Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (2 page)

When I got back to my apartment, my new roommate was waiting up for me, sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in one hand and a smartphone in the other. The wall between our unit and the next vibrated with a rhythmic thumping bass that I recognized as Rihanna's “Needed Me”. Chelease's face as she looked over at me told me all I needed to know about her feelings on the matter.

I let the screen door slam shut behind me and thanked God that I had an excuse for my flushed skin and red cheeks. My Fitbit continued to bitch at me about my heart rate, so I tore it off my arm and tossed it on the table.

“What's up?” I asked as I reached back and let my hair tumble out of my ponytail. As soon as it hit the back of my neck, it stuck right to my sweaty skin along with everything else. I was seriously going to have to peel my t-shirt off my skin like it was covered in adhesive.
So not sexy.
And
that's
how I got to run into Tyce Winship for the first time in forever.
Great.

“I hope your run was at least successful,” Chelease said, taking a sip of her wine and then tossing an evil glare over one perfect shoulder. She looked like a model with her flawless skin and trim but feminine form, but acted like a cranky old schoolteacher. I'd only met her a couple of weeks ago and already, I was starting to wonder how we were going to work as roomies. I wasn't exactly a partier myself, but the sound of people having fun just didn't get me worked up like it did her. “Because if you were hoping to relax tonight, you can kiss that wish good-bye.”

“Sorry,” I said as I moved around her and headed into the kitchen to refill my water bottle. I realized as I turned the tap on that my hands were still shaking. I kept telling myself it was just shock, the surprise of such a strange coincidence, but I knew myself better than that.
What an asshole,
I thought as I remembered Tyce's face as he looked me over.
“Have we fucked?”
Seriously? “How long has it been going on?”

“They turned on that
noise
about five minutes after you left,” Chelease said, putting her phone down on the glass and steel coffee table in front of her. All the décor here, the furniture, it all belonged to Chelease. She was into this industrial chic look that wasn't my favorite, but hey, I drove up here with everything I owned stuffed into the back of a rickety old pickup truck, one that I quickly sold for the first month's rent on this place. Right now, this overpriced apartment felt like heaven.

Anything is better than home,
I thought as I swallowed hard and tipped back my water bottle. The cool liquid helped soothe the burning ache of memories better left buried.

“I called the cops about twenty minutes ago,” Chelease said as she unfolded her long, lean frame and came to stand next to me in the kitchen. Her dark hair was done up in dozens of tiny braids and swept over her shoulder, falling down her back in a waterfall while mine stuck up and frizzed around my face like the flickering flames of a fire. If I washed and blow-dried it, it was actually pretty, like a twisted sea of ruby strands to frame my pale face. Right then, I'd have killed for Chelease's dark locks. “I doubt they'll even bother to stop by though,” Chelease continued with the smirk of gossip playing on her lips. Her eyes shimmered like bitter coffee as she got ready to spill some secrets on me. “That quarterback is over there tonight. You know, the
Prince of Green and Yellow.
Like they'd bust a player with a game coming up. This whole town is starstruck.” A shrug of those thin shoulders. I squeezed my water bottle tight, the thin plastic crinkling as liquid streamed over my knuckles.

“Crap,” I said as I turned and dropped it in the sink, splashing droplets all over my already wet shirt.

Chelease leaned on the counter next to me and tried to give me a look that I ignored.

“Don't tell me
you
have a thing for Tyce Winship, too?” she said with a roll of her eyes. “If I have to hear another girl tell me how handsome he is, I'll scream.” Chelease stood up with a swish of skirts and made her way around the cabinets and over to the wall. Raising a fist, she slammed it into the drywall hard enough to make the pictures rattle. “You hear that,
Tyce Winship,
I know you're over there and I don't give a shit! Turn that music down!”

“How do you know he's even here?” I asked as I made my way to the window and parted the curtains. Some of the partygoers had spilled down the concrete steps and were hanging out with red solo cups on the lawn below. There was a lot of green and yellow down there, shirts to champion the Ducks, but I didn't see Tyce, thank God.

