It’s why our group is currently spread out all around the den of the AK house. The room used to be my favorite at the frat, but since the night Kay was hurt, I haven’t been able to bring myself to hang out in here without seeing her crumpled on the floor, blood forming a puddle around her head.
I have to actively shake my head to rid myself of that image creeping its way to the forefront of my mind. Precious seconds pass before I’m able to blink it away and focus on the actual scene in front of me.
Em and Grayson are back to quizzing each other with flashcards now that she’s returned from taking a phone call. Quinn’s head is bent toward CK, close enough for her ponytail to brush him any time she lifts her face to ask him a question. Alex, Noah, and Kev are all pounding away on their laptops, and Bailey—though I’m not sure how I feel about it—is here, highlighter running over the pages of the textbook spread across her bent knees.
My girl is the only one missing. If she hadn’t sent me a text earlier saying she had to take care of a few things before she came over, I’d be worried as hell. Though it would earn me both an eye roll and Kay calling me out for being an overprotective caveman, I wouldn’t have hesitated to go to her dorm to check on her.
Her agreeing to let us move our study session to the AK house was a feat in and of itself. She already had a general dislike for anything fraternity life, but it still being unclear how Liam and his cronies gained entry during the party makes it exponentially more uncomfortable for her to be here. My gut may be trying to convince me otherwise, but the fact of the matter is, it was a frat party with hundreds of people crammed inside the mansion. It would be easy for someone to slip in without notice.
When Kay does show up, it’s with a bang—literally. The swinging door from the hall slams into the wall with her entrance. Her strides are the longest I’ve ever seen her take, and I think if it were physically possible, she would have steam coming out of her ears. I throw an elbow back when Trav leans into my side to whisper a similar sentiment.
Kay flops down on the remaining open cushion beside me with a huff, her movements jerky as she pulls the strap of her book bag from her shoulder, aggressively tugging open the zipper, lifting her laptop free, and slamming it onto her lap.
When she stays silent instead of filling the now expectantly watching room in on what has her so worked up, I place my own MacBook on the low table and turn to face Kay, her body falling back against the couch’s arm as I cage her in with my hands braced on either side of her.
Her torso twists my way, but she still refuses to look at me. “Hey.” I tuck two fingers beneath her chin and push until her gray eyes rise to my greens. “Wanna talk about it?”
Her eyes shift down and to the left. “Talk about what?” She tries to brush me off, but I hear the strain in her voice.
“Oh, I don’t know…” Trav props his chin on my shoulder like I’m a pirate and he’s my parrot, stretching an arm out to circle a finger inches in front of Kay’s nose. “Whatever it is that has you making…that face.”
I can’t see her because she’s behind me, but I know it’s Em who is the one to snort.
“Smooth, bro,” Grayson coughs under his breath, joining in with Em’s laughter.
“Whatever G.” Trav finally remembers a little thing called personal space and backs up. “I’m just saying the look Short Stack is currently sporting is fiercer than Kev’s when he’s staring down a quarterback.”
Kay blinks, the tempting lips I still haven’t gotten a chance to kiss parting as she brings her attention to Trav. “You called him G.” It’s cute that she’s surprised by this.
“You’re my sis, he’s your bro. That’s what he goes by in this family, so why not?”
Trying to bring the conversation back around to what I need to know before I blow a gasket, I cup the side of Kay’s face, running a thumb over the still healing cheekbone. She nuzzles into my hand as if seeking solace in my touch.
“My number has found its way into the hands of the few more…persistent reporters. I’ve been fielding calls from—and by fielding, I mean hanging up on—them for the last two hours.”
“The fuck?” I rear back. A part of me can’t blame the press and Instagram followers for their obsession with my girl; she’s hot, charming—when she wants to be—and her and E’s history makes for one hell of a compelling story. Combine all that with how attractive of a couple we make, and I get it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“Would it…” I trail off, the thought popping into my mind and blindsiding me.
Holy shit! Tell me you aren’t actually considering this, Nova. The evil eye my inner coach is giving me has nothing on what Brantley’s reaction would be.
“Would what, Mase?”
Kay’s soft voice has me snapping back to the present. The instant way her stormy expression eases as she locks eyes with mine is the reason this thought of mine was born. She is the reason.
“Do you think they would lose interest faster if I announced that I’m not going to declare for the draft this year?”
The room freezes like someone pressed the pause button. All activity stops. Fuck!
“WHAT?!” Kay snaps, her earlier fury returning with a vengeance. Shit! This is more the response I expected from Brantley, not her.
My fingers flex around her skull. “I have another year of eligibility left. What if I play it out? I’m less of a story if I’m not a part of this year’s draft class.”
“That’s a naive way to think.” Ouch. In all the times she’s sassed me, I don’t think she has ever blatantly insulted me, but I feel like that’s exactly what she just did. “You’re too good of a football player for that to work.” Her soft smile soothes more than the compliment. “Don’t let this taint all the epic things coming your way. You”—she mirrors my hold, cupping my face—“deserve to live your dream now.”
What if my dream has changed?
“Besides”—she waves a hand in the air—“their calls were more because the video with Liam still has traction.” I know she worries about how I’ve been questioned about what went down, but why is she looking at Em when she says this? Why is she apologizing to Em?
My confusion only grows when Em brushes her off, adding, “This will all blow over and they’ll get over it.”
Who are they?
Kay doesn’t seem convinced, the furrow between her brows deepening and her frown increasing.
Unable to see her upset over that fucknut who just won’t go away, I scoop Kay into my arms and place her on my lap, pressing a hard kiss on her lips. It only takes a second for her to melt into me, the drama forgotten.
For now.
#Chapter25
All the zen I was able to find after coaching at The Barracks for the first time in almost a month disappears as I pull to a stop in front of the closed gates at Mason’s family’s estate. I haven’t been back here since the night I accidentally slept over at the start of our relationship. I don’t know why, but I feel intimidated being here now.
Could it be that you’re finally going to have the lady balls to have that conversation with Mase and Trav about their split-personality ex, the one you’ve been putting off? I could do without the judgmental tone from my inner cheerleader.