge of the balcony. It shattered into pieces on the cement below us. “Asshole,” Jia added as she threw the sliding glass door closed and locked it with a distinctive click.

Tyce blinked away his cobwebs and turned to grab the handle, cursing under his breath when it wouldn't budge. When he paused to look back at me, I was greeted once again with his shirtless form. At least his pants were still on. Thank God for small blessings.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough with confusion and sex. I thought about going inside and locking my own door, but I found myself rooted to the spot. Was he asking about Tea, the girl from his childhood? The one he'd run to when his foster mother had first hit him, backhanded him so hard across the mouth that when I found him, his chin was red with blood. “Or are you too cool to answer me, Mystery Girl?”

Tyce took a step closer to the edge of the railing, curling his tattooed fingers around the metal. The red rose on the back of his hand seemed to glow in the strange half-light. In response, I took a step back until I was pretty damn sure I was hidden in shadow.

“I live here,” I said in latent response to his question. “What's your excuse? You know Jia has a boyfriend, right?” Tyce laughed, the sound as close to warmth and home as I could get. I wasn't stupid. I knew in a way he was mocking me, but I couldn't help it. I'd grown up with that sound, and I wanted to wrap it around me and hold it close.

Well, I'd wanted to once upon a time. The way I felt towards Tyce now was strange, a dejected sense of dangling, like whatever connection we'd once shared was nearly severed. I let that sink in as I looked at him, watched him examine the small space between our balconies.

“What if I asked you to come over here and let me in?” he asked, but even with the shadows around us, I'm sure he could see the slight shrug of my shoulders. If Jia left him out there, he deserved it. “Guess not,” Tyce said, and then proceeded to climb up onto the edge of the railing.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping forward as he steadied himself in his Nikes, one hand on the wall, and let those blue-gold eyes of his calculate the distance between us. He was going to jump. I stared at the wall of muscle he made, his tattoos spilling across his chest and down his right arm. The black and gray sparrows on either one of his hips seemed to be daring me to stop him. “Look, I'll come over there, okay? Just climb down.”

But Tyce wasn't listening. Once he decided to do something, it just got done, come hell or high water.

With an impressive bunching of muscles, he hopped the space between us and landed in a graceful crouch on the cement next to me like it was nothing. He moved like a feral cat, all poised and sleek and wild. Untouchable. But perfectly touchable at the same time, I lamented as I stepped back and hoped like hell he'd make a beeline back over to Jia's place.

“I hope you don't mind,” he said as he turned to look at me. “But I wanted to get a better look at you.” I spun away, fully aware that Tyce's hot hard body was just inches behind me. My skin itched to be touched and between my legs, a pulse started that I had a ridiculously hard time ignoring. I wanted him to wrap his arm around my waist, pull me against his chest, breathe warm against my hair.

“I do mind, actually,” I said, trying to channel some Chelease into my voice. Oh my God, she'd flip out if she found me standing here with Tyce Winship. The only thing she hated more than football was football players. “You should get back to the party.”

“I was on my way out actually,” Tyce said, his voice doing all sorts of things to me that I hadn't expected. When he'd left, I was fourteen. I was eighteen now and everything seemed so different.

“Didn't much look like it,” I said as I leaned down and hoped he wouldn't get too close a look at my face. I wanted Tyce to recognize me, but I didn't want that to happen in the closeted darkness of the balcony. It was too intimate up here, too personal. If he'd just recognized me at the park, I thought. Maybe things would've gone differently? Maybe we'd be having dinner somewhere and laughing about old times?

As things were, I couldn't stop seeing his hand on Jia's ass cheek.

“Yeah, well, I have practice in the morning,” he said which didn't surprise me. Tyce had always put football first above everything else including, apparently, me. I'd thought I was the one exception to his rule, but when he'd bailed out of our hometown, he'd left me to pick up the pieces. My mom used to cry over him like he was her long-lost son.

“Guess you should get going then,” I said as his elbow bumped me and he turned to look again, taking in my hair with a strange expression crossing his face. He saw something in me that he recognized, but he wasn't putting the pieces together. Was four years really all that long? Had I changed all that much?

I turned back to survey the courtyard, catching sight of a couple kissing on a bench below us. One of the two was Jia. Whoa, she sure moves fast, I thought and then realized that the other guy was actually her boyfriend. Ouch. I wondered if he knew just exactly what she'd been doing up here?

“Are you sure I don't know you from somewhere?” Tyce asked again, standing up and looking down at me. “What's your name?”

“Chelease,” I lied as I stood up, too, and moved into the bedroom, heading straight for the door and opening it. “I'll show you out,” I said as Tyce followed me in and paused to survey my room. I hadn't had much time to decorate, and there were no incriminating photos out, so he quickly lost interest and moved up to stand next to me.

When he noticed the whiteboard on the wall next to the door, a smirk stole across his full mouth. I watched as he picked up a black marker in his tattooed fingers and scribbled a number across the empty surface.

Popping the cap back on the pen, he leaned over and whispered hot, sexy words against my ear.

“When you remember your real name, give me a call.”

Football was more than just a game for me.

It was a ticket, it was a chance, it was the one thing that I didn't fucking suck at in life. I failed at pretty much everything else there was: family, friends, school … and Teagan Fletcher. I ran a hand down my face and swiped the sweat from my skin, my eyes locked onto my best friend, Kai Duran. We were nearing the end of practice, doing our version of an Oklahoma drill. Basically, it was about a ballcarrier—meaning me—trying to get past three levels of one-on-one blocks. I get to the end zone, I win.

A smile curved my mouth. This is what I knew, what I was good at. Getting that ball where it needed to go made me feel right. People recognized me, they acknowledged me, they respected me. Three things I never had in my old life.

“You daydreaming over there, Winship?” Coach yelled from the sidelines. “We don't have all goddamn day. Get your ass in there and show us what you got!” I ran my tongue over my lower lip and raised my brows at Kai, trying to keep my mind on the task at hand. Usually, that wasn't a problem for me. Hell, one of the main reasons I liked football was that I didn't have to think too hard. There was a formula here, and it worked. My body knew what to do, muscle memory taking over and getting me from point A to point B.

Today felt a little different.

Teagan Fletcher.

I couldn't stop thinking about her. Shit. Like she really believed I wouldn't recognize her? When she bumped into me in the park, I knew right away. I mean, how could I ever forget that face? She'd lost a lot weight since high school, filled out in all the right places, but those eyes … I didn't even have words to describe that color.

“Winship!”

When Coach screamed my name again, I knew I was in trouble. I shoved thoughts of Teagan from my mind and moved forward, charging towards Kai like I was going to plow right through him. The bastard knew me too well to fall for that crap, anticipating a feint to the left. I followed through with the move until the last second, kicking off and vaulting over his outstretched legs to the right.

I was doing what I always did, what I was made to do, but I was still thinking about fucking Teagan. My cleats clawed their away across the Astroturf as I fought for my end goal, proving to myself every damn day that I was here, that it was all worth it.

You don't recognize me, do you?

A hard hit to my side sent me flying, crushing me beneath several hundred pounds of muscle as I was tackled to the ground, the ball still clutched at my side, Teagan's face still flickering in my mind. I didn't know why I was pulling this crap, pretending that I didn't know her—or acting like an asshole about it.

“Seriously, Winship?” our defensive tackle, Kirk Godbersen, said as he pushed up and rose to his feet. With his dark goatee and his mountain of dreadlocks, he looked like a fucking pirate. “The hell is wrong with you? You've been screwing up all day.”

I scowled and ignored him, standing up and raking my fingers through my hair.

“I'm just having an off day, alright? Jesus.”

“Tyce Winship having an off day?” Kai said as he came up behind me and tried to put an arm around my shoulders. With his sandy hair and his square chin, he looked like a hardcore viking. Pirates and vikings. That was my team in a nutshell. I shoved him off as our head coach, Deryl Landez, called for us to run the drill again. “I don't buy that. Something's up with you. Didn't enjoy your party last night?”

I ignored my friend and moved across the field, doing my best to shut out everything and everyone around me. These guys, they'd become like family to me, but they still didn't know me. They didn't know where I came from or where I'd been, why I preferred to bail out on their parties sometimes and head down to the dorms or the apartments close to campus. Our locker room might have had marble floors and Ferrari leather chairs, but I was still me.

I was Tyce Winship, trailer trash extraordinaire. I was the boy born on the wrong side of the tracks. I was the guy who fought tooth and nail to get where I was today, and I was the guy who stood on the back of his best friend to do it.

Teagan Fletcher, she didn't know I recognized her, but I did.

The thing was, I had no clue what to do about that.

I spent the next three days running in the park, just on the off chance that I might come across Teagan again. As my sneakers pounded the pavement, I saw her face over and over again, that shocked expression when she tripped and fell into my arms.

“Hey Winship!” I raised an arm and acknowledged the girls standing outside the gate to the dog park, leashes in their hands, Oregon Ducks merch across their full chests. I didn't know them, but it didn't matter. Guess they knew me.

I smiled a self-satisfied smile as I cut across the bridge in a blur and ran down the sidewalk parallel to Autzen Stadium. It was a massive feat of engineering in green, yellow, and concrete, famous for being one of the loudest stadiums in the country. I should've felt proud right then and there, smashing the concrete next to the home base of my alma mater, basking in the glow of recognition and pride that flowed towards me from every corner of the community.

But even the roar of the crowd couldn't drown out the nagging sensation that'd been bugging me since practice. Running around the park like an asshole was all fine and good except I knew it was a stall tactic. I definitely hadn't expected to see Teagan on the balcony that night, but it couldn't have been a coincidence. I didn't believe in coincidences. I believed in fucking fate.

You know where she lives, asswad, I thought to myself as I continued to run along the edge of the park. Nothing was stopping me from turning around and heading towards her apartment. It would take me all of five minutes to get there, knock, wait for her surprised face to show up at the door. Maybe she'd be happy to see me, but probably not.

I continued running, knowing Coach would probably kill my ass if he knew how much overtime I was putting in. The thing was, I wasn't running for the exercise. Right then, I was running from the memories of a little redheaded girl, from her smile, from the way she put her arms around me at four years old like she could take the pain away.

“Shit,” I said, coming to an abrupt stop and letting my body slam into the trunk of a tree. For four years, I ran away from her memory like it was poisoned, forced myself to put Teagan out of my mind. You're a fucking coward, man, I told myself as I stood up and ran my fingers through my hair.

I had to go see her. I had to. I had a fucking game on Saturday and I wasn't going to let some ghost from my past mess up everything that I'd worked for. I started running again in the opposite direction, back towards Teagan, pretending with each footstep I took that I wasn't a coward, that I deserved all of this.

Until a few days ago, I still believed that.

I didn't think I'd ever run as fast as I did on my way to Teagan's apartment, flying up the steps and pounding on the front door like I had a personal vendetta to settle. Hell, in that moment, it sure as fuck felt like I did.

I was mad, even though I shouldn't have been. Every molecule in my body vibrated with suppressed anger and frustration, disappointment and fear, none of it aimed at her. Years of holding it back were catching up on me all at once and I prayed as I waited there that Teagan wouldn't come to the door. If she did, I knew all of this bottled rage would find a purchase in her.

The front door was painted a cheerful yellow, the perfect match to the leaves that littered the ground at my feet. I waited, tilting my head back and doing my best to suck in deep breaths as I listened for movement inside the apartment. When I dropped my head back down, I noticed the curtains to my right fluttering.

Lifting my fist, I slammed it into the wood several more times before I heard the click of a lock.

“What the hell?” Teagan asked, sounding more like her old self. She was a firecracker, a wild card, the girl who dragged me out of school to swim in the river naked, but the woman I ran into in the park was quiet, more reserved.

Good.

I wanted to hash this out with someone who would scream, yell, fight with me.

I pushed the door open and Teagan stumbled back, looking shocked, her red hair straight and perfect around her shoulders. Her eyes were ringed in dark liner and her makeup was flawless. Fuck. She'd changed so much since I'd left, really grown into her looks. I was having a hard time looking away.

“Going out somewhere?” I asked, sounding like an asshole. We both knew in the back of our minds that we had a history, that once upon a time we'd meant something to each other. But those days were long gone and right now, I was just some strange dude shoving his way into her apartment. I knew I was making so many mistakes, handling this situation in the worst way possible, but I couldn't stop myself. When I didn't know what to do, I deflected to what I knew best. Sarcasm, anger, flirtation. Those were the three things that had gotten me through the last four years.

“What are you doing here?” Teagan asked, reaching up and pulling her ruby red hair over one shoulder. She looked so out of place in that sterile apartment, like an ember plucked from a fire and dropped in a bucket of ashes. I stared back at her, at those eyes that had always captivated me. If I'd let myself once upon a time, I would've made her mine. Instead, I ran away.

I took a deep breath and shoved my hands in the pockets of my black sweatpants, looking her five foot two frame over from head to toe. She was dressed in these raggedy old jeans and a plain purple top, but she couldn't have looked anymore beautiful. Her body was curved in all the right places, generously full in the chest, ripe in the hips.

“What are you doing here?” I asked back, trying to keep my voice cool, calm. It wasn't working. My body was riled up from my workout, from the frustration that'd been brewing for far too long. And Teagan was so goddamn hot. I could feel my cock responding to her, giving me this ache that just begged me to fill her up, take her hot and heavy right now.

“Um, I live here?” she asked, taking a step back from me, like she could sense the turmoil twisting up my insides. I looked away from her, surveying the sterile white couches, the glass and metal side tables, the modern art hung sparsely across the gray walls. It was so not Teagan. Teagan painted murals on her walls and sang southern gospel songs she didn't believe in. “What do you want, Tyce?”

I turned back to look at her, my eyes drawn. I couldn't stay away if I tried. I took another step towards her.

“You remember your name yet?” I asked, as I reached up and let my fingers brush some of that red hair from her face. The rose on my hand was inked in the same color, a little nod, a memory of Teagan Fletcher that I thought I might need. Honestly, I didn't think I'd ever see her again.

“I think you should go,” Teagan said, trying to move around me towards the front door. I stepped back and put my shoulder against it, looking her straight in the face, trying to find the right words to say what needed to be said. Nothing rational would come to me. I ran my tongue over my lower lip and watched her follow the movement. “Seriously, Tyce. Please, go, before my roommate gets back. She isn't exactly a football fan.”

“Why did you come here?” I asked again, watching as those eyes of hers, like two sideways teardrops, pulled away from me and focused purposefully on a blank spot on the wall. She still had that faint scar on her forehead from that time she fell on the playground. I remembered leaning forward and kissing the blood away, not knowing or caring at age ten that I shouldn't be doing something like that.

I slid a hand over my face, tasting the metallic tang of blood on my lips. But it wasn't just a memory of Teagan's, it was mine. I was biting my lip—hard.

“You really need to go,” Teagan said again, leaning forward and wrapping her hand around mine, which was locked tight around the nickel finish of the doorknob. “Tyce,” she said again as I grabbed her wrist with my other hand, pushing her back into the wall. I let go of the handle and reached up, curling my fingers under her chin and tilting her face to mine.

My mouth closed the gap between us as I bent and pressed my mouth hard against hers, tasted her with my tongue and felt the sudden collapse of her body. With my left hand, I held Teagan up around the waist, pulling her tight against me.

Kissing her was like fucking fire.

I felt an adrenaline rush like nothing else, a sense of mental and physical obliteration that had me fumbling at the button on Teagan's jeans, pressing myself tight against the hot heat of her body like I had nowhere else to go.

“Tyce,” she moaned, breaking the kiss, putting her hands on either side of my face. She caught my gaze and held it tight, making me look at her. “Tyce, it's me,” Teagan whispered, her voice hoarse and broken, like this moment was sheer hell.

“I know,” I said, still holding her, my body still aching, my cock hard and insistent, straining against the confines of my sweatpants. “Do you think I wouldn't recognize you, Teagan Fletcher? I might be an asshole, but I'm not stupid.”

There was a second there where things looked like they might be okay, like we could do this, figure this weirdness out. My thoughts would calm, my sudden obsession would retreat, and I could pound the Washington Huskies into the ground on Saturday.

“Wait … what?” Teagan asked, putting her palms on my chest, making space between us. Her small mouth rounded in shock, and she shoved with all of her might, forcing me to take a step back. “What did you just say?”

I kept my grip on her waist, holding her at arm's length as we stared at each other and I narrowed my eyes. I could feel sweat dripping down my spine, the warmth and heat of the moment this strange mixture between lust and want and anger and rage.

“Why are you here, Teagan? Did you come here for me?” I asked, searching her face for the truth. Inside, I waged a war against my own hopes and desires. Half of me wanted it to be true, to know that she'd come all this way for me. The other half wished she'd never shown up, that she'd faded away into a distant memory.

“You …” she sputtered for a moment, twisting out of my arms and pacing a quick circle into the boring beige carpet. Thin fingers raked through that red hair of hers as she whipped around to face me, pale cheeks coloring underneath a thin sprinkling of freckles. “You knew it was me all along?” she said slowly, moss green eyes narrowing.

I didn't say anything, letting my mouth thin into a narrow line.

“I was surprised,” I said, which was a stupid fucking excuse.

“You knew it was me, and you … asked me to sleep with you?” Teagan continued, the pitch of her voice rising with each syllable. With the sunlight streaming through the blinds and hitting her hair, she looked like she was on fire. “Why … why would you do something like that?”

“What was I supposed to do? You show up here out of the blue and then just 'bump' into me in the park? You caught me off guard, okay? What was I supposed to do? Start off down memory fucking lane?”

Teagan's mouth dropped open and she took a quick step back, her face flaming with color, whether from anger or embarrassment or both I wasn't sure. Her right hand fisted in her purple top, the bright orange color of her nails digging into the fabric with a trembling rage.

“Are you kidding me? Follow you? Why would I ever want to follow you, Tyce? You disappeared and left me all alone with nothing!” Teagan's voice raised up another notch, the righteous indignation in her words putting me on the defensive. I almost felt vulnerable there for a second, shirtless and sweaty and stupid in her living room. “All we had was each other, Tyce! You used to tell me that all the time.”

“You had your mom, didn't you?” I snapped back, my heart slamming violently into my ribcage. I wouldn't have been surprised if it'd broken out and splattered the room with blood. I almost wanted it to. I needed to get the hell out of there.

I expected Teagan's temper to flare up. Hell, I wanted it to. I wanted to keep fighting, and then I wanted to throw her down on the couch and tear her clothes off. My words though, man, that was the wrong thing to say. Her eyes filled with tears, two silver drops sliding down those rosy cheeks.

“My mother is dead,” Teagan growled out, moving a step forward, focusing a shaking finger on my chest. “And she died asking after you, Tyce Winship.” I felt my face fall, come tumbling down my head to crash into the floor. Faceless. I was a faceless, stupid fuck in that moment. “She thought you were dead, you know that? Because she never believed you'd leave us like that. After everything we went through for you, because of you. Together. We were always together until we weren't.”

Teagan took a few, slow steps forward.

“And then I see you in the park and you … hit on me, make me feel like one of your tramps?”

“I had no idea about Venus,” I said, my voice dropping as I remembered the only woman on this earth besides my own that I'd even dare to liken to a mother.

“Of course you didn't,” Teagan said, her tears slipping across her lower lip and clinging there like icicles. “And for what? Football? Is that it? You had to get out of that shit hole to start your career? I get it, Tyce. I didn't at first, but after a while I understood. There was nothing there for us in that town.” Teagan swiped her arm across her face. “But you didn't have to leave the way you did. And you didn't have to stay away.”

“What do you want me to say?” I asked, getting pissed again, moving towards her. Both of Teagan's hands came up and shoved me back violently. Lightning struck that face, burned a line of hatred across her features like a bolt.

“GET OUT!” she screamed at me, coming forward, hitting me again. Her fists smashed into my chest over and over and over. When I reached out and took hold of her wrists, she wrenched them free, sliding them from my sweaty grip and stumbling back. Her roommate chose that exact moment to show up, opening the door with a bag of groceries in one hand. The first thing she saw was Teagan toppling over the coffee table.

I moved forward without thinking, grabbing her on her way down and pulling her against me.

“Let go of her!” the roomie screamed, turning our fight into one, big, horrible clusterfuck. Nails clawed my back as I dropped Teagan the last few inches to the floor, hopefully unhurt. “Get the fuck out!”

“I'm going!” I screamed back at them, raking my fingers through my hair as I cast one glance in Teagan Fletcher's direction. If the look on her face could've killed me then, I would've been dead.

I stood in the bathroom wiping tears from my eyes and wondering why the hell I'd ever come up here. Because you got a full ride scholarship, duh. But that wasn't the only reason. Deep, deep down in a place I refused to acknowledge, I'd been hoping for some kind of miracle reunion with Tyce.

“Stupid,” I said as I rubbed at my smudged liner and sucked in slow, simple breaths. If I'd been wearing my Fitbit, the damn thing would be going nuts. My heart rate was dangerously high, making me feel dizzy. It was a half-breed of anger and melancholy that was getting me now.

Tyce knew.

Tyce had looked me in the face in the park, on the balcony, and he'd put on an arrogant casanova smirk to throw me off, to avoid dealing with the shit he must've known was coming his way.

“Coward,” I growled, throwing the makeup smudged tissue in the toilet. It soaked up the water and sunk, just like my heart had when Tyce had mentioned my mother. I closed my eyes tight and refused to think about her.

“Teagan?” Chelease asked, knocking softly at the door. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I lied, looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red rimmed and puffy, but I refused to acknowledge the depth of my emotions. I'm being melodramatic, I thought to myself as I tried to wipe the image of Tyce's angry face from my thoughts. Why he thought he had any right to be angry was beyond me. And then bursting into my apartment like that? Kissing me like that. I blinked several times and reached back to gather my hair into a pony.

Well, there goes my first kiss.

And it definitely wasn't what I was expecting.

Like a lot of girls, I'd dreamed of having a romantic, butterfly filled fairytale of a kiss. I mean, growing up in a trailer park with a mom who worked three jobs and never managed to make ends meet, I knew better. I had no dad, no money, no family except my mom and Tyce. And then even those things had failed me. Yet still, I clung to the idea of a white knight on a horse to my own detriment. Eighteen years, never been kissed, virgin. Until recently, I'd still been stupidly in love with the memory of Tyce Winship, a feeling I was certain he'd never reciprocated.

I grabbed my liquid liner from the countertop and leaned forward, using a practiced hand to wrap the darkness around my eye. With my strawberry pale lashes and light green eyes, I needed that darkness to highlight my gaze. When Tyce had left, I'd been a chubby pre-teen who was bullied mercilessly and used anger to fight back. After I got over the initial pain of losing him, I decided to go a different route. I got in shape, learned how to paint my face like I was Pat McGrath, and threw myself into my studies.

So, screw Tyce Winship.

“Fuck him,” I whispered into the mirror, flicking off the bathroom light and opening the door to find Chelease wringing her hands nervously and wiping tears from those high, sculpted cheeks of hers. The dark truffle color of her skin was flushed and beads of sweat clung to her brow. “Are you okay?” I asked as she leaned against the wall in a bright yellow and orange dress that seemed too cheerful against the expression on her face.

“What happened?” she asked me, her voice a little broken, a little dark. I'd never heard it like that before. Granted, I didn't know the girl very well, but I'd at least thought I'd gotten a sense of her personality these last few weeks. “Why was Tyce Winship here?” Chelease swallowed hard and closed her eyes, reaching up to run her palm over her braids. “What was he doing to you?” she asked, that darkness lacing her tone turning to poison. Her brown eyes narrowed, locking onto my face and refusing to let go. “If he touched you—” she began, but I cut her off.

“Oh no, no, no,” I said, thinking about the way I acted and realizing I could've handled things better. “He didn't hit me,” I assured her and, noticing that her expression hadn't lightened at all decided to add, “or anything else. Seriously. We were just arguing and I tripped.”

“You tripped backwards?” she asked, standing up and looking down at me like she could smell a lie. “Sorry, girl, but I don't buy that for a second. I know everybody thinks Tyce is a fucking god, but you can tell me. If he did something to you, he has to pay for it.”

“Thank you, Chelease,” I said, hoping I sounded sincere. Tyce had hurt me, but not in any of the ways she was thinking. Well, then, why don't you let me do you the favor of taking it off? I guarantee by the time we're done, you'll be a huge fan. How the hell he thought he could talk to me like that was beyond me. I couldn't decide if I would've been less upset at him for not recognizing me. No, no, I think this was actually worse. “Tyce might be a dick, but he didn't do anything.”

Chelease looked me up and down with narrowed eyes, straightening the silver necklace around her throat.

“Sure,” she snapped, turning away and disappearing into her room with the slam of a door. What was that about? I wondered as I headed back to my own room to finish getting dressed. I had plans tonight, and I wasn't going to let Tyce Winship screw them up for me.

I might've—might've—come to this school in part because I thought I might see Tyce again. Maybe. I still wasn't quite ready to admit that to myself yet. But none of that mattered. I still had a scholarship and a life to cultivate, whether he gave a crap about it or not.

I had all of about three outfits in my closet. Not by choice, of course. What girl doesn't wish she had a closet full of fabulous? But fabulous requires money and that was something I'd just never had. In the end, I found myself standing outside Chelease's door in desperation. Thankfully she'd taken pity on me and dressed me in a sexy black boyfriend tank and a pair of LuLaRoe leggings that belonged to her sister. Red and pink roses dotted the fabric, a pattern that made me think mercilessly of Tyce's rose tattoos. He had a big, beautiful one on the back of his right hand and several more black and gray ones dotting his right arm.

I almost didn't wear the damn leggings.

“I don't know why you're letting some stupid football dick dictate your actions,” Chelease had said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and giving me a look that promised if I took the leggings off, I'd regret it.

So there I was, standing outside the door to New Intentions, a brand-new club in downtown Eugene, listening to the thumping heartbeat of music from inside and holding my mom's Prada clutch by my side. It'd been a present from Tyce's foster mom, before we'd known the full extent of his story. It was the last gift my mother had ever taken from that bitch. Once, I'd asked her why she'd even kept it. Girlie-Girl, the wicked don't always get theirs in the end, so if they give you something, liberate it and be glad it ain't theirs no more.

I sighed and pulled out my ID, holding it out to the bouncer and letting him slap me with a bright blue Under 21 bracelet. Of course, everyone who was actually twenty-one had their own bracelet, but I'd heard from Chelease that there was big money in the club for trading the two around. Whatever. I wasn't here to drink.

I stepped inside to Meghan Trainor's “NO” and made myself smile. The old me, she approached any social situation with a scowl and a series of retorts ready to rapid fire. I reminded myself that I was different now, that even though I still had a core of steel, I could show the world a smile.

I moved through the bumping, writhing bodies of the crowd, surprised to see the place so packed, and found a spot at the counter. I ordered a soda, just so I wouldn't feel out of place when everyone else had drinks in their hands, and settled myself in to people watch for a while.

As usual, the place was packed with people in green and yellow, sporting the giant yellow 'O' that served as a logo for our school and their infamous Pac-12 football team. The décor was a startling contrast to all that color with black-on-black-on-black. Walls, floor and ceiling made an even canvas for the bright burst of bodies twisting and syncing to the music. Overhead, a chandelier dripped in green and yellow crystal. Yet another nod to the team. Otherwise, the place could've been a club from Anywhere, USA. That was okay by me since I was from Nowhere, USA. To some, it might've been boring. To me, it was the best nightlife I'd ever seen in person.

I took a sip of my soda, tucking the blue straw between lips traced in glossy black and splashed with glittery bursts of red. The splatters looked messy and accidental, but they were oh-so-purposeful.

“Those lips are killer!” a girl said as she whisked by, clearly buzzed and enjoying the evening. Still, I basked in the compliment and let her take a selfie with me. “You should come dance,” she said after we'd finished posing together, double duck faces and all. I let her lead me out on the floor, feeding off the wild party vibe that was filling the air.

I wanted a college experience and damn Tyce Winship to hell, I was going to get one.

“Mind if I join you?” a guy said, squeezing in behind me and smiling wide, a pair of drinks in his hand. “Couldn't help but notice the bummer bracelet,” he continued, nodding his chin at me and the bright blue slash on my wrist. I stared back at him, my new friend still twerking next to me while I gazed at the statuesque wall of muscle next to me. “Kai Duran,” he added, introducing himself as I continued to gawk.

The man was as tall as Tyce, maybe even taller, with a sexy scruffy blond goatee and a headful of pale hair. It was slicked back and wonderfully reminiscent of Alexander Skarsgård's character Eric in True Blood. This time when I stood there in shocked surprised, I got a gentleman instead of an asshole.

“If you want, I've got a rum and coke with your name on it,” Kai said, holding out the drink. “Or at the very least, a dance.” I kept staring at him, taking in the black Swoosh shirt he was wearing, the dark jeans, the matching Nike sneakers. He had a wide chest and generously sculpted arms, ice blue eyes and a narrow mouth. He made up for that last one with a ridiculously kind smile and a cheerful attitude.

I liked him right away.

“Sorry,” I said after I realized I was still staring. “Teagan Fletcher,” I held out a hand and took the drink from Kai's big hand. “I think I'll say yes to both the drink and the dance if you don't mind.”

“Right on,” he said, lifting up his glass for a toast. I clinked our cups together and downed a good half of my drink in one go, letting Kai set them both aside on one of the tall black tables nearby. When he pulled me back onto the dance floor, “Panda” by Desiigner started up and we ended up dancing a hell of a lot closer than I was used to.

The alcohol swept through me, loosening my inhibitions, but it didn't knock me on my ass. When I was fourteen and Tyce was seventeen, right before he skipped out on me, we'd drive all the way out to this crazy secret swim spot and spent the day sipping whiskey. Having a mom who was a (sometimes) alcoholic had introduced me to booze at a young age. I could hold my liquor.

Still, even though Kai offered several more drinks throughout the night, I turned them down, letting my gentle buzz fade away until all I could feel was the heat and the sweat of the club, the crush of so many bodies moving together. Kai and I stuck close throughout the night, even though he was approached by a number of other girls. Clearly, he was a popular guy.

“Good luck at the game on Saturday,” one of them said after last call was made and another round of drinks circulated through the club. I paused for a moment as Kai traded in an empty shot glass for water and downed it all in one go. I seemed to be a magnet for coincidences lately, so …

“The game?” I asked over the wild bass, leaning up on my tiptoes so he could hear me above the murmur of the crowd. “Are you on the team? The football team,” I clarified although I needn't have bothered. During football season, there was only one team anyone really cared about.

Kai grinned nice and wide, his teeth bright white in the swirling darkness and the strobe lights.

“Linebacker for the Oregon Ducks,” he stated proudly, holding out his hand for another shake. “Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand back and returned the friendly smile. Speaking of coincidences … how random is this? With the luck I'd been having, of course the first nice guy I met was on the team.

“Do you know Tyce Winship?” I asked. I couldn't resist. Kai's smile slipped a little, and I realized how that probably sounded out of context. “I'm not, like, a fan or anything. I don't even really like football.”

“Well that's good to know,” Kai said with a boisterous laugh, nodding his chin towards the door. “Can I give you a ride home?” he asked, and I paused, thinking about the number of drinks he'd had. He should be good to drive.

“That'd be great, thanks,” I told him as we left the club and the cool autumn air pricked my bare arms. “I took a cab over here, but if you don't mind driving me over to the stadium, I'd love a ride.”

“Sure thing,” Kai said, showing me to his car, a swanky new black sedan that must've been a gift from a family member. I knew the guys on the team, although swathed in luxury, didn't actually get paid. “Hop on in.” Kai opened the door for me, still smiling with those warm brown eyes of his.

After he climbed in on the driver's side and we pulled onto the nearly empty street, he brought up Tyce again.

“So how do you know Winship?” he asked, and I could tell from the tentative note in his voice that Tyce probably had a reputation. Based on what I'd already seen from him, I wasn't surprised. I could still see the image of his hand cupping Jia's ass firmly in my mind. And taste the warm bourbon vanilla flavor of his lips. He tasted like home and comfort and old memories.

I blinked back the blurry memory of my first kiss. It might've just happened this afternoon, but the moment was so heated and emotional, I could hardly bring it up in my mind. I picked at the red tie on my pink clutch, staring at the painted face of a woman with a butterfly in her hair.

“Tyce and I go way back,” I said, looking over at Kai's rugged viking face. He had a much rougher look than Tyce, just as wild but in a different way, like he was a polar bear and Tyce was a panther. “We grew up together,” I continued, wanting to wipe that knowing look off of Kai's face. If he'd thought I'd slept with Tyce, he was dead wrong. That would never happen. “I was just curious about him. He seems different now.”

“Yeah, well, he's kind of an asshole,” Kai laughed, glancing over at me. The streetlights flickered through the window and highlighted the wide bridge of his nose. “And he definitely has a reputation, but he's the best damn QB this school has ever had. He's on his way to a career in the NFL.”

“How long have you known him?” I asked, wondering if Tyce had ever mentioned me. Based on Kai's reaction, I highly doubted it.

“Since he was seventeen. We actually finished up our junior and senior years together at Thurston High. He practically lived in my basement,” Kai joked, pausing at a stoplight and looking over at me again. Something on my face must've given me away because his laughter cooled and he looked serious all of a sudden. “I don't remember him mentioning you before, but it's probably because I'm a dumbass and I wasn't paying attention. I have a habit of missing things.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to lose the spirit of the night. Too late. I could feel the heavy weight in my chest. Tyce ran away from home to couch surf and finish school here. Why? Why not come back home and visit us? Or at least call? I couldn't figure it out without asking him, and that was something I just wasn't prepared to do yet.

Kai and I finished the drive in silence, and when he asked if I'd like him to walk me to my door, I said no. We could both tell that nothing else was going to happen between us tonight—not that I'd been planning on sleeping with Kai or anything. Still, I had a feeling that the ghost of Tyce had interfered in my life yet again. I doubted Kai Duran would be calling me back for a second date.

“You didn't tell me you had a childhood sweetheart,” Kai said the next morning, ambushing me in the locker room. He snapped his towel at my ass which he knew I hated. I turned around, letting my dick hang out, nice and proud, and flipped him off.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked as he slipped off his shirt and tossed it on a bench. He was smirking when he turned and punched in his key code for the locker door. They were fancy as hell, like something out of a sci-fi movie, all hooked up with ventilation and temperature control, things that Teagan and her mom hadn't even had in their trailer. I felt like a prick just being in here sometimes. I knew the facility had to cost tens of millions of dollars, and whether it was donated or not, I felt uncomfortable there at times. In my mind, I knew I'd earned the right to stand here, but in my heart, I felt like a coward.

“You know, that sexy Irish thing with the cute little freckles,” Kai told me with a grin, holding his hands out in front of his Swedish pale chest. “She was stacked out to here and packing an ass like nobody's business. Too bad she was too caught up on you to have any fun.”

Before I realized what I was doing, I was shoving Kai in the chest and sending him stumbling back into the row of lockers. Before I could chase him down and pummel the crap out his ass, he was holding up his hands in surrender.

“Dude, I'm sorry. Chill, man, relax. Jesus Christ.” He swore under his breath in another language and rose to his feet, looking at me carefully, studying me like he thought I might come at him again. I managed to reign myself in, clenching my fists by my sides and taking deep breaths. I stared at him across the locker room and tried to come to terms with the fact that he might've slept with Teagan. I knew logically that it wasn't any of my damn business, but just imagining my best friend's hands on her made me want to scream. Last night, I'd chased down a good party, had a good time with a hot girl and still, I couldn't stop thinking about Teagan.

This is exactly why I left, I thought to myself as Kai slicked his fingers through his blond hair and gave me a sheepish look.

“Nothing happened between us, okay? I'm sorry, bro. I didn't realize you had a thing for her.”

“I don't,” I snapped at him, turning back to my locker and tossing shit around like I was actually looking for something. In reality, I was just pissed. Again. And for no reason. I was seriously going to need some therapy after this. “I just don't want to hear you talk about her like that, okay? We grew up together.”

“So I heard. How come you've never mentioned her before?” I shrugged my shoulders and stared at the rose tattoo on the back of my hand, at the sparrow taking flight between my thumb and pointer finger. It gave me something to focus on while I calmed my suddenly frantic heartbeat.

“Dunno. Didn't think it was important,” I said, snatching my practice gear and covering up my dick with a jockstrap and a cup. Kai waited until I was covered before he broached the subject again. “She seemed to think it was. As soon as your name was mentioned, she fell apart. She was a fun girl and all, but holy crap. She went all super goth on me when we started talking about you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should keep our mouth shut around Teagan,” I said, slamming my locker closed and tossing Kai a glare over my shoulder. “In fact, maybe you just shouldn't talk to her at all.”

At least practice wasn't a complete bust.

We spent our day on the outdoor practice fields with full pads, giving me a chance to let out the pent up frustration I was feeling. This is why I left, I kept telling myself as I went through the motions, leading the first string players in a game simulation. This is why I disappeared. With Teagan around, I can't think straight. I bent over and blew out a breath of sweat, enjoying the burn of my muscles before standing up and surveying the field. Kai was still giving me weird looks, but I didn't give a shit. He could have any girl he wanted, so screw him. What was wrong with having some limits? I'd never screwed his exes. Although Teagan was never anything like that to me. She wasn't an ex because she was never my girlfriend or my lover, just … a friend.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself back into the game, the green of my uniform a beacon of hope in my suddenly cluttered brain. Shit might be going down around me, but I had this. I'd always have this. Football was both my god and my muse, my reason for living. It was the reason I'd left my hometown, come all the way up to the Eugene metro area to play, to snag that scholarship out of nowhere. I'd followed a dream and I'd made things happen.

While leaving a nightmare at home behind me.

I refused to think about Teagan's mom, Venus. Knowing she was gone was fucking devastating, and if I let myself go there, I'd screw up my whole game. Smack dab in the thick of the season, going to the dark places in my head wouldn't get me anywhere. I refused to let that happen. I shut all of that down and dove back into practice with a vengeance.

My team had a three point lead with four minutes on the clock so I moved the chains once, used a hard snap and got the defense to jump offsides. Easy as frigging cake.

“Nice job today,” Coach said was I made my way off the field. “Looks like you finally got those panties untangled?” I gave him a one shoulder shrug and a smirk, my helmet tucked against my body on the other side. “Well, whatever it is, don't let it distract you on Saturday, you hear me?”

“You got it, Coach,” I said as I made my way back towards the locker room.

I had to wonder the whole way if that would be a lie.

The next day, I went running again, as if that was a surprise.

Coach was seriously going to kick my ass. Let's just hope I don't twist my damn ankle out here, I thought as I wound my way through the park. At nearly four hundred acres, the chances of actually running into Teagan again were pretty slim. Hell, having it happen even once was a goddamn miracle. It was fate.

I gritted my teeth and pushed myself harder, veering off the cement and onto a winding dirt path, the trees swaying overhead in the dying twilight. Even though it was fall, there were plenty of evergreens to keep the atmosphere emerald and lush, a far cry from the dry desert shit hole where Teagan and I grew up.

Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath.

The rhythmic movement of my legs, the pumping of my arms and the thumping of my pulse in my neck kept me calm as I raced through the trees and over protruding roots. I leapt those like they were the enemies on the field, like I was a running a Hail Mary pass into the end zone.

I was so up inside my own fucking head that when I actually veered around a corner and came up on another runner, I didn't even consider the fact that it might be Teagan, not until I closed the gap between us and caught a flash of that bouncing red ponytail.

Fate.

Fucking fate.

I picked up the pace until I was literally running next to her, leaping over branches and stray bushes on the narrow path. The heavy sounds of our breathing mingled together, turning my thoughts in the wrong direction, sending all that pumping blood in my body to my cock. It didn't help that with each movement of her body, I saw the swell and bunch of long, lean muscles, the perfect roundness of her chest, the hot flush on her cheeks.

“What do you want, Tyce?” Teagan panted, flicking her gaze over to me. Her eyes were the color of chilled mint ice cream, and I wanted so badly to dig into that expression, pull it apart and figure out exactly what was going on in her head. “I'm a little busy here.”

“I thought you might need someone to catch you in case you fell,” I said, my voice pitching low despite my labored breathing. Without meaning to, I switched right into flirting with her when that was the last thing I'd meant to do. I flirted with girls that didn't mean shit to me. Teagan … was a whole different ball game.

“Haha,” she said, but at least she didn't elbow me off the edge of the path. Deep breath, deep breath, deep breath. “Seriously though, what?”

I wasn't about to cop to running on the off chance I'd see her again, so I lied. Again. Seemed like the easiest route out. I wasn't proud of it, but it was there.

“Didn't know I'd run into you,” I panted with a shrug she didn't see. Her gaze was focused on the path in front of us again, on the constant beeping of the heart rate monitor strapped to her arm. “Just trying to be friendly.”

“Really? That seems like a skill you could use some practice with.”

Pound, pound, pound. Our feet hit the dirt in unison as we rounded a corner and came up on the cement. Moving across the Autzen Footbridge, I could hear the roar of the river beneath us like a second heartbeat.

“We need to talk,” I said as we hit the end of the bridge and Teagan turned around to double back, coming to a stumbling stop and leaning hard against the cement railing on the edge. I moved up close to her, careful to keep at least a foot between us. I didn't know what I'd do if I got any closer. I wished I could say nothing, but I couldn't trust myself around her. This is why I left.

I took another deep breath, reaching down to pluck my sweaty shirt away from my chest.

“You … chased me … all the way down here to … talk,” she gasped, glancing over her shoulder at me, sweat dripping down the tip of her small nose, right over those freckles I used to tease her about way back when. “Don't you mean berate me? Yell at me?”

“I never yelled,” I said, feeling my fists clench and release. That old familiar anger was still burning inside me. It never went out, like embers in a fire, hot coals to burn anyone that got too close, who was either too stupid or too naïve to realize they should stay away. “I just … I want to know what you're doing here, Teagan?”

“I live across the street, Tyce. Why wouldn't I come here?”

“You know what I mean,” I snapped back at her, trying to control my temper. It'd never done anything good for me, so I don't know why I hung onto it. In the past though, anger had been my shield, so I held it up like a good soldier and fought the good fight. “Why did you enroll at the U of O? Why are you in here Eugene? What happened to Venus, Teagan?”

She whirled on me then, a force and fury that I recognized all too well. Now there's the girl I left behind. This calm, quiet new persona of hers was too weird, too unfamiliar. I didn't understand it at all.

“You don't own this town, Tyce, despite what some might say,” Teagan spat at me, reaching back and freeing the gorgeous orange and red of her hair from its ponytail. It was like a fall of autumn down her back, this flaming badge of pride that I wanted so desperately to run my fingers through. “And you don't own the university. I got a scholarship, a full ride, and I didn't have to toss around a ball to get it.”

“I fucking earned my place here,” I growled back at her, keeping my hands by my sides as she moved up close to me, glared right through the twelve inches that separated us. The wind blew a fierce stiletto of cold across my heated skin, bringing up goose bumps over my arms. “I worked my ass off. You know that.”

“Do I? Because the Tyce Winship I thought I knew seems to be good and dead. The Tyce Winship that I knew,” Teagan continues, putting her hand over her heart, “would never have left me behind. If he had to go, he would've let me know and I would've understood. What did you think, that I was going to hold you back?”

I stared into Teagan's eyes, but I couldn't make my lips form the words.

Yes. Yes, I did. I cared too much about you, but all I can care about is football. I have to make something of myself. I didn't want to trap you, Teagan. I didn't want to trap us.

“I see,” she said, licking her lips and moving away, turning around to stare into the navy blue waters of the Willamette. “Well, you can rest easy then, Tyce Winship, because I didn't come here for you. As I'm sure you remember, I don't have any family other than my mom and now, she's dead. It might come as a surprise to you, but selling movie tickets at the local theater doesn't exactly leave a lot of room for life insurance or trust funds. I got a scholarship at the U of O, so I followed the money, okay? I didn't come here for you.”

“What happened to Venus?” I asked, because I was starting to wonder if words were going to fail me completely. I wanted to shake Teagan at the same time I wanted to hug her, pull her small wild frame against me and tell her everything was going to be okay. But screw that. Screw it. No. I didn't sign up for any of this crap.

“Doesn't matter,” Teagan said, leaning over and putting her forehead against her arms. “She's dead now, so who cares? You weren't there when we needed you most. You took what you wanted from us and then you blew us off like we were nothing.” She raised her head and sent a piercing gaze my way, one that struck me right through the chest, made me feel like I was bleeding out. “And the worst part of it all is that you don't seem to give a crap.”

“That's where you're wrong,” I said, reaching out and taking her elbow in my hand. Teagan pulled away from me again, rubbing her hands down the moss green lycra fabric of her running jacket. “I'm sorry that I left, Tea.”

“Don't call me that.”

“I'm sorry that I left and that I didn't call, I wanted to.”

“Bullshit.”

I grabbed her arm again and squeezed hard, pulling her towards me.

“I did. I thought about going home so many times, about calling. But things got in the way.”

“You mean football?” she asked, lifting her chin proudly to glare at me. “Or girls. Because you seem to be having plenty of both.”

This time when Teagan pulled away from me, she turned and took off down the path.

Last time I fucked up, I let her jog away from me. Somehow, I found her anyway. That was fate or God or karma or whatever you want to call it. But fate only gives you so many chances. If I didn't fix this thing, or at least find some sort of resolution for us both, I was going to get back what I'd sown three times over.

I started running.

When I caught up to Teagan again, I grabbed her elbow again and tried to get her to stop.

“Tea, talk to me,” I said as I dragged my heels to a stop and she spun around to face me, her expression broken up with lines of hatred, frustration, but mostly sadness. Sad. She was so fucking sad. “I didn't come after you to make you cry.”

“I wish you'd just kept pretending not to know me,” she said, reaching up and rubbing her eyes. With a low growl in her throat, she dropped them back by her sides and continued to glare at me, breath coming in panting gasps. “Maybe if I'd let you fuck me, you'd be a little nicer?”

“Don't talk like that, Tea,” I growled back at her. “That's ridiculous.”

