Hustle Page 21

  “Show him what?”

  “That he didn't completely screw his chances with you. He didn't say much, but whatever happened between you two bothered him.”

  “I don't think it was me.” I shake my head, unconvinced. “There's got to be more to it.”

  “There always is.” His smile spreads as he looks past my shoulder, and my stomach lurches. “Ask him about it. He needs to talk to someone— 'bout time you got here.” He walks past me, but I refuse to turn. I know who is approaching. “I've got to cancel on you today. Pops needs me at work.”

  I start to walk away, but his voice when he replies to Q strikes a unique anger in me, and I turn around.

  The sight of him, unharmed and in his long sleeve shirt and sweats ready to workout, pisses me off. “You shouldn't disappear without letting someone know where you are. Everyone was worried about you.”

  “About me or the game?” He raises a dark brow, unfazed by others' concern.

  I want to pull my hair or his. “Some people actually care about more than just themselves and a damn game.”

  “She's here because she was worried about you. Girls always get angry when they're worried.” Q pats him on the shoulder. “Stay and talk to her, calm her down. I'll catch up with you later.” He backs away with a wink in my direction. “I hope to see you around, too, sweets.”

  He scratches his hand through his curls as he watches Q leave, and then he stretches his beanie back over his hair as he faces me. “I'm sorry.”

  I don't even try to interpret that. “Why did you leave without saying anything?”

  “I don't need to explain to them, and I didn't think you'd care.” His voice is low, and he steps closer to me with an unguarded gaze.

  My chest is tight, a part of me wanting to answer that unasked question, but I don't. “Just—you should go home. Let your team know you’re okay. TJ even came to me to find you.”

  “I meant about the other night, I'm sorry for hurting you.” He takes another step forward with his head bowed, but his eyes hold a fathomless depth as they lift towards me. “I didn't mean for you to take any of that personally.”

  “I guess that was my problem from the start, I took it all too personally.”

  “Don't.” He grips the back of his neck. “I should have realized, but I didn't.”

  “It doesn't matter.” I need him to stop. I need to leave.

  “It does because you tried to tell me, and I stopped you. I didn't realize what you were talking about. The way you are—I thought you grew up protected, sheltered.” His brows furrow as he shakes his head. “But shit, your sister? No wonder you said you two aren't close. She sounds psycho.”

  “She's not.” I throw my hand up to stop him. “She's got her own issues.”

  “And you defend her still?”

  “You don't know.”

  “Then tell me.” He grabs my hand and his thumb is light but rough as it swipes over the back of it.

  “Why?” I breathe, unable to resist the warmth radiating from him. I'm sinking into it.

  “Because,” his other hand skims my hair along my face, “you are more real than anyone else I met but still genuinely sweet. And I don't understand why anyone would hurt you.”

  “She—” I shrug, unsure how to explain London. “She was in the accident with our father. She was older and closer with him than I was. She was with him that night; she saw it all. It affected her more. Physically and emotionally. She had a traumatic brain injury from the accident.” I state it all, but I know it still doesn't explain. “She changed after that. We all did, but she more so. And it wasn't all in her control; some of it’s because of her injury. Her grades dropped, she was sick a lot, frustrated more. She became angry with herself, with everyone, and nobody could help.”

  “What about you?” He was still running those rough but calming circles on my hand.

  “What about me?”

  “How did you change?”

  “I was sad.” That wasn't the right term. “I still live with this unbearable regret that my last moments with him was spent arguing and saying the meanest things I could think of.” I look at Andrew then, ashamed at what I just spoke aloud. Amazed that I was still standing here talking, but it all felt so natural, like breathing. “Are you going back? I should text TJ that I found you.”

  “You don't need to.” He tugs my hand so our bodies almost touch, and he has to bend his head to meet my eyes. “I'll go back.”

  “Why did you leave?” I can't pull away. I need to pull away.

