I shot him a shitty look. “Don’t matter how, Rome, just as long as Mamma goes pain free. We both know it won’t be forever. A couple ’a hundred grand now, and then I’ll work on getting us all hell out.”
Rome turned to me. “Austin, I’m begging you now. Let me pay for her treatment. No loan or payback. Let me just gift it to you… for her sake.”
I slapped him on the back, my throat clogging with gratitude. “Not happening, man. But I’ll never forget what you offered. It’s more than anyone’s ever done for me.”
It may have sounded stubborn, but I wasn’t taking any money from my best friend. Not a dime. Mamma wouldn’t want it. She’s a proud woman… and I’m her equally proud son.
Rome and I both sat in quiet contemplation for a while before he stood up and walked to the door, the atmosphere between us now calm.
“Downstairs in ten, you and me need a drink,” Rome said, and I relaxed knowing we were passed our differences.
“Sure, man.”
Rome opened the door. Just as he was about to leave, I asked, “That English chick you’ve been spending time with—”
“Molly?” Rome answered. “What about her?”
“That little Goth chick she hangs ’round with, the cheerleader…”
Rome’s eyes narrowed as he tried to picture who I was talking about, and a minute later, an expression of recognition flashed across his face. “Yeah?”
I glanced down, not meeting his eyes. “You know her name?”
Rome was quiet for a moment, and when I looked up, he was thinking.
Shrugging, he answered, “Lana, Lucy, Lizzi, something like that. Maybe Lexi? Yeah, I think it’s Lexi.” His brows furrowed. “You gonna tell me why you wanna know?”
I stared at him blankly. Rome laughed and tapped twice on the door. “Didn’t think so. I’m out.”
Once again, I was left in my room, alone. The first thing I pictured was her face—Lana, Lucy, Lizzi, maybe Lexi? Whatever—and immediately I felt like shit.
You terrify me, Carillo. I’m afraid of you…
One hour later and the frat house was teeming with people. I stood nursing my beer in the corner of the room with Rome. Rome was like a damn junkie, twitching, rocking from one foot to the other as he leaned back on the wall beside me, watching the door. He’d already rejected every groupie who had come his way. Rome was a player through and through, and I found his sudden disinterest in the opposite sex fuckin’ hilarious.
That English chick, Molly, was really getting to the guy.
Rome was talking to me about nothing important when suddenly I saw Ally, Rome’s cousin, enter the house, followed by JD’s woman, Cass, who looked drunk as all hell.
I didn’t notice her at first, but trailing at the back was her. Lana, Lucy, Lizzi, maybe Lexi—whatever the fuck she was called—dressed all in black: a black long-sleeved shirt-thing that showed her tiny waist, so tiny I could probably fit one hand around it, a black short skirt, black pantyhose, black heels, her hair curled to the side like Dita Von Teese, with huge black-rimmed eyes and dark-red lipstick.
Fuck. Much to my annoyance, she looked good.
She was smiling at Cass running her mouth when, suddenly, she glanced up, all pale-green eyes looking my way. We locked gazes for a few seconds before I remembered her words from earlier. I need you to leave me alone. Gripping my beer in hand, I turned and forced my way through the mass of drunken Tide players and groupies until I burst outta the back doors into the humid night air.
“Austin!” I heard my named called from beside me. Reece sat at the fire pit with the other freshman players. I flicked my chin and made my way over to the surfer-looking second-string QB—all blond hair and laidback attitude—dropping my now-empty Corona into the trashcan.
As soon as I stood before him, Reece handed me a new bottle and the rookie linesman beside him, Collins, moved out of the way to let me sit.
“You good, man?” Reece asked, grinning wide. The kid was okay really. I just couldn’t speak to him like I could Rome and JD. Took someone real special for me to let them in, to tell them about my life.
Slapping my hand on his shoulder, I nodded my head, telling him I was good. Reece turned to talk with Caleb Baker, a young wide receiver, about Tanya, the vice-captain cheerleader strutting across the lawn. I left them to it—I didn’t wanna talk about some fake blonde whose only troubles were what color lipstick she would choose to wear to class on Monday.