Shakespeare's words from A Midsummer Night's Dream came to me—“So quick bright things come to confusion.” Somehow, I'd really, really screwed this up.
Now would she let me fix it?
CHAPTER 15
SHUTOUT
Most of the hallway had cleared out as students headed to the lunchroom. I stood there like a complete moron while Nicole sat on the floor with her head in her hands. I was afraid to say or do anything because I wasn’t sure if she was so angry she couldn’t look at me or if it was because she was crying.
I wasn’t even sure which one would be worse.
Since no little voices whispered words of guidance in my head, I just sat down in the hallway in front of her and tried to figure out what the fuck had happened. I only wanted to help her, and I thought she would have liked it, but obviously, she didn’t feel that way.
“Rumple?” I finally said when the silence was just too much to take anymore.
She tipped her head back up, unshielding it from her hands and her hair at the same time. She didn’t really look mad exactly, but her eyes still glared at me. I realized what I had called her and quickly corrected myself.
“Um…Nicole?” I tried again. “I just wanted…I mean, I didn’t mean to…”
“I know,” she said in a voice that was completely dead. Her eyes dropped to the ground, and she looked so…so…unNicole. I didn’t know what to make of it. “It’s okay.”
Greg’s voice echoed in my mind.
“She was timid and scared, and she always waited for someone else to tell her what to do…”
Oh fuck.
Oh fuckity fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
I got up on my knees to kind of crawl the couple of feet between us until I reached her, and when I went to touch her, she flinched.
“Oh no…no…Nicole…”
I pulled my hand back and watched her wrap her arms around her legs.
“I didn’t mean it…not like that…shit.”
I had to get out of here. I had to get her out of here.
I stood up and crouched beside her, slid my arms behind her back and legs and lifted her up into my arms. I rather expected her to take a swing at me, but she didn’t. She didn’t protest at all.
Fuck.
Without making eye contact with anyone we passed, I carried her swiftly down the hall, out the door, and to my car. I didn’t know what I had in mind and just went purely on instinct—instinct I didn’t know I had. I opened up the back door, placed her in the seat, and then went around to the other side. Once I was in, I reached over and pulled her against my chest, wrapping her up in my arms and just whispering into her hair.
“I didn’t mean it,” I told her. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Please, please…Nicole. Don’t be like this.”
At least I figured out where I went wrong. Somehow, I was going to have to convince her I wasn’t like that guy in Minneapolis—the one that hurt her. I wasn’t like him at all.
Was I?
I kept my arms wrapped around her for the longest time, just holding her against my chest and telling over and over again her how sorry I was. At first, she just slouched against me, not moving, but after a few minutes, I felt her arms snake around my waist.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered again. My arms tensed and I brought her closer to me. “I wasn’t trying to…to…I mean, I only wanted to…help…”
I didn’t know what else to say.
“I know,” she answered.
I pressed my lips to the top of her head.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I know you didn’t,” she said.
We were silent a while longer until she spoke again.
“He was always telling me what a slob I was,” she said softly, and I could hear her breath hitch. “He said if I wasn’t so stupid, I would be able to organize myself. I tried to tell him I always knew where everything was…but he didn’t listen very often to what I said.”
I clenched my teeth and tried to stop myself from putting my fist through the window. I closed my eyes and counted to seventy-six. Finally, I could speak without snarling.
“Did he hit you?” I asked softly. I didn’t want to know, but I still had to know. She was silent way too long, and I tightened my arms around her.
“Only once,” she finally said.
I closed my eyes tightly, trying to rein in the anger that was threatening to boil up to the surface of my skin, probably creating blisters, or at least scaring the shit out of her. It was that possibility that kept me in check.
“If you tell me his full name, I will destroy that motherfucker.”
I felt her shake her head.
“No,” she whispered against my chest, “I don’t want you to do anything.”
I held myself still and tried to take a few deep breaths.
“If that’s what you want,” I told her.
“That’s what I want.”