  “There were a lot of reasons. Everything became too loud, and I needed a break. I needed to think. But I kept thinking about you and what you said.”

  “I didn't mean for you to focus on that.”

  “I know.” His fingers thread through mine. “Come back with me tonight.”

  His head dipping close makes my racing heart stutter, and I pull away. “I can't.”

  “Kiss me or come home with me?”

  “Both.” I take a few more steps back. “We're not going back to whatever it was we had.”

  “Why? I said I was sorry.”

  “Because,” I pause in my retreat, “you only apologized when I found you. First you ran away to clear your head, to focus on football—and that's not a bad thing—but it's what you should keep your focus on. We should only be friends.”

  “Friends.” He swipes the hat off his head, gripping it in his hand.

  “Yeah” I take a few steps towards the parking lot, away from the hold he has on me. “Now go talk to your teammates.” I turn and walk away, but he calls after me.

  “I didn't only leave to focus on football.” When I face him, he's walking towards me. “I also went and saw my Grandmom.”

  “How did that go?” He’s parked next to me, and I pause at the front of my car.

  He shakes his head. “She thought I was my father the entire time, kept calling me Andrew, so it sucked.”

  “A lot of people call you Andrew.” I know he prefers Drew, but almost everyone refers to him as Andrew— it’s hard to do otherwise.

  “Not anyone that matters.” There’s a bitterness in his words. “I’m known as Andrew Fayden in football and by fans, but I’m Drew to friends and family. Except my grandmother now, to her I’m my father.”

  “That's got to be hard.” My heart reaches to comfort him, yet I remain still. “But it's good you see her.”

  He presses his lips together and nods. “Friends still talk right?” He reaches for my hand again and that deep haunted look is back. “You'll still talk to me right?”

  “Of course. I care about you, Drew. If you need to talk, I'm here.” I grip his hand. All he has to do is ask.

  But he steps away. “Good. I'll call you.”

  * * *

  Jess is easy to talk to, and the light workout and conversation help to ease my uncertainty about Drew. But there's still something nagging at me, tugging at my brain, keeping me worried about him. He seemed so different, subdued and off.

  I press the little arrow on the treadmill several times to slow it down. I can't talk and keep the brisk pace.

  “Maybe I should have gone back with him. Maybe we would have talked more.” Even as I speak it, I doubt it.

  “No, if talking is your goal, you did it right.” Jess hits the control panel on her treadmill, slowing down her walk. “You were telling him to come after you. He has to know how to read between the lines.”

  “I'm not sure that's what I was saying.” I didn't tell her any of the personal details of our conversation, just the general gist of it.

  “Yes, you were. You basically said the apology didn't count because you had to find him for it. That's practically saying he should have found you. Now it's up to him.” She turns towards me as she hits the switch to turn off her machine. “I bet he calls tomorrow. Time's up, can we get dinner now?”

  Rose and Jess are finishing up their circuit on the weight machines as well, and I kill my treadmill.


  “Look.” Rose lifts her shirt to show her waist, a Pisces tattoo along her side and the star tattoo inside her hipbone decorate her pale skin. “I'm starting to get some definition.”

  Angel rolls her eyes as she wipes a towel across her brow. “If you keep it up, you will.”

  “Food now?” Jess asks, stepping towards them.

  “Let's shower first,” Rose responds while checking her phone. She slides it away with a slight shake of her head.

  TJ had left right after I did today, and she’s hoping he’ll call.

  * * *

  Tatum's full of energy as she assists with dance class. And I'm an awful person because her laughter and smiles darken my mood.

  I'm convinced she's doing it all on purpose, that each of her graceful movements are calculated to remind me how awkward I am. Each of her stunning smiles highlights that she's happier than me. That she's still better. The winner—of a game I never meant to be part of.

  Except, I know it's all irrational. She's never done anything to me, really, and my dislike is solely built on jealousy. A jealousy I can't shed.

