By His Play

10. Kieran

10

KIERAN

I leave Effie standing in the middle of the bathroom with candlelight flickering around her.

Closing the door, I pray that it’s going to help her relax and get a good night’s sleep. Hell knows she needs it, and that sherry she started downing is going to help no one.

With the bottle in hand, I take it to the kitchen and immediately pour it down the drain. The bottle is dusty and the label is beginning to peel; I dread to think how old it is.

After tidying up a little, I head toward the guest room, stopping at the bathroom door for a beat to listen to her inside.

It’s quiet, and I can only hope that she’s okay.

As much as I might want to sit next to her, we both need a little space. Or at least, I do.

The revelations of the morning are still running rampant in my head.

I get it. I understand why she did it. But I still can’t get over the fact she kept it to herself, even after I showed up here.

With my teeth gritted in irritation, I continue forward.

Pulling my cell from my pocket, I put it on to charge and wait for it to power up.

I dread to think how many notifications will be on it and how far the gossip has spread.

I no longer care as much about the things that are written about me. Most of it is bullshit made up by pointless reporters, football “experts” who think they can criticize my performance like they have any fucking experience doing what I do, or women who think they can make a quick buck by selling their stories about spending the night with me.

In the beginning, I used to read it all, mostly for amusement value, but as the years have passed, I’ve learned to ignore it more and more. After a while, the stories begin to linger. The negative reactions to games and how I live my life started to impact my day to day, and I very quickly cut myself off.

The internet, while really fucking useful for many things, is also a cesspool.

After changing into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, I sit on the bed and reluctantly reach for my cell.

I have more missed calls and voicemails from Kat, Daniel, my agent, and Mom.

My group chat with the guys has blown up. There are more notifications than I can count, but without opening a single one of them, I know exactly what they’re talking about.

I have separate messages from a number of them, but it’s my teammate, Braxton’s, that I open.

He’s good people, and the words in the preview remind me of that.

Brax: Am I right to be suspicious? Here if you need anything.

I bite down on my bottom lip as my finger drums against the side of my cell.

He gets it.

It probably helps that he knows Effie fairly well too.

I wonder if he believes it. Probably not. He knows that we’re good friends. He’s ribbed me about it enough over the years. Even asked for permission to ask her out once, which I swiftly declined before punching him in the arm.

I’m cool with Effie dating. She’s been with a few guys over the years. None of them have been serious, though, mainly because none of them have been worthy of her.

She doesn’t have great taste in men. Her best friend aside, obviously.

I have messages from not only King and Kian, but also their girls, too.

The final one from Tate makes me laugh.

Tate: You need to ring your mother; she’s driving us all crazy wanting to know if she needs to go hat shopping.

Kieran: I’m amazed she hasn’t already got one just in case of a shotgun wedding.

I smirk as I hit send. I am known for being the unpredictable one, so I wouldn’t put it past her.

It shows she’s typing instantly.

Tate: She needs confirmation of a color theme first.

I laugh at the message, but I don’t reply. Instead, I open the thread from Kian’s girl.

Lorelei: As much as I really, really want to believe all this… it’s not true, is it?

I shake my head. Of course she wants it to be true. Lorelei is nothing but a romantic. How she ended up with Kian, who wouldn’t know romance if it slapped him in the face, is beyond me.

I’m looking through my other notifications when my cell starts ringing in my hand and Mom’s name and photo appear before me.

“No time like the present, I guess,” I mutter to myself.

Swiping the screen to answer the call, I press it to my ear and wait.

“At last. I’ve been trying to call you all day,” she says without any kind of hello.

“My battery died,” I lie.

“I’ve been going out of my mind, Kieran.”

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’m just so happy for you. I never thought it would happen, but?—”

“Mom,” I interrupt to stop the verbal diarrhea that I know is coming.

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. This is huge, Kieran. I’m so mad that you didn’t tell me yourself and let me find out online, but I’ll shout at you about that later.”

Flopping back on the bed, I let my hand and cell fall to the mattress as she continues telling me exactly where and what our ceremony should be like.

While King, Kian, and my closest friend have taken this news with a pinch of salt and more than a bit of skepticism, it seems that Mom is running full speed with it.

I let her talk. I know from experience that it’s better to let her run out of steam than it is to attempt to stop her. She’s been working on this all day; if she doesn’t expel it…I dunno, she might explode, maybe.

I have no idea how much time passes with her voice filling the guest room. I also have no idea what she’s saying.

It’s not until the sound of water running from the bath that I come back to myself.

“Mom,” I attempt, already knowing that I’m going to fail.

