Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (48 page)

“The truth is, Flor,” I began, sucking in a massive breath, “I'm
not
okay.”

He frowned and my resolve faltered just a little.

“Drive,” Flor said suddenly, and I blinked at him. When I didn't immediately start the car, he nodded his chin at the windshield and repeated himself, voice low and rough, like there was something stuck in his throat. “Drive. Go.” When I hesitated again, his eyes locked onto mine and cut straight through me.

I turned the damn key.

I pulled the car out of the space and took off through three green lights and a red before I remembered that I had no idea where I was going. I decided to keep heading straight and go back to my apartment. If this went the way I wanted, the way I was hoping, then we'd be having a long talk, best kept out of the curious reaches of other ears. Addi would be in class right now, so we'd have the apartment to ourselves. I could've gone to Flor's place since it was much closer, but I didn't know if Rhonda would be there. What if she'd moved in already or something? I shivered.

Silence descended, digging its deadly claws into my shoulders, making me even more tense than I already was. For ten long, agonizing minutes, neither of us spoke. It wasn't until we'd left Springfield and entered downtown Eugene that I finally got the courage to keep talking.

Flor beat me to it.

“Is it Max?” Flor asked, and the anger in his voice made me acutely aware that I better fess up and quick or Flor's best friend was likely to suffer for my sudden indecision. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” I said quickly and then, just because I felt like this was the time for honesty, “not anything other than my feelings.” I lifted my right hand to stop Flor before he could speak, keeping my eyes on the street and the shops that lined either side. The downtown Eugene area was going through a serious revitalization, too, getting proper street lamps for the first time in a long time. Most of the shop fronts were full and the crowd looked vibrant. I was happy to see the area coming to life; it was the only place in the world I'd want to live anyway. Well, at least for now. Maybe if this tactic of mine worked, I could pry myself away from the one landmark I couldn't seem to live without: my stepbrother. “He and I … we dated for a while after I turned eighteen.”

I hazarded a quick glance at Flor and noticed that his lips were pursed.

“I know,” he said, and his voice had dropped to a gruff whisper. “I practically beat the truth out of him after you called.” He gave me another look and shook his head, dark hair falling onto his forehead. I wanted to reach out and brush it back, run my fingers across his skin and see if, maybe, just maybe, his pulse would jump in response to my touch. “So it was him, wasn't it?”

“What do you mean?”

“That took your virginity. It was Max.” That part wasn't a question, so I didn't bother to answer. “He's bad news,” Flor said, getting out a cigarette and putting it between his lips. He rolled the window down and leaned his arm on the door, but he didn't light up. “I mean, he's my best friend and I love the bastard and all, but he's a whore, Abi.”

“Flor,” I began, but he wasn't done.

“He's no good for you. He won't admit it, and he keeps it pretty well hidden, but I know he cheats on you.” My heart skipped a beat. I'd thought about that, of course, but I could never prove it, so I didn't even bother to bring it up. “Max isn't the right guy for you, Abigail.”

Then who is? Certainly not you.

I kept the words to myself.

“Flor,” I said, feeling a small shiver work its way up my spine. This was going to hurt,
bad.
I could already tell. I circled around the block and pulled up in front of my apartment, grabbing the last space on the street. “I didn't come to the shop today to talk to, or even about, Max.”

“Then what did you come to talk about?” he asked, and I felt my breath hitch.
Do it, Abigail. Do it before you think better of it.

I spun in my seat and I knew I looked desperate, that I'd lost all of my earlier confidence.

“Flor.” His name fell from my lips like a promise.

The second that syllable slid over my tongue, I saw his eyes widen. His unlit cigarette fell from his mouth and hit the seat, bouncing off to land on the floor.

“Flor,” I said again, forcing myself to clear my throat. If I was going to do this, to say this, I had to sound strong.

“No,” he said suddenly, his voice little more than a whisper.

I paused and my hesitation cost me everything.

“No,” he said again, opening up his door.

“Flor, wait!” I said, confused, hurt, not understanding what was going on.

“No, Abigail, no,” he said suddenly, spinning back to me and reaching out with those beautiful fingers, taking hold of my chin. “Don't say it. Don't.”

