“You’re the only one I’ve ever—”
“Stop calling me,” I interrupt, terrified of whatever he’s about to say. I can’t hear those words come out of his mouth. Not now, not ever. Especially not so soon after James said it to me.
“You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?”
I hang up. He calls again immediately, and when that goes to voicemail, he just calls again. I block his number, shaking so badly I miss the button the first couple of tries. I flush the toilet, in case anyone is waiting in the hallway, and run the sink to splash some water on my face.
I look normal enough to re-join the party, I think. I tweak one of the earrings. James will be wondering where I went.
But when I exit, Richard is waiting for me.
“Bex,” he says. “How is your mother?”
“Oh, um, fine.” I stand up straighter. I haven’t been alone with Richard, and after the conversation with Darryl, I’m jumpy as hell. He doesn’t love me, but if he really thinks he does, that makes me more uncomfortable than I’d like to admit. “Thanks for asking. Should we…”
“You love my son,” Richard says.
It’s not a question. I nod.
“And you agree that he’s destined for greatness.”
I’ve never heard someone use that expression seriously. But it’s not like he’s lying, so I nod again. “He’s so talented.”
My response makes Richard relax slightly. He puts his hands in his pockets, leaning back against the wall. He came down this morning in a sweater with a fuzzy Christmas tree on it, and his outfit juxtaposed with the serious expression on his face is making me feel slightly hysterical. “I like you, Beckett. I think you have a good head on your shoulders. I admire practicality.”
“Thank you?”
“I want to talk to you about a matter of practicality.” His eyes, so like James’, look me over. I shiver. How James and his siblings handled having that look directed at them growing up is beyond me. “I have no problem with you dating him. In fact, I think you’ve been good for him. In an ideal world, you’ll be in his life for a long time. But we agree that the most important thing is for him to fulfill his destiny, right? He should have the chance to become the legend he has the talent and potential to be.”
I nod; that’s easy. “Yes. It’s all I want for him.”
“Good. We’re in agreement.” He cocks his head to the side slightly. “All I’m asking is for you not to threaten that. If my son cares for you, he’ll put you first. He’ll never put himself first. And that’s exactly what he needs to do right now.” He takes a step closer. “Whatever problems you’re dealing with, whatever leads to phone conversations like that—don’t tell him. Don’t make it his problem. Not now. Do you understand?”
He’s right. There was a problem at the diner, and James practically fought to come with me. If he knew about Darryl, he’d do something he’d just regret later. “I understand.”
“Good.” He reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. “And Bex? A word of advice.”
I look up at him. He has a serious expression on his face, but there’s softness in there, too. It’s almost fatherly. I haven’t had a look like that directed at me in years.
I hate how much it affects me.
“This goes for the diner, too. Think long and hard before tying yourself to it. Because he won’t choose the team he ends up on.”
“I know.”
“He’d be faithful, but would it be the best thing for you both? Think about it.”
He gives my shoulder another squeeze before smiling and walking back to the den, leaving me alone in the hallway.
I wipe at my eyes, taking a deep breath, and tell myself to move.
Instead, I stare down at my phone. Since I blocked Darryl’s number, I have no idea if the calls have stopped. I take a chance and unblock it, sending a text that does nothing to slow my heart rate or ease the tension in my shoulders.
Let’s talk before the game.
36
BEX
If someone told me back before the semester started that on January 2nd, I’d be in Atlanta to watch my boyfriend play in the college football national championship, I’d have demanded to know how I got back together with Darryl.
Instead, I have James.
When I kissed him at that party, I couldn’t have imagined a future where we’d be together. In love with each other. Where I’d be supporting him in the biggest moment of his life so far, my camera slung over my neck because I’m using my student press pass to take photographs during the game.
It might be the biggest moment of my life so far, too.
I just need to get this talk with Darryl out of the way.
It’s probably pointless to try and reason with him, but I can’t help myself. We do have history, even if all he’s been doing is working to sour it at every turn. Maybe there’s something I can say to get through to him once and for all that I don’t want him texting me, or calling, or seeking me out on campus, and I definitely have no plans to get back together with him.
I find him in the hallway near the locker room. There’s still some time before the game, so he’s not in his uniform yet, and he hasn’t put any eyeblack on his cheeks. He runs his hand through his hair, which is shorter than the last time I saw him, and gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Did he smile differently when he thought he liked me, or did I just see it in a different light?
“Bexy.”
I sigh. There’s no point in trying to correct him. “Darryl. Are you ready for the game?”
He reaches out and tugs at my press pass. “Oh, shit, look at you.”
I lean back slightly. “You have to stop doing this.”
“Doing what?” he says. “Trying to get back my girlfriend?”
“Yes.” I cross my arms over my chest. I’m wearing James’ jersey, and I know it’s not productive right now, but I hope it annoys him. “You gave that up when you cheated on me.”
“And I told you, that was a mistake. Worst mistake I ever made.”
“Good. Tell that to whomever you date next.”
I go to leave, because the longer I stand here the more uncomfortable I get, but like at the Penn State game, he boxes me in. I peer around him nervously to see if anyone is around. It’s a risk, meeting him somewhere James is too, but I wanted to keep it semi-public.
I’m not scared of him; besides that time at the diner, he hasn’t tried to touch me. He’s just not used to losing something he wants, and unfortunately that thing is still me. I give him what I hope is a placating smile, putting my hand on his arm. “Darryl. You don’t want me anymore. Even before I met James, we were broken up.”
“Cut the shit,” he says, that cold, angry note back in his tone. “You dump me and then turn around and immediately start dating him? I love you, Bex. You know how much it hurts to see you together?”
“If you really did, you wouldn’t have cheated on me!” I can’t help my rising voice. “I moved on, and you need to move on too. Stop finding me on campus. Stop coming to where I work. Stop calling me. Just stop.”
“I know you were lying about dating him,” he says.
I force myself not to react, even though his words make me break out in a sweat. The deal James and I made feels so long ago now, but it is how this whole thing started. “What?”
“Maybe you’re not lying now, but you lied to begin with, and you made me look like a fucking idiot.”
I swallow. “I cared about you a lot. I still want you to be happy. But you’re not going to be happy with me.”
He shakes his head. “No. Stop telling me no.”
“Darryl—”
“Break up with him.”
I laugh incredulously. “You’re not seriously asking me that.”
“Break up with him, or I’ll tell everyone the real reason why he left LSU.” He leans in, making my heart jump in my throat. I remind myself that we’re not really alone, that any moment someone will walk by, and that I don’t have to give in to his ridiculous demands just because he thinks he still wants me. I don’t think he ever truly wanted me—just some version of me, a version of the good, supportive girlfriend who loves her football-playing boyfriend. I couldn’t give that to him, but I’ve been giving it to James all season, and now that’s finally catching up to me. “You miss me, baby, I know you do.”
He leans in and kisses me. I don’t move away fast enough, numbly standing there as his words echo around my mind. He deepens it, his hand fisting in my hair, forcing my lips to part for him. Too late, my hands come up to push at his chest, but he’s so much stronger that I can’t make him budge. I stomp my foot down on his instead, as hard as I can, and he breaks away, cursing.
“Fuck, Bex!”