Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance (23 page)

“Will do. Don't miss me too much now, you hear?” Tabitha waved at me, slamming the door shut.

As Tabitha's cab drove off, I headed up to my apartment. I was on good terms with both Ace and Tabitha again. Everything felt right with the world. I was in such a good mood I'd nearly forgotten about the whole Whitaker fiasco. So when that squeezed right back into my thoughts, it suddenly felt like I had a ball and chain strapped around my ankles.

As I stepped out of the elevator, the floors were quaking with the metallic beats blasting out of my apartment. I'd never been so grateful to hear Diplo in my life. I walked up to my apartment and unlocked the door.

“You've got that on a little loud, don't you think?”

Aiden glanced over at me from the dance floor he created on the living room, but he carried on. He jerked his shoulders and bopped his legs to the spastic beat, his body one with the music. I hung up my purse and kicked off my shoes, nodding to the catchy tune.

Aiden kicked out one leg and glided across the floor, rolling out a smooth wave from his hips to his leg. I tilted my head in awe. Fascinated, I leaned against the kitchen counter, my lips jutted out and turned down, observing him.

But as soon as the bridge of the song came on, a grunting Aiden came to a stop.

“You were doing great.” I approached him cautiously. “What's wrong?”

“I've been trying to figure out what to do with the bridge for days,” said Aiden, punting his bag aside. “Everything I come up with just seems lame.”

“Mind if I try something?”

Aiden fell back on the couch.

“Go ahead.”

I rewound the song and walked up to the empty square in the living room. As I waited for the bridge to come on, I counted myself off in my head. I closed my eyes, listening to the lyrics as I allowed the music take control of me.

“
Say my name, I wanna hear you call,

Hold me close, I wanna feel your heart,

I'm in a cold sweat and I want you bad,

Now you got me all in my head, like damn.
”

I sprang up from the floor, my eyes fluttering open.

“Never discount the lyrics. It's a slow buildup to the chorus. Your technique is flawless, but don't afraid to be vulnerable. Of course, that's just me –”

“I like it.” Aiden got up and rewound the track once more. “Will you show me?”

“My pleasure.” I pointed to the spot next to me. “Come on.”

When the bridge came up again, Aiden echoed each sequence to a T. Yeah, what I'd come up with on the spot was pretty easy, but his ability to pick things up and his shrewd attention to detail was insane. It was like he wasn't even trying.

“Hold on. Instead of this – ”

Aiden spread his arms and crouched down, crossing them over his chest.

“How's this?”

Aiden clutched his head and threw his head back, jerking it twice. My jaw started to slack. He did a soft tumble over the floor, landing gracefully on one knee. Then, his arms stretched forth, forming a bird's wings with his hands. He flapped his hands and pushed them over his heart, the wave flowing through his arms and back to his chest so swift, but so gentle all at once.

“That was beautiful.”

Aiden got up from the floor and paused the song on his phone.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. He looked down at his feet, pink slowly creeping across his cheeks.

“So.” I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to him. “You signing up for a talent show at school, or...?”

“No. I'm graduating in a couple of months. Dad wants me to take over the restaurant – there's no way my father's going to pay for college for me. Which is understandable, I guess. There's this dance competition – winner gets a $10,000 scholarship to Julliard.”

Aiden feigned a cough, his shoulders squaring.

“I mean, I'm not delusional, I know what the talent's like out there, I just thought I'd give it a shot –”

“It's not delusional at all,” I cut him off sternly. “Believe me – the judges are going to be the ones feeling privileged when they see you up there. But one thing's for sure – that's not the kind of attitude that's gonna win you that scholarship.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So, is this why you didn't show up to the studio today?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Aiden reached for the towel behind him and hung it around his shoulders. “I meant to leave you a note, but I guess it slipped my mind. Won't happen again.”

“Make sure it doesn't. I got real worried there for a minute. Just text me next time if you need some time off for class. I mean, you're staying here at the moment, so you are my responsibility.”

“My father cut off my phone line, but I'll let you know in advance next time.” Aiden straightened up in his seat, looking at me seriously. “Right, and about that. I realized I've never really thanked you for taking me in – I'm still looking for a part-time job so I can find some way to repay you for all the rent and food –”

“Forget about it.” I raised a hand, stopping him. “I'm happy to help, I really am. For now, why don't you just focus on finishing up the rest of the semester, and I'll take care of the rest. But listen, Aiden, whatever trouble you're in – you gotta let me in on it, or I won't be able to help you. What happened?”

Aiden turned restless, shifting in his seat.

“Well, uh, my father kicked me out of the house. Said I was on my own.”

“And what led up to that?” I turned towards him, encouraging his gaze. “Or did this just come out of nowhere?”

“Came home after school one day.” Aiden's voice was emotionless, but his jaw was clenched tightly. “Dad had been looking through my computer history, and had a transcript of all the incoming and outgoing text messages from my phone.”

I kept my eye contact steady, waiting for him to continue.

“Uh.” Aiden scooched further away from me, dropping his gaze. “Let's just say he was disappointed I wasn't interested in carrying on the family name. Not biologically, anyway. Only son and all that.”

“I see.” That was all I said, but I understood immediately. “How long have you known?”

“What, that I'm gay?” Aiden chuckled hoarsely. His eyebrows flicked upwards as the words left his lips, as if it were the first time he'd ever heard it out loud. “I dunno. Guess I've always known, really. I never liked hanging out with the girls on the playground, even when the hormones kicked in... Yeah, it didn't take too long to figure that out. Never had a girl around – or anyone, really – I think Dad's always suspected, and I guess when he finally had proof... well, you know.”

