“Yeah,” I said, forcing a light tone. “You should know, I stopped listening after you said naked anyway.”
It was typical Kayla, using sex to avoid her confusing feelings about the rivalry, and fucking hell, I fell for it again.
I returned to the U-M campus at noon on Sunday. I’d been smart enough this time to schedule my appointment with the trainer for after lunch. It’d still be tight, though. I had a database project to work on, and I had to get a good grade. My academic advisors watched me closely, and if my grades slipped, the coaches would be on my ass like nothing else.
There’d been grumbling last year about my grades and reminders that if I was ruled academically ineligible to play, I wouldn’t just be letting myself down. I’d be a disappointment to the whole fucking team.
Like I needed more pressure.
Darius unknowingly added to it when he texted me a screencap from Facebook. Someone had posted a picture of me in the Buckeye Bar last night. At least they weren’t able to tag me in it. I’d quit social media two years ago when girls started using it to track me down.
I walked along the hall toward my room, thumbing out a message to Kayla that I’d made it. Was she still in bed where I’d left her? We hadn’t talked about her family this morning either. I tried to give her space and let her start the conversation, but she hadn’t by the time I’d had to leave, and frustration wore on me.
My key didn’t turn in the lock. Huh. I’d left my door open.
I flipped on the lights, and went rigid.
Hanging from the ceiling was a Brutus Buckeye mascot doll, with its stupid nut-shaped head, idiotic smile, and a noose tied around its neck. It barely held my attention, because my gaze moved on to take in the carnage.
My room was a disaster.
Books and the rest of my school shit were all over the place. The mattress had been pulled halfway off the bed frame and spilled out onto the floor. Clothes from my closet were everywhere. I couldn’t tell if whoever fucked with my room had pulled things off my wall, because a bedsheet had been haphazardly duct taped over it. One word was painted on the fabric in angry letters.
Traitor.
I stepped into my room, slammed the door shut, and ripped the sheet down.
-30-
KAYLA
Our next game was at Nebraska, and after we won, I sat in the hotel room I had volunteered as tribute to share with Lisa. No one else wanted to room with her, so as captain, I took that bullet. It worked out, kind of. She was still the only one on the squad who knew about Jay. After the disaster with my parents, I wasn’t too keen on sharing my boyfriend’s identity with anyone else.
Lisa flopped down on the bed overly dramatically. “Tell me your boyfriend lost today.”
I was still conflicted whenever Jay won. “No, sorry.”
She groaned. “Son of a bitch. Who’d they play?”
“Minnesota.”
“Was it at least close?”
I glanced at the screen of my phone. “Twenty-eight to three.”
“They need to lose a game.” She lifted on her bent elbows and glared at me. “What are you doing to make that happen?”
Just what was she implying? “Excuse me?”
“Can’t you, like, get him sick or something? Screw him into exhaustion?”
It was so ridiculous I almost laughed, but then I had a better idea. I tapped a few times on my phone and held it up. It rang.
Lisa sat up abruptly. “What are you doing?”
Jay came onscreen, but he wasn’t in his room. The background was noisy and dimly lit. A bar? He smiled at me. “Hey, sexy.”
“Hey. This is Lisa.” I turned the phone in my hand so Lisa and Jay could see each other. “She just told me I should screw you until you’re too tired to win your next game.”
She scowled at me, but Jay laughed. “I’ve got mad stamina, Lisa, but I’m all for it if Kayla wants to give your plan a shot.”
She looked disgusted, pushed up off the bed, and went into the bathroom in a huff. I turned the phone back so it was on me. “Where are you?”
“Out with Darius and a few other—”
A hand with painted nails latched onto Jay’s arms and a pretty brunette came into view. She grinned seductively and lifted a carefully manicured eyebrow as she peered at his phone. “What are you watching?”
“I’m having a conversation with my girlfriend.” He looked down at the hand on his arm, and then back at the brunette. “Goodbye.”
His expression was firm. Disappointment only lasted a moment, and the girl slipped away, probably off to find a new mark.
“Wow,” I said.
“I’ve given up being nice to them. It saves time.” He took a sip of his beer. “I didn’t want to come out tonight, but Darius said it was a good idea. Teambuilding and shit.”
Jay glazed over the finer details, but he’d mentioned last week that some of his dumber teammates had gotten drunk and razed his room. As captain, it forced Darius to bring down the hammer and stop any catastrophic threats to team unity.
In the background, the bar suddenly got loud. People were cheering and hollering.
“What’s happening?”
Jay craned his neck. “Evan just got here.”
“Great,” I chewed out. “That should keep the hoes busy.” Although, I knew there were plenty of eager girls wanting to get with players no matter their position, and Jay was so much hotter than Michigan’s quarterback. It was a little terrifying thinking about my boyfriend being out in public on campus.
“How’s it going with your family?”
“It’s going,” I said. “Cooper’s been sending me texts all week. ‘Dad turned your room into a yoga studio’ and ‘Mom’s meeting with a lawyer to cut you out of the will.’ Good stuff.”
He gave me a strained smile. “Are you still doing dinner after the game with them next Saturday?”
“They haven’t revoked my status in the family yet, so yeah. I’m planning to go.”
We won.
Again.
Our winning streak played no small part in helping me out when I met my family at the Buckeye Bar. My parents took a page from my playbook and pretended I wasn’t dating a guy from Michigan. It was the first stage of grief: denial. I let them, because it meant things were relatively normal. Mom got on Cooper’s case about his phone addiction, and Dad talked about the coaching staff’s excellent play calling. Things were spectacularly okay-ish.
They didn’t ask any questions about Jay. Not a single one. When the highlights of the Michigan game played on the flat screen near us, my mom glared at me as if I had somehow allowed the Wolverines to roll through Indiana’s defense.
On Monday, we stayed number two in the AP poll, although the smarter sports commentators argued the case how Ohio State should be ranked over Michigan. I was annoyed about it as I hustled to practice at the fieldhouse, and since it was November, it was cold and rainy outside, adding to my irritation.
Plus, I hadn’t seen Jay in person in weeks.