Kicked (19 page)

“You heard her.” Trent’s voice was low, the threat more tangible than a raised fist.

Landon scowled and shook his head. “Fine. But I warned you, Cordy. Don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again. I won’t be waiting. Not this time.”

His shoulders drooped, and he strode to the door and into the hallway, his head down and his steps heavy.

I stared at the open doorway, my heart angry and aching at the same time. Trent sat next to me and took my hand.

Ellie let the door close and threw herself on her bed. “That went well.” Then she turned over and began snoring in less than ten seconds.

Practice went well. Coach Carver was impressed with my technique and even more pleased with my accuracy. I was the Mav no longer. Maybe I could be Ice Man?

Between kicks, my thoughts strayed to what I’d done with Trent earlier that morning or, sometimes, to the hurt on Landon’s face as I’d ordered him out of my room. So much had happened that I felt as if I were spinning, not sure when I’d stop or who I’d be when I did.

I spent my classes that day in the same fog. I found myself blushing during my Beat Poets class, and again as I was walking across campus back to my dorm for the night. Trent had already texted and asked if he could take me to dinner.

Despite what we’d done, there was more left unsaid. We needed to clear the air. I’d seen enough teen dating shows to know that it wasn’t yet time to DTR (define the relationship), but I needed some sort of assurance from him that this was real. More than that, I wanted to know what he was trying to tell me about his father’s death. The niggling suspicion that he was only seeing me because his trust fund was safe haunted my thoughts.

“Princess.” Ethan’s gruff voice startled me.

I looked over my shoulder to see him catching up with me. “Go away, Ethan.”

“What?” He grinned and slowed to walk at my elbow. “I can’t have a chat with our star kicker?”

I pulled my jacket closer to me and sped my pace. The air had warmed over the day, but another line of storms was expected to hit overnight.

“I feel like you need to read the part of the student handbook that talks about sexual harassment.” I kept him in my peripheral vision.

“I’m not harassing.” His leer didn’t match his words. “Promise.”

“Then go back to your wildebeest clan. I’m busy.”

“I will. But first I wanted to talk about your friend Landon.”

I swiveled my head around to him. “What?”

He shrugged, his bulky shoulders flexing. “I heard him crying to some hot piece of ass in the caf at lunch. Something about you and Trent?”

I stiffened and focused on the lights gleaming in Hope Hall’s windows. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

“He thought so, too. He’s got a smart mouth.”

“Leave him alone.”

“I’m more interested in Trent. So, you’re giving it up to the QB?” He moved closer, his arm pressing into mine as we walked.

I didn’t respond.

“It’s okay.” He leaned closer. “I’ll take rich boy’s sloppy seconds.”

I drew my arm back and shoved it out beside me, nailing him in the ribs with my elbow. “Touch me, and I’ll do much worse.”

He grunted and his steps faltered. “Don’t be a bitch, princess.”

I hurried until I was nearly running up the sidewalk beneath the oaks, passing students as the twilight turned into full-on night. Ethan didn’t follow, and by the time I reached Hope Hall, I was trembling. Whether it was from Ethan or the cold, I couldn’t tell.

I swung the door open and darted inside.

Trent leaned against the reception window, chatting with Brandy, but when he saw me, he rushed over. “What is it?”

I snuggled into his chest as he threw his arms around me. If I told him, he might start a fight with Ethan.
Hard pass
.

“Just cold.”

He placed his lips next to my ear and whispered, “Want to go upstairs and warm up before dinner?”

I giggled, a thrill running through me and an ache growing between my thighs. “No. I’m hungry.” Pulling back, I stared up into his eyes. “And I want you to finish what you started at La Café Blanc.”

He took my hands and kissed my forehead. “Whatever you want.”

“Dinner.”

He led me out the front door and down to his car. “Any requests?”

“Pita Stop.”

He opened my car door, his eyes following my every move. “Excellent choice.”

It took about ten minutes to get to the south side of town. We chatted about classes and practice. Beneath it all, tension grew inside him. I felt it in his movements, in the quiet spaces he would usually fill with words.

The Pita Stop was located on the bottom floor of a three-story building. The exterior was faded, but a bright blue sign promised the best hummus in town. We walked in and claimed a booth near the front window. A TV was set to a broadcast about the coming storm, and the air was filled with the delicious scents of grilled seafood and Mediterranean spices. Only a few tables were occupied, most people in town already bunkered down for the bad weather.

A waiter walked up and handed me a menu, then turned to Trent. “Usual?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have the same.”

The waiter smiled and retrieved my menu. “Very well. It’ll be right out.”

Trent kept eyeing the window behind me, the wind rattling the thin pane of glass.

I reached across the table and took his hand. “Tell me the rest. I didn’t give you a chance, and I want to.” Doubt welled inside me—what if my fears about the trust fund were true? I couldn’t be with someone who only wanted me when it was convenient. But I had to give him an opportunity to explain it, all of it, before I made any decisions.

He scrubbed a hand down his rough cheek and leaned forward. “I’m going to do my best to say it right this time, but I don’t entirely trust myself. So, if I say something that hurts you, please bear with me. I don’t mean to.” The boy from two years ago—timid despite his size, and with his heart on his sleeve—reappeared in his sincere gaze.

I nodded and squeezed his hand. “Go on.”

