The Safe Bet (The Game Changers #3) (8 page)

Chapter Twelve

November 2002

Ivy and Neal became closer while Brock and I pulled further apart. It frightened me to think we had ruined everything, that we’d never be the same. I couldn’t even pinpoint the moment that it all went sour. Even though things weren’t the way I had hoped, I constantly thought of him. Every book character I read was Brock. Every paper I wrote had an element of negativity that made every sentence a little pessimistic and dark. By the end of sophomore year, I was confused, lonely, and desperate to feel anything else but hurt.

The opportunity to fix things with Brock presented itself when Ivy and Neal decided we were all moving to apartments. I would still be living with Ivy. Neal and Brock would still live together, but we would all be in the same building. Part of me dreaded watching him parade his girls through our shared building, but I was still attempting to appear unfazed by his shenanigans and saw this as a chance to get close to him again.

The boys helped us move in when we promised to pay them in beer and pizza, as if it even took that to convince them to lift heavy furniture for us poor, helpless females, but it didn’t go as I expected. Brock and I had next to no interaction. He did his part to set up our apartment, then bolted out of there like his pants were on fire. I was left with Ivy and Neal, rearranging the couch seventeen times until Ivy was happy with its placement. Neal didn’t argue once and did whatever he could to make Ivy happy. I was officially the third wheel moving into my own apartment. The whole day was one huge disappointment considering how excited we were to be moving there.

After that first night, I hardly saw Ivy. She spent even less time in the apartment than she did the dorm. If she wasn’t studying, she was with Neal. When she was there, she was lost in her own head, much like I was. I kept wondering why we bothered living together if we were hardly going to speak. My mom was calling twice a day because she was worried about me. My grades were fine, but I didn’t do anything other than study and work my part-time job filing in the admissions office. There was nothing more mindless than filing papers in the admissions office. My life was depressing.

It occurred to me later that Ivy must have felt similar, maybe even worse, but we never spoke about it. It wasn’t odd for me to come home from class to find her sitting alone in the dark. No television. No lights. Nothing. She once claimed she was sleeping, but no one sleeps sitting up like that. It was weird, like everything else.

“You okay, Ivy?” I asked.

“Yeah, just worn out from Neal. Ugh, he can’t get enough of me.” She always said something along these lines, knowing I wouldn’t ask for more information.

“Right…” I didn’t need that picture. “What’s up with sitting in the dark?”

“I don’t know. It’s peaceful.” And wait for it… “You going to come out with us tonight? Get all dolled up, so Brock doesn’t know what hit him?” There it is. The abrupt change of subject to Brock.

“No. If he wanted to hang out, we would.”

“You’re so blind.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s waiting on you. You’re waiting on him. All you two are ever going to do is wait on each other because neither of you has the balls to do anything about it.”

“Not true.”

“Isn’t it?” she added sarcastically as she poured a bowl of cereal. I stood there frozen for a second, annoyed with Ivy, then myself for even acknowledging this line of thinking.

“Shut up,” I said and escaped to the safety and loneliness of my room.

Eventually I decided I was tired of feeling like crap and being alone all the time. The one person who used to always make me laugh lived right upstairs, and I was done pushing him away.

So, what was I to do? I had to distract him from his blondes while ensuring I didn’t seem as if I was throwing myself at him. I had my pride to think about, after all. I came up with a plan, and it involved pizza and chocolate cupcakes.

I “accidentally” gave the pizza place the wrong apartment number. Mine was 212, and his was 312, honest mistake. Since he and I both liked the same kind of pizza, I knew that was all it would take for him to personally escort that pizza to my apartment, where the chocolate cupcakes were lined up on the counter cooling while I mixed the icing. I had him hook, line, and sinker.

“Trying to master baking again, Rea?” he asked as he set the box down on the table.

It had taken me four boxes to get twelve delicious looking cupcakes. I went through three dozen eggs because I dropped a dozen on the stairs and screwed up so many cupcakes.

“I think I have it this time.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I swear it,” I told him. “You can be the judge.”

“Hmm…official taste tester of your baking,” he thought aloud as he poked at a cupcake. “It’s a dangerous job, but someone has to do it.”

And just like that I had him for the night. He pulled out plates and served each of us pizza before he helped me ice and eat six cupcakes. The other six met their demise in the trashcan. I wasn’t one to throw out perfectly good cake because of aesthetics, but when it tasted like chalk, it had to go. I wasn’t even sure how that happened.

As much as I hated to admit it, Ivy was right about Brock wanting me back in his life. He seemed happy that things had gone back to normal. After the pizza guy offered the proverbial olive branch, he started showing up at my apartment every time Ivy was in his. Suddenly it was high school all over again. We still never discussed anything about the past, but I was so happy with the present that I didn’t feel the need to acknowledge anything before it.

Everything was good, good, good. The whole tit for tat dating thing stopped, but only because we were always together. By Halloween we were in each other’s bed again. By Thanksgiving it was every night, and by Christmas I decided it was time to confess how I felt about him. That made me a nervous wreck, but I swore to myself I would tell him before something else could happen that made me want to push him away again.

I gave myself a deadline to prepare my brain and my heart. The day before we went home for the holidays was the big day. Daddy issues be damned, the words would come out of my mouth come hell or high water. I was in love with Brock Anderson. He was it for me, no doubt. Any thoughts I had about young love had been eradicated by time spent with him, in and out of bed, and I told myself it was okay.