“Why did you kiss me yesterday?” she asked suddenly, looking back at me with dry eyes and a tight line for a mouth. I kept thinking she would cry again, but I guess I'd seen all there was to see of that. “You never tried before, not once. I mean, you kissed all my friends. You fucked all of my friends. But not me, never me. Why is that?”

“I have no idea,” I whispered harshly, my voice tight and my eyes flicking across her face, searching for something more. What I was looking for, I really had no clue, but I couldn't stop searching for it. “To any of the above. I don't fucking know. I'm sorry I teased you like that. I was so … God, I was fucking shocked as hell to see you. I didn't know what to do, so I said some shit. I didn't mean any of it. I'm not sure what came over me. I'd never say those things to you normally.”

“Of course you wouldn't,” she murmured, shaking her head and looking down at the forest floor beneath our feet. It was a blanket of red, yellow, and orange leaves with a sprinkling of pine needles. Night was falling quick and the orange streetlights around us were starting to pop on, drawing flurries of moths to their pale glow.

Teagan looked up at me again and then took a sudden step forward, leaning her full chest against the hard planes of my abs, putting her small hands softly on either side of my face. She pressed her fingers against my cheeks and teased my lower lip with the gentlest of kisses, like a breath of wind against my mouth.

I wasn't used to that. I was used to hard, heavy bursts of tongue and groping hands, the taste of beer and weed and desperation. This wasn't like that, not at all.

Before I could stop myself, I was wrapping my arms around Teagan's waist and pushing her back, pressing her tight against the trunk of a tree. Her mouth opened to my demands, welcoming me with a small moan of either pleasure or pain, I'm not sure. Either way, she accepted me by tilting her head back, dropping her arms to my shoulders.

I kissed Teagan back the only way I knew how, returning that gentle press of lips with a firm, fierce insistence that even I didn't understand. I ran from this girl; I was still running from this girl. If I didn't stay away from her, she'd become an obsession. Instinctively, I knew that. In that moment, with my rigid cock pressed tight against her body, her panting breaths filling my mouth, I couldn't stop.

My tattooed right hand dove into her black leggings, finding her hot and wet and ready for me. I slicked a finger along her swollen heat, feeling the stiff, tender flesh of her clit at the top. I teased Teagan with that hand while I kissed her fucking face off, my tongue annihilating hers in a kiss that was too personal, too intimate. Teagan could reminisce all she wanted about our childhood together, but right now, we were strangers to each other, as foreign and far apart as me and any of the girls I spent the night with.

Deep down though, I knew this was different. I didn't accept it, refused to accept it. But I knew.

I cupped Teagan's face with my left hand, holding her gingerly with my fingers while I kept her body pressed into the rough bark of the tree with my own. Thrusting my hips against her, I rubbed my cock between us, moaning into her mouth as I finally slipped a pair of fingers into her pussy. Holy shit, she's tight, I thought as I struggled to push in, all the way to my knuckles, forcing her legs apart with my hand. I ended up having to move my left hand back down to take her thigh, keep her balanced while I slid in and out, slow and deliberate, careful.

The wind picked up, whipping my dark hair around my face, mixing her red-orange strands with my own as we continued to kiss. I opened my eyes then and looked at her, at her shuttered lashes and rosy cheeks, at the wind chill turning her forehead and nose a pale pink color. Or maybe that was the motion of my hand, working her tight muscles into the fluttering pulse of a butterfly, one that cupped my hand with each beat of its wings.

When I moved my hand to my own jeans in a deliberate move, Teagan didn't stop me. I bit her lower lip as I dragged the zipper down and freed my dick, holding the heavy length in my hand as I stroked some pre-ejac down the shaft, getting myself ready for her. It didn't cross my mind then that I didn't have a condom. Should've maybe, but didn't. With other girls, hell yeah. It was the first thought on my mind when I smiled at them across the room. With Teagan … it didn't seem to matter so much. I just wanted her, all of her, as close to me as I could get.

I pulled back, enjoying the moist swell of Teagan's lower lip, the flutter of her lashes as she opened those jade green eyes of hers and looked back at me. Her pupils were dark and dilated, thick and black with desire, as I withdrew my hand and curled my fingers around the waistband of her leggings.

No protests.

I knew this was a stupid idea, that we were standing in the middle of a public park, but I didn't care. I dragged her leggings down her hips and tore off her left tennis shoe so I could free the fabric from her body. I left it hanging on the other side and stood back up, lifting her small frame like it was nothing. She might not have weighed much, but she felt like the world in my hands.

Teagan spread her legs wide, wrapped them as tight around me as she could get and looked me straight in the eyes as I slid into her. It happened so quick, just one smooth thrust and I was as far inside as I could get. She cried out and squeezed me hard, dropping her forehead to my shoulder and making a sound in her throat that I couldn't interpret.

It was hard for me to breathe, to move. Warm, wet heat surrounded me on all sides, bore down on me with enough pressure that I found it hard to think, to realize what any of this meant. It didn't matter. I started to move, using the sounds Teagan was making to judge the speed, the strength of my thrusts. I pushed into her, melded our bodies together, fucked her slow but hard, purposefully. Her soft body yielded to mine, pulled me in and reassured me with the thumping pulse of her heart. I could feel it there, circling my cock, beating against me with her panting breaths.

“It hurts, Tyce,” Teagan whispered, her voice hoarse and rough. “It really hurts.”

“What hurts?” I asked, turning my face, breathing hot against her cheek as she raised her head. I could barely get the words out. I was hardly even myself in that moment, succumbing to the wants of my body, to basic desires and needs and feelings I'd been carrying with me for years. “The tree?” In the scrambled state my brain was in, I really thought that was a logical response.

“All of it,” Teagan gasped as I pulled back, my hands tight on her ass, her legs still firmly wrapped around me. “Everything.”

“Do you want me to stop?” I whispered against her ear, enjoying the shudder that passed through her body and back into mine. When she didn't answer, I thrust in again, feeling the connection of our hips straight up my spine and into my brain. “Do you?”

“No,” she stated quietly but firmly. With a small growl, I adjusted her weight and started to move faster, deeper, more. I moved our sweaty bodies together in a blur of wetness and heat and flickering white pulses of pleasure.

When I came, it was with an earth shattering amount of power, enough to thoroughly knock the sense from my brain as I sagged against Teagan and held her tight. Half of me wanted to stay like that forever. The other half, the angry, twisted dirty half, he wanted to drop her and run like hell. What I was so scared of, I wasn't sure. It was stupid and irrational and it didn't make any sense, but it was there.

“Could you put me down, please?” Teagan asked after a moment, and I slid out with a groan, realizing as I reached down to adjust my pants that there was blood. Not a lot, but a little. I looked back up at her as she struggled to fix her leggings. “Could you grab my shoe?” she whispered hoarsely, refusing to look at me.

I felt sick to my stomach as I finished buttoning my pants and squatted down to grab her sneaker.

“Teagan,” I began as I stood back up, but she didn't let me finish, snatching the shoe away from me and stumbling a bit as she tried to slip it back on. When I reached out to help her, she pulled back from me.

“I should go,” she told me, but she stayed right where she was, leaning against the tree with her breath coming in heavy gasps and her hands quivering by her sides. When she finally looked over at me, her lips were swollen from our kisses and her eyes looked like they were ringed in liner, lit up by desire but also by confusion. Surprise. A lack of surety.

“Are you a virgin?” I asked, still trying to figure out what was going on. I mean, I'd known Teagan was a virgin when I'd left, but I'd assumed … I'd assumed. That was the problem. I'd just assumed. My heart started to pound against my ribcage and my hands squeezed into fists. What the fuck did I just do?

“Could you walk me home, maybe?” Teagan asked suddenly, sweeping some stray strands of red hair away from her lips. “I just … I feel a little unsteady right now.”

“Yeah,” I said, the hot embers of desire in my blood fading to ash. I could feel it cooling, clogging my veins and arteries. What just happened? I came out here to talk, not to take my childhood friend's virginity. The worst part of it all, was that I knew I fucked up. That I couldn't be the man she needed me to be. “Yeah I can do that.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and pretended like my legs weren't shaky, like I wasn't at all fazed by what'd just happened between us. The aching pulse between my thighs begged to differ, but I ignored it, clenching my upper arms with my orange fingernails.

The park was deserted, the sky thoroughly inked in black by this point. How stupid was that? I know better, I do. Tyce and I could've been caught; we could've gone to jail. If we'd been arrested, I could've been charged as a … Never mind. Didn't matter. We didn't get caught, and all I had to deal with now was this sticky weirdness between us.

I stared down at the tips of my sneakers, some ratty old thrift store finds that had definitely seen better days. They looked ridiculous striding next to Tyce's perfect black Nikes. I raised my gaze and stared straight ahead, at the spots of light from the lamps above our heads, the gentle swaying of the trees as they picked up an incoming breeze. A storm is coming, I thought absently as we continued to walk in silence.

Tyce kept glancing over at me like he wanted to say something, but then he just looked away and ran a hand over his face. I studied him, the way the wind picked up the espresso dark strands of his hair, tousled it messily around his strong face. His full lower lip was stiff with anger as his blue eyes scanned the horizon and then flicked back my way.

Our gazes met and a warm flush flickered through my body. I could still feel the strange sensation of sharing my body, feel the wetness between my legs. Some of it was blood, I knew. I saw. I reached up and brushed some russet red strands away from my face as we reached the wooden bridge. Across the street from us, Autzen Stadium loomed in the winking twilight, reminding me that Tyce had a game coming up on Saturday.

Saturday.

Today was Friday.

I spun to face him, pausing in the middle of the bridge.

“You have a game tomorrow?” I asked, wondering what he was doing out here, running around on dark forest trails and … screwing girls against the trunks of trees. I ran my fingers through my hair as he studied my face with a guarded expression. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he was thinking, so I just stared back, right into those blue eyes of his. But … blue wasn't the right word. No, Tyce's eyes defied description. They were the color of a deep breath, a heavy sigh. Rimmed in gold, flecked with shards of hazel. And his lashes, they were dark and long, curving up against his bronzed skin.

“Yeah,” he said, pushing his fingers into the pockets on his sweatpants. His gaze was penetrating, like his body was not five minutes ago. I dropped my gaze to the skull tattoo on the center of his chest. With the black tank he was wearing, I couldn't see much more than the eyes above the neckline.

I waited a moment, but I wasn't sure exactly what it was that I was waiting for, so I turned and started walking again. I noticed Tyce didn't invite me to the game or even ask if I was already planning on going. That hurt, really hurt.

I pretended it didn't.

“Should you really be out running the night before a big game?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, reaching up to run his fingers through the back of his short cropped hair. “But Kai's my roommate, so I know he won't say anything.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” I said as my Fitbit started beeping again, like my own personal little lie detector. Your heart rate is up, it warned me. Whatever you're doing, bring it down a notch. Except I couldn't just walk off this strange feeling in my chest. First kiss. Check. Virginity. Check. Two things off my bucket list that I hadn't expected to check off so quickly.

“You should stay away from him,” Tyce said, irritating me with his know-it-all tone. “You should stay away from the whole team. They're nothing but a bunch of man whores.” Tyce paused and the awkwardness between us grew in leaps and bounds, like a canyon opening up in the earth. There was no bridge, no crossing this divide.

I felt sick to my stomach.

“This is good enough,” I said as we paused at the end of the block, across the street from my apartment complex. “You can let me off here.” I made myself smile a smile I didn't feel. “You should get home and rest for the big game.”

I started to turn away, wishing he'd reach out and take my arm, hold me close for a minute.

The seconds ticked by as I waited for the light to change, so I could cross. There weren't any cars, but I waited anyway. When I heard his footsteps moving in the opposite direction, it took everything I had inside of me not to cry.

To my credit, I made it home with two dry eyes.

According to a quick Google search, the game tonight started at seven-thirty on ESPN. There was a part of me that wanted to watch, see Tyce in his element. The other part of me just wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep it all away.

I decided on a compromise, pulling up the ebook versions of my class texts and diving into homework. That computer and information science degree wasn't going to earn itself. In my heart of hearts, I wanted to be a makeup artist, but that was about as likely as my mother becoming a dancer, something she'd talked about right up until the day she died. As much as I wanted to toss my laptop aside, trade out my keyboard for a palette of color, I wasn't about to walk away from this opportunity.

I shifted in my chair, feeling an uncomfortable ache between my legs. Ouch. Last night … that had hurt more than I wanted to admit. I wasn't thinking clearly in that moment. I was so desperate for Tyce to finally see me, to look at me like a woman instead of a little girl. And then he held me so close, and he kissed me so fiercely, like a promise. I felt that protective instinct in him that had made me feel so safe when I was younger.

I should've asked him to stop.

I adjusted myself again and then sighed when the ache started throbbing with a vengeance. I slammed the top on my computer and stood up, stretching my arms above my head and doing my best to put last night out of my mind. The whole situation was just weird, off, wrong. Both Tyce and I knew that, but we did it anyway.

I let him use me.

I gritted my teeth and opened the door to the hallway, the sound of Chelease's shower escaping through the crack in the bathroom door. The noise of the water made me feel sick as I remembered scrubbing the blood off my thighs, washing off … everything else.

“Ugh,” I growled, running my fingers through my hair, pacing a tight circle in the living room. Tyce might've been able to walk away and pretend that last night didn't mean shit, but that was a first for me. That moment in the park was going to be burned into my brain forever, a memory, a moment that I couldn't wipe away. “Fuck you, Tyce,” I mumbled as I headed into the kitchen and tried to come up with a guilty pleasure snack that would erase all of this crap from my brain.

When my phone started buzzing in my pocket, I pulled it out and found an incoming call from Melia Pham, a girl I'd clicked with during orientation. She was bubbly and wild and fizzy, totally spastic but a lot of fun to be around. We'd hit it off right away.

“Hey,” I said, listening to the buzz in the background. “What's up?”

“I've been calling you for days,” Melia said, the sound of a can popping open on her end of the line. “Seriously, all week. Don't you ever check your messages?”

“Not really,” I laughed as I pulled out a jar of Nutella and jammed a spoon into the dark creamy surface of the chocolate hazelnut spread. One hundred calories per tablespoon, and I was going to eat as much as I damn well pleased today. It felt like an appropriate after-virginity treat. I closed my eyes as a flush came over me and my body responded to the memory of Tyce. His cock was long and thick, stretching me to that fine line of pleasure and pain. I'd wanted him to stop as vehemently as I'd wanted him to keep going. “Why? Are you really so desperate to talk to little old me? You know, you could've come to tech writing if you'd wanted to see me.”

“It was the second week, Nerd Girl. Nobody goes to the second week of class.”

“I can assure you, nobody's ever called me Nerd Girl before. Like, ever. I once set the teacher's lounge on fire when I was in junior high.”

“Wow, angry teenage angst much?”

“You have no idea,” I said as I scooped a big, luscious lump of Nutella on my spoon and flicked my tongue out for a lick. Tyce had been from the wrong side of the tracks; I'd lived there all my life. We both had anger problems and daddy issues and a serious lack of parental supervision, money and resources. But we'd had each other's backs, or so I'd thought.

He certainly had my back last night, I thought as the sensation of Tyce's hands gripping my ass popped up in my brain. That feeling was followed immediately by that picture perfect shot of his bronzed fingers gripping Jia Yang's flat white ass.

The chocolate cooled on my tongue, turned to ash.

I tossed the spoon in the sink and tried not to drown under the sudden wash of sadness.

Tyce Winship. He wasn't the boy from my memories anymore. He was a selfish, arrogant asshat that used me. I used him, too, I guess, but it still stung. He fucked me and then he walked away like it was nothing. I didn't want to sound like the stereotypical girl from the movies, acting like sex automatically meant something between us, but … well, it kind of did.

“Are you still there?” Melia asked, waiting patiently for me to go through my mental hula hoops. “Because I'm having a tailgate party in my shitty apartment. Please come over and cheer on the Ducks with me, eat cheap hot dogs and drink cheap beer?”

My stomach twisted up and I could suddenly feel the food I'd eaten rise to my throat.

“As long as you don't mind me ogling Tyce Winship's perfect ass the whole time, I think it'll be fun. I'm inviting some of my other friends over. You could mingle, meet some men.” I didn't respond, trying to clear the dryness from my mouth. “Or women. I don't judge. I have a few cute bi friends and one seriously sexy lesbo BFF.”

“You have no idea how appealing that sounds right now,” I joked, taking a deep breath and putting the cap back on the Nutella. “But I have a lot of homework—”

“Bullshit. Put on something cute and get your butt over here. If nothing else, you can veg out on chips and dip and smoke some weed. Hurry up, I'm texting you the address.” And then she hung up on me.

“Great,” I said as my phone buzzed and I plugged the address into my GPS. At least Melia's place was in walking distance. I didn't exactly have access to a car. With a sigh, I collected my thoughts, squared my shoulders … and prepared myself to beg Chelease for yet another outfit.

When I showed up at Melia's front door, my hands were shaking. I hated that. This is stupid, I told myself as I thought about seeing Tyce on ESPN, a ball in his hands, that muscular body of his moving with violent elegance and unrivaled athleticism. It'd be almost like watching him kiss another girl. Football … that was his first and only love, something worth sacrificing everything else for. Including my mom and me.

I pinched my wrist and steadied my hands, reaching up to knock and finding the door thrown open. A barrage of smells assaulted me as Melia threw her arms around my neck and kissed both of my cheeks. Weed, beer, burgers, popcorn … patchouli?

“I'm so glad you came,” she gushed, pulling me inside by the wrist and kicking the door closed with the heel of her wedge sandal. “They're about to kickoff. You almost missed it.”

“Cool,” I said, moving inside the tiny, cluttered apartment and marveling at how different Chelease and Melia were. At our place, everything was in order, decluttered to the point of being sparse, utilitarian and functional, cold and sterile. Here, the walls were covered in posters and canvases, plants hung from hooks in the ceiling, draping their green leaves over my shoulders as I paused next to the kitchen entrance. Bookshelves filled a wall to my right, crammed with dog-eared copies of every genre imaginable, decorated with bits of driftwood, crystal, incense burners puffing away with patchouli. The floors were covered in rugs and the dining table was a piece of wood on four cinder blocks, surrounded by beanbags. It was hippie paradise in there.

“Teagan, I want to introduce you to my brother, Loe, and his girlfriend, Thina.” I waved at the two dark haired people in the kitchen, plates in their hands, smiles on their faces. “And this,” Melia continued, sweeping past me and into the living room area. There was an actual couch in here. It was lumpy and misshapen, draped in blankets and colorful throw pillows but it looked comfy. “Is Mee, Risika, Dane, Alton, Nyle and Vienna.” Melia pointed to each person in turn and they waved back at me, some of them getting up and holding out their hands to introduce themselves properly. I doubted I'd remember any of their names, but that was okay.

Everyone was high, relaxed, waiting patiently for the game to start with bowls of chips and popcorn tucked in next to them. I can do this, I told myself as Melia showed me all the food and forced me to make a plate. I still wasn't hungry, but I knew from past experience that things got easier if I went through the motions, practiced participating in everyday life.

I won't let Tyce make me feel defeated.

I'd moved to Eugene to start a new life, not mourn the old one I'd left behind. That would've been a nice thought to have last night, before you … you … I sat down on one end of the couch, next to a girl who looked about as short as me. The ache between my legs was still there, a constant pulsing beat that both scared me and aroused me. When I thought of Tyce's hard, warm body pressing into mine, the firm planes of his chest, that perfect 'V' of his hips … it was difficult to think straight.

I was focused on my plate, trying to organize the messy tower of my hamburger when Melia squealed and came to sit on the pink beanbag in front of the couch, a joint pinched between her fingers.

“There he is!” she exclaimed as the camera zoomed in on Tyce's face and the announcer started talking stats. I didn't hear a word of it, my gaze trapped on those blue eyes of his, on the dark smudges that lined his cheeks. His face was shuttered, dark, that full mouth of his tight and determined. I wished that some of that expression was for me, imagined for a split second that maybe it was. But then one of his teammates approached him and he smiled. No, no he smirked. This smug confidence rode on Tyce's shoulders as he held his black and gold helmet under his arm. “That's my future husband right there,” Melia joked as she reached back and played with her fall of long, dark hair.

“Sure thing, Melia,” the blonde on the opposite end of the couch joked. I think her name was Risika. Or maybe she was Vienna. I couldn't quite remember, and right now, I didn't care to.

I was too focused on Tyce's face, the determined set of his jaw, the fabulous cut of his body in that black and gold uniform. There was a Pac-12 patch above the number eight, the color popping against the dark fabric that wrapped Tyce's wide chest and slender waist. And the tight fit of those black pants? I could scarcely breathe, seeing him there in his element. You clean up good, Tyce Winship, I thought as the camera stayed focus on the team's star player.

I didn't blame them; I didn't want to look anywhere else either. No wonder I've avoided watching him all this time, I thought as I stared at the screen, completely and utterly mesmerized. Not once in his two previous years on the Ducks had I seen a single game. It wasn't that I hated football or that I hated him (at least not back then), but I knew. Somehow, I knew that if I'd seen him, I'd fall head over heels all over again.

“Do you think he has a big dick?” Melia asked, looking over her shoulder and raising her eyebrows at me. Something must've shown on my face as I pulled my gaze from the black and gray tattoos spilling out from beneath Tyce's jersey.

“Huh?” I asked as I blinked to clear my vision, my hamburger clutched tight in my hands, dripping sauce all over my plate. “What did you say?”

Laughter erupted from all around me, but it didn't matter. I set my food down and wiped the grease from my hands. I wanted to run away, head home and bury myself in my schoolwork. Why, why, why did I have to bump into him in the park? And why, why, why did he just happen to show up at Jia's party?

I'd spent a long time trying to get over Tyce's betrayal and now, here he was, gracing an HD TV in all his gorgeous glory, his bronze skin gleaming beneath the lights of Autzen Stadium. In truth, he was just a half dozen blocks away from here, less from my actual apartment. But to me, it felt like he was a million miles away.

When the kickoff finally started, I watched from my spot on the couch, detached and hurting, my body throbbing and my heart breaking. It shouldn't have been like that. I shouldn't have felt like that. And I wouldn't have if I hadn't slept with him. The Tyce I knew and loved was gone, replaced with an arrogant jerk that cared more about a sport than he did about his own family.

I hate him, I thought and I meant it. Even as I watched him make some impressive plays, draw the crowd into his aura of charisma, charm the pants off of everyone in that room with his skills, his talent, his dedication. Watching him throw, leap, twist, flip, I could almost make myself feel what everyone else was feeling. There was this sense of camaraderie in the room, an 'us versus them' mentality as we bonded over our hatred for the other team.

The problem was, I knew it was all fake. False. A sham. A lie.

Last night, it had felt like Tyce and I could have something, that we could reconnect like we had as kids, better than we were as kids.

But that, that was a lie, too.

Two nights after the game, I was at another party, trying to pretend like everything was normal when nothing fucking was.

“Good game, Winship,” one of the girls said, giving me a flirtatious wink as she passed by. I smiled back at her, but I wasn't feeling it. I wasn't feeling any of this. My gaze traveled across the gathered crowd, across the sea of gold and green shirts, sweaters, hats, even shoes. Tonight, we were finally getting the chance to celebrate our victory. Coach was at some anniversary dinner with his wife, so the guys were taking this as their chance to go buck wild. Not that anybody would miss our presence here, but they'd look the other way. They always did.

“You alright over there?” Mason Fenna asked me, waving a hand in front of my face. He was the second string quarterback, an asshole sophomore nipping at my heels. Sometimes I felt like he was about this close to pushing me down a flight of stairs. I kind of fucking hated him. “You've been completely out of it since the game.”

Since before the game, I thought as I tipped back my drink and decided a loose, easy shrug of the shoulders was the only response Mason was gonna get. Screw him. My problems with Teagan were … fuck. They weren't even problems at all. I screwed her. So what. Big deal.

Only it was a big deal. A really freaking big deal. I thought of her mother, Venus, and how disappointed she'd be in me she was still alive, if she knew. I could still smell the sweet, sticky scent of her perfume, hear the sound of her wooden bracelets clacking as she bent over to give me a hug. She always liked to joke that Tea and I were going to end up together. I think she really, truly wanted that for us.

What a fucking disappointment I must've been to her.

“You got girl problems?” Mason continued, oblivious to my stoic expression, my hatred for him that I wasn't really trying all that hard to hide. The girls loved him almost as much as they loved my stupid ass, but I couldn't figure that out for the life of me. Mason had thick dark hair and some heavy, drawly southern accent that he tried to hide. Not sure why. The chicks seemed to like that, too. To me though, he just seemed oily with his dark eyes and his sly smile. He was the son of some NFL big shot, raised in money and football and copious amounts of ass kissing.

We couldn't have been anymore different.

“I never have girl problems,” I told him honestly. And I hadn't, not in Eugene or back home either. I let my gaze slide over to Mason. He was still staring at me, like we were friends or something. There was this glint in his eyes that I didn't like.

“Is it about that redhead Kai was hanging with at New Intentions?” My hand squeezed tighter around the beer bottle in my hand. I managed to keep the reaction off my face, but my body betrayed me, getting stiff and taut, like I was about to beat some ass or something. “She's like some high school sweetheart or whatever?”

“It was never like that,” I ground out, my voice laced with darkness and rage. I wasn't sure if I was actually talking to Mason anymore or myself. It never was like that. But it is now. I made it like that. I used Teagan. I used her. I'm the asshole.

I felt the revelation crash into me and fuck up my insides. I almost puked, and I have a steel stomach. I had no idea how many girls I'd slept with in my life, but I'd never felt like this before, like I'd betrayed them with my dick.

“Whatever you say man,” Mason said with a dirty bro laugh, that insider track that guys use on each other when they think they're being slick or cool. I couldn't pretend I'd never done that before, but I also couldn't put up with it tonight.

“I gotta go,” I said, putting the bottle down on the wooden mantle next to me and heading for the door. I was in some sorority house, surrounded by girls from the Ducks' cheerleading squad and all I could do was sit and stew about Teagan.

When I closed my eyes at night, I felt her body wrapping mine and I couldn't stop myself from grabbing my dick and pleasuring myself to that memory over and over and over again. But when I opened them back up afterwards, I saw the blood on my cock. I saw her face as she leaned against that tree and struggled to put her shoe on.

The guys I'd tried to protect her from back in the day, the assholes I punched out for saying the wrong thing, looking at her the wrong way, that's the kind of guy I was now. I was the asshole. I'm the asshole.

I moved through the crowd and people skittered out of my way like I was a superstar, a god of the field. King of the Quarterbacks. I was the best fucking QB this school had seen since fucking forever, and yet that excuse didn't seem to matter right now.

This is exactly why you left, Tyce, I told myself as I pounded down the steps outside, past the clusters of people on the lawns, the cheers, the congrats that followed me like a wave down to the sidewalk. As soon as I hit the pavement, I started running again. Teagan makes you feel … she's got this magnetic pull.

I pushed myself into a hard sprint, getting as far away from that party as I could as I tried to sort out my thoughts. I was pissed again, but that was no surprise. It wasn't a shock to me that I had anger problems.

I won't end up like him, I thought as I ran fast, faster, fastest. I won't be like my dad. I won't have the broken spirit of my mom. Of Venus. I won't get stuck in the quicksand of life until I've sunk too far to breathe. I'm making something of myself. I'm doing something that matters, that people care about. Football comes first. It always comes first.

In my heart, I knew that if I'd stayed with Teagan, I might've been tempted to put her first.

No, I know I would've put her first. I would've stuck around in that shit hole on the Nevada/California border, the town that didn't even deserve a name. I would've let my feelings for Teagan tumble out of me; I would've fucked her. And then, I would've married her and had kids, and then we all would've suffered. I'd have been a trucker or a gas station attendant. I would've been trapped; Teagan would've been trapped.

I did what any logical person would do. I cut the ties that bound, made my escape. I made myself out of nothing. I was the top draft prospect for the NFL, voted All-American last year, and a God at the University of Oregon. Why would I do anything to screw that up?

Fucking Teagan was a mistake, but it happened. It was too late to change things. I needed to keep those bonds between us tucked tight in my chest, forget all about them. But first, we needed to talk. I wouldn't leave her hanging. She deserved better than that. After all, the main reason I left was because I knew she'd be better off without me.

Teagan didn't need an angry loser from the wrong side of the tracks, a guy with no family, no money, and bad grades. In the back of my mind, I thought that maybe one day, I'd find her again, once I was successful. I'd find her and we'd have coffee and talk shit out.

Instead, I fucked her against a tree. I made her bleed.

“Shit,” I growled out, the sound tearing from my throat in a ragged gasp as I pushed myself harder, too hard, bouncing between pools of darkness and light as I skipped under streetlights. Moths fluttered above my head while the trees whispered with autumn leaves, littered the earth in front of my feet.

I had no idea where I was going, but I didn't stop running until the sun peeked up at the edge of the sky.

When I'd first started classes at the U of O, I'd bounced between majors before finally settling on journalism. My plan was—and still is—to play for the NFL, make my fortune, and retire. The only shitty thing about football for me though was the unknown. I was planning on making a living with my body in a high impact sport. One wrong move, one bad day, and I could be out for good, everything I'd worked for lit up and tossed in the trash.

My backup plan was sports journalism or maybe becoming a sports anchor. Either way, these were fallback plans I didn't pay a lot of attention to. If it weren't for the tutors and the academic center at our school, I might not even have made it this far. To me, classes were simply roadblocks between me and football. My only goal was to get through them at an acceptable enough level that it didn't affect my future career in sports.

I sat inside the student athlete center, staring at the wall of bookshelves in front of me, and tapping a pen against the side of my head. Below me, I could hear the students laughing and talking, exchanging stories and sharing food. The second and third floors of the building were reserved exclusively for student athletes so for the moment, I was up here by myself. My phone was in one hand, my thumb trailing through endless Tumblr posts about a bunch of bullshit that didn't matter.

“This isn't fucking working,” I snapped at nobody and nothing, shoving my laptop back in my bag and sitting up. I was lounging on the ugly squat yellow couches that were supposed to look hip and modern but that I hated with a freaking vengeance.

I stood up, dragging my bag along with me, my phone still clutched in my tattooed hand. The center was hard to describe, some crazy architectural wonder or something with these glass walls that let light in but kept prying eyes out. There was a lot of wood and mirrors and black tiles in the bathrooms, but I grew up straddling a strange place in the world, so I didn't care about any of it. I grew up poor as dirt, half-lived with Teagan and Venus in their shitty trailer, and yet I had a foster mom who lived in a fancy McMansion. She had these same tastes, this expensive modern block of glass and obscure art. I wasn't trying to complain about being surrounded in luxury, but it really wasn't me.

In my heart, I'd always be that guy, that kid with the dead dad and the dead mom and the holes in his sneakers.

On my way out the door, I got a text from Kai telling me about yet another fucking party. I had them coming out my ears, spilling out my mouth like blood. For a while, I liked them. A lot. I liked getting drunk and high, and I liked sleeping with beautiful girls. After a while, I didn't stop liking them exactly, but I got used to them. Booze, weeds, women, those were things I deserved, things that were just mine. It was a bunch of bullshit, sure, but the fantasy was mine for the taking.

It could all be that way again, I reminded myself as I paused at the edge of a busy street and watched the traffic flow by me. Teagan doesn't change things. I knew I could quite literally forget all about her, pretend I'd never seen her, that I'd really left her behind in the desert. But I couldn't do that.

All of the things I thought, that I felt, the reasons for doing what I did, I knew that she at least deserved to hear them. I could talk to her, clear things up, and then, maybe I really would be free.

Free of the memories and the guilt.

It sounded like heaven.

I texted Kai back and asked him to pick me up outside the student center. I'd have him drop me off at the park and then walk over to Teagan's place. I didn't want any of the guys to know about her, not really. Even the little bit they did know was bugging the hell out of me.

“Yo Winship,” Kai said when he pulled up to the curb and I climbed in. He was already dressed for the party in his best douchebag uniform, a pair of khaki shorts and a Ducks tee. I thought it was lame as hell to wear team colors around like that, just to pick up chicks but whatever.

“Where are you headed?” I joked as he turned down the radio on whatever satellite rap station it was he was listening to. “A golf tournament?”

“Hilarious,” Kai said as I rested my head against the black leather seats. I'd often wondered what it was like to have a dad at all, let alone one that could afford a swanky ride like this. No wonder Teagan was drawn to him at the club. I couldn't blame her. Kai had about a million times more resources than I did.

My hands curled into fists, and I had to suck in a deep breath.

But Kai can't play like I can. Kai wasn't voted All-American. He doesn't have the NFL slobbering after him.

He didn't sleep with Teagan Fletcher.

“What are you up to right now? You want to come with me to this party? It's gonna be killer. Mila's bringing some friends of hers from out of town. One of them's a cheerleader for the Seahawks.”

“Don't you get enough cheerleaders in your daily life, man?” I asked him as I shoved my phone back in my pocket and raised an eyebrow. One more season and I'm out of here. Just this one last season, and I'm in. “What do you need to chase after another one for?”

“NFL cheerleaders are a big step up from college girls, Tyce.”

“Like you'd know,” I smirked, waiting until the light turned green to give him directions. “Drop me off at Alton Baker, by the stadium.”

Kai wasn't buying my shit. He raised his blond brows at me and glanced across the car to give me a look. His ice blue eyes were like chips of ice, pale and narrowed on my face.

“You're not going over to Teagan's place, are you?”

“Maybe it's none of your goddamn business what I'm doing,” I told him in as calm a voice I could manage. “What do you care anyway?”

“What is wrong with you, Tyce? What is it about this girl? You've been acting weird since last week.” I ignored him, focusing my gaze out the window, on the buildings flickering past, the trees dancing in the wind and the drizzle of rain that splattered the glass in front of my face. I could try explaining my relationship with Teagan to Kai, but he wouldn't understand. Nobody would. This was something between us, something we had to deal with on our own. “Fine. Don't tell me. I don't care anyway.”

Kai drove me straight up to the apartment complex, parking the car and waiting in silence as I climbed out, leaving my book bag behind. I felt too old to be dragging it around, like at age twenty-one I should be doing something else. At twenty-one, my mom was lugging around a six year old kid and drowning beneath the shit storm of life.

How depressing.

I moved up the cement steps and knocked carefully. I wasn't going to get angry today. I wasn't going to yell. I was going to be a goddamn gentleman and look the girl I'd just devirginized right in the face. I made her bleed. I hurt her. I used her.

I gritted my teeth and waited patiently, forcing my expression back into something a little more pleasant. The last thing Teagan needed was to open her door and find me scowling on her welcome rug.

“Oh.” The door split open a crack, revealing Teagan's roommate. She definitely wasn't happy to see me. “It's you.” She waited, her lips pursing into a thin line. A few loose braids fell into her face as we waited there in a standoff, the wind picking up and slicing right through the white t-shirt and jeans I was wearing. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched as the girl—Chelease, I guess was her name—looked them over, raising a brow at the water dragon hiding half under my sleeve. “What do you want, Mr. Winship?” She snapped my last name off her tongue like it was painful to even speak it.

“Is Teagan here?” I asked, knowing that I wasn't leaving this spot until I saw her face. Just thinking about her got my heart pumping. It sped my pulse and filled my cock, drawing Chelease's eyes in a different direction. But the look she gave me was anything but the lusty, flirty lip biting flicker of emotion I usually got from girls. She looked disgusted with me.

Chelease continued to stare at me, getting off on some sort of power play bullshit. Clearly, she hated me. Since I didn't know her, I had to figure it had either something to do with my reputation or with football. Maybe she was a Beavers fan?

“Let me check,” she said, closing the door and locking it behind her. I really tried not to scowl in that moment, but it was hard to keep my feelings contained. Like she didn't know if Teagan was home. What a load of crap.

As I waited, I started to get nervous. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in a long, long time, and it was creeping me out. What am I freaking out over? I wondered. Well, at least my brain wondered. My heart, it knew. I made her bleed. I pretended not to know her, treated her with a sickening amount of disrespect. The whole bad boy thing was fine and dandy with other girls, girls who were playing around with me as much as I was playing with them. But Teagan was different.

She was fucking different.

I was starting to get angry again—mostly at myself—so I took a deep breath and held it for ten.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I slid it out as a distraction, catching a text from an unknown number.

'What do you want, Tyce?'

It was Teagan. It had to be Teagan.

'Can we talk?' I texted back.

'I'm in the middle of studying, sorry.'

I had to take another deep breath, count to ten again.

'We REALLY need to talk, Tea.' My thumbs flew across the letters with frantic speed. When I looked up, I caught a hint of Teagan's roommate smirking at me from behind the curtains. I ignored her, focusing on the screen and the yellow and blue bubbles that contained such an important conversation. I couldn't concentrate with Teagan around. I couldn't think straight. If I blew everything I'd been working towards, it'd all be for shit. The long hours, the endless practices, the sacrifices, the good-byes I never got to say. 'About the park,' I added with a quick send.

'Like I said, busy. Unless it's an emergency, I can't talk right now.'

'Bullshit. If you really didn't want to talk to me, you'd tell me to eat a dick and turn off your phone.'

There was a long pause as I stared at the yellow paint on the door. The building itself was done up in a dull beige, nothing remarkable, with stucco sides and white shutters. It was unimportant, like a canvas for the life that was contained inside, but I had nothing else to do so I studied it while I waited. Teagan would text me back, I knew she would.

I was right.

'What about the park? There's nothing to talk about.'

'I'm calling your bluff,' I sent back, turning around and sliding down the front door to sit on the scratchy welcome mat. I had a decent view from up here. The common areas around the apartment were well manicured, covered in perfect green grass and evergreen trees, dots of orange and yellow leaves splattering the ground like paint. I could wait. Believe me, when I wanted to, I could make up for my lack of patience with sheer stubborn bullheadedness.

'I'm sitting outside on your porch until you let me in,' I continued.

'Really? Because the other day, you couldn't run away fast enough. What's different now?'

Ouch. I deserved that, but it still stung like hell. I was a fucktard, wasn't I? I might not want a relationship, might not be able to handle one with Teagan, but that didn't mean I had to treat her like shit. I still couldn't believe I'd fucked her. Why would I do that? Because she was fucking gorgeous? Because her skin made me want to tear her clothes off just so I could get more of it?

'Oh, and thanks for not asking me how I was doing, how I felt, if I was okay.'

That one stung. Bad. I screwed up, and I knew it. I was her first, and I'd ruined the experience for her. That was a fact.

'You could've stopped by sooner.'

'I had a game.'

'And thanks for NOT inviting me.'

'Is that what you're upset about? The game? If you wanted to go, you should've asked.'

'This isn't about the game, Tyce Winship. If you think it is, you should really go now.'

'Is it about the sex?'

I fired off that last text and waited with a thumping pulse in my neck. It felt like I was eating my heart. Sex didn't mean shit to me. I didn't care who I did it with, how I did it. I wasn't a sex freak like Mason or Kai or Kirk, but I treated it like eating or breathing or sleeping. I just did it.

Until now. Even more reason to get up and run like hell, my brain quipped at me. Before things get so sticky, you find yourself stuck.

I kept staring at the screen, refusing to pull my gaze away until the next text came in.

'You made me feel like a whore.'

'You're not a whore,' I shot back, wanting her to know that with every fiber of my being. 'You're anything but a whore, Tea. I don't know why we did what we did back there, but it happened, and it's okay. We'll always have a history together. Emotions, memories, they get messy sometimes. This doesn't have to be the end of the world.'

I licked my lips and pulled a knee up, leaning my tattooed right elbow against it as I put my forehead in my hand.

'It may not mean the end of the world, but it does mean SOMETHING. At least to me.'

Pound, pound, pound. My heart jumped up in my throat. I was practically feasting on it.

'I'm not saying it meant nothing, Tea. I didn't know you were a virgin. I'm sorry.'

Crap. As soon as I sent that last one, I knew I'd made a mistake.

'Please go away, Tyce. Like, seriously. Go. And don't come back. I mean it this time.'

My forehead crinkled and my jaw tightened.

'Leave me the park at least,' Teagan added after a few seconds. 'You can find somewhere else to run.'

“No, seriously, I can read auras,” Melia said, clapping her hands together and scooting closer to her on-again, off-again best friend, Risika. They fought like cats and dogs and had more 'breakups' than any romantic couple I'd ever seen. Their last fight got hot and heated, with me caught right in the middle. Something about Melia sucking Risika's boyfriend's dick at a party last year.

I couldn't keep up with any of it.

“I don't believe in auras,” Risika said, letting her brown velvet eyes drift over to me. She reached up and pushed some blonde dreads over her shoulder while raising a pierced brow in question. “Do you?”

“You can't not believe in auras,” Melia continued, grabbing her best friend's hands and dragging them onto the folded legs of her lap. “That's like saying you don't believe in oceans or the moon or white bread. They just exist and there's nothing you can do about that.”

“For the record, I don't actually believe in white bread. It's all sugar.” Risika pinched her mouth and waggled her brows. I laughed and shook my head, leaning back into the lumpy beanbag behind me. At first, I wasn't sure about Melia's apartment. It was messy and weird and definitely a bit of a culture shock for me, but maybe I just couldn't appreciate it because I was so wrapped up in Tyce that day. I wouldn't say that I was completely over the shock of losing my virginity to that asshole, but it was starting to meld into the rest of me, become a part I just lived with and didn't think too much about. Anyway, Melia's apartment was becoming like a second home to me, a place I could really be myself and not give a crap about anything else. I loved it here.

“Just because you don't eat it doesn't mean it's not real,” Melia shot back, rubbing her thumbs over the tattooed clouds on either of Risika's wrists. One was gray with a lightning bolt crashing through it while the other was white and fluffy and basked with sunshine. “Now hold still and let me get a read.”

“You're on my side, aren't you, Teagan?” Risika continued as I turned my phone over and showed her a picture of the Swiss flag.

“I'm a neutral country here,” I told them as I watched Melia close her almond brown eyes and hum under her breath. The piercings on either side of her lip spun as she played with them with her tongue. “No votes from this peanut gallery, babe. Sorry.”

“Distract me with more stories from your anarchy days back in the desert. I want to hear everything. What did you burn down? Where exactly did you hide a dead squirrel? Who did you first fuck?”

I felt my face blanch, but I thought I'd recovered quickly, sweeping my hair back and pushing the mental calendar in my head as far away as I could get it. Two weeks, four days. That's how long I'd been a regular, sex card carrying adult human. I felt like Risika could see it on my face.

“I see indigo,” Melia continued, sitting there in her bright blue and white sundress. It was totally inappropriate for the weather, but I had little faith she'd be venturing outside the rest of the weekend. “Indigo indicates intuitiveness.”

“What are you, an alliteration expert? Let go of my hands. You're so full of shit.” Risika pulled her arms from Melia's grip and turned to look at me with a cocked brow. “Girl, you better not be holding back on something. Melia says you've been regaling her with stories.”

“I fucked up a lot,” I admitted as Melia pulled out a glass bong from beneath her couch. She lit up and took a hit, offering it to me. I didn't smoke, so I turned her down with a raised hand and tried to figure out how to salvage this situation. Risika was looking at me like I was a nut to be cracked. “I was a really angry kid. I tagged the school with graffiti that I called street art at the time.” I smiled a little at that. Tyce had been right there beside me, holding the spray cans while I painted the cement walls the way I wanted to paint my face. I'll admit, I wasn't a very good free form urban artist. It took me a while to channel that urge to be creative into makeup. “And yes, I found a squirrel on the side of the road and left its body in the AC vent in the principal's office at the junior high. It took them a week to figure out where the smell was coming from.”

“Kick ass,” Risika said as she leaned back against the couch and crossed her bare feet at the ankles. “You were a wild child, huh?”

“Yeah, but not anymore,” I said as I reached out and grabbed my soda, twisting the cap off the bottle and taking a drink. “That was the Teagan Fletcher from four years ago. After …” I wasn't sure how to explain Tyce to them. Could I tell them that their star quarterback was a bratty little boy from Nevada? It didn't feel like my story to tell. How stupid is that. Of course it's your story. Your mom went through so much to protect Tyce from his foster mom, to show him love, make him feel safe. And she paid for that. We both did. If anything, he owes me. “Anyway, I cleaned up my act, made good grades, got into the U of O.”

“Boring,” Melia said, taking another hit. “You forgot the last question. Sex. How old, with who, and was it good? You can forget the last part of that if you want. I'm sure the answer is no.” Melia and Risika both laughed, digging into the bowl of tortilla chips that was sitting between them.

“Who cares about high school sex?” I laughed, wishing my stomach didn't feel like a lead weight. I should've just made up a lie and rolled with it. But knowing me, I'd end up forgetting what exactly that lie was and eventually botching the whole story. Best to just let it go completely.

“Me,” Risika said, raising her hand. Melia copied her and they both proceeded to stare at me. I'd heard their virginity stories about a dozen times each, and we'd been friends for about as long as I'd been without the V card. “Tell us or I'll let Melia read your aura next.”

“Shut the fuck up,” her friend said, tossing a sea of chips in Risika's lap. “Let her talk. She has a story. I can tell.” Melia folded her legs up and leaned toward me, rainbow colored bong in one hand, white smoke drifting from between her closed lips.

I stared back at them, at the different shapes of their faces, their lips, their eyes. They looked so different, but yet they were so similar at the same time. I felt trapped beneath their gazes, and I still felt sick from that text conversation between me and Tyce. I kind of wanted to tell someone. Hell, they probably wouldn't even believe me if I told the truth.

“I … lost my virginity two weeks ago?”

“Is that supposed to be a question?” Risika asked, sitting up and raising her eyebrow at me again. I really wanted to reach across the space between us and rub the chocolate brown lipstick from her mouth. With her peach pale skin tone, she'd look better in pink. “With who?”

“Tyce Winship,” I said, and they both laughed. I didn't. I reached down and straightened out my gray wife beater, the one I'd been wearing since I was sixteen. It was still in relatively good shape, and it looked flattering on my body so I kept it. Hey, it wasn't like I was swimming in designer tops like Chelease.

