Hope for Him (Hope Series Book #2) (13 page)

I sipped the dry red wine and smiled at Kayla as Tiffany sighed and she headed back in the kitchen. Everyone sampled their salad. After Tiffany returned with water, Kayla spoke up. 

"I'm sorry. I've never been to a dinner party where they dress the salad without asking first. I hate to be annoying, but I'm allergic to beets."

"Oh." Tiffany's face turned red. She got up and removed the plate and came back with an undressed salad and a bottle of ranch. "Is this okay?"

"Sure." Kayla took the bottle and banged on it to get the dressing to come out.

"Oh, hey, can I have some of that." Jeff grabbed the bottle and dumped it on his salad. He took a big bite and licked the ranch dressing from his lips. "Now that's good."

The rest of us pushed the salad around the plates. We took small bites and tried not to react to the rank combination of blue cheese and beets.

Tiffany allowed the NFL game to play in the background, and every two minutes, Jeff leaned over to check the game’s progress and report back to the table.  Other than that, we had no other conversation until Tiffany went into the kitchen to get the second course.

"Dude, are we allowed to talk about the game?"

"Yeah, was it as close as the score said?" I asked.

"It shouldn't have been. D made stupid mistakes," Richard said.

"You did your part," I said to Richard and smiled at him. His ears turned the cutest shade of red, and he smiled back. He scored two touchdowns, one a sixty-yard bomb in the end zone.

I grabbed the glass in front of me and took a sip as Kayla and Jackson stared at me.

"Don't forget about my stellar debut," Jeff said.

"It was all right, but you missed two blocks," Richard said.

"What blocks?"

"The ones where I got sacked."

"That wasn't my block," Jeff said and took a drag of his beer. "Was it?" He wrinkled his nose as if the answer was inside his head.

"Get the tape," Richard said.

Jackson got up and headed to his room as Tiffany walked back into to the dining room.

"Hey, where are you going?"

Jackson didn't answer her; he came right back with his iPad in his hand.

The team trainers downloaded game film onto the player’s iPads seconds after the game.

He squatted between Jeff and Richard and swiped until he found the play.

When he found it, he played it about six times for Jeff to see.

"Okay. I admit I missed the block."

"Don't worry, Jeff. I know it won't happen again," Jackson said.

Jeff settled in his seat. "Bet it won't happen again."

"Now, that's what I'm talking about."

They bumped fist and both turned to face Tiffany, who stood with two plates in her hands and thin lips stretched in a grimace across her face.

Jackson sat the iPad on the counter and took his seat without another word. I stared straight ahead but nudged Richard under the table to try and get him to stop giggling. 

I turned to look at Jackson, and he didn't bother to hide the hurt look on his face.

C
arrington Olivia Butler

A week went by and besides a few random texts, Jackson stayed away. I wasn't sure if he was mad at me or embarrassed about the other night. I figured I could dwell on it and waste more time on Jackson, or I could move on.

After two weeks with no real contact with Jackson except for more text messages and our game day talks, we made no plans to see each other. With only two classes, I never saw Jackson on campus. He seemed to remove himself from my life, and it made my heart hurt.

On the other hand, Richard made it his second major to keep an eye on me. 

He called me after the dinner party, and we recounted the entire evening, adding our own commentary to the event. We avoided personal topics—like the tension between Tiffany and me and Jackson’s strange reaction to our flirting.

The topic of our actual flirting went undiscussed, too. Although, we continued the activity, with enthusiasm over the phone. 

Richard asked me out the day after the dinner party. I declined, using my little guy as the perfect excuse. His sincerity and persistence touched me. Maybe I was just hard up for male attention because after two weeks of asking, I finally agreed to have dinner with him. 

He picked me up in his black Jeep. Richard's clean cut and polished look contrasted with the grimy truck. I watched as he walked to my door in a pair of khaki slacks and an off-white button-down shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up and he had tucked his damp shoulder-length hair behind his ears. As he approached, I thought of a rugged male model in a commercial emerging from a day of off-roading, stepping out of his dirty truck, ready for an intimate dinner with a beautiful woman. It would be a commercial about deodorant or men’s body spray. 

