Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
reeve
“Hey.” Cam leans against the doorframe in my room the next evening. “Where are you headed tonight?”
“Jade’s.”
“So that’s why you’ve been messing with your hair for the last thirty minutes.”
“She’s good with hair. I’m just trying to keep up.”
“So this is really happening? You and Jade?”
“Depends what you mean by ‘happening.’” I turn my head to check the sides of my hair in the mirror. “I like hanging out with her.”
“Are you bored, son? Is that it?” He walks in and drops into my desk chair, mussing my hair on his way past. “Because if you need something to do, we’ve got a football season to win.”
“No shit. You don’t need to tell me where to put my head, Cam,” I say, harsher than necessary.
He holds his hands up. “I know, man, no one’s questioning your dedication. I’m just curious what your endgame is with Jade.”
“No endgame. You know me. Only game I care about is football.”
“Yeah, but I see disaster written all over you and Jade. And I don’t know who’s gonna get fucked worse: you, her, or me.”
“We’re just hanging out. All we’ve even done is kiss a couple times, but since Jade’s a total loudmouth, I guess you already knew that.”
“You’re going to her place tonight?”
“Just for Spanish.”
“You like her,” he says. “A lot.”
“I don’t even know her that well,” I argue. Then I catch Cam’s eye and shrug. I can’t hide much from him. “Yeah, I like her. She’s easy to be around, you know? She’s fun. I don’t have to worry about what she wants from me.”
“I get that, but you lead her on and I guarantee she’s not going to go quietly into the night when things don’t turn out the way she expected.”
I wave him off. “No, man, we’re on the same page.
Neither of us wants a relationship. I’ve got football to focus on and she’s got her school plans.
Nine months from now, we’ll be living on opposite sides of this world, and we’ll barely even remember each other.
” I busy myself adjusting my belt so Cam can’t see the lie written all over my face.
Nine months or nine years, I’ll still remember every minute I’ve spent with Jade.
“You’re playing with fire.”
“You don’t like us together?”
“Actually, I think you two are sorta cute together. But pretending you’ve hit the jackpot and you two can just coast on friendship and no-strings sex? That never works. You know it.”
“We’re not having sex.”
He smirks. “Okay, I’ll come back tomorrow morning and try my speech again.”
“Right on,” I say with a grin. “It was her idea to meet at her place. I think she was annoyed about being shushed at the library last time.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s why.” He shakes his head. “Jade’s a trip.”
“Amen.” I check my hair one last time and head for the door. “Thanks for the concern, Cam. I know Lenni’s in your ear about me and Jade, but she can chill. I don’t have any secrets up my sleeve. Jade and I want the same thing.”
Jade looks smokin’ hot when I show up to her place.
She’s changed her hair—instead of the pink with the dip-dyed red ends, it’s a badass shade of dark maroon and hangs down her back in a glossy curtain.
Her dress is simple and black and hangs almost to her ankles, but it hugs her body in all the right places and is cut low enough I’m powerless not to stare at the curve of her breasts, which are clearly not contained by a bra.
She looks like something out of a James Bond movie.
“Nice hair,” I say.
“Likewise.”
I’m half expecting to find her apartment scattered with candles and rose petals—why else would she schedule tutoring at her place?
—but I should have known better than to think she was that predictable.
It’s not exactly a sexy scene. There are papers piled on the table, a laundry basket on the floor with half-folded bras and panties and socks, and the TV blaring some reality show with a couple of dipshit drunk ladies in a catfight.
“I’d offer you a drink,” Jade says, gathering up the papers on the table, “but we need to kick these Spanish lessons into high gear. I found out today one of the schools I’m looking at is hosting in-person interviews in New York in December, and my adviser says I might have a shot at getting an interview. ”
“In Spanish?”
“Part of it.”
“So it’s on me to whip you into shape by December?”
She gives me a pleading look.
I blow out a breath. “Shit, you better make us a couple pots of coffee.”
She smiles and gives me a hug that’s way too short. “Thank you.”
“En espanol?”
“Oh. Sí, senor. Um, sí, yo voy a cocinar il caffè. Mucho caffè.”
I let out a hoot. “Il caffè? I don’t even know what language that is.”
“Sorry, I took Italian in high school.”
“You took Italian in high school and you’re still this bad at Spanish?”
She gives me an indignant look, but her eyes are glittering.
“Know what? Forget the coffee, better make it cocaine.”
Jade is lucky she looks so good tonight because her attitude is making me want to quit the tutoring thing altogether.
