I feel a twist in my gut; a sharp sympathy pain for Eliza but who am I to argue with Cary Pierce? “Right…”
He pounds a fist on his desk. “Straighten up and get focused. Hire a tutor to bring those grades up. And tonight,” he grins, “I’m going to show you off at that press event.”
My eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“This season, we get their attention,” he says. “Next season, we keep it. By then, every college football fan in the country will know your name and the scouts will be lined up at your door.”
Holy shit.
“Thank you, Coach.”
“Now, get out of here,” he says, smiling. “Go to class or something.”
“I will.” I stand up and my knees feel even more wobbly than they did after that treadmill.
It’s all happening.
I don’t know what cosmic force decided I was worth bending the rules for, but I suddenly feel the need to get down on my knees for it. With Cary Pierce as my coach, backing me up, and pointing the spotlight in my direction, there’s no way I won’t get everything I want. I’ll get the contracts and the fame and the women. Everything beyond my wildest dreams will be in the palm of my hand.
I just have to stay focused and forget about distractions.
Distractions like Eliza Pierce.
Chapter 8
Eliza
“Take me with you.”
I scan the script, blinking repeatedly as I try to find the words. “Grant, that’s not your line.”
He pulls the book away from my face. “I’m talking about the shindig at your house tonight.”
“It’s not a shindig,” I sigh with impatience and glance around the talkative classroom. The professor broke us off into pairs to memorize a three-page scene and Grant and I have to perform ours first… in twenty minutes. “It’s an opportunity for my dad to parade me around in front of the cameras to better his image.”
“But the whole team will be there, right?” he asks.
“Most of them, probably.” I shrug. “Why?”
“Uhh… strapping young men in suits. You have to take me with you.”
“You don’t want to go to this, Grant.” I chuckle. “Believe me.”
He furrows his brow. “What’s gotten into you today? You don’t seem like your usual bright and fluffy self.”
I push aside the memories from earlier. “I just have a bug up my ass. Don’t worry about it.”
“Is this bug named Junior Morgan?”
“Shhh.” I look around to make sure no one heard that.
“What’d he do?”
“He said some shit that kinda ticked me off this morning, that’s all.”
“This morning, eh?” he winks.
“I ran into him at the gym,” I explain. “We didn’t spend the night together if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“What happened on your date?”
I cringe. “Long story.”
“Then, what kind of shit did he say this morning? You gotta give me something…”
The kind of shit that makes me a hypocrite for getting mad at.
One moment, I’m telling him to shift his focus to other women and the next, I feel dejected when he actually does. I hate myself for it.
I sigh and gesture with the script. “We should really memorize this scene.”
“Okay, fine, just one question: Do I need to kick his ass?” Grant offers, drawing a quick laugh from me. “Because I can, and I will.”
“No ass-kicking needed but thank you. I can handle it.”
“Good. But seriously, can I please come to your house tonight?” he begs. “Ty will be there.”
I chuckle at his obvious crush. “Fine. Just stay out of the way and don’t break anything.”
He gives a celebratory fist-pump. “Yes!”
“And dress up,” I tell him. “It’s a black-tie kind of thing.”
He frowns. “What are you going to wear?”
“I thought about going shopping after class…” His eyes grow wide and I grin. “You are more than welcome to join me.”
One last happy fist-pump later and we’re back into the scene, struggling to memorize it with our time now cut in half.
Junior is going to flip.
I’m not sure why the thought entered my head. I’m not even sure why I bought the dress in the first place. It’s a little out of my style preference — and way out of my price range — but my immediate thought went straight to what Junior Morgan’s reaction will be when he sees me in it. It’s sleek and black with a lone red stripe down the side that travels over my curve with perfect form.
And then, it hits me. Sweet revenge. That’s what this is.
Junior told me he wasn’t interested in me anymore; that I was more trouble than I’m worth. Getting passed aside shouldn’t be such a shock to me anymore but for some reason, coming from him, it stung. It cut deep — even deeper than feeling like my father’s accessory.
“This is my girl, Eliza!” he announces. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done it for this girl right here!”
There’s a series of awws from the news crews and their voices echo through the foyer as cameras flash in our direction, instantly blinding me. I’d probably fall over if it weren’t for his arm wrapped around my shoulders.
The reporters fire off a series of questions at me, but my father doesn’t give me a chance to reply to any of them. He answers for me with his loud voice, singing my praises but getting the details wrong.
I’m not a singer. I’m an actress.
I’m not a sophomore. I’m a junior.
But none of that really matters in the end, I guess. I just stand here and smile, tightening my hug around his waist as if he’s a giant, protective teddy bear because that’s what he wants me to do.
Finally, he drops his arm and waves for the camera crews to follow him. “Come on back and meet the team. There are some fantastic, young athletes here that I’m dying to introduce the world to.”
I grip the railing, staying put and smiling as I wave them goodbye like a fucking princess.
They all follow him through the house, and I wonder how I photographed in the dress. Hopefully, they couldn’t notice that I’m not wearing underwear. The darn thing was too tight to wear them comfortably.
“You look great. Relax.”
Grant marches down from his hiding place upstairs. He leans against the stairs in his rented tuxedo, grinning at me. “He’s definitely going to cream his boxers.”
“Who?”
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he snips. “I think we both know who you bought that dress for.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t bother trying to deny it. “I just want to have the last word, that’s all…”
“Honey, I think he’s going to be last wording to this dress three times a day for the next month…” Grant makes a subtle jerking motion with his fist and I laugh. “Consider your mission accomplished.”
“Okay, then.”