“Tyce … Winship?” Melia looked confused as hell, giving her bong an evil look like the weed was probably to blame for my strange hallucinations and her misunderstanding. “Like, the QB for the Ducks?”

“Exactly like that guy,” I said, feeling a weight fall off my shoulders and crash to the mound of Persian rugs beneath me. “Like your future husband,” I joked, but nobody laughed at that one. The air was getting foggy and thick, and I was just about ready to leave, but I figured I was stuck here until I explained this one in detail. “We kind of have a history together.”

“What kind of history?” Risika asked, like she didn't believe me either.

“We grew up together. Since I was four.”

“You've … known Tyce Winship since you were four?” Melia again, still sounding confused as hell. Her brown eyes were narrowed on me suspiciously. “And you failed to mention this before, why?”

“It's complicated,” I told them, feeling my throat get tight and my hands turn into fists. I really didn't want to go through the full story here. Then I'd have to tell them about Tyce's family, about how his mother was killed at age twenty-two on her way to work. I'd have to tell them about the evil bitch that was his foster mother, how she hit him. Starved him. Abused and berated and tore him apart until my mother couldn't take it anymore. Then I'd have to explain the kidnapping charges that the city levied against her when she refused to give Tyce back to that monster. That story was not something I enjoyed telling.

“Holy shit, woman,” Melia exhaled, blowing smoke in my face. I needed to go before I got a contact high. I wasn't against smoking pot per se, but I personally wasn't a fan of it. “You lost your virginity to Tyce Winship, your childhood friend, two weeks ago?”

“In the park,” I continued, putting my face in my hands. “It was so stupid. We could've been arrested.”

“In the park?!” Risika stood up and moved over to me, sitting down hard next to my beanbag, pulling my hands away, so that I'd look at her.

“Did he have a big dick?” Melia asked, reminding me of that day I came over and watched the football game.

“Jesus, Melia, are you stupid? She's clearly upset about this.”

“I'm not upset,” I lied, raising my brows at them and taking another sip of my soda. When it tasted like ash, I knew I really, really was. Great. No matter how hard I tried to get over this, it kept creeping back up on me. In my heart, I knew it wasn't because of the sex, not exactly. It was Tyce and his seriously terrible attitude problem. It was his lack of empathy, his lack of apology, of explanation. I just wanted it all out on the table. Yet when he came to you to talk, you turned him away. You should've gone out there that day.

“You are seriously upset,” Risika told me, brushing my hair back and leaning her head against mine. “What happened?”

“It wasn't anything he did, exactly,” I started, trying to figure out how to explain it both to them and to myself. “It's the cold hard truth that's getting to me, I guess.” I took a deep breath, blowing it out and disturbing the cloud of white smoke in the room. “Tyce doesn't care about me now. Maybe he never did. The only thing he gives two shits about is football.”

“Well, if you really want to know,” Melia began, lifting up her phone and flashing me with a Snapchat video. “Then you should go and ask him.”

I took the phone from her hand and watched a dark, bouncing clip of Tyce dancing in New Intentions, drink in one hand, a girl in the other. I almost tossed the damn thing at the wall. Instead, I stood up and brushed my hands down my ratty old tank top. I passed the phone back to Melia and tried to catch my breath. My heart was skipping several beats, making this uneasy rhythm that had me seeing spots. It was one thing to know that Tyce had already gotten over our chance encounter, our single fuck, but it was a whole other thing to have to look at it.

“I gotta go,” I told them as Risika reached over and slapped Melia on the knee. They were already well into another BFF argument by the time I grabbed my coat, my bag, and my keys.

I ran the entire way back to my apartment.

Later that night, I was lying on my belly on the bed, a sea of dusty Polaroids splayed across the orange and yellow comforter. Most of them were blurry, vaguely recognizable figures, but there was this one of Tyce at sixteen that made my heart flutter even now.

He was standing at the edge of the river, his fingers tucked into the pockets of his black swim trunks. The smile on his face was enigmatic, that full lower lip of his twisted just slightly offside. The brilliant blue-gold of his eyes was startling considering the shitty picture quality. Even at that age, his body was beautiful to look at, a feast for the eyes. He had hard pecs, a sculpted tummy, and arms that made my fingers itch with the urge to reach out and touch. Of course, back then he didn't have any tattoos but the brilliant bronze of his skin shone in the afternoon light.

I remembered that day like it was yesterday.

“Fuck,” I mumbled, knocking the pictures to the floor like a flutter of autumn leaves. I rolled over and got out of bed to flick off the light, taking my phone back to the covers with me to set the next morning's alarm. As I laid down, the light from the screen reflecting on my face, I found my thumb hovering over my text messages.

I pressed the screen and scrolled up, reading the exchange between Tyce and me several times. It wasn't good. I wasn't how I'd wanted things to go, but I was hurting. And I'm still hurting. That video was not something I needed to see. Here I was, lying on my bed and looking at old pictures while he was out partying with his football buddies. With other girls. I didn't want to care, but I did. I mean, I figured he'd move on and start dating, but to drop right back into the whole one-night stand casanova bit so soon? Jesus that killed me.

'Are you still up?' I wrote before I could stop myself, sending my inquiry into cyberspace.

'Yup.' I got that back in an instant, my heart thudding painfully. Just talking to Tyce was hard. Or rather, just typing to him was hard. I watched the clock carefully. Two minutes later, I got another response. 'Just chilling in bed. Are you okay?'

I wasn't sure what that question was for, so I didn't know how to answer it. In the immediate moment, I was fine. I wasn't in danger, wasn't hungry, wasn't cold. But okay? How did I even begin to define that word?

I snuggled deeper under my blanket and tried to take comfort in the fact that it was printed with shimmering suns and blooming poppies.

'Did you have a good time at the club?' I sent and then cringed. Crap. That was not what I'd meant to say. It sounded desperate and sad, and that just wasn't what I wanted to be. Before Tyce could respond, I added, 'I saw your video on Snapchat.'

'God, I hate that fucking thing. It's like, ten seconds of randomness that doesn't mean shit.'

Silence.

I wondered what his face looked like then, what he was wearing in bed—or if someone was in bed with him. I debated asking if Tyce was alone, but decided I might not want to hear the answer to that question. I put my phone against my forehead and tried to figure out what to say next.

'Do you still sleep in just your underwear?'

I blinked in surprise as I lifted the phone back up and read that message. Seriously? Inappropriate question, but at least some small reminder that he remembered me. A little nothing detail about me. I considered my response for a long time, so long that Tyce was already messaging me back.

'Sorry. Stupid fucking question.'

'Definitely stupid. But the answer is yeah, I do.' I replied quickly and then bit the chipping red paint of my thumbnail. I kept picking these bright colors—orange, then yellow, then red. Or maybe I was just trying to mimic the colors of the season? 'What about you? Do you still sleep nude?'

Was that too inappropriate? I wondered, staring at the letters on my phone like they might scramble up and suddenly form Tyce's face.

'Hell no. My roommate's a dick. He'd probably take pictures and sell them on the internet.'

A pause. My turn to respond.

'Are you naked now?' I wasn't even sure why I'd asked that question, groaning and slapping the phone face down on my comforter. Weak light filtered through the cracked curtains on my window, teased the floor beneath the blinds on the balcony door. I stared up at the dark ceiling and pretended I could see the stars. Life should come with do-overs, I thought as I waited for the buzz of a new message. Or at least texts should.

My phone vibrated—twice. And I swallowed hard, closing my eyes for a long second before I checked the screen.

'Why are you asking?' and then 'Curiosity got the better of you, Tea?'

'Are you drunk, Tyce?' I asked, not that it mattered, but I needed to know.

'Maybe.'

'Are you alone?' Didn't know why I asked that. It wasn't any of my business. It was just, the thought of Tyce screwing somebody when I was still caught up in what happened at the park seemed wrong. I started typing a new message, telling him to forget about it when he responded.

'Yeah.' I hated how relieved I felt to hear that. Of course, he could've slept with her and sent her on her way, just like he did with me. I swallowed hard and tried to figure out what to say next, if I should just tell him goodnight and let it go. 'Been too busy with practice for girls. Just went out and danced for like an hour tonight to let off some steam.'

I liked the sound of that. Not that it mattered, not that I cared what he did. He'd made it clear that whatever was happening between us was accidental or maybe just plain unimportant. I tapped my phone against my lips, shifting a little against the soft cotton of my sheets. I really wasn't wearing anything but a pair of hip huggers, one of the few new pieces of clothing I owned. I'd set aside a very small portion of my financial aid for essentials. Clean undies, totally essential.

Buzz. New text.

It was a picture this time.

A really, really hot picture.

Tyce had just snapped a shot of his bare midsection, holding the camera up by his face while lying in bed. I got a nice, long lean shot of his body from pecs to sweatpants, the hills and valleys of his abs lit up from the flash. I could see his sexy right arm, thick with muscle and covered in tattoos, hooked on the edge of his pants with a thumb.

My body rebelled immediately, flushing me hot through and through, pulsing tight and frantic between my thighs. It wanted Tyce's body back, on top of me, inside of me. I wanted Tyce back.

“Oh my God,” I moaned, running a hand down my face. “What the hell was that for, you asshole?”

'See, not naked. Totally alone.'

I read the text and then quickly typed one of my own up.

'I didn't need to see that,' I sent at the same time another of his came through.

'Your turn. Undies. I want to see them.'

I felt myself snort before I could stop the sound. Hopefully, Chelease had her earbuds in and was firmly asleep. She liked to blast classical music like it was rock and take Ativan on the weekends. Still, before I took a photo, I got up and checked in the hallway. The nightlight next to the bathroom was glowing through its frosted glass cover, but otherwise, everything was quiet. I pushed in the lock on my door and tried not to feel like I was doing something wrong. Inside of me, this thrill was working its way down my spine as I tried to figure out if I was really going to do this.

“This is so stupid,” I whispered, flickers of Tyce's face after we fucked filling my mind. I wanted to keep being hurt, feeling betrayed, but it just wasn't in me. I wanted to talk to him.

'No pic?' And then I got a sad face emoji. He was definitely drunk now.

I climbed back into bed and stuck my phone under the covers, taking a crappy, blurry shot of my black hiphuggers and cutting it so my stomach didn't show. When I sent it to Tyce, I got this hammering ache in my gut. What was he going to say? What was he going to think?

Instead of a response, I got another picture.

It was Tyce with his sexy tattooed right hand in his pants. In. His. Pants.

The sight of his firm, lean midsection, those fingers diving beneath the fabric of his sweatpants, it made me want to scream. My nipples hardened and my breath caught in my throat. What the hell is happening here? I wondered as I put a hand to my chest and felt the flickering thunder of my heartbeat.

I could barely think that stupid word—sexting—but that was kind of where this was heading, wasn't it? Or maybe I was overthinking things?

Another text.

'Your turn.'

Or not.

I took a deep breath and briefly debated turning off my phone and rolling over to sleep. But I knew that would never happen. I'd lie awake for hours like I'd been doing the last few weeks, wondering where Tyce was, what he was up to. I'd been carefully controlling my days so there wasn't much time to think about him, but nighttime … that had always gotten me. Back when he first left, I used to sit on the porch with the shitty old corded house phone we had, pulled taut against the jack in the living room. I'd wait for him to call, to explain away everything with a laugh.

'Teagan? Are you there?'

I adjusted my panties so they sat perfectly on my lean hips and then slid my fingers beneath the waistband. I didn't mean to actually touch myself or anything, but I was so worked up from Tyce's photos that a flicker of pleasure shot straight through me, right from my clit to my brain. I snapped the shot, of my stomach muscles tucked in tight with a sharp inhale of breath, and I sent that to him. Sending pics of myself like this was about as stupid and dangerous and risky as fucking in the park, but Tyce was scrambling my brain, making me feel like the reckless teenager I'd been with him.

'That is so fucking hot.'

I seriously read that five times, sliding my fingers down my aching body until I found the wetness between my thighs. Then I scrolled up and stared at Tyce's photo while I used that moisture to touch my clit, swirling it in easy circles as my breath started to come in shallow bursts. His body was heavenly, clean and cut and molded into perfection by hard work and dedication. As I touched myself, I imagined him touching me, climbing into my bed, kissing me. I thought of him on the field, running goals and leaping deftly away from his enemies. It was like watching a dance.

My phone buzzed with a new message.

I flicked my thumb across the screen and scrolled down to it.

Tyce's cock.

He'd sent me a dick pic. I'd just gotten my first dick pic.

And it wasn't stupid or funny or annoying, it was just hot.

I stared at Tyce's long, curved length, the way his inked fingers wrapped his shaft and held on tight. He'd just barely pushed his sweatpants down, keeping his balls hidden, teasing me with a longer, more enticing view of his hips. It was criminal the way his muscles wrapped his body, the gleam of his tanned skin, the shimmer of moisture at the tip of his cock.

It took me several tries to swallow past the lump in my throat. My whole body was on fire now, burning and aching to be touched. I wanted him here so badly, didn't even care what might happen afterward. I almost invited him over, but then I remembered he was drunk, and he didn't have a car, and I didn't have a car.

I almost screamed.

Instead, I lifted the waistband of my panties and took a quick shot of my cunt, hitting send before I could stop myself. If we'd been doing this live, I don't think I could've gone through with it. The texts were just impersonal enough to make this work, to trick me into thinking this was going to mean absolutely nothing. But nothing between Tyce and me was as simple as that. Leave it up to us to turn sexting into some kind of emotional power play.

'I want to fuck you so bad,' he sent after a few minutes. I could only imagine what he'd been doing in the interim. I groaned and pushed my fingers inside of myself, flipping my phone around and blinding myself with the flash. I texted a pic of my breasts and wondered what he'd think. I'd been flat chested forever, a real late bloomer. I hadn't started my period until I was sixteen, hadn't gotten boobs until months after that. But now, I had a good solid set of Ds. Even though Tyce and I had slept together, he hadn't seen these in the park.

'I want to fuck those, too,' Tyce added, coloring my cheeks with a flush nobody could see. 'I want to hold them in hands, knead them with my fingers.' A pause that wasn't really a pause because I was touching myself, sliding my fingers in as deep as I could get them. It felt good, not as good as it would if Tyce were here, his long strong fingers teasing the molten core between my thighs. 'What do you want to do to me?'

A million different responses pounded across the surface of my sex addled brain. I was fingering myself and thinking about Tyce's football hardened body, the Latin words tattooed on his right pec that I couldn't read. I was imagining him going down on me, putting his tongue where my fingers currently were, tasting me and bringing me to the brink of orgasm before he entered me with his thick, hard cock.

'I want you to hold me.' I typed that up before I could even register what I was writing. I promptly deleted it and came up with something a lot less mood killing. Where did that come from? I wondered as I sent this instead: 'I want to taste your cock.'

It was a wild thing to say, but I'd always been a little wild. I could drag myself to college on a scholarship, rent a room in a sterile gray apartment, study computer science, but I'd always be me, the girl who set things on fire and made friends with boys like Tyce Winship.

My next message was a video, same angle as the pictures, a collage of sound and movement that brought a gasp ripping from my throat. Oh my God, Tyce. What are you doing? But I watched the video with wide eyes, moving my fingers back to my clit and rubbing the swollen flesh with vigor.

Tyce pumped his cock with a firm grip, the camera shaking in his other hand with the rapid motions of his body. Beads of sweat rolled over those abs, catching in the grooves between muscles, making him look like he was all oiled up. This is for me? I wondered as I watched, completely enraptured. Because of me? Groans slipped from Tyce's lips, crackling against the speaker as he moaned and squeezed and coaxed an orgasm from his cock. When he came all over the black comforter situated above him, the phone collapsed to his hard belly and I could hear him taking several breaths. When he picked it up, he pointed it at his sleepy, sex mussed face.

“Hey,” Tyce whispered in a husky voice drenched in male satisfaction. His blue eyes were shuttered and dark, more like a restless sea and less like a sun drenched lake. That signature full lower lip of his was twisted to the side in a gentle smirk. I had no idea how to interpret that. “That was all for you,” he continued, his voice already shifting from satisfied to sexual, desperate, wanting. “Because I can't stop thinking about you, Teagan.”

I felt my breath catch as the video ended, and I promptly restarted it.

I watched Tyce pleasure himself over and over again, working my body up until an orgasm came shuddering through me, purple lightning flickers of pleasure shattering my brain. I groaned, turning my head and biting my pillow as my back arched and I hit record on my phone. Panting, I collapsed back into into my crisp white sheets and quickly hit send, not bothering to even find out what I'd filmed.

'Goddamn it, Teagan. I'm coming over there.'

I panicked then, my brain wiped clean with the orgasm, giving me a crystal clear moment of unclouded thoughts. Tyce couldn't come over here. What would happen? We'd screw and he'd spring away on his fancy Ducks themed Nikes? I'd have to wait until his next game to see him on TV? And then what? How was this going to end? Not well was my guess. I'd lived my whole life with a shaky story, too many plot arcs, too many bad guys. I needed something that I knew was going to have a happy ending.

This wasn't it.

'You can't come here, Tyce,' I sent back, wondering exactly how drunk he was, if he'd even remember this in the morning. I mean, the proof would be in the pudding so to speak. He'd have evidence of this forever on his phone, but that wouldn't matter if he was missing the memories.

'Why not?' That text was followed immediately by another video. It was Tyce's staring back at me, lids half-shuttered, mouth half-open in a pleading almost-kiss.

“I want to fuck you, Teagan,” he said, his voice groggy and alcohol laden. Or maybe that was sex slurring his words? Desire? “I can't stop thinking about how good you felt pressed up against that tree. You were so tight, Tea. Hot and wet and tight. I can't focus at practice anymore. You're always in my head.”

I pursed my lips against another rush of hormones. What he was saying sounded great to my body, not so much to my heart. I lost my virginity that night, got slapped in the face with a harsh dose of reality, the real truth that Tyce Winship was not the same boy I'd grown up with. I almost turned my phone off, but I was afraid he'd come over anyway and make a scene.

I turned the camera on my face.

“You can't come over, Tyce. I'm sorry. If you can't figure out why that is, then it's even more reason for me to say no.” I sent that and waited with tense anticipation for him to respond.

'Why do you hate me?' he asked, surprising me.

“I can't do this like … this,” I said aloud, leaving my phone on the bed and heading into the bathroom. I washed my hands vigorously in cold water, trying to scrub the brand-new memory from my brain. When I tiptoed back to my room, I grabbed my old gray wife beater and pulled it on before sitting cross legged on the bed.

I had three more texts from Tyce.

'I really wanted to talk to you that day, Tea. You shouldn't have locked me out.'

'I needed to tell you some stuff, about why I left and everything.'

'What happened to Venus?'

I stared at the series of texts, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

'I don't hate you.'

Send.

'You hurt me, Tyce. I wasn't ready to talk yet.'

Send.

'I'd still like to know why you left.'

Send.

'Can we have coffee or something tomorrow?'

A whole five minutes passed before he responded, and I started to wonder if he'd fallen asleep.

'I have morning practice, but how about we meet at four? I can pick you up. I'll borrow Kai's car.' The thought of seeing him after tonight, going out for a mocha or something, that sounded horrible. But it needed to be done. We really did need to talk things out. Despite his coldness towards me, if there was a way to recapture even a spark of the friendship we'd once had, I'd love to have it back.

'Okay, Tyce. Goodnight.'

'Goodnight.'

I set my phone down next to me and stood up, heading to the balcony doors and stepping outside. It was cold enough to give me goose bumps, harden my nipples into painful points. It was late out, but there were always stray straggling college students. I probably should put some pants on.

Instead, I turned my face up to the moon and closed my eyes.

Emotions tumbled inside of me like clothes in a dryer. I could reach in a dozen different times and come up with a dozen different answers on how I felt about what just happened. None of them would match.

I stood up and ran my hands down my face. My heart was both glowing and broken, a neon sign of aching feelings and burning desire. I was used to that when it came to Tyce. What I wasn't used to was him giving me an in at the same time he was desperately trying to snatch an out. He wanted me, but he didn't. He needed to talk, but he didn't. Things were so much simpler when he'd treated me like an asexual sidekick.

I sighed.

I just spent an hour sexting my childhood best friend turned star quarterback.

How much weirder could things get?

The answer was: a whole hell of a lot.

I woke up with a serious hangover, and a weird feeling in my stomach. Unlike my headache, I knew that had nothing to do with the booze and everything to do with Teagan. I rolled over and snatched my phone off the nightstand, ignoring the flurry of new texts I'd already received today. There was only one person I was checking on and she hadn't sent anything since last night.

'Okay, Tyce. Goodnight.'

I sat up and looked over at Kai's rumpled bed. He was still asleep, sprawled out naked on his comforter with his dick lying flaccid against his thigh. There was a girl sleeping next to him, her head on his chest. She was a redhead like Teagan, and looking at her, I felt pissed the fuck off. Kai was gunning on bringing Tea back here and doing this, laying like this, with her. Lucky him he didn't. I would've fucking killed him.

I sat up and turned the volume down on my phone, so I could watch Teagan's video again. Her mouth was open wide, her eyes closed. I could see the pleasure in the slackened features of her face, the complete abandon. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking last night? I started the whole sexting thing with her, sending those stupid ass pictures, pictures that could get my ass in serious trouble. The local media was always sniffing around, waiting for a Duck to screw up so they could report about it, tell the whole world what big dicks all athletes were.

Now, a girl I'd fucked over and pissed off had several pictures of my dick, videos of me jerking off. If she wanted to, she could sell those. Maybe it wouldn't ruin my career, but it could definitely scramble things up.

I watched her video again, scrolled up and stared at her breasts. They were creamy and full, obviously soft to the touch with hard pink nipples that just begged for my mouth to cover them. My morning wood morphed into a painful ache that I reached down to take care of.

“Hey, you have a roommate, remember?” Kai laughed, acting like I hadn't had to wake up to him fucking his new friend over the bed about two hours after I finished with Teagan. He was absolutely loving having a roommate. Growing up a privileged single child, Kai was desperate for attention. From me, from girls, from Coach. From anyone, really. And with the administration desperate to prove to the world that their athletes weren't that spoiled, that overprivileged, we'd been put in the student dorms with everyone else. Kai had immediately requested me as his roomie. He was better than Mason, I guess.

“Like that matters to you,” I said, putting my phone down and giving him a look. “You run around with your dick flopping in my face, like it's some sort of gift from god.”

“I think it's a gift,” the girl next to Kai volunteered and he laughed, his big mouth opening wide as he chuckled like some Norse god or something. All big and blonde with his mouth full of square white teeth. He pulled the girl into his arms and they started kissing again.

“We have practice, asshole,” I snapped as I stood up with a raging hard-on and Teagan's pictures burning a hole in my pocket. I hit Kai with my pillow and then dragged a shirt over my head. Practice first, Teagan second.

And that was why she couldn't be mine. She needed—deserved—to be somebody's number one.

“Where are you running off to?” Kai asked me after practice, right after I stole his car keys. “No, wait. Let me guess, it's that girl again.”

“She has a name, dickhead,” I said as I smacked my gum and gave him a feral look. It was my don't screw with me right now look. Kai had learned it well over the years. My friendship with Kai is as old as my abandonment of Teagan. But I didn't abandon her. I saved her. I saved us both. I had to tell her that, how I would've been a mechanic and she would've been a mom and how that town would've trapped us both. Our love would've decayed and melted into hatred, just like my parents' had.

I took a deep breath as Kai shook his head and started gelling up his hair again. With another game coming up tomorrow, I doubted he was going out to party again. He probably had a date.

“Do whatever you want,” he said with a shrug of his big shoulders. “Just don't forget we have an actual game tomorrow. It's that thing you used to care about. You know, football.”

“Shut the fuck up, asshole,” I growled at him, keeping a surge of violence in check by hitting my fist against the wall. The keys dug into my palm as I squeezed them tight. “I've been killing it in practice. And I don't see the NFL sniffing around your asshole, so step off.”

“Whoa, overreaction much, Winship? Jesus. I was just reminding you to keep your head in the game, okay? I've seen a lot of the guys get caught up in girls. Just keep your nose clean.”

“Don't you think I know that?” I snapped, running my fingers through my hair. I knew better than anyone the kinds of sacrifices that had to be made to bring dreams into reality. Sometimes, to get one wish right, you have to give up a hundred others. Or at least one really, really big one. “That's why I'm going to see her, to talk. Tomorrow, we'll crush the Sun Devils, alright?”

“Okay, dude,” Kai said, but he didn't sound convinced. Maybe I didn't sound convinced either? Fuck, I'd spent the night sending nude pictures to Teagan Fletcher. I must've been out of my damn mind. “Hurry back.”

“Try not to be bare assed and fucking when I come home.”

“I'll try,” he chortled as I slipped out the door and down to the parking lot. As I walked, I noticed that my palms were sweaty despite the cool drizzle outside the dorms. It was cold as hell, but I was hot as a pig with an erection to match. Thick, hard, hurting. I wanted to bury it inside Teagan's warm body, move until I made her moan, made her jaw go slack, her eyes roll back. I wanted it so bad I could practically taste it.

I pinched my wrist until it bruised, trying to drag my mind up from the gutter. We were going to coffee to talk, not to get get warmed up for another sexting session. Or a screw in Alton Baker park.

I unlocked the doors to Kai's Mercedes.

I made her bleed. I used her.

Those thoughts would not stop haunting me. I needed this talk to clear my head. Thing was, I kept saying that to myself, that this visit with Teagan would make things better, but it only seemed to be getting worse. I tried cold turkey, two weeks and then some with no contact, and that didn't work either. The second she texted me, I fell right back into it.

Teagan Fletcher was a trap that I was falling for.

And I'd known all along this would happen.

How could I not fall for that face, those round pink cheeks, that wicked smile, the fiery red of her hair? It was a lost cause to even try and resist that. I needed to do what I'd done before and run the hell away.

“Talk is cheap, Winship,” I told myself as I climbed in and started the engine purring. I could hardly believe Kai was lending me this thing, but then again, his dad could buy a whole fleet of them and barely feel the dip in weight of his wallet. “Act now, ponder later.” I was quoting Coach Deryl now. Not a good sign. “This is the last play right here. Do what you need to do and finish it.”

I sped all the way to Teagan's place, confident that the cops were well acquainted with this vehicle. Kai was a notorious speed demon, rich, a member of the team. Nobody pulled him over. The only guy on the team that was more privileged was Mason Fenna, and he was a fucking dick.

I smirked as I thought about practice, about how I'd whipped his ass in frigging everything. Of course, he wasn't that far behind me and that freaked me out. I was the best. Me. The team was mine. I needed to keep my head in the game and keep things that way.

When I arrived at Teagan's apartment, I stayed in the idling car and sent her a text. If I went up to that apartment, things might happen between us. Sweaty, hot, sticky, grabby things that made my jaw hurt when I clenched my teeth and reached down to cup my junk.

'I'm in the parking lot,' I sent, rubbing myself as I wait for a response. It didn't help, just made things worse.

'Three minutes,' she sent back, giving me a small window of opportunity to be an asshole. I pulled up the pictures of her breasts, her smooth belly, those sexy panties, and slid my hand into my jeans. My dick was almost literally on fire at that point, a bit of friction and a firm grip and I was coming hard and fast inside of two minutes. Not a performance I'd ever want to pull during a real game. Good thing Kai had wet wipes in his dash. Didn't want to know what they were for, but they came in handy for cleaning up.

“Hey,” Teagan said, pulling open the door at just right the moment. I felt like she'd be easier to look at if I took care of myself. She wasn't. Her hair was loose and wavy, curled and falling around her shoulders in gentle waves like a river of liquid fire. Her shirt was new, white, almost see through. I could see her bra, the deep line of cleavage at the V-neck. But it was her eyes that really got me. They were as green and beautiful as usual, but they were also puffy, makeup smeared, moisture glistening at the edges. “Sorry about that. My roommate kind of freaked when I told her I was going out with you.”

“Seriously?” I asked as I reached over and brushed a jiggling teardrop away with my thumb. I didn't mean to do it; it just happened. Teagan's eyes whipped over to me in shock and I withdrew my hand, stretching my arms above my head like I didn't give a shit. I watched as her gaze caught on the edge of my shirt as it rode up and exposed a few inches of my belly. Her pupils dilated and she glanced away suddenly. “Why? About what? Did she make you cry?”

“Oh,” Teagan said, like she didn't realize her emotions were still showing, reaching up to rub at her eyes. “Sorry. No, that's something different.” I stared at her, waiting for her to explain. Instead she just looked at me like there was an elephant in the room, one she really wanted to sweep under the rug. “About last night,” she began, but didn't bother to finish her sentence. I guessed I was supposed to finish it for her.

I tried. I used to be able to do that, you know. Not anymore, I guess.

“I shouldn't have started all that with you,” I said, hoping that was what she wanted to hear. It wasn't. I was fucking up again. Teagan looked away, out the window as her neighbor, that girl I almost slept with, climbed into the car next to us. They stared at each other for a few, agonizing seconds before the bitch flipped us off and peeled out of the parking lot in her ugly ass Prius.

When Teagan turned back to look at me, her lips were pursed and she was clearly pissed.

This day was not going to go well for me, was it?

“Never mind,” she stated, leaning back on Kai's leather seat and buckling her belt. I couldn't pull my eyes away from the spot where it crossed her breasts, squeezing her chest tight and making me feel like I was losing my mind. Boobs are cool, right. They're great, but they don't flip me on my lid like some virgin kid with a nudie mag. This is ridiculous. “Where are we going for coffee?”

“Never mind?” I asked, using my anger as a blanket. It was my definite go-to. Not a good choice, but an easy choice. “If you have something you want to say about last night, you should just say it.”

“I don't have anything to say, Tyce,” Teagan assured me, looking straight out the front windshield and refusing to meet my eyes. I studied her slim profile, her pert nose, the heart shaped curve of her jaw where it met her small ears. She was wearing Oregon State Beavers earrings, probably to piss me off. It was kind of funny actually. “Can we go now? I have a lot of homework to do tonight and you,” a pause that seemed to stretch on forever, “have a game tomorrow. Don't you have a physical therapist or a nutritionist or a personal masseuse or a world class ass kisser that you need to meet with before the game?”

“That's funny,” I said as I released the parking brake. “Really, Tea. It's nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humor. Nice earrings by the way.” For the briefest of seconds, her lips curved into a tight smile, but it dropped away just as quick. With the tension in the car between us, it was hard to imagine the passion that had coursed through my body last night. I might not have been touching her, but I felt something. Something I shouldn't have, granted, but it was so much better than this. “Do you want to talk about the pictures?”

Teagan snapped her gaze over to me, but she didn't move her head, just her eyes.

It struck me that this was the first time we'd seen each other in person since the park. Since I took her virginity. Since I left her alone at night at a crosswalk with blood between her thighs and my semen inside of her.

I punched the steering wheel, and her eyes got big. Huge. Like two fucking mossy moons, pale and green and flecked with silver. Eyes. Not something you usually notice about a person. Hell, I had a hard time even remembering what color Kai's eyes were when he wasn't around and they were blue as fuck. Teagan … four years without seeing her and I still dreamed about those fucking eyes.

“Tyce, are you … okay?”

“Are you?” I asked, putting my forehead in my hand and glancing over at Teagan. She just continued to stare at me, her mouth partially open, her brows raised. “Well, are you?”

“Why wouldn't I be okay?” she asked, but the question was riddled—riddled—with hidden emotions. I kept staring at her, the faint buzz of the radio barely audible over the whirring sound of air blasting from the heater. “And why are you so mad? What is there to be mad about?”

“I'm mad because you're not mad. I'm pissed because you're not pissed. Call me an asshole, a fucker, a dumbass, a pig. Say something, talk about it. You used to tell me everything, blurt what was on your mind at the most random times. And now, there's something seriously screwed up here that we need to talk about and you're being polite and quiet and … weird.”

“Weird?” she asked, her voice bursting from her mouth like the screech of some wild bird. That was better, though. Much better. As kids, we used to have these epic rows. Just epic. Sometimes we'd even hit each other, smack and push and shove. I needed to see that her spirit wasn't broken, that I hadn't broken it. “I wanted to talk to you, Tyce. I wanted to tell you how I was feeling, but you left too quick for me to get it out. So maybe I am being weird, okay? But you know why? Because that whole thing was weird.” She shoved her fingers through her hair, getting it all tangled up and mussy. I liked it so much better that way.

“What thing?” I asked. I knew. I was being a dick again.

“That thing in the park,” she gasped out, unbuckling her seatbelt and letting it whip back into place. I pressed lock on the doors. I was afraid she was going to get out and leave me with this nagging feeling of guilt and shame and longing and lust that was stirring up dust clouds inside my chest. It was the most horrible thing I'd ever felt, like I was fucking up so bad, irreparably bad. “Losing my virginity like that, with you. There. That way. You left. I was feeling things, Tyce.”

“What did you want me to do?” I was seriously asking that question, listening to the sudden burst of raindrops on the roof. I think Teagan took it the wrong way. She still wouldn't look at my eyes. My mouth, my forehead, my cheeks. All fair game. But not my eyes.

“Not sprint away from me. Talk to me. Talk to me right then. Not two weeks and five days later.”

I almost smiled at that.

“You've been counting?”

Teagan rolled her window down a bit and stuck her head out, closing her eyes against the drops of rain before tucking herself back into the car. She took a deep breath, staring down at the white and blue leggings she was wearing. They stuck to her shapely calves, her tight thighs, like a second skin. When I'd left, Teagan had been a cute girl, but she was definitely a woman now.

“You should've had some compassion, Tyce. Pretending not to know me, flirting me with like that, like I was some Ducks fan at a tailgate party.” She shook her head, took another deep breath. I stared at her, at her smudged makeup and I wondered if maybe I was the reason she'd been crying. God, I hoped not. I might not be able to give her what she wanted, but I sure as shit didn't want to make her cry. “And then … I waited a long time to lose my virginity, to have my first kiss.”

“I was your first kiss?” That was news to me. I felt sick. I wanted to throw up. I slept around with girls who knew what they were doing, not people like Teagan. Teagan needed a boyfriend, someone to hold her at night, give her the attention she deserved. I was screwing that up completely.

She ignored me, picking at the fabric of her leggings, focusing intently on the ratty old tennis shoes she was wearing. I desperately wanted to get her new ones. But I didn't have a job. And I didn't have any money, not really. Everything I needed, the school, the team, they gave it to me. But as a college athlete, I didn't get paid. Even more proof that I wasn't ready for a girlfriend, a lover, anybody at all really.

“It might not have been a big deal to you, Tyce, but you leaving, it screwed me up so bad. I'm still reeling over the idea that you're here, that we're sitting in a car together. I almost threw up when I saw you.”

“I panicked, too. That's why I pretended I didn't know you. I had no clue what to say.”

“So you … cupped your junk and asked me to sleep with you?”

She had a serious point. Maybe I was suffering from brain damage or something? A few too many tackles on the field I guess.

“I'm sorry,” I said, and I really meant it. No strings attached.

“Can we go to coffee now?” she whispered, and I nodded. A cup of java might not fix everything, but it sure as hell wouldn't hurt.

“I know we have a lot to talk about,” I said, leaning back in the red leather chair and gazing across the short space in front of me to Teagan. Between us, there was some weird coffee table thing that was half beanbag/half chessboard. The checkered wood was positioned on top of the black beanbag, and it wasn't very sturdy. Whenever I touched it, it moved. “And there are a dozen places we could start, but … I need to know what happened to Venus.”

Teagan reached over to the coffee table/chessboard and grabbed her chocolate croissant. It was balanced on a white china plate, sliding around as she slopped it onto her lap. She really didn't want to talk about her mother.

I held my paper coffee cup with the compostable biodegradable faux plastic lid and enjoyed the warmth against my palm. It was storming like crazy outside right now, the wind chill driving icicles into my blood. I hoped it would clear up for the game tomorrow. Even sitting across from Teagan like this, I couldn't stop thinking about football.

“She died about six months ago,” Teagan said, staring down at her croissant. I really, really wanted her to look at me, but I guess she wasn't ready for that. Maybe she couldn't look at me without feeling my cock between her legs, wondering why I didn't stop when she asked me to stop. I'm such a stupid fucking asswad. “Good thing I was already eighteen when that happened,” she added. To somebody who wasn't from our town, it might seem like a cold statement. But there was only one place in Quaker Park where foster kids were sent. Trust me, I knew, I'd been there. It was the deepest level of hell.

I took a drink of my coffee, but it was bitter and wild. I needed cream and sugar lumped into mine, so sweet it sipped like freaking cake. I kept it clutched in my hand and watched as Teagan studied my shoes, a brand spanking new pair of black and gold Nikes. We were handed this stuff like it grew on trees. I felt bad wearing such nice shoes when Teagan's were practically falling apart at the seams. No matter what we talk about today, I'm getting her some goddamn cross trainers if I have to beat up Kai to get a loan.

“My mom got, uh, pneumonia,” Teagan said, and then she stopped talking. I watched her take a bite of her croissant. I figured she was planning on elaborating, but she just kept eating until there was nothing but crumbs.

“Pneumonia?” I asked, feeling my chest get tight.

“Yep,” Teagan said, reaching down and grabbing the coffee stained napkin from under her cup. “There was no exciting murder trial, no news worthy falls from Mount Everest, just … one day she got sick and then after that, she got sicker. I don't think she knew how bad it was, even towards the end.”

Bam.

Those green eyes snapped up to mine and grabbed hold fast and tight, hard. That crash of thunder and lightning I'd noticed before hit Teagan's face. Hate. There it was again. Hatred. For me. I didn't think she wanted to admit it, not even to herself, but it was there.

“She kept asking me if I could find you, bring you in to see her. Those last few days, the doctors kept telling me she was going to go in the night. And she didn't. She was waiting.” Teagan kept her gaze narrowed in on mine. “She was waiting for you.” A surge of anger in those words. “She went to jail for you. My mom was always fighting for you, Tyce, but I guess that didn't matter, did it?”

“I had to get out of there, Teagan!” I raised my voice; I yelled. Total dick move. I was freaking out a little inside, and I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't have any family. The closest I'd ever had was Teagan and her mom. Now Venus was dead, and I had to live with the fact that I ran away and never went back. I meant to, but as time passed, it just seemed weird. And I got scared, scared that if I showed my face there again, heard Teagan's voice, that I'd break and just give up, go back.

Teagan sat back suddenly and crossed her long legs at the knee. She might've been short, but she was perfectly proportioned, so sexy in those leggings, those sneakers, that plain white tee. Her makeup was still smudged, but she didn't need it, not with that face.

“I loved Venus, okay.” Deep breath. Just get it out and you can go. That's what I told myself. “And I loved you, too, Tea.” Her cheeks and neck flooded with color, but she wasn't looking at me anymore, staring at the old wood floors beneath our feet. I thought this building used to be an old train depot or a warehouse or something, I wasn't sure. “But what would've happened if I'd stayed in Quaker Park? I would've been a loser, a nothing. I was good at football, great. But nobody would've seen it there, nobody would've known.”

“So you left to play football. I get it, Tyce. I'm not an idiot, but why did you have to disappear in the middle of the night? Why didn't you visit? Call? Write? Email? Text? Jesus, you could've sent me a Tweet or a Facebook message. There are a million ways you could've told us you were okay, put a smile on my mom's face. I just don't get it.”

How do you look a girl in the eyes and tell her you loved her too much to be with her? Or maybe that you didn't love her enough to include her in your plans? I wasn't really sure. Even now, my feelings for Teagan were confusing and hard to sort out.

“If I'd stayed, we would've gotten married and had kids and lived in a shitty trailer by the cemetery.”

Teagan slammed her coffee down on the beanbag table, the paper cup crunching and splashing all over her wrist. It was lukewarm when we got it, so I didn't think she was burned, at least not physically, but I stood up to get some napkins like she was on fire.

When I came back and handed them to her, she snatched them away with chipped red nails.

“So you were doing me a favor? Protecting us both from a fate worse than death?” Teagan was shaking now, slapping at the coffee with the napkins while I stood there and fumed, too. I missed saying goodbye to Venus, screwed Teagan up by trying to save her. Or maybe my mistake was not walking away when I saw her at the park. I shouldn't have ever started talking to her again. “You were making sure we didn't fall in love by screwing my older friends, making them pity me, giving my mom the finger for all her sacrifices as you sprinted off into the sunset and draped your pathetic ass in green and gold?”

“What do you want me to say? I want a future. I don't have much of a past to fall back on, do I?” I waited for Teagan to respond, but she didn't, still leaning forward with her ruined coffee cup clutched in her hand. “I'm fucking sorry, Tea. I left because it was better for both of us. And maybe I was right? Look, you got out, didn't you?”

“I don't want to fight with you anymore,” Teagan said, proving that she really had grown up since I'd left. She was way more in control than I was. “I don't want to make that my life, Tyce. Fighting, screaming, arguing with you. That's all we do when we see each other now. I guess … I guess I know all I really need to know. You left to make a life for yourself. It was too hard to call or something stupid like that. Let's just walk out of here and go our separate ways, okay? Smile, wave, if we run into each other in the future.”

I felt empty at that statement, like I was getting mummified, having my brain ripped out through my nostrils and my heart shoved into a jar. Teagan was telling me exactly what I thought I wanted to hear and yet, I couldn't have been any less thrilled.

“You're right,” I said, sitting back down and pushing my coffee towards her. “We're in different places in our lives right now. It was good to see you again, though. Really.” Teagan lifted her head finally and looked me in the face without any sign of that red veined hatred pulsing behind her eyes. She studied my face, searched it thoroughly and then nodded. If we'd done this to start off with, before we'd kissed, slept together, whatever else, then it might've worked. At this point, I wasn't so sure.

“You don't have any diseases, do you?” Teagan choked out, making me raise an eyebrow. It actually took me a whole minute to figure out where she was coming from. Oh. Fuck. Condom. Or lack thereof. Jesus.

“No, no diseases,” I whispered. I had enough physicals to know that for sure.

“Good.” Her voice was hoarse as she continued to stare at me. “And I wanted you to know, I'll delete all the pictures and videos from my phone, so don't worry about it.” The reminder of last night sent a thrill through me, turned my cock to stone. Teagan saw, but she didn't say anything. What was there to say? It was hot, sure, but it was over now. “I'll be watching the game from my friend's living room tomorrow. Can't wait to see you crush the competition.”

She stood up and I followed suit, getting ready to drive her home.

“Thanks.” I smiled. “I'll wink at the camera for you.” I got a tiny, half-smile in return. “Oh, and if you really don't want me to go back to the park, I'll stay away. I haven't been there since.” Since I fucked you and made you bleed. GODDAMN IT. I didn't want to think about that anymore.

“It's fine, really. It's a big park. Run there if you want. If we run into each other, maybe we could jog a mile or two together?” The thought made me more excited than it reasonably should. This whole cleansing thing wasn't exactly going the way I wanted it to. “Oh, and I have places to go around here. I'll call a cab when I'm ready to go home.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm sure, Tyce.”

Saturday, game day.

How exciting.

For everybody else that was; I wasn't watching. Instead, I had videos of the star quarterback jacking off and telling me how hot and wet I was, how he couldn't concentrate at practice because I was always in his head.

Guess that was all bullshit.

Today, the University of Oregon Ducks faced off against the Arizona State Sun Devils, and I couldn't have cared more or pretended that I cared less. I'd given Tyce an easy out in that conversation and he'd snatched it right up, looking ridiculously relieved, like I was an anchor strapped to his leg. He'd been beyond happy to cut me off.

My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Melia was texting me nonstop, asking what time I was coming over. I'd already told her I wasn't.

“Are you okay?” Chelease asked, standing in the kitchen and clutching a wooden spoon in her hand. I think she was making cookies, but it didn't matter much to me. Food had once again turned to ash in my mouth, so I was kind of on a temporary fast. Come Monday, I'd pick myself up and eat three square meals a day. For now, I didn't give a crap.

“I'm good, thanks,” I lied as I tucked my legs up on the couch next to me and enjoyed the fact that Chelease didn't have a TV. I could've cracked open my computer or used my phone to watch Tyce, but I was sure a sports package cost more than I could afford. That is, if I was even interested in watching. “Why? Do I look mopey or something?”

“You just look sad,” Chelease told me pulling the spoon from the dough and rinsing it carefully in the sink. She completely and utterly bought the whole salmonella from raw eggs thing and refused to take a single lick. Personally, I liked to live on the edge, but I really didn't want to piss her off again today. Yesterday, she'd lost it completely when she heard I was going on a coffee not-date with Tyce. I knew a ton of people that disliked sports, but I'd never met someone with such a vehement hatred. I didn't understand Chelease at all.

“Thinking of my mom again, that's it,” I said, which wasn't entirely true. Yesterday, I'd gotten those Polaroids out, dug through them until I found my mother's smiling face and sobbed like I never had back home. The whole time my mom was sick, the day she lost the fight and closed her eyes for good, I stayed dry-eyed. Since I'd run into Tyce, something had shifted in me, made my eyes water all too frequently. This whole thing with him was like a handful of salt into the open wound of my heart. Today, though, I was thinking pretty much exclusively about him. Mom was dead; it might've been easier if Tyce were dead.

I spun around on the couch and watched Chelease scoop balls of cookie dough out with a spoon. They were oatmeal raisin, I think. I stared at her long, strong arms, the way she moved with careful purpose for even the simplest of tasks. There was a focused, determined way that Chelease did things that made me wonder about her. Either she was just driven, or something was driving her. I couldn't tell. Maybe I was just reading too much into nothing? If there was anyone in this house with issues, it was me.

“I think I'm gonna go study a while,” I said, but I felt too restless to study. My phone kept buzzing with new texts from Melia, a few from Risika. It sounded fun to go hang out, have a beer or something, but I didn't know if I could stomach shots of Tyce in his uniform today. Yesterday was so clinical and dull, our conversation frustratingly mature and utterly unhelpful. I guess we'd just write off our history, the sex, the dirty pictures, pretend none of it happened and move on. In theory, a great plan.

In practice, not so much.

I closed my door and locked it, sitting down at the small vanity in the corner and poking through the sea of cosmetics until I located some green and gold. I might not be feeling the team spirit much today, but I had a healthy following of Instagram followers that liked to check out my makeup. Maybe they'd appreciate a little nod to the game?

