The Perfect First (Fulton U, #1)(26)

Closing my door, I spotted my case in the corner. I flicked open the latch and lifted the smooth wooden body out of the case. Turning the lock on my door, I went back to my bed and picked up my bow. The wood warmed to my touch, and the cool metal strings pressed against my fingers. My anxiety from the day and worry about what lay ahead fell to the back of my mind as I started to play, running across the corded metal.

Maybe it was because playing relaxed me.

Maybe it was because I loved playing, and maybe it was also because of how much Alexa hated it. I ran my bow back and forth, trying something new—my own spin on a song I’d heard in the coffee shop with Graham. Hozier’s “Take Me to Church” vibrated its way through my bones. I wanted someone to look at me the way he sang about, like there was no other place they could find peace but in my presence.

A sharp banging on the door brought a smile to my lips. Opening my eyes, I stared out the window of my room. Was it mean that I took pleasure in the volume of Alexa’s voice coming in from the hallway? Or the way Dan told her it sounded nice and to chill out? I was tired of being nice and quiet and small. I was tired of being me, and the only way to change that was to stop being afraid of what I wanted.





10





Reece





I ran into the end zone with the ball tucked under my arm. Dropping it, I waited for the call from the ref and walked toward the bench. A pileup of teammates slammed into me. The celebration dance that usually followed just wasn’t there for me. I jogged off the field and sat on the bench.

Home games were always deafening. Usually, it made every point that much sweeter, but tonight I had other things on my mind—the same thing that had been on my mind through the practices and weightlifting sessions. While I should have been focusing on studying and making sure my grades were where they needed to be, I was worried about a little fish who’d nearly drowned.

When I looked up, everyone was staring at me like I’d grown another head. “What?” I stared back at them. Grabbing my water bottle, I sprayed water into my mouth. I slammed my bottle down, and the ten pairs of eyes on me snapped back to the field.

The way Seph had grabbed hold of me as I’d helped her to the edge of the pool flashed through my mind. I could have killed her. When she’d said she’d studied it, I had thought she meant she couldn’t swim well or hadn’t swum in a while and wasn’t comfortable, not that she flat-out couldn’t keep herself above water. And, of course, she wouldn’t want to admit to something like that, revealing something she couldn’t do well.

Nearly a week later and I hadn’t heard from her. Was she busy with classes? Had she and Graham hooked up already? Maybe she didn’t even want to talk to me anymore, now that she’d gotten what she wanted from him. Maybe I couldn’t get her out of my mind because she’d walked away from me, or maybe it was because I’d mentally made her off limits and said that under no circumstances was I going to sleep with her, forbidden fruit or something.

All her pent-up stuffiness made me want to peel everything off her, undo her ridiculous braids, and let her go absolutely wild. There was a wild streak under there. I could tell. It was a smack you with a ruler and sit on your lap kind of thing. Just stop thinking about her. The seconds ticked down on the field.

“What’s up with you, man?” LJ sat beside me on the bench. He was riding the bench a lot these days.

“Stuff.”

“Stuff that’s got you distracted from the tenth win this season and pro scouts being in the stands.”

I turned around and looked up. Most of the times scouts just watched tapes. Very seldom did they come to games, but they were always easy to spot. Steely gazes and road warrior fatigue were dead giveaways.

“So they are.” My heart raced and my leg bounced up and down.

The clock hit zero and everyone was off the bench and onto the field, but I wasn’t the last one off this time. I headed back to the locker room after high-fiving Nix for getting us another win with killer passes. His dad had to be so proud that his son was almost certainly going to be a first-round draft pick. He was pretty much a lock. Mine hadn’t been to a game since I started playing in college.

Coach caught up to me in the tunnel. Tugging my pads off, I carried them off toward the locker room.

“I see the media consultant worked.” He clapped me on the back. “Great job not showboating out there. The pro scouts love that kind of stuff.”

Keeping my mouth shut, I nodded and rocked back on my heels.

“Let’s get to the press conference.” He clapped his hands on my shoulders and practically walked me into the room filled with camera flashes and a small pool of reporters. Their questions were the same that had been asked a million times. Usually that was a comfort—no one likes a curveball—but tonight I just wanted to get out of there.





*



Back at the house, things were in full swing. I barely made an appearance, heading straight up to my room. Keeping up appearances didn’t matter to me anymore. Their opinions of me were worth less than nothing. It was almost worse having everyone show up at the parties when they thought the accusations were true. If I were that big of an asshole, why would anyone even want to be around me? Football was the drug, and I was the celebrity syringe. They were ready to use me up and toss me aside as soon as my usefulness was gone.