The last part may be a teeny-tiny white lie, because I think the asshole wasn’t going to do anything besides push me, but oh well. The gym manager breaks into the crowd.
“She’s right. I’ll handle the situation from here with Dominic.” He points to the ground where the man with a bloody face is now sitting up. Both of his eyes are already swollen shut. “Coaches, do what you need to.”
“You’re going to the hospital.”
My head swings back to Tuck’s coach.
“Excuse me?” I counter.
“You’re going to the hospital to get checked out.” He doesn’t back down on the tough guy act. “Your face is swollen and you’re still bleeding from your lip.”
I take a step in. “My father is the top plastic surgeon in Colorado, and as soon as my ass ends up in an ER he’ll be on the prowl. I may be a cheerleader,” I use my hands to air quote cheerleader, “but I’m not fragile nor a victim.”
I don’t wait for his response, Jay’s, or Tucks before I spin on my heels and head straight back to the locker room on my now rubbery, shaking legs. An odd combination of adrenaline, anger, and admiration swirl around my head, and I surrender to a full meltdown as I let my body sink down the chilled slate gray lockers until I’m curled up on the ground. The tears roll down my knees as I pull my body tighter into a ball and cry, allowing all my frustration to leave my body. I’m not sure how long I’m on the floor sobbing before all my tears dry up and I’m just left with swollen eyes and a severe headache from the freak-out.
“Blue.”
I recognize Tuck’s voice from the entrance of the locker room, but I don’t answer him.
“I’m coming in.”
If I had the energy to roll my eyes I would, but I don’t. The next thing I hear is footsteps, and when I look up he’s towering above me and the butterflies spark up in my belly. Even in the lowest part of my life, the man seems to be able to turn me on somehow.
I hear the cracking of his knees as he squats down to come face to face with me.
“Your trainer is worried about you. Says you’re pushing yourself too hard.”
He stares at me and I want more than anything to light the motherfucker up and let him know it’s all because of him. If Tuck would just give me an evening or two to satisfy the hunger I have for him, I might not be so hell-bent on working him out of my system. But instead I shrug, not willing to share with the man who will give me nothing in return.
“He said no practice tonight. I’m taking you home.”
I watch as he eyes the open locker next to me, then grabs my bag and throws my water bottle in it.
“I can walk. I just need a few minutes.” Digging my heels into the speckled tile floor, I slide my body back up the lockers and don’t miss the fact Tuck’s eyes seem to drink in my every move.
“You’re not walking home.”
I step right up into Tuck’s face and tap his chest with my finger. “You do not have the right to tell me anything when you have done nothing but treat me like dirt.”
I get even more pissed off when my tears come back. I know it’s a surefire sign that I’m beyond pissed, but it’s also a sign of weakness. Tuck ignores my words as he throws me over his shoulder. I begin to panic and beat on his back, calling him all sorts of colorful words, but when he steps out into the gym I see a crowd. Instantly I shut my mouth, not wanting to cause a scene. A stout running back packing a girl over his shoulder while carrying her gym bag is scene enough. I don’t need my added screaming.
The outside air runs over my sweat-dampened body.
“Are you ready to fucking listen?”
God, I want to punch this guy in the balls.
“Yes,” I spit.
Tuck gently sets me back to the ground, and soon as my sneakers feel the solid pavement below them I’m ready to bolt, but he’s able to catch my wrist first and begins dragging me toward the parking lot. I dig my feet in but have no other option but to walk or my knees will be kissing the asphalt.
“Tuck, I’m fine. Let go of me.”
He comes to an abrupt stop before a tan Dodge truck, places both of his hands on my shoulders, and turns me to face the driver’s side mirror.
“Look.” His fingers dig into the top of my shoulders. “You call that fine?”
My red, swollen eyes stare back at me in the mirror, and I notice the dried blood around the corner of my mouth and the deep blue bruise forming high on my cheekbone.
“Get your fucking ass in my truck.”
His voice isn’t even a growl this time. It’s harsher and way more forceful, so I don’t question him. I slide behind the wheel and try to scoot to the passenger seat, but his hand catches my thigh, stopping me in the middle of the bench. He climbs in and I notice a long scar on the back on his neck that I never noticed before. It’s a serious scar, but I’m distracted as he slides something on my face.
When I perch up to look in the rear view mirror, I see he put his aviators on my face. I go to protest the action and finally give the fucker everything I have when I see Stephie and her clan waltz in front of the truck, waving. I turn slightly toward Tuck to hide the injured side of my face and do my best job of smiling and waving back.
“Thank you,” I whisper and lay my head on his shoulder. As soon as I relax into him I realize how fully exhausted I really am. The sound of the engine and the slight moves of his shoulder as he drives calm me a bit. My eyes get heavy as the silence in the cab combined with the lull of outside noises soothe me, while the breeze refreshes my heated skin.
The truck comes to a stop and I slowly lift my head to see Tuck’s house and Noah sitting on the front steps with a grocery sack between his legs. He smiles when he sees the two of us, and that damn thing is so contagious I can’t help but shoot back a pitiful grin.
He’s on his feet and opening the passenger side door before I grasp what’s going on.
“Damn, Blue, what’s the other guy look like?”
He reaches his hand out to me, and I take it and without thought, like it’s second nature. Looking over my shoulder, I watch Tuck do what he does the best, slink back into the background.
“What are you doing here, Noah?”
Noah and Tuck both laugh, and it’s obvious the joke is on me.
“I live here.”
My heart sinks so low in my chest it slams into my stomach as I feel the sting of their punch line.
“Don’t look so surprised, Blue. It’s not like we’re a lot of serial killers or something.” Noah guides me up the steps and into the familiar living room.
“Who else lives here?”
“Just the two of us.” A deeper voice answers, and I see Tuck leaning back on the counter in his open kitchen with legs crossed at the ankles.
“I managed to steal some clothes from your dorm room. I think Sophie and Lane were in the shower.”
A disgusted moan escapes me. “Let me bet, our door was left open and you pilfered through my underwear drawer like a creeper?”
“Damn, Blue, you have me nailed.” Noah chuckles as he tosses the bag in my lap. “I also picked up some first aid shit at the store. Us football men just rub some mud on that shit and get on with it.”
“Oh my god. You sound like my dad.” I laugh hard at Noah and his ridiculous statement. “Going to have to avoid FaceTime with my mom tonight. She’ll freak.”
I hear a can of pop open in the kitchen and turn to see Tuck in the same position, but tipping back a beer.
“Fucking healthy, Tuck.” Noah shakes his head and strides down the long hallway, leaving me sitting on the couch.
Well, hell, this is a wee bit awkward-ish…in the most awkward of ways.
I hear my ring tone and know it’s my mom. Tuck holds my phone out from his stance in the kitchen, not making a move toward me. Pulling myself from the couch, my face throbs with pain, and know I need to get some ibuprofen down the hatch sooner than later. With the plastic bag gripped in my hands, I walk toward him and take the phone and let out a breath when I see it’s just a call and not FaceTime.