I cleaned my face off with some makeup wipes, preparing my canvas for color. My idea wasn't very original—lots of people painted their faces for games—but I wanted to do it in a way that was artful, classic, feminine.

I leaned in and started contouring the right side of my face with gold. I figured why not do one side for the home team, the other for the visitors? I didn't owe allegiance to anybody. I was from the middle of nowhere, a city called Quaker's Park where anybody and everybody was allowed on the football team because even then, there were hardly enough people to make a practice game possible. Nobody visited us on Friday nights to face off, and we certainly didn't travel anywhere to play.

No wonder Tyce needed to get the hell out of there.

He was right; there was nothing there for either of us. Except love. I choked up as I dusted my forehead near my hairline, my cheekbone, along the edge of my nose, my jawline. I even added a little at the edge of my tear duct to brighten things up. Next came the green, a cascading sea of colored sparkles from my eyebrow all the way down to my lashes. Black mascara, some matching liner that curved up at the edge of my eye to make the Nike swoosh, a nod to one of the team's sponsors.

“If I'd stayed, we would've gotten married and had kids and lived in a shitty trailer by the cemetery.”

Tyce said that like he was describing a post apocalyptic nightmare. To me, it didn't sound so bad.

Was he saying he could've loved me? That he did love? Does he love me now? I was so confused.

I stared at myself in the mirror as I applied green lipstick to exactly half my mouth, pulling out a glimmering gold liquid liner and using the tiny brush to paint half of the famous University of Oregon 'O'. I connected it on the other side with dark red lipstick and a pale pumpkin orange 'A' in another shimmering liner I had in my stash.

As I painted, my thoughts came clearer, freed from my body along with a rush of creativity. As I stared at myself, watched my thin, pale face transform into a piece of living, breathing art, I tried to sort out my feelings. Or maybe it was Tyce's feelings I was trying to figure out?

He didn't care about me, yet … everything he did was in my own best interest. What was that about? And his excuse for not calling or visiting? It was that he was too … scared to talk to me? See me? That he was afraid of falling in love with me? I just flat-out didn't understand any of it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out, tossing it facedown on the shiny white surface of the vanity table, another piece of furniture that belonged to Chelease. Sitting right next to it was the yellow-orange eyeshadow I was looking for. I crushed it up into a fine powder and then dusted the same areas on my left side. My freckles still showed, dancing across the bridge of my nose like stars, but I didn't mind them so much with this look. I looked rugged, sporty, but still pretty.

I was in my own element now, a nice reminder that I'd pulled myself together once, fought past the hardship and the pain Tyce left with me and triumphed. I could do that again. Now that we'd settled on the idea of becoming strangers again, life would sort itself out. Besides, he didn't deserve to talk to me. He'd betrayed my mom and me, so screw him.

As I pulled out a burgundy shadow and started in on my left eye, I pulled up memories of Tyce and the bruises on his arms, his shaved head, the trembling of his hands. His foster mom was a monster—a rich, connected monster. She took kids in that'd had hard lives and made them even harder. Instead of using her wealth and privilege to take care of him, she'd beaten him, humiliated him, even once locked him in a bathroom with a bucket full of bleach and ammonia until he'd passed out. When my mom had tried to report it, the cops and DHS had looked the other way.

So she'd taken him in. For a while, everything was fine. Tyce's foster mom, Jackie, didn't much care where he was at first, especially if it was with my mom; she used to like Venus. But when Jackie had learned it was her, that my mom was the bitch that had reported them way back when, she lost it. When she demanded Tyce back, my mother refused. She got charged with kidnapping; my life became a living hell for a while. My mom, me, we made so many sacrifices for Tyce and yet we hadn't been worth the cost of a stamp? A five minute phone call?

“Fuck him,” I snapped, as I slammed my makeup brush down on the table and took a look at myself. My face was the perfect blend of sports fanatic and glamour. I snatched up my phone to take a picture and noticed Tyce's name in my notifications. What the hell?

'I'm rocking pink for boobs,' he sent, followed by a selfie of him in a black and pink football uniform, a neon pink helmet on his head. It was Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and the Ducks were sporting its signature colors. Tyce looked criminally gorgeous in them, even though I could barely see his face, just the full ripe curve of his lower lip and a few tattoos between his sleeve and his glove. I spotted the spider, its web, a black and gray skull. 'I'll be playing today for yours.'

I had no idea what that was supposed to mean. Talk about mixed messages.

I looked up and met my green eyes in the mirror for a long moment, studying my makeup, the brilliant play of color on my lids and lips. My skin shimmered with the brightly colored powder, and the pitchfork I'd drawn off the edge of my left eye was a nice asymmetrical balance to the Nike Swoosh.

I resisted the urge to chew at my freshly painted lip and then lifted the camera, snapping a wide-eyed selfie of my makeup and sending it over to Tyce. I wasn't sure if he was supposed to be playing with his phone, or what time the game even started, but I guess when you're the star QB, you can get away with murder.

'The right side is hot. The other side, not so much.' I almost smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown. Hot? My face was hot? My face was not supposed to be hot. Hadn't we just decided on that at coffee yesterday?

'Why are you texting me?' I asked, because I needed an answer before my head exploded.

'Because we're friends again,' he responded, like it was that simple for him. Now that we'd agreed that our feelings were getting in the way of our prospective life paths, that we tended to have pretty toxic encounters because of that, we'd just wipe it all away and be buddies. 'And I play twice as hard when I know you're watching.'

'Conflicting statements,' I shot back. 'I can't be both a detriment to your career, and a bonus. Didn't we just agree not to talk?'

'Is it okay if we do? Talk, I mean. Not fuck or fight or anything, just talk. Can't we be friends again? We had plenty of good times together when we were kids, no sex or romance involved.'

I pursed my lips and felt my muscles tense as I resisted the urge to scroll up and watch that video again. I'd promised to delete it; I couldn't. The two sides of me warred, the part that hated Tyce with the part that loved him, that had always loved him. I guess I didn't have to fall in love with him to love him though, right? I didn't have to screw him to care about him. And I didn't have to forgive him to talk to him.

And I liked talking to him. When we weren't fighting, it was fun. Now I just had to figure out how to look at him without flushing hot and warm, remembering the feel of his cock inside of me, drooling at the sight of that long, lean muscular body of his. To be honest, I actually wasn't sure if I could do it.

My body and my heart called my brain a traitor when I texted him back.

'I guess so. Okay. Just don't send me anymore dirty pictures.'

And that's how Tyce Reynolds Winship and I started to become friends again.

Look how easy that was, I thought at the time.

I could not have been anymore wrong.

Being friends with Tyce was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life; it changed the course of it—irreparably.

I was running in the park in the trashed pair of white sneakers my mom had purchased for me freshman year of high school. They didn't look like much, but at least they cushioned the rise and fall of my feet as I chartered a course around the duck pond at one end of the park and started down the path next to the canal, heading for the dog park and the football stadium. I had to pass the damn thing on my way into the park and again on my way out.

Of course, each and every time I did, I thought about Tyce.

It was annoying because I didn't actually need any help conjuring my childhood friend up in my brain. He was sort of always there anyway. Our random declaration of platonic friendship yesterday didn't really change anything, but I wished it would. Maybe I just needed more time?

I came to a stumbling stop and practically fell onto the water fountain, sucking back several gulps of cool, clean water before I stood up and felt my phone buzzing in the zippered pocket of my running shorts. It was a clever design, a horizontal zipper along my back, right above my ass. It was just big enough for my phone, an ID, and my debit card.

'I see you.'

A message from Tyce, obviously.

I looked up, glancing around the park, feeling panicked all of a sudden. Here we were, again, alone in the park. I swallowed hard and laced my fingers behind my head as I did a three-sixty and tried to find him. He was easy to find. That perfect, bronze chest and those tattoos were hard to miss.

My throat closed up as he jogged down the path towards me. It couldn't be an accident that he was here, right now. He'd texted me last night and asked if I'd enjoyed the game. I'd lied and told him he was great, and then he'd asked me what I was doing today.

I thought he was just being nice, trying to make this friend thing actually work. I guess he really had wanted to know. And then he'd asked me my shoe size. Still couldn't quite figure that one out.

“Hey there,” I said, hating how my voice got snatched up by the wind and torn away. I didn't mean to sound like that. I'm Teagan Fletcher. I light things on fire and put dead squirrels in people's offices. Hmm. Not as motivating as I would've liked.

I continued to stare as Tyce walked up to me, moving like some sort of wild animal. His movements were easy and well-practiced, backed by speed and muscle, coordination and training. The skull on his chest smiled back at me as Tyce paused a little too close, his sweats way too far down his hips to be legal. There was this big, wide smooth span of space between his belly button and his waistband. Clearly, he shaved because there was no hair to be seen anywhere on his person. I didn't mind—I really didn't mind—but I was absolutely positive his dick was right there, just below that line of fabric. If his pants were any further down, I'd be looking right at it.

I tried to pull my gaze away but the black and gray sparrows on either side of his hips kept my attention focused in the most inappropriate places. He had to have done that on purpose. The Sailor Jerry style tattoos rode right over the lines of those V muscles, an Adonis belt I think it was called. They tucked in so tight, giving him this valley on either side that I wanted to put my tongue in.

Friends, huh.

This was so going to work.

I turned back to the water fountain and splashed myself in the face on the pretense that I was just tired from my workout. Who would know the difference? My heart rate was already sky high, my breath coming in gasping pants, my muscles quivering and covered in sweat. Either I'd just run several miles or … I was lusting over Tyce.

For the last several weeks, I'd tried to figure out why I'd done what I'd done, let him fuck me in the park. Standing here like this, I remembered in vivid detail.

“Didn't meant to crash your run, but I needed to get out of the dorms. Kai gets in these screaming arguments with his dad, and he flat-out fucking refuses to take them elsewhere.” Tyce shrugged loose and easy when I looked back over at him. Only … he wasn't looking at my face, he was staring at my ass which was sticking out as I stayed bent over the water fountain.

I stood up suddenly and his eyes moved quickly up to mine.

In his left hand, a pair of green, black and white tennis shoes hung suspended.

Tyce's blue eyes flashed with some of that gorgeous gold color, and he smiled. It was a big, nice friendly smile, unlike anything I'd gotten out of him since bumping into him at right about this spot in the park. Now that sex and romance was off the table and our relationship was neatly packaged and put in its place, he seemed a lot more affable.

“I brought you a present,” he told me, holding out the shoes and waiting for me to take them. I stared at his face, at the strong straight bridge of his nose, his dark brows, the way he kept this swaggering smirk resting at the corners of his lips at all times. I think it was a front. I'm not saying Tyce wasn't confident or anything, but I think the look was a mask for his emotions. He'd always been a seriously emotional guy with some seriously itchy anger problems.

That's why we understood each other so well; I was exactly the same way.

“These are for me?” I asked as I took the shoes in my hands and checked the size. They were a size six. “And now I know why you asked me my shoe size.” I tried not to smile, but it happened anyway. I looked him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

“It's the least I can do,” he said, but then quickly brushed off the sticky feeling in the air by waving his tattooed hand at me. “They might take a while to break in, but you want to try a practice run around the park?” Tyce paused to pull out a black wifebeater that was hanging from the edge of his sweatpants. When he slipped it over his sweaty chest, I suddenly found it a lot easier to think.

“Why not?” I said, sitting down on the nearest bench and pulling off my dirty, old sneakers. I tied the laces in a knot and set them aside. I didn't have a lot, so I wasn't really into purging. If I could stick my feet in the shoe and walk around in them, I was keeping them. “This is really nice of you, Tyce. You didn't have to buy me anything.”

“I know,” he said, but he didn't elaborate, watching me as I laced up my new shoes and stood up, hopping from foot to foot to test them out. They were perfect, a tiny slice of heaven on my heels and toes. I stared down at the metallic silver stitching and green and black stripes while Tyce continued to study me. “Are we okay? I didn't feel good after our coffee thing.”

I bent down and touched my toes, pressing on the material to see how much room I had. Just enough to keep my feet from hitting the end, not enough that the heel would slip. I concentrated on that because I didn't want to put too much thought into this conversation.

“I was surprised to see your text yesterday, but I like the idea.” I stood up, stretched my obliques with a lean to the right, then the left. I wanted to tell him that we could've started as friends all along, that if he'd just said, 'Hey Teagan! What a coincidence, bumping into you here,' that our relationship would be a hell of a lot less complicated. But I'd already told him how pissed I was. More than once. It was time to move on. “I could always use another friend. It feels good to have people, you know?”

Tyce went really still, like he was considering saying something important. The wind grabbed his clove brown hair and tossed it around his face before he raked it back with his fingers.

“It really does.” Tyce stood up and put his hands on his hips, making my heart do this fucked up little flip-flop thing. Crap. Maybe that was just a side effect of losing my virginity to him? If I found another guy I liked, started sleeping with him, wouldn't that just go away or something? Ugh. “Ready to run?”

“I'll race you to the stadium?” I asked and Tyce smiled back at me.

We both knew he would win.

“You're going to a Halloween party with Tyce Winship?” Melia asked me when I finally called her back and apologized for skipping game day. “Which one? Because I need to come and see this for myself. I know about maybe ten or eleven parties happening tonight. Narrow this down for me.”

“One of the guys on the team is local, and his parents own some huge mansion in Southwest Eugene. I don't know the exact address.”

“Don't need it. I know exactly where you're going. Mason Fenna's place.”

“Mason Fenna?” I wracked my brain trying to match the player with his position, but I wasn't nearly as good at all this sports stuff as Melia was. She sighed at me and turned on some loud reggae music in the background; it was her going out playlist. I'd already heard it several times since we'd met. Melia liked to go out a lot. At least she was a happy drunk.

“He's in the twos,” she told me, meaning he was a second string player. “Sophomore QB, all geared up to take Tyce's place when he goes into the NFL next season.”

“Oh.” Talking about Tyce leaving after I'd just found him again made me feel weird. I already knew he was pushing it by adding a third year to his college career. Most guys as good as him skipped out and into the NFL as soon as they could. After all, you never knew when an injury might happen so it was best to go pro and snatch those fat paychecks ASAP. I knew all of this, not from Tyce himself, but from Melia and her football obsessed posse. They practically worshipped at the Ducks altar.

“I'm dressing up as a cheerleader, not entirely original I know, but I want to get laid by a football player and live out a fantasy here.” I listened to her describe her green and yellow costume, but I had a difficult time imagining her actually wearing it. Melia was … I didn't want to put her in a box, but she had hairy armpits, a mandala tattooed on the back of her neck and a pet tarantula. Cheerleader was definitely an 'out there' costume for her. “What about you?”

“I'm not sure yet,” I lied, because all I was sure about was that I didn't have money for a costume. I had a fallback plan though—makeup. I had plenty of it, most of it stolen from the drug store back home. Not something I was proud of, but it was over and done with and I had it here with me now, so I was going to use it. “I'll send a pic when I figure it out.”

“Don't worry about it. I'll be at the party, and we'll dance—and then you'll hand me your cherry popping friend for a sexy number, preferably one that involves twerking.”

“Tyce is kind of a dick. If you want to dance with him, ask him. I'll see you in a few hours.”

I hung up on Melia and ignored the frantic pumping of my heart. Cherry popping. Jesus. How gross. It made me think of scrubbing blood off my thighs, alone. I didn't want to think about that right now. Tyce was actually as cool as I remembered him when we weren't fighting or fucking. I needed to hold onto that.

'Can I come over early for pre-drinking?' Tyce texted as I opened the top drawer of my dresser and tried to figure out how I was going to come up with a costume idea that made sense. 'I'll bring the booze if you tell me what you're wearing tonight.'

I frowned and grabbed an old white dress of my mother's from the pile of rumpled clothes. I didn't fold anything—ever. I just didn't have time for it with school and … Tyce drama. I laid it out on the bed and then snatched the blue corset I'd bought at the thrift store last week. It was in the dollar bin, okay? I didn't know how I felt about wearing somebody else's used lingerie, but it seemed to be in pretty good shape. Royal blue, lined with satin, with a set of ties in the back and hook and eyes in the front. I had no clue what to do with it, but it'd seemed like a costume-y thing at the time, so I bought it.

'You can come over, but I don't know what I'm wearing. You?'

A picture buzzed into my phone.

It was Tyce, dressed in very, very little. He was sporting tight jeans, black boots, and absolutely no shirt. Um. The long, lean shot of his midsection was emphasized by the height of the camera as he'd lifted it above his head. The shape of his mouth said he knew how delicious he looked right now.

'That is not a costume,' I told him as I glanced down at the white shift, the blue corset. My mind was starting to flick ideas around, coming up with a creative mishmash of a plan. Galaxy. I wanted to go as a galaxy tonight. Why not? The world was a big place, but it was a speck when compared to the entirety of the galaxy. Besides, a killer makeup idea had just popped into my head.

'Is too. I'm going as a rock star. They never wear any fucking clothes.'

'I don't know what kind of rock shows you've been going to, but they usually wear more than that.'

'I'm gonna sound like a douche, but I've been too busy with games and practice to figure anything else out. You're not too embarrassed to go with someone in such a lame fucking costume?'

Embarrassed to attend the party with a guy who was on his way into the NFL, who had six pack abs, who pretty much everyone at the university lusted after. Hmm. Tough choice.

'Better than that time you dressed up as your foster mom for Halloween.'

I remembered that like it was yesterday, Tyce dolled up in bright pink lipstick, a blonde wig and a navy blue suit he'd stolen from Jackie's closet. He'd even stuffed his shirt with water balloons. One of them broke during trick or treating. It was amazing.

He sent me back an LOL and then, 'Yeah, those were the days. Can't wait to see what you decide to wear. See you in twenty, Tea?'

'I'll be waiting.'

I sent off that last text, my heart bouncing up into my throat like it was on a trampoline. I hated getting nervous about Tyce, but I couldn't make it stop. I didn't know how. Instead, I made a plan to grab some of Chelease's fabric paints and splatter the dress in artful blues and purples and golds, like a swirl of nebulous gas or something. It was quick dry, so it'd be ready to wear in a jiff. I'd be able to check off the sexy Halloween angle with the corset and the lacy shortness of the shift dress, but it'd be the makeup that would pull it all together.

Now, I just needed to make sure my roommate would let me borrow her precious craft supplies. She got mad at me once for using her glue gun without asking to fix the heel of my old tennis shoe.

“Hey Chelease,” I asked as I moved into the living room and found her digging costume pieces out of an orange bag from the Halloween store. She'd bought everything for her sexy witch costume two weeks ago. On top of everything as usual. It wasn't very inventive, but considering what I knew of Chelease, that was as out there as Melia's cheerleading outfit. Polar opposite girls, polar opposite costume choices. “Can I borrow your paints for a quick costume fix? I promise I won't mess anything up.”

“Sure,” she said, nodding her head at the small hallway linen closet, the one that didn't actually have any linens in it. It was filled with Chelease's arts and crafts supplies. “Fifth shelf down on the right.”

“Perfect, thank you,” I chirped, in way too good of a mood. But I was going out, and I was having fun with Tyce, and … I just didn't feel like being in a bad mood anymore. “Oh, and my friend Tyce will be here in a little bit. Just wanted to give you a heads up.”

The sound of crinkling plastic in the dining area stopped and this deadly sort of silence settled in the air around us. I grabbed the plastic bin, stuffed to the brim with neatly organized fabric paints, and then stood up, closing the hallway door with my foot.

Chelease was glaring at me, her brown eyes almost black with dilated pupils.

“Is everything okay?” I asked her as she reached up and tore the pale blue scarf off her head. “Chelease?”

“No,” she snapped at me, throwing things around as she searched for something in her costume pile. “It's not. Why do you keep hanging out with that guy? I saw him hit you, Teagan. I saw you stumble home from the park looking like you'd had your heart broken in half. And after coffee, your eyes were empty and blank. You don't have to give into him just because he plays for the Ducks.”

“I'm not,” I snapped back, suddenly defensive. Had I looked that terrible after my outings with Tyce? “And he didn't hit me. I fell.”

“Sure, whatever,” Chelease growled as she tore open a plastic bag and shook out a glittery purple witch hat. It snapped into its triangle shape with a pop. “Lie to yourself if you want, but don't lie to me, okay?”

I moved into the living room, my bare feet whispering across the beige carpet as I came to stand next to her. The thing that was driving her, that I'd wondered about, it was starting to peek out the edges of her carefully groomed facade. And it was bad. That much was obvious based on her reaction.

When I reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, she jerked violently away from me.

“Chelease, what's wrong?” Without warning, her eyes filled with tears and she started ripping her own dress off, slipping the witch outfit over her head with violent, jerking motions. I watched as she pulled a petticoat up her legs and fluffed out the skirt. “Did Tyce do something to you?” I started to freak inside, worrying about a past hookup gone wrong or something, but that was just me being a selfish, stupid a-hole. It was so much worse than that.

“Not Tyce,” she snapped, kicking off her sandals and grabbing a pair of pantyhose from the table. “Not exactly.” Chelease sniffed as tears rolled down her cheeks in fat, wet drops, splattering her bare toes and bouncing off her carefully applied purple polish. “I just don't trust guys like him, Teagan, and I don't want to see you get hurt.”

“Guys like what?” I asked carefully, aware that we were stepping into dangerous territory here. I set the paints on the table, my hands resting on either side of the bin as I watched Chelease lift the top off a box of black heels and toss them on the floor. She flopped into a chair and started yanking the pantyhose up her right leg.

“Entitled dicks.” A grunt as the nylons caught on the edge of her heel. I'd hardly call Tyce entitled even now, but he was an asshole. And he did have a bit of a god complex going on. Still, I wanted to defend him. Despite everything, I still wanted to stand up and be on his side. “Football players. Whatever. Same difference. They treat these athletes like they're literal gods and some of them really start believing it.”

The tears continued to roll down her face as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it and pulled out another chair, a hard steel gray seat with no cushion. It wasn't for lack of wanting; Chelease liked the look of them.

“Did something happen? I know we're not super close or anything yet, but whatever it is, I can help. I've been through some shit, too. If you need to unload, you can do it on me.”

“You don't want to hear about any of this shit,” she snapped, finally getting the spiderweb patterned pantyhose up to her mid thighs on both legs. Chelease stood up and started wiggling into them, flashing me some matching spider panties underneath her skirt. All the details taken care of to a T. “You have a date with a football player, so why would you want to hear me talk smack about one?”

I didn't bother to correct her and tell her that it wasn't a date, just a friend thing. We weren't going as a couple. Tyce just happened to mention that there was a party and asked what I was doing. Since I didn't have any plans or any reliable form of transportation, he offered to take me with him. But Chelease was clearly hurting, and she didn't need to hear any of that crap.

“You can say whatever you want,” I told her honestly. “I won't judge, and I won't get upset.”

“Are you going to that party tonight?” she asked, her voice going scarily quiet. When she looked up at me, there was a glint of fear in her eyes. “At Mason's?” I nodded slowly and she pursed her lips so tight the skin on either side of her mouth wrinkled. “Be careful, okay? Keep a hand over your drink at all times.”

A chill flickered down my spine as Chelease stood up and twisted her sea of long braids into a messy bun. I didn't like where this was going. Apparently neither did Chelease because she swiped her thumbs under her eyes and flicked away the tears. Her mascara didn't even run.

A second later, my phone buzzed in time with a knock on the door.

It was Tyce.

“Chelease,” I started again, but she was already moving down the hallway, witch hat in hand. Clearly this conversation was over, but I wasn't going to forget it. Later, when she was ready, we'd talk. I'd make sure of it.

“You're early,” Teagan said when she pulled open the door and pretended not to notice my outfit. It damn near killed me to see her turned on, see her cheeks go red and her breathing start to pick up. It made me wonder what she'd look like if I rode her all night, pushed her wrists into the mattress and stared into her eyes while I fucked her. I didn't let myself think about the park. If she didn't need to talk about it, I was done thinking about it. Period.

“Kai decided he wanted to come over here to pick you up. Original plan was to leave him at Mason's and then come and get you with his car.”

“He's downstairs?” Teagan asked, still standing in the doorway, not letting me in. It felt like maybe she didn't want to let me in. I didn't blame her. I was scared to be alone in a room with her, to be so close to a bed. Clearly, a cold, dark public park was little discouragement so how would all of that go down?

I shrugged.

“Don't worry about him. He's busy sexting his girlfriend of the week.”

Shit.

Teagan's jaw clenched tight, and she stepped suddenly out of the way, like it was now of immediate importance for her to prove she could do this. I moved into the apartment and noticed her roommate's clothes on the floor by the table just before I heard her moving around in her bedroom. I guess that was supposed to be our deterrent. Not that I needed one. Fuck no. I had this all under control. If I couldn't stop thinking about Teagan, but I couldn't have her, then I'd befriend her again.

Simple solution to a complicated problem.

Until your idiot ass just reminded you both about that night with the pictures and the videos. We were basically cyber fucking.

“I have to finish up my costume and do my makeup,” Teagan said, glancing down the hall at her bedroom door. Maybe she wasn't even going to invite me in there at all? I mean, it wasn't like I hadn't seen it. That night I'd jumped the balcony, I'd been in there. It wasn't her though, too sterile. But for whatever reason, it was really important to me that she take me back there, that we both played this game where we were platonic as hell together. “Do you want me to do yours, too?”

I wrinkled my nose as she walked in the kitchen and snatched a black trash bag from under the sink and then grabbed a plastic bin off the table and hefted it under one arm.

“I'm not sure if I'm ready to rock anymore pink lipstick. That one time in Jackie's was more than enough for me.”

“Don't be a smart-ass,” Teagan said, reaching down and wrapping her hand around mine. Shock wave. Hot and fierce it rippled from my fingertips straight into my chest and then immediately ricocheted down to my dick. Teagan's shoulders stiffened, but she kept walking, pulling me down the hallway and into her bedroom.

When she released my hand, I went to close the door.

“Stop,” she blurted and then, more calmly, “leave it open, please.”

I watched her tuck some red hair behind her ear as cracked open the lid to the bin and pulled out some plastic bottles of paint.

“What are you doing?” I asked as she pushed some clothes to the side, ripped the garbage bag in half and then covered her comforter. I was still holding a bottle of bourbon in my left hand, all of my attention riveted onto Teagan. Perfect reason why friendship is all we can have. Watching her move into the hallway and come back with a jar full of paintbrushes, I was fascinated. Entranced. If she were my girlfriend … I'd never make it to practice. I'd be in bed with her every damn day.

“Finishing my costume,” she said, dipping a brush into some blue paint and then splattering it across a white lacy nothing that was lying on top of the garbage bag. Splashes of color hit the beige wall on the other side, but she didn't seem fazed by that. There's my Teagan, I thought with a horrible thrill, remembering that time we broke into a train car and ate six packages of Oreos before the workers found us there and chased us off.

Back home, in Venus' place, Teagan's room was a mirage of color and shape and sound. There were wind chimes hanging from the ceiling, an ugly mural of a cat she'd painted when she was eight, a collage of magazine photos around the single window by her bed.

My heart contracted painfully and I lifted the bourbon up, twisting off the cap and tossing back a drink before I handed it over to her.

“Chelease is going to kill me if she sees this,” Teagan told me, taking a drink and passing it back. She didn't stop painting, smearing the dress with blue, purple, silver, gold, pale green. I had no clue what she was doing, but it was fascinating. “Okay,” she declared after the wall looked like a solar system behind her bed. “Good enough. Now sit down.”

“You're not really going to put any makeup on me, are you?” I asked as Teagan rubbed the paint on her hands off on her ripped up blue jeans. Jesus. The curve of her body as she bent over, the way her hair fell around her face as she stood back up and looked straight at me.

“Take a seat, Mr. Winship,” she said as she pulled out a high backed chair and gestured for me to sit in it. “Rock stars might not wear much in the way of clothing, but even the boys need a good makeup artist.”

“The guys are going to freak,” I joked, but I didn't really didn't give a fuck. Kai was sitting in the car dressed as Thor, with a foam hammer at his side. Like he had any room to talk. “But the girls will probably go nuts.” I was trying to lighten the mood, let Teagan know that she was off the hook, that I wasn't looking at her like that anymore. Only … I seriously fucking was, and all my comment did was make her purse her lips at me. “Maybe you can put a pic of me on your Instagram?” I said as she came around the chair and picked up a black pencil.

“Oh, big shot, huh? You think my three thousand and two followers care about some washed-up old quarterback?”

“Ouch,” I started, a smile taking over my mouth as I enjoyed the banter between us. See, so much better already. No more fighting. But then Teagan stepped between my open knees, putting her body up close and personal with my crotch. My breath hissed out as she leaned down and closed my eyes with her fingers.

My nails dug into the fabric of the chair as I struggled with a surge of hormones and a painfully hard cock.

“Didn't you see the game on Saturday? I made seven touchdown passes, all while wearing pink and celebrating tits. Pretty fucking impressive if I do say so myself. That's almost a record right there.” I couldn't see Teagan anymore, but I could feel her. The firm, guided touch of her pencil along the edge of my eye, the heat from her body radiating through my thighs on either side of her. My bare chest felt the soft brush of something, her shirt, her breasts, her hair, I didn't know, but I almost groaned low in my throat.

Torture.

This was fucking torture. And this whole friends thing was your idea, Winship. Dumbass.

“Well then, if you don't mind, I'd like to piggyback on your local fame to grab some more followers. You never know, if I become an Instagram sensation maybe I could ditch the whole computer sciences degree and be a makeup artist for real rock stars.” I heard the smile in her words as she moved over to my other eye.

“Computer sciences, huh? You've always hated computers. Last I heard, you were still writing your essays out in cursive.”

“Only because mom couldn't afford a computer,” Teagan said and then, “open up.”

I flicked my lids open and found her right there, inches away from my face. If I leaned forward, our lips would meet. If I put my hand on the back of her neck, I could hold her there and slide my tongue into her mouth until she melted into me. I could pick her up and lay her out on top of her paint splattered bed and fuck her until the sun came up outside.

What the hell, Winship?

My phone vibrated, and I dragged it out of my pocket. It was Kai.

'How long?'

'When we're damn good and ready,' I sent back and got a pic of him flipping me off in return.

“Is your friend getting pissed?” Teagan asked as she switched our her pencil for some gray colored powder. “Eyes closed again.”

“He can wait,” I told her, and I meant it. This was our moment here; I wasn't rushing it. I refused. “The party doesn't even start for another hour, he just wants to get there so he can start hitting on girls before the other guys show up.”

Teagan made a grunting sound of acknowledgement in her throat, fluttering a brush across my closed lids. The gentle touch of it was infuriating, like I could feel her, but only a drop. I wanted to get soaking wet. Only that's not going to happen, dumb shit. Why'd you even invite her to this party anyway? Are you going to pick up another girl with Teagan around? That's fucking cruel.

I guessed I'd be spending the night alone again, just like I had for the last two weeks and six days. Yeah, I was counting, too. Playing around with a few different girls seemed like a good way to get Teagan off my mind, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, imagining her face afterwards, the blood on my dick, the way her eyes glimmered with tears she refused to shed.

Whatever.

I wasn't an animal; I could wait a little longer.

Besides, I still had those pictures of her—and I was using them every night. Sometimes during the day, too. Sometimes multiple times during the day.

“Eyes open,” she said again, going through a half dozen other colors and flavors of makeup that I knew nothing about, until she was done. When I finally looked in the mirror, it was a shock. I really did look a rock star instead of a guy in jeans and boots.

“I look like Andy Biersack from Black Veil Brides.”

“Oh, stop it,” Teagan said, grabbing her phone and taking a step back from me.

“No, I mean, I like it,” I told her, examining the dark liner around my eyes, the black and gray shadows on my lids. It was a new look for me, but I looked hot. Seriously. Teagan was fucking talented.

“Now hold still and give me a stupid selfie face,” she said, snapping a few quick pics and then giving the camera to me. I held it up proudly and gave her some ridiculous poses. “Thank you,” she said, smiling for real this time. “Now I finally have a model other than me for my portfolio.”

“If you want to get famous, you don't need any model other than you,” I said, my voice dropping seductively. It was a fucking accident, but once it was out there, it was out there. I cleared my throat and stood up, grabbing the bottle of bourbon. “I'll make myself scarce so you can change.”

“Sure, thanks,” Teagan said as I moved into the hallway and took several, long swigs of bourbon. It tasted like caramel apples and brown sugar, a hint of fall at the back of my tongue. It was good. It made my head feel a little lighter, my muscles a little looser, but it did nothing to make my hard-on go away. Heh.

'Almost ready,' I texted down to Kai as I leaned against the wall and waited. After a few minutes, Teagan opened her door up. I felt my fist squeeze around the neck of the bottle, the bright red ink of my tattoo rippling as my knuckles got tight. She was swathed in the thin white silk dress with lace at the neck and along the bottom, a blue corset wrapped around her slender waist, putting her breasts on full glorious display. The paint splatters looked less random now, like she'd known exactly how the fabric would fall on her body and painted a world of color to match.

“What are you supposed to be?” I choked out with a smile as she sat down at her desk and started her own makeup. I parked the bourbon next to her and waited while she took another drink.

“The galaxy,” Teagan said, making my heartbeat speed up in fits and bursts. I wanted to kiss the pale curve of her neck, not a spot I usually checked out on girls. “I am the entire galaxy.”

Mason Fenna was a stupid prick, but he had a really nice house on Summit Sky Boulevard with a bunch of other rich people. Technically, he lived in the dorms with our defensive tackle, Kirk Godbersen. But since his parents were always gone, and nobody gave a flying shit what any of us did as long as we played our best and attended the games, he mostly just lived here. In a fucking mansion. In a house that was about as nice as my ex-foster mom's.

I wasn't exactly sure about the comparison since she literally made me sleep in the shed on an old cot.

“Oh my God,” Teagan whispered, her breath too close to my ear as she leaned forward and put her hand on the edge of my seat. I felt my body go rock hard, from my calf muscles all the way up to my pecs. They tightened up and they just wouldn't let go. Kai noticed and rolled his eyes, but at least he was smart enough not to fucking say anything. “Somebody actually lives here? It looks like a … bed and breakfast or something.”

I turned around to look at her, wishing I'd had the courage to sit next to her in the backseat. I'd offered her the front, but she'd adamantly refused and climbed in back. I'd already screwed up several times tonight, so I forced my aching body into the front and continued drinking bourbon.

“Mason Fenna,” I said, wondering if she knew him, met him at the club or something. Teagan and I were in a weird place, friends for years, intimately acquainted and yet … strangers. Freaking strangers. It suddenly bugged me that I didn't know her favorite color. I probably would've asked if Kai had been anywhere but sitting next to me, absorbing every single syllable that fell out of my mouth. “He pretty much lives here by himself.”

“And hosts the best fucking parties,” Kai said as he pulled around the circular driveway and parked near the front door. We were never getting out of here. Once the other partygoers rolled in, this whole cement circle and the lawns around it would be covered in cars.

I studied Teagan's face, the makeup she'd applied that was still blowing my mind. Her lashes were long and dark and curled against her forehead, her upper lids lined with black and topped with a slash of silvery white. Trailing down both cheeks, like tears made of stars and supernovas, wicked cool bursts of black, purple, blue, pink, silver, and gold twisted and tumbled, framing her purple painted lips. Across that full mouth, she'd carefully crafted silver stars in minute detail. I couldn't stop staring.

A galaxy.

Kai was Thor, I was a rock star, and Teagan … was a galaxy.

I flipped back around and took off my seatbelt. If I kept staring at her like that, I might find myself stuck, unable to look away. I started to panic there for a minute, thinking about how I could lose her at the party, what girls I could introduce her to that would keep her chatting all night. I definitely didn't think about introducing her to any of the guys.

I took another swig of bourbon and then opened the car door, glancing up at Mason's perfect fairytale mansion. God, I hate this guy. Mason's dad was a U of O alumni and a QB for the Baltimore Ravens back in the day, and the success of that career showed. The exterior of the house was all columns and spiral towers and shit, and I knew from past experience that this house was almost as cushy as the performance center. There was a Ducks themed game room with a wet bar, pool tables, several flat screens, and a staircase that led down to an in-home theater.

I hated Mason Fenna, sure, but at least I could walk into his fancy house and know that I was a better player than him, that one day, I'd have a career that made his father look like a fourth string newbie. One day, I'd have a house like this.

And that's exactly why I need to stay away from Teagan Fletcher.

“What are you waiting for, douche? Admiring the architecture? Let's go.” I dropped my gaze and found Teagan waiting for me next to Kai as he smirked and made dirty hand gestures behind her head. I'm going to fucking kill him. “Grab your girl's hand and let's go introduce ourselves.”

Kai took off, his stupid foam hammer clutched in his fingers, and sprinted off like a pussy seeking missile. I had no idea why I even liked him, honestly. Maybe it was some natural selection thing that came from living together. Like, enjoy him or murder him in his sleep.

“Just ignore him,” I told Teagan, trying not to notice the way her nipples hardened when I stepped closer, drew my attention back down to the full, ripe roundness of her breasts. Is she even wearing a bra under that? I wasn't sure if I wanted that to be a yes or a no. “He's a complete pig. Most of them are. In fact, I'll point out all my teammates so you know which guys not to dance with.”

Teagan smiled at me with her purple-star lips, but it wasn't a full smile.

“Thanks for inviting me,” she said as I held up an arm and she hooked hers through it. We fit nicely together. Crap. “If you hadn't, Melia probably would've dragged me to some pot dealer's place to smoke weed and watch black and white horror movies.”

“Doesn't sound so bad,” I said as I led her inside the grand foyer with its shiny marble floors and curling white staircase.

“I guess not,” she said as I tried to remember which way to the bar. Luckily I noticed that Mason had put up signs this time, pieces of printer paper splattered with 'blood'. This way to a gruesome death, one of them said. I pulled Teagan in that direction. “But I'd rather be here with you.”

I gritted my teeth at that and resisted the urge to pull my arm away from hers.

Platonic. As. Fuck.

“Hey Mason,” I said as we entered the game room through a set of open barn doors, the fancy kind that are hand carved by artisan fairies or something, not actual repurposed barn wood. Of course not.

“Hey bro!” Mason said, shaking a silver mixer and pouring something for the three girls sitting at the bar in front of him. They were all on the Ducks cheerleading squad. I thought I might've slept with one—or all of them. Suddenly, my forehead was covered in sweat, beads of moisture dripping down my spine, across my belly. I didn't want Teagan to meet them, talk to them. I didn't want any drama to hit her while she was here.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” I asked as I stepped up and pointed out Mason's shirtless chest. “Did you steal my fucking outfit?”

He laughed, that raucously annoying laugh of his, like a donkey taking a shit. But his teeth were white and shiny, and his smile was magnanimous, and the girls at the bar all gave him coquettish appraisals.

“I'm Magic Mike,” he said stupidly, making me think he'd never actually seen the movie, probably just pulled pictures off of Google. He had a tie around his neck and low slung black pants. That was pretty much it. Not that I'd seen the movie either, but whatever. I have a whole galaxy on my arm … which of course Mason noticed immediately. “Oh, and who is your friend?”

“This is Teagan Fletcher,” I said as she smiled and held out a hand to shake with Mason. Seeing their fingers slide together made me feel sick. “We're old friends.”

“We grew up together,” she explained as Mason gave her slim fitting white dress a very appreciative once-over.

“Lucky you,” Mason said to me, his dark eyes sparkling like oil as he went back to making drinks. “Well, Teagan Fletcher, make yourself comfortable, okay? We're gonna have a dope ass time tonight.” I glanced over at Teagan, tried to see if her eyes searched Mason's half-naked body the same way they'd done mine. I clenched my fists at my sides in victory when she immediately looked away from him and studied the room, from the green transom window above the doorway that said Webfoots to the framed Ducks jerseys on the wall. She seemed more enamored with the vaulted ceilings than she did with Mason.

“So, Tyce, how come you haven't been at any of the good parties this month?” one of the girls said, flicking one of her long, blonde braids over her shoulder. She was dressed as a 'sexy Dorothy' from The Wizard of Oz. Looking at her now, I was pretty sure she was the one I'd hooked up with. I tried not to look at Teagan. “Got yourself a girlfriend or something?”

“Not really,” I said, still not looking at Teagan, putting my fingertips in my front pockets and wishing more people would show up so it could be more than just the six of us up here. Kai was nowhere in sight. I figured he was probably at the pool, scoping any early birds in their bikinis.

“Then we should dance tonight.” Dorothy looked at Teagan and smiled. It wasn't a mean smile, but there was definitely a challenge in it. “If your card isn't already full that is.”

I looked over and saw Teagan's face shut down, go blank and empty for a full minute before she made herself smile, lifting her hand up to cheek the elaborate twist she'd made of her red hair. After she'd put it in a fancy bun, she'd splattered paint across her forehead and over her hair to match her dress. I wanted to touch it so bad my fingertips ached like they'd been burned.

“Sure thing,” I said, but I was already getting ready to change the subject. “Where are all the Halloween decorations? I saw maybe one skull sitting in the entryway?”

“Who cares about decorations when we've got pool and booze and weed?” Mason asked, giving Teagan a goofy good ol' boy half-smile that made me want to choke him. Second string motherfucker, I thought as I looked him over and tried to accept the fact that he'd probably be the Ducks star player next year. At least I'd be making big bucks in some other town, far, far away.

Far away from Teagan Fletcher.

It was fucking awesome that we'd decided not to let this thing between us go any further. In the end, it would only hurt her. I told myself I was protesting just enough. The football player doth protest too much, methinks. Fucking English lit. Fucking Hamlet.

“Should I get some music started?” I asked as I tried to remember where the panel was for the surround sound. Mason shrugged, pouring another drink and passing it over to Teagan with a sultry smile. When she reached out to take it from his hand, he leaned in and whispered something in her ear.

I felt the hair on the back of my neck go up.

Fuck.

“Stereo's over there,” Mason said, standing up and lifting his chin in the direction of the green wall behind me. “Just slide back the door and plug in a playlist.”

“Got it,” I snapped, moving away and wishing Teagan would follow after me. She didn't. In fact, she scooted onto a stool and started up a conversation with a 'sexy zombie' in a midriff top and blood splattered heels. I watched her for a long time, so long that Mason ended up glancing up and catching me.

The smirk that curved his lips made me uneasy.

This friendship thing was going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought.

Booze flowed like water, turning the placid lake in the game room into raging rapids. People screamed and jumped, threw their bodies into some serious bumping and grinding, and passed joints and beers around like candy.

Most of the team was there, dressed as Batman, as some dude from Game of Thrones, like Ryan Reynolds in Deadpool. They melted into the sea of sexy everything—sexy maids, sexy cats, sexy superheroes, sexy pirates—and highlighted the few interesting and original concepts in the room.

Teagan was one of them.

Her figure was cut, curvy but firm with muscles, toned yet still soft. It was so obvious in that outfit of hers that she was every man's dream, a collage of color and lace that made my head hurt when I looked at her for too long. And the way she danced … all of that practiced perfectionism she'd been playing at slipped away and went out the door. I saw the girl who painted anarchy symbols on stop signs and stole spray paint from the Stop 'n' Rob shop on the corner. Teagan moved like there was no tomorrow, like I hadn't walked away and fucked her over, like I hadn't stolen her virginity like a thief in the night.

I stood on the sidelines for a while and got myself trashed. Nothing was working. Fucking her made me crazy. Ignoring her made me crazier. Being friends with her made me craziest.

“Goddamn it,” I snarled into my beer, tipping it back and tossing it into a plastic garbage can already half full of bottles. Mason was standing there, of course. And Kai was close by, both of them shooting sidelong glances at me.

“You talking to yourself now, Winship?” Mason shouted over the music. It was an eclectic mix, everyone adding a song or two to the playlist when they arrived. Right now, Fall Out Boy's “My Songs Know What You Did In the Dark” was on. Teagan bounced with the chorus and swiveled her hips around, moving with the crowd. At least she wasn't actually dancing with anyone in particular. Instead, a crowd had formed around her, started by a friend of hers dressed in a Ducks cheerleading uniform, and expanding until several of the guys had joined in.

They were all gunning to fuck her. I knew that. I knew them.

I wanted to punch them all in the face and tell them to back off.

“I'm just … whatever,” I said as I grabbed another beer from a cooler on the floor and started drinking. There were kegs, too, but I liked the cool feel of the glass in my sweaty hand. “Don't you have girls to piss off and chase after?” I asked, and Mason and Kai both laughed at me.

“Your friend, Teagan,” Mason began, and I swear to God, he knew. Somehow he knew that getting with her would kill me. If I let him know that fucking her or worse—dating her—would be a win for him, he'd do it. He'd make it his life mission. “Are you guys a thing or something? You keep staring at her, and your dick looks like it's permanently stuck pointing north.”

I cupped my junk with one hand and took another drink of beer with the other.

“Teagan's alright,” I said with a shrug, giving Kai a look that said I'd kill him if he talked in front of Mason. He stared back at me with his ice blue eyes and waved his hammer in the air around his head.

“She's gay, I think,” Kai told Mason with a shrug of his broad shoulders. “I picked her up at New Intentions a few weeks back and she totally wasn't into hooking up.”

“Maybe it was just you?” Mason oozed, his eyes locked onto Teagan's swiveling form. Sexy lips, dirty hips, breasts to make a god cry, why are you doing this to me, Tea? Why are you here? Why did you come to Eugene?

Things were so much easier when I was sure we'd never see each other again.

“I'm gonna go dance,” I said, shoving my way into the crowd and working my way towards Teagan. Her cheerleading friend intercepted me and grabbed my hand, leaning over to yell in my ear.

“Hi, I'm Melia, Teagan's friend.” I nodded, but she wouldn't let go of my hand. “Hotline Bling” by Drake started up as she pulled me closer to her. “Dance with me?” she asked as I looked up and found Mason squeezing through the crowd and sliding in next to Teagan.

That fucking parasite.

Fireworks went off in my head, violent red streaks of anger that made me want to scream.

