Down By Contact: A Making the Score Football Romance Page 10

  Matt circled one arm around my waist and pushed himself into me one final time, pulsing as he grunted. I held still until he finished, and then I let out a long breath. He withdrew and left me standing there, listening to the sound of his footsteps stalking to the bathroom.

  Slowly I turned around, my skirt fluttering into place. I rested my back against the wall, waiting for my pulse to come down into normal range and trying to regroup.

  Matt walked back into the room, closing the bathroom door behind him. He barely spared me a glance before he stopped to pick up his phone and scroll his finger over the screen.

  “We need to leave for the party in ten minutes. You might want to fix your hair. You’re kind of a mess.”

  I swallowed over the lump that had risen in my throat. “I’m going to call Quinn and ride over with them. I think I’ve spent enough time with you.”

  “No.” He didn’t even sound upset, just bored. “I said I’m taking you.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re not.” I found my bag where it had dropped on the floor by the door and dug out my phone. Willing my fingers not to shake, I hit Quinn’s name and waited for her to pick up.

  “I said, I’ll take you.” Matt now sounded irritated.

  On the other end of the line, Quinn picked up, her voice more than a little distracted. “Gia? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, but I was wondering if you and Leo would mind picking me up. I mean, when you get a chance.”

  She was silent for a moment, and I heard Leo in the background, talking. Quinn sighed into the phone. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. Can you wait downstairs, so we don’t have to park?”

  “Yes, I’ll be there. Thanks.” I hit the end button and picked up my bag, looping the straps over my shoulder as I walked to the door.

  “You’re a fucking crazy person, you know that?” Matt yelled. “Jesus, Gia. Stop being so dramatic.”

  I didn’t say anything; I just shut the door behind me and half-ran to the steps, nearly blinded by the tears filling my eyes.

  The party that night was to celebrate the birthday of one of the football players. Leo and Quinn had been reluctant to go, and none of us wanted to stay very long, particularly after Matt arrived, already wasted, a girl under each arm, and made a point of ignoring me—although I noticed he got more physical with the girls whenever I was nearby.

  I hated that I was going to ruin Quinn and Leo’s night together by crashing in their hotel room, instead of staying in the dorms with Matt as originally planned, but Quinn insisted that it was fine. We got back to the hotel before midnight, and Leo amused us by pretending to be wildly enthusiastic about his first slumber party. He found a corny horror flick on the TV and proceeded to provide us with the blow-by-blow commentary on each scene.

  We turned off the lights and went to sleep just about one, and if I felt a little wistful that my friends were wrapped in each other’s arms as they said goodnight, I reminded myself how lucky I was to have friends who were so gracious and kind.

  It felt like I’d just closed my eyes when a loud pounding at the door woke me up. Leo cursed softly under his breath, Quinn’s moan muffled against his chest.

  “Gia!” The voice shouting was all too familiar. “Gia, let me in. I know you’re in there.”

  “Oh, fuck.” Leo sounded monumentally unhappy. “Jesus. What’s wrong with him?” The mattress creaked. “Stay here, you two. I’ll take care of him.”

  “I’m sorry, Leo.” I pushed myself to sit up. “I could talk to him—”

  “It’s not going to make any difference when he’s this drunk. Or high, or whatever the hell he might be. Just let me handle him.”

  A sliver of light from the hallway fell into the room when Leo opened the door a crack. I heard him talking to Matt, starting out with cajoling and moving into terse anger. Nothing seemed to make any difference.

  There was the whoosh of another door opening, and an unfamiliar and very-pissed-off voice added to the mix. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t quiet down, I’m calling the front desk to complain. This is ridiculous. It’s three in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” Leo’s voice was strained. “I’m trying to take care of this and make him leave. I apologize.”

  “If you don’t take care of it, I will.” The other door slammed, and Leo banged his hand against the doorjamb.