“You don't even know what I'm going to say,” I whispered back, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Shock took over, temporarily replacing my pain, when Florian leaned over and kissed the drops from the corners of my eyelids.

“I know what you're going to say, but the answer is no, and I can't, and I have to go.” He pulled his hand back and stepped out onto the sidewalk, pausing again to lean down and look me straight in the face. His expression was unreadable. “Don't ever say it, Abigail, because if you do … if you do … ”

“Hey, you!”

It was Addison, a cloth shopping bag in one hand and a smile on her face. She raised her other hand to wave at us from across the street. I should've known she'd rather play hooky and go shopping than go to class. Glancing over at her gave Flor enough time to shut the door and take a step back before I spun towards him again, ripping off my seatbelt and scooting over towards the passenger seat, curling my fingers around the open window.

“Flor,” I called out, but he was already moving away, down the street and towards the bus station. “Flor!” He didn't stop, didn't turn around and look at me. I watched him walk away, watched him slump down on the bench and stay there. I could've gone after him, physically anyway, but emotionally? I felt liquid on my cheeks and reached up to touch my tears.

I couldn't even
tell
him how I felt, couldn't get this off my chest; he wouldn't let me. This pain, this shame I had inside of me, it was starting to look like I'd be stuck with it forever.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My heart felt like it was in the middle of an emotional apocalypse, like I was looking at a world suddenly stripped of color. If I'd thought harboring these feelings for so long had been difficult, knowing that Flor had purposely denied me the chance to admit to them was even worse.
But why, Flor? Why?
Why look at me so tenderly, touch me so sweetly, and then run off like that?
Nobody's ever kissed my eyelids before.
It was that gentle touch that had really undone me.

Don't ever say it, Abigail, because if you do …

If I did, then what could possibly happen? And did he even know what I was going to say? Was that it? Or was there some sort of cosmic misunderstanding here that was shooting us both in the foot?

I rolled over and grabbed my Pepsi off the nightstand, twisting off the cap and bringing it to my lips.
This is what my heart feels like, like a bottle of soda.
It was a stupid analogy, not very poetic or Shakespearean, but it was true. You could shake the bottle as much as you wanted and as long as you didn't open the top, all the fizz would stay inside. Well, too late. I'd been shaken and stirred and dipped and dropped all my life, tossed around by my emotions for Flor like debris in a tornado, and now, I'd popped the top. And Flor, that know-it-all
asshole,
had tried to shove the cap back on.

Too late.

I was already bubbling over with hurt and confusion and regret.
I should've kept my big mouth shut.

“Are you being contemplative again?” Addi asked, pausing in the doorway to my bedroom. She was all dolled up, eyes traced with gold and black and lips lined in red, making me feel even less like a human and more like a mop. A saggy, dirty, droopy, wet mop. “Because we don't have time for that. I haven't even done your makeup yet. Here, I brought you some goodies to make you feel better.”

I eyed these supposed presents suspiciously. Sometimes, I thought Addison just bought me clothes because she liked to dress me up, like I was her own personal doll or something. Or maybe it had to do with the whole 'motherless vacuum' thing. Granted, River and I had never had that sort of relationship, the kind where you go shopping together and hang out. Maybe I needed this? “Come on, get up, get dressed, and forget about Satan's Spawn for a little while. Stop playing these games with him.”

Addi moved over to stand next to me, giving the homework spread across my bed a dirty look. Draped over her right arm was a sultry little party dress in burnished bronze. It had a high neckline, but was scandalously short; it was also
way
too fancy for a night at the movies.
Which I should never have agreed to in the first place.
I felt tired just thinking about it, especially considering there was a shoe box in the crook of her other arm. The shoes inside were probably fabulous, but also potentially deadly; I wasn't used to walking on stilts. Addison was a notorious shopaholic, but she'd already modeled the new outfit she'd bought for the evening. This could only mean one thing.

