When I’m pushed through the front door onto the porch, I feel his mouth near my ear.
“It’s Lane. Stop fighting me.”
My vision comes into focus and I see Sophie standing next to Lane’s truck beyond the fence. Every muscle is tensed up and ready for fight or flight, but his voice causes me to melt in his arms. Lane readjusts me in his grasp, and my sight is filled with a majestic black sky with twinkling stars blinking back at me. Their brightness and subtle flashing make my stomach lurch, so I close my eyes. The movement of walking and not seeing anything makes my stomach spin even harder.
“Thank you,” I whisper as he sets me down on my feet.
It takes a few minutes for me to gather composure enough to walk the three steps to the back door and grip the handle. Without having to look up, I know several people are gathered around, and whether or not they’re staring, it sure in the hell feels like all eyes are on me. I strap on my courage and dig up all my steadiness and go to climb in the truck. And if the last few weeks of my life haven’t been torture enough, I catch sight of Tuck leaning on a chipped white pillar on the porch watching my every move with a little blonde hanging off of his arm.
With steadier legs than I thought I would ever be able to muster, I step up on the chrome bar and my middle finger goes up without thought or hesitation before I land a belly flop on the smooth leather back seat. A seatbelt digs sharply into my left hip, but it doesn’t faze the hysterical fit of laughter I spiral into.
“Blue, are you okay?”
With a cheek pressed to the cool leather, I look up into Sophie’s concerned eyes and feel like an even bigger ass than I already did. I just nod, dragging my cheek up and down the seat. I try to sober myself up, but it seems as the seconds tick by and the further Lane drives, the drunker my limbs become.
A cellphone rings. It’s not any of my ring tones, and even if it was, I don’t even fucking know where my little shoulder purse is.
“Hey.” Lane’s voice is a bit muted, but obviously it was his phone. “I’ve got her. She’s pretty fucked up.”
Silence for a bit, and I strain to hear.
“No, didn’t say anything about you. I’m pretty sure she’s over you.”
An acidic taste begins climbing up my throat, and when Lane whips the truck in what feels like a 180-degree turn, that taste escapes me. My stomach acts as if it’s trying to burst from me through my throat. I make horrid gagging sounds as the burning fluid tumbles to the ground. Vomit splashes back up, spattering me in the face. The harder I fight the urge to cease the puking, the more retching and god-awful sounds come out.
“Shit. Got to go.” I barely hear the sound of Lane’s phone being tossed on the dash over the roar of my severe vomiting.
“Get back to the dorms now, Lane.”
Then my world goes black as I pass out in a pool of puke on the leather seat.
Chapter 14
I swear the dizziness of being hung over and beyond fucked up still lingers throughout my body five days later. I’m sure the loud gym filled with volleyball players and an eager crowd doesn’t help. Sophie damn near rushed me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped the night I got so drunk, but Lane came to my rescue, even after I puked all over in his truck.
He nursed me back to health and kept Sophie calm through all of it. The man needs a gold medal for putting up with us. When I was able to walk, the first thing I did was head to his truck to clean up my mess, but it was already sparkling clean.
I know the last few days without him have been miserable for Sophie, but deep down I was grateful not to have to see him. My skin heats with embarrassment when I think about my actions that night.
Volleyball matches suck ass. I’m eager to feel the excitement at a home football game while cheering and shining, but for now I’m stuck here and take the three shifts of walking around passing the can down for donations. It feels better on my still pounding head instead of cheering near courtside. We do have one performance between matches and then only an hour left.
The football game just started back east, and the crowd goes nuts every time the commentator updates us on the score. My hearts jumps in delight when Tuck’s number is announced as making the first touchdown. It’s what the team needed on their opening drive. And as much as I hate Noah and Tuck in this moment, I can’t help but smile for them and imagine them celebrating in the end zone.
Sophie runs up to me as we are walking out of the gymnasium. It was one hell of a long day. The football game is in the third quarter, and she has it streaming on her phone. Tuck set the pace for the game, but unfortunately the other offense answered back every time.
“Blue,” Sophie squeals as she watches Lane catch an interception and run it in for a touchdown, putting the boys up by seven. “Please sit and watch this with me.”
I’d never admit it to her, but I only want to watch it and be there in the moment with Tuck. The last five days have revealed one thing to me as I analyzed and reanalyzed my massive fuck-up at the party. Tuck Jones has captured my heart and destroyed it.
“I’m going to grab some food and be right back.” I point to the food trucks lining the sidewalk.
“Get me something.” She doesn’t pry her eyes from the screen as she intently stares at the game unfolding.
I pull out my own phone and bring up the message from the strange number that texted me the day I was at the beach cooling down from my raging fit. The line is long to the taco truck, so I rub my thumb over his message he sent me.
Blue, you’ll never understand my reasons, but I’m sorry for pulling away and what I did. You deserve better, and that’s why I’m staying away.
It took every single ounce of willpower I had to not text back or run to his front steps and beg to be back in his life. Message after message I’ve typed up to send back to him, but then always talk myself out of it. I’ve tried to focus on nothing but cheer the last five days through my foggy-ass frame of mind.
When I head back with two plates full of street tacos, I see Sophie toss her phone to the ground and know that can’t be good.
“They just scored back to back. Noah threw an interception, and now we’re down six points with a minute to go.”
Sophie flops back onto the grass with her phone held up toward the sky, still intent on the game.
“Was I gone that long?” I ask with a crooked eyebrow.
“Like a whole freaking quarter.”
I’ve found myself losing track of time a lot lately when I get thrown into a Tuck tailspin. Focusing on the tacos and my growling stomach, I enjoy them while listening to the game pour from Sophie’s phone. Nothing but timeouts and lots of commercial breaks happen, but then it’s time, and I hear Noah and Tuck’s names being talked about by the commentators, and the wide receiver’s name is thrown in there too. It’s the last play of the game and all in their hands.
“With seventy yards to go, what will the head coach call?” A short silence goes by, and then the commentator goes wild. “It’s a handoff to number thirty-two. He’s wrapped up…wait, no, he breaks loose and is ten yards out with a defender coming at him. He leaps over him. He’s at the fifty, the forty, the thirty, the ten. Touchdown.”
The man’s voice is a joyous roar as he narrates each one of Tuck’s moves.
“Please don’t be a flag. Please don’t be a flag,” Sophie chants as she jumps to her feet with her hand covering her mouth.
There’s no flag, the extra point is good, and I focus back down on my plate and can’t help the smile that forms on my face. He did it. He just won the game for his team. Digging into my purse, I find my phone and send back a message, but it’s not the one I’ve wanted to send to him.