Instead, I nodded and pulled the girl close, easing into the loose grinding rhythm of the crowd. Over Melia's shoulder, I could see Teagan taking Mason's hand and stepping close, his body sneaking close enough to put her between his legs.

When her eyes flicked up and found mine, something weird passed between us.

She didn't want me dancing with Melia; I didn't want her dancing with Mason.

We were both going to keep doing it—and we were going to pretend it was okay.

And I had to wonder how much of this was my fault.

Tyce and I went running in the park everyday that week, but we didn't talk much. Mostly he'd text me one or two word questions like 'park?' or 'you game?' and then I'd send him a time. He'd text me again when he was downstairs, and I'd head out, purposefully hiding his presence from Chelease. After our Halloween talk, she'd gone completely dark, could barely even look at me.

Today was Friday, the day before yet another game and Tyce was gone, in California to play the USC Trojans at the LA Memorial Coliseum. I missed him already.

“Teagan,” Melia said, leaning over and kicking me in the shin. When I looked up, I noticed most of our technical writing class was already gone and the next group of students was shuffling in. Oops. “You want to head back to my place and work on the paper together? I seriously have no clue what I'm doing.”

I wanted to tell her that was because she skipped class to smoke pot all the time, but I knew I was being a petty bitch. I just couldn't shake the image of her up close and personal with Tyce at the party. I mean, she'd had a crush on him for a long time, but now she knew what'd happened between us. Shouldn't that have made him off-limits? Wasn't there some girl code thing about not screwing guys that your friends lost their V cards to?

“I can't. I promised Chelease we'd have dinner together.” That was a complete lie, but I didn't know how else to get out of this without hurting Melia's feelings. I might've been stupid jealous about the dancing, but I suppose I had no right to be. I'd danced on and off with Mason Fenna, even spent some time with Kai and some guy named Kirk. At the end of the night, Mason had been moving in hardcore, trying to get me to stay the night, but Tyce had swooped in and acted like an asshole, commandeering Kai's car to drive me home.

I wasn't sure if I was ready to hook up with anybody yet, but that didn't mean I needed him looking over my shoulder like that. He was worried about his friends taking advantage of me, yet hadn't he already done just that?

“Aw, bummer,” Melia said, drumming her hands on the desk in front of her and then standing up and grabbing her laptop bag. She squeezed my shoulder affectionately and smiled. “But you'll be over tomorrow to watch the game, right?”

“Eh,” I started, but Melia was already shaking her head at me. She put her palms flat on the desk and leaned over, her pink hibiscus earrings swinging with the motion.

“Nope. You've been avoiding me all week. Is this because of Tyce?”

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair and stuffed my laptop back in my bag before reaching up to fix my ponytail. I was still picking flecks of paint from my hair despite several washings. This time I came away with some purple.

“I'm not avoiding you,” I said as I slung my bag over my shoulder and started towards the door. Melia followed after me, her loose, flowing halter dress drifting around her ankles. It was sixty degrees and raining outside, but she was wearing sandals and an anklet made of shells. “Why would you think that?”

“I just wanted to dance with Tyce to say I'd done it,” she told me with a half-smile. “I'm not about to pick your cherry popper off the tree.”

“That's gross,” I told her as we moved down the hall towards the door. “And honestly, we're not together. If you want to pursue him, go for it.” Wow, that felt weird. I was saying the words and they were technically true, but I didn't mean them at all. If I found out Melia and Tyce had slept together, I'd never be able to look at her the same way again. It was cruel, but true. I hated feeling like that.

“Um, okay,” Melia said, her dark brows knitting together before she shook her head and made some decision based on my facial expression. Apparently that decision was it's not worth it, so she moved on. “But you have to come to the game tomorrow. Please? We missed you last week. Risika won't stop mentioning that time you promised to teach her how to contour.”

I felt a small smile curl my lips.

“So … is that a yes?”

I thought about my reasons for not going over there, hanging out, making friends. They all had to do with Tyce. Jesus. If he was still ruling my life, then something was wrong. He wasn't here, twisting my arm and making me say no. That meant this was all on me.

“Okay,” I said and Melia squealed, leaning over to give me a cannabis scented kiss on the cheek.

“I'll text you later,” she promised and then disappeared into the women's bathroom.

I kept going, outside into the rain and straight to the bus stop.

'What are you up to tonight?'

I stared at the text from Tyce and tried to imagine what he was doing. I hoped sleeping was next on his to-do list because it was getting late, and he had a game tomorrow. I was nervous about watching him. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like the cameras or the commentators spent their entire time talking about Tyce. But when they did, when they zoomed in on him, shouted his name in excitement, replayed some gravity defying pass or track worthy spring, I felt my heart skip a little. I felt proud.

I felt like he was mine.

'Wondering why you aren't asleep yet,' I shot back as he sent a Snap from his phone. It was a picture of his bare feet and muscular legs, his right leg popped up at the knee, showing off the sexy tanned curve of one calf. The banner across the middle of the picture said sleep before the big game—totally happening with some clouds and rainbow stickers all over the edges. It was so random and weird that I burst out laughing, enjoying being alone in the apartment for once. I had no idea where Chelease was, but I was glad she was having a night out. That rarely happened.

'Seriously, go to bed,' I texted back, turning on my side and trying my best not to think about our sexting session. It was so hot. I wanted it to happen again—badly. Lying there in the dark with my body starting to throb, I almost sent him a dirty picture. Instead, I scrolled back through our conversation and stared at the video of him jerking off. I pressed play and watched it through, my breath picking up and my thighs clenching as I stared at his tattooed hand wrapped around his cock.

Damn it.

I wished he'd have sent me the pics via Snapchat, so they'd be gone by now. Vanished. Erased. Poof. Instead, I was sitting here staring at something I could never have. Not that I was even sure I wanted him. He clearly didn't want a relationship, but I couldn't stop thinking about our conversation at the coffee shop.

“If I'd stayed, we would've gotten married and had kids and lived in a shitty trailer by the cemetery.”

That particular sentence was still playing on repeat in my head. It was an admission from Tyce that he felt something between us, something other than this new physical attraction he felt for me. It was proof that even before he'd left, he'd loved me in his own way.

I sighed.

Pointless path. A hallway with no end. That's what those thoughts were.

'Let's talk about something random,' Tyce sent. 'Something that's so boring, I'll have no choice but to fall asleep.'

I smiled, my phone tucked in my hands. I felt braver at night like this, in the dark, without his handsome face staring back at me, those blue-gold eyes boring into my soul. I didn't have to stare at his lush lower lip and wish I was nibbling on it. And … that man seriously hated wearing shirts. Most of the time we went running, he was going without. I thought he did it on purpose. Either for my attention or for the numerous women that inevitably got caught in his orbit.

'Okay,' I said. 'I've got a classic: what's your major?'

I got a big LMFAO in response and a stupid emoji of a smiling cactus.

'Journalism, just in case I break my leg or something. And you're computer sciences? We're both boring.'

'Boring? Just me. You're Mr. NFL. You'll be making like seven figures or something, won't you?'

'Eight,' he texted back and then sent a smiley face with its tongue sticking out. 'Or nine. Kidding. Maybe. Weird to think about, right? I feel like being poor is in my fucking blood.'

'Never forget where you came from,' I sent back, the ache between my legs dulling a little with our new conversation. It was sobering to think about, Tyce leaving again, turning into a real celebrity with millions in the bank and the world at his fingertips. He'd made a good choice, I realized as I stared at the words on the screen. He'd done right by himself by leaving Quaker Park. Disappearing on me and my mom was like the best thing that'd ever happened to him.

My chest got tight, and I suddenly felt like a bitch for ever being mad at him.

So he'd made Venus cry, so I'd pined after him with a fragile fourteen year old heart. Big deal. Tyce was beating the cycle of poverty, living the dream. He was doing what he loved most and getting paid for it.

I felt so sick that I actually got up, left my phone on the bed and went into the kitchen to grab a drink. I settled on a glass of orange juice and took it back in the room with me, staring at the facedown cellphone with a sense of dread building up inside of me.

I still kind of hated Tyce for what he'd done to me and my mom, but I understood it. Me. I was a problem for him, a distraction. I both loved and hated that.

When the phone buzzed again, I picked it up.

'Never,' he texted back and then, 'I fucking miss Venus a lot.'

I swallowed a lump in my throat, let my thumb say, 'me, too.'

'When I get rich, I'll send you some money. You'll never have to worry about a thing. I want to do that for you.'

What the hell, Tyce? I wondered as I stared at his message and sipped my juice. It was starting to taste like ash again. Great. My emotions were like a bundle of tangled string. I just wanted to grab some scissors and start cutting pieces off.

'Part of me wondered if you'd come here,' he sent next and I furrowed my brow.

'What?'

'Here, to Eugene. I knew you'd find me. I wondered if you'd come. That's why I decided to play another year for the Ducks.'

Umm.

I had no idea how to respond to that.

'You're not drunk again are you?' I texted back as I finished my juice and then took the glass back in the kitchen, just so I had an excuse to pace around the apartment. Everything was dark and basked in shadow from the hallway nightlight. It made me feel weirdly alone, like I needed to get out of here. But it was like two in the morning. There was nowhere I wanted to go.

'Nope.'

'Then I'm not sure why you're saying these things. It's weird.'

'I guess. I just wanted you to know that I'm not a heartless prick. I like you, Teagan. I just want you to know that you deserve better than playing second place to football. You shouldn't have to be number two.'

I blinked back at the screen and then plopped down heavy on the couch. What. The. Hell.

'You deserve to be somebody's number one,' he continued, sending the texts in short little bursts. 'I want you to find somebody that can make you their everything.'

I think Tyce was trying to be comforting, but I felt even sicker than before.

'Somebody that doesn't run off because he's scared.'

And then, 'Teagan, you there?'

'I'm here,' I shot back, not sure what else I should say. 'Can we talk about majors again?'

There was a long pause before Tyce responded.

'Tell me about your classes,' he said, and I just started typing a bunch of nonsense. How Risika liked to wear different color shoes on each feet, how Melia's brother, Loe, had just proposed to his girlfriend, how I hated my discrete mathematics class. I sent him anything and everything I could think of, just to shut him up. If he kept sending me weird messages, I'd break into pieces and I wouldn't know how to put myself back together.

After a while, Tyce stopped texting me back and I knew he'd fallen asleep.

It took about four hours for me to do the same.

I showed up at Melia's place with bags under my eyes and absolutely zero makeup on my face. Not my usual look, but I was too tired to bother with it. I had such terrible insomnia last night, reading and rereading Tyce's texts as I tried to figure out how to feel about them. About him. Four years of resentment and disappointment twisted up with anger and frustration at being used, and then, even more surprising, empathy and understanding.

I had no clue what I was doing.

I missed the kickoff and walked in to see a replay flashing on the screen with Tyce front and center, the commentators screaming in the background.

“… gonna snap it directly to Ballard. Now he looks to throw downfield. There's Winship. Ten … five … end zone! Touchdown, DUCKS! Ballard to Winship, forty yards for the score.” I stared at the screen as Tyce caught the ball and ran it down the field. While everybody else was admiring his athletic prowess, I was checking out his ass in the emerald green pants he was wearing. My heart thumped and throbbed at the sight of him on ESPN, and I couldn't decide if I was proud of him or if it was just … weird. My childhood friend, the guy I'd fucked in the park, sexted with … on TV.

“Sit, sit, sit,” Melia said, scooting off her beanbag chair and offering it to me. The rest of the living room was taken up with the usual suspects: Melia's brother Loe and his girlfriend-turned-fiancée Thina, Mee, Dane, Alton, Nyle, Vienna, and Risika. I now had a face to put to each name, too. I was starting to get the hang of this group. They were chill and easy going, fun to hang out with, simple to get along with.

What wasn't simple was how choked up I got watching Tyce in his uniform. He looked criminally good in it. I want him to fuck me in it, I thought and then swallowed hard as I plopped into a beanbag chair.

“Your boy is killing it today,” Risika said as she leaned back and let Alton play with her blonde dreads. I think they were sleeping together, but I wasn't sure. Melia had tried to set me up with the dark haired boy last week, claiming a revenge fuck was what I needed to get over Tyce, but it just wasn't happening. Sex and dating changed relationships, blurred the lines, made things, well, weird. I wasn't going there with any of these people.

“He's not my boy,” I said as I reached down and grabbed a frozen burrito, still stuck to the tray it was cooked on and sitting on the floor. They weren't big about utensils around here. “But thanks anyway.” I started stuffing my face with any snack I could get my hands on, watching the game with a dark filter over my brain.

You deserve to be somebody's number one.

Why did he have to say that? I knew he was right; I did deserve that. But his statement also made me wonder, if I was willing to be second, if I was okay with that, could I have him?

I don't want him, I told myself, but that, that was a lie.

Before I realized what she was doing, Melia had my phone out of my purse and in her hand.

“I want to see that pic you took of me at the party,” she explained absently as I stared like a zombie at her flat screen and watched Kai jump on Tyce in a congratulatory man hug. Huh.

“Sure,” I said and then my eyes snapped open and I lunged for the phone. But it was too late. Melia was watching Tyce's sex video. Her hand clamped over her mouth as I tore the cell from her fingers and tried to shut it off before Tyce could speak.

Too late.

“That was all for you. Because I can't stop thinking about you, Teagan.”

Melia screamed against her hand as Risika leaned over and tried to see what all the commotion was about. I shoved my phone back in my purse and stood up suddenly, skin flushing hot from head to toe. Once again, the cameras were focused on Tyce and his Football God Glory.

“Teagan,” Melia whispered as she dropped her hand to her lap and everybody in the room turned to look at me. “You naughty girl.”

“I should probably go,” I said, but I wasn't getting out of there that easy. I leveled a look on Melia that said shut the fuck up, but she just continued to gape up at me.

“He's so in love with you,” she said randomly, confusing the hell out of me. How she got that from a video of Tyce jerking off, I wasn't sure. I glanced over my shoulder and found that I was still the focus of the group's attention, despite the fact that the guy on the TV was screeching again, something about Winship and eighty-seven yards and holy hell isn't he just perfect.

“What's going on?” Alton asked, still touching Risika's neck, rubbing his thumbs along her shoulders. That casual touching, I saw that and suddenly, I just wanted it. I wanted someone to touch me and kiss me and hold me. No, no, I wanted Tyce to do all of those things. I wanted to feel his hands on my shoulders, his thumbs rubbing along the back of my neck and teasing my hair.

“How can you tell?” I asked Melia as she blinked up at me with her coconut brown eyes.

“It's in his voice,” she said and then shook her head, dark hair flying as she ran her hands down her face. “I can't even believe I just saw that. Tyce Winship's dick.”

“Tyce's … what?!” Risika yelled as she stood up off the couch, Alton's eyes following her all the way. She held out her hand and shook it. “I need to see this. Now.”

“Um, I think we all do,” Melia's friend, Mee, said. “I'm gay and I still need to look at this. What's going on? You're dating Winship? Number eight?”

“I'm not dating anybody,” I said, wondering if it was possible to melt into the floor right then and there. If there'd been a way to do it, to spontaneously combust or something, I would have. “And this is … it's not what it looks like.”

“He loves you,” Melia said again, still half in shock over finding the video, half wanting to relay her cosmic wisdom about love to me. I believed in it about as much as I believed in her ability to read auras. “Hear how his voice gets all husky in there?”

“I don't care,” I said. A lie. I did.

“And you love him, too, don't you?” Melia asked me as I stumbled back over to the beanbag chair and slumped down. If I tried to go for the door, she'd jump me. I knew it. I'd seen her do it to Risika before.

“I don't.” Another lie. A big one. Huge.

I'd loved Tyce Winship since I was four, since I was fourteen, since I literally tripped and fell on him in the park. But I also hated him. And I was confused. And I refused to allow myself to accept any of it because I couldn't have him. I felt like if I reached out and tried to grab him, he'd slip from my fingers and fly away forever. Being friends with him was easier than saying good-bye forever.

“I won't,” I repeated as I watched him throw the ball, his arm muscles bunching with the motion, making me feel tense and twisted inside. But won't is a hell of a lot different than don't, isn't it?

I would stop myself from pining after him, but it couldn't change what my heart already knew.

When it came to Tyce, I was a lost cause.

I wanted him, but I didn't. He wanted me, but he didn't.

We wanted each other, but we couldn't. Or wouldn't.

I couldn't figure out which.

TYCE: 'On my way home.'

ME: 'Awesome.'

TYCE: 'Go for a run tomorrow?'

ME: 'Nah, I think I hurt my ankle.'

TYCE: 'Seriously? When?'

ME: 'I twisted it running after you.' DELETE, DELETE, DELETE. 'I twisted it on the steps last night.'

TYCE: 'Damn. Okay.'

Pause.

TYCE: 'Are you doing anything on Saturday?'

ME: 'No, but you are. You're playing the Stanford Cardinals, right?'

TYCE: 'So that's a no then?'

ME: 'Nothing besides watching the game.'

TYCE: 'Perfect. Consider yourself booked. On Saturday, you're mine.'

“I want to tell you something, but you need to promise not to have a fit,” Teagan told me first thing Tuesday morning. I hadn't seen her in person in like a week, but we'd been texting and sending videos on Snapchat; I'd been liking all her Instagram photos of makeup and colors and leaves and puddles.

I was hooked.

“That's a fucked up thing to say to a person,” I replied, looking her up and down. She was wearing the paint splattered jeans and a gray wifebeater that was now a familiar sight for me. She needs new clothes, my brain spat at me, but what the hell was I supposed to do about it? Once I made it in the NFL, I'd buy her an entire wardrobe of whatever designer crap she wanted. But to do that, I had to finish the season here without screwing anything up.

I thought of Venus and how she'd always told me that it was Tea and me against the world, that I should look out for her, fight for her, take care of her. I'd ran away. I didn't even fucking deserve to be standing here right now. I wished for a second that I was smoker, so I'd have something to do with my hands.

Teagan just stared at me, her skin turning red with embarrassment. Whatever it was, she was freaking out inside. The more she freaked, the less she moved. Her body went completely still, her breathing stopped.

“Melia saw your sex tape.”

“My … what?” I asked, and then she bit her lower lip and made some kind of gesture around her crotch like she was jacking off. Then it clicked. “Oh.” My eyes got big and I found myself crossing my arms over my chest. “I thought you said you'd deleted that.”

“I said I was going to delete it,” she told me, dropping her hands by her sides and looking up at me from those willow green eyes. They were shaded in a barrage of red, orange and yellow up her lids, the edges of the eyeshadow sculpted to look like the leaves from an oak tree. She'd already posted the pic online, and I'd seen Mason Fenna retweet it. That motherfucker. “I didn't say that I had deleted it.”

I wanted to get pissed, but … I had no room to talk. Teagan's pictures were still on my phone, too. So I just looked down at her, at the leaves she'd pinned into her hair. I want to kiss her so bad right now, I thought as I studied the pale smoothness of her nose and cheeks. She'd covered her freckles up with makeup so skillfully that even looking for them, I couldn't tell they were there.

“Okay,” I said because I wasn't sure what else there was to say. I lifted my hand up and passed over a plastic grocery bag full of candy and other tooth rotting shit. It was a care package. Not a very good one, but I felt bad about her ankle. Mostly, I wanted a reason to come over here and see her. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Teagan moved away from the door, limping slightly as she headed to the couch and flopped down. “I'm really sorry about that. I knew I should've password protected my phone, but there's usually nobody around but me to look at it.” She cleared her throat as I came to sit next to her, our bodies less than a foot apart from one another. “Are you pissed?”

I shrugged my shoulder loosely, tapping the fingers of my right hand on the back of the couch.

I should tell her I had her pictures on my phone, too, but I wasn't sure how to bring it up without sounding like a creeper. There was only one reason a guy would keep naked pictures of a girl on his phone. And what exactly has she been doing with yours?

I pursed my lips a little against the rush of hormones in my blood.

The thought of Teagan touching herself to that video, it made me crazy inside.

We were friends, but I almost kissed her anyway, pushed her legs apart with my knee, filled her with my cock. She wanted me to do it, I knew. Her eyes took in my shoulders, the curve of my biceps, my chest, my abs, like she was desperate and drowning, like I was oxygen.

“No.” It was all I said. I could've told her more, told her the truth, but I just sat there and stared. “Has Mason been texting you?” He'd sure as hell been talking about Teagan in LA. I wanted to beat him up, but the second I did, he'd know. He'd know exactly how much I cared about her and he'd capitalize on that. I realized as I stared at Teagan that I was in a hell of my own making, but I didn't know how to make it stop.

Football.

Football came first. Success came first. And then, maybe … but no. Nope. Teagan and I were never going to happen. My brain kept asking why while my heart beat with a strange dissonance.

“Are you sharing because I'm starving?” I asked as I dug through the bag between us and pulled out a pair of matching Snickers. I handed one over to her, enjoying the relieved expression that flittered over her face. She really thought I was going to go apeshit again. Not that I blamed her. When I flew off the handle, I flew high. “Cheers,” I said, tapping our bars together and then unwrapping mine.

“I'll delete the pictures today,” she told me as she did the same, but she didn't sound happy about that. Good. I let her stew in that for a minute as I watched her lips slide over that chocolate like it was my cock. I wanted her to taste me so badly. Fuck, I wanted to taste her.

“I still have yours,” I admitted finally when I couldn't stand to watch her eat anymore. The way she slipped that bar into her mouth, sucked the chocolate off before she bit into it … fucking criminal. “The pictures, I mean.”

Her mouth opened with a pop.

“What?” she asked, looking at me like I was crazy. “You didn't show them to any of your friends, did you?”

“Like I would,” I snapped, and then forced myself to relax. Being a dick didn't help things. I was just getting twisted up in testosterone; it was making it hard for me to think clearly. And in my heart of hearts, I knew. I knew that even though I couldn't have Teagan that I wanted to make her want me. I wanted her to look at me like that, wish she could touch me. It was so fucking cruel, but I couldn't make myself stop.

I'm such an asshole.

I shoved the Snickers in my mouth and chewed a bite to give myself a second to relax.

I was terrified Teagan, of everything she represented: my past, our hometown, my own failures. When I looked at her, I felt like I could get complacent, like her smile was all I needed to get through the day. But at the end of it, somebody had to pay the bills, pay the rent. And eventually, I knew that complacency led to leaving. Before he'd died, my dad had left. He'd written me once a month, but that was it. Teagan's dad had left, too. And both our mothers had gotten with their high school sweethearts, boys they'd known their entire lives.

I wasn't entirely convinced the whole male population wasn't fucked.

Even me.

I used her. She bled on me. I ran away.

I squeezed my right hand into a fist.

“Why do you still have my pictures?” she asked, but I was too busy getting lost inside my own head to think clearly. Instead, I tossed my candy on the table and leaned forward, putting my left hand on the couch next to her hip. The cushion dipped her body into mine with the added weight, putting our faces close together. She looked back at me like she was terrified but exhilarated at the same time. Teagan loves me. I almost screamed. She hates me, too, but she wants me. Maybe even more than I want her.

No.

I stood up suddenly and hooked my hands behind my head.

Teagan looked so small and colorful sitting on that boring ass couch in that boring ass living room. She would've looked even smaller in a trailer with a baby and no air conditioning and an empty pantry and a shitty cheating husband who worked all the fucking time.

I sucked in a massive breath.

I was a selfish prick. What if all that had happened anyway? What if I'd left and made things even worse for her? What if she'd given up and stayed in Quaker Park? I was so desperate not to be held back, to escape, that I ended up being the one who was doing the holding back.

“I kept your pictures so I could jack off to them.”

Silence.

“You …”

“I touched myself. I came all over my hand. I do it a lot, actually. Do you? Do you watch my videos and touch yourself?”

“What are you … are you crazy, Tyce Winship?” Teagan asked, shaking her head and putting her fingers on her temples like she couldn't figure out what was happening here. “Why are you telling me this?”

I had no idea.

“I've gotta go,” I said, and then I turned around and left. Sprinting away, running away, just like I always did.

Hey, it's what I was good at.

'Hey, what's your favorite color?'

That was a question that'd been bugging me since the Halloween party. For whatever reason, I really needed to know. I sent the text over and then looked up at the stars. The lights above the field were on, doing their best to obscure my view, but I squinted past them and caught a glimpse of silver dots splashed across the navy sky. It reminded me of Teagan's Halloween dress, so random but so fucking beautiful.

I am seriously losing it.

I dropped my head, surveying the practice field and enjoying the emptiness of it. Our second practice of the day was over; everybody was inside changing—or sleeping. And here I was, sneaking out and standing like an idiot in the middle of the field. Behind me, the multimillion dollar Hatfield-Dowlin Complex loomed in black granite and glass. It housed our locker rooms, a one hundred and seventy seat theater, saunas, a barbershop. And that was just the tip of the iceberg. It was luxury, pure fucking luxury. It wasn't what I was used to, but it was what I was going to get used to.

I'm here. I'm doing this. I made it.

I forced myself to relive every shitty moment that had gotten me to this point as I tried to stay focused. I couldn't let this obsession with Teagan take over and consume me. I needed to stay grounded, that's why I was out here.

And yet … I was sending texts to Teagan and asking about her favorite color.

'Are you sure that's what you want to know? Why not tell me how many times you've touched yourself today?'

I almost cringed. Instead, I squeezed the phone in my gloved fist and then sat down, right on the green FieldTurf. I told myself that it was okay to get caught up in all of this, to enjoy the ride. My mom had me at fifteen, watched my dad walk away at eighteen, died in a crosswalk at age twenty-two. She'd been mowed down by a drunk cop, a guy who'd literally gotten up and walked away from the accident with a clean record and a slap on the wrist.

I'd suffered during all that. My mom had suffered. It was my time here. My time.

'Three,' I sent back to her, knowing I was being a jerk again. A-fucking-gain. Damn it. Even if I really did deserve all of this, Teagan didn't deserve to be treated like crap. In fact, she deserved all of this, too. I should marry her. I should take her with me to the NFL. I should buy her nice things and fuck her good and slow at night.

I closed my eyes as a gust of wind broke over the field and ruffled my hair.

None of that was ever going to happen. Maybe I was too selfish or too stupid or something, but I couldn't make myself admit that I could probably have that, have everything maybe. I'd been taught that when life kisses you on the cheek, she's fucking you with her other hand. If I tried to have Teagan, keep Teagan, something would go wrong.

Friends. We'd stay fucking friends.

'And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have fucked up like that.'

'No, you shouldn't have.'

I sent her a picture of the field and the stars and the lights.

'Where are you?'

'Sitting on the field. Practice was brutal. I have a test tomorrow. I should be sleeping.'

'So what's new?' Teagan sent back, and I smiled. 'Go to bed, Tyce.'

I laid back on the turf and crossed one leg at the knee. In a few minutes, a crew would come out here and start prepping the field for the morning practice. They were like multivitamins, two a day every day. It was a lot of work, but I didn't mind it. I actually loved the sport, the way it brought people together, gave them just enough violence to satisfy their base desires while keeping it civil enough that I felt elevated. Evolved.

It was probably a bunch of bullshit, but whatever. I reached down and picked at the edge of my cleat while I thought about what to say next. I had an idea. It was probably stupid, but it wouldn't go away no matter how hard I tried.

'You can keep the pictures,' I finally sent back. 'I'm keeping yours.'

'Um?' I was seriously fucking with Teagan's head today. I knew that. It wasn't fair. I kept doing it anyway.

'We could do it again,' I continued, waiting, my breath picking up speed as my cock hardened and I imagined another secret shot of her breasts in the dark, nipples peaked and rosy, chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. 'Like a friends with benefits thing? Not actual sex, I mean. Just this. Texting or Snapchats or whatever.'

I leaned my head back, looking upside down at the big black box that made up the football performance center. From here, it looked like the Death Star or something. Inside, it felt like a hundred years in the future. There were TVs embedded in the mirrors in the bathrooms so we could watch football while we shaved. There were black glass backed walls to write on, a room titled The War Room that even I wasn't allowed into. Our head coach had a secret staircase down to his private parking space.

But out here, even though I was lying on FieldTurf, I felt like I was in a wild place. I wanted to reach into my football pants, wrap my fingers around my cock, stroke myself until I came. But I knew these fields had cameras. Maybe they were recording right now, maybe not. The last thing I wanted was to get kicked off the team for a sex scandal. In the past, we probably could've gotten away with anything. With the social climate the way it was, people were sick of athletes being treated like gods. Thus, the reason we lived in the dorms with everybody else. Thus, the reason I didn't want to do something and fuck it all up. The media just needed one martyr, one idiot who slipped up and fucked up, someone with everything to lose. Bloodshed was wanted, maybe even needed considering how spoiled most of my teammates acted, but I refused to be a part of that.

'You want to … cyber with me or something?' Teagan asked. I wished I was looking at her face right now. In a text, those words could be interpreted so many ways. Was she pissed? Excited? Horny?

'It doesn't have to mean anything. Think about it. No physical contact. Just words and pictures.'

'You never told me what we're doing on Saturday,' she sent back, ignoring my request. I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not. 'Since you have a game, I can't figure out where you're going to find the time.'

I sat up, glancing over my shoulder as I heard Kai shouting my name. This friendship thing with Teagan might be all screwed up and weird, but at least as far as Saturday was concerned, I had it all figured out.

'I gotta go. I'll text you when I'm in bed. Let me know what you decide.'

I stood up and jogged my way across the field and into another world.

In that moment, I wasn't sure which I preferred most.

Teagan didn't text me back until Wednesday night.

I'd just finished my second practice of the day, ate and showered at the athletics center and then bummed a ride home with Kai. Within seconds of falling into bed, he was asleep and snoring like a fucking asthmatic bear. I didn't mind because it gave me time to think, to lie there in my bed and stare at Kai's Sports Illustrated posters of Kate Upton, Ashley Graham, and Hannah Davis.

None of them were as hot as Teagan Fletcher.

I groaned and rubbed my hands down my face, wondering if I'd screwed up our friendship completely by bringing up the stupid sexting thing again. I dropped my arms by my sides and saw my phone blinking at me. When I unlocked the screen, I saw the text from Teagan.

'Sleeping in my undies again,' it said, and a thrill shot through my body. I glanced over at Kai, sleeping on his side with his face towards the wall. I'd had sex in this room without waking him up before. Hell, I'd blasted hip-hop and pulled an all-nighter on a paper once and he'd snored straight through that, too.

'Prove it,' I sent back, feeling brave in the darkness of my dorm room. Asking Teagan to be my virtual fuck buddy was kind of an idiot move to make, especially with my feelings for her all over the place, but lying here like this, it seemed like a risk-free venture.

Hah.

A few seconds later, I had a crystal clear shot of Teagan's teal lace panties, scooped low enough that the flat expanse of her lower belly was visible. I could clearly see the long lean muscles beneath her skin, but she had enough of a feminine curve that she still looked soft to the touch. She is, my brain reminded me. She was. Didn't you feel it when you fucked her virginity away?

I sucked in a deep breath and then pulled up Skype on my phone, sending a video call over to Teagan and praying that she'd accept it. A few seconds later, there she was, looking up at me from her pillow and smiling sheepishly.

“This is a little more intense than I was expecting,” she told me, the husky sound of her voice crawling all over my body and getting into every single fucking pore. My cock hardened painfully, and I felt my mouth curve into a smile. “Texting is … well, it's not live.”

“You can end the call whenever you want,” I promised, staring up at Teagan's face and enjoying the splash of red hair around her head. It looked so much brighter against the white fabric of her pillowcase. I could only imagine what it'd be like to run my fingers through the silken strands, frame her face with my hands. “If it makes you feel any better,” I started and then panned the camera down my body. I heard her breath hitch, a sound of pleasure just from looking at me. It was fucking great. “I'm not naked. Yet.”

I knew she'd see my hard-on through my boxers, that she'd know how turned on I was.

When I put the camera back up to my face, I saw her biting her lower lip.

“This is weird, Tyce,” Teagan told me, but she didn't sound like she thought it was weird. She sounded like she thought it was hot. “I'm not sure I can do this.”

“Why not?” I asked as Kai snorted in his sleep and Teagan's eyes flicked to the side like she could see him there. I moved the camera and gave her a good view of his sleeping back. “He won't wake up, trust me. That piece of shit could sleep through an earthquake.”

“I guess …” Teagan started, but she didn't sound like she was convinced. I was so desperate to keep her on the phone, so desperate to have her without committing to anything. It was seriously pathetic. But I couldn't make myself stop.

“Let's just start slow, okay? I can do all the talking if you want.” I looked into her eyes and even though they were just digital pixels masquerading as Teagan Fletcher, I was hooked. “I could start by telling you how hard I am right now.”

“Tyce.”

“I could tell you that I'm imagining your hand sliding down my abs, curling around the waistband of my boxers and pulling them off.” I flipped the camera around and used my right hand to push my boxers down my hips and over the rigid shaft of my cock. I pushed them off and kicked them to the floor before stroking my dick a few times. My hand was warm and dry, but I needed it to be wet and hot. Covered in Teagan Fletcher. “I can feel your grip on me,” I continued, letting her watch me for a while. She was so quiet that I almost wondered for a second if she was gone.

“Tyce, wait,” she said, but her voice was high and needy.

“You're pumping my cock,” I told her, sliding my hand up and down in slow, steady strokes. “I'd rather thrust into your mouth, feel your tongue wrap around me.”

“I won't let you,” she said, her breathing picking up as I continued to film myself. When I flipped it around to look at her, one hand was clearly between her legs. “I won't do it. I've never sucked a cock before.”

I breathed harsh and heavy against the phone. I almost came right then and there, but I needed this to keep happening. I definitely couldn't stand the thought of it being over. Not yet.

“Seriously?” I asked with a slight chuckle. Then again, she'd already told me she'd never been kissed before.

“God, Tyce, are you trying to kill the mood?” Teagan snapped, but I don't think she stopped touching herself. Her lower lip was swollen from nibbling on it, and her pupils were dilated, turning her eyes large and dark in the thin shafts of moonlight that were leaking into her room.

“If you don't want me to talk, suck me off until I shut my mouth.”

Teagan gasped, her back arching off the bed as she did something magical with her fingers, something I wanted to watch, memorize and recreate. Her cheeks were red with desire, and there was a faint brush of darkness around her eyes that told me she'd put on makeup before texting me. She'd prepared for this; she wanted this.

“Do it,” I growled as she lifted her fingers away from her pussy and inserted two of them into her mouth. A groan escaped my throat as I worked my cock harder, tugging and pulling and abusing the shit out of it. “Deeper.” Teagan pushed her fingers in all the way to the knuckle, moaning and making her hands slick with saliva. The camera wobbled as she struggled to keep it focused on her face. “I want to see your tits,” I told her, waiting as she panned down and the two curved mounds of her breasts came into view. Her nipples were hard enough to cut diamond, and her chest heaved with each intake of breath. “I'm pulling you to your feet,” I told her, my voice harsh and desperate. It literally took every ounce of strength I had not to drive over there. I wanted to, but I knew if I did, I'd never leave. It'd take her, fuck her, and make her mine forever. Doesn't sound like such a bad idea, I thought, but I pushed that aside and concentrated on the sensations in my cock, the boil of desire in my blood. “I'm shoving you down on the bed. I'm kneading your breasts with my fingers.”

I watched as she her right hand came up and cupped her own breast, squeezing it tight, purple painted fingernails digging into that pale flesh.

“I'm running my hands down your chest,” she told me and I did my best to follow, letting go of my dick for just a moment to oblige her, sliding my fingers along my belly and making sure I filmed every inch of my abs, my pecs, my hips. “Your body's heavy on top of mine.”

I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted blood.

“You're wet and ready for me, spreading your legs and letting me tease you with the head of my dick.” Teagan put her phone between her legs with one hand and pulled her panties aside with the other, slipping a single finger in so I could see the pink wetness of her pussy. “I can't wait,” I told her, halfway between a moan and a scream. “I'm fucking you right now, thrusting in balls deep.”

I licked my palm in a slow, languid motion from heel to fingertips and then used my own saliva as lube, slicking my cock up as Teagan moaned and fingered herself in full view of the camera.

“Tell me how much you want me to fuck you,” I commanded, my voice cold and hard and dripping with dark desire. If I'd had any less sense … I might've thrown caution to the wind, grabbed some pants and sped over there. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Say it!”

“I want you, Tyce,” Teagan groaned, her back arching again, her lips parted. She had her eyes closed now, her body thrashing as she worked herself into a frenzy. “I want you to do me again and again and again.”

I let my head fall back, unsure exactly what I was filming right now and not really giving a crap. When I heard her moans amping up into these high, desperate keens, I let myself come all over my hand, checking the screen to make sure I wasn't missing Teagan's orgasm.

“That's it, Tea,” I whispered as I laid there and watched her face. She looked right back at me as she touched herself, drinking my face in like it was the last thing she'd ever see. “Let me have you, all of you. Let everything else go.” Her eyes flickered closed and after a few quick minutes that I wished would last forever, her face slackened and she let out one, long groan from the back of her throat.

It was wet and heavy and thick with need, magnetic enough that even Kai sputtered awake for a moment.

“What was that?” he asked, but he was back asleep before he finished his last syllable.

For several long minutes afterward, Teagan and I panted and stared at each other, neither of us saying a goddamn thing. It was awkward and kind of weird, and I actually felt ten times worse than before we'd started. It was a horrible idea, and it made no sense, and it was absolutely going to put this budding friendship of ours in serious trouble.

“I should go,” Teagan whispered and I nodded, returning the soft smile she passed me.

“Goodnight,” I said. I felt like I should add something else to that, but I didn't know what, so I just sat there until she ended the call and disappeared from my screen. “Shit,” I whispered, my body still full of testosterone and hormones and sex. Play pretend sex with Teagan was fun, but it wasn't enough. Not even close to enough.

I probably shouldn't do that again, I thought to myself as I threw my phone on the side table and ran the clean fingers of my left hand through my hair. Definitely should take a pass next time.

We ended up doing the exact same thing Thursday night.

I might've been a talented fucking QB, but I sure was a goddamn idiot.

I let Tyce stop by between practices on Friday.

Neither of us mentioned what had happened between us the last two nights. Wasn't that the point? To get out our sexual frustrations and desires without actually letting anything happen again. And when I said happen, I meant bullet dodged. I'd freaked out yesterday thinking I was pregnant. My period was a little late, and I'd belatedly realized after all this drama that I'd failed to even consider the possibility until now. But three pregnancy tests said I was definitely not pregnant.

I felt like such an idiot. I let Tyce come inside of me, and neither of us had even considered what could've happened. I was so stupid relieved about that. A baby … that would've been the dreaded anchor to tie and trap him that he was so freaking terrified of. Besides, both Tyce's mom and my mom had been young and pregnant, and both had gotten screwed over by life.

I debated on whether or not I should bring it up.

“Good news,” I said as I ate a pint of ice cream and Tyce chowed down on some sugar free sherbet stuff that his coach liked. I stared into the strawberry pink perfection of my food and tried to act casual. We were sitting on my bed. Him, leaning against the headboard. Me, cross-legged on the end. On my desk, a Netflix movie played that neither of us was really watching. Didn't matter. It felt good to sit here with him, talk about stupid crap, laugh, eat. When he'd left home four years ago, this easy nothingness was what I'd missed the most.

“Yeah?” Tyce asked, scooping up a colorful swirl of pale yellow and pink. I watched his lush fuller lip slide along the bottom of the spoon as he put it in his mouth. “And what's that?”

I hesitated just long enough that he looked up at me with those sapphires he called eyes. They glittered like jewels as he studied me, arching a brow in question. I tried to come up with something random to say, but my mind had just gone inexplicably blank.

“I'm not pregnant,” I said cheerfully, like this was a conversation I'd had a dozen times before. I turned back to the movie, twisting my body away from Tyce completely and eating another bite of my ice cream. It tasted like fucking ash. I felt him move closer to me, the bed dipping and adjusting itself as he scooted up to sit directly next to me.

I looked down and sideways, at his thick muscular arm and the black, gray, and red tattoos that decorated it. Just pushing a spoon into ice cream made his muscles flex and bunch, turned my insides to jelly.

“What?”

His voice was harsh and weird again. Crap. If he got pissed at me over this, I swear to God …

“I'm not pregnant.” I flicked my eyes up and stared at his face. I hoped the twirling green vines I'd painted up my eyelids and across my cheeks would distract him from what I was actually saying. “We did it without a condom,” I explained when he looked like he was about to throw his ice cream against my already paint splattered wall and carpet. Chelease still hadn't seen that, thank God. “I could've gotten pregnant. But I'm not.”

Tyce kept looking at me, the gold around his irises contracting as his pupils narrowed and the pulse in his throat started jumping. When he swallowed, his Adam's apple moved. It made me want to kiss the warm stubbly heat of his throat.

A few seconds ticked past, so I dug into my ice cream again. My tummy was twisted in knots, and I felt droplets of sweat on my forehead. Maybe I just screwed things up between us? I wondered as I stared into the nearly empty tub. I tried really hard not to think about his voice oozing through the speaker on my phone.

“That's it, Tea. Let me have you, all of you. Let everything else go.”

The last thing I expected was to feel a hard, warm arm around curl around my neck. Tyce was … hugging me. My breath twisted and caught, and I felt my heart suddenly beating inside my ears. His body felt so good pressed against mine, like we'd been sculpted as matching pieces, designed to fit in each other's arms. His fingertips were rough and sensual against my bare upper arm as he engulfed me, close enough that I could smell the clean fresh scent of his clothes, feel Tyce's heartbeat against my cheek. It felt so good, so much better, so much more complete than anything I'd experienced in a long, long time that I found myself closing my eyes and breathing all of him in.

The hug lasted for a long time. How long, I'm not sure, but when Tyce finally pulled away, I felt the lack of warmth like an arctic breeze. My chest got tight and air seemed like a difficult commodity to come by.

“What was that for?” I asked as Tyce sat back up, dressed in a pair of jeans and a Ducks t-shirt. The fabric stretched across his wide chest, pulling in all the wrong places. It so didn't fit. I so loved that. I tucked some hair behind my ear and turned back to the laptop screen. The characters were starting to get hot and heavy with one another, so I hopped up and changed over to an episode of Orange is the New Black, one that I knew didn't have any sexy scenes in it.

“It was a sorry for being an oblivious a-hole,” Tyce said, finishing his sorbet and standing up. He couldn't stay long on Fridays, not with the game just a half day away. Tyce smiled at me, and my heart flip-flopped. I wanted to hate him, but I was crushing so hard I felt like my soul was going to get pushed out of my chest from the pressure. “I bet you're still curious about tomorrow?”

“Yeah, actually,” I said as I turned to face him, my bare legs dangling off the edge of the bed. I was wearing a pair of black running shorts that had seen better days. I'd worn them into a public pool once, and the chlorine had leached a good portion of the color out. Still, when Tyce looked down at me, his eyes following the pale lines of my legs, he didn't look disappointed. “What am I going to be doing while you're playing the Cardinals?”

Tyce smiled at me, a wicked dangerous shit-eating smile that made me want to choke him. It was the same look he'd given me that first day in the park, when he was pulling the casanova dickwad act, the one that probably filled his bed every weekend—and several times during the week. I choked back a wash of jealousy and decided not to think too hard about that.

Besides, if Tyce was sexting me … then he wasn't sleeping with other girls.

A thrill traveled through me as he moved over to the door of my bedroom and put his hand on the knob.

“Guess you'll just have to wait and see,” he told me in a frustratingly sexy voice. “See you tomorrow, Tea.”

I heard Tyce's footsteps as he made his way down the hallway and let himself out.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? I never saw Tyce on game days. Never. Well, except for on the TV with people screaming and shouting about how amazing he was, watching replays over and over and over again.

I decided not to worry about it and cracked open my climatology homework. Don't ask me what climatology had to do with computer sciences; I was just following the degree requirements and powering my way through my gen ed.

About an hour later, I got another knock on the door and heard Chelease call me in from the living room.

“Package!” she shouted as I closed my laptop and stood up, stretching my arms above my head and wondering what the hell I'd be getting in the mail. I never got any mail except from the university. I didn't have any living relatives and paid Chelease directly for my rent and utilities. I definitely didn't order anything because I couldn't afford it.

“This better not be anthrax,” I joked as Chelease practically threw the box at me. She didn't laugh. When I looked down at the shipping label, I saw that it was from Tyce. He'd shipped it directly from the dorms. What the hell? I looked up and watched Chelease head into her room without a word. Her lips were pursed and tight, but I didn't know how to broach the subject that was lingering between us, stretched thin and brittle and broken.

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

When the door to Chelease's room slammed shut, I sat the box down on the counter and grabbed a knife, cutting through the tape and opening up the cardboard to find a manila envelope on top of a folded mound of clothes.

When I flipped the envelope over, I saw Tyce's scrawling writing in thick black Sharpie.

You looked like you could use a new wardrobe, it said. I put it aside for a moment and dug in, pulling out a U of O hoodie in green and yellow. My heart skipped a beat and I felt a funny feeling building my stomach. For a second there, I felt like a woman in a scandalous romance novel, one who'd just gotten a designer dress delivered to her from some billionaire CEO or something. Only my cocktail dress and jewelry was replaced with Ducks themed merch—a few different tank tops, running shorts, sweatpants, socks, even a bathing suit and a dress. There was enough in there to fill up the three empty drawers on my dresser. On the very bottom, there was a jersey with the number eight on it. When it lifted it to my face, I could smell Tyce on the fabric, that colorful mix of deodorant and sweat from a hard day's work. I recognized the black and gold jersey from the first game I'd ever seen him in against the Huskies. Game used, it was called, and believe it or not, these things were actually worth a lot of money online. During a random bout of searching, I'd seen one listed for three hundred and fifty bucks.

I set it aside and tried not to smile.

But I did anyway.

Big and stupid and happy. I felt my mouth curl up at the sides as I slipped a brand new hoodie over my head and reached for the envelope. My heart was light but twisted, tangled up with feelings that I didn't know how to deal with. I just wanted Tyce here so I could kiss his lower lip, bite it, run my tongue along his strong jaw. I wanted to take his cock in my mouth, flick my eyes up and watch him watching me—for real this time. Not our pretend pseudo-phone sex.