“Just Satan, remember? Not Satan's Spawn. And the dress better be the
only
goody you have for me tonight,” I said, closing my chemistry textbook and sitting up on my bed. I'd also agreed – reluctantly – to a double date with Addi and Patrick. One, because I was sick and tired of sulking around the apartment and two, because Max had suddenly upped his game. He'd brought me flowers, stayed in and pigged out on ice cream during girls' night with Addi, even taken me on a romantic dinner date. I still wasn't much in the mood for going out, but I was making an effort. “There is no way I'm going to squeeze into that thing.” The fabric shimmered as Addi thrust it out at me, her skintight zebra patterned dress only emphasizing how skinny she really was. Yesterday, she'd locked herself in the bathroom and dyed her ecstatic curls a white-blonde color. At first I wasn't sure about it, but it was growing on me. Or maybe she was just too hip for me. I fingered my brunette curls and sighed.

“Oh, stop that,” Addi said, dropping her arms by her sides and tilting her head to glare at me. “So Flor freaked out and acted like the weirdo we always knew he was. It's been a
week,
bitch. Get up and let's go.” She marched over to me and dropped the dress and shoes on the white bedspread. “I spent good money on that stuff, so don't say a word. You
are
wearing it.”

I sighed and groaned, leaning back into the pillows and pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. Addi's favorite perfume, some sort of cinnamon-vanilla mixture, wafted around me as she leaned over and whispered into my ear.

“Oh, and we're not seeing a movie tonight. There's a concert at the WOW Hall. We're going.”

I pulled my hands away from my eyes.

“The WOW Hall?” I asked, pushing myself up onto my elbows. The WOW Hall was a little concert venue a few blocks from our apartment. I'd frequented it with my friends in high school, getting drunk on whatever we could find before we even hit the front door, and then watching bands whose names I'd already forgotten.

I wrinkled my nose.

Those were not my fondest memories, foggy and forgettable evenings drinking Everclear and trying to show Flor that I was just as boss and badass as he was (which was actually so not true). Only, at that point he'd already moved out, so he wasn't even around to see me make a fool of myself. To me, a concert at the WOW Hall meant a tightly packed venue, sweaty bodies, ear splitting bass beats, and probably a mosh pit or two or three. I already had a pulsing headache from trying to deal with the follow-up questions to my spectroscopy lab in forensic chemistry; those were the last things I needed, and I told Addison so.

“Get up, get dressed,” she repeated, fluffing her hair and checking her makeup briefly in my vanity mirror, yet another gift from my stepmom, another random, insignificant reminder that Flor and me equaled impossible. “I invited Theo and his new boyfriend, Yuu, to go with us. Actually, it was kind of his idea in the first place.” She paused and had the decency to look at least a little guilty when she added, “I may or may not have told him everything. By the way, he says Flor throws more shade than a beach umbrella, whatever that means.” Addi smoothed her hands over the sequins on her dress in a nervous gesture. “You're not upset, are you? I know the wound's still raw.”

“You mean, did I know you guys shared everything? Because that's kind of a no-brainer. My only question would be if you and Theo shared gossip about me via old fashioned post or through a series of cryptic tweets? And by the way, does Patrick know the full extent of your platonic love affair with Miss Theo MacFabulous?” I asked with a slight smile, referring to Addison's sinfully beautiful drag queen friend by his stage name. Unlike Rhonda, Addi's elementary school pen pal really
was
a dude in a dress. We'd all sat together at the same table in second grade, but by the end of the year, Theo's parents were already making plans to move to Portland. I hadn't seen him since, but he and Addi had this weird, pseudo romantic relationship with one another where they actually scribbled out handwritten letters and mailed them back and forth. Of course, they also used FaceTime, Instagram, and Twitter, but I think the handwritten stuff was their favorite form of communication. “He's in town?”

“Possibly for the weekend, possibly for forever,” Addi confirmed, still looming over my bed looking serious. “He and Yuu are thinking of moving back here. Not sure what it is about this town that gets everybody's panties in a wad,” she whispered under her breath and then paused, caramel-brown eyes narrowing on me. At least she knew what got
my
panties in a wad.

I looked down at my bedspread and waited while Addi took a deep breath. Whatever she said next was going to hurt, I could tell. There was a certain set to her lips, a tightness in the muscles of her face, that forewarned me of the impending disaster. It was the same face she'd had the day she'd told me her parents had decided to move to San Diego.