  “I took your advice.” Her arm hooks around my shoulder and she squeezes, her smile exploding in a breathless laugh as we walk out of the building.

  She's taken me off guard, and I turn out of her embrace. “What advice?”

  “I'm going to find someone who can appreciate all I am.” She winks, and then bounds ahead of me without pausing for a response. My gaze follows her lean frame, slim curves highlighted in her leggings and sweater that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair is swept up into a knot on the top of her head.

  Scott stands on the sidewalk. And for a split second, I don't make the connection. Confusion and surprise narrow his eyes as he waves to me.

  Then Tatum links her arm with his and walks him away with a dozen different smiles as she chatters.

  I stare after them, more confused than ever.

  * * *

  “Blondie,” Kyle booms from across the street as I walk back to my dorm after my last class.

  I stop as he crosses the road, approaching me.

  “Keep walking.” He nudges my shoulder as he passes by, walking onto the more secluded path that cut's across to my building. “Things worked out.”

  I pull my cardigan a little tighter as I keep pace with him. The trees block the little warmth the sun provides. “What do you mean?”

  His eyes widen as he glances towards me. “With your roommate. He's done with her.”

  There’s no relief, only a guilty ache in my chest. “Did he talk to her today?”

  “No,” he scoffs. “Don't you know this already? He hasn't talked to her since Sunday night.”

  “He was over Wednesday—”

  “Only to talk to you,” Kyle interrupts. “He hasn't returned a single text of hers, and he's not going to.”

  I stay silent for a moment, but can't keep it in. “He should talk to her. Leaving her hanging isn't right.”

  “Damn, get over it. It's not going to happen. Take this as a good thing, and do whatever you girls do to help your friend move the hell on because her calling is pathetic.”

  “She's not pathetic, she thought he cared about her,” I try and defend.

  “That's her fault.”

  “No, it's his fault for lying to her, for playing with her emotions.”

  He grabs me by the sleeve of my upper arm and stops walking. “You're going to keep your mouth shut, aren't you?”

  I nod and he drops my arm.

  “Good.” The sharp anger in his face dulls and he nods. “A little advice? Everyone lies to protect themselves. So don't judge him for his.”

  “Then don't judge her for believing his lies.”

  He smiles then, and I can't tell if it's real or not. “I don't know why you're friends with her. I don't know what you’re doing with this group. You're a nice girl. Do yourself a favor and get far away from all of us. Go hang out with other bleeding hearts before you lose yours completely.”

  “Are you talking about Drew now?” I question and he laughs, a laugh that buries me with its harshness.

  “No, I wasn't. But I am now. Stay away from him, too. He plays with girls even worse than TJ. I keep out of it, usually. But since you're helping me out, I'll help you. He loves football and fucking. That's it. Some say he loves Tatum, but they're idiots if they don't see the truth. He likes the way their fights lead to sex. I see it. I hear it. I've known him since he got here three years ago, and none of that has changed. There are always other girls, but none that hang on like her or get to him like her. And as cute as you are, you don't have enough fire to please him, not for long.” He crosses his arm and looks me up and down with a tight-lipped frown. “Maybe that was harsh, but it's the truth. Walk away now.”

  I let the hurt burn into anger and use it to make my backbone into steel as I walk away from him.

  * * *

  We're seated at the top of the student section, even though it's a night game and I could’ve gotten here earlier, we didn't. The game isn’t serious; a team that everyone said didn't stand a chance. Our undefeated streak isn’t in jeopardy.

  So we pre-gamed in the dorms and took our time. Neither Rose nor myself cared to sit up close, and Jess and Angel were content to sit with us in the back.

  “Is that the boy Andrew hit?” Rose snaps her fingers, trying to think. “What's his name? That frat boy that helps with your kid thing.”

  I look up from responding to my mother's text. “Scott?”

  “Yeah, is that him with Tatum, up front, there?”

  I scan the sea of red. The school handed out student shirts for the game, and everyone looked the same. The alcohol in my soda didn't make anything clearer. “Probably. I think they’re dating or something.”