And all over some sports merch.

Well, not really. In my heart, I knew how much deeper my feelings went.

I tore open the top of the envelope and pulled out a note, a ticket, and a lanyard with my name on it. It was all so official looking that goose bumps broke out over my skin.

This is for the family and friends section on the sidelines. Get there early. I want to see you in full gear with full face. Paint yourself up and come watch me play.

I stared at the words for a long moment, tracing them over and over with my eyes before I looked at the ticket and the lanyard again. My heart rate picked up speed until I was panting. I didn't know why. It was just a football game, right? It'd be fun, a cool college experience to add to the memory book of my brain, but that's all it was, wasn't it?

It felt like so much more.

I sent Tyce a quick text.

'Got your package,' I told him as I waited with bated breath for a response. In my head, I was already planning out what to wear, how to do my makeup.

'See you on the field, Tea,' he sent back, followed by a naked photo of his body in the locker room, gray lockers lining the walls behind him and framing his bronze form. 'I'll be playing my best game for you.'

I stared at his body, at the thick muscles of his calves, the graceful way they curved into his thighs. His cock was rigid, balls tight, like he was about to come or something. I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes, opening them up again right away so I could keep staring. His chest piece bled into a gray and black tattoo on his side, a Virgin Mary with a cross that I wanted to ask him about but never had. There were so, so many things I wanted to ask him. Why his body made mine turn into goo, why his eyes looked at me like I belonged to him, why I spent every spare second of everyday thinking about him.

Why we had to be just friends.

I almost texted him back, told him I was okay with being number two, that I wanted him here inside of me as soon as practice was over.

Instead, I just said 'thank you, Tyce' and left it at that.

If I said anything else, the dam of my heart would burst and it'd all come tumbling out.

I had so much trouble sleeping that I ended up getting out of bed at the crack of dawn. I took a long, hot shower, blow-dried my hair, and started my makeup. This time, I didn't give one half of my face to the opposing team; I kept it all for Tyce.

I covered my lips in black and painted a gold '8' across the center. On one side of my face, I put the Pac-12 symbol in black and green liner, and on the other I put the famous 'O' logo. Fake lashes made of green and yellow feathers decorated my lids and a wash of sparkling black eyeshadow completed the look.

In my Ducks care package, there'd been a pair of 'O' earrings that I hooked on my lobes, pulling my hair over my shoulder and braiding it so it didn't get in my face. I wanted him to see it when he looked over at me, open and bare beneath the colored cosmetics.

“I see you've got plans today,” Chelease told me when she got up an hour later and started making coffee. She was clearly upset, but I felt like I couldn't broach the divide between us right now, not before the game. Afterwards, I could be all ears. This morning, I needed to live for this.

I tried on several different outfits from the box in a variety of combinations, all the while casting glances over at my phone and wondering if I should text Tyce something. Last night, I'd tossed and turned, wishing I could Skype him and see his face, his smile. But I knew if I did he wouldn't get any sleep and I'd be doing the exact thing that had him so scared in the first place. I didn't want to be a distraction or a roadblock, just a friend.

Right now, that was enough. It had to be.

So I settled on a tight fitting gray tank with the word Ducks written across it in random green slashes, a black and gold University of Oregon hoodie and a pair of cropped running pants with a Nike logo on the side. I slipped on the new sneakers Tyce had given me and pulled the lanyard over my head, tucking the ticket and the jersey he'd sent in the kangaroo pocket of my sweatshirt.

When I was ready, and it was a reasonable enough time to show up, I headed outside and walked the block or so to Autzen Stadium.

It was a surreal experience to see the crowds already building outside the stadium, a horde of people in green and yellow, already pumped up and ready for the game. As soon as those gates opened, students would sprint up the stairs in a frantic flight to get the front seats in their section. Cars filled what was on off days just an empty lot, turning the gravel area into a shining sea of metal and glass, Ducks flags and paint decorating most of the rear windows.

All of this was new to me, a completely fresh experience that had my heart thudding and my pulse galloping. On game days, I either hid in my apartment or went to Melia's to watch everything on the small neat surface of her flat screen.

This was anything but neat.

Inside, the stadium was loud as hell, sound pounding down on me from all sides, making me feel like I was the single focus of everyone in the city. The infamous 'Autzen bounce' sent the sounds reverberating up the stadium and bouncing back down to the field. All around me, people chatted and whispered, screamed, shouted, waved flags around, wore their team colors like they were in a biker gang or something.

It made me smile.

I stood up, rising to my tiptoes and twisting my lanyard in circles as I took in my surroundings. I had an easy view of the field from my spot, a front row sideline seat at the fifty yard line for players' guests. That's what my ticket said—guest. It made me feel important and inconsequential all at the same time. I didn't want to be just a guest. I was more than just a guest. But at the same time, I liked the possessive. Players' guest. I was a player's. I belonged to a player.

My independent side had a fit about that, but it wasn't a man/woman thing or a power thing or anything like that. It's just … sometimes it feels good to know you belong somewhere … or to someone.

Right now, I felt like part of a massive club, the people on either side of me yelling excitedly, their faces smeared with paint, their bodies drenched in sports gear. Over the speakers, the Grateful Dead played “Touch of Grey”, a subtle nod to several decades past when Autzen Stadium had served as their concert venue in Eugene.

I sat back down, my heart fumbling my feelings as I tried to keep myself calm. It wasn't working. Here I was, surrounded by people hyped up and shouting, their own heartbeats thumping with the excitement, and yet very few of them were actually in love with the star quarterback. Not fake in love, like they had a Melia type crush, but … whatever this was that I was feeling. I was hesitant to admit to myself how bad it actually was.

I'd come to Eugene because I had a scholarship … but also because of Tyce.

I'd been in love with Tyce before he left and now … I was sexting him, fucking him. I almost put my face in my hands, but I remembered my makeup. I wanted to look good for Tyce. In my nighttime fantasies the past two nights, right after I'd hung up with Tyce, I'd dreamed about what it'd be like to be his girlfriend. Hell, that wasn't a new fantasy of mine. I'd been fantasizing about being with Tyce since I was twelve. But now, sitting here, I felt like he really was.

Maybe for today I could at least pretend?

Of course, that was all a lie, but the fantasy of it was fun.

I slipped off my hoodie and pulled the jersey he'd sent me out of the front pocket. Was wearing it tacky? What would he think if I put it on? What would it mean?

Screw it.

I jerked the black and gold jersey over my head and found myself enveloped in Tyce, sending goose bumps up my arms as the crowd readied themselves for the start of the game.

The Oregon Marching Band would play “Mighty Oregon” and line up on the field, and then the Ducks' mascot, Puddles, would ride out on a Harley. The players would follow in their new uniforms, helmets glinting in the rare spot of sunshine above our heads. Tyce would be with them, his muscular arms exposed, that full lower lip of his just barely visible beneath the visor on his helmet.

I swallowed hard and rubbed my suddenly sweaty palms on the cropped running pants Tyce had sent me. This was so stupid. I was so overthinking it all.

I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest, pausing when my cell started to buzz in my pocket. Pulling it out, I found a text from Tyce.

'I'll be looking for you,' he told me and my heart fluttered. I considered texting him back, but figured he probably wouldn't get the chance to check. Instead, I closed my eyes for a moment and took deep breaths. Tyce had grown up in a trailer at least twice as shitty as mine with no dad and a struggling young mom. When he'd lost her, he'd been given to a witch of a woman with enough money and power to make him suffer ten times over. For what, I wasn't sure. Neither of us had ever understood Jackie's hatred of him, but then, maybe some people are just born wrong.

Right here, right now, I'd finally get to celebrate his escape and his success in person. It was a little bitter, sure, because of what he'd put me through, but I was still happy for him. I really was.

I took a deep breath and waited for the public address announcer to call the crowd's attention to the field, watching everyone line up, the music play, the crowd cheer. I watched that dude in a Donald Duck-esque suit ride around a motorcycle. Mostly, I listened to the sounds around me, the booing for the visitors … and the chorus of joy that exploded for the home team.

Green and yellow flags waved in the players' gloved hands as they jogged forward across the Astroturf, the Jumbotron screen above the field zooming in on helmeted faces and jerseys, a massive monitor for the crowd to enjoy from their seats.

I noticed Tyce right away, and it wasn't just because the camera zoomed in on him, or because of his number or even his tattoos. It was the way he moved, like he was confidence incarnate, like he ruled the whole damn world. He was a rarity when it came to quarterbacks, a guy who could both run and throw. And the crowd loved him.

“Winship! Winship! Winship!” they screamed between bouts of “Go Ducks!” and “OOOOOOOOO!” with their thumbs and forefingers pressed together to make the shape. The players mimicked them, holding up their hands, forming a black 'O' in the center of their golden gloves. They had jerseys to match, black pants and black helmets.

Tyce's legs were exposed below the knee, all the way down to his socks. It gave me the perfect view of his muscular calves, and when he turned, I could see the firm shape of his ass in the tight fitting football pants. I closed my eyes and took a breath before opening them back up. I hoped I wasn't the only weirdo in the stadium getting turned on right now.

Over the speakers, the public address announcer gave the weather forecast and asked the crowd to tell their visitors what the real one was. It was a bit of a joke since Oregon was notorious for its rough weather, but the crowd shouted in glorious glee, “it never rains in Autzen Stadium!”

I joined in with them, raising my hands and shouting with everyone else, but my eyes never left Tyce. Not for a second, not for an instant. As he moved across the field, I saw his gaze turn towards the fifty yard line where he must've known I'd be sitting. I couldn't see his eyes through the shaded visor on his helmet, but his lips curved up in a wicked smile.

And I knew.

I knew it was for me.

Game day.

It never got old for me. Every single time we went out on that field—whether it was an away game or right here at home—I felt the crowd pulsing around me like a single entity. It was the beating heart of Eugene, gathered in one place for a moment of respite from the drudgery of life. Whenever I stood in the darkness of the tunnel, waiting with chills coursing down my spine, I knew that I was more than just an athlete. I was an entertainer, a role model. I could take this gift that I'd been blessed with, and I could run with it.

It's what I fucking intended to do—especially with Teagan Fletcher in the crowd.

Even before I saw her, I could feel her. Hell, when we'd been dropped off at the eternal flame, a fire that burned in honor of past Ducks players, I'd sensed her in the stadium. Don't ask me how I knew she was there. I mean, for all I knew, she could've said fuck that guy and stayed home. I couldn't have really blamed her for that. I was a dick. And I was selfish. I wanted her, and I let her know how much I wanted her, but I refused to have her because she might fuck up my life plans.

I was a goddamn pig.

Still, when we crossed through the Mo, our indoor practice field turned tailgating party for the fans, and I waved and smiled and pumped my fist in the air, I felt good. I felt great. Because even if I wasn't treating Teagan right, using her even, I had her. It might've just been for a second, but it felt so goddamn good. Even more proof that if I'd stayed in Quaker Park, I would've destroyed us both.

I'd pushed those thoughts down, crushed them beneath my sneakers as we headed past hundreds of chanting fans outside our locker room. They pushed up against the metal fences, reached for us like we were rock stars. I felt like a rock star when I saw their faces lit up like that, painted for me, jerseys sporting my number on their shoulders.

I got dressed in the locker room, my hands shaking with anticipation. I told myself it was because of the game, but that was a lie. It was for Teagan. Because I knew she'd be right there, close enough to touch, watching me, studying me.

I wanted to prove to her that all the pain I put her through was worth it, that we hadn't suffered for nothing, that I'd made the most out of every second we'd been apart.

Down the pitch black tunnel towards the field, a security guard on either side of us, my boys jumping up and down, bouncing from foot to foot and spinning around. As we hit the end, the Harley with our mascot in front of us, we all smacked the back of the metal sign above the tunnel. It said “Fast, Hard, Finish” on it, a motto the team had adopted in its heart and soul. I felt it personally, from the beginning when I started playing pee wee football in our crap town, studying YouTube videos of the greats, reading books, magazines, online articles. I hit football fast from the very beginning, smashed into Thurston High School hard enough to get recruited here, and now I was going to finish it.

I'd taken a deep breath as we'd started out of the tunnel, hundreds of fans piled over us, loud and riled and ready for blood, chanting our names. My name.

“Winship! Winship! Winship!”

Out onto the field, under the big ol' Jumbotron, I found my soul. My obsession. My passion.

This is what I lived for, the thrill and the fight and the glory. Out here, I'd shut the crowd out, talk to my boys with hand signals that nobody understood but us. I'd put points on the board and walk out of there with a 'W'. It was my everything, my destiny.

But as I jogged across the bright green FieldTurf, I felt a pull towards the fifty, the family section, the place where I knew Teagan would be sitting. And I saw her. From the middle of the field, I picked her out from everything. In a sea of green and gold, her red hair was like fire and her energy flickered like lighthouse, drawing me to it.

I couldn't look away. I think I smiled at her.

For a split second, I wished I wasn't grinding down here on the field, but that I was up there with Teagan, sitting next to her, curling our fingers together. Even with thousands of fans screaming my name, I only cared about what she thought.

Passion. Obsession.

I couldn't tell the two apart. Hell, maybe they were the same damn thing? Either way, for a flash of an instant there, I couldn't decide where those words belonged. Football. Teagan. A career. A future. Something worth fighting for.

My head got so jumbled up that I wanted to scream.

This is exactly what you've been avoiding! I yelled at myself, knowing I was taking risks, making mistakes, screwing up. I wasn't in the NFL yet. Until that contract was inked in blood, I was still just a college player with no money and no education. If I did anything—anything—at all to jeopardize that, I was a moron. I was worse than a moron. I was a disgusting sack of shit who left the only mother figure he ever really knew and the girl he'd loved since he was seven and a guy who let years and years of hard work and sacrifice get flushed down the toilet.

Fuck.

Fucking Teagan.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I turned away from her and tried to breathe.

Passion.

Obsession.

Thrill.

Teagan.

I gritted my teeth and curled my gloved hands into fists. I'd invited her here to show her how far I'd come, to prove myself blah blah blah, but in reality, maybe I was just being selfish? I wanted her here. For me. Because I liked her and I was wondering how the hell I was ever going to let her go again.

“You alright?” Kai's hand on my back popped the air around me like a bubble, let in the sound, the raucous horrible wonderful crash that was Autzen Stadium, a place where the best teams went to die. It was so goddamn loud in here that other teams had accused us of piping extra sound in just to throw them off their game.

I smirked.

We didn't need to cheat to win; the Ducks had me.

“I'm fine,” I said, shutting down my mind, pushing Teagan out of it.

I'd play this game, win it, remind myself that I'd already chosen between football and Fletcher.

I'd remind myself that what I lived for, what I'd chosen, was this.

During the first half of the game, I managed to keep my thoughts in check by pointedly not looking Teagan's way. But I knew in the back of my mind that she was fifteen, maybe twenty, feet behind me. If I turned around and jogged over there, held up my arms, she could jump into him. That's how close we were.

Unfortunately, Mason Fenna noticed her, too, and he waved and sauntered and acted like a complete a-wad. I did my best to ignore him, too, but when the second half of the game started, I couldn't take it anymore. My focus was on the game, yeah, but I needed to see her face, she if she was watching me.

When I glanced over my shoulder, seconds away from taking the field again after half-time, I saw her looking at me. Staring at me. Studying me. Her face was painted in tribute to me, her lips decorated with my number, her eyes zoned in on my back. I lifted up a hand, did a little wave that got caught by the cameras and flashed up on the fucking Jumbotron. The crowd tittered and the people sitting on either side of Teagan turned to look at her, to check out the girl that was stealing my attention away from the game.

I snapped my face forward and gritted my teeth.

When I hit the field again, I took my aggression out with my plays, my runs, my passes. I made sure we smoked the shit out of the other team. As the game was nearing its end, we were up by seven, and I knew that come hell or high water, we were going to win the day. Period. I wasn't about to invite Teagan over here to watch me lose.

I smirked and waited for my chance, getting the ball in my hand and running it to get the clock down, icing my enemies with that sprint.

“Touchdown, DUCKS!” I heard the announcement over the loudspeaker, felt the blood thumping in my head. “An incredible play by Tyce Winship, one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever put on a Ducks uniform. I'm telling you, the kid has a real career ahead of him.” The words swirled around and through me as my teammates jumped on me, patted my back, hooted and fucking hollered. The student section in the corner of the end zone went ballistic, like a herd of wild dogs, howling and baying and cheering.

Game. Set. And. Match.

I cheered, slapped helmets, danced around like a fucking idiot.

But I never forgot that Teagan was watching me.

Her eyes burned into me, drew my own up so that all I saw for the next few minutes was her face. I didn't see the other team when we slapped hands, congratulated them on a good game. Didn't see my coach, my teammates, the crowd as they yelled and rippled in a wave of flags and color and hands and jeers. I only saw Teagan and the way she made me feel, the way those emotions battled with the rush of the game, fought for control of my heart.

I watched her as my team jogged their way towards the tunnel to head back into the locker rooms. Five minutes after the final whistle, the fans would be let loose to walk the turf, take photos, get a sense of what it was really like down there in the pit. But right as I approached the blackness, I found myself coming to a stop, putting my right hand on the cement wall outside.

As soon as I crossed this threshold, I wouldn't be able to see Teagan anymore, see the way she stood up and moved to the railing, leaned over, her red hair spilling over shoulder in a braid. Even from here, I could see her pale fingers curling tight around the metal, her nails green and yellow and marked with my number. Marked by me. Mine.

Shit.

I started breathing hard, flicked a glance over at the rapidly disappearing bodies of my teammates, and then straight back to Teagan. I felt my cock respond to the sight of her in my jersey, the way it draped her shoulders and shrouded her in my scent, turned that possessive urge into a raging fire that I couldn't stop. Sweat poured down the sides of my face, and I was fucking tired, and I was aching with adrenaline and testosterone and rage.

Seconds dragged past.

Seconds, but we only had five minutes.

I took off before anybody could realize I was missing, sprinting down the sidelines like I'd sprinted along the paths in Alton Baker Park. I skidded to a stop in my cleats, moving up to the cement wall at the edge of the field.

“Tyce?” Teagan asked, her voice audible even through the enormous roar of chatter from above and around. I had no idea how I heard her. Or maybe I didn't. Maybe I just saw those painted lips of hers move with the single syllable of my name.

I wanted them wrapped around my cock.

I wanted to fuck her.

Even if I couldn't have her, or if it would hurt her, or if it would hurt me. Didn't matter. Didn't matter. Less than five minutes.

“Come here,” I said or maybe I shouted it. Maybe she couldn't hear me either, but I guess she read my lips because she climbed over the railing onto the grass that covered the top of the wall. I gestured her forward before somebody saw and tried to stop us. But what were they going to do anyway? In five minutes, the crowd would be released onto the field. And I was Tyce fucking Winship, and I'd just won this goddamn game for my team, and I wanted—no, no I needed—Teagan. Now.

She leaned down, putting her hands on my shoulder pads while I reached up and put my hands on her hips, yanking her down and into me. My body was sweaty and dirty and disgusting, and my muscles hurt, and I really needed a fucking shower.

“Hi,” she said as she gazed into my eyes through the shield on my helmet. Her mouth was slightly parted and her pulse jumping. I reached a hand up and smoothed a thumb over it, feeling her body's reaction to me like a drug. Her pupils were dilated and her forehead dotted with sweat. And that jersey. That fucking jersey. I thought maybe that was what really did it for me. Seeing her dressed in my clothes turned everything I'd ever felt and thought about Teagan on its head. I suddenly saw her in my shirts with nothing on underneath, mussy and groggy and smiling in the morning. I saw her in my bed naked when I went to sleep at night.

I might not be able to have any of that, but at least I could have this.

I was going to take what I needed from her, right here and now.

I reached down and took Teagan's hand, curling my gloved fingers around her pale ones. “What are we doing?” she asked as I forced her to jog after me towards the tunnel. “Where are we going?” Her voice was breathy and patchy, and she panted as she ran after me, but she kept going, following me into the pitch blackness and down, down, down.

At the halfway mark, I stopped, turned, shoved her back into the wall.

“Tyce,” Teagan said, her voice high and reedy, like she was about to come in her panties just from looking at me. I reached up and tore my helmet from my head, tossing it aside and letting it bounce along the pavement beneath our feet. I was panting so goddamn hard in that moment, sucking in breath after anxious breath as my eyes flicked over her face, down her throat, across the full swell of her chest.

I stepped forward and cupped the back of her head with a golden glove, leaned down and captured her mouth with mine. I kissed her hard and fast, frantic with time and need and desire. Less than five minutes. I bruised Teagan's mouth with my own, slide our tongues together, made her dizzy when I pulled back and looked her straight in the face.

“We have five minutes,” I said and then we were working together to shove her pants down one leg, over her sneakers. Mine were next, pushed down halfway off my ass, my cock springing free from my cup. I lifted Teagan up against that stone wall, slammed her back into the cool cement and let her curl her fingers in my sweaty hair. It was stuck to my forehead, probably a hot mess, but she looked at me like I was a god. I felt like a god there in that tunnel in the dark with thousands of fans screaming and pounding the pavement above our heads. In an instant, my coach or a security guard or one of the boys, they could come down here and find us screwing.

I didn't care.

Seriously. I didn't give a shit.

My hands curled around Teagan's bare ass as I found the molten slickness of her core and thrust my way in, pushing her into the wall as she gasped and tears sprung up at the edges of her eyes. It wasn't fair. I'd taken her virginity in a second, right up against a tree like it was nothing. And here on her second time, I was ramming her into a wall, but I couldn't make myself stop. I couldn't figure out what I wanted other than this, and I didn't know how to say no. If she'd told me to stop, I would've, but she didn't.

She whimpered and buried her face against my shoulder pads, her hands reaching down and cupping my own ass with her long nails. She pulled me into her, let me slide my cock as far as it would go as we panted and groaned, grunting like animals in our less-than-five-minutes-left.

I didn't even try to keep my voice down, confident that whatever noises I made would be drowned by the crowd. But if someone did happen to hear or see, then let them see. Let them look.

Teagan Fletcher was mine, and I didn't care who knew.

Tyce was a monster in his gear with sweat dripping down the sides of his face, off the tip of his nose, catching on that bruised swell of his lower lip. I bit at it, kissed him, ran my tongue up his jaw like I knew what I was doing.

I didn't.

I was twisted around, bent and confused and hurting. His cock still hurt this time, but it wasn't as bad. It was … full. I felt full and empty at the same time. Tyce and I were having sex, he was inside of me, he was looking at me with this dark intent that I couldn't understand, and yet I'd never felt like we were further apart.

I wanted to stop or say no because I knew this was only going to hurt me in the end, that he could shrug this all off and walk away like he'd done before, I but I couldn't. I liked him too much. Missed him too much. And even if I'd never had another 'friend' on this earth that I'd let pick me up and slam me into a wall, I went with it.

I wrapped my legs around him, clawed at the tight muscles of his bare ass cheeks as they clenched and rippled with each violent thrust. I felt Tyce in my core as he moved and groaned and sweated on me with his pants shoved down his hips and mine dangling off and dragging. My mind and my common sense were foggy, hazy things that whispered about getting caught. Just like at the park, they were shut down by so many other feelings and emotions that I couldn't hear anything but the sound of the crowd above our heads.

The thumping of feet mimicked my racing pulse as Tyce's hard body rubbed mine in just the right way, pushing against my clit as his cock dove inside of me. I could feel myself tightening on him, encouraging him, fluttering against him as he let go of my ass with his tattooed right hand and slammed his gloved palm into the wall.

Our movements got faster and more frenzied, and I found that the pain started to dissipate, to become less than nothing as I wiggled my own hips, thrust my own pelvis to meet his, lifted my hands up and pulled at his hair. I nibbled his lower lip and smeared it with lipstick because it was just so perfect that I couldn't get enough. I stared into his blue-gold eyes and pretended that for a second there, he was really mine. Permanent and forever. Not some fleeting face on a phone camera or a guy I remembered with both hate and love. He wasn't the person who'd fucked me and shrugged his shoulders like it was nothing. I let my fantasies take over and tell me that Tyce was the other half of my soul that I'd always dreamed he was.

His thick, long cock opened me up wide, and I felt his balls pressing against my body, the firm tight muscles of his abs crushing me to the wall.

“Less than five minutes,” he groaned as he worked us both up into a frenzy. I felt the stirrings of an orgasm come over me and cried out, clutching at his head, his face, kissing him as I struggled through the wild violet burst of emotion that ripped through me. I think I cried. As I shivered and held Tyce, touched the pads on his shoulders, his chest, I felt him come inside of me again and I didn't know what to do about any of it.

When he slid out, fast and quick, I felt cold. Cold as he set me down and tried to help me back into my pants. Cold as he yanked up his own, a vision in his uniform that I wouldn't soon forget. I looked up at him, a full twelve inches taller than me with his wide, wide shoulders and tapered waist, those padded pants that cupped his ass like a second skin, the gloves on his hands, the tattoos I could still see on his arms. I'd smeared the black and gold lipstick from my mouth all across his, over his chin, along his cheek, like an accessory to the eye black he wore beneath that dark sapphire gaze.

I stared at him and he stared right back at me just as the noise of the crowd began to shift and they flooded onto the green of the field for the stadium walk. Soon, they'd flick the lights on in the tunnel and they'd be allowed to briefly walk down here, too, feel what it was like to be worshipped and revered and lifted up so high above everyone else that maybe you couldn't see how bad they were hurting anymore.

I reached up and felt a tear crawl down my cheek.

Our sex was hot, and it was perfect, and I was still panting, but I was also wondering who this person was that I was becoming. Who was Tyce. What was happening between us.

He kept staring at me, his chocolate dark hair twisted and plastered against his skull with sweat. The straight bridge of his nose dripped sweat onto his swollen lips. Mine felt used, tainted. But I loved it. All of it. And I hated it, too.

“I don't know what to do,” I said, and I guess he misinterpreted my words. Or maybe he was just an idiot. Tyce lifted up a gloved hand and used his thumb to wipe away the tear.

“It won't hurt every time,” he told me, like he was some expert. Some sex god sent down from on high. “Did you walk here?”

Like that mattered, like the physical stuff was important at all.

“What's going on here?” I asked him, pointing between us, knowing we didn't have a lot of time to talk. Apparently Tyce was thinking about that, too.

“I don't know, but I can't talk right now.”

“Just tell me,” I whispered, looking over and seeing the people in hordes and droves. They couldn't see us, not in the pitch black, not yet. I looked back at Tyce. “Do you want me or not? Because half the time, I feel like you do. And the other half …”

“I already told you this isn't going to work,” Tyce snapped, and he sounded pissed. I hated him for that. I tightened my jaw and forced the tears back. I wasn't going to cry again. No way. “If you want to keep … doing this stuff, fine. But it's not going anywhere. I'm sorry.”

“Stop fucking me around with me and sayings oops, Tyce. Stop fucking me and saying sorry. It's screwed up and it's mean, and it's not doing either of us any favors.”

“Oh hey, Teagan,” a voice said from down the tunnel to my right. It was Mason Fenna. My heart stammered as I wondered how much he'd seen. I looked at him, still dressed in his uniform. It was clean. He wasn't sweaty. He wasn't used. With Tyce, they didn't need him. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Fuck off, Fenna,” Tyce snapped, jerking his fingers through his hair. People were starting to come down the tunnel and a security guard was making his way towards us. “I gotta go,” he told me, and I shook my head, yanking the jersey off and exposing my Ducks tank underneath.

“Yeah,” I snapped right back, tossing the ball of black fabric at his chest. “Go ahead. That's what you're good at.”

“How was the game?” Chelease asked when I walked back in the door, shaky on my feet and sweating and desperate for a shower. I smelled like Tyce, felt his hands on my skin, his semen inside of me. I needed it off, off, off. I had to wash it all off.

“Don't sound too enthused,” I said, knowing I was being bitchy but unable to stop myself. Chelease flicked her braids over one shoulder and stood up from the table, slamming her smartphone down on the glass. I paused on my way past and gave her a look. “I'm sorry if I sound upset, okay, but I've had a shitty day. A shitty week. A shitty month. And I don't know what your problem is. I get it if you hate football or hate Tyce for being an arrogant jerk or whatever, but if you have something to say, then say it. I can't take all of this animosity anymore.”

I stood there staring at Chelease for several seconds before I turned and started walking away.

“Hold on,” she said, sitting back down at the table. “Just … I'm sorry, okay? I'm not trying to be a bitch, but …” There was a strange, stringy hesitancy in her voice, something that told me this was important, that it was related to the vague hints she'd dropped on Halloween.

I walked back over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. I definitely needed a shower, but there was already one relationship in my life that was screwed up, so if I had a chance to fix another right now, I was going to take it.

Chelease looked down at the glass surface of the table for five whole minutes before she spoke. I knew it was that long because I could see the clock above and behind her head. I watched each second tick past as I stayed patient. Sitting here, letting this sudden crisis with Chelease fall into my lap, it saved me from feeling sorry for myself, from hating Tyce, from punching a wall or something.

“I was raped, okay?” she said, like it was no big deal at all. Her eyes, her shoulders, the way her head drooped forward on her neck all told a different story. I felt sick to my stomach. My mouth fell open, but I didn't know what to say. Sorry seemed pathetic and insincere. When seemed offensive and frankly, none of my damn business. I closed my mouth. Opened it. Closed it again. Reached my fingers up and realized I still had smeared black lipstick all over my face.

“Thank you for telling me,” I said honestly, dropping my hand to the table. Makeup streaked across the glass and Chelease frowned at me. I knew as soon as I got up, she was going to grab a bottle of Windex and some paper towels and start scrubbing it. I'd do it myself, but she'd just come after me and do it again. She had a thing about glass and streaks and all that.

“It happened in high school,” she added, making me think I'd made the right choice by holding my questions. Her eyes stayed focus on the lipstick smear as they glazed over with some memory better left forgotten. “He was a quarterback, too, you know?” Chelease glanced up at me. “A big shot.” A glance back down at the table. “I grew up in Texas, so football isn't just a game. It's life. No way were they gonna bust a QB for banging some drunk chick at a party.”

Chelease sucked in a harsh breath, like there were tears waiting on the horizon, but when she looked up at me, her eyes were dry. I wasn't sure that mine were. I wanted to get up, walk around the table and hug her. But we didn't have that kind of relationship, and I knew it.

“But I didn't drink, not really. I had half a beer. Nobody gets plastered on half a beer. He drugged me, filmed it, too.” Chelease stood up, grabbed the Windex and paper towels like I'd expected. I scooted back and let her clean the table, her purple maxi dress swishing around her ankles. “When I told people, they called me a liar. My own family accused me of making up stories.” Chelease rubbed the table in wide, slow circles, her gold bracelets bright against her skin. “You know what happened to me? I lost my friends. I got treated like I was wearing a damn scarlet letter. And you know what happened to him?”

I didn't answer, just sat there and wrapped my arms over my chest, fingers digging into my bare biceps. In the back of my mind, all I heard was Tyce, Tyce, Tyce, Tyce, Tyce. It was selfish and stupid, but I couldn't help it, so I swallowed the murmur back and focused on Chelease.

“He got recruited to a division one school, full ride scholarship and all that and everything else.” Chelease stood up straight and stared down at me, her eyes burrowing right through my face and into my skull. “So guess what? When I see football players, I want to puke. When I see people worshipping them and coddling them and letting them get away with everything from a speeding ticket to dog fighting to fucking rape, I feel like I'm gonna die inside.”

“I'm so sorry, Chelease,” I said, but she didn't want to hear anything at all from me right now. Her feet whispered across the beige carpet as she moved over to the table and picked up her phone. The screen reflected off the surface of the glass.

“Now you know. I'm sorry I've been a bitch about everything. I don't mean to be.” Chelease flipped her phone over and sighed, staring at it instead of me. I felt like I was being dismissed.

“I'm sorry, too,” I said, and I was. I shouldn't have snapped at her when I walked in the door. “If you ever want to talk—”

“No.” Her brown eyes flicked up to mine and she gave my smeared lipstick a raised eyebrow and a shake of her head. “That's it. I just thought you should know. If you're gonna hang around with those guys, you should be careful. I don't have anything else to say on it. Just don't invite me to no Ducks game.”

Chelease gave me another assessing look, rolled her eyes, and then moved down the hall into her room. I waited until I heard the soft snick of her door to stand up. My body was still pulsing from Tyce's touch, a little sore between my legs, a lot sore inside my heart. But Chelease's story had poured a bucket of ice over me that I didn't know what to do with.

I hurt for her. I wanted to strangle the guy from her story. The world was unfair and it sucked.

I sighed and ran my hands down my face, coming away with green and yellow and black smears. Between my legs, I felt the warm wetness from my encounter with Tyce. Maybe later tonight I'd cook Chelease dinner or something, try to let her know I was there for her. But right now, the only thing I needed was a long, hot shower.

Tyce texted me later that night, right about the time I'd given up hope that he'd contact me at all.

'How was your first live game?' he asked me, playing the friend card again. I could see from his message that what he wanted right now was to reset to yesterday, act like nothing had happened. But I was tired and sore and emotionally exhausted from Chelease's story. The last thing I needed or wanted right now was to play games.

'Great until you pulled me out of my seat for sex.'

There was a fifteen minute pause between that text and the next.

'Teagan.' Just that. Just Teagan. And then he sent me a call on Skype that I ignored. I didn't want to fight with him again. In fact, it was one of the last things I wanted, but I didn't really know what else to do. If I brought up my feelings, he'd get pissed, and then I'd get pissed and well … It wasn't my fault that Tyce had serious anger problems. 'Maybe I should come over there?'

The idea was tempting, more so than it should've been, but no. If he did come, we'd probably end up screaming or fucking again, possibly both. I couldn't handle the emotional rollercoaster. Besides, I didn't want to put Chelease through that right now.

'Sorry. That can't happen.'

'Then what?'

'If you don't know why I'm upset, then you have your answer right there.'

There was another long pause, maybe twenty minutes or so where I got so pissed that I ended up turning Netflix on on my phone and starting an episode of The Returned, the French version not the American. Les Revenants, I think it was called.

'If your ankle feels okay, can we run together tomorrow?'

I stared at the text for a whole minute before responding. Run? Tomorrow? What the hell, Tyce? I had no idea where he was going with this. I felt deflated by his lack of responses, his seemingly blasé attitude. I didn't have the energy to whip up another confrontation by myself.

'Sure. Whatever. After math.'

I turned my phone off and closed my eyes.

There would be no phone sex in this house tonight.

I was running alongside Tyce, but I wasn't talking to him. I could barely even look at him.

“What are you doing after this?” he panted as we paused next to our favorite water fountain. I swept my braid aside and leaned over, tasting the cool water on my lips as I tried to decide how to respond to that.

Not having sex with you, my snarky side chimed in. But I was trying not to be that girl anymore. I was trying to handle things in a different way, the way that'd gotten me good grades, good SAT scores, a good scholarship. That stuff worked. The dead squirrel and the lighting crap on fire routines usually only led to more trouble.

“Tea?”

“Studying I guess,” I said with as little energy as I could muster. I didn't want to start a fight, but I wasn't going to stand around and pretend everything was pretty and perfect and okay because it wasn't. I wanted to turn around and shake Tyce by his beautiful shoulders, dig my fingers into his skin and scream why don't you want me?! Because even if I knew I deserved better than him, even if I hated him for leaving my mom to die missing him, even if … he used me and yelled and had anger problems, I wanted him.

I wanted Tyce to be mine. My boyfriend, my lover, my future husband, a someday father to my someday kids. I really, really wanted all of that. But instead, I was going to have to watch him run off and join the NFL, make his millions, marry a sexy blonde cheerleader and forget all about the summer we charted stars in the desert and painted our own maps on cardboard boxes. That sucked. The thought of that made me want to punch him in the face.

“Okay …” he started as I clutched the sides of the water fountain and tossed a glare over my shoulder.

“You can't just decide you're amped up and want to fuck. I'm a person, Tyce. I'm supposed to be your friend. I bet you don't use Kai like that.”

“I don't … fuck, Teagan, is that what you think? That I'm amped up?”

I swiped my arm across my mouth and stepped back, but it didn't look like Tyce wanted any water now. A few seconds later, a group of girls jogged by and cheered for Winship as they passed. As we stood there in the awkward silence, one of them even jogged back and stuck her number in Tyce's hand.

“Call me anytime,” she told him and then she was off, brunette ponytail bouncing.

“Are you gonna call her?”

“Really, Tea?” Tyce snapped, shoving the paper at me. It fluttered to the ground between us. “I won't waste energy fighting anymore.”

“Good, because I'm not fighting. I'm just telling you the truth. If you don't want me, then don't fuck me. Oh, and I'm done with the phone sex stuff. And the sexting. Three times was more than enough. It was three times too many actually.”

“I'm sorry I can't be the man you want me to be,” he said, and I almost screamed. I turned to look at him, the gap between our faces seemingly more obvious out here in the gray fall day that'd settled over the city. I was about to yell at him, about to ask him why even though I knew the answer, when he surprised me. “Teagan, do I give you butterflies?”

“W-what?” I stared up at Tyce, at his eyes, wide open and blue as the river flowing behind me in fits and bursts. I expected a lot of different things to come out of Tyce's mouth, but that wasn't one of them. It was so … cheesy and stupid and amazing all at the same time. When he asked it, I did. I got butterflies. The problem was, my butterflies were scared and nervous and always wondering what was going to happen next. I hated that. “Why?”

“Do you?”

Tyce took a deep breath, closed his eyes. Opened them back up. His lashes were thick and curved and dark, and his mouth … his mouth was beautiful and soft. For a split second anyway.

“Never mind. Forget it.”

His lips hardened into a thin line again.

I stared back, and my mind just went straight into the gutter. I saw him in his football uniform with his ass hanging out and his dick buried inside me, the sweat dripping down his face, my makeup smeared across his lips.

I clenched my hands into fists at my sides.

Tyce didn't get to ask me about butterflies. No. He couldn't fuck me against a cement wall and then do that, not when all he did was fuck me. I wanted more than just fucking.

“Yes,” I said, and then took a deep breath. When I let it out, it puffed in a small white cloud. It was definitely getting colder around here. The thought that Thanksgiving was coming in a few weeks made me feel sad and small. It would be my first Thanksgiving without my mom. My throat clenched up and tears sprung to the edges of my eyes, completely unwanted. I hadn't cried at all back home. Several hundred miles north of my hometown, it was like the wet sky pulled them out of me.

I pushed past Tyce and started walking to the apartment, expecting him to just let me go.

This time, he followed.

I glanced over at Tyce, flickers of yesterday splashing my brain with sex and need and want. I blamed it on the stadium and the crowd and all that energy that was floating around looking for somewhere to land. Heavy hands, hot mouths, his pelvis pressed tight to mine, the smell of sweat, the roar of the crowd. I shivered.

“I've never had it be so awkward with someone after sex,” Tyce told me, an actual shirt draped over his glorious body. It was a little cold to be going shirtless right now. But I could see the hardened points of his nipples and his muscular legs beneath the fabric of his shorts. “Actually, I've never really had an after sex with anybody.”

“So you don't even talk to the girls you use?” I snapped back without thinking. Tyce pursed his lips, but he didn't deny the claim. “I'm sorry for making things so awkward for you, but it's weird for me, too, okay? I only have two awkward times in my repertoire. I was starting to think this was normal.”

“It's not.”

“Not for you, maybe. I want sex to mean something to me. Even if it means something shitty. I want to feel things.”

“You do realize I'm declaring myself for the NFL draft in January, right?”

I didn't respond to that because I didn't know what else to say.

“I'm not finishing my senior year here. I might not ever have a senior year.”

“What does that have to do with you screwing me into the side of Autzen Stadium?” I whispered back, wishing I was home and in my apartment already. I expected a huge row when we saw each other this morning, but this conversation just felt tired.

“I … there are things I need to do, Teagan. Assuming I get drafted—”

“I thought you were first pick?” I quipped, pausing at the corner of Leo Harris Parkway and Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard while I waited for the light. Tyce waited beside me, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement made his muscles ripple and flex, turning my own to jelly.

“Counting your chickens before they hatch—especially when it comes to football—is fucked. I could break my spine tomorrow.”

“Don't talk like that,” I told him, but I got his point. Everything was uncertain until it was inevitable. Life sucks. I stared across the street, smiling at a woman as she passed us with her dog and gave Tyce an 'O' with her hands, thumbs and forefingers pressed together. He smiled tightly back at her, but that was about it.

“Love is a trap, Teagan. Not just for me, but for you. For everybody.”

“What's that got to do with getting drafted by the NFL?”

“I'm just saying that even if things seem easy or simple, they're not. They never are. If we got together—”

“—assuming that's something I'd even want—” I interjected. Tyce ignored me.

“You'd, what, stay here while I moved to Seattle or Denver or Green Bay? Or would you quit school and come with me? What would you do while I was at practice all day? Maybe you'd grow to hate me.”

“That would never happen,” I said, but it could. I almost hated him right now. I had hated him after he'd left, for years.

“Maybe you'd get bored with me? Maybe I would? What if I cheated on you, left you, just like my dad and your dad and a dozen other dads whose fucked up kids we went to school with.”

“Those are choices, Tyce. Those men made choices. You have to be confident enough in yourself to know you'd never treat somebody like that.”

As the light changed for us to cross, Tyce looked down at me with those crazy gorgeous eyes of his.

“I've done it before, haven't it? So no, I'm not confident and no, I don't trust myself with you, Teagan. I already told you that you deserve a guy who'll put you first, somebody that loves you more than they love football—or themselves.”

I felt a sharp shock of pain in my chest as I gaped up at him. For a second there, he almost looked like he was going to take it back, apologize, gather me into his arms and whisper I'm sorry.

He didn't.

My heart felt like it was bleeding, flooding my internal organs with liquid. My chest was tight and it was so, so, so hard to breathe.

“I see,” I said, and I did. I got it. And it hurt, and I wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

“Can we just please keep being friends?” he asked, still staring at me. The light changed again and we were forced to wait through a whole other cycle. Tyce's gaze, the way he wetted his lower lip, it all said that friends with him might mean more sometimes. Or not. “I'm going to Utah this Saturday, and I won't have anybody to harass with my text messages if you say no.”

He made himself smile, but it was clearly a forced effort.

“I … don't know,” I said, watching his face collapse into a frown. When I turned and started across the street without waiting for the light, he reached out and tried to jerk me back, but I pulled away from him and sprinted across the pavement.

This time, he didn't follow.

I'm such a goddamn liar, I thought as I stared at the offense in white jerseys, the defense in green. The QBs—including me—were wearing red shirts to let the guys know not to fuck us up during practice. At the moment, we were working on dynamic stretching and lunging before we moved onto sprinting and burst work. Everyone had a ball in their hands; everyone was more focused than me.

At least I knew my body would take care of the work, muscle memory and habit putting me through the motions for now. Anyway, little actual teaching happens on the field. It's mostly about reps and pacing. That other shit happens before or after practice, or in a classroom in the performance center. Thank God. Because right now, I wouldn't be absorbing any of it.

I lied to Teagan. I think. Maybe.

I already told you that you deserve a guy who'll put you first, somebody that loves you more than they love football—or themselves.

Could I have been any harsher? Seriously? Even if that was true, something I wasn't so sure of right now, I didn't have to blurt it out there, watch it settle on her already damaged features and let her fall apart.

That thought haunted me all the way through our two and a half hour practice, into the locker room, outside to Kai's car.

“You want to hit New Intentions up?” he asked me as he unlocked the doors and we climbed in. “A couple girls from my sociology class are heading over there to party, and, Tyce, when I say these ladies are hot, I'm not doing them any justice. All three of them are from Texas, and they've got this southern twang when they talk … and you're not listening to me at all.”

“Not really, no,” I told him, turning in my seat and leaning back against the door as he peeled out of the parking lot like he was on fire. “Do you ever really say anything important when you talk?”

“Fair point. If you were just being a prick, I'd be cool with it. But you're not. You're acting really weird again. I can't tell if you're going to cry or kill somebody.”

“I haven't cried since I was seven,” I told him, and I knew he believed me. Kai ran a hand through his blond hair and raised a thick brow at me.

“So it's her again then, Teagan. Why didn't you tell me you were inviting her to a game?”

“Why should I? She's a friend of mine, practically family. Your cousin comes to like half our games and you don't warn me. You know he tries to get me into bed every time we go out.”

“Considering the effect that women seem to have on you, maybe you should consider going gay.”

“Not women,” I said firmly, know this was pure truth. “Woman. Just the one. I can't figure her out, and I can't figure myself out when I'm around her.” Kai's icy blue eyes stared out the front window as rain started to fall from the sky like God had just torn open a big tarp or something, sent all of it streaming down in a thick wet burst. “We fucked at the game yesterday.”

“You … wait, what?” Kai choked out as he took a turn so hard that I slammed into the glass on the passenger door. Jesus Christ. “When? Where?”

“In the tunnel, after the final whistle.”

Kai blinked several times in shock, sliding his fingers up his stubbled throat.

“Holy shit, Winship. You are boss. How … in full pads?”

“Yup. I made it work,” I told him as he started to laugh. “When it needs to happen, I make it happen.”

Kai continued to laugh at me, but I didn't join in. None of this was fucking funny to me. I reached out and punched him in the shoulder—hard.

“Ow, Jesus. Look, I'm sorry but … that's pretty cool. I never thought to actually pick chicks up during the game. Are you in love with her or something?”

Several heartbeats passed without an answer from me.

“Okay, then. That's a yes.”

“I don't know.”

“Too late, you're already screwed. So you love her, okay. What are you going to do about it? Not go out to the club with me and fuck a hot southern chick, I'm sure. Although maybe that would make you feel better?”

“Or make me feel like I'm kicking Teagan in the ovaries. The thing is, I don't want to fuck anyone else.”

“I've noticed. Have you been celibate since you ran into that girl or something?”

I gave him a look that said this was a subject better left dropped. He ignored me. The perks of being an only child, I guess. Technically, I was one, too, but I was anything but privileged, spoiled and pampered.