  “Matt, for the love of God, stop this. If that guy calls the front desk, they’ll send the cops and then they’ll arrest your ass. That’s going to be the last straw for Coach. Off the team. Probably kicked out of school. Is that really what you want?”

  “I’ve got to see Gia. I need her. C’mon, man, you know how it is. When you need your woman, you just need her.” The volume of his words began to rise again, and I jumped out of bed.

  “Leo, let him in. Maybe he’ll quiet down.”

  Leo tossed up his hands and stood back, moving out of the way so Matt could stagger into the room. He spotted me and threw his arms around me, aiming a kiss at my lips but missing, so that his mouth landed on my ear.

  Leo clicked on a small lamp that emitted dim light. He rubbed one hand over his face.

  Matt was bleary eyed, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled. I wondered if that was because he’d already been wasted when he’d gotten dressed again, after fucking one or both of those girls.

  “Gia . . . I had to see you. Come back to my room with me, baby. I need you. I need you so much.” He was almost sobbing, and my heart began to melt a little.

  “Matt, just get into bed and shut up.” Quinn had always been a grump if woken up in the middle of the night, and it was obvious that tonight was no exception.

  “No, I want to take her back with me to my bed. I want to make sweet love to my baby.” He cackled at his own phrasing, and I cringed. I was equal parts mad and embarrassed.

  “Matt, how did you get here?” I rested one hand on my hip and prayed he answered that he’d taken a cab or been dropped off.

  “My car. How else?” He was slurring, and his eyes were bloodshot. It was a miracle that he’d not only made it here, but also remembered how to find the hotel where we were staying.

  “All right.” I reached for my bag and zipped it up before I unplugged my phone from where it had been charging. “I’m going to drive him back to campus.”

  “Gia . . .” Quinn protested. “No. It’s not safe for you to do that, not at this time of the night. Just make him stay here.”

  “No. It’ll be better for everyone if he’s back there.” I slipped on my shoes and pulled my coat from the hanger. “I’ll call you in the morning.” Turning to Matt, I held out my hand. “Keys. Give them to me now.”

  He must’ve understood by my tone that I wasn’t fucking around, because he dropped the keyring into my palm without a single protest and then followed me as I headed for the door.

  “Good night!” he called back into the room as we left.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. “Keep your voice down. I’m trying to save your sorry ass, and I’m real close to just letting you fry, like you deserve.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” He sounded contrite, and I wished that I could believe him. Sober Matt was an undeniable asshole. Just Drunk Matt was mean and nasty. But Totally Inebriated Matt was sweet and needy, often inclined to apologies and promises he’d never remember in the morning.

  I got him into his car and back to the dorm, where he immediately fell into the bed. I paused just long enough to lock the door and kick off my shoes before I crawled in next to him.

  Matt pulled me into his arms, holding me tight. This version of Matt was a cuddler, and I’d wondered before if this incarnation was the little boy who still missed the mother he’d never known.

  “Gia, I’m sorry. I wasn’t nice before. I’m so sorry, baby.” This Matt was also liberal with his use of endearments. “I can be better. Don’t leave me, okay? Stay.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. Go to sleep. I�
��ll be right here with you.” I could make any promise I had to, because Matt would either not remember what I said or at least not acknowledge it in the bright light of morning.

  Within moments, his breathing evened out, and I knew he was sleeping. I skimmed my fingers over his chest and turned my head to rest my chin on his pec, watching his face. When he was sleeping, he looked so relaxed and . . . real. The mask of insolence and indifference had slipped away, and he was vulnerable. Open.

  This was what kept me hanging on. Matt and I had been caught up in this maddening dance of anger, fighting, screaming matches and recrimination—with brief episodes of mind-blowing sex and the occasional night like this, when he told me that he needed me and let me get close enough to believe that someday, we might be more.

  In a few hours, Matt would wake up, push me away and once again be a jerk. And I’d do what I did best: I’d pretend I didn’t care.