“My family is sort of… Let’s say set in their ways. My mother, especially. Two years ago, I wasn’t strong enough to stand up to them, to stand up for us. I told you about Carlotta. My mother has been set on that match for years. Her brother is a senator. Mom thought that marrying Carlotta would, you know, give me the right connections.”

He squeezed my hand. “At the time, my dad was sick. The cancer had destroyed him from the inside out.” His voice thickened with tears, and I wanted to take the pain away. He continued, “Anyway, he cautioned patience, too. God.” He leaned his head back and swallowed hard. “My mother threatened my trust fund. My dad was sick. My mom said that I was making his last days harder. I was just a stupid kid. I gave in. I let you go. Even though you were the best thing that had ever happened to me. To make them happy, I let you go.”

He fell silent, but kept my hand in his. When he brought his gaze back to mine, his eyes were clear. “My dad died last summer.”

“I’m sorry.” I ignored the emotions twisting inside me and forced myself to be present for him.

“Thank you. He was the beating heart of our family. When he stopped, it turned my mother even colder than she was before. It did something else to me, though. It made me see how stupid I was to think I could walk away from you. I never did. Not really. I watched you. I did some things…”

I cocked my head to the side. “What things?”

He ran a hand through his hair, tousling the brown locks, and darted his gaze away before coming back to me. “I maybe, um, I…”

His tan cheeks turned a cute shade of red.

“That bad, huh?” I smiled, wondering what he could have possibly done.

“I got you the third-string spot on the team. I sent money to your father. I have a copy of every one of your class schedules. I’m the one who set him up with that rehab.” The confession came in a torrent. “I
know you
, Cordy. I spent two years getting to know you, and it only made me love you more. It sounds crazy, but I swear I didn’t mean any harm by it. Even though I tried to let you go, to forget about you, to take Carlotta on dates like my mother demanded, you are all I’ve thought about.”

I couldn’t seem to get enough air, mainly because I’d been holding my breath. He covered my hand with his, his fingers trembling. I tried to process his words, my brain telling me he was a stalker, my heart melting into a puddle. Did he say he loved me?

“You paid for my dad’s rehab?” I repeated his words, as if testing their weight. “Sent him money?”

He nodded as the waiter appeared and slid our plates onto the table. Trent leaned back, and the warmth that had cocooned my hand dissipated.

“Thanks.” He nodded as the waiter backed away, then refocused on me. “So, what do you think? Is this the part where you scream and get a restraining order?”

I took a deep breath and tried to settle the runaway beat of my heart. “That can wait until after you pay for the food.”

He snorted and gave me a half-smile.

“But can I ask you a question?”

“Okay.” He nodded hard, as if I’d asked him if he could throw me a perfect pass. “I can deal with that. Hit me.”

“When your father died, did that mean that your trust fund was safe?”

He winced. “I deserve that.”

“I’m sorry. This is a lot, and I don’t know—”

“No. You’re right to ask. It makes sense. But no, I didn’t come back into your life because my money is safe. My dad’s death did the opposite, really. Mom has become even more insistent that I propose to Carlotta. She’s promised that I won’t see another cent if I don’t fall in line.”

I sat still, hoping for him to tell me what I wanted to hear. I didn’t have to wait long.

“I didn’t come back to you because my money’s safe. It’s the opposite, Cordy. She’ll cut me off. But”—he laid his hand on the table next to our plates—“I don’t care. I couldn’t wait any longer. You are everything. She can never give me another dime. I don’t care. You’re more important than any of it. We’ll make our own way.” He pierced me with his emerald stare. “If you can forgive me for the past two years. If you’ll have me.”

I glanced to his outstretched hand. Could I forgive him? I’d hated him for so long, my heart nursing the wound he’d inflicted.

He watched me, his body tense, as if he were bracing himself for the worst. I could shatter him the same way he did me. But it would leave me in ruins right along with him.

I pressed my hand into his, and a smile that rivalled the sun spread across his face. Warmth rushed over my skin and heated every spot in my body and soul. He rose and scooted into the booth next to me, crowding me against the wall.

His lips met mine, and I was suddenly ravenous for him. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he smoothed his hands to my waist. His nimble tongue left me breathless, and when I came up for air, he ran his hot mouth along my throat.

A low roar began to overtake the sound of the weather broadcast. I gasped as Trent nipped at my neck. Glancing to the window, I discovered the reason for the sound. Rain poured in unforgiving sheets, giving the street lights a white halo and pounding on the cars outside.

“Trent.” He stopped kissing me long enough to follow my stare, then called to the waiter. “Hey, we’ll need this to go.” Settling back into the booth, he nuzzled next to my ear. “You’re coming home with me.”

The second his apartment door closed, he pinned me against it. He owned my body, caging me in with a wall of muscle and desire. Gripping the lapel of my jacket, he shucked it off me and tossed it to the floor. I ran my fingers along the hem of his pullover and yanked. He stepped back and stripped off his pullover and the t-shirt beneath it. I let my gaze wander the hard planes of his body, the roping muscles, the strong line of his jaw, the hot look in his eyes.

He pinned me again, his lips owning me. I let my fingers rove along his back as he gripped my hair with one hand, pulling until he was able to slant his mouth over mine. His tongue knew just how to stroke mine, to sink and tease until I was wet and desperate for more.