59. king
CHAPTER 59
KING
STUPID SHIT I DIDN'T EVEN SIGN UP FOR
It felt like I got curb stomped in the nuts and everybody wanted to congratulate me on it.
When you receive the honor of being a team captain for the Romans, tradition stands to give a speech. I took the plaque from Steve Tuck, hall of famer from the nineties, and walked over to Ryan and our two special team captains for the season. Tuck asked if I had any words, I stayed silent. Everyone burst into laughter.
I was supposed to go to Willow’s show at a club in downtown Austin, but instead I found myself at a bar with donors, investors, coaches, and Ryan himself, clapping me on the back.
"I knew it was going to be you." He chuckled. "The girls are damn excited."
"I talked to Lawson about this. I’m not captain material."
"You talked to him last year, this is a new season."
"Adam trained since he was four-years-old?—"
"Adam has pissed off every player on this team at least fifty times—what are you talking about?" Ryan tried to pass me a beer but I refused. "You’re a fantastic player, you can handle running drills, you lead defense during games, you work well with others, you’re going pro—King. King! "
I made my way to Coach Lawson, who grinned the moment he spotted me. "Kid, it’s going to be a goddamn delight?—"
"Sir. Willow needs her car."
"What?"
"If you want to get closer to her, she needs her Keyland Aurora."
Because I can’t be guaranteed for rides anymore.
He shifted uncomfortably. "That’s not really my call, kid. Her dad’s dealing with that and I don’t want to get in the middle of it."
Fuck.
"But I appreciate it. See, this is why I can’t understand why you turned down the offer last year. This is captain behavior. Taking on goddamn initiative. This is what you were meant to do."
I stayed silent.
For hours I sat in a booth with a cup of water, everyone taking photos of me and the plaque. It wasn’t until three that we were released back to the hotel when I discovered my room key didn’t work.
"It’s not lighting at the door," I told the front desk and flashed my ID. "I’m in two-twenty-eight."
"Uh, you’re in five-oh-four."
Ryan relaxed next to me. "I’m proud of you, man."
"Thanks, Ryan." I nodded to him, still facing the desk. "All of my stuff is in two-twenty-eight."
And my girlfriend.
"But your name isn’t on the reservation, sir. It’s Willow Pruitt’s room."
"Did you two switch rooms?" Ryan asked.
"Yeah, we switched rooms," I lied and pulled out my phone.
Me
Angel
Are you awake
The front desk agent continued to tell me there was nothing she could do, and Ryan kept talking about the captain ceremony.
Me
Please say youre awake
I couldn’t go to sleep with Willow, three floors below me. I needed to see her. Even if she was already asleep, if I could just climb into bed with her, I’d be fine.
Me
I need to see you
I relented on the new card and stalled in the elevator while Ryan grinned. "Congratulations, King."
I nodded, still staring at the screen.
Me
Please Willow
Please wake up
I thumped the end of my phone against my forehead, wrestling with a shitty, fucking decision. It was late. Willow needed her sleep. But I needed her badly, I couldn’t sleep without her tonight, and I was sick that a stupid plastic card was keeping us apart.
If there were metal coat hangers in the closet, I could break into the room, but it’d take time and I didn’t want anyone stumbling onto what the hell I was doing.
Feeling like shit, I called her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
The call skipped a few times in the elevator and started for real as I walked out of the second floor.
Nothing .
Fine, I didn’t care, I’d figure out the coat hanger situation. If my room didn’t have any, I’d break into a maintenance closet or something, and I’d give some excuse if someone walked by?—
A sleepy voice picked up. "Mm?"
I exhaled. "Willow, they—uh—my card deactivated."
"King?"
I nodded, fumbling for the right words. "Can I—uh—can I?—?"
"I’ll leave the latch open."
It was a two-thousand-pound weight off my shoulders. I strode down the hallway, blood finally pumping in my body. That didn’t work. I broke into a sprint and rounded the corner, coming to a sudden stop at the door, just beginning to open.
The only light came from the lamp by the bed. There she was, in her pajamas, bonnet on, yawning wide.
"I tried to stay up," she apologized, her voice a murmur. "The whole day’s been?—"
I shut the door, wrapping my arms around her, crushing her into a hug, accidentally lifting her off the floor a few inches. I needed to touch her again. Becoming team captain was supposed to be the highlight of my senior year and I couldn’t tell anyone else how it actually impacted me. I set her back on the ground and buried my face in her neck.
"Good morning, team captain," she gasped.
She was so excited for me.
I released her and crossed to the bed, sitting at the edge. I started untying my dress shoes. I needed to say something. What could I say?
"Hey? What’s going on?"
I slipped my phone from my pocket and pulled out the new schedule for the summer Cleo’s replacements sent me.
"Oh. Wow . They have you booked."
I started unbuttoning my dress shirt. Counting from five was my go-to to clear my head when I started to overthink and panic but I counted the number five over and over again until I couldn’t even unbutton my shirt. I couldn’t think beyond the number five.
