23. PARIS
PARIS
“Ugh, I look hideous.” Vanessa touches the bandage on her cheek.
I peel my eyes away from the road to glance at her. “You look as beautiful as always, kitten.”
“How can you say that? The right side of my face is twice as big as the left.”
“You’d look gorgeous even if your entire head was a giant watermelon.”
She twists her expression into an exaggerated scowl, making me laugh.
It sucks that she got hurt, but I’m still riding the high of her confession.
She said she’s been in love with me since we’re kids—pretty much as long as I’ve been in love with her.
I have yet to confess though, and as much as I wanted to say the words right then, it didn’t feel right professing my love when she had a bleeding cut on her face.
“You’re just saying that to get laid.”
“I’m not!” I retort, fighting the urge to laugh again.
She grows quiet, making me curious. I chance another look and find her facing the window.
I cover her hand with mine. “What’s wrong, kitten?”
“Nothing. Can we go to your place instead of mine? I mean, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay. Although, I have to head to practice in an hour.”
“Shit. I forgot you have a life besides coming to my rescue.”
I bring our joined hands to my lips and kiss the top of hers. “Being your knight in shining armor is my number one priority, sweetheart.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “I’m not a damsel in distress.”
Damn, and here I thought I was being romantic with my comment. I didn’t realize how sexist it was.
“I know you aren’t. You’re a fierce warrior, but even the most badass heroes can use help from time to time.”
She narrows her eyes. “Nice save.”
“So, why can’t you go home? I mean, not that I don’t love the idea of you in my bed, but I live with three loud and messy dudes.”
“Yeah, I’m aware of that. Heather asked for the house. Since she did me a solid yesterday, I can’t deny her the favor. But if you don’t want your roommates to know about us, I can call one of my teammates.”
“Are you crazy? You’re staying with me. I thought I made my point when I kissed you in front of everyone earlier.”
“Well, there weren’t a lot of people around us then.”
“Trust me, all it takes is one person for the rest of Rushmore to know.”
“Why? Because you’re on the football team?”
This sounds like a trap, so I’d better tread carefully. I know the Ravens aren’t happy that the football team gets tons of perks from the school administration while they have to fight for everything, even though they’re one of the best college soccer teams in the country.
“Well, yeah. And I’m not saying that because I’m cocky.”
“I know you aren’t.”
“Do you need to stop by your house to pack an overnight bag?” I change the subject before we plunge deeper into a topic that’s political and unpleasant.
“Nah, I can sleep in one of your T-shirts.”
“Or you can sleep wearing nothing at all.” I wink.
She runs a hand through her hair and pulls a section over her face to hide the bandage. “I have a better idea. I can wear your T-shirt over my head so you don’t have to look at this hideousness.”
“Hmm. I think you’re fishing for compliments, kitten.”
“Now you’re confusing me with my twin.”
A random song comes through the speakers, and Vanessa reaches for the volume dial. “I love this one.”
“Who sings this?” I ask. “Justin Timberlake?”
“Oh my god. Who are you? How can you not know ‘I Want It That Way’? It’s a Backstreet Boys classic!”
“You expect me to know songs by a nineties boy band? I wasn’t even born.”
“Okay, fine. This song came out in 1999. But it was featured in one of my favorite shows of all time.”
“I’m going out on a limb here and saying it’s not a fantasy series.” I smirk.
“Duh. Brooklyn 99 . It’s a hilarious cop show.”
“I think I’ve heard of it. You can introduce it to me when I get back from practice. Although I might have other things in mind.” I run a hand up her thigh, but she bats it away before I reach her pussy.
“I don’t feel sexy, so Jake Peralta will have to be your consolation prize.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, like I want a dude replacing my hot-as-sin girlfriend.”
“I’m your girlfriend?” The surprise in her voice is authentic, but it shouldn’t be. Hell, maybe I didn’t make myself clear yesterday.
I’m glad I have to stop at a red light so I can reply to her while looking into her eyes. “Yes. Did you have any doubt about that?”
“I wasn’t sure.” She shrugs. “Maybe it has to do with the fact we weren’t broadcasting our relationship to the world yet.”
Guilt pierces my chest like an iron spear, making me regret ever asking her to keep us a secret. She didn’t want to do it at first, and now I know she changed her mind because she loves me.
“I’m sorry. I was an idiot for wanting to hide that you’re my girl.”
A blaring car horn warns me I’m holding up traffic. Reluctantly, I switch my attention to the road and miss her reaction to my statement.
A moment passes before she says, “I never thought I’d confess this, but I love hearing you call me your girl . It’s even better than being your girlfriend.”
“Get used to it then, kitten. You were always my girl. I just lost sight of you for a while.”
She doesn’t reply, and I’m afraid I said something wrong. In my peripheral vision, I see her wipe the corner of her eye.
“Babe, are you crying?”
“What? No.” She looks out the window as she sinks into the car seat.
I turn on the blinker and park in the first spot I find, which is in front of an empty store with a For Rent sign.
“Is this where you live?” she asks.
“No.” I unbuckle my seat belt and pinch her chin to turn her face to mine. “You know you don’t need to hide anything from me, right, kitten?”
Her eyes go rounder. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“I made you cry. I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I’m just overly emotional these days. It’s probably PMS.”
“You have reason to be, even if it’s not PMS.” I cup her cheek. “I’m here for you. Always. I love you.”
Her breathing hitches. Then her eyes become brighter and rounder.
She looks away, covering her face with her hands.
Her body starts to shake, so I free her from the constrains of her seat belt and pull her into a hug.
A ragged sob escapes her lips, but I refrain from saying a word.
I let her cry for as long as she needs, her face pressed against my chest.
I suspected she was putting on a brave face in front of me, and like an idiot, I pretended she was fine.
But she isn’t, not by any stretch of the imagination, and I’m certain it all comes back to the evening she was attacked.
I need to do something. That son of a bitch can’t remain unpunished.
But using brute force isn’t the way to go, even if I’d love nothing more than to give him the ass-kicking of his life.
I need to find another way to make him pay.