“It will be the perfect time. It’s the off-season and the weather will be beautiful. Just let me know when you want to book Effie an appointment with my designer. I just know that she’ll create the perfect?—”

“MOM,” I shout.

“Oh, Kieran,” she sighs, finally taking a breath. “I know I’m a little over-excited, but I’ve been waiting for this since you were both fifteen.”

I cringe.

“Mom, it’s not?—”

“The two of you...you’ve always been so perfect together. And the way you look at her...I’ve known for years that she’s the one for you. I’ve just been waiting for you to figure it out.”

“No, Mom. Effie and I are just?—”

“Perfect. Of course, she’s already one of the family, but I always knew she was going to be my daughter-in-law one day. I’m so excited,” she squeals again.

“Mom, you’re not listening to me. Effie and I aren’t getting married. This is all tabloid bullshit. I’m not in love with her. Effie is my best friend. That’s it. There is nothing else.”

“B-but you love her.”

“As a best friend, yes. But I’m not in love with her. I’ve never been in love with her,” I say, a little more forcefully than I intended.

A noise a few feet away catches my attention, and I lift my head just in time to see Effie fleeing down the hallway.

“Shit,” I hiss as I fully sit up. “Mom, I’ve got to go,” I say as she babbles in my ear.

Cutting her off, I jump to my feet, abandoning my cell on my bed as I chase after Effie.

Her door is ajar, and I press my palm against it as I whisper her name.

I cringe at myself for talking to her like she’s a cornered animal, but it doesn’t stop me from inviting myself in.

“Kieran,” she gasps, quickly gathering her towel back around herself.

“I’m sorry,” I say, stepping farther into the room.

“For what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Combing my hair back, I watch her as she awkwardly pulls a pair of sleep shorts on under her towel.

My mouth opens and closes, but no words spill free.

“Thank you for the bath. It helped.”

“It was my mom,” I explain.

“It doesn’t matter. Turn around, please,” she demands before glaring at me over her shoulder.

Doing as I’m told, I spin on the balls of my feet.

She’s already got her back to me; I can’t see anything.

Rolling my eyes at her over-the-top reaction, movement to my left catches my eye.

The mirror on her vanity.

I should look away. I know I should.

But…I can’t.

I also can’t breathe properly as I stare at her.

My heart, though, is in overdrive.

She really is beautiful.

As soon as she tugs her tank into place, I rip my eyes away and stare at the cream wall ahead of me, trying to ignore the guilt that wants to swallow me whole for watching my best friend get dressed.

“Okay,” she says, and I spin back to find her crawling into bed.

“She’s already planned the whole thing,” I explain.

“Who has?” she asks, clearly lost in her thoughts.

“My mom. She believed it and has spent the day planning everything.”

“Oh,” she breathes, a deep frown between her brows. “That’s…weird.”

“Yeah, well. You’ve met my mom, right?”

“Hmm,” she mumbles, and she sinks lower into the covers.

“Shit, I was going to make you a hot chocolate.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers before falling silent.

I don’t know if she’s fallen asleep or if she’s pretending.

Either way, I stand there at the end of her bed, watching her like a creep.

Every other night I’ve been here, I’ve slept with her. But everything feels different today.

I glance at the door, trying to decide what to do.

Ultimately, I turn away from her and close her door to give her some space.

I make myself a drink before taking it to the guest room.

Finding a series on Netflix, I rest against the headboard and grab my cell.

I don’t watch or hear anything from the TV. Instead, I lose myself in the gossip about me and Effie.

Somehow, people have managed to get hold of younger pictures of the two of us. They’ve even been to our old school and interviewed some of the teachers who apparently “fondly remember our special friendship” and just like Mom, thought it was only a matter of time before we took things to the next level.

The endless notifications continue. In the end, I turn them all off. I’m not interested in talking to anyone.

I look at the closed door more than once, wondering if I should go to her.

Is she asleep? Or is she lying there crying?

Does she need me, and I’m not there?

At some point, I must fall asleep, because I find myself waking up to a loud, agonizing scream.

I’m on my feet in a heartbeat and racing down the hallway.

Effie’s door crashes back against the wall as I fly into her room. But I come to a very abrupt stop when I find her sitting in the middle of her bed with her cell in front of her and tears streaming down her face, dripping onto the sheets beneath her.

“Effie, what’s?—”

She looks up at me with tear-filled eyes, and my heart jumps into my throat.

Devastation and heartbreak are written all over her face.

I know what she will say long before she opens her mouth.

“She’s gone,” she whispers so quietly I barely hear it, even in the silence.

“Effie,” I breathe, immediately crawling onto her bed and wrapping her in my arms.