I needed a friend to back me up and wanted to talk to Ivy. I could imagine how she’d say, “Finally!” with exasperation, and it would be the push necessary to go through with it. I usually wasn’t interested in girl talk before I did something, but I had never cared this much about anything before. As much as I hated it, the extra boost of confidence only a friend could provide would have been really helpful. Unfortunately, she wasn’t around or with Neal. He came by looking for her. When I told him I hadn’t seen her, he started to leave, then stopped abruptly. Slowly turning toward me, I noticed how hopeless he looked. His eyes were wide and watery, maybe even a little fearful, “You know I love her, right? If she’d go for it, I’d marry her today.”

“Wow,” I said as I processed his words. What would I give for Brock to feel that way about me? “I get it. Have you told her?”

He plopped on the couch and dropped his forehead to his hands. “Yeah. Every way I know how. She tells me she loves me too, but she isn’t sure about commitment. I understand though.” He looked up and stared at the wall. “Her parents are never around. No one has ever been there for her. You and Brock…well, you know. If she gave us a shot, we’d be great, but she won’t. I’m not sure what to do.”

“Whoa. Okay.” I paused to collect my thoughts, but Neal was looking at me like I had all the answers. Didn’t he know I was just as lost as everyone else? I couldn’t figure out my own life, let alone Ivy’s. “I don’t completely understand what Brock and I have to do with anything, but Ivy has her own stuff.” None of us even knew the extent of Ivy’s “stuff,” but she dropped plenty of hints when she was feeling dramatic or depressed. “We all do. You know I’ve been friends with her for ten years and never met her mom and dad? I know her brother but not her parents. She’s had more new cars than anybody I’ve ever known. That huge house she grew up in was often empty. Ivy needs someone to love her, so don’t doubt you’re doing the right thing. All she needs is someone who’s so in love with her that they never give up on her.” That seemed like the right thing to say. I wasn’t really one for giving advice, but telling someone to show a little love seemed like a slam-dunk.

I might have been wrong. When Neal said, “I hope you’re right, Reagan. And maybe you should find a way to take your own advice,” then stood and walked out, I questioned my ability to give even the simplest suggestion. It was the most bizarre encounter and left me feeling uneasy.

Hell or high water, though, remember?

Brock showed up at my apartment shortly after Neal left. His hair was wet from showering after the gym. Something about the wet hair, the jeans that hung from his hips, and fitted t-shirt made me lose my mind. The second he walked in the door I was on him. He caught me when I threw myself at him and lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist.

“Rea,” he breathed.

“I need you,” I told him.

He took my mouth. It wasn’t just a kiss. He took control of my lips, my tongue, my body. Brock had this way about him. He could be so quiet but so commanding at the same time. When he was passionate about something, there was no stopping him. This time, it was me he wanted.

I was thankful it was dark because after we devoured each other, I found I was embarrassed by my rash behavior. Little did I know my actions was the beginning of the end.

Brock was lost in thought as well. His fingertips ran up and down my back as I lay across his chest. We were in my bed, but the door to my room was wide open. It wasn’t like I gave him time to close it.

“What was that all about, Rea?” I sat up to move away, but he stopped me. When I looked into his brown eyes, I liked what I saw. There was sincerity there and maybe even a little love and adoration. He grabbed my hand to bring my attention back to the question. “Not that I’m complaining, but I know you. Something’s up.”

“Brock, I—” I froze. The words refused to come.

“What, babe?”

“I need to say something, but I need you to not interrupt me ‘til I’m finished.”

He leaned up on his elbows and raised his eyebrows. “Okay…”

“I’ve been thinking.” I glanced up to my ceiling and let out a deep breath. I decided I couldn’t stay lying across him like I was and moved away, covering my chest with the sheet. “That’s not true. I’ve known this forever.”

I felt sick to my stomach. How was it that I still didn’t have the right words? How do you tell your best friend that everything you thought about love was wrong because he showed you what it could be like? How do you tell him that being friends with benefits wasn’t enough anymore? I decided it didn’t matter if what I said was perfect. I needed him to know how I felt.

“Brock, I’m—” The opening and slamming of my apartment door interrupted me.

“Reagan!” Neal yelled my name and repeated it as he came closer to my open door. Brock sat up to cover me, but it was too late. Neal was standing at my door. By the look on his face, he wasn’t registering the fact that I was naked. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Where is she?” He was out of control.

I flinched when his voice rose again, then pleaded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Finally, Brock intervened, “Man, we’ve been here the whole time, and she hasn’t been home.”

“You guys don’t fucking know! You have no clue!” he shouted at us.

Brock climbed out of bed and pulled on his jeans. He walked his friend to the living room, giving me a chance to throw on clothes. My phone started ringing right after I buttoned my pants. It was an unrecognized number, and a feeling of dread flooded my gut.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Is this Reagan Anders?”

“Yes.”

“I think your roommate is here and in need of your assistance.”

“Who is this?”

The bartender was calling from a seedy bar on the other side of town where Ivy had found two older men to buy her drinks. Then she took one into the bathroom leaving her phone and purse on the bar. She had apparently told the bartender to call me to come play. He was not amused.

I could hear Brock still trying to calm Neal and realized that I had to go alone. I would rather Brock go with me for protection or for help carrying Ivy, but Neal couldn’t know. This whole thing would be ten million times worse if he got involved.

I stepped out in the hall and tried to wave Brock discreetly back to my room, but Neal flipped out. “Was that her? Where is she? Something’s wrong. I know it!”

“Man, chill out.”

“It wasn’t her!” I screeched then Neal came toward me and pinned me to the wall.

In a moment of rage unlike anything I had ever seen, Brock took Neal and threw him off me. “Stay away from her!”