I let Steve, the friendly and probably overpaid by Dad guard, know when I left that night, and he reassured me he’d check the cameras and get back to me. I’ve really bonded with the guy, and knowing my dad padded his pockets a bit to watch over me might be the only ounce of sanity comforting me right now.
Tuck has backed off on the security detail since the city cops arrested the mad man on campus, but it’s done nothing for me. I’m sure I’d recognize those eyes if I ever saw them again. The nasty glare is tattooed on my brain forever, and I see them every single night before I go to sleep.
“Blue.”
“Yeah.” A freshly showered Sophie is standing in front of her steel gray locker. “What’s up?”
“I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes. Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Yeah, sorry, I’m just hungry and fading out a bit.”
“Well, the guys are out front, so move your ass.”
I don’t miss the look of concern on her face. Sophie is the one person who picks up on all my silent cues, but she never pushes for details. She just holds her arm out for support in a silent way, and I take it each and every time. It’s like she sees the living nightmare play out on my face when no one else can.
“Burgers?” I ask.
“You know it. It’s their night before one of the biggest games of the season.”
“You say that every time…to you each game is a championship.”
“Well, no shit. Don’t you and Tuck talk football?”
“We don’t talk much.” I wait for her reaction, and it’s everything I expected.
“I hate you, Blue. I picked the wrong one. I mean, Lane can screw, but he’s not a double shooter and all-nighter like Tuck, AKA Mr. Fabulouso.”
Her reaction is priceless, and every time I get the chance to rub it in, I do. It’s actually a lie about us not talking. Some nights we’ve stayed up all night talking about the most random subjects. He’s found out that he’ll get kicked in the teeth if he ever gives me a foot massage, and I’ve discovered his phobia of bridges. It’s the late night conversations that are my favorite because the dream never comes, and I always manage a couple hours of sleep snuggled up on him between our classes and practices.
It seems if I fall asleep during the day, the nightmare stays away. The black lines under my eyes are getting harder and harder to conceal with make-up, and I know I need to shut down the memories, but just don’t know how.
My aviators will have to do the hiding as we walk out into the bright outdoors. Tuck and a group of men are gathered around his truck chatting, and I’m sure it’s about football. We are both trained athletes and have fallen into an easy routine. I don’t get jealous of his teammates or time he dedicates to the team, and the same goes for him with cheer and me. At this point, I’m my own worst enemy.
I hang back a bit and pretend to look at my phone, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Booming voices fill the parking lot with lots of cheers and foul words. Someone for sure is getting the third degree for something. Just being around Noah and Tuck, listening to the stories they tell, it’s clear it’s part of the brotherhood to get the shit harassed out of you.
“Look, there’s the little Hoover vacuum.”
I recognize Noah’s voice and look up to see the whole group staring back at me.
“Take it easy on my boy’s neck. You’re doing all sorts of damage to his game.”
The crowd erupts again in laughter, and that’s when I see several large hickies covering his neck. My hand flies over my mouth and embarrassment sets in. Holy shit, I was just fooling around. I had no intention of leaving behind love bites.
When I make eye contact with Tuck, I see a smile on his face as if he is proud of the marks, and it totally makes my embarrassment evaporate. This man has never believed in happily ever afters, or himself, for that fact, so seeing him smiling in a group of teammates over hickies makes me chipper. And in moments like these, all my nightmares vanish.
“So, this is the beauty who has our star player all flustered and dropping balls.”
I don’t see which teammate says it, but it encourages the rest to begin laughing again. Tuck must have really messed up today at practice. He’s not even arguing or glowering at any of them. He just keeps shaking his head and then holds his hand out to me. Carefully, I step over the curbing and through a patch of woodchips until I reach him. Tuck spins me around, pulling my back into his chest.
“Paybacks are a bitch,” he whispers, and then leaves a light kiss on my temple.
“Your dick must be magic to land someone as pretty as her with your ugly mug.”
The men go on and on, and with every comment about Tuck and me, my skin begins to crawl. Noah plays along and it seems not to faze Tuck—on the outside, that is. I wonder just how much these guys know about him, but on the other hand, they are treating him just like any other player.
I relax back into him as the conversation turns to game day, and I realize this could go on forever. Turning into his cheek, I kiss him, and then fling one of my arms up behind his neck.
“I’m starving, Tuck.”
“Me too,” he mumbles back. “But not for dinner.”
He reaches behind him and flings open his door as he whirls me into the front of the cab, laying me back on the seat and then covering my body. And if I thought the hoots and hollers were loud before, they are now deafening.
“What are you doing?” I try to ask between giggles.
“Pissing on what’s mine. Those fucking pants show way too much.”
“Stop.” I push up on his chest. “You’re being silly.”
His mouth drowns out my plea as he assaults my lips, laying down the sexiest kiss I’ve ever tasted, and I feel him hard and ready to go.
“Tuck.” I push my glasses back to glare at him. “Stop. We won’t be able to stop.”
“Jesus, Blue, you look like hell.” The pad of his thumb brushes my cheek.
“I’m just tired and hungry.”
One of his large palms cradles the back of my head, gently pulling me up to him, while his thumb still rubs soothing motions on my cheek. Either I’m doing a really good job of blocking out the outside noise, or they went on harassing someone else.
“Don’t lie to me.” He leans down and pecks the tip of my nose. “I know you’re struggling, and you have to ask for help.”
“I’m still scared, Tuck.”
“I’m all in, if you haven’t noticed.”
“No, I’m scared of him.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth because of the growl Tuck produces.
“He can’t hurt you, Blue.”
“I’m just tired and hungry.” I do my best to change the subject, and it’s not a lie at all.
“Oh, I’ll feed you.” He pushes up off the bench seat. “A big ol’ sausage.” He readjusts himself in his black gym pants.
“Ewww, you’re gross,” I squeal.
He only chuckles, pats his teammates on the shoulder, and rounds the front of the truck. But if truth was told, and if I wasn’t so exhausted and hungry, I’d be blowing the hell out of him on the way to the diner. Tuck has turned me into a slut like that.
My phone rings as Tuck hops in the truck, and I see my mom’s shining face trying to FaceTime me.
“Do you mind?” I ask him as the engine roars to life.
“No prob, Beauty.”
He’s FaceTimed with me several times, but has only met my mom, and they hit it off. Of course, Tuck was quiet at first, but my hyperactive mother had him talking up a storm in no time.
“Blue, you look like shit.”
Her hair is done, and subtle make-up paints her face. She’s always picture perfect. The way I used to be.
“Hi, Mom, love you too.”
“Have you been eating? Are you sleeping? Are you taking those vitamins?”
She rambles off at least twenty more questions before taking a breath and letting me talk.
“Yes, Mom, I’m just living the college life.”