So why did I feel my heart in my throat? Why did my stomach feel like it was about to explode? Why did I hate the name Holly on principle alone?
The dance team was making a circle around me, everyone kneeling around me, asking if I needed some water. I shook my head, looking up at where Jude was leading the team off the field. I could trust that man. I was falling in love with that man.
Like he could read my thoughts, he looked over just then, his eyes falling on me, a smile already in position until he took a good look at my face. He stopped abruptly as a wave of players passed him. The smile faded from his face as he jogged across the field towards me.
Not now, not now, I told myself. Halftime when he had twenty of the best coaches in the country here watching him was not the time to bring up Holly. Later, after the game, so I could put the Holly ghost that haunted me to rest.
“Luce,” he said, sliding his helmet off. “Are you all right?” Lifting his hands, he ran them over my face.
No was the honest answer, but yes was the answer I needed to give. Perhaps I needed to review the finer points of trust too.
“I’m fine,” I said, resting my cheek into his hand. “Just a little light headed. I forgot to eat dinner again,” I said, rolling my eyes like I was hopeless.
“Somebody get me some water!” Jude shouted. “And a granola bar or something!” Turning back at me, he kissed me softly. “Dammit, woman, you mean too much to me. Eat, okay?”
I nodded, taking the Styrofoam cup from someone’s hands.
“I’ve got a defensive line that needs a tongue thrashing, so I better get going.” He kissed my cheek and stood up.
“And a couple dozen scouts to impress,” I added, taking another sip.
“That’s already been taken care of,” he said, snapping his helmet back on.
I smiled. “All right, cocky, run along. I’ll wait for you after the game. I’ve got something planned,” I said, lifting my brows.
He stopped, glancing back, his face unreadable. “Hey, Luce, rain check on tonight, okay? I’m sore as all hell already and I’m going to be lucky if I can make it home upright. Tomorrow night?”
That stomach exploding feeling peaked. “Don’t you need a ride?”
“Meyers offered to drive me home,” he said, looking down the field. “That way you won’t have to wait for me and listen to a big baby crying for ice and painkillers.”
I couldn’t talk.
“I gotta go, Luce,” he said, jogging backwards. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Turning around, he headed for Southpointe’s team tunnel. “Your turn to kick some dance ass on that field, Luce,” he hollered over his shoulder. “Don’t let me down.”
I bent my head over my knees. “You neither.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was staging a stake out on my own boyfriend. So much for the trust I was so confident I had in him a couple hours ago.
Southpointe, as anticipated, obliterated the top seeded team in the conference, making Southpointe, for the first time in its history, number one. Jude came back from halftime like a twenty-four point lead was inexcusable, widening that gap by another twenty-one. It was like watching a team of Gods play a team of mortals, Jude playing the part of Zeus.
I’d managed to suck it up and dance my ass off during halftime before running to the girls’ locker room and changing so I could blend into the herd of raving fans in the bleachers. I knew he was looking for me, even hurt I wasn’t down on the sidelines cheering him on, but I was in no mood to cheer. Not even in a mood to pretend to cheer and I couldn’t give him any reason to suspect something wasn’t right.
I couldn’t have him checking over his shoulder for his girlfriend, identifying her crouched down and hoodie up behind the wheel of her car. Because then, like the good, trusting girlfriend I wasn’t, I couldn’t tail him to see where he was really headed tonight.
It was nearing the hour mark following the end of the game, when almost all the players’ cars were long gone, when he emerged from the locker room. Scottie Meyers wasn’t with him, no other player was; he was alone.
People preach to you about pivotal moments like this one. Moments where you have two options, and one choice. One path to head down with no turning back. Choice numero uno: I could jump out of my car, run and throw myself in his arms, and keep playing the fool. That was appealing on just about every level.
And choice numero deus: I could stay put and follow him to wherever he led me, hopefully getting to the bottom of this whole Holly situation or discovering Sawyer was a lying sack of shit. This choice didn’t appeal to me at all, but it was the one I had to make.
Because I wasn’t one of those girls who could turn a blind eye while their boyfriend skirted around town. Because I wasn’t one of those girls that thought trust was a conditional, open to interpretation thing. Because I was one of those girls that needed to know if my boyfriend was screwing some ex flame behind my back so I could wind up miserable, heartbroken, but, at least, informed. I guess.
Jude skipped the parking lot, weaving through the weeds. Heading south.
As in SouthView Park.
Wherever he was going, he was traveling on foot, so that meant tailing him in the Mazda would be impossible. He’d probably get a little suspicious if a vehicle in my make and model followed a few car lengths behind him at a five mile per hour pace.