“And what about the bruises?”

“Dad's version of tough love. I dunno,” said Aiden apathetically, but I could see the strain in his smile. “But really, it's whatever. I've always been well-fed, I'm about to graduate from one of the top private schools in the country. People have it much worse.”

I didn't know what to say. Aiden jerked his head away from me, but I could see the glister he was trying to blink out of his eyes. My arms were aching to reach over and hug him, but I just kept my hands on my lap.

“You're a good kid, Aiden. I see where you're coming from, but –”

“No,” said Aiden in a small voice. “I'm a fucking pussy.”

“What are you –”

“There's something I need to show you.” Aiden unplugged his phone from the charger. He flipped his phone over and over again in his hands, bouncing his leg. “Look. I think – no, I know I've got something. I just couldn't show this to anyone else.”

“What is it?”

“I thought the restaurant was empty – my father wasn't there, and I had this guy over. Well, my father showed up, and we were trying to sneak out through the back door, but long story short, we ended up hiding out in the Iron Bamboo room – it's one of our private dining rooms. And we weren't alone.”

His shoulders shuddering, Aiden unlocked his phone and pulled up a video file. I leaned over, narrowing my eyes at the screen. The shot was unstable and hazy, as if the person recording it didn't want to be found. Finally, the camera was set on the floor, capturing half of the table and the figure seated on the far end. I gasped.

It was Daymond.

“
– cool your damn jets. You're stressing me out. All the I's are dotted, all the Ts crossed – everything's covered. My man works for Warner's cousin, Vinny's shop. He called me last night to give me the OK – distracted Vinny and took care of the seatbelt. When this all blows over, guess who they'll be looking at first?”

When the second voice interjected, I thought I was going to be sick. I dug my nails into my knees, watching in disbelief. The man's face was never shown, but I knew who it was right away.

“
But what if one of the other guys decides to ride shotgun that day?”

“Relax. With Whitaker's size, you really think they're gonna let him sit up in the back with them? And I mean, if Warner takes the seat, all the better.”

“I don't know about this – what happens if we get –
”

“Then we lawyer up – with your old man's money, what we gotta worry about? I mean, it's not like a football player ain't ever got away with it before –”

The shot jerked once, and the clip ended.

“I didn't get the other guy's face. I didn't know how to tell you this – I mean, I didn't know how you'd react – you guys were dating, after all. But it was –”

“Xavier.”

“Yeah, it – wait, Ms. C, what are you doing?”

I staggered over to my purse, fished out my phone, and slammed it against my ear.

“Come on. Pick up, pick up, pick up...”

Chapter Eleven:
Ace

2016

“Warner!” Coach barked from behind me. “What are you doing here so early?”

I turned around to face him, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Coach strolled over to me, his chest puffed out and his hands locked behind his back. I looked straight at him, doing everything I could to ignore the weirdly large nipples poking out of his shirt.

“Left my phone here yesterday – thought I'd come by a little earlier and get some breakfast while I'm at it.”

Coach stayed quiet, the dark triangle of hair over his upper lip twitching as he eyed me up and down.

“That run at that Steelers game was perhaps one of the most impulsive and reckless plays I've seen in a long, long time.”

“I'm sorry, Coach, I –”

“But it was spectacular to watch, and ultimately, it did pay off,” Coach finished gruffly. “I'm not saying luck had anything to do with it, but if you ever try anything that reckless again without running it by me first –”

“It won't happen again, Coach.” I breathed out sharply. “Listen, Coach, about what they're saying about me –”

“I don't involve myself in hearsay,” Coach answered simply. He turned away from me. “I reserve judgment until evidence is presented. I'll see you at practice. Keep up the good work.”

“Right. Later, Coach.”

I headed off in the opposite direction and started towards the locker room. Walking through the swinging door was like entering a sauna. Thick clouds of steam billowed out from the showers and into the locker area. And when I heard the sound of a strange woman's giggling moan, my eyebrows perked with my ears.

Nonetheless, it was none of my business, so I did my own thing. I walked up to my locker and pulled out my phone from the top shelf. But as I clicked on the home button, my screen stayed blank.

“Damn.”

I took out my charger from the bag and found a socket next to Baldwin's locker. Stooping down to one leg, I plugged my phone in. A flashing battery appeared on the screen, and my phone started up on its own.

“Stop, Daymond, you're so bad!”

Daymond and a ginger chick with sloppy-huge cans strutted out of the showers, buck-naked and dripping onto the carpet.

“Yo, Warner.” Armstrong slapped the chick across her titties, showing off their jiggling capabilities. “Wanna join us?”

My cock stirred as the chick started tracing the butterfly tattoo on her inner thigh with her fingers.

“Nah, I'm alright.”

“Psh.” Armstrong grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Suit yourself, fag.”

“Says the dude with his dick out.” I smirked, turning away from them. “You kids play safe.”

As Armstrong led the chick back to the showers, I reached for my phone and punched in my password. Instead of my Scarface wallpaper, 3 notification windows flooded my screen. 12 missed calls. 10 new text messages. 3 new voicemails. All from Brooklyn.

I scrolled through the messages. While my eyes darted back and forth through the walls of text, I could hear the chick's gagging and Armstrong's loud and vulgar moans in the background. It felt like someone had their foot down on my chest, squeezing the air out of me.