The Revenge Pact (Kings of Football, #1)(64)

His breathing is labored.

“Finish yours,” I say softly.

“She drops the hoodie and watches me take my clothes off. Slow. We stare at each other. I like looking at her. It reminds me of how lucky I am. Finally, we kiss, and I want to go slow, but part of me doesn’t. She comes on my fingers and I steal her gasps with my mouth. Then I go down on her. Then I fuck her. Face to face, my eyes on hers, sweat on our skin—”

I’m panting. “Stop.”

His breath hitches. “You’re right. Too far.”

Not far enough.

I bite my lip and try to ignore the goose bumps on my skin, the heat in my core.

His voice is raspy when it comes. “Have dinner with me.”

I sit up on the bed, body on alert. “Really? Like a…” date?

“We both have to eat, right? Then, we work on the paper.”

“Okay, where? I can meet you there.”

“Paulo’s? It’s a pizza dive on Second Ave?”

“Yeah. Off campus. Mostly townies.” Which means no one will see us.

“Yeah.”

I check the clock. “See you in an hour?”

“It’s a date,” he says as he clicks off.

I stare down at the phone.

I know he didn’t mean it, that it’s a date.

“Freud says slips of the tongue reveal unconscious thoughts,” I murmur to myself as I dash to my closet to find something to wear.

Later, as I’m about to head out, my phone pings with a text.

Ana. I’m sorry, so sorry I hurt you. Can we talk? Can I see you? I don’t want to do this over the phone. Please.

My hands tighten around the cell and I tuck it into my purse. He’s called and texted me on and off since Monday, but still, the humiliation from Friday rears its ugly head.

“No, Donovan. Not now.”

And then I’m out the door.





I’m driving down Highland, about five minutes away from Paulo’s when my phone rings and I glance down, anxious that it’s Donovan, but it’s not.

I see my dad’s name and immediately pull over. They called on my birthday, but it was rushed since I was at work.

“Anastasia!” they both sing into the phone as I answer.

My mom takes over, a smile in her voice. “We miss you!”

“Miss you too,” I say. “It’s late there.”

“Ah, you know us—we’re just getting started,” she says. I hear people in the background, low voices, the soft sounds of music. I picture the house they share in Santorini with a few people. The photos they’ve sent are breathtaking, a small, white-washed, blue-domed villa that overlooks the Aegean Sea with stucco walls and rustic furniture.

She asks how school is, how Donovan is, how the law school applications are going, and I tell her about us breaking up, leaving out the hurtful things he said about me and them. Maybe I’ll tell them someday. They still feel guilty about Bryson, extremely, and I don’t want to dig that up.

She gives her condolences about everything. “You’ll do great things someday, sunshine,” she tells me. “What you feel, you attract. What you imagine, you create. A jug fills drop by drop.”

I smile. “Buddha.”

She laughs, and I sigh at the sound. I. Miss. Them.

My mom is forty-five, beautiful and leggy with long jet-black hair and a vivaciousness that sucks you in. My dad is tall and handsome, older, with a craggy face and a shy smile. He fell for her in college when he was her art professor. Sucked into her orbit, she coaxed him into leaving his job and living a bohemian lifestyle.

“We decided to come home for the holidays,” Dad tells me when he gets on. “Can we see you?”

Oh! The last time we spoke, they didn’t have the money.

“I-I didn’t think I’d see you. I actually made plans.” I briefly catch them up about the ski trip then Ellijay with Lila and Colette.

“Your mom’s jewelry is selling like crazy in the boutiques, and I sold a big painting this weekend, a few thousand bucks, so we have extra cash. We don’t want to intrude on your plans with your friends, but it would be perfect to see you since school is out. We miss you, and it’s time to connect. Think you can work us in, sunshine?”

I need to see them. Maybe they can help me figure out a plan for the fall.

“Of course! Lila and Colette would totally understand. They invited me because I didn’t have plans. I hate to miss the ski trip, but… Where were you thinking of staying?”

“We can work around the ski trip. We have access to a beach house in Malibu. There’s also a place on Nantucket someone offered. Or we could go to the houseboat in Seattle. It’s vacant. You decide. You know we’re easy.”

They are.

An idea hits. “How about my apartment? I don’t have the money to fly to you.” I spent my savings on the ski trip. “You’ve never seen it and my roommates won’t be there, so we’ll have the place to ourselves, and then there’s June…” I go into an explanation about her.

“Tell me about this grandma,” Mom says as she gets back on the phone. I laugh and repeat everything. She listens intently, offering suggestions on how to help her. It’s not anything I haven’t tried, but I appreciate her interest.