So I peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the place that he was most likely headed and the place I most wanted him not to show up.
y did I feel my heart in my throat? Why did my stomach feel like it was about to explode? Why did I hate the name Holly on principle alone?
The dance team was making a circle around me, everyone kneeling around me, asking if I needed some water. I shook my head, looking up at where Jude was leading the team off the field. I could trust that man. I was falling in love with that man.
Like he could read my thoughts, he looked over just then, his eyes falling on me, a smile already in position until he took a good look at my face. He stopped abruptly as a wave of players passed him. The smile faded from his face as he jogged across the field towards me.
Not now, not now, I told myself. Halftime when he had twenty of the best coaches in the country here watching him was not the time to bring up Holly. Later, after the game, so I could put the Holly ghost that haunted me to rest.
“Luce,” he said, sliding his helmet off. “Are you all right?” Lifting his hands, he ran them over my face.
No was the honest answer, but yes was the answer I needed to give. Perhaps I needed to review the finer points of trust too.
“I’m fine,” I said, resting my cheek into his hand. “Just a little light headed. I forgot to eat dinner again,” I said, rolling my eyes like I was hopeless.
“Somebody get me some water!” Jude shouted. “And a granola bar or something!” Turning back at me, he kissed me softly. “Dammit, woman, you mean too much to me. Eat, okay?”
I nodded, taking the Styrofoam cup from someone’s hands.
“I’ve got a defensive line that needs a tongue thrashing, so I better get going.” He kissed my cheek and stood up.
“And a couple dozen scouts to impress,” I added, taking another sip.
“That’s already been taken care of,” he said, snapping his helmet back on.
I smiled. “All right, cocky, run along. I’ll wait for you after the game. I’ve got something planned,” I said, lifting my brows.
He stopped, glancing back, his face unreadable. “Hey, Luce, rain check on tonight, okay? I’m sore as all hell already and I’m going to be lucky if I can make it home upright. Tomorrow night?”
That stomach exploding feeling peaked. “Don’t you need a ride?”
“Meyers offered to drive me home,” he said, looking down the field. “That way you won’t have to wait for me and listen to a big baby crying for ice and painkillers.”
I couldn’t talk.
“I gotta go, Luce,” he said, jogging backwards. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” Turning around, he headed for Southpointe’s team tunnel. “Your turn to kick some dance ass on that field, Luce,” he hollered over his shoulder. “Don’t let me down.”
I bent my head over my knees. “You neither.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was staging a stake out on my own boyfriend. So much for the trust I was so confident I had in him a couple hours ago.
Southpointe, as anticipated, obliterated the top seeded team in the conference, making Southpointe, for the first time in its history, number one. Jude came back from halftime like a twenty-four point lead was inexcusable, widening that gap by another twenty-one. It was like watching a team of Gods play a team of mortals, Jude playing the part of Zeus.
I’d managed to suck it up and dance my ass off during halftime before running to the girls’ locker room and changing so I could blend into the herd of raving fans in the bleachers. I knew he was looking for me, even hurt I wasn’t down on the sidelines cheering him on, but I was in no mood to cheer. Not even in a mood to pretend to cheer and I couldn’t give him any reason to suspect something wasn’t right.
I couldn’t have him checking over his shoulder for his girlfriend, identifying her crouched down and hoodie up behind the wheel of her car. Because then, like the good, trusting girlfriend I wasn’t, I couldn’t tail him to see where he was really headed tonight.
It was nearing the hour mark following the end of the game, when almost all the players’ cars were long gone, when he emerged from the locker room. Scottie Meyers wasn’t with him, no other player was; he was alone.
People preach to you about pivotal moments like this one. Moments where you have two options, and one choice. One path to head down with no turning back. Choice numero uno: I could jump out of my car, run and throw myself in his arms, and keep playing the fool. That was appealing on just about every level.
And choice numero deus: I could stay put and follow him to wherever he led me, hopefully getting to the bottom of this whole Holly situation or discovering Sawyer was a lying sack of shit. This choice didn’t appeal to me at all, but it was the one I had to make.
Because I wasn’t one of those girls who could turn a blind eye while their boyfriend skirted around town. Because I wasn’t one of those girls that thought trust was a conditional, open to interpretation thing. Because I was one of those girls that needed to know if my boyfriend was screwing some ex flame behind my back so I could wind up miserable, heartbroken, but, at least, informed. I guess.
Jude skipped the parking lot, weaving through the weeds. Heading south.
As in SouthView Park.
Wherever he was going, he was traveling on foot, so that meant tailing him in the Mazda would be impossible. He’d probably get a little suspicious if a vehicle in my make and model followed a few car lengths behind him at a five mile per hour pace.
So I peeled out of the parking lot, heading for the place that he was most likely headed and the place I most wanted him not to show up.