Two coincidences in one night? I don't think so.

“Oh, he's there,” Chelease said, pouring herself another glass of red wine. “You want some?” she asked, but I shook my head. I already had a migraine building behind my eyes. The last thing I needed right now was alcohol. “Anyway, I saw him jog up the steps without a shirt on. I might not be a football fan, but I'd recognize that ink anywhere.”

I closed my eyes for a moment and dropped the curtains in a flutter of silver fabric.

No. Fucking. Way.

Four years ago, I would've done anything to find him again. Now, I couldn't seem to get rid of the guy. I opened my eyes back up and found Chelease studying me with her gossip eye. If she got a hold of my past, my connection to Tyce, then I might as well take out the front page of the
Eugene Weekly
because everybody and their grandma would find out about it.

“I'm gonna grab a shower,” I said as I forced myself to smile at Chelease, gesturing at my sweaty clothes in explanation. “If the cops do show up, I'd rather not smell like old gym socks.” Chelease made an
mm-hmm
sound under her breath, but she didn't stop me from moving down the short hall and barricading myself in my room.

I flicked the lock on my door, like that'd somehow keep the last few hours of my life out of my mind.

Tyce Winship.

What were the chances?

I took a deep breath and tilted my head back so that I was staring up at the white popcorn ceiling, a throwback to the decade this building was built. Everything else had changed: new granite in the kitchen, new tiles in the bathroom, new carpet in the bedrooms. But this … it was still here, an ugly reminder of a time long past. Kind of like my memories of Tyce. I took a deep breath and stood up, moving over to the mirrored dresser under the window. That, too, belonged to Chelease, but that was okay. I'd learned a long time ago that possessions were pretty damn unimportant. People, connections, the feeling of freedom … of safety and security. Those were the things that mattered.

At least, to me they did.

Considering what Tyce did to me, disappearing in the middle of the night during his junior year of high school, I guess that stuff didn't actually matter to him. If it had, he never would've left me in that town by myself. When he needed me, I was there for him. I guess it didn't go both ways though, did it?

With a sigh, I grabbed a clean tank and some yoga pants. Part of me wanted to go over to that party, find Tyce, and throw a stack of pictures in his face. I had so many. There was a cereal box in my closet filled with dusty Polaroids from that camera Tyce found in the Goodwill. He bought it with the little money he had and presented it to me like it was made of gold. Back then, it couldn't have been anymore precious, even if it was.

“Screw you, Tyce,” I said, heading to the shower and trying to wash the memories of that asswad from my head with vigorous scrubbing. Didn't work. How could I ever forget that face? Even if it was twisted up in a smirk? I knew all the things he'd been through and, despite what had happened this evening, I was so goddamn proud of him. That was why I'd come here, right? With my academic record, I could've gone to any number of schools on a scholarship. So why this one?

Because of Tyce.

I just hadn't expected to actually
see
him—today or any other. The U of O had over twenty-four thousand students, so the chances of (literally) running into Tyce like I had were slim to none. Still, I'd managed to do that quite nicely.

I climbed out of the shower and shut the water off, slipping on my pajamas and heading back into my bedroom and over to the balcony doors. Our neighbor, Jia,
hated
having people in her room. She didn't even let guys in there, so I figured I was safe. Despite the dozen or so parties I'd been privy to in my short time living here, I'd never seen anyone outside on the stone and metal porch that matched my own.

Of course, tonight was a night of firsts for me.

I should've known.

When I slid the doors open and slipped into the brisk bite of autumn air outside my room, I didn't think to look over into the shadows of Jia's balcony.

Instead, I moved forward and leaned my elbows against the white railing, gazing across the grassy courtyard outside my room. The music seemed even louder out here, echoing around the quiet apartment complex in beats and pulses. I closed my eyes and swayed with the sound, letting the movements of my body drown out the thoughts in my head.
Coincidence,
I told myself when Tyce popped up in my mind again.
Running into him was simple coincidence.

