Jameson (Face-Off 4)

“Do you know your name?”

I nod, making eyes at the doctor, as if he’s crazy. “Yes. It’s Victoria Reynolds.”

He shines a tiny flashlight in my eyes and does the obligatory check to make sure I’m okay. My double vision of the field is probably temporary, which is why I don’t bother to mention it. I’ve broken bones before. This is nothing.

“Good. Do you know what today is?”

“Saturday,” I say, hoping this doesn’t go on much longer. I hate unwanted attention. The last thing I need is to be labeled as Bash’s ex who made a scene at the season opener. The rumor mill will churn, same as always. If Bash so much as sneezes, the campus knows about it. And anyone seen with him is always a target.

“Other than the bruised cheek, I’m perfectly fine,” I say to Dr. Holland, attempting to make my words sound believable.

Ten minutes pass before Dr. Holland is satisfied with the outcome of his tests. Apparently, I don’t have any major signs of a concussion. I would’ve thought the opposite with how my body had responded to Bash. Or maybe I’m losing my shit. Because why on earth would I think of Bash in that way ever again? He still disgusts me. He should repulse me. Except he doesn’t. And I kind of hate myself for it.

After helping me to my seat next to Jessica, Dr. Holland hovers over me with a concerned look in his eyes. “You don’t have any warning signs, but that doesn’t mean your situation can’t change. I want you to be careful for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours. No drinking, drugs, or any kind of strenuous activity.”

Jessica laughs but keeps her mouth shut. The last thing she needs to mention is the after party in front of the doctor.

“No problem.” I give him a forced grin, even though my face and head hurt like hell, causing the lines on the field to blur. “Thank you.”

“Take it easy, Victoria.” He smiles, then shoves his medical instruments into the leather bag, and hooks it over his shoulder. “You can have a delayed reaction. It happens to my players all the time. Don’t take anything I’ve told you for granted.”

I feign a smile. “Of course.”

“I’ll take excellent care of her, Doc,” Jessica chimes in. She hooks her arm through mine, putting my biceps in a vise. “I won’t let anything bad happen to my bestie.”

Dr. Holland hands me a card. “Call me if anything changes. My cell phone number is on the back.”

“I will. Thank you.”

I stuff the card into my pocket as he walks away.

“Is he serious about not being able to drink tonight? That completely ruins my plans.” Jessica sounds like a child complaining about not getting their way.

I do an internal happy dance because I take this incident as a valid excuse to bail on the dreaded party. But Jessica doesn’t see it that way.

“You have to come with me,” she says, her eyes pointed at the field. She practically salivates over Clay as she continues, “You are not getting out of this that easily. We are a team.”

I hold my hand up to my forehead, pretending to faint. “I think I feel something coming on.” Trying to hold back my laughter, I fail. Miserably.

“You’re not funny, Tori. I have been looking forward to this for weeks. We had it all planned out.”

“No,” I correct, “you had it all planned out. I just listen to you ramble on about how you’re finally going to have sex with Clay.”

She presses her index finger to her lips and looks over her shoulders at the people behind us on the bleachers. “Shh! Clay would have a stroke if anyone heard you say that.”

How Clay has waited this long to have sex with Jessica shocks the hell out of me. A guy like Clay—the starting quarterback of our team, good-looking, and rich—has girls throwing themselves at him all day long. Just like Bash. They’re practically twins. Jessica is beautiful beyond words, but I’m still surprised he hasn’t bailed, like his jerk of a friend did to me.

“Calm down, Jess.” I stroke her forearm with my fingers. “I’ll make an appearance, but I can’t promise I will stay all night. I really don’t feel good after getting smacked in the face and knocked down by Bash. He’s not exactly a small guy, and the tip of the football hit at me like a dart.”

She lets out a relieved sigh. “I’m calm. Just glad that you’re not ditching me.”

I force a closed mouth smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“But I completely understand if you need to leave,” she adds, with a hopeful expression on her face.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me. This night is about Clay popping your cherry.” I chuckle at the last part. “I won’t let this ruin your celebration.”

“You’re so vulgar.” She smacks me on the leg. “Why do you have to say things like that?”