The Game That Breaks Us (21 page)

“And I have a car right over there that I can drive you back to campus in.”

She glares at me, and I swear there’s a fire in her eyes. “Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want you to drive me back?” She laughs humorlessly. “Oh, wait, you think the sun rises and falls because you breathe. Right, I forgot,” she mutters and starts walking again.

“Grace,” I plead.

She whips around. “
What?
” she yells. “What do you want? Tell me, Bennett, because I’m incredibly confused.” She holds her arms out at her sides. “You’re the one that kissed
me
, remember? And don’t play dumb, I know that’s why you came up with that stupid kiss a stranger thing. That was a dick move.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m your fake girlfriend, Bennett. I
get
it, so you don’t have to keep reminding me. Can we move on now?”

My teeth smash together and I scrub my hands down my face. “Jesus Christ, Grace, this isn’t about you, it’s about me.”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course it is. Everything’s about you, Bennett.”

“You don’t understand,” I tell her. 

“Then make me understand!” she yells.

“I don’t understand it myself, so how can I possibly explain it to you?” I counter.

She shakes her head. “You’re ridiculous. Give me my phone back. I’m calling a cab.”

“No,” I say firmly.

“
Why?
” she snaps.

“Because I care about you, and I’m not letting you stand out here alone to get in a cab with some stranger.”

She snorts. “Oh, so I can’t get in a car with a stranger but I can kiss them? You sure make a lot sense.”

“Fuck,” I curse. “Just get in the car, Grace.”

“
No
.”

“You leave me no choice then.”

“Wh—”

She starts to speak but I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. 

“Bennett!” She beats my back. “Put me down.”

“I’ll put you down in a minute.”

“Ugh, I hate you.” She slaps my ass like that’ll get me to drop her or something. 

“Keep lodging your insults, Princess, they just bounce off of me.”

I unlock my car and open the passenger door, dropping her inside. She immediately tries to push past me and out of the car. I grab her by the shoulder and give a gentle push back. 

“Grace,” I say, “I know you’re pissed, but I also know you’re a smart girl and the safest alternative is to let me take you back to the dorm.”

She groans but stops fighting me and sits back in the seat.

I take her silence as her defeat.

“I’m glad you could see things my way.” I start to close the door.

“Watch yourself,” she warns. “I’m
this
close to slapping you again.” She holds up her thumb and forefinger a tiny bit apart. 

I chuckle and shake my head. “Try it, Princess. I’ll be expecting it from now on.”

She harrumphs and crosses her arms over her chest. I close the door and jog around to get in the driver’s side. 

She doesn’t speak to me on the drive back to campus, but I didn’t expect her to.

I park as close to her dorm as I can get and let her out. She doesn’t look at me or say goodbye as she gets out.

I watch her walk away and just before she disappears, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

And I am. She doesn’t know how much I wish things were different. That
I
was different. That I could be the guy she deserves. 

Bennett and I sink back into an easy rhythm. We forget that our kisses happened and completely ignore what transpired at the bar. I continue to play the part of the perfect girlfriend and he’s still …
Bennett
. Thanksgiving came, and I headed home
alone
despite the fact that my parents requested Bennett join me. I didn’t want to deal with that drama so I didn’t tell Bennett they asked. I told my brothers the real deal between Bennett and me and they promised to help me out with my dad.

Classes are back in session now for a few weeks before Christmas break. In other words, it’s time for finals. Shoot me.

I knock on his door and hear shuffling so I know he’s there. The door opens a moment later and I push myself inside armed with loads of shopping bags.

I drop them on the bed and turn to him. “Try them on,” I demand. “And here’s your credit card.”

He eyes the stack on the bed and then looks at the card. “Fuck, did you catch the thing on fire with how many times you swiped it?”

I sigh. “I know you can afford it. Besides, I got a lot of things on sale. Just because my family is rich doesn’t mean I don’t know how to bargain shop.”

He shakes his head and picks up a bag, pulling out a pair of khaki pants. “I’m going to look like a prep.”

I stick my hands on my hips. “No, you’ll look like a
man
. You know, like someone that has their shit together.”

He chuckles. “Touché.” He pulls the rest of the items from the bag and holds up a maroon-colored sweater. “This looks like I’m going to play polo.”

I snort. “I’m pretty sure they don’t wear
sweaters
to play polo.”

He shrugs. “Still …” He lays more items out on the bed. “I like that.” He points at a brown leather jacket.

“Stop looking at the stuff and try it on,” I demand. I’m eager to see Bennett in something other than jeans and a t-shirt. He has a killer body and he’s hot, but he usually dresses like a bum. 

“You want me to drop my drawers right here, right now, Princess?”

“Yes,” I say, my impatience growing.

“I’m not wearing underwear,” he says with an impish smile.

I don’t believe him so I call his bluff. “I’ve already seen everything,” I remind him, my mind briefly flashing back to that morning in his apartment.

He chuckles. “True. I forgot you like to look at my cock.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

His smile only grows. “Sit back and enjoy the show, Princess.”