We’re not even an hour in and she’s pissy she hasn’t mastered irregular verbs, which means I’m choosing my words carefully and hoping she doesn’t bite my head off the next time I remind her the rules she keeps trying to use for these verbs don’t apply.
“I’m sorry,” she says, throwing down her pen after her fifth failed attempt at conversation. “I just suck at Spanish.”
“No, you don’t. These verbs are tough.” I can tell she’s ready to quit, and I’m not letting that happen. I want this for her. I want to be the reason she succeeds.
Her hands are tight fists on the tabletop. “I must be nuts to think I can make this work. Trying to become fluent in a matter of months?”
“You’re definitely nuts, but it’s a safe bet you’ve been that way a long time. The Spain thing, though? You’re already making it work.”
She snorts. “Sam always used to say I lacked focus. He hated it.”
“Sam sounds like a fuckin’ snooze fest.”
She allows herself a small smile. “I guess so. He was probably right, though. I don’t know how you stay so dedicated to football week after week, year after year.”
“It’s easy. Just have no other options.” When she gives me a doubtful look, I add, “I’m serious. I’m not good at anything else.”
“No way that’s true. Hello, you’re teaching me Spanish!”
“Yeah, okay, you’re right. I could either be an NFL quarterback or an unpaid Spanish tutor. Tough choice.”
“I don’t believe you’re not good at anything else. Unless you’re paying someone to do all your schoolwork for you. Shafer’s not an easy school.”
“I do my own schoolwork—I’ve got the shitty grades to prove it. But forget hobbies. I crush in football. There is nothing else.”
She thinks on that, considering me, before she answers. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but football is the least interesting thing about you.”
I’m caught in the look she gives me, feline eyes watching me from underneath her long lashes. The space between us seems to shrink.
“Anyway,” she says, breaking my gaze. “I respect your dedication to football. I just don’t have that kind of drive.”
“Is that what you think or what Sam thinks? Because I look at your plans and you wouldn’t have made it this far if you weren’t driven.”
“Uh-huh.” She turns to the paper on the table.
“I mean it. You can’t let his words become your thoughts.”
“You should add motivational speaker to your list of potential careers.”
“Actually, I stole that from my high school coach.”
“Plagiarist.”
She’s trying to keep it light, but I don’t want to. I’ve hated Sam since the night at the bar when he made Jade cry, and I don’t want her to let him off the hook. “Seriously, Jade. Sam’s a complete dick. Get him out of your head.”
She looks at me sharply. “He is out of my head. The relationship left a couple scars, that’s all. Don’t they all?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I’d like to think not. Maybe scars are a sign of a shit relationship.”
She scowls. “It wasn’t a shit relationship.”
“If he hurt you this bad? It was. He was never good enough for you.”
“You don’t even know him, so how could you know anything about our relationship?”
“Well, there’s what you’ve told me. And there’s what’s completely obvious to anyone with eyes.”
“Is that right?” she asks, irritation simmering in her voice.
“Clearly.”
She huffs. “Well, I was stupid enough to believe we were amazing together. Right up until the day my illusions blew up in my face.” Her chair screeches across the floor as she stands up suddenly, her expression streaked with anger. She storms over to the bathroom and slams the door.
I sit for a minute, too surprised to do anything else.
Does this chick have a temper or what? Then I hear the unmistakable sound of snuffling on the other side of the door.
She’s crying. Guilt washes over me. Instinct tells me to go to her and put my arms around her, but Jade’s nothing if she’s not proud.
She’s not going to melt into my arms. She’s more likely to fight me off like a trapped animal.
I give her a minute. When there’s only silence from the bathroom, I walk over and knock softly.
“Jade?”
No answer.
“Jade, I’m sorry.”
Still no answer. Then the bathroom door opens. She’s standing in front of the mirror, running a Q-tip under her eyes where her makeup has run while she sniffles. “Screwed up my eyeliner,” she says without looking at me.
I walk in and stand behind her, watching her in the mirror. “I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed anything about you and Sam.”
“It’s not you. I shouldn’t have blown up like that. There’s another thing Sam hated about me: I’m a hothead.”
“See, I actually like that in a woman. The sound of vases smashing against a wall really gets me going.”
She rewards me with a small smile, but it disappears quickly. Sighing, she meets my eye in the mirror. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is fragile. “Truth is, it was kind of a shit relationship, but that’s mostly on me. I didn’t see it that way until it was way too late. It’s myself I’m mad at.”