  Chapter Seven

  Gia, Now

  “Gia, stop fidgeting and put away the mirror. You look fine.” Tate sounded both amused and a little impatient, as though he found me at the same time adorable and slightly ridiculous. I wrinkled my nose and stuck out my tongue at him, and he laughed.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do that. I hate to break it to you, but it’s kind of at odds with your tough-girl persona.”

  I frowned. “I have a tough-girl persona? Really?”

  Tate snorted. “Uh, yeah. I’ve known since the first time I saw you that you’re a total ball-buster. But it’s one of the things I like about you. I always got the impression that you took no shit at all.”

  “Until I shattered that illusion by having a complete mental meltdown in the middle of the grocery store?” I still hated remembering how Tate had found me that night.

  “Not at all.” He flashed me that smile—that one I’d figured out was only for me, an idea that kind of scared the crap out of me—before he returned his attention to the road. “Mostly because it took you about five minutes before you got back to the sass and spunk, telling me I was crazy for wanting to take you to dinner.”

  “You are crazy,” I retorted. “I stand by that claim.” But because I was glad he hadn’t left me alone in the chip aisle, I added, “That meal, though. It was pretty incredible.”

  He quirked an eyebrow my way. “Just the food, or the company, too?”

  I shrugged, hiding a smile. “I enjoyed both.”

  Tate sighed, but I heard contentment there, something we’d both been feeling more lately. There’d been a subtle shift between us since his weekend in Richmond. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was . . . whether we’d had our first real spat and survived, or if it was true that absence made the heart grow fonder, but I’d been genuinely glad to see Tate the weekend after his return. I’d been fine without him, but the hours had definitely been emptier and duller.

  That was at least partly why, when Tate had suggested that we drive over to Gatbury to spend the afternoon with his grandfather, that I’d readily consented. I knew it was important to Tate, and I was willing to put aside my qualms about meeting a family member to make him happy. I also trusted him when he promised that Pops wasn’t seeing more in our relationship than was there.

  It was more than a little frightening to consider, but I was beginning to believe that Tate really was as honest and forthcoming as he’d said. I couldn’t deny that he told me the truth, even when it wasn’t convenient or in his best interest. He didn’t try to back-peddle, either, when I didn’t like something. Tate was who and what he seemed, from his placid exterior all the way through.

  And I’d be lying to myself if I said that I wasn’t getting more interested in the man beyond the pretty face and kill-me-now body. And who could blame me, when he was around so much now, doing sneaky things like reaching for something on a high shelf in my kitchen so that his shirt rode up, teasing me with a peek of his muscled back? Or when he leaned around me to do something, like just now, when he’d extended his arm to lock the door on my side of the car, and his arm—hard, toned and covered with fine light-brown hair—was right there, in front of my face?

  More and more, Tate just being Tate ignited feelings I’d thought were long dead or at least permanently dormant. I caught myself staring at him when he wasn’t paying attention, wondering absently what it would be like to lie beneath that solid warmth, to feel his weight hover over me. I imagined the sensation of his lips on mine, with his tongue teasing the inside of my mouth.

  I didn’t have to wonder what it would feel like to be enveloped in his arms, thanks to his impromptu hug a few weeks ago. I’d reacted badly to that, I knew, but it had been so unexpected and then I’d liked it so much. Out of instinct and need, at first I’d relaxed into him, and in those few seconds, I’d felt him on every pulse point of my body. My nipples had tightened, my center had gone soft, and if Tate had acted fast and kissed me, I didn’t know that I would’ve had the will-power to shut him down.

  But I’d recovered before he made a move, and I’d lashed out—in the extreme. I knew it was easier to be pissed off than it was to let him see the truth about how close I’d come to climbing his amazing body like it was a tree.

  “You know you don’t have anything to worry about.” Tate must’ve read my silence as nerves instead of what it really was: brooding on how hard it was becoming to fight my attraction to him. “Pops is going to lo—like you a lot. And he’s a decent guy, too. We don’t have to stay that long.” He slid me a glance. “Is there anyone you want to see while we’re across the bridge?”

