The Playmaker (A Big Play Novel Book 1) (15 page)

#28:

A Little Black Dress

Colt

I drum my fingers on the railing as I look down into the atrium of the mall. I have no idea what Tori wants to try on in the shop behind me, but it’s certainly not her usual style. I spin to look at the storefront window again. The mannequins are decked out in skimpy skirts and tank tops that show off plastic torsos and too much leg. It’s hot, and I can totally picture Layla flouncing out of the house in something like that.

Poor Mack.

Since their dad died, Layla’s kind of gone off the rails. She’s taken slut to a whole new level, and guys know it. Trying to keep her safe is practically a full-time job for the guy, although it doesn’t stop him from having his fun. My stomach twists and roils as I picture Tori in his arms.

I didn’t want Layla seeing us today for so many reasons. The look on Tori’s face made me wonder if she thought I was embarrassed of her or something, but I know how catty those girls can be and I didn’t want them going after Tori. The cheerleaders can be kind of possessive of the Raiders, and they don’t like girls who don’t belong messing with the team. Although Tori is anything but a threat, they’ll still try to take her down. I’m surprised they haven’t tried at any of the bonfires yet, but those have been group situations. If they think I’m dating Tori, they’ll have something to say about it…and I don’t want her in their line of fire.

Man, she was cute confessing all her insecurities to me. I love how open her eyes are when she’s telling the unguarded truth. It’s like you can see right into her soul…and it’s beautiful.

“Hey, horse boy. Looking for something to wear to prom?”

My shoulders tense instantly at the sound of Quaid’s voice. I slowly spin to face him, my expression hopefully telling him to get lost.

He just smiles at me. That gross, smarmy one that makes me want to punch him.

My fingers curl into a fist, my arm trembling as he approaches.

I can’t get into a fight. Coach will kick me off the team.

Control yourself, man. Don’t let him get to you.

“How are the ribs feeling? I bet they’re looking pretty.” He smirks.

“About as pretty as your face, actually.” I smile—a cheesy, fake one that makes him snarl.

Quaid looks into the store, his keen eyes hunting out whoever I’m waiting for.

I step in front of him, blocking his view and willing Tori not to come out any time soon. I don’t want his leering gaze on her. She’s too pure for the likes of him.

“Keep walking.”

“It’s a free country, Burgess. I can stand where I want.”

My jaw locks, my glare growing stormy. “Walk away now and I won’t punch your face in.”

“You don’t have your boys to back you up today. You sure you want to be making that threat?”

I step forward, rising to my full height. I don’t have much on him, but Quaid’s a wimp without his uniform on—a big mouth with no real courage to back it up. “I don’t see your boys, either.”

He steps up to my threat and hisses at me, “You want to go?”

Yes! But I don’t want to get kicked off the team, so I step back and mutter, “You’re not worth it.”

“You sure about that?” he jeers, his dark eyes gleaming.

My nostrils flare and it’s taking everything in me not to launch at him. One of us has to walk away, but I don’t want him following me, so I stand my ground and will self-control to hold me steady.

“Quaid! Mom’s waiting, let’s go!”

Saved by a kid. I glance at Quaid’s little sister as she bounces on her toes, beckoning her brother with a slight look of worry.

“Go on.” I flick my head at her. “Mommy’s waiting.”

His upper lip curls and he fires me a seething glare before stalking off to join his sister.

As soon as he starts walking away, I spin into the store, feeling a weird sense of urgency. I wouldn’t put it past Quaid to check in with his mom and then call Derek, telling him to get his ass over to the mall.

“Tori,” I softly call. “Where are you?”

“Down here.” Her voice wafts from the changing rooms. I head toward them, expecting to linger outside while she tries whatever on. I don’t expect to see her standing in the passageway between the stalls in a dress that fits her to perfection and leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. I can see all of her legs; the skirt part only just covers the curve of her butt. The dress dips low at the back, showing off the smooth skin from the nape of her neck to halfway down her back. Oh man, she’s not wearing a bra right now. I blink, the air in my lungs feeling hot and suffocating. She’s holding her hair up with her hand and turning from side to side on her tiptoes like she’s picturing herself in heels. My throat constricts even further as my eyes study the way her muscles move as she swivels. She drops her bundle of curls and runs her hands down her thin waist and over her hips. My mouth pools with moisture.

I should be turning away right now, but I can’t.

And then she spins to face me and I get a taste of the front. The skirt part is strips of black, then sheer fabric, showing off even more of her stunning figure. Seriously, the dress is sinful and she should not look that hot in it.

“Uh… are you nearly ready to go?” I rub the back of my neck and force my gaze to the floor.

“Does this look okay?” Her sweet voice doesn’t match her appearance right now.

I glance up and run my eyes over her body. “Yeah. I’m not sure it’s really your style, but you know it’s…it’s okay.” I choke out the words like I’m swinging from a noose.

Her bright eyes narrow as she studies my expression and then her lips flash with a quick grin. “Okay, thanks.”

She disappears into the changing room and I release the breath I’ve been holding.

