Sweet Fall (Sweet Home #2)(22)
Rome’s eyes narrowed as he tried to picture who I was talking about, and a minute later, an expression of recognition flashed across his face. “Yeah?”
I glanced down, not meeting his eyes. “You know her name?”
Rome was quiet for a moment, and when I looked up, he was thinking.
Shrugging, he answered, “Lana, Lucy, Lizzi, something like that. Maybe Lexi? Yeah, I think it’s Lexi.” His brows furrowed. “You gonna tell me why you wanna know?”
I stared at him blankly. Rome laughed and tapped twice on the door. “Didn’t think so. I’m out.”
Once again, I was left in my room, alone. The first thing I pictured was her face—Lana, Lucy, Lizzi, maybe Lexi? Whatever—and immediately I felt like shit.
You terrify me, Carillo. I’m afraid of you…
One hour later and the frat house was teeming with people. I stood nursing my beer in the corner of the room with Rome. Rome was like a damn junkie, twitching, rocking from one foot to the other as he leaned back on the wall beside me, watching the door. He’d already rejected every groupie who had come his way. Rome was a player through and through, and I found his sudden disinterest in the opposite sex f*ckin’ hilarious.
That English chick, Molly, was really getting to the guy.
Rome was talking to me about nothing important when suddenly I saw Ally, Rome’s cousin, enter the house, followed by JD’s woman, Cass, who looked drunk as all hell.
I didn’t notice her at first, but trailing at the back was her. Lana, Lucy, Lizzi, maybe Lexi—whatever the f*ck she was called—dressed all in black: a black long-sleeved shirt-thing that showed her tiny waist, so tiny I could probably fit one hand around it, a black short skirt, black pantyhose, black heels, her hair curled to the side like Dita Von Teese, with huge black-rimmed eyes and dark-red lipstick.
Fuck. Much to my annoyance, she looked good.
She was smiling at Cass running her mouth when, suddenly, she glanced up, all pale-green eyes looking my way. We locked gazes for a few seconds before I remembered her words from earlier. I need you to leave me alone. Gripping my beer in hand, I turned and forced my way through the mass of drunken Tide players and groupies until I burst outta the back doors into the humid night air.
“Austin!” I heard my named called from beside me. Reece sat at the fire pit with the other freshman players. I flicked my chin and made my way over to the surfer-looking second-string QB—all blond hair and laidback attitude—dropping my now-empty Corona into the trashcan.
As soon as I stood before him, Reece handed me a new bottle and the rookie linesman beside him, Collins, moved out of the way to let me sit.
“You good, man?” Reece asked, grinning wide. The kid was okay really. I just couldn’t speak to him like I could Rome and JD. Took someone real special for me to let them in, to tell them about my life.
Slapping my hand on his shoulder, I nodded my head, telling him I was good. Reece turned to talk with Caleb Baker, a young wide receiver, about Tanya, the vice-captain cheerleader strutting across the lawn. I left them to it—I didn’t wanna talk about some fake blonde whose only troubles were what color lipstick she would choose to wear to class on Monday.
Leaning back against the bench, I looked up at a sky full of stars, and I inhaled. Why is it that when you’re faced with the billion tiny lights of the galaxy, you feel a comforting sense of unimportance, like your problems are nothing? That there’s more to life, to the world, than what you think, like humans are all part of some big plan, a grand design God set out for us to play out. But as soon as you look away from that blanket of diamonds, all your problems slam home once more, and any shit you’re going through crushes you. All issues you have stab you in your chest, and everything’s illuminated.
“Where’s he going?” I heard Reece say as I stared down at the floating lime in my Mexican beer. An elbow nudged my side. Looking up, I saw Reece pointing to Rome sprinting across the street in the direction of a sorority house. Reece was still looking at me in question, so I shrugged my shoulders.
Glancing across the patio, I saw Ally, Cass, and JD hanging out by the grill. But that cheerleader was nowhere in sight.
When the conversation around me shifted to this year’s holiday plans, I knew it was time to move on. I couldn’t sit here, the trailer trash thorn among the roses, while the guys discussed their white picket-fenced houses and cookie-cutter families, sharing gifts and Christmas f*ckin’ cheer.
“I’m out,” I told Reece as I stood up and walked through the manicured garden into the frat summerhouse. Only Rome and me had a key to this place. Pretty f*cked up of us, I know, but as the most senior members of both the Tide and the frat, our word was law. Rome rarely came back here anymore, so it was mostly mine. Christ knows I had to get away sometimes.
Reaching for the key in my pocket, I fished it out and opened the wooden door, deciding not to turn on the lights. If I did, drunken coeds came trying to use it for a f*ck pad. Didn’t wanna cope with that tonight.
The summerhouse was small but one helluva stunning place: all wooden walls and floors, thick red drapes at the windows, two brown leather couches, an open fire, a small kitchenette, a TV, and the crowning glory, a huge f*ck off skylight in the ceiling, flooding only the center of the house with light. Just another example of how footballers get treated in this town.