All Played Out (Rusk University 3)

One look at my hard face, though, and they disappear. I shut the door, and with my back still to Nell, I take a deep, fortifying breath.

I turn, and take in the red plastic cups scattered around the room, which looks like a damn tornado has moved through it.

“Sorry about that. The Ping-Pong table is mine, so whenever we have parties, I let people use my room to play.”

“You didn’t have to kick them out for me,” she says

“If I hadn’t, you would have disappeared without saying another word to me, right?”

She shrugs in answer.

I cross to the table and start stacking empty cups just so I’ll have something to do with my hands. I’ve been thinking about talking to Nell all day, but now that she’s here, I don’t know how to start.

I can’t screw this up.

When I go too long without talking, she says, “Listen, I’m sorry about showing up like this. Stella and I were just planning to get in, check a couple things off my list, and be on our way.”

That snaps me out of it. “She knows about your list?”

She’s leaning against my far wall, a few feet to the left of my bed, and the sight is messing with my head. Especially because her hands are pressed up against the wall behind her like she needs it to keep her from falling.

“I told her today. We’re going to finish tonight. In fact, I’ve just got one item left.”

“What is it?” I ask, and she hesitates. “Come on, you already cheated me out of two firsts today, at least tell me this.”

If it’s something sexual . . . if she’s planning on checking it off without me . . . Fuck.

“I didn’t cheat you out of anything. They’re my firsts.”

Before I know what I’m doing, I’m crossing the room and planting my hands on the wall right beside her head, caging her in. She sucks in a breath, like she’s trying to take up less space so we won’t touch.

“We’ve covered this before. I called those firsts. You were supposed to do them with me.”

“Oh my God, do you hear yourself?” She tries to shove me away, but I don’t budge. “The world does not revolve around you, Mateo Torres.”

“Oh, so first I was a puppet, now I think the world revolves around me.”

“You don’t get to call my firsts. They’re mine. And why should I let you be first in anything when I’m just a second for you? It’s not fun being second choice, is it?”

She pushes on me again, but I reach up and grab her wrists, holding her hands on my chest. “You’re not my second choice, Nell.”

“My bad. I forgot about football. I guess that really does make me third, doesn’t it? Excuse the mistake in my math.”

“Nell,” I growl.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, though. You know, silly girl that I am, I actually came to your football game today.”

That rattles me. “You were there?”

“I was. But I left before the game started. I just didn’t feel like having to endure hours of watching you endanger yourself, to watch you put a sport above me, above yourself, above everything.”

“I didn’t.”

“You can justify it however you want, but I don’t want to listen to it.”

“Nell.” I drop her wrists to clasp her cheeks and force her eyes up to mine. “I didn’t play.”

She frowns, and that indentation between her brows pops up, and she lifts her chin stubbornly. “I saw you. You were in your uniform. Warming up. You were going to play.”

“I was going to, yeah. I had planned to play, and then as soon as the game was over, I was going to come find you. But then I realized that I couldn’t expect you to listen to what I had to say if I wasn’t willing to listen to what you said. That fight . . .” I shake my head and drop my hands from her face. Taking a step back, I say, “It was my fault. I wasn’t really listening to you. I was hearing what I wanted to hear. Things between us were getting real, fast. And it scared me. And then you were trying to tell me to be realistic about playing with a concussion, but I just heard Lina telling me to be realistic about football. About my dreams.”

Nell crosses her hands over her chest, and with her chin tilted up, she looks strangely vulnerable despite the fire in her eyes.

“So I have her to thank for why we got together, and why we broke up.”

“No.” I shake my head, fighting the urge to press her against the wall again. This would be so much easier if I could just kiss her, and that kiss could tell her all the things I’m doing such a shitty job of getting out of my mouth. “It’s not like that. You might have reminded me of Lina in the beginning, but not anymore. And what we have, what I feel, it’s not because you’re like her. It’s because you’re not. I should have known that you would never say that kind of thing, but that word . . . ‘realistic’ . . . it’s some kind of trigger for me. And all I could think was that you were going to end it, just like she did, because you’re so much better than me, Nell. And I don’t fucking deserve you. But that doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop wanting you.” I do cross to her then because I need to touch her, have to. I run my knuckles over her cheek, and her eyes flick down to the floor. “I didn’t play today. I was on the field for a handful of seconds before I walked off and told Coach Cole everything. I didn’t play, and I should have listened to you, and I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Nell.”

My voice is raspy by the time I finish, and I’m barely fighting off all the emotions clamoring for control.

When her eyes don’t lift to mine, I start to panic. I back away and pace along the length of the Ping-Pong table for a few moments, dragging my nails over my shorn head. I cross to the closet where I’d deposited my bag as soon as I came into my room and saw Nell. I unzip my duffel, and the spiral is lying there on top of my clothes and shoes and other junk. I pick it up and turn back to her.

“Ah, hell. I’m not good at this kind of thing, Nell. I know how to joke and flirt and screw around, but I haven’t had much practice being serious in a while. I don’t know how to get the words out, how to find the right ones. Not when there’s so much I want to say, and so many ways I could screw it up. I’m sorry that I yelled at you and started that stupid fight. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen about the concussion. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Lina. But mostly, I’m sorry that I let you go at all. I should have stopped you when you walked away or pulled you into my lap again in my truck or followed you back into your apartment. Anything but what I did.”