I looked down at my black leggings, oversized black shirt, and flats and felt underdressed.

"Hey." He leaned over and hugged me around my shoulders. His hesitation to touch me was evident, but I followed his lead. "God, you look beautiful. You ready?"

"Yeah." I blushed while I closed and locked the door behind me.

"Where's Jack?"

"Kayla has him at her place for the night."

"Really." He smirked and placed a hand behind me, but he never touched my back. When we approached the car, he opened my door.

"Be careful. I didn't have a chance to clean the truck. I didn't expect you to say yes so soon."

I climbed into the Jeep. I hoped my declaration of where Jack was didn't give him any thoughts of what we were doing after dinner.

"Where do you want to eat?" Richard asked. He drove out of the complex and on to the main road. "Why don't we head out toward the highway? Have you been to Buckhead Brewery?"

"No."

"Cool. They have great food,” Richard said.

Richard plugged his iPhone into the car radio and scrolled through until he found the song he wanted. When he turned the radio on, country/hip-hop music blasted through the speakers. I laughed and he reached to turn it down a little.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing."

"You don't like Florida Georgia Line?"

"No, it’s okay."

"What?"

"Did you play it for me because it’s the only hip-hop related song on your iPhone?"

"No, actually it’s the most respectable song on my iPhone. My playlist is full of gangsta rap. I didn't think all that sexism and degradation of women was appropriate for our first date."

I grabbed his phone and scrolled through the music. It was full of Jay-Z, Lil Wayne, and Young Jeezy. I selected my favorite Lil Wayne song, "How to Love" and I handed his phone back to him.

"That's better."

"Nice."

We rode the rest of the way in silence.  I swayed to the music and caught Richard staring. I stopped, and his smile went away. I wasn't quite sure why I agreed to go out with him, considering Jackson and Richard were friends.

Was I going out with Richard to make Jackson jealous? I saw the way he stared at me when he caught us laughing or whispering to each other, but I had no reason to feel bad.

We arrived at the restaurant and the waitress knew Richard by name. Tallahassee was a small town and the FSU football players were local celebrities.

Richard walked through the place, nodding at many people and stopping to speak to others. The Buckhead Brewery was decorated in dark wood and plaid with animal skins on the wall. It was a ski lodge, minus the mountain, cold temperatures, and snow. The restaurant was packed on a Thursday, and we walked to the far side of the restaurant to reach our table. 

Everyone wanted to talk to or be acknowledged by Richard. Jackson said he dealt with the same thing when he went around town. He was the highest-profile person to come out of FSU in years. When we stopped to talk to everyone, Richard introduced me, and they all greeted me. One older woman told me how beautiful I was and squeezed my arm and nodded her head at Richard and me.

Was she giving us her approval? 

When we reached our table, Richard pulled out the oversized mahogany wood chair and I jumped up into it, my feet barely reaching the ground.

He sat across from me and his broad shoulders filled the width of the back of the chair.

The waitress handed us menus written on a two-foot wooden panel. Mine fell to the table with a slap and I leaned on my elbow and hoped no one saw me drop the menu.

I met Richard's eyes and an amused expression spread across his face. I tucked my hair behind my ear and attempted to pick up the massive menu, with both hands this time.

I didn't read the menu. My mind wandered to what I was doing here, and I ignored the way Richard looked at me. Like he wanted me for dinner. He wasn't aggressive about it. He was a perfect gentleman, but the looks he threw my way made my heart skip a beat. That would be fine if that same heart didn't belong to someone else.

"What do you want?" he asked. I sat up straight.

"What?"

"For dinner, what you want? What looks good?"

I relaxed and concentrated on the menu. When the waitress returned, I ordered a cheeseburger and sweet potato fries. Richard ordered a steak and baked potato.

