“What the hell is that?”
“My new ringtone,” I said with a shrug. I checked the screen and saw a text from Jeremy but decided to ignore it for now.
“I’m going to finish my homework and get dinner ready,” Nicole said. She opened the front door and then turned to face me. “Thanks for driving me. See you tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah, of course,” I said. I had kind of hoped she would ask me to stay, but I reminded myself that this was all pretend. There wasn’t anyone watching her now, so there was no reason for her to be around me. The façade could continue again tomorrow.
The phone meowed again, and I pulled up the message app.
Took care of the girls—Jeremy
Good I don’t want any more shit from them
I shoved the phone into my pocket, not feeling any better about any of it. My stomach felt like it was turning to stone as I walked back to my car by myself, started the engine, and headed for my house. All the way there, I tried to figure out why it was getting me down. Even after fucking girls, I never felt bad about leaving them in the dust afterwards, and I had hardly touched Nicole.
I kind of wanted to, though. Maybe that was the problem.
Dad had beaten me home, so I mentally prepared myself as I approached the house.
“Why are you fucking with Harry Lloyd?” Dad asked as soon as I walked in the door.
I had to play this cool, so I just shrugged.
“His daughter is being a bitch, and I’m sick of it,” I told him. “I needed something to shut her up. I’m pretty sure just the threat was enough.”
“Make sure you talk to me before you actually do anything,” Dad said. “I need some shit from him, and I don’t want you fucking him over until I get it.”
“No problem.”
I put my soccer stuff away and started digging around for dinner. Dad sat at the counter in the kitchen and watched me.
“Got any homework?”
Yeah…not falling for that one.
“Well, I have to pick up Nicole Skye on the way to school tomorrow so I can sign my name,” I said with a smirk. “Does that count?”
He laughed.
“Nice job.” He opened up his phone and started scrolling through the screen. “How was practice?”
“Good,” I said. “Cut a little short, but we’ll make it up before Friday’s game.”
“Hmm.” He obviously wasn’t really paying attention, so I got myself some food, finished it up, and headed up to my room without further conversation. Once I was up there, I locked the door and decided to quickly finish my homework. I was obviously going to have to make sure he didn’t catch me doing it, or there would be hell to pay.
As soon as I turned my eyes toward the room, I knew he had been in here.
There was a CD sticking out a little, and it definitely hadn’t been when I left. My pillow wasn’t straight on the bed, and the drawer to my nightstand was open just a tiny bit. My skin felt cold. Dad had obviously been in here, looking around—looking for something. What? What could he be looking to find? What did he suspect?
I went over to the nightstand and knelt down near the stack of Goal magazines. The one on the top was two months old. They were out of order, and they weren’t stacked up as high as they were before. I picked them up, started sorting them again, and discovered quickly what was wrong.
My sketchbook was gone.
I closed my eyes and tried to keep my breathing slow and steady. It didn’t work, though. I could feel the tension in my muscles and the quickening of my pulse throughout my body. My fingers were trembling, and I had to set the magazines down on the floor. I couldn’t stand that, though, so I quickly sorted them again and stacked them back on the nightstand shelf.
Maybe he only moved it.
I quickly scrutinized the room, looking for other changes. It was getting harder and harder to take a deep breath, and my chest hurt.
The bookshelf—I straightened out the six books that weren’t parallel anymore.
My dresser—two of the soccer trophies on it weren’t level with the others.
The leather couch up against the window—it was sticking out a little farther, and I could see the slight dent in the carpet from the legs. I moved it back into place.
What else? What else?
I couldn’t stand it. He wasn’t supposed to come in here, and he wasn’t supposed to touch anything. Everything was wrong now, and I just couldn’t handle the disorder. Nothing was right. Nothing. Nothing.
I needed my sketchbook back.
I opened the door and headed back down the stairs, trying desperately to keep my calm. I couldn’t ask him for it—there was no way—so I just had to find it.
I failed.
There wasn’t any sign of it in any of the trashcans—inside the house or outside.
I went back to my room, but I couldn’t stand to be in there. It was just wrong now. There were too many things to fix. I moved the clock back into its position on top of the nightstand, noting that it was nearly ten-thirty. I didn’t realize so much time had passed.
What else was wrong? What else was missing or out of place?
I glanced around the room. I couldn’t focus. I needed to go to bed, but I wasn’t going to be able to sleep here. No fucking way.
Tip-toeing back down the stairs, I shuffled through my soccer bag for my keys, opened the front door as quietly as I could, and got into my car. I didn’t really think about where I was going though my destination was completely clear to me.
I had only one place to go.
The light from the computer monitor created a soft glow from the other side of Nicole’s window. I had parked where there was an old logging road, and my car wouldn’t be visible from the street, and now stood on the grass right below her window.
Looking around, I found a handful of pebbles on the ground and tossed them one at a time at the window until Nicole looked out.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked.
“Can I come in?” I called back.
She let out a sigh as she rolled her eyes.
“Go around to the door,” she grumbled.