  She lifts her brow. “Interesting. Well that's good for you, isn't it?”

  “Maybe, but I'm not sure if it's good for him.” I shrug and sip my spiked soda. Drew still hadn't called, and it was only making Kyle's words louder and my hope that things could be different smaller.

  “Sigma's having a party tonight. Deena texted me earlier.”

  Scott told me the same thing at the kids’ clinic that morning.

  “No.” Angel swipes her hand.

  “Yeah,” Jess nods to Rose, leaning over Angel, “if you want to avoid the one who shall not be named, then you should stay away from frat row tonight.”

  “Otherwise, I'm not listening to you bitch and moan about him anymore if you go searching for him tonight.” Angel drinks to her declaration.

  “Besides,” Jess continues with growing enthusiasm, “the floor above ours is having a hall party. Come see how the other half lives, us underclassman can actually be pretty fun. Not to mention, you'll only be a few steps from your bed.”

  “Sounds perfect to me. I'm there.” I raise my fountain cup to them and take a deep, burning drink.

  But the large cup isn't big enough to take away all my cares. I reach the bottom before I can drink away the ache Andrew's absence causes. Watching him on the field only makes it worse. I'd scared him away with too much pressure, and now I was the one regretting it.

  * * *

  As we walk the hall, Jess greets nearly everyone by name.

  “How do you know them all?” I yell into her ear, and Angel pushes me into an open room as a girl does back handsprings past us to a chorus of cheers.

  “We live here.” Jess bounces to the beat playing in her head. “I see them all the time.” She smiles brightly at the group playing beer pong.

  “Jessica,” a shaggy haired boy lifts his cup, “you want on this table next? It's strip pong?”

  “Maybe later.” She giggles, but leads our group back out into the hall. “Maybe let’s not hang out in that room. Mel's probably got a good crowd in her room. Good music, too.”

  She leads us to another room. When we find a spot to stand, Angel pulls out a liquor bottle and soda from her oversized bag, and we each refill our plastic cups
with rum and coke. And then we dance. And laugh. And I let the blurry warmth of the liquor relax and energize me.

  Rose pulls me to the side a couple songs later with a bright smile. “TJ texted.”

  “Oh no,” my groan slips out and she frowns.

  “He's out front. I thought you'd be happy for me.”

  “You said you were moving on.” She had, all last night when he never called.

  “Well,” she shrugs, “he's here now and wants me to go with him tonight. I want to see what he says. And really, you can't say anything. You leave with Andrew all the time, and he calls even less than TJ. Don't be mad that TJ called and Andrew didn't.”

  “I'm not mad.” I laugh. The alcohol’s made me crazy. “It's just—

  “Whoa, did you say TJ called?” Angel pulls on the end of Rose's ponytail.

  Rose pulls her narrowed eyes from me and releases the tension in a breath as she faces Angel. “Yeah. He's out front. I'm leaving.”

  “Rose,” I call to her as she leaves. “I didn't mean to offend you.”

  Angel stops me from going after her. “Leave her be. That girl is going to do what she wants.”

  “I know, but I think she was mad with me. I don't want her to think she can't talk to me if she needs me.”

  I can see Angel’s laugh more than hear it. It lights her whole face, and she slides her arm around my shoulder. “Don't be so serious. You two are roommates, and friends, and drunk. And that was no argument. Of course she knows she can talk to you. Don't worry so much.”

  “Ooh. Are we dancing?” Jess slips her arm on the other side of me and sways the three of us from side to side.

  “Better idea, bitches. Drinks!” Angel pushes into me, making Jess stumble.

  What could be minutes or hours later, I'm swaying on my feet, disconnected from my mind, but my body’s a swirl of sensations. A buzzed cut boy is beside me. Adam, I think.

  “You're cute.” He smiles as he leans into me.

  “So people keep telling me.” I think I hate being called cute now.