Holy crap!

My eyes bulge as I scrape my fingers through my hair and walk to the front of the store. All I can hope is that she doesn’t purchase that thing. I’m not sure I can handle seeing her in it again, particularly if I’m not the guy she’s wearing it to impress. Man, that was hot. Too hot.

I pace around the front of the store, waiting for Tori to get changed. My eyes keep darting to the front, checking for signs of Quaid. Thankfully, he hasn’t returned, but it doesn’t stop me from hustling Tori out of the shop the second she approaches me.

There’s a white paper bag swinging from her fingertips. I grimace. “You bought the dress?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why?” I jerk to look at her.

“Because you said it wasn’t my style, and maybe it’s time for me to start mixing it up a little.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I do if I want Mack’s attention,” she murmurs.

It’s like a blade through the stomach. She bought the dress so Mack would notice her? Does she have any idea the kinds of signals she’ll be sending in that thing?

It pisses me off that she’s willing to do that for him when he probably won’t appreciate it. Not the way it should be appreciated!

I grab her arm and pull her to a stop, gently swinging her around to face me. “You don’t want to become like Layla. I’m not coaching you so you can turn into a cheer girl. I’m trying to tell you how to get Mack’s attention by staying who you are.”

“No, you’re not. You’re the one who told me to wear fitted clothing, change up my style.”

“I meant drop the rainbow colors and tie-dye, not turn yourself into a slut!”

Her head jerks back in surprise. “You think I’m a slut?”

“No, that’s the whole point! I don’t want you to be! Which is why I never should have said yes to this. Mack isn’t a long-term guy. None of us are. What are you actually hoping to achieve by doing this? He’s not going to suddenly confess his love for you. He’ll probably make out with you, then ignore you the next day!”

Her face blanches white and she wriggles free of my grasp. “You don’t think I have what it takes to win him over? You don’t think I’m girlfriend material?”

“No.” I grimace and run a hand through my hair. “I just think you’re chasing the wrong guy. You’re not one of us, Tori…and it’s got nothing to do with how you look, or how much you know about football. No matter what you change on the outside, you’re still going to be you in here.” I point to her chest. “You’re too sweet and original, which is a good thing. I like that about you, but it doesn’t mean you fit. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I hope my explanation is good enough. I need her to see this for what it really is.

Her mouth works to the side for a second and she blinks a couple of times. “So you like that I’m different, but me being different means I can never be with you guys? I don’t fit, so you don’t want me?”

I don’t know why she’s personalizing it. We’re not talking about me right now, we’re talking about Mack, but if she’s ever going to understand this, I need to make it clear.

I let out a short sigh and softly agree with her. “Pretty much. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her eyes glaze over with a fine sheen. “Of course you don’t.” She swallows, her nose twitching. “Thanks for your honesty,” she murmurs before backing away from me.

“Where are you going?” I reach out for her, but she shakes her head and spins on her heel.

“I’ll find my own way home.”

“No, wait, Tori. I…” There’s no point shouting at her. She’s already started running. I should go after her. I should capture her against me and tell her I’m full of shit.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

I’m doing her a favor. Getting involved with Mack’s only going to break her heart, and telling her that I’m trying to end this thing out of selfish jealousy will only piss her off. I do want to protect her, but I can’t deny the low-lying truth that I’d rather see her alone than with one of my closest friends.

Yeah, it makes me scum, but I’m just gonna have to live with that.

#29:

Tiny At The Table

Tori

I don’t want to go to school on Friday, but I have to hand in my assignment. So I force my butt there and stay until after American History. I can’t even look at Colt as we turn in our essays.

When I asked him about the dress, I thought I saw a flash of desire in his gaze. I want to tell myself I’m wrong, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying to me. Why is he pushing me away if he’s actually attracted to me? I don’t get it.

As soon as the lunch bell rings, I fake a migraine and head home. I spend the weekend hanging out with Mom, making fall decorations, and taste-testing Dad’s multiple variations of pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving is still two months away, but Mom and Dad love to be prepared for their favorite holiday season.

For the record, I never want to smell or eat pumpkin again.

Monday comes around and I can’t get out of school again without raising serious questions, so I stick close to Amy. She’s really good about it, not questioning whatever the hell went down. I can’t talk about it, not even with Amy, which means it’s hurting more than I’m willing to admit.

I don’t belong with Colt.

He made that abundantly clear.

And maybe he’s right. I can’t change who I am, and who I am isn’t good enough for him or his crowd of cool kids. So I now have to accept that my senior year at Nelson High will be exactly the same as the previous three and in June, I’ll be waving my best friend good-bye and facing an unknown future that freaking terrifies me.

I survive Tuesday, avoiding Colt’s eye whenever I pass him and hanging out with Amy any chance I can get. I think she’s quite happy that things have returned to normal, but as I’m lining up in the cafeteria on Wednesday, I get a text from her.

I’m sorry. I’m puking my guts out. Mom’s just come to pick me up. Call me when you get home from school, okay?