I shake my head and move around him and rummage through the bags. “Try this first.” I thrust a pair of
nice
denim jeans at him and a button-down shirt. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He takes them from me and drapes both across the back of his desk chair. He smirks at me as he grabs the bottom of his shirt and crisscrosses his arms as he lifts the shirt up. He does it slow, purposely teasing me, and my breath catches at the sight of the reddish-blond hair trailing from beneath his belly button and disappearing into his jeans. He chuckles, having heard the small sound I made. I wish I could take it back so he didn’t hear it and know that he affects me. We’ve been doing better since that night at the bar, and I don’t want to ruin this easiness between us. I hate to admit it, but Bennett’s become my friend, and I don’t want to jeopardize that. 

He removes his shirt completely and drops it on the floor, and I can’t help it: I stare at his chiseled chest and muscular arms. Bennett is a big guy, but he’s still on the leaner side, and I like that about him. He doesn’t look like one of those gross body builders. He’s just the right amount of muscled.

I slowly raise my eyes to his, and I expect to find amusement there but instead I’m shocked to see lust. I stumble a step back, breaking our eye contact.

“You should … uh … try that on,” I stutter.

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he proceeds to undo his belt and drop his jeans. And surprise, surprise, he
is
wearing underwear. I knew it.

Bennett grabs the new jeans and puts them on. They fit him so much better than the ones he normally wears, and when he turns with his back to me to put the shirt on I nearly groan at how good his ass looks in them. People are going to be looking at him even more than they usually do.

Bennett buttons the shirt and tucks it into his jeans. 

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“You look hot,” I tell him honestly.

“I don’t look like I work at a bank?” he asks.

I laugh and shake my head. “Definitely not.”

He walks into his small attached bathroom and looks in the mirror. “Hey, I actually like this,” he calls out. “You’re good at this,” he comments, stepping back out and unbuttoning the shirt.

“Thanks.” I sort through the bags and set aside the next outfit for him to try.

This time, he wears a pair of tan-colored pants and a gray sweater. “I look like a grandpa,” he comments, suppressing a laugh.

“
I
like it.”

He grins. “This is what turns you on, Wentworth? Men in sweaters?”

I shrug. “No, men with
style
.”

“Ah—” he nods “—and I have none?”

“I don’t think what you normally wear can be considered a style.” I laugh and point to the next outfit I want him to try. It’s a navy suit with a purple shirt and a gray tie. “You need suits for interviews, right?” I ask him.

He nods. “Yeah, that’s a nice one.”

“It cost a lot,” I admit. “But I figured it was a good investment.”

He sighs and a dark look flashes over his eyes. “If I ever get to play again.”

“You
will
get to play again,” I tell him.

He gives me a sad look. “We’re days away from December. Matthews is getting exactly what he wants.”

“Whatever happened with the steroids thing?” I ask. He never told me anything more, and I didn’t want to ask because I hate how sad he looks when he talks about his team and asshole coach.

“Coach Harrison had me do a drug test, which of course came back negative. The league had me do one too, also negative—so, thank God Matthews wasn’t able to tamper with it. But Matthews is still keeping me benched. So that’s why I’m still here. Coach Matthews won’t let me even practice with the team, and at least Harrison lets me train with the college team.” Bennett lets out a long-winded sigh. 

“Can’t the guys on your team do anything to help you?”

He sighs again. “No one goes against Matthews,
ever
.”

I frown as he changes into a different pair of pants. “Why is Matthews so great?”

Bennett buttons his pants and zips them, holding out his hand for me to hand him a shirt. I hand him a navy sweater. “He was a hell of a player back in the day. One of the greats. He’s someone a lot of people admire, and when he started coaching, everyone was vying to be on his team.” He shakes his head and he looks pissed. “He’s not what he seems, though. He’s a liar and a cheat.”

“You admired him? Before? Didn’t you?” I question.

Bennett winces. “Yeah, I did,” he admits. 

“What did he do?” 

Bennett shakes his head. “The less you know the better.”

“Did he kill someone?”

Bennett snorts. “Princess, I’m really beginning to worry about your obsession with killing, but no, it’s not that.”

“Then what?” I plead. “You can tell me. It’s not like I’m going to spill the beans to someone.”

Bennett sighs and begins taking off his clothes. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Did it have to do with steroids?” I ask. 

He freezes in the process of taking the sweater off so I can’t see his face. He lowers his arms again and the shirt falls. “What makes you say that?”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” I grin. “That’s why he made that drug test look like
you
were doing steroids.”

Bennett’s lips pinch and he pulls out his desk chair, taking a seat. He claps his hands together and looks at me seriously. “You can’t tell anyone, Grace. I mean it.”

“Yes!” I do a little dance. “I was right!”

“Stop it,” Bennett scolds but his tone is light. 

I cease my dance and mime zipping my lips. I sit on the edge of his bed and lean toward him. “So,” I begin, “you saw your coach doing steroids? Big deal—he’s the coach, not a player, so I don’t see where that’s an issue.”

Bennett shakes his head and lays his hands on his knees, spreading out his long fingers. “No, Grace, I saw the coach
giving
a player steroids—not just any player, our Captain.”

I gape at him. “That
is
a big deal.”

“Exactly.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and leans back in the chair so far that I’m afraid it’s going to topple over. He moves forward and the legs come crashing back down against the linoleum floor. “I got injured shortly after that so I couldn’t play and he wasn’t worried about me. Then, I think he hoped I wouldn’t get well enough to play again, now that I’ve proven him wrong, he’s stuck grasping at any fucking straws he can get his hands on to keep me off the team.”