“Why are you doing this? What do you want?”
“I want you to leave. You’ve been fawning over Miss Priss up there from the moment your fine ass stepped into our stadium.” There’s something deeper lingering under the surface. It’s almost like she’s jealous of Bria. Maybe she’s jealous of me and Bria being together, but I think it’s bigger than that.
Why can’t I ever catch a goddamn break? When I finally think things are getting back in order and my life is coming together, this happens.
Little does she know, Bria currently wants nothing to do with me. Giving her space will be easy enough. But she wants me to leave, to quit? Can I?
Maybe I can. I mean, with Amanda backing down, Murray would have no reason to not put me back on the roster. I could go back to normal, to how things were before.
Before Bria.
No. I don’t think I can ever go back to how things were before her. I can’t just forget her and act like nothing happened.
“Do you want money or a date or what the hell is it?”
She laughs one of those evil, maniacal laughs the villains make in all the movies. “No, I just want you gone. I want Bria to feel like a supporting character in her life for once instead of holding center stage all the time.”
This girl is certifiable. She pushes a strand of brown hair behind her ear and leans against the couch.
“Do we have a deal? You disappear and I keep all of your many secrets. Should be an easy decision, yes?”
“Playoffs start soon. I want to be here for the end of the season. I want to see this through and then I’ll go,” I plead with her, and she groans.
“Is that what you want?” I nod. “Here are your options, Tatum. Either you leave now and leave her wondering what she did wrong, or you can stay, but if you stay, you need to make her think you’re into me.”
I guess she is jealous of me and Bria after all. “Why are you doing this to her?”
“I’m not saying anything will happen. I heard you two up there. I don’t need her sloppy seconds; I’m not that pathetic. But she needs to believe it. Crush her. Sell it and you can stay.”
“You’re her best friend. What did she ever do to you?”
“It’s none of your goddamn business. She knows what she did. Now it’s your turn to make a decision.”
I waver. But if I stay, I’ll be able to figure a way around this. “Fine.” Her smile would give the Cheshire cat a run for its money. “But, Morgan, I promise you’re going to regret this.”
She turns to head into the kitchen while I stand frozen by the door, waiting for her to retaliate.
“You can go now.” She dismisses me and like a zombie, I leave.
What the fuck just happened?
Chapter Thirty-One
Bria
“How could I be so stupid?” I take a bite of my salad and chew while I wait for my roommate to respond. I’m finally cashing in on the girls’ day I promised her, but I’m sure this is not what she intended. I feel bad laying all of my problems out on her, but I can’t focus on anything else.
She’s thoughtful considering all the information I threw at her. Between admitting I slept with Tatum and his major foot-in-mouth confession after, I wouldn’t know where to begin either.
“Why do you even care at this point? He’s proven himself to you time and time again—he’s nothing but a giant fuckwad. You need to move on.” I open my mouth, but she puts up her palm to stop me. “No, listen to me. He’s been playing you since the beginning, even you admitted that. How many chances does he get? Two, I can understand. Hell, even three, but we are far past that point.”
“I can’t turn off my feelings for him because you tell me to.”
“I know. I get it. All I’m saying is, take some time. Next week is Thanksgiving. Go home and don’t think about him. When you get back, playoffs start and that can be our primary focus. I’ll help you through it. We’ll kick ass during playoffs, we’ll celebrate and find new guys who will make us forget all about our sexy, douchey coach. Deal?”
“Deal.” I sigh and take a sip of water. “But he’s going to be hard to forget. Morg, you don’t even know how good the sex was. I mean, he was,” I hold my hands up to gauge the size of his dick to make her understand, “this big. And not skinny either. And yeah, I know, it’s all about the motion of the ocean or whatever, but the dude knows what he’s doing. The boat was rocking, if you catch my drift. I think I came like, three times. I don’t even know. I lost count.”
My best friend stares at me, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. “That good, huh? Then we need to find you someone bigger and even better.”
“I don’t think I can handle bigger.” I burst into giggles and she laughs along, rolling her eyes and pretending to shudder. We’re best friends; we’ve always told each other everything.
The remaining days before break pass in a blur. All of my classes are in prep mode for finals which will happen almost as soon as we get back from Thanksgiving break. Between finals and playoffs, I won’t have a minute to think about anything but school and soccer. No room for boys in my life or my mind.
Or vagina.
The minute my class ends, I pack up my car and make the trek home. I miss my mom, but a week with her can be draining. Not to mention, with everything going on in my life lately, I don’t have much good news to pass on. She’s done everything in her power to make sure I’m happy and healthy; I can’t go home without being able to assure her nothing she’s done for me has been in vain.
I can already hear her lecture if I were to tell her about Tatum. Not about the fact that he’s my coach or anything. No, she would only see his bad qualities. How he’s a career playboy and knocked some girl up. She would see every decision he’s made with me as a manipulation meant to hurt me, to make me a victim.
And she might be right. I don’t have much to argue against those facts, which says a lot more about the situation than I’m willing to admit.
I get lost in the drive and when I pull up to my mom’s house, she throws the door open and runs out to greet me. The minute I step out of the car, her arms are around me, squeezing me half to death. She holds me at arm’s length to study me and her face falls in an instant.
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”
There goes my plan for a relaxing break.
I’m glad I got to spend the last week with my mom, but I’m also ready to head back to school tomorrow. I’m re-packing my duffel bag in my old bedroom when my mom comes in and sits down on the bed.
“I’ve been watching the news lately,” she tells me, as if it’s brand new information. She’s always been obsessed with keeping up with the news, even if I don’t think it’s good for her anxiety.
“Hmm.” I’m too focused on folding up my Nike shorts to catch her searching tone.
“Your school has come up quite a bit recently.” I pause, but think better of it and resume my packing. I don’t want to push for more information since I’m sure I already know what she’s going to say. At the same time, not asking may look suspicious as well.