She hands me a sheet of paper, and I scan the courses I’ll need for second semester.
After I thank her, I skip out of the office, elated to have taken care of an appointment I’ve put off for so long. It’s not the computer engineering major my brothers aced, but at least I’ll be graduating on time. Plus, it’s a major I love.
I’m so busy studying the list she printed for me that I don’t see Destiny until we come almost nose to nose. I stumble to a halt at the last second.
She appears just as surprised to see me as I am to see her. I’m about to apologize for almost running her over when I stop myself. Fuck that. I look the other way and am walking around her when she grabs my arm.
“Sienna. Can we talk?”
I’m debating whether I can tell her to fuck herself in the middle of the counseling office when I get a good look at her face. Her eyes are swollen, and her nose is red. She has a wad of tissue in her hands. Her usual French manicure is badly chipped.
I stand there, trying to dredge up the rage I felt when I caught her in bed with Cal, but all I feel is annoyance that she made fun of my small boobs. Because, really, she’s welcome to that scumbag.
“What do you want, Destiny? Didn’t you get all of your jollies by tagging me in those pics of you and Cal over break?”
She blinks and shakes her head. “I swear I never tagged you in anything.”
A laugh escapes me. “You mean the same way you would’ve sworn you weren’t sleeping with my boyfriend?”
I head for the door, but she grabs me again. “Please, Sienna. I know you have no reason to listen to me, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”
I’m about to tell her that’s really not my problem when she starts to cry. And not just a few tears and a lower lip quiver. A full-out torrent.
I let out a big breath. Destiny and I will never be friends again, but it’s not my style to kick someone when they’re down.
“What’s wrong? Did Cal dump you already?” I don’t mean to be quite so bitchy, but the words escape me before I think better of it.
She starts to cry harder.
Yikes. I was just taking a shot in the dark. I didn’t think he’d really dump her. She seemed happy accepting whatever he was willing to give her when he wasn’t banging other women.
But then she says the last thing I expect.
“I’m pre—pre—pregnant, but Cal insists it isn’t his. Except I haven’t—haven’t—I haven’t been with anyone else. And how the hell can I play on the volleyball team this year if I’m waddling around?” she wails.
Well, damn.
Now I feel like an ass. Not that I forgive her, but that does suck.
We sit outside Mrs. Uvalde’s office while Destiny wails and tells me about her relationship with Cal. I’ll admit it’s surreal to hear what my ex was doing behind my back with Destiny, but I find it doesn’t bother me. Because I’m really happy with Ben. With our friendship and everything else.
The universe did me a favor by helping me discover what a rat Cal was. As I look at Destiny, who sobs into a soggy tissue, I realize this could be me. I could be sitting here hysterical because that dumbass knocked me up and dumped me.
Dodged a bullet there.
One of the secretaries interrupts us. “Girls, our hours are shorter on Saturday. We’re closing soon.”
As Destiny and I head out, I ask her what she’s going to do.
She sniffs as her puffy eyes narrow. “I’m gonna get even with that motherfucker.”
If anyone deserves to have his ass kicked for douchebaggery, it’s Cal Winston.
But Confucius once said, “Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.” It’s why, no matter how horribly Cal treated me, I won’t be the one to get even.
Maybe Destiny will.
And it’s possible I might be rooting for her.
36
BEN
The alarm blares from the bedside table, and I groan. For some reason, getting out of bed for training camp is so much harder when I have a beautiful woman nestled against me than when I’m alone.
I kiss the top of Sienna’s head before I scoot out from under the covers.
“Hey,” she whispers. “Good luck today. Kick ass. Take names. Be a beast.”
I smile and lean over to kiss her more fully, and she wraps her arms around my neck.
“None of that,” I tease. “I’ll never get to practice if you’re too enticing.”
With a wicked grin, she slides the covers down until her pert nipples greet me. Leaning down, I take a quick lick of one. “We’ll continue this when I get home.”
She shivers. “It’s a deal. Oh, I packed you a lunch. It’s in the fridge.”
Sienna’s too fucking sweet. I don’t have the heart to tell her they’ll feed us at the stadium, but I could always use a snack. “Thanks, sunshine. Will you and Lily be okay?”
“Yup. I’m just interviewing a couple of babysitting candidates.”
Now that I understand how hard everything is with a kid in tow, I realize we should’ve skipped vacation and used that time to interview candidates. But how was I to know Janelle was gonna bail?
Just the thought of her taking off on Lily boils my blood, but I shove it down and try to get in football mode.
I’ve been dreading this day since last season ended. The thought of getting a new coach my senior year ratchets up my anxiety, but I have so much riding on this, and I have to stay calm and focused.
After one more glance at my gorgeous girlfriend, I get my ass in gear. I stop by Lily’s room before I head out. She’s sleeping soundly, her curls a riot at the top of her little head.
“Wish me luck, kid,” I whisper. “I hear Coach is a ballbuster.”
When I get to the stadium, we store our crap in the locker room and head to the main meeting room where Coach Krugman watches us with an impassive expression on his face. I don’t know why, but I have a bad feeling about this, and for the hundredth time I doubt my decision not to enter the draft last spring.
I’d been afraid of getting a career-ending injury, losing my dream of the NFL, and not having a degree to fall back on. But what if I’d done well? What if I’d kicked ass? Why the fuck did I play it safe?
It’s too late now to lament my choice, but I wish I’d gone for it.
Winston struts in and high-fives a few of his friends, but when he sees me, he itches his face with his middle finger.
Sienna told me about Destiny’s beef with Winston. Can’t say that comes as a shocker.
I make a rude gesture toward him in response.
Olly drops into the chair next to me. Under his breath, he says, “I miss Coach Sully.”
“Same.”
“What are the odds we’ll do better than last season?”
I glance at the new faces of all the incoming freshmen. At Evan Meyers, our returning quarterback, who doesn’t have half the command Rider did. At the transfers. At all the new coaching staff who rode in with Krugman. “Not good.”
We lost Rider, the Heisman winner; Tank, one of the best offensive linemen in the country; and a handful of other outstanding players who graduated. We’re probably screwed.