I made it to the porch just as Rumple opened the door. She was dressed in a gray T-shirt and shorts and was obviously about to go to bed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I can’t be in my room right now,” I said, begging her with my eyes not to ask. She must have heard my silent plea because she looked me over, sighed, and then motioned me inside the house.
“Be quiet,” she whispered. “Dad’s a heavy sleeper, but if he saw you…”
She really didn’t have to say anything else. Every time I thought about Sheriff Skye, I pictured him with a gun bulging out from his belt. I knew he’d never risk doing something to me in a premeditative way, but if he thought he was protecting his daughter, I’d be shot before he thought about it at all.
We crept upstairs and into Rumple’s room. She turned off her PC monitor and motioned toward the bed. I watched her as I tried to decide exactly what I was supposed to do now. It felt like I was suddenly playing on offense, and I couldn’t remember how to handle the ball with my feet. I had no idea what to do.
Thankfully, Rumple seemed to know.
“Come on,” she said with an exasperated sigh. “Get in.”
Perhaps Shakespeare would have said I “should suffer salvation, body and soul.” Somehow, I thought Nicole could be my salvation.
Now what if she didn’t want to be?
CHAPTER 12
PRACTICE
After I took off my shoes and socks, I climbed into Nicole’s bed and put my head on her pillow. Even before she lay down next to me, just the scent of her surrounding me seemed to calm my nerves. Once she was there beside me, and I wrapped my arm around her waist again, my world came back into focus. When her hand came up to my face, and her fingers tangled in my hair, I felt like I could take a deep breath again.
“What did he do, Th
omas?” Nicole whispered. With the lights off in her room, I could only just make out her features in the dark.
Somehow, that made it easier.
“He was in my room,” I said quietly. “I just… It’s stupid, I know, but…”
My voice trailed off.
“What?” Nicole pressed.
“He moved stuff…took stuff. Everything was out of place.”
Nicole was quiet for a moment while she seemed to contemplate what I said.
“That really does bother you, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “Your locker just about gave me a heart attack.”
She laughed quietly through her nose and stroked my temple.
“But you aren’t freaking out being in my bed even though I never make it?”
“Yeah…it’s okay,” I said and realized I meant it. “It smells good.”
“It smells good?” she raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah,” I replied. “It smells like you.”
I felt my face get warm, which was strange. The darkness probably hid the fact from her, and I was good with that.
Nicole was quiet for a few minutes, and I closed my eyes halfway, just lying there and thinking about how it felt when her fingers curved in a little, and her nails lightly scratched my scalp.
“What did he take?” Nicole asked after a while.
“It was nothing, really.” I shrugged. “Just my sketchbook.”
“You draw?” The shock in her voice made me tense. I never talked to anyone about my sketchbook or anything I had ever drawn, and I didn’t want her to think I was a pussy about art or anything.
“Not really,” I said, trying to backpedal. “I mean, not seriously or anything. I just kind of…doodle, I guess.”
“Why would he take it?”
“He doesn’t want anything to distract me from soccer,” I told her. “He’s just looking out for me—I know that. He just wants to make sure I keep my focus, but there were some sketches…well, I just didn’t want them gone. I don’t know what he did with them.”
“How is that looking out for you?” Nicole said with her voice full of venom.
“I want to go pro,” I said, shrugging again. “If I let other things get in the way, then my chances of getting on the right team aren’t as good. If you are going to be the best, be the fucking best. I’m not going to settle for anything else.”
Nicole scowled at me.
“What team is the right team?”
“Real Messini.”
“Really?” Nicole scoffed. “Thomas…they don’t even scout in the US.”
“They do now.”
There was a long pause before Rumple spoke again.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re coming to watch me play in two weeks,” I said.
“Are you serious?” The pitch of her voice increased, and she sat partway up in the bed, looking down at me. “They’re looking to replace William?”
“Yeah, eventually.”
“Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Thomas, that is huge.”
“That’s why he doesn’t want anything else getting in my way,” I explained. “He just wants what’s best for me.”
“Taking your sketchbook and breaking your rib are what’s best for you? How well are you going to play with a broken rib?”
I cringed, feeling my muscles tighten all over. I closed my eyes, as if squeezing them shut could force the images out of my head.
“He didn’t mean to,” I said. “It was an accident.”
“Bullshit,” Nicole mumbled.
“Please…don’t.” I’d beg her if I had to. I couldn’t talk about this.
She lay back down and traced her fingers over my cheek, down to my jaw, and then up into my hair again. She started pushing the stray strands behind my ear, and I felt my body melt into the mattress.
“All right,” she said.
“It will be better by then, anyway.” I shifted a little to get into a more comfortable position, and my hand slid down her side. My fingers grazed over her bare skin where her shirt had ridden up a bit. I probably should have moved my hand on top of the material again, but instead I slowly traced little circular patterns on her skin with the pads of my fingers.
I looked back to her eyes, and even in the dim light, I thought she was about the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She might not have the glamour of some model-types, but she had something more natural—more undeniably feminine about her. She also had strength—not just in her body but in her spirit.