"King?"
I was silent.
Willow stroked the side of my face. I leaned into her touch without thinking about it. Her voice softened. "Tattoos?"
"I don’t want to be team captain."
"But…it’s a huge honor?" Her fingers stilled and there was a long pause between us. "Football isn’t my thing and even I know that."
The words burst like a dam broke.
"My mom’s not taking care of herself and I know it." I squeezed my eyes shut. "They told me they can work with her hospital visits but I can’t fuck up with that. And I’m not Ryan. I’m not any of these other senior players. I’m not captain material." I looked up at her again, choked with disappointment. "I want to go to your shows again and I want to spend time with you and now I have to do this stupid shit I didn’t even sign up for."
"Oh, King."
"I don’t want this. I don’t want any of it."
"Can you…say no?"
"I did last year. I didn’t think Coach would seriously keep my name in the running. Now, it’s too late. I can’t."
Willow tugged me closer, pressing my face to her chest. She was warm. The smell of her body butter calmed me down a hell of a lot more than counting did. I breathed her in, focusing on that. Focusing on her.
"It’s going to be okay." She stroked the back of my neck, bringing goosebumps.
I pulled her up to my lap and held her tight.
"I’m really glad you answered," I mumbled. "I was going to break in with a coat hanger."
She kissed my hair, as I curled up against her, as close to her as I possibly could be. How could I have missed out on this? The panic had been at the back of my throat for hours and now my chest cavity wasn’t being punched out.
"What do you mean your mom’s not taking care of herself?" she asked softly.
"She’s only been a diabetic for a couple of years, and I’ve been trying to get her to go to the group sessions, and work on the meal plans, and stop smoking. It’s everything, combined together. I know it’s hard for her, but every time she calls—even if it’s to say hi—it scares the shit out of me." I stopped myself. "Sorry."
"Don’t be sorry."
"I’m sorry anyway. It’s not your job to worry about this. It’s mine."
"It doesn’t change the fact I still worry about you."
She worries about me?
I nestled in closer, my shoulders finally relaxed. I didn’t realize how tense I was. They fucking hurt.
"I can’t imagine how hard that is to navigate," she whispered. "Especially when she’s your mom and you want her to be happy."
"And I want to go to your shows," I mumbled. It was pretty pathetic, but I wasn't in the mood to give a shit about that.
Willow squeezed me. "You already have a gold star."
For days, I’d been hitting them up with her, and it was so much better than going by myself. I got to watch her in action, making connections, playing her instruments, working on her songs. I was grateful she let me come at all, but it didn’t end there. After the shows, we’d split something at one of the endless food trucks nearby, and if Kassie wasn’t there, we’d walk around Austin, hands intertwined. It was magical.
But this was the last night.
Tomorrow, we’d head back to Marrs, and I needed to come face to face with a schedule I wasn’t expecting.
Fuck.
She ran her fingers along my jaw. "I think you’re going to make a great captain."
I grunted.
"They didn’t pick the wrong person. You just don’t see it yet."
"I don’t need compliments, Angel."
"What do you need?"
"I just need you."
She leaned away from me—the opposite of what I wanted—putting her hands on either side of my face, which was pretty good. And I had a great view. Her lips.
"I want to help." She bit her lip. "I don't know how to do that though."
My cock stiffened.
We were having a deep conversation but the sight of her biting her lip…I cleared my throat. "Sorry. That’s an automatic around you."
"So this is why you were going to break in?"
"No, I wouldn’t have woken you up."
"The boner against my ass would have."
I was going to argue—I would’ve been incredibly respectful during my break-in—but Willow’s fingers went to the buttons of my shirt.
"Is this okay?" she whispered.
I nodded. "Please."
"Because if you want to talk, we can talk. I don’t want you to think I’m shutting you out."
"I don’t think that."
Her fingers stilled. "I don’t know what’s best for you right now."
Cupping her cheek, I drew her close, touching her like I wanted to for hours. I captured her lips for a kiss and a little whimper slipped out of her.
If I was hard before, I was rock-hard now.
"You, naked, would be pretty good for my stress levels," I muttered, kissing her again.
"If you want to talk, we can talk."
"I really want to kiss you."
I broke apart to slip her shirt off, revealing her perfect fucking breasts, inches from me. Blood pounded in my ears, my hands went to them like magnets.
"This is still okay?" she asked, breathless.
"More than fucking okay. Emotionally, this is good for me."
She gave a throaty laugh that made my whole-body pulse for her. "I'd love to sleep in, but I’m really not upset about this."
"Is this the secret to waking you up? It’s not the fifty alarms I make for you?"
"Don’t tell anyone you figured it out."
"It’s our last night in Austin, and if we want an early breakfast together…?"
"If you feel me up, that should do it," she teased.
"How fast do you think you’d wake up from getting head?"
"I don’t know." She moaned when I ran my tongue along her nipple and pulled it into my mouth. "I—I guess you’d have to try."