  I shook my head. “Quinn would be the only one, but she’s still in California. I guess I should probably call Nate’s parents and offer to stop in to say hello, but I’m not really feeling it. I didn’t know them as well as Quinn did, of course.”

  “How about your mom? We could always see if she wanted to drive down and meet us for dinner.” Tate’s tone was even and neutral, not pushing me one or the other.

  “Nah.” The thought of seeing my mother made me more unsettled than the idea of meeting Tate’s grandfather. “She hates coming back down here. She always says my dad stuck her in a little town in the backwater and then took off for New York as soon as they split up. To say she’s resentful would be a gross understatement.”

  “That’s a shame. I loved growing up here. It was the best of both worlds, you know? We had neighbors and a community, but we also could be out in the country in just a few minutes. I had friends who lived on farms. Plus, there was that small-town feel, where everyone knew everyone else.”

  “I never saw that as a good thing,” I admitted. “People knew me as the youngest Capri girl, and if I did anything wrong, my mom heard about it fast. It annoyed her, because most of the time, she just wanted to get through my childhood and adolescence so she could move away.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tate reached across the console and covered my hand with his, squeezing my fingers. Usually, I would’ve tugged away from him, but today, I didn’t move. I let him hold my hand, and after a minute, I even turned mine so that our palms pressed together. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, but I also realized that I didn’t mind holding his hand. It was actually kind of nice.

  “She is who she is. I’ve accepted that. I can’t expect her to change.”

  “Maybe not, but it’s okay to admit that it hurts. Or that it did, at least.” Tate tightened his hold on my hand, turning the wheel with his other as we slowed coming into Gatbury. I looked out the window at the familiar neighborhoods. Growing up in South Jersey, I knew nearly as much about the bordering towns as I did about my own. Gatbury was slightly more upscale than Eatonboro, but only slightly. Both towns had been founded over a hundred years before by farming families who’d wanted schools, churches and closer community. Each had a few elementary schools that funneled into one middle school and one high school. And both fielded football teams that were fierce rivals.

  I thought about that now. “You know, I must’ve seen you play football
back when we were in high school. I never missed a game.”

  “Really?” Tate sounded surprised. “I never would’ve expected that. You were a groupie?”

  “No.” I managed to sound offended. “Please. I went to all the games ironically. I went so I could make fun of all the rah-rah girls and the people who oozed school spirit.”

  “Ahhh.” Tate looked like he was trying to keep from smirking, lost the battle and gave a full out chuckle. “That sounds more like the Gia I know. Clearly you weren’t crushing on the players?”

  “Not in those days. I preferred skinny hipsters and the occasional emo dude. Anything that might piss off my mother. My sisters were cheerleaders, and they all dated football players. Actually, they all married football players, too. I wasn’t going to follow in their footsteps.”

  “Huh.” Tate slowed at a stop sign and then hung a left. “Do any of their husbands still play?”

  “No, not since college. Now they’re all stockbrokers, lawyers and doctors. You know, the respectable careers.”

  “Nothing wrong with that, I guess, if it’s what you want to do. For me, the idea of being stuck behind a desk inside four walls all day every day sounds soul-crushing.”

  “Right?” I shifted in my seat. “It’s one of the things that worries me about journalism. Maybe I don’t want to be inside all the time, either. Maybe I want to travel, or at least have the opportunity to do it.” I tilted my head, studying Tate’s profile. His fingers were still holding mine as he drove one-handed. When he caught me watching him, one side of his mouth tipped up, and his dimple appeared.

  “What? What’re you looking at?”

  “Ummm . . .” I couldn’t admit that I was just enjoying the view. “Uh, what do you plan to do after you’re finished with football? I mean, you do have some kind of idea about what comes next, right?”