My eyes scanned the restaurant. It was filled with couples and families. The kids at the table next to us had their head down and drew on paper provided by the restaurant. The parents were deep in discussion, but they seemed so happy and relaxed. The woman's eyes lit up and she laughed at something her husband said. He reached for her hand and kissed it before he continued his story.

The scene made me think of Jackson. How could it not? I was on a date with Richard, but it didn't change how I felt about Jackson. It didn't change the real reason I came back to FSU.

I found Richard staring at me.

"You look so beautiful when you smile like that," he said.

"Thank you." I looked down and prayed he wouldn't ask me what I was smiling about.

#

J
ackson Latre Mitchell

I told Tiffany I was going to a teammate’s house to watch Thursday night football and hang out. She insisted on coming along. In fact, she insisted on coming with me everywhere she figured Carrington would show up. She didn't want me to have to deal with Carrington without her, in case I forgot how to deal with Carrington. She was thoughtful like that.

She didn't have anything to worry about. After the dinner party from hell, Carrington had ignored me. Well, not ignored, but when I texted her, it was one-word responses. We talked on game day, but that was more scripted than any true feelings, and we never saw each other. 

When she walked into the house party, with Richard following close behind, I knew why I hadn't seen or talked to her. She was busy ... with my wide receiver.

If she was surprised to see me, she played it off well. She caught my eye for a split second but turned and walked into the kitchen. Richard didn't hide his surprise. He froze when he saw me sitting on the couch as if he were caught. Fuck, he
was
caught. He didn't have my permission to date Carrington.

I tried with all I had not to react. I sat down and remained silent, although, under my shirt, I was sweating bullets. He shrugged his shoulders, saluted me, and followed Carrington into the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. 

I stood up to have a better vantage point. I headed across the room as if locating a better angle to catch the game, but I lingered behind the couch to keep my eye on Carrington standing in the kitchen.

Tiffany and her girls had headed into the back room to watch her favorite show. I didn't have to worry about her. Carrington laughed and my heart beat speed up. A teammate walked by with two beers in red cups, and I took one and downed it in one gulp.

"Damn, J. You want another one." I took the other beer from his outstretched hand and downed that one, too.

I walked around the room, to get a better look at Carrington and Richard. He had his arm around her shoulder and they were laughing at the antics of another teammate.

Carrington stood inside the kitchen but next to a hallway that ran the length of the house. It led to a few other bedrooms, including the room Tiffany was in. I knew this was a bad idea before I took the first step, but I had to do it. I couldn't stand to watch as he put his hands all over her. I couldn't sit back and watch her laugh and have the time of her life. I couldn't sit by for another second. I needed to talk to her, but I hesitated because I didn't know what I was going to say to her. Something along the lines of I want you, but I can't have you, but you can't have anyone else.

Yeah, that would go over great.

Richard leaned in and brushed his lips against her ear, and she stiffened. It was slight, but I detected it. She didn't want his lips or anything of his on her, and I needed to save her. She needed me to rescue her. It was all the encouragement I needed.

I walked down the hallway and stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. Our eyes locked and she reached out and I grabbed her arm and pulled her behind me. I walked right past the room Tiffany was in and into the last bedroom. I dragged her into the room and turned to close the door.

I took a minute to calm down facing the door. I wasn't angry with her; I wanted to talk to her. I hoped the words would come to me, but she recoiled when I turned around. She hugged herself and backed up. She took a couple steps and her leg caught on the edge of the bed and she went down. When I approached her, she scooted back against the wall with wide, tear-filled eyes. I stood over her. I reached down to help her up, but she moved her hands in front of her face.

"Stop. Don't touch me."

I straightened up and backed away from her. I tried my best not to freak out, but Carrington was in a trance. Her eyes fogged over.

"Don't. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

My eyes narrowed as I saw her protecting herself, cowering in the corner, and it hit me. All my own issues went away. 

"Oh, my God. Carrington. It's me. It's okay. I won't hurt you."

Her eyes glazed over, and her body trembled. 

"Carrington, it's me, Jackson. You're okay."