My throat constricts as I scan the cafeteria for my lunchtime companion options. There’s Jade, but she’s locked in on Brendan and I don’t want to be a third wheel. There’s room at Emily’s table, but her nose is in a book so sitting with her will pretty much be like sitting by myself. George from math glances at me hopefully and I shudder. As nice as he is, I can’t handle the thought of sitting with him and listening to his latest theories on alien abductions. It’s all he ever talks about. Great, so the best option is sitting with Emily. It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened, but in my fragile state, it feels huge. I sniff and send Amy a quick message filled with get-wells and promises to call.

Slipping my phone into my back pocket, I wonder if I should retreat to the library. Who needs to eat, right? I glance behind me. There’s already a line of students holding trays and shuffling forward one step at a time. It’ll be way too obvious if I pull out of the line now. My tray’s already half full of food.

I force my reluctant legs forward. My hands are shaking just a little as I pay. Gripping the tray, I turn and scan the massive space for an empty seat. It’s weird that I’ve been going to this school for over three years and the cafeteria can still feel like a mighty, heartless ocean that will swallow me whole with one big surge.

I shuffle to the right and notice there’s a free seat at Anderson Foster’s table. Thank God! Anderson’s friends with Amy… well, sort of. They’re more like rivals, but they act like friends because they like to keep tabs on what the other is up to. They’re on the debate team together and share all the same advanced classes. I head for the table, but then one of Anderson’s intellectual crew takes the spot at the end and I’m forced to stop in my tracks to reassess.

“Hey, Pixie Girl. You look kinda lost.” I glance up, like way up, at Finn. He’s smiling down at me with all the confidence of a super model. “Amy not here today?”

I shake my head.

“Come sit with us.” He tips his head at the football table.

Shock jolts through me and I start shaking my head with more vigor. “No, that’s okay. I…”

“Come on.”

“You guys don’t want me—”

“Yeah, we do.” He winks, grabbing my elbow and pulling me toward his table. He lowers his tray onto the pitted surface before grabbing mine and setting it down beside his. Tyler looks up from his mountain of food and gives me a strange look as I shakily take my seat.

The girls down at the end notice me. Their beautiful faces crinkle in unison, and Roxanne gives me a sharp glare that makes me want to hide beneath the table.

All I can do is smile at them. Tyler snickers and shakes his head, then continues chowing into his food. The size of his mouthfuls are so huge, I can’t help making a face.

Finn laughs at me, then picks up his burger and carves out a mammoth bite. It’ll be gone in like three. How do they do that? I tip my head in wonder, but am distracted by someone sitting down beside me and nudging me with his elbow.

“Hey, Pix. Missed you at the game on Friday.” Mack grins, raising his chin at two more players as they take a seat down by the girls.

I’m feeling really tiny right now.

I turn my attention back to Mack, hoping one focal point will make me feel a touch less nervous. “Yeah, I couldn’t make it. Heard you guys won, though. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. It was a tough win, but we did it. Could have used a little Trigger on the field, but he’ll be back this week, so it’s all good.”

“He better be on point,” Tyler pipes up. “The Vikings are never an easy win, plus it’s an away game.”

“He’ll be good.” Finn brushes off his fingers and picks up a banana. “The guy’s been working like a demon this week.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?”

“Dunno.” Finn’s dark eyes land on me, his lips rising with a cryptic smile.

I frown and start picking at my potato salad.

“You gonna come?” Mack nudges me.

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I guess it depends how far away the game is.”

“It’s just over in Trentham. We’ll still have the bonfire in our usual spot after.”

“Oh. Well, maybe I will.” I force a smile.

“Thatta girl. You’re coming on Saturday too, right?” Mack takes a bite of his burger and talks around his food. “There’s a big party over in North Point. Everyone’s going to be there. Roxy’s cousin is hosting and his parents are away so it’s gonna be lit!”

Tyler and Mack pound fists and laugh while I swallow down my heart and try to hide how terrifying that sounds.

I’ve never been much of a partygoer. I mean, I like to have fun with Amy and stuff, but unsupervised craziness sounds way out of my league.

Even so, I wonder if Colt’s going to be there.

Mack and Tyler’s conversation quickly turns to football and I’m actually able to contribute to the conversation. Yes, I watched the Monday night game because I was missing Colt and the idea of watching it at the same time as him made me feel kind of warm and fuzzy.

I know I’m pathetic; just let me have my moment, okay?

I actually ended up enjoying the game and understanding nearly half of what was going on, so when Mack starts talking about the quarterback’s perfect spiral to the wide receiver, I perk up and say, “I thought Boyd was going to snap his leg when he landed in the end zone. That flip over Masterson was fearless.”

Tyler’s jaw goes slack for a second while Mack starts chuckling beside me.

“Pixie Girl watched the game.” His deep laugh echoes across the table as he wraps his arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze before launching into more details of the game. My face lights with a smile as the stories start to flow and I’m actually able to keep up.

Maybe sitting at the football table doesn’t have to be as terrifying as I thought.