“If you like her so damn much, why don't you just, like, date her or something?”

It sounded so stupid simple when he said it like that.

But I was a goddamn idiot first and everything else second.

“Take me to the club,” I told him and watched as he pursed his lips tight in disapproval. That coming from a guy who defined the word slut. I felt a hundred times worse, but I didn't change my mind.

I went to the club; I got drunk; I danced; I let a girl kiss me on the neck in a booth.

I felt sick.

And then I went home and slept in my dorm room—alone.

The next morning after practice, I texted Teagan and asked what she was up to.

'About to head out to Melia's,' she said as I licked the sweat from my lower lip, standing buck naked in the gunmetal gray of the locker room. It took a freaking biometric thumbprint to get in here, yet that did nothing to keep out the trash.

I looked up to find Mason Fenna smirking at me. I returned the look with my darkest glare and debated the merits of beating the shit out of him. It would feel good, but it'd probably get me booted off the team. Or at least suspended. Couldn't afford that with the season winding down, the draft coming up in January. I was this freaking close.

“You have a problem with me or something?” I asked him instead, but he didn't stop smiling, just shrugged his shoulders and pretended like I didn't have a way bigger dick. Spending this much time in a locker room, things were bound to be noticed. I was packing; Mason better pray he was just a late bloomer.

“No problem,” he said, lifting up his hands like I was a goddamn crazy person. Maybe when it came to Teagan, I was? Meanwhile, Kirk stood off to the side with Kai and pretended not to be watching. Okay, well Kirk had enough decency to pretend. Kai, not so much.

“I don't know what your problem with Mason is. I've never seen you two have a thing. Something you're not telling me?”

“Mason's a dick,” I told him, but Kai just shrugged his broad shoulders.

“But so are you, and we still hang out. Besides, dick is only one letter away from Duck.”

“Shut the fuck up, Kai,” I told him, pounding out a message with my thumbs that I wasn't entirely sure I wasn't going to regret. But this weekend, we were headed to Utah for a game, and I felt like I needed to see Teagan before we left. If I didn't, something would break between us. I knew that.

'Can I come?'

I stood there, buck naked, while the guys changed around me, and waited.

'She's the one with a crazy crush on you, remember? And she saw your sex tape.

'Is that a no?'

'It's an if you want.'

'Then I want,' I sent back, tucking my phone into my bag and throwing on my own clothes. A few minutes later, Teagan texted me the address, and I stole Kai's car keys.

I wanted to pick Teagan up, so we'd have time to talk, but I guess she had the opposite idea because she walked to Melia's house before I even left the locker room. When I got there, I didn't even have to knock before the front door was wrenched open and that girl from the Halloween party was smiling up at me.

She was pretty, bronzed skin with dark hair and brown eyes, but it was like there was this gray filter over her—over every girl. I felt myself smiling anyway, a wicked dirty smile that I didn't mean, that pissed Teagan off the second Melia stepped back and she saw me.

“Tyce,” she said tightly, like she was already regretting inviting me over here. The violent lightning was back in her face again, shattered purple and white streaks of hatred. The shock of what I'd said to her was still flittering across her skin, cutting her into a thousand tiny pieces. I'm horrible. I'm so horrible. I'm a monster, and I don't know how to stop.

“We're so excited to have you here,” Melia chattered, welcoming me into the cluttered cave of her apartment. It was packed with stuff, hanging plants from every corner of the ceiling, side by side bookshelves covered in knickknacks, the smell of weed and patchouli mixing in the air. “Teagan's told us sooo much about you. Plus, I mean, we've been watching the games since you became a Duck.”

“Thanks,” I said, but I wasn't really paying attention when she introduced me to another girl, a blonde with dreadlocks hanging halfway to her waist. While Melia talked, I stared at Teagan's fiery red hair frothing around her face. I studied the smoky shadow around her eyes, the lined lips, the burgundy wash of her color of her full, lush mouth. Instead of doing rainbows or vines or galaxies, her makeup was classic night out perfection.

My heart throbbed painfully.

“We were thinking of just hanging out and drinking, maybe smoking a little. But now that we've got a handsome escort, maybe we should go out?” Melia asked, raising her two arched brows at me. Her eyes raked over the unzipped sweater and t-shirt I was wearing like I was made of gold.

“I'm fine hanging out here.” I shrugged my shoulders with my fingers stuck in the pockets. “I partied a little crazy last night anyway.” I watched Teagan for a reaction and noticed her shoulders tightening as she leaned into her phone like she had something really important to do.

“Well,” Melia said, putting her palm on the chest of my white t-shirt. “I won't complain about having the Ducks star QB in my house, that's for sure. Sit down, put your feet up, and I'll get you something to drink.”

“Thanks,” I said as she moved into the kitchen and left me alone with Teagan and the blonde. I studied my childhood friend for a moment, the tight fitting black Ducks tank she was wearing, the way the red strap of her bra hung out the side a little on the right. One leg was propped up on the couch, a pair of black sweats shoved up above her knees, the sneakers I'd bought her on her feet.

If she'd been wearing a skintight dress or a bikini I wouldn't have found her any sexier than I did in that moment.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked as I moved over next to her and plopped down on the center cushion of the lumpy old couch. There were rugs piled all over the floor, covered in beanbags and random chairs. This must be where they all sat to watch the games.

“There's a whole other cushion on that end,” Teagan told me as Melia cursed and the blonde sighed, moving into the kitchen to see what was up. Leaving us alone. I pushed my thigh against Teagan's and waited for her to look up from her phone. She was texting someone, but I couldn't see who.

“Are you pissed at me?” Her face lifted up from her phone like it was in slow motion.

“Are you … joking?” she asked, raising both brows. And then, “oh, no. Not pissed. Just … processing things. It's hard to hear somebody say the things you did yesterday. But I'll get over it. Really, I just need a while.”

“I didn't say those things to hurt you,” I told her, but maybe that was a lie. Maybe I wanted Teagan to get hurt, to run from me since I was too stuck on her to do the same. I knew I couldn't have her, or that I shouldn't, or whatever, but it was impossible to stay away. “I just wanted you to know the truth. You deserve that at least.”

“Why are you even here, Tyce?”

“I thought we'd agreed to stay friends?” I asked, but Teagan just focused even harder on her phone. Her breath was heaving in and out, and her thigh was so warm against mine I was having trouble thinking.

“Bad news,” Melia said, coming back into the living room and moving around to the front of the couch. She was wearing a pair of leggings with frogs on them and a baggy black tee. It was a weird combo for sure. “I forgot that my brother and his friends were here last night. They drank me dry. I'm gonna have to run to the store to grab some more beer. You guys cool with that?”

“Yeah, of course,” Teagan said with a smile, looking up. I wished that smile was for me right now. Shit. “Do you want me to give you some money? I think I have a ten in my wallet.”

“I'll pay,” I said, sitting up and pulling my own out. I grabbed the last few twenties I had and handed them over to Melia with another one of my smug ass smiles, the ones I couldn't control, the ones I tried to used on Teagan the first night I'd run into her. It was a defense mechanism I think, or maybe it was just as natural to me as breathing?

“I'll drive,” the blonde said, twisting her dreads up into a bun on the top of her head. “I need to stop by my place and grab my laptop. If I'm getting drunk, I'm staying the night, and I have some homework I need to get done.”

“You're both going?” Teagan asked, snapping out of her texting daze like she'd been bit. “Should we all just go then?”

“Stay here,” Melia said, shrugging into a Ducks hoodie and smiling. “We'll be right back. Hang tight, and don't get into any trouble.” The blonde gave us a little wave, and then the door slammed shut behind them.

Silence descended like we were in a fucking graveyard.

“Teagan,” I began, but she was already in the process of standing up. I reached over and wrapped my fingers around her arm, tugging her back down next to me. “Please sit down.” She resisted my touch for a moment before slumping back into place with a sigh. When she finally looked at me, our gazes locked and I couldn't pull away. Heat throbbed through me and my cock responded in an instant. If Teagan noticed the growing bulge in my pants, she pretended not to. “Why can't we just hang out? I like hanging out with you, Tea.”

“You really hurt me yesterday, Tyce. You keep hurting me. I can't stop thinking about the way you feel inside of me, the way your hands feel against my skin. My brain hurts, and my heart is always pounding, and my mouth is always dry.”

My own throat tightened up at her words, and I swiped a hand down my face.

Teagan took a deep breath and continued.

“You're my friend, sure, and nothing will ever change that, but when I look at you, all I think about is how temporary this is. I know I'm setting myself up to miss you again.”

Fuck.

I exhaled, heavy and hot.

“When you talk like that, I can't think straight,” I said, putting a hand on her hip. Teagan's mouth parted, that gorgeous red lipstick catching my gaze and holding it. I'd fucked her—twice—but I hadn't gotten to feel her mouth on my cock, hadn't gotten to taste her, hold her. Hell, I'd barely gotten to kiss her. “When you talk like that, I feel like you own me.”

I leaned forward, the fingers of my right hand sliding into the silken strands of her hair.

“Tyce,” she whispered against my mouth. Teagan's eyes slid closed as I leaned into her. “I can't do this again,” she murmured as I put pressure against her lips and she opened up to me, letting me take over her mouth with my tongue. Teagan draped her arms around my shoulders and leaned back, pulling me into her so that I was leaning my weight on my left elbow, positioning my body above hers.

I kept my eyes open at first, watching her face, the emotions that burst across her skin like fireworks. The game was my chance to make this friendship thing really work, cement the type of relationship between us that I said I wanted us to have. I screwed it all up. After that, everything was different. I felt it; she felt it. A mistake made once can be called an accident, but a second time? What does a second time mean?

I closed my eyes and let myself fall into the kiss, working our mouths together until they felt bruised, until she opened her legs and I found myself fitting perfectly between them. This time, I didn't try to rush anything, just enjoyed the sweet fruity taste of her mouth, the way her hands explored my back like they were desperate to learn every swell and dip of my muscles.

I pulled my right hand down, cupped the side of her face and held her with trembling fingers.

I wasn't really sure what I was doing, but when Teagan was around, it was hard for me to remember my goals, to remember the rules. The rules. Rules that I had set between us.

Between Teagan's thighs, it was molten hot, and my cock was rock hard. I thrust my hips against her sweats and she groaned into my mouth, arching against me as I kissed my way down her jaw. I tasted her throat, licked the frantic gallop of her pulse while my right hand migrated to Teagan's breasts, cupped them gently through the fabric.

Her hips moved more frantically against me, the sounds from her throat turning into soft mewling cries as I increased the pressure of my body, moved harder, faster. Her breath was picking up, guiding my movements as I ducked a hand beneath her shirt and felt the velvety soft flesh of her tummy.

Meanwhile, I moved my mouth back to the smeared lipstick, cleaned it off her teeth, memorized the shape of her mouth. Fingers clawed at my biceps, dug into the ink of my tattoos. I let my weight settle fully into her, putting my left arm around her waist as I cupped her ass through her sweats with my right hand.

Frenetic gyrations of our hips pushed us both to the edge until Teagan was yanking on my hair and tossing her head back, groaning and falling into me, surrendering completely as she came from wild dry humping, from well-placed kisses, from the teasing hardness of my cock.

She was still shuddering and shaking when she reached up and slid her hands down the sides of my neck … paused. Let her eyes go wide as she leaned back and started to crawl away from me.

“What's wrong?” I asked as the green of her eyes turned dark, flashed with rage. I sat up as Teagan stumbled off the couch and stared at me with her hands curled into fists. Her red hair was mussy and twisted on her head, her lips wet and tender and bruised. “Teagan?”

The hormones were messing with my head. I stared at her and tried not to get angry as I struggled to figure out what it was that I'd done this time.

“You … what did you come here for today?”

I sat up and raked my fingers through my hair in anger.

“To fucking see you. Why else?”

“To screw me again? To use me?” She reached a hand up and pointed a finger at her neck. “Because it doesn't look like you need me at all, Tyce. Looks like you've already got that covered.”

I put my left hand on my neck and … realized what it was that she was upset about. Last night at the club, when I'd let that girl kiss on me in a drunken stupor, I'd gotten hickeys. A bunch of them. In my rush to get over here, I'd forgotten all about it.

Shit.

“It's not … I didn't sleep with her,” I told Teagan, but her face was flickering with rage and her lips were tight as she glared down at me. “It was some drunken kissing. I was messed up. I'm so confused about this whole fucking thing, Tea. About the park, and the game, and just … seeing you again really changed everything for me.”

“I. Don't. Give. A. Shit. If you can only think about me in terms of how I affect you, then you're the same teenage asshole that ran away from Quaker Park like it was hell on earth. But you know what? It was never hell for me because you were there, because I loved you since I can remember. You talk about that place like it was murdering your soul, but our relationship, you and me, that was nurturing mine. I would've been happy being there with you, Tyce. I would've been happy because we'd be together.”

“Tea,” I started, but she was on a roll and had no intention of stopping.

“It might not seem like a big deal to you, but when we touch, when we … do things together, I think about it all the time. It hits me right here,” she puts a hand over her heart, “and it takes little pieces away. After the game, I was really messed up, Tyce. I needed you to step up and you basically said sorry, babe, but I don't love you enough. And then, just to rub a little salt in the wound, you … come here with some girl's marks all over your neck.”

I cupped my neck with my palm and tried not to feel ashamed. We weren't together. I didn't owe her anything.

So why did it feel like I owed her everything?

“You can leave now, Tyce. Don't worry. I'm telling you to go this time, so you don't have to feel bad about it. Just get up, and go.” Teagan reached down and picked up her phone, wiggling it at me. “I'm busy anyway. Your friend, Mason, he invited me out, and I think I'm gonna go.”

I stood up suddenly and took several steps towards her. She backed up like I was going to hit her or something which hurt like hell. I would never. Never.

“Stay way from Mason,” I told her, but that was the absolute wrong thing to say.

“Go. Away.” Teagan lifted her chin up and glared at me, red lipstick all around her mouth like blood. I lifted my right arm up and rubbed it away from my own face with a single swipe. “I'm tired of being disrespected. For a split second, just a split fucking second, I thought I would be okay being number two. Or even number three. But I'm not. I'm your last priority and your consolation prize, so go. Get out and leave me the hell alone.”

I was breathing so damn hard, I thought I would fucking puke.

Instead, I did what she said, backed up and turned towards the door.

Melia and Risika chose that moment to walk in.

“We're back, party people!” she shouted before she noticed my face.

“Tyce is leaving now,” Teagan told them firmly, still staring at me when I glanced over my shoulder at her. “And he won't be coming back.”

I reached into Melia's bag and grabbed a six pack, smiling tightly.

“If you don't mind,” I said curtly, storming out the door and down to Kai's car. I drank the entire thing before I pulled out of the parking lot. It's a wonder I didn't fucking die that day.

My heart sure as hell felt like it had though.

As I laid in my dorm room later, one arm over my face, the other curled into a tight fist on my sheets, I thought about Teagan's face. It was the only thing I could think about right now. The surprise, the hurt, the hate. Jesus. What was I fucking thinking? That girl in the club was nothing to me. Literally nothing. And yet, she was everything to Teagan because she was that last push, the straw that broke the camel's back. I'd been pushing Teagan away, but she'd wanted this to work so badly, she'd been refusing to step back.

Now, she was running in the opposite direction, something I knew with all my heart that I deserved.

“Jesus Christ, Winship,” I growled aloud, running both my hands down my face. I'd really thought I'd found the Teagan hack. I thought I could have my cake and eat it, too. What a goddamn idiot.

I'd finally realized that I couldn't forget about her, not when she was so close, just a hop, skip, and a drive away. When I had her number and could text her, when I knew she'd answer me right back. But I'd also been thoroughly convinced that if I let myself, I'd go too far. I'd want her for myself, and I'd make her mine and one of two things would happen. Either she'd screw up my career, everything I'd worked for, or worse, I'd screw her up by always putting her in second place.

Looked like I'd been right about that.

This was a serious lose-lose situation.

But I'd really thought I'd found it: a way to be with her and stop my mind from constantly obsessing. Friends. We could be friends. We could run together in the park, send each other stupid memes, share Snapchat videos. For the first time in my entire life, I'd felt whole, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. I just hadn't realized it until now.

Until I'd thrown it all away.

I dropped my hands to my sides and stared up at the ceiling. Friendship with Teagan wasn't going to work, was it? If I wanted her, I had to commit. But I couldn't do that. And even if I could, I'd probably blown it. As of right now, she didn't want a damn thing to do with me.

I was convinced that this was the worst that could happen to us.

Until that night at the club.

I should've known this thing with me and Teagan would only get worse before it got better.

TYCE: 'I'm really sorry, Teagan.'

ME: 'It's too late for that. You've run out of sorry's, Tyce.'

TYCE: 'I wish you'd just talk to me.'

ME: 'I wish you cared enough to treat me with respect.'

Skype call. Rejected.

Phone off.

This time, I was serious.

I'd given Tyce like a hundred chances. I kept, I don't know, waiting for him to look at me and say that he loved me, that he wanted me, that we could stop playing games and just be together. I should've known from that first moment I saw him in the park that things weren't going to go my way.

I shuffled through the pictures on my bed, looking at the progression of Tyce from child to teen to gone. All the shots of me after that moment looked different, felt different. My face got thinner and my smile drooped. My hair seemed less red. Or maybe I was just imagining that? I wonder how pictures of me are going to look now?

I scooped the photos back up and shoved them under my pillow with a sigh, putting my face on my forearms. It was stupid to base my entire existence around Tyce and my feelings for him, but that's how I felt I'd been living my life for the past month and a half. And now, after that embarrassing situation back at Melia's, things didn't seem any better.

How dare he. How. Fucking. Dare. He.

Kiss me, hold me, say weird things about how I owned him—as if that meant anything—and know that the whole time he had these marks from some other girl on his neck. Somebody else, some random nobody, was allowed to touch Tyce like that? He felt like he belonged to me, and it made me sick. I was stupid jealous, and I was mad, and I was hurt. I knew it wasn't that big of a deal—I believed him when he said he didn't sleep with her—but yet … it was. While I struggled and fought against my attraction for him, while he jerked me around like a puppet on a string, he thought it was okay to go out and casually do whatever with whoever.

Nope.

Nope, nope, nope.

At least he's a whole eight hundred miles away right now, I told myself as I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. The Ducks were in Salt Lake City, playing the Utah Utes, and I was enjoying a little casual text flirtation with Mason Fenna. I knew that I was only doing it because of Tyce, because he'd pissed me off, and because he'd had the audacity to tell me who I could and couldn't date, but it was fun.

Mason was silly, and his texts helped me fight the urge to keep exchanging messages with Tyce. When I'd powered my phone back on last night, I'd noticed he hadn't sent anything else since our brief conversation on Wednesday.

'You okay?' this from Melia. I'd left right after Tyce had, but before I'd gone, she'd seen my face and known that something had happened. I didn't have the stomach to tell her what that was. It was more than just hickeys though, it was everything.

'Still alive,' I sent back with a smiley face. We'd seen each other yesterday in class, but my mind had been completely elsewhere and she'd known it. 'How's the game?'

'Oregon, 37-20. Tyce is killing it.'

Of course he was. I frowned and dropped the phone back on the bed. There was a part of me that wanted to hear he was getting creamed, that even if the team was winning, Tyce was fumbling the ball and going offsides and screwing up his passes. I wanted to see some sign that he was upset.

I touched a finger to my lips and closed my eyes, feeling those warm, heady kisses as he pinned me to the couch, ran his hands over my body, rubbed our hips together and put enough pressure on my clit that I actually had an orgasm.

If I hadn't seen the hickeys then, if we'd kept going, what would've happened?

When you talk like that, I feel like you own me.

Tyce was this close to admitting something, to opening up to me.

But I'd given him a hundred chances, and he just kept screwing up.

I guess I'd never get to find out what that something was going to be.

'We're still on for tomorrow, right?'

It was a text from Mason, sitting unanswered on my phone. I sneaked a peek at it while I was sitting at my desk, working on a paper for my technical writing class. Of course, when I peeked at the phone, it wasn't really Mason that I was looking for. It was Tyce. Of course it was Tyce.

I wanted him to try harder, apologize more, fight to have a relationship with me the way I'd been fighting to have one with him. And then I wanted to turn him down. I wanted him to feel the pain I was feeling, the desperate reach of my heart as I held my hand out to him and he let it drop.

He told me that he didn't love me enough—and then he proved it.

I sighed and pulled the phone into my lap. My paper wasn't writing itself and somehow, I didn't feel like I was going to be able to write it either. So I put my thumbs to the keys and typed up a quick response.

'Absolutely!' The word felt so false, like I was telling a lie, spinning a story, instead of just agreeing to go to New Intentions with a friend. A friend that definitely wanted to be more than friends. But, like with Tyce, I was sure the more would only go as far as sex. I didn't see Mason as boyfriend material. And maybe that's okay. Maybe that's all you need right now—a random hookup.

That felt like a bunch of bullshit.

I was in love with Tyce.

I didn't want to be, but there was nothing I could do about that. If four years apart hadn't killed my feelings, if disrespect and unrequited love hadn't, then nothing would. I was just going to have to learn to live with that.

'I can pick you up at seven-thirty?' Mason texted back as I checked Tyce's Snapchat and Facebook and found nothing new. Nothing. Not a single post. I hadn't spoken to him since late Wednesday. It was Monday now.

I slid my hands down my face and sent Mason a thumbs-up before getting out of my chair and moving into the living room. Jia was having another party, blasting “Work From Home” by Fifth Harmony, and Chelease was on the phone with the cops again. It felt like some seriously hardcore déjà vu. I paused and stared at the back of Chelease's head as she complained to the operator about how many times she'd called and how little they'd ever done for her.

“Are they coming?” I asked as she hung up and stormed over to the front door, jerking her purse off the coat rack on the wall, the one that was made out of metal pipes. I hated it. When Chelease turned her dark brown eyes on me, I figured out what the answer was going to be.

“What do you think?” she said, slipping into her coat and tossing her phone inside her purse. “I'm going out. I can't deal with this crap tonight, I'm sorry.”

And then she was out the door and moving down the stairs. I kept it cracked and watched her walk to her minivan—yes, Chelease had a minivan. My fingers curled around the doorjamb as my phone buzzed in my hand.

'It's a date, beautiful,' Mason said, sending me a selfie shot of him in thick dark shades, a smirk sprawled across his lips. He was shirtless, too, but it didn't do anything for me. Nothing. I made myself stare at it for several minutes. Nope. Still nothing.

I flicked my thumb across the screen and went back to Tyce's texts, his video. Butterflies. Even after all the shit he'd pulled. I groaned and put my forehead against the wood of the doorjamb as the music next door changed to something I didn't recognize. Maybe I should go over there, I wondered as I stared down at the screen and tried not to get upset. I'd been upset for days. I hadn't cried though. Points for me. But still, Tyce was in charge of me anyway. Screw it, I'm going.

I stood and walked out the door, pulling it shut behind me and moving over to the open door of Jia's place. I wasn't sure, but I thought maybe she hated me. Oh well. With the number of people crammed into her place—a literal mirror image of my own—I doubted she'd even notice me.

I stepped inside to a sea of gyrating bodies, beer, pot. The usual. Nothing special.

“Well, look who it is,” Jia said, her voice barely audible over the blare of music from her Bose. I turned to look at her, standing in the hallway, her face painted up like she was wearing stage makeup. It was too much. I wanted to grab a tissue and dab some of it away. “What are you doing here? Did Chelease call the cops again?” she asked as she sauntered towards me in red vinyl heels and black leggings. “Or are you here to be her ambassador?”

“I just wanted to stop by and check things out,” I said with a smile. The way she was looking at me, like she was a viper and I was a mouse, I didn't like that. I might be putting on a good show, doing my schoolwork, saying no to the pot, but that didn't mean I was going to roll over. Not for Tyce, and certainly not for Jia. “Is it okay if I have a beer?”

Jia smiled wickedly at me, putting a hand on her hip as she looked me over in my new Ducks gear. Everyone else in the room was trashed, laughing and dancing and having a good time. That's all I wanted to do. Lose myself for a second. Was that so much to ask? I couldn't let Tyce steal all my fun.

“I didn't think you'd want to see me,” she said as she moved over and pushed some red hair back from my face. We were about the same height, but with heels on, she towered over me by several inches. “I mean, after what happened with your boyfriend and everything.” Jia looked me up and down and raised a curved brow. “You're still wearing his colors, so I'm guessing you guys made up?”

“I don't have a boyfriend,” I told her, my heart thumping and sputtering as I tried to keep my mind off of Tyce. Yeah, I'd seen him cupping Jia's ass, making out with her. So what. He didn't feel anything for her. Nothing for me either apparently. But I knew that wasn't entirely true. Tyce … wanted me even while he was running from me. He wanted me, just not as much as he wanted a career in the NFL. Not that I could understand how football and I were mutually exclusive.

“Seriously?” she said, grinning with her bright red lipstick. It matched her shoes. “Because Chelease was telling me you guys spend a lot of time together. I just figured you were a thing.” I pursed my lips. Even though she hated Jia with a passion, Chelease's gossip was notorious.

“Not really,” I said with a shrug. Really, I just wanted her to leave me alone so I could grab a beer. Somebody had started “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot and I was ready to get lost in some old school hip-hip. Jesus, please, I just need a break from everything.

“That's good then,” she said, stepping back from me. “Because I felt real guilty when we were getting hot and heavy at the club.”

A chill skittered down my spine.

“So you're not mad that we hooked up?”

I just stood there staring at Jia Yang with my heart pounding and my stomach twisting into knots. She could see it, too. I could tell by the way the corner of her mouth twisted up and her eyes roved over me from head to toe. I had no idea why she hated me, but it was clear that she did—and that she was really enjoying this.

“You … made out,” I said, because I didn't believe Tyce would lie to me. “You didn't hook up.”

Jia rolled her eyes and shook out her thick, dark hair with her nails. Those were red, too.

I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach.

“I don't know what he told you, only what I did,” she said to me as I blinked slowly several times and tried to fight back that old anger, the kind that had gotten me into so much trouble back home. I was just like Tyce sometimes, full of pent-up rage and frustration. I'd just learned how to control mine. Mostly. Usually.

“Yeah, you had a drunken kiss, left some hickeys on his neck. Big deal. But don't go bullshitting people and acting like you actually fucked him.” I was taking some of my anger at Tyce out on Jia, but I didn't care. She was baiting me right now, and I was falling for it on purpose. “He wouldn't do that to me.”

Uh-oh. I'd just played my card, put my beating heart right in Jia's long, spindly fingers.

She laughed at me, seriously laughed and gave me another once-over. Clearly, she was not impressed. Maybe this all went back to that night on the balcony when he'd stopped kissing her because of me, hopped the balcony and left. I knew he hadn't been back since. Still, how could he? At the club with her? Really? HER?

“Tell yourself whatever you want, girl. But you don't have an exclusive ticket to Tyce's game.”

She smirked at me with her glossy red lips, and I just snapped.

I shoved Jia with both hands, sending her crashing into the wall behind her. But I guess she was used to this kind of thing because she was on me in a second, shoving me back, knocking me to the ground when I tripped over a stray beer bottle.

“Stupid bitch,” she said as she looked down at me. I knew my fight wasn't with her. It really, really wasn't. It was with myself and Tyce and my feelings and our past. But that didn't stop me from standing up and slapping her open palmed across the face. Jia lunged at me then, raked her nails down my arms as we grappled and stumbled over solo cups while the dancing stopped and the music kept playing in the background.

Nobody tried to stop us. They were all too drunk and high to care. In fact, I think they liked it.

People started cheering as I pushed Jia onto the couch and straddled her lap. I heard my name chanted the way people chanted Winship at a football game. When I hit Jia, it was hard. As hard as I could. I felt her lip split beneath my knuckles, but I didn't stop. I hit her again. And again. And again.

When strong arms wrapped my waist and pulled me back, I flailed around, elbowed a taut belly full of muscles.

“Teagan.” It was Tyce, holding me up, yanking me back while Jia whimpered and rolled onto her side, holding her nose. “Teagan, stop it.”

I jerked myself away from Tyce, from the steel bands of his arms and stumbled outside to the porch. He followed right after me.

“Go away, Tyce,” I whispered harshly, struggling to catch my breath. I could go to jail for what I just did. And I kind of deserved it, too. I could lose everything over this. Everything. “Haven't you done enough?” I stood up and swiped my arm across my mouth. I hadn't thought Jia had gotten a hit in, but there was blood on my lips, too.

“What the fuck are you doing? Since when do you beat girls up?”

I whirled on him, standing there in a leather jacket and jeans, looking stupidly handsome. But he also looked tired and frustrated and disappointed all at the same time.

“Since when? Since she baited me with the news of your club hookup.”

“Hookup?” Tyce asked as I shook my head and moved over to the front door of my apartment. I wrenched it open and tried to go inside, but Tyce was right there, following after me. He slammed the door behind us while I dribbled blood across the carpet and ran into the bathroom. “I didn't hook up with anyone. I told you, it was just some fucking kissing. I was so drunk, I hardly remember it. Kai told the girl off and dragged me back to the dorms. Nothing happened.”

I leaned over the sink and swept hair away from my face, splashing cold water against my throbbing lips. When I glanced up, I saw that both top and bottom were split. My eyes were huge, pupils dilated. I should've stayed here and finished my paper. And I would have. If it wasn't for him, for the things he did to me.

“Kissing is something, Tyce. Hickeys are something. Picking up girls at a club is something.”

“I'm sorry, Teagan.”

“YOU ARE OUT OF SORRY'S!” I screamed at him, spinning and pointing a finger at his chest. “Out. Of. Them.”

“I'm a stupid fucking idiot, Tea. I'm selfish, and I make mistakes. Mostly with you.”

“I don't want to be your friend, Tyce.”

“Tea—”

“Get out,” I snapped at him, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. He could've stopped me if he wanted, but he moved back anyway. His sapphire eyes were dark, flashing with anger that curled his hands into fists. “If you don't want me, fine. But stop parading that fact in front of my face.”

“But I do,” he said, like he was pleading with me. With himself? I wasn't sure, but I didn't care anymore, especially not at the moment. “Teagan, I fucking do, but I don't … I'm figuring this all out too late.”

“Go home,” I whispered as blood tainted my mouth with a coppery metallic taste. “I'm not your third place prize, Tyce.”

“I don't … I don't think you are,” he said, but he didn't sound sure of himself at all. “After you kicked me out of Melia's, I had a lot of time to think. Tea, all this time, trying to make sure you weren't holding me back, I was holding you back. I was pushing you away because I knew,” he touched a hand to his chest, “I knew that if I let you in, you would be number one. You're my number one above everything. Above me. Above fucking football.”

I stared at him as he reached out and brushed some blood from my lip with a thumb. He was saying nice things, but he sounded like he was asking questions instead of giving statements. And he'd kissed Jia Yang at the club. And he didn't even respect me enough to stop leading me along but keep pushing me back.

I didn't know what to do.

“What are you saying?” I asked as I took a step away from him and put my back to the wall. Next door, the music continued to throb. Tyce stared back at me, searching my face, his eyes narrowed in thought, his hands shaking.

“I don't know,” he said, and that was it. It wasn't good enough for me. Not after this fucking rollercoaster he'd put me on. Like I said, I was tired of maybes and dunnos and not sures. I wanted a happy ending, and I wasn't afraid to ask for it. I needed it, especially from him.

“I know we're only kids,” I said, because that was true, whether we wanted to believe it or not. “But I can't do this with you. If you were any other guy, someone I'd met at orientation or something, I wouldn't be asking this. But you're not. And I'm not. And you know that.” I took a deep breath. “If you want to be with me, you have to say it. And mean it. And own up to it.”

There was a long pause and then the front door opened, Kai spilling into it.

“Hey, the cops are here,” he said with gritted teeth. “They busted somebody with meth next door. And they know about the fight. We have to go now.”

Kai looked at me and then raised his brows at the blood on my face.

“Sorry, Teagan,” he said. “But this is like, life or death for us right now.”

Tyce looked back at me, and we stared at each other for a long, agonizing moment before I turned away, went into my room, and slammed the door.

When I came out to talk to the cops thirty minutes later, he was gone.

I shouldn't have left Teagan.

I knew that as soon as I'd set foot in the dorm. But when I tried to go back, Kai refused to give me his keys. He even tossed them into the bushes and locked me out of my room. I had no wallet, no bus pass, no way to get to Teagan except to walk. I'd decided to search for the keys instead, but by the time I found them, she was sending me a text.

'No assault charges. Cops didn't even ask.'

I sat down on the grass with the keys in my lap and texted her back, my heart thudding and my mouth dry, tongue thick. I felt so fucking sick. Everything was just … I felt like I was falling apart. I'd had days to think about Teagan and me, just spin the memories and thoughts around inside my skull until I felt dizzy.

'Thank God, Tea. I shouldn't have left. I'm coming back right now.'

I still couldn't believe she'd beaten that girl up for me. Holy hell. The rage on her face, the blood on her lips, the wild look in those eyes … I needed Teagan. I needed her, and I had no clue what to do about it. I was fucking trying in her apartment, and it wasn't enough. I had to be stronger, better. I had to fight for her the way I fought for football all these years, claw my way to the top.

I groaned and put my head in my hand for a minute.

I'd gone over there to … something. Talk, I guess. And then I'd found her straddling another girl, pummeling her face into a bloody mess. I think that was when it really clicked. I was steering my life in the direction I wanted it to go, all the while pulling Teagan off course. I was wrecking her.

But I loved her.

I fucking loved her.

I gritted my teeth as a new text came in.

'Dear God, please don't.'

Just that.

I wanted to tell her that we could be together, that we could make this work. It scared the shit out of me. I was afraid of love, of complacency, of things falling apart and tainting the feelings between us. I was terrified of losing my chance in the NFL, of living a worthless, thankless life like my mom. I was absolutely stricken at the thought of being at someone else's mercy again, the way I'd been at the hand of my foster mother's.

I should've trusted Teagan more than that.

Why couldn't we date? Why not take her to the NFL with me, if she'd go? If not, then I guess we'd figure things out as they happened. All of this, this life I was conjuring up for myself, the future career and the money and the security, there was only one woman I'd ever want to gift those things to. Teagan deserved it, and I wanted to give it to her.

Twenty-one years old, and I thought I knew shit.

Hah.

But we were always destined for each other, I think. I just had to figure out how to say it, to mean it. Once again, tonight, I'd had a chance to stay, to risk something happening with the cops, risking the consequences rippling out into the team. I should've stayed. I'd needed to stay to prove myself to her. And I'd left. Again.

I couldn't seem to stop doing it.

'Please, Teagan. What I was saying, it's important. It can't be said via text or phone. Has to be in person.'

No response. I sat outside on that lawn for an hour and got nothing.

When I finally gave up, climbed into Kai's car and drove over to her place, she refused to answer the door. When her roommate finally cracked it, the chain still in place, and threatened to call the cops again, I sat down and started texting Teagan.

'If you just let me talk to you again, we can figure this out.'

Nothing.

'I have so many thoughts running through my head right now. I need your help. I need you.'

Two hours later, still no response.

I fell asleep on her doorstep and woke up to the alarm on my phone.

In the dew coated morning, I climbed to my feet and headed to practice.

I was miserable afterwards, slamming my locker closed and putting my forehead against it as I tried to breathe. Both the quarterback coach and our head coach, Deryl, had called me Number Eight all day. Not a good sign. I was fucking up bad.

Apparently, it wasn't Teagan being in my life that screwed up my game; it was wondering if she was going to fall out of it again.

“Goddamn it, man. What the hell?” Kai asked as he came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I shrugged him off and stood up, mussing my hair up with my left hand. I glanced over at Kai's rugged viking face, all twisted up in concern for me. It was almost touching. “What is wrong with you? Is this about Teagan again?”

I shrugged my shoulders, unwilling to talk about this in the locker room.

Mason was looking this way, listening. Teagan had said he'd asked her out, but I knew she hadn't gone anywhere with him. Yet. I was terrified of seeing what would happen if they actually went on a date. Maybe she would sleep with him to get back at me? Just to experiment with another guy and see what it was like? Maybe because she didn't owe me shit and she had every fucking right to do it?

Again, maybe I should've trusted her more.

“I don't want to talk about this right now,” I told Kai, but he wasn't done.

“You didn't come back to the dorm last night. Where the hell were you? I had to bum a ride off Kirk.” I gritted my teeth, but I didn't retaliate. I kind of wanted to punch him, but decking my best friend in the face wasn't going to do shit for me.

I sat on the white bench in front of the lockers again, a towel draped around my hips.

“I'm sorry, Kai. I … had shit to do.”

“If this is about Teagan, man, then the only person you have to blame for this crap is you. If you like the girl that goddamn much, please do us all a fucking favor and just stop fighting it. For Christ's sake, if I was as obsessed with a woman the way you are with that girl, I'd probably ask her to marry me.”

Mason laughed. Seriously. He laughed at that.

I looked up, stood up, the towel falling to the floor around me. I would fucking kill him naked if I had to. I swear to God. I stared across the locker room into his dark eyes and watched the smirk take over his mouth. He'd whooped my ass in practice today, and he was loving every second of it.

“Are you laughing at my fucking friend?” I asked, gesturing with my chin at Kai.

“No,” Mason said as he sauntered over to us. “I was laughing at you.”

“Yeah, for real though?” I asked, getting close. Mason was only five eleven, so I had a few inches on him—in several different areas. “You want to go there?”

Mason shook his head at me like I was an idiot. Clearly, I fucking was, but I sure as hell wasn't going to take any crap from this guy. There are cameras in here, Tyce. If you really want to work on this thing with Teagan, you need to keep things calm. Getting with her and then getting kicked off the team would be like a double slap in the face. She deserves safety and security and sneakers without holes in them.

I stepped back and Mason grinned.

“I didn't know you were that into Teagan. I guess it's not the same for her?”

“The fuck are you talking about?” I asked as I forced myself to keep walking away, to head back to my locker and the pile of clothes on the bench next to it. I was going to get dressed, find Teagan, work on this thing. I'd search for her everyday if I had to. If she was going to reject me, she'd have to do it in person.

“Well,” Mason said, picking up a football off the bench and tossing it between his palms. “We had a standing date for tonight. When I texted her this morning to confirm, she said she was still on.”

I felt my muscles go rigid, turning my entire body to stone.

“Tyce,” Kai cautioned, putting his hand on my arm. “Don't.”

“You'd best cancel that date,” I told him, but I knew the person I had to talk to was Teagan, not Mason. If she wanted to go out with him, I couldn't stop her. I picked up my jeans, yanked them on. Threw my shirt over my head.

“Yeah, I don't know,” Mason said as he turned and I gave him a look over my shoulder. He was still smiling at me. “If Teagan wants to go out, I guess I'm taking her, you know? She's seriously fucking hot.”

“If you touch her, I'll kill you,” I told him, and I think I meant it. Kai groaned and Mason raised his eyebrows at me.

“Is that a threat, Winship? Because if it is, I could have you arrested for that.”

“It's a figure of speech,” Kai said, stepping between us as I turned and faced Mason. “Just relax guys, okay?”

“I don't have time for this crap,” I said, shoving my feet into my sneakers. For the past month and a half, I'd been dicking around with my feelings, with Teagan's. I'd been running from the same thing I was chasing. And now, suddenly, it felt like there was this huge clock above my head, ticking away the seconds, like if I didn't get to her right now I would lose her forever. I knew it was bullshit, but I couldn't shake the urgency. “Can I take your car again?”

Kai sighed, but he didn't protest when I pulled his keys from my pocket and jangled them.

“Try to get your shit together today, Tyce. We have the Civil War game on Saturday, and you know that's a big one. You cannot blow that shit.”

“Got it,” I said, pushing past him and heading for the door before Mason could open his mouth and start something again. If he did, I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't knock the teeth out of his face.

Teagan was gone when I got to her apartment, and her roommate wouldn't tell me where she was. Hell, she could've been hiding in her bedroom for all I knew, but when I went around the side of the complex and looked up at her balcony, I could see inside. Unless she was hiding in the closet, she wasn't in there.

“Shit.”

I texted her and asked her to call me back, but obviously something had broken in her last night, just snapped in half. I'd cracked through the careful shell she'd shaped around herself, lit the fire in the angry little girl from the trailer park, the one I'd grown up right alongside of.

She was pissed at me.

And not in the way she'd been during the last few weeks, but old Teagan pissed, the Teagan that'd visited me in the shed in Jackie's backyard, who'd stuffed a rag in her exhaust pipe, who'd thrown darts at a picture of her father's face. When that Teagan got mad, things happened. People paid for it.

I waited in the parking lot at her apartment complex until evening practice, but still, nothing. No texts, no appearances, no word.

I punched Kai's steering wheel and cursed under my breath, heading back to the field with my heart hanging out of my chest, dangling by thin strings that spurted blood and blinded me. I couldn't freaking think straight.

So I threw myself into practice with a vengeance, working up a monsoon of sweat, forcing my coaches to call me by name. No more Number fucking Eight. Not tonight.

Mason watched my every move, smirking at me, shadowing me.

So afterwards, when he climbed into his red Range Rover and took off, I followed him.

And I wasn't the least bit ashamed of that.

If Teagan didn't want me to bother her, I wouldn't. But at least this time, I could show her that I wasn't running away. Not anymore.

I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I was over Tyce. I wasn't. I loved him. I hated him.

I beat the crap out of Jia Yang—and I didn't get in trouble for it. After the cops broke up Jia's party, they knocked on my door and I thought I was done for. But they only wanted to talk to Chelease, who wasn't home yet. They thanked me and left.

That was it.

When I'd run into Jia before class this morning, she'd glared at me, flipped me off, and sauntered down the steps like her face wasn't busted up and bruised. I didn't know how to feel about that. All I knew was that I'd lost it. Completely and utterly lost it. Because of Tyce.

I knew that if I let you in, you would be number one. You're my number one above everything. Above me. Above football.

What the hell was I supposed to do about that? How was I supposed to feel about Tyce flipping a switch on me? Or maybe he hasn't, I thought to myself as I sat in the library with a duffel bag next to my chair. It was stuffed with borrowed clothes from Chelease and a healthy supply of makeup for my evening out. Maybe he's just realizing how he really feels?

Hah.

I stared at the white screen on my laptop, my partially written paper. It was due tomorrow, but I had a feeling I wasn't going to get it done and that freaked me out. Tyce had an NFL career coming his way, but that didn't do a damn thing for me. I had to get good grades, make a life for myself that my mother would be proud of. If I let Tyce hold me back, then the only person I was screwing over was myself.

I took a deep breath and tried to focus on my work, shutting off thoughts of Tyce as best I could. But his words last night … it was like he'd finally figured out what to say but had no idea how to say it. And then he'd bailed on me. After all of that.

I slid my tongue across my split lower lip and closed my eyes.

If I wanted to go out with Mason tonight, I needed to get this work done. The thing was, I didn't know if I really did want to go out with Mason. When he'd texted me this morning to confirm, I'd given him the go ahead, asking him to pick me up at the library instead of my place. I couldn't exactly go back to my apartment without risking bumping into Tyce. According to Chelease and the flurry of unread text messages I'd received from Tyce, he'd spent the entire night sleeping on my porch.

It was almost cute.

But then I thought of his flip-flopping bullshit, of him fucking me at the game and running away, of letting Jia kiss his neck at the club, making me come with her hickeys all over his neck.

I wanted to talk to him—eventually—but I needed some time. I had no idea how much, but right now, with the way I was feeling, I just couldn't do it. I didn't plan on sleeping with Mason or anything tonight, but I could go out and have a good time, dance, have a few drinks.

I just hoped I didn't see Tyce at the club.

I shook my hands out and refocused on my paper.

One step at a time, I told myself as I started typing. Just take this one step at a time.

At seven o'clock, I closed my laptop and headed into the women's bathroom to change.

Tonight, I was going to wear a flirty little red lace dress with a plunging V-neck—and a really supportive bra. It was another one of Chelease's little sister's dresses, part of a box of clothing she'd left when she'd moved out. I was glad for it though because Chelease was several inches taller than me, thinner, smaller breasts. I never would've fit in her clothes.

I slipped into the dress and then pulled out my flat iron, straightening my hair and then using it to twist some loose curls. A quick dusting of hair spray and they should hold most of the night.

I stared at my reflection as I primped, looking at my swollen and split lips, the small scar on my forehead. Today, I wasn't getting dressed for Mason or even Tyce. I was making myself look nice for me. Because I deserved to feel good after last night, after the last several weeks dealing with Tyce's bullshit.

In the past year, I'd lost my mom, graduated high school, left my hometown for good, found my childhood best friend, lost my virginity, had my heart broken. It was a lot to deal with. I just needed a night to regroup, have some fun and let my mind unwind. I was sure that as soon as it did, I'd find a way to talk to Tyce. I wasn't sure what I'd say or what he'd say, or even if I'd want to keep hanging out with him, but I had to try.

Again.

A hundred chances. A thousand. He was breaking me and I didn't know how to say no to him because he was also the only thing that ever made me feel whole. He was the best part of my past, and somebody I desperately wanted in my future.

I took a deep breath, calmed my rapidly beating heart, and leaned forward to start my makeup. Concealer, foundation, powder, brows. I did the boring stuff first and then picked out three different eye shadows—one dark, one medium, one light. I used the dark—a gorgeous hunter green—to line my upper eyelids. With the medium, I shaded the crease, saving the light shadow for under my eyebrows. A rich red-brown liner and mascara followed next, drawing all the focus to the sideways teardrop shape of my eyes. I softened the look with a pale pink blush and a pop of bright red lipstick, just dark enough to hide my split lips.

When I was done, I grabbed my mother's Prada clutch and gave a little twirl in the mirror.

Despite what I'd done to Jia last night, how angry I was at Tyce, how confusing this all was, I felt good. Calmer. Like I'd already been through the worst of it.

“Things can only go up from here,” I told my reflection. An easy night out, a few drinks, and some dancing. It was all I could ask for.

Mason was right on time, climbing out and opening the passenger side door on his Range Rover for me.

“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.”