And her skin was really, really soft, and it made me wonder if her lips were as soft as the skin on her side. That’s when I remembered something I had been thinking about earlier in the evening on my way home from dropping off Nicole.
“Hey…um…Nicole?”
“Yes?” she replied. “I am the only one here, you know.”
“Heh…yeah.” I felt one side of my mouth involuntarily turn up a little. I licked my lips and took a breath before continuing. “I was just wondering….um…”
I paused.
“Spill it, Malone,” Nicole said with a grin.
“Um…you know,” I started and then stopped again. “I mean, um…I was thinking…you know people are going to expect us to…well…to act like boyfriend and girlfriend, right?”
“Yeah,” Nicole said with wary eyes. “Quit stalling. What do you mean exactly?”
Turning my head back against the pillow, I stared up at the darkened ceiling for a second before I rolled over and just looked at the pillowcase instead.
“Well, I was thinking at some point…I mean…it would only be natural…” I stammered on, unable to complete an actual sentence.
“Thomas, will you just spit it out?”
Why was this so hard? I usually just fucking grabbed the girl and kissed her when I wanted. What was it about Rumple that made everything so different?
“We ought to kiss…you know…in front of people,” I finally blurted out. I looked back at her, and Nicole’s eyes widened a little. I just hoped and prayed she wouldn’t tell me to get the fuck out.
She just lay there staring at me, so I kept on babbling.
“So…I was kind of wondering if we should…um…practice.”
“Practice?”
“Yeah,” I said. I moved my eyes away from hers again and stared at my hand at her waist then back at the pillow. “Like, we should try kissing…so it doesn’t look awkward if we have to do it in front of other people.”
I kept my eyes trained on the pillowcase, wondering if it was more of a tan or beige and mostly just trying not to meet Nicole’s gaze at all. I was tensing up again, but only a little bit because she still had her hand in my hair. She hadn’t moved away from me yet.
“Okay,” she whispered.
The pillowcase was definitely losing its appeal, so I looked back at her.
“Now?” I asked.
“Um…yeah.”
I tried to keep my heart from leaping right out of my broken ribcage.
I ran my fingers against the skin at her side, gripping her lightly as my gaze danced involuntarily from her mouth to her eyes. I shifted my head, rubbing my cheek against the pillow a little before I rose and moved a few inches closer. I looked at her eyes, dilated in the darkness, but clear and bright…beautiful. I looked back at her lips…ever so slightly parted and releasing her breath just a little quicker than before.
I traced my tongue over my bottom lip and focused solely on what she was going to taste like. I grasped her side just a little bit tighter as I pulled her slightly toward me. Nicole’s hand slipped behind my head.
I moved closer, and I could feel her breath against my mouth. I could even taste it. Inhaling through my nose, I let her scent wash over me as my eyes closed, and I eliminated the final, minuscule distance between us.
My lips met hers.
So, so soft.
My head was spinning in circles. My skin rose in goose bumps, and everything around us faded and
disappeared from the senses. There was no sound, no sight, no feeling outside of the slight contact between our lips.
Warm.
She tasted like she smelled…heavenly.
Pushing just a little, I molded my lips around hers, kissing her again. Her fingers tightened their grip in the hair at the back of my head, pulling me tighter against her mouth. I heard and felt her muted gasp.
I didn’t stop. I kissed her again, softly and slowly, moving my lips in sync with hers. It was as flawless as when we danced together. It was as flawless as the ripple of her thighs as she swung her leg, contacted the edge of the ball, and pinned it in the corner of the net.
Nicole shifted, pushing herself up a little, pressing my head down against the pillow. Her mouth wrapped around my lower lip, sucking on it gently, and it was my turn to moan. My fingers slid up her back, under her shirt, and teased along her spine. I felt the arteries in my thighs start to pump more blood to my cock as it pressed against her leg.
So, so good.
Nicole pulled back, breaking our contact, and I had to stop myself from whining. For a long moment, we just looked at each other. Both of us were still breathing quickly, and my heart continued to race in my chest. She was still very, very close…I could have reached out with my tongue and still touched her mouth.
“Do you think that was good enough?” Nicole’s whispered words brushed my lips with her breath.
“I’m convinced,” I said. I closed my eyes, mentally cataloging the last thirty seconds under the best fucking seconds of my life. I went over and over it…again and again. Every touch, every breath, every beat of my heart, every twitch of her fingers...everything. When I opened my eyes again, I looked into the deep, beautiful blue irises next to me, and I knew I didn’t want to pretend anymore.
I wanted her to feel it.
Really feel it.
This wasn’t any old game anymore; it was the fucking World Cup to me.
I don’t know how long we lay there just looking into each other’s eyes. I actually lost track of the time. Nicole’s hand stayed against the back of my head, and my fingers continued to trace lines up and down her lower back. It wasn’t awkward or strange just to be looking at her in the darkness of her room. It felt natural and right to me.