At the sound of giggling next door, I flicked my eyes open and glanced over to find a couple spilling out onto the porch, beer bottles in their hands and clothes already half off.
Holy crap,
I thought as I watched Jia tear off her bra and basically force some guy's hand onto her breast.

I probably should've taken off then, forgot all about the moment, but something about the man's body looked vaguely familiar to me. I squinted through the shadows and the pale glow of the orange lamps that dotted the complex's common areas.

In their kissing frenzy, the couple spun around and for a split second there I was greeted with the white round curve of Jia's ass—and a shimmer of bronze skin cupping it tight. My eyes slid up and found Tyce's face over her shoulder, his lips pressed to her neck as he kissed his way down the side of her throat.

I must've made some sort of sound in my own throat because his gaze snapped straight up to mine.

“Jesus Christ,” he cursed as he pulled back from Jia like she was on fire. In the darkness, Tyce's eyes were the color of the deep sea, ringed with that pale golden color that I'd never seen on another human being. Sometimes, I wondered if I imagined it, if I saw him as being more beautiful than he really was.

“What's wrong?” Jia asked, panting and glancing over her shoulder to find me standing there in a white wifebeater with no bra. Her painted gaze slipped up and down my form before she dismissed me just like that, like some plain Jane gawker. She probably thought I had a problem with voyeurism or something. “Forget her. She's just the girl next door.”

Something in that sentence flicked a switch in Tyce's face and I watched as his features shifted from surprise and confusion to … fear. Yeah, that's what that look was, like a man looking up at a tornado. He can't stop it, can't run from it, and he knows how twisty-turny this shit is going to get.

A minute passed, or maybe it was a second, but I was having a hard time figuring out how to handle this situation. Earlier today, I played it cool. Right now, I felt sick. Tyce's hand was still on Jia's ass, and I could still very clearly see her bare breasts pressed into his chest.

“Come find me when you're done gawking,” she snapped after a moment, shoving away from him and throwing her beer bottle off the edge of the balcony. It shattered into pieces on the cement below us. “Asshole,” Jia added as she threw the sliding glass door closed and locked it with a distinctive click.

Tyce blinked away his cobwebs and turned to grab the handle, cursing under his breath when it wouldn't budge. When he paused to look back at me, I was greeted once again with his shirtless form. At least his pants were still on. Thank God for small blessings.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice rough with confusion and sex. I thought about going inside and locking my own door, but I found myself rooted to the spot. Was he asking about Tea, the girl from his childhood? The one he'd run to when his foster mother had first hit him, backhanded him so hard across the mouth that when I found him, his chin was red with blood. “Or are you too cool to answer me, Mystery Girl?”

Tyce took a step closer to the edge of the railing, curling his tattooed fingers around the metal. The red rose on the back of his hand seemed to glow in the strange half-light. In response, I took a step back until I was pretty damn sure I was hidden in shadow.

“I live here,” I said in latent response to his question. “What's your excuse? You know Jia has a boyfriend, right?” Tyce laughed, the sound as close to warmth and home as I could get. I wasn't stupid. I knew in a way he was mocking me, but I couldn't help it. I'd grown up with that sound, and I wanted to wrap it around me and hold it close.

Well, I'd
wanted
to once upon a time. The way I felt towards Tyce now was strange, a dejected sense of
dangling,
like whatever connection we'd once shared was nearly severed. I let that sink in as I looked at him, watched him examine the small space between our balconies.

“What if I asked you to come over here and let me in?” he asked, but even with the shadows around us, I'm sure he could see the slight shrug of my shoulders. If Jia left him out there, he deserved it. “Guess not,” Tyce said, and then proceeded to climb up onto the edge of the railing.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stepping forward as he steadied himself in his Nikes, one hand on the wall, and let those blue-gold eyes of his calculate the distance between us. He was going to jump. I stared at the wall of muscle he made, his tattoos spilling across his chest and down his right arm. The black and gray sparrows on either one of his hips seemed to be daring me to stop him. “Look, I'll come over there, okay? Just climb down.”

But Tyce wasn't listening. Once he decided to do something, it just got done, come hell or high water.