“Shut your mouth, bitch. What'd you think, that I'd bring you all the way out here for nothing?” He reached up and cupped my breast, making my head spin with another bout of dizziness. His touch was horrible, groping and uncomfortable. Unwanted. “I'm going to fuck you so hard you can't even stand. What do you think Tyce will think about that, huh? Will he still want you when he finds out what a whore you are?”

“Stop it,” I growled, my body shutting down on me in a scary sort of a way. I've been drugged. He drugged me. I could feel that something was wrong, but I was powerless to stop it. “Get off of me!”

When he didn't listen, I mustered up every last ounce of strength I had and tore my right wrist from his grip, slapping him across one cheek. I'd meant to punch him, but I was starting to droop down the wall again, my consciousness flickering in and out. In retaliation, Mason backhanded me as hard as he could, cracking my vision with white hot stars and blood. It filled my mouth, dripped down my nose as he hit me again. And again. And again.

Just like I'd done to Jia.

But worse I think. Much, much worse.

By the time he reached under my skirt, sliding his hand up my thigh, I was just about gone, on the verge of passing out.

That's when I heard the footsteps. That's when I knew.

I knew.

I sat in Kai's car for hours waiting for Teagan and Mason to come outside. I didn't know how I felt about our encounter, if it'd gone well or not. It was fucking impossible to tell. Teagan had looked about as jumbled up as I felt, and that dick, Fenna, hadn't made things any easier.

I should've decked him when I had the chance, I thought, laying my head on the steering wheel and closing my eyes. I'd only meant to lie there for a second, but when I blinked awake, another hour had passed, and I was thrust into full-blown panic mode. I don't know why. Honestly, I didn't think Teagan was going to do anything with Mason. But for whatever reason, I shoved that car door open and stalked into the club. His Range Rover was still outside, but no one was in it. There was only one place they could be.

It was dark inside, the crowd thinned down as the bar got ready for closing. Tabs were being settled, lights strobed, and yet I didn't see either Teagan or Mason in there. Making a quick dash outside, my sneakers scraping against the pavement, I jogged down the block one way first and then the other.

I was starting to lose hope when I heard a sound, a small sad noise that I recognized with every fucking fiber in my being.

Teagan.

That was Teagan.

I started to panic, to freak as I kept moving forward, searching every nook and cranny for her. At first I thought maybe she'd gotten drunk and stumbled out, but then I rounded the corner and caught a glimpse of two figures pressed tight against an alley wall.

Teagan, with her red hair shimmering under the streetlights. Mason, with his dark oily hair and his shark smile.

There was blood on Teagan's face, on Mason's hand, the hand that was caught up in her skirt. The other was desperately fumbling at the buckle on his black belt. I stared at them for all of a half second, registering every little detail, the way Teagan's eyes drooped and her body slumped, the predatory leer on Mason's face and the pinprick pupils of his dark eyes.

It might not seem like a big deal to you, but when we touch, when we … do things together, I think about it all the time. It hits me right here.

My breath whooshed out of my lungs; my feet started moving.

A walk, a jog, a sprint.

Teagan's eyelids flutter as she turned her head to look at me, a pleading desperation somehow etched into the slack features of her face. Our eyes met as I came up behind Mason, wrapped my arm around his neck and threw him down to the pavement in one single motion. I didn't make a sound, didn't say a word, just made sure that his pants were still on, that Teagan was okay, confirmed in my head that he hadn't gotten far, hadn't managed to actually go through with the rape.

And then I snapped.

As he struggled and screamed, I sat on his chest, using my few extra inches and pounds to my advantage. I put my fists together and then slammed them down on his face. Blood spurted, cartilage cracked, lips split. I didn't give a fuck. I lifted my arms up again, hit him. Hit him. Hit him. Mason was screaming, I think, but I couldn't hear anything above the pulsing pound of my heart.

After everything we went through for you, because of you. Together. We were always together until we weren't.

I smashed Mason's face in, knocked his teeth loose, and then when I was sure he wasn't going to get up, I stood above him, stared down into his dark eyes.

Sound popped around me like a bubble being burst.

“I'm going to fucking murder you!” he screeched, but the sound was warbled and wet and hard to understand. I glanced up at Teagan, slumped to the ground against the wall, shaking. I looked back at Mason, a coldness coming over me that I didn't like, but didn't know how to stop.

Teagan is mine, I thought as I stared at the man on the ground without mercy. I love her. I've always loved her. I'm an idiot, but I want to stop being one. I want to kiss her awake in the morning and make love to her at night. I want to give her everything she never had and then some. I want show her that I can make the right choices, that I can be the man she needs and wants me to be.

I want to prove to her that she is and always has been my number one, even if I haven't shown it.

“Thanks,” I said to Mason, my voice practically unrecognizable. Empty. Dangerous. This was the power that made so good on the field, brought my enemies to their knees, left the Ducks undefeated this season. Here, this feeling inside of me. I wanted to fight and keep fighting. For Teagan. Always for Teagan. “You've just proven to me what I already should've known. I love her.” Mason groaned and rolled on his side toward me. I pushed him back with a sneaker to the chest. “And I won't let anyone take that from me.”

I kicked Mason as hard as I could in the side and he doubled over in pain. Again. Again. And then I moved my foot to his throat, lifted it up, smashed it down. His eyes rolled back in his head and his back arched in agony. I would've kept going; I think I might've killed him honestly.

But then I felt the softness of small hands on my arms, the gentle tug of fingers that should've been as familiar as my own but weren't, not yet.

“Tyce, don't,” Teagan whispered, her voice weak and wavering. Broken. Fading. “Please don't. If you do this, I'll lose you. I can't lose you now.”

I spun to face Teagan, catching her as she fell to her knees against the cement, her red lace dress fluttering around her bent legs. Her head drooped as I picked her up in my arms, a split second before Kai rounded the corner panting.

“Oh my god,” he said when he noticed Mason lying comatose on the ground, breathing blood, shaking. “Oh my god, Tyce.” I looked up at him, Teagan going limp in my arms, and I felt myself start to shake, too.

“Kai,” I said, and my voice sounded detached, like I wasn't even fucking there anymore. “Call an ambulance.”

I sat in the hospital with my head in my hands and shook. I kept shaking until the doctors came out and told me that Teagan was going to be okay, that Mason had dosed her with GHB, some bullshit date rape drug that in the case of an overdose can kill people. He'd come close to overdosing Teagan. Close to killing her.

I stood there in the center of that white room with my eyes glazed over and my hands curled into bloody, bruised fists that I couldn't bring myself to let go of.

Killed her. Dead. Raped her.

Mason almost raped and killed Teagan.

He hit her.

I wished I'd killed him.

I sat back down in the chair after they left, listening to the buzz of the hospital, replaying the doctors' words in my mind. Her face is going to be okay. Nothing is broken. Just bruised and hurting. Bruised and hurting. Bruised. Hurting.

“Tyce,” Kai said, reappearing after a while. Or maybe he never left. He was sitting right next to me. I glanced over at him, at the thick blond stubble on his jaw, his slicked back hair. I wondered why he was there, probably looking for his car. Or for me. Maybe he was actually worried about me? He looked terrified. “Do you know what this means?” he whispered, voice gravelly and hoarse. Scared. But he shouldn't have been. The only thing that I cared about was the fact that Teagan was okay, that she was unhurt. Alive. Whatever happened to me, it didn't matter.

“No more football,” I said, trying to make myself breathe. It wasn't happening. All I could do was stare at the floor and shake.

“Jail,” Kai whispered, reaching out and putting his hand on my shoulder. “Tyce, you could go to prison for this. You almost killed Mason. He's not getting up anytime, and even when he does … he might not play football ever again, dude. You did something to his neck.”

“It's okay,” I told him, even though it wasn't. Not really.

I folded my hands together, put my elbows on my knees, leaned forward.

And tried to breathe. Breathe.

Just breathe.

The hospital sent me home while they held Teagan overnight. I didn't fucking want to leave that place, not without seeing her, but it wasn't actually a request or a choice. The cops came and went, took me with them, made me give a statement.

Reliving the whole thing from start to finish almost killed me.

The blood on Teagan's face. Mason's hand up her skirt on her thigh. His other hand at his belt buckle. If I'd been even a second later … I couldn't bring myself to think about that. So I told them everything over and over and over again, until I wasn't sure whether I was awake and telling them or asleep and dreaming it.

After that, they sent me home with Kai, and I fell asleep in the car.

In the morning, I woke up to a text from Teagan and a dozen missed calls from my QB coach.

I put my priorities in order and left to take care of the most important business first.

“Hey.”

Teagan's roommate opened the door and let me in, shutting it softly behind me. I didn't ask any questions, just started down the hallway towards Teagan's room when a hand on my arm stopped me. I glanced over my shoulder and found the girl—I think her name was Chelease—crying. Tears were rolling down her cheeks in fat, wet drops as she stared at me like I was half-hero, half-villain. I didn't know which one I was supposed to be. I had no clue anymore. All I knew was that I needed to see Teagan, smile at her, hold her, tell her I was sorry for the very last fucking time.

I blew my NFL career for her. Possibly my freedom. She was exactly what I always thought she would be, a vortex sucking me in, pulling me deep, fucking up my life until I didn't know which way was up or down.

And yet … it was worth it.

“Yeah?” I asked, trying not to sound impatient. But last night had been surreal and I was still trying to process everything. Right now, what I needed was to see Teagan.

“I know I shouldn't say this, but … thank you.”

I raised an eyebrow at her as she swept some braids over her shoulder and let go of my arm, taking a step back from me. Her brown eyes lifted, scanned me once, flickered with a grudging approval.

“For saving Teagan. I know it might not seem like a big deal …” Chelease paused and took a deep breath, fidgeting with the white hoodie she was wearing as she stared at her bare feet. “But it is, no matter what happens to Mason Fenna. Shit like that, it cuts into your soul.” She looked back up at me. “And I'm still learning how to heal mine.” A hard swallow, a flicker of lashes as she struggled to maintain her composure. “How to deal with the fact that the guy that raped me goes to this school, transferred here just to torment me. Because he knows that with my tuition already paid, the strain it put on my family, I've got nowhere else to go.”

Chelease lifted her hand up, squeezed my arm one more time and turned away. It took me a second to put the pieces together.

Mason was from Texas; Teagan had told me Chelease was from Texas.

A chill went down my spine as I watched her walk out the front door.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I rushed the rest of the way down the hall and burst into Teagan's bedroom, my right hand splayed open against her bedroom door. She was lying on her side with a bunch of Polaroid pictures scattered around her, gazing at them with a black eye, a swollen mouth and a swollen nose.

I froze there for several seconds as she lifted her green eyes up and caught mine. I had no clue what to say or do, so I just stood there. My heart was pounding in my chest and I felt light-headed, dizzy. The image of Teagan last night, pressed into that brick wall was stuck in my head. I wanted it gone, wanted to break this tension between us, so I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“I didn't know Chelease and Mason—” I started, but Teagan was already sitting up and shaking her head.

“Me neither,” she whispered, reaching a hand up to her puffy face and wincing. “Not until this morning anyway.” Teagan gathered up the pictures, clearing a space for me on the edge of her bed. I had no idea if that was her actual intention or not, but I moved over to her anyway and sat down. My weight caused the mattress to dip, bumping Teagan's shoulder against my own.

My breath hissed out between my teeth at the contact and then I was just turning and wrapping my arms around her, pulling her into my lap and leaning us against the headboard. My right hand was shaking when I reached it up and cupped her head gently, stroked her silken hair with my fingers.

I think we sat like that for a whole hour, neither of us moving or saying anything.

“Tyce,” Teagan said, her voice low but strong, like there was no way in hell this was going to defeat her, break her down, make her feel less than human. “Thank you.”

“Don't,” I said, because I didn't feel like I deserved any thanks. Part of me felt responsible for the whole situation, like Mason was only after Teagan because of me. But who the hell could possibly know something like that? It was stupid to place blame on myself, but I tried to do it anyway. “I don't need any thanks.”

“Yeah, well, when I think about what might've happened if you'd left when I told you to, if I'd been alone with Mason in that alley …” Teagan's body shivered and I pulled her tighter, closer, squeezed her to me and kissed the top of her head. She smelt like antiseptic and shampoo, but it was the sweetest scent I'd ever smelled. Holy crap, I'm turning into a fucking sap already.

But I didn't care.

Right here, now, with the sun streaming in the open window, I felt like this was my last chance to be really happy, to hold her and love her and pretend for a second that I hadn't just gone batshit and almost killed somebody. That I'd definitely get suspended from the team, definitely fucked up my chances of ever getting drafted.

The media needed that blood to be shed, and I'd delivered.

They would crucify me. Mason, too, maybe, but his dad was rich as hell with friends all over the place. I had nobody. Well, I had somebody. The best fucking somebody. But she sure as shit didn't have any pull.

As I held her, I reached down and took the fan of photos from her fingers, lifting them up and examining them. It was like staring straight into a time machine, a rabbit hole. A set of out of focus Polaroids with me, with Teagan, with Venus. I stared at them for a long time before I sucked in another breath. I guess I'd been holding it.

“Would she have been proud of me?” I wondered as I slid the photos together until there was just one on top of the stack, a picture of all three of us together. “Not for beating the ever living crap out of some guy, but for … anything else?”

My heart pounded as I laid there and stared at that shot, thinking of all the decisions I'd made, regretting some of them. But I guess they'd gotten me here, with Teagan in my arms, so it couldn't be all bad.

Teagan sniffled a little and reached out, pulling the pictures from my hand and setting them back on the bed. Tucked up against me like this, with a cold stake of fear still shoved into my heart, it was hard to remember why I'd been so fucking afraid of her. What the hell is wrong with me? I knew we had stuff to work out, that saving her from some piece of shit rapist didn't automatically guarantee us a happily ever after, but at least it was a start. And a start was all we really needed.

“If she'd turned on that TV and found you by accident like I had, Tyce, if she'd seen you in your element with the sun on your back and a helmet on your head and a ball in your hand … I know she would've been like me. She would've been awestruck and proud and excited for you all at the same time. She would've missed you like hell, and if she'd seen you, she would've hugged you until you couldn't breathe.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to get my thoughts in order.

Venus was dead. And I never could make amends with her. I couldn't hug her or thank her for protecting me, going to jail for me, and I couldn't tell her that I loved her.

But there was one other person I could tell that to, and she was sitting right fucking here.

“Teagan,” I told her before I could act like a coward and back out of this or screw things up again, “I love you.” The words came out in a rush, like one single syllable. They almost hurt coming up, but not for the same reasons I'd thought before. It was like they were so long overdue that they were desperate, sliding past my tongue and falling heavy into the air between us. I didn't expect Teagan to say them back, although she kind of already had in her own way.

As the silence settled again, I opened my eyes back up and stared out the window at the leaves of a nearby tree. I figured Teagan was still angry with me, and I couldn't blame her, so I continued to hold her for as long as she'd let me, to listen to the fluttering beat of her pulse.

Teagan swallowed hard and nuzzled into me, sending my heart into a galloping beat, making my fingers curl more tightly around her, squeeze her closer. It was the best feeling in the fucking world—and I'd been stupid enough to run from it.

“I love you, too, Tyce. Even though … we still have a lot to work out.”

My breath caught sharply in relief.

“We do,” I agreed as I closed my eyes again and felt the stress of the night wash over me. I was starting to fall asleep when she whispered against my chest.

“But for now, can you just hold me?”

And so I did.

Tyce and I fell asleep on my bed, curled together though half the night. I registered at some point that he was getting up, but I was too tired and groggy and sore to move. The drug that Mason had slipped into my drink had nearly killed me.

I was still finding that impossible to believe.

One minute, I'd been dancing, smiling, apologizing to that asshole, and the next … I sat up in bed, running my hands down my face and trying not to scream. That feeling of helplessness, it was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Nothing. I'd never felt so low, so sick, so fucking terrified.

Chelease.

I couldn't believe the guy from Chelease's story was Mason Fenna, that he'd followed her to the U of O. What a psycho. A creep. And what Tyce did to him, it was only half of what he deserved.

I started to get up, grabbing my phone off the nightstand and looking for texts from Tyce.

There weren't any.

A few seconds later, I got something even better.

He opened the door and moved back into the room, shutting it softly behind him and reaching up to run his hands down his face. The amount of relief I felt at seeing him was almost criminal. Like he'd run away again after all of that. Doubtful.

I'm still mad at him, I thought, and I kind of was. I mean, he still had that thing with Jia, and he still disappeared for four years, and he was definitely still kind of an asshole, but … it didn't seem like that big of a deal anymore. Teagan, I love you. He'd said it. Said it. Finally fucking said it.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, feeling a little drowsy from waking up in the middle of the night. Outside, the trees rustled with an icy breeze and the orange streetlights cast strange shadows.

Tyce paused, looking up at me like he was surprised to find me awake.

“I'm alright,” he said, but he didn't look alright. He still looked scared, trashed, terrified. He looked like a man who was about to sacrifice himself for the person he loved and, although he'd never regret doing it, the moment was still bittersweet. “I just … I've been ignoring calls from my coaches all day. Texts from the guys. I'm scared to look at them or listen to my voicemail.”

I wrinkled my brows up and sat back against the headboard, twisting the covers up to my chest. I was dressed in a flimsy old white nightgown that was so threadbare, it was almost see through. It's not like you haven't slept together—or texted dirty photos, I thought. But that was different. Tonight, now, it felt … tender. The moment was tender.

It was so much harder to look at Tyce's face.

“You missed a day of practice, so what? Don't they make exceptions for stuff like this?”

Tyce stared back at me with a bitter half-smile on his face that was honestly a little more in the frown family than I would've liked to see. Yes, something bad almost happened, but at least now Chelease would see Mason brought to justice. It might not be for what he did to her, but there would be repercussions. He wasn't walking away from this; the cops had promised me that.

“Teagan, I'm screwed. I almost killed a guy. It's over for me. There's not going to be anymore practices. No NFL. Nothing. I could even go to jail.”

My heart twisted up and I felt sick with guilt. Crap. I should've told Tyce sooner.

“No, you're not,” I told him as he just stood there in the strange half-light leaking in from outside and stared at me. His eyes were so dark right now, they looked black. “Mason's dad has a really good attorney, but he's not a god. He contacted the police right away to work on a plea deal.”

Tyce furrowed his brow at me and shook his head.

“Wait, what? Where did you hear this?”

“From the detective that came to take my statement in the hospital,” I said. “Mason was … he was under investigation for drugging and raping a girl last month. You didn't hear about it because his dad paid a lot of money to keep it under wraps, but it's true. And then there's the past allegations from Chelease. This was a nail in the coffin for him.”

I felt sick telling the story, so maybe that's why I hadn't blurted it all out at Tyce when he first walked in. Besides, then he'd started looking at the pictures and he told me he loved me and … I just couldn't bring myself to swallow the fact that I'd gone out with Mason for even a night. He was such a fucking creep.

“But … what?” Tyce put the fingers of his tattooed right hand up to his temple. I was blowing his mind right now, I guess. “What does that have to do with me?”

“Tyce, Mason was up for attempted murder charges. He almost killed me.”

“And I almost killed him,” Tyce said, still sounding confused. It was almost like he wanted to be in trouble, like he felt he needed to be punished for something. Why, I didn't understand. I reached up and brushed some hair from my face.

“He's just bruised up, Tyce. Yeah, he won't be playing football for a while, but he's going to be okay—eventually. Last night they thought he might've had some damage to his spine, but he woke up this morning. He's sitting up. He's fine. Well,” my lips curved up in a slight smile, “I wouldn't say fine, but he's nowhere close to being dead.”

“He's not?” Tyce sounded almost disappointed at that, too. Snarky bastard.

“Have you not answered your phone at all? Talked to anyone today?”

“No,” he told me firmly, moving back over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. Having him in here in the dark like this, it was nerve wracking. Earlier, I'd still been nauseous and reeling from the GHB. Right now, I felt … like maybe I wanted Tyce in my bed more than I should considering the circumstances. “I got up and came straight over here. That's it. Kai was gone when I woke up, but he'd left his car keys for me.”

I felt a warmth in my chest as I let that sink in. Number one. I was his first and only priority today. I almost smiled, kissed him, but I needed to get this out there so he'd calm down a little.

“Mason's dad's lawyer got a deal set up for him to avoid the attempted murder charge and a trial. Mason is going to resign from the team and the university as well as plead guilty to the attempted rape charge. It's not going to give him the sentence he deserves, but it's something, more than a rich spoiled asshole a guy like Mason would usually get.”

“How does … what about me?” Tyce asked, gritting his teeth a little. He was so stressed out, all the muscles in his neck, shoulders and chest were like rocks. “I don't understand.”

“They're not going to press charges against you.”

“Who?”

“Mason's family, or the cops. They don't want the publicity. Mason's mom is some super famous clothing designer or something. She makes baby clothes for celebrities. Nobody wants to buy baby clothes from somebody whose son is in the middle of a murder or rape trial.” I shrugged. “And I guess Mason's dad is afraid this will taint his career somehow. He just got promoted to head coach for some NFL team.” I gave Tyce a look. “Hopefully not the one you decide to join …”

Tyce just stared at me like I was a crazy person.

“How do you know all of this?”

I smiled back at him as he threw his feet up on the bed and took in a long, slow steady breath.

“The cops. The hospital staff. Melia, when I called to give her a very rough, very condensed version of the story. She was the one who told me about the head coach thing. I'm just putting it all together.”

“So Mason is … gone then?”

“From our lives,” I told him firmly. “From the U of O. Hopefully in jail? I don't know how any of this stuff works, but at least he'll finally have a record.”

“So … I get to walk away from beating the shit out of that prick?”

“Looks like it.”

“And I'm not in trouble?”

“Maybe for missing practice,” I said as Tyce yanked his phone from his jeans pocket and scrolled through his texts. He paused on Kai's, reading them all the way back through last night. He hadn't told anybody about what'd happened except for the coach. God, he's such a nice guy. Probably nicer than Tyce.

But he wasn't Tyce.

Nobody was.

“I'm going … to get my ass reamed … for missing practice,” Tyce said slowly as I looked up at him, gazed at that full lower lip of his, those high cheekbones, the hard masculine curve of his jaw. His mouth quirked up into a smirk. “I'm going to get my ass reamed for missing practice,” he said again, like this was the best thing that'd ever happened to him.

And then he looked over at me.

“Teagan,” he started, but I lifted a finger up and put it to his lips. He kissed the tip of it and I felt my heart start to flutter.

“Don't. I don't want to talk about anything else right now. It's two in the morning. Your coaches are probably asleep.”

“Meaning what?” Tyce asked as he raised an eyebrow at me. The way the corner of his lip curled up, I was sure he had an idea of where I was going with this.

“Meaning there's nobody around to bother us,” I whispered back, and then he leaned down and kissed me. It was long and slow, sensual. Easy. It was so easy to kiss Tyce, to love him. I'd been doing the latter part of that for years because, even when I hated him, I cared about him. It was impossible not to.

“Are you trying to get me into bed?” he asked me, his voice dropping down to that dark, sensual place that he'd tried to use on me that first day in the park. It hadn't worked then. It'd felt cheap, like he hadn't cared one way or another if I said yes. Right now, it was different. He definitely did care. And if his actions last night and today meant anything, he cared a whole hell of a lot.

He'd chosen me over himself. Over football. Over fucking football.

“I don't know, maybe,” I said in my best, most coquettish voice. Frankly, I was crap at it. Didn't matter.

You've just proven to me what I already should've known. I love her.

I took a deep breath, grabbed the edges of my nightgown and pulled it over my head. Tyce watched me with dilated pupils, heavy breathing, one leg cocked up with his hand resting on his knee. And then he leaned over and kissed me, deep, deeper, pausing only to pull his black tank off so our bare chests could be pressed together.

My hands came up, fingers sliding against the sides of his stubbled face.

“God, Teagan,” he whispered as we adjusted ourselves so he was laying mostly on top of me, the weight of his body a comforting pressure, his skin warm, his breath hot against my parted lips. “I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, so, so sorry. About pretending not to remember you. About being a dick. About leaving you. I was just … I'm an idiot.”

“It's true,” I said, trying to smile, but Tyce adjusted himself, pressing our hips together. I could feel the hard, firm press of his erection against me, making me gasp as I ran my fingers down the muscular planes of his back.

“Is it too early to ask you to be my wealthy NFL makeup artist wife?”

“Are you joking?” I said, but my heart was thundering and I was having trouble breathing. “My mom always said I had to get my degree before I got married. In fact, I'm pretty sure she told you that. Personally.”

Tyce chuckled, and the sound sent a warm purring vibration through me. I moaned and bit my lower lip, putting the knuckles of my right hand up to my mouth to stifle the sound. He just smiled at me, grabbed my wrist and pinned it above my head.

“How about … my wealthy NFL makeup artist fiancée?”

“Ask me at a more appropriate time,” I whispered as Tyce shoved his sweats down and out of our way, “and maybe I'll think about it.”

“How about on Duck Vision at the Civil War game? Right up there on that board for everyone to see.”

“You do that and I'll kill you,” I gasped, but he was already sliding into me, slow but determined, our eyes locked, his lips in a small smirk. I reached my arms around his neck and kissed him hard, drew him into me, moved our hips in rhythm together. I hoped he was joking, but … even if he wasn't, that was okay.

He was Tyce, the boy I'd known since forever. My mother loved him; I loved him.

And finally, I knew for sure that he loved me.

On the floor, the stack of Polaroids from earlier had fallen over, spilling across my carpet in a sea of memories. Right now, we were making new ones. I'd started out my year at the U of O alone and angry, but we'd end it together. Full circle. Everything always came full circle.

Tomorrow, Tyce would head back to practice and I'd go back to class. On Saturday, he'd crush the Civil War game against the Beavers while I cheered from the sidelines. And in April, he'd get drafted by the NFL and we'd head out to celebrate. Next year, I had no idea what we'd be doing, but I did know one thing.

We'd be together.

I was sure of it.

THE END

DESCRIPTION

Forbidden love shouldn't feel so good.

It also shouldn't hurt so much.

How could the one person I can't have be the only person I truly need?

Florian Harper Riley has my heart and he doesn't even know it. I used to think that was okay, that I'd get over him, but no matter how hard I try, I can't purge his sharp green gaze from my thoughts.

He's a tattoo artist, the love of my life, the man of my dreams.Â

But he's also my stepbrother.

Fate can be wicked cruel.

PROLOGUE

Three years earlier...

I curled my own fingers around my throat and bit back a gasp. It shouldn't feel so good to be touched like this. The hand wrapped around my own was firm, but insistent. There was no way I was getting out of it this time.

“Flor.” The word dropped from my lips like a cinder, one that I thought had gone cold but that always managed to flair back to life in a surge of heat and desire that I knew was wrong. Knew it. But couldn't stop the fire from fanning itself into a raging flame.

My brother – sorry, my stepbrother because let's be honest here, there's a big difference – pulled me forward so forcefully that I stumbled, fingers still at my throat in a gesture of surprise. What, exactly, he was doing here, I wasn't sure, but the hard glint in his eyes and the firm set of his mouth told me what I feared most: that he still, and maybe always would, think of me as a sister. If he didn't, then why was he so angry? Why did his full lips twist down in a scowl at the corners? And why was his grip so hard and his aura so … messy. His emotions twisted down his arm, following the colorful lines of his tattoos as they wrapped his bicep, bleeding into me and choking back my breath. Messy. I couldn't tell if he was just pissed or if he was disappointed, too, if maybe he couldn't believe he'd just caught me with a boy's arms around my waist and his tongue in my mouth. I was supposed to be the good one, right? The one that didn't give my dad or my stepmom any trouble because Flor gave them more than they could handle.

His dark hair bled into his eyes, dripping with sweat from the heat of the party and the crush of bodies, and I stared in simple fascination as he swept it back and glared at me.

“What the fuck,” he began as I cringed, “are you doing here?” I watched in horror as my stepbrother's gaze lifted and met that of the boy's behind me. I kept one hand on my neck, sliding it down to my chest so that I could feel the rapid thump and slam of my heart, much like the chilling bass beat that was tingling up my toes and making me blissfully deaf. Maybe then I wouldn't have to hear the sound of my father's disappointment when he sighed and then later probably screamed at me for this little adventure? “And who,” Florian continued, “the fuck is that?”

“None of your business, bro,” my mystery date said, curling his own fingers around my hip in a strange mockery of the way I'd done to my own throat, caught up in surprise when Flor had appeared out of nowhere and pulled me from my make out session and back to the harsh, gritty twang of reality. “Hey, are you alright?” the guy asked me as I glanced over my shoulder and swallowed hard. I guess he mistook my speechlessness for fear because he stepped around me and got in Flor's face. “You can't make her leave if she doesn't want to go.”

“I can,” Flor snapped back at him, grinding his teeth and squeezing my wrist even tighter than before, “if she's my sister.” He leaned in and let my date have it with a simple whisper of words. “Oh, by the way, she's only fifteen, asshole.” My new friend tore his hand away from my hip like it was on fire – but not the good kind, not the kind I was feeling right now as Flor's sweaty fingers tugged me forward. No, this was more like he was terrified of me now, like he wouldn't touch me with a ten-foot pole. I guessed he wouldn't want to, considering he was twenty-one. Guess I shouldn't have lied about my age.

“Hey, Flor,” a girl with long black hair and brightly colored extensions giggled as we passed by. “You in a hurry or something?” She eyed me with no small amount of contempt as Flor dragged me through the crowd and paused only when we were standing on the porch outside the little green and white house. In the middle of a neighborhood known locally as The Whit, it was unlikely the cops would get called on this place, so it was a hotspot for parties. I knew because I'd followed Flor here more than once. Tonight, though, tonight I'd really believed him when he'd told his mom he – and I quote – felt like shit and was going upstairs to lie down. Florian never lied about going to parties. He just … went. No matter what sort of fight his mom put up.

“Yeah, I sort of am,” he growled, ignoring the girl and pulling me down the steps in my heels. His broad back filled my view, blocking the clusters of teenagers and young adults hanging out on the sidewalk at the bottom of the steps. The fabric stretched across his muscles in a way that was criminal. I was young, sure, but I wasn't so young that I couldn't appreciate that, couldn't appreciate the way Flor's body had changed from a lanky teenage boy's to a … to a man's.

I flushed from head to toe and rolled my eyes. I'd binged last week during spring break, reading each and every single one of the romance novels crammed onto my stepmom's shelf. It was part curiosity, I guess, that encouraged me to read them. That, and part disappointment and frustration that Flor got to go away and I didn't. Since then I'd been saying and thinking strange things, like how Flor always smelled so good. Or how I was glad he didn't shut his bedroom door when he was changing his shirt. That kind of stuff.

I looked away from Florian's back to stare at the pavement for a moment, trying to pull myself together. If he was a mess of emotions then so was I. Nervous, anxious, frustrated … jealous. I swallowed hard and glanced back over at the girl. She was standing with her arms crossed over her flat chest, her lips pursed, looking from Flor's face to his hand, the one that was wrapped around my wrist, and then back again.

“You brought me here,” she said accusingly, the fabric of her black dress reflecting the light from the flickering street lamp above us. I watched her eyes as they moved over my stepbrother, taking in each and every line of his body like she was lost in the desert and he, he was a nice, tall glass of water. When her eyes moved over to me, I saw a primal response, a surge of jealous anger that made me swallow twice – not because I was scared but because I was angry. Didn't she know that Flor didn't belong to anyone? He said that all the time when his mother asked why he never brought girls home. Then, of course, he'd whisper under his breath that he actually brought girls home all the time, only that she didn't notice.

I tried to pull my arm from Florian's grasp, but he wouldn't let go of me.

“This isn't a good time,” he said, pausing to glance over at me. I refused to meet his eyes. I didn't know how to feel towards him. Why was it okay for him to party, to kiss whoever he wanted, to … do whatever with whoever he wanted? I had a right to experiment, too. “This is my sister.” I cringed again, hating the way he said that word. Sister. I wasn't his sister and hadn't even known him as long as I'd known my best friend, Addison. Florian and I had met ten years ago and had only lived together full time for eight of them. “I've got to get her home, okay?” I looked back at the girl and saw her face soften. Sister. The word always did that to them, like I was no longer a threat. Because, of course, Florian would never want anything to do with me. I wasn't a girl to him, just an obligation. I was safe. “And then maybe I'll be back after,” he added which did nothing to enhance the slowly building smile on the girl's face. Her red lips turned down and she rolled her eyes, spinning on her heels and marching up the white steps we'd just come down.

“Abigail,” Flor said, and I swallowed again, this time to get past the lump in my throat. I wished he'd let go of me; that would've made things easier. “Let's go.” But Florian didn't release me and instead, pulled me towards his car, double parked next to a white Honda Civic, its silver paint dull in the shadowy corridor of the street. Only two street lamps on either side of the house worked; the rest had been broken sometime in the last few years. “Get in,” he said, finally letting go of my arm. I spun then, surprising him, tears welling up unbidden from God only knows where.

“Why?” I asked him and it was his turn to roll his eyes and shake his head, like he knew better, like he had room to talk. He reached out to take my arm again, but I stepped back, pulling it out of his reach. He mistook my emotions for fear and opened the car door with a sigh.

“I won't tell your dad,” he said as he tilted his head to the side and watched me. The eyebrow ring in his left brow winked as a car behind us turned on its headlights and pulled forward, zooming around Florian's illegally parked Mazda like it didn't even exist, like we were in our own little world. “If that's what you're freaking out about, don't worry.”

I watched him watching me, drank in the details of that moment, the way his eyes were focused wholly and completely on mine, the way his tongue brushed against his lower lip, the way his newest tattoo – a girl with a wolf skin draped over her shining brown curls – gleamed with lotion and a dabbling of sweat.

“Why do you get to have all the fun?” I asked, and I knew I sounded exactly the way I didn't want to sound – like I really was fifteen. “Why do you get to bring girls over to the house when Dad and River are at work? Why do you get to go to parties on school nights and disappear over spring break, long enough that your mom actually thinks about calling the cops?” I wrapped my arms around myself and took another step back as Florian's eyes narrowed.

“You're fifteen, Abi,” he said, confirming my worst fear. Eighteen year old Florian knew everything and here I was, his whiny younger sister who played the cello and had just had her first kiss with some stranger. He probably thought I was crazy. “Get in the car and let's go home.”

“No,” I said and he growled low under his breath, sending a chill straight up my spine. A cool breeze drifted down between the houses on either side of us, teasing my skirt and bringing goose bumps up on my exposed thighs. Florian's school blazer was hanging loosely from my shoulders, but not because he'd given it to me. Because I had decided to go to the party in my school uniform the way the rest of the girls did and wanted to wear burgundy – the color of the senior class.

“Why are you being so goddamn stubborn?” he snarled at me, running a hand through his sweaty hair. I wondered briefly how long he'd been at the party before he'd found me. “Do you want me to call your dad and tell him you're here?”

“Do whatever you want,” I snapped back, taking a step towards him this time. I needed him to know I wasn't going to back down without an answer. I watched as he scowled and shoved his hands in his front pockets, looking down at me as he sucked in a deep breath. I could tell he was pissed but trying not to show it. His eyes, green and sharp as thorns, took me in from head to toe, pausing at the black and white skull patterned socks I'd pulled up to my knees. Those definitely weren't regulation for Mercy High School students, but I'd worn them anyway and scraped by without detention for it. I'd even rolled the waistband of my skirt up a few times, hiding the bunched fabric by pulling my white dress shirt out and letting it hang loose – another fashion statement I'd never participated in before today. I could tell Florian noticed. “I'm not going home, Flor. I want to stay.” He looked up at my face then and took his own step forward, the toes of our shoes just this side of touching.

I tried not to meet his eyes, keeping my gaze on the bleeding rose pattern that decorated his shirt, convinced that I could see every muscle in his chest and belly through the tight fabric.

“You're my sister,” he said, and this time, when I cringed, he noticed. “I'm not leaving you at some second-rate, shitty party to get taken advantage of.”

“It's not your decision,” I whispered as his hands came up and touched my elbows, sliding to my shoulders and pulling the blazer down my arms. Flor's face was ridiculously close to mine when he leaned in and tossed the jacket onto the front seat. I could feel the warm brush of his breath against my lips, like an indirect kiss, a ghost of a wish that would never come true. “And I'm not your sister.”

Then I did look up at him, meeting his green eyes with my blue ones and trying not to let him see how nervous I felt, how his nearness and his touch undid me. The things I felt for him, that I didn't feel for any other guy, they were wrong. I knew that. I knew that. Still, it didn't matter. He wasn't my brother and I was about three-fifths sure I was in love with him.

“I know.”

I thought for one brief second there that Flor was really going to kiss me. I could practically taste his mouth, smell the scent of his shampoo, could practically feel that cinder on my tongue burning against his, igniting some sort of … blaze between us that would burn us both to ashes.

But he didn't.

He didn't kiss me, just took a step back and went around to the driver's side of the car, opening his door and leaning on the roof with his arms crossed. His face was smooth-shaven, but the shadows from the trees looming above us played tricks on my mind and made it look like he had stubble across his jaw, rough and untamed. My eyes managed to find the single scar on his chin, the one he'd gotten from a bike ride gone wrong, even in the dim lighting. I focused on that instead of his eyes.

“Up to you,” he said, and his voice was easy to hear, even with the pulsing thump of music radiating from the old Craftsman. Flor always had a sharp, clear voice and a tone that brooked no argument, not even from his own mother. It was like he just knew everything, and that annoyed me. “Come with me now or I'll follow you back inside and tell everyone that you're fifteen. Then they can kick you out themselves and you can wait on the street corner for your dad to pick you up.”

“I hate you,” I whispered, even though that wasn't true.

Flor nodded like the know-it-all jerk he was and climbed into the car.

I followed after him, slamming my door to let him know I didn't like this and that I was pissed.

“I really hate you,” I said again, brushing away a slight swell of tears with an angry hand.

“Yeah, I'm a real piece of shit,” he told me as I slammed my foot on the dashboard and left it there, resting my cheek against my thigh as I gazed out the window. There was a long pause before Flor started the car and when I glanced over, I caught him staring at me. I narrowed my eyes and looked away again before he could see how hurt I was, how desperate I was for his attention.

Then the engine started and we were whizzing through the city and towards South Hills, towards the four bedroom house that I spent most of my free time in, reading and doing massive amounts of AP homework. Neither of us spoke as Flor drove me home.

When we got there, I shoved open my door before Flor had even put the car in park and stormed up to the front porch, tugging down the hem of my skirt as I went. Even if Flor didn't rat me out – which I wasn't at all sure about – my outfit might give me away.

I raced up the cement steps to the dark green door and pushed it open, hearing my stepmom's laughter ring down the staircase. She and Dad were probably upstairs snuggling and watching their evening movie. They always made time for it, no matter what happened. I sort of envied them their relationship. Must be nice to have someone to hang out with all the time. All I had was a best friend who'd just moved nine hundred miles away and a stepbrother that hated me.

“Hey,” Flor said, reaching out and grabbing at my arm again. The front door shut softly behind him as I turned, looking down at his fingers curled around my bicep. He licked his lips again and for a split second there, he looked almost nervous. “I meant what I said, you know. I won't tell your dad a thing.” I didn't respond. “But that doesn't mean I like what I saw.”

“Like I enjoy finding you with your hands up girls' shirts on the living room couch.” I started to pull away again, but Flor pulled me back. I spun around, intending to give him a piece of my mind and found him way too close to me, smelling too good, breathing too hard, eyes even sharper than normal.

“You never said anything before,” was all he said, and since I didn't know how to respond to that, I decided to be flippant.

“Why should I? It should be obvious. What sister likes to see her brother going at it with a different girl every weekend?”

Flor stared at me for a good long moment, fingers still curled around my arm and then suddenly, he was pushing me against the wall, pinning my arms above my head with his right hand, and molding our bodies together in a way that brought a small moan tumbling unbidden from my lips.

“I thought you said you weren't my sister,” he whispered, and then he really did press his lips to mine, slide his tongue into my mouth. I wanted to slap him or scream for joy or run upstairs and call Addison or knee him in the balls or … I found myself arching my breasts against his chest, my mouth moving against his. I melted into Flor as he leaned into me, one knee between my legs, barely keeping me from sliding to the floor in a puddle of surprise and … pleasure. It really, really shouldn't feel this good to be touched, I thought, echoing my earlier feelings. But if Flor's fingers around my wrist had been like a flame, his body pressed into mine was like the sun.

I arched my back and felt my hips rock against his, felt his erection hot and unyielding against my thigh. I struggled to pull my arms from his grip, to touch him the way his left hand was touching me, sliding down my side, caressing my hip through my skirt. When his fingers met the bare skin of my upper thigh, I gasped into his mouth, felt his tongue dig deeper while my heart split open and released all of the feelings I'd been keeping back for so long.

Butterflies had taken flight in my stomach, battering at my belly with nervous wings and tightening places low in my body, places that I hadn't even realized could ache like this. Oh God, I didn't think anything could ever ache so bad and feel so good at the same time. That is, until Flor's fingers found my panties, the black silky ones with the lace that I'd put on just because. A lick of flame raced up my spine as he touched me and I found I could barely breathe, let alone think. I knew my dad and stepmom were upstairs, that finding us like this would destroy them both, but I couldn't stop. I didn't want to stop.

Flor pulled back a fraction of an inch, just enough that he could whisper my own name against my lips.

“Abigail.”

As quick as it started, it stopped.

“Abi, is that you, honey?” I heard my dad's voice a split second before I snapped my eyes open and found the lights in the stairwell flickering on.

Florian released me, much the same way the guy at the party had, like I was hurting him, burning him too hot, scorching him too deep. Like I was dangerous.

His eyes mirrored back a look of hurt, of longing, that I knew was plastered across my own face. I dropped my arms, crossed them over my chest. Ice was seeping into me at that look, at this taboo breath that was passing between us. We both knew we couldn't have what we wanted, and that we never could. I reached out, just once, a single hand grasping for a love I knew could be, but Florian didn't reach back. Instead, he backed up, chest rising and falling with rapid breath, his lips still moist from the touch of my own. And then he turned toward the front door and left. Just like that.

“Yeah, Dad,” I called back, fighting to keep my voice strong and steady. I didn't want him to find me down here like this, panting and red cheeked and moist lipped and … hurting. I slid to the floor as tears stung my eyes again. “I'll be right up.” I put my forehead against my arm and waited for the emotions to pass.

But they never did.

And Flor never touched me again.

We never even spoke of it.

DESCRIPTION

Make nice with the President of the Alpha Wolves Motorcycle Club.

Yeah right.

It was what my job description called for—I just never realized exactly how nice I needed to be.

I certainly never expected to find myself twisted up and tangled in the raw, dirty world of an outlaw motorcycle club … or in the sexy, tattooed hands of the man in charge.

Royal McBride is a jerk—but a jerk with a swoon worthy accent, a big bike, and big … well, other things.

I didn't think falling in love with him would threaten my life. His life.

That we'd both risk losing everything we hold dear.Â

The mayor's daughter … an outlaw MC president. It's a match made in heaven … a match tested in hell.

He's a bad boy ... and a nanny. Coming soon!

First

Second

Third

Fourth

Fifth

Sixth

Seventh

The House of Gray and Graves

The House of Hands and Hearts and Hair

The House of Sticks and Bones

The Feed

The Hunt

The Throne

Indigo & Iris

Indigo & The Colonel

Indigo & Lynx

Tasting Never

Finding Never

Keeping Never

Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never

Never Can Tell

Never Let Go

Never Did Say

Never Could Stop

Losing Me, Finding You

Loving Me, Trusting You

Needing Me,Wanting You

Craving Me, Desiring You

- Paint Me Beautiful

Color Me Pretty

Real Ugly

Get Bent

Tough Luck

Bad Day

Born Wrong

Dead Serious

Doll Face

Heart Broke

Get Hitched

She Lies Twisted

Hell Inc.

A Werewolf Christmas (A Short Story)

Fuck Valentine's Day (A Short Story)

Clan of the Griffin Riders: Chryer's Crest

DeadBorn

Broken Pasts

Crushing Summer

Taboo Unchained

Taming her Boss

Kicked

About the Author

C.M. Stunich is a self-admitted bibliophile with a love for exotic teas and a whole host of characters who live full time inside the strange, swirling vortex of her thoughts. Some folks might call this crazy, but Caitlin Morgan doesn't mind - especially considering she has to write biographies in the third person. Oh, and half the host of characters in her head are searing hot bad boys with dirty mouths and skillful hands (among other things). If being crazy means hanging out with them everyday, C.M. has decided to have herself committed.

She hates tapioca pudding, loves to binge on cheesy horror movies, and is a slave to many cats. When she's not vacuuming fur off of her couch, C.M. can be found with her nose buried in a book or her eyes glued to a computer screen. She's the author of over thirty novels - romance, new adult, fantasy, and young adult included. Please, come and join her inside her crazy. There's a heck of a lot to do there.

Oh, and Caitlin loves to chat (incessantly), so feel free to e-mail her, send her a Facebook message, or put up smoke signals. She's already looking forward to it.

www.cmstunich.com, www.facebook.com/cmstunichauthor, twitter.com/cmstunich, www.goodreads.com/cmstunich

Table of Contents

- Table of Contents

- Front Matter

- Title Page

- Copyright

- Dedication

- Kicked

- Chapter 1

- Chapter 2

- Chapter 3

- Chapter 4

- Chapter 5

- Chapter 6

- Chapter 7

- Chapter 8

- Chapter 9

- Chapter 10

- Chapter 11

- Chapter 12

- Chapter 13

- Chapter 14

- Chapter 15

- Chapter 16

- Chapter 17

- Chapter 18

- Chapter 19

- Chapter 20

- Chapter 21

- Stepbrother Inked

- Stebrother Inked Description

- Prologue

- Raw and Dirty

- Raw and Dirty Description

- More Books By C.M. Stunich

- About the Author

Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Front Matter

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Kicked

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Stepbrother Inked

Stebrother Inked Description

Prologue

Raw and Dirty

Raw and Dirty Description

More Books By C.M. Stunich

About the Author