“I don’t like it,” I said, just to make sure that part was clear.
“I know,” she replied. “Just…don’t.”
“I won’t,” I promised, thought about it for a second, and then added, “but if I ever see him on a soccer field, all bets are off.”
I felt, more than heard, her chuckle.
“You have to tell me when I do something you don’t like,” I said. “I want you to tell me. I don’t want to be a shitty boyfriend like that.”
“It’s just pretend, Thomas,” she scoffed. “It’s just for show.”
I stiffened and looked into her eyes.
Now or never…
“What if…” The words caught in my throat. I swallowed and tried again. “What if I don’t want to pretend?”
Nicole’s eyes narrowed slightly. Her brows squished together, and she looked up at me.
“Thomas…” she said softly, “it’s not…not real.”
“What if I want it to be real?” I whispered. I shifted a little closer to her, as if that were possible. I moved my hand slowly up her arm until it lay across her cheek. I leaned forward, looked into her eyes, and placed my lips against hers.
I heard her sharp intake of breath and then a soft moan as her grip on me tightened, and her lips molded against mine. My head tilted to the side, wanting more. I kissed her again and again. I turned my head the other way and felt her hand grasp the back of my head and pull me closer. I opened my mouth a little—just enough for my tongue to reach out and touch her lips.
Her mouth opened to me without hesitation, and it was my turn to moan.
She tasted so fucking good. She reached out with her tongue and touched mine, and I didn’t hesitate to lick across her lips before I delved into her mouth. My tongue explored, and her little soft moans started driving me over the edge.
“I don’t want to pretend,” I said again. My mouth never left hers as I spoke. “I want it to be real. I want you…”
I felt her nod though she never spoke or broke away from me. Her tongue entered my mouth again and ran along mine. I couldn’t get enough of it, and I sucked on it with my lips as my own tongue traveled along hers. Nicole pressed harder against me, and my head hit the back of the seat as she crawled into my lap and started kissing me in earnest.
So fucking good…
She moved her hands to my shoulders and then back down to my chest. She grazed me slightly with her fingernails through the fabric of my jersey. I groaned against her mouth, and I slid my hands down to her back, and I pulled her against me as we kept kissing and kissing and kissing.
At some point right before we would have needed ChapStick, Nicole pulled back, and her eyes met mine again. She was flushed and breathing hard, but most importantly, the fire was back in her eyes. I tilted my head down and kissed her once more but only lightly.
“If this is going to be real,” she said, “there’s something we have to make perfectly clear.”
Nicole straightened up in the seat, raising herself enough that we were more on eye level. Sh
e took my face between her palms and held me still.
“What?” I asked, feeling a little nervous.
“Thomas Malone, don’t you ever fuck with my shit again, you hear me?”
A smile crept across my face that I just couldn’t stop.
“You think this is funny, Malone?”
I shook my head.
“I think you’re beautiful,” I told her. “And I like it when you call me that, Rumple.”
“What? Malone?” she asked as she shook her head. “That is your name.”
“And for that name which is no part of thee, take all myself.”
She scowled at me, but I saw the corner of her mouth twitch. Leaning forward again, I wrapped my lips around her lower one, sucking on it and running my tongue over it. Her hands tangled back into my hair, and she held me against her. I slowly backed off, reveling in the feeling of her fingers tugging at my hair.
“Shouldn’t you be practicing for a game tonight or something?” she asked with a raised brow.
I tucked my head down against her shoulder and tightened my grip.
“Yeah, probably,” I said with a shrug.
“Maybe you should get out there, then.”
“I probably should.”
“You better play damn well tonight, too,” she added. “I expect a shut out game.”
She pushed her hand under my jaw and tilted my head up to align with hers. She placed her lips against mine and punctuated each word with a kiss.
“Just. For. Me.”
My heart began to beat faster at her words, and I looked into her glorious eyes.
“You got it.”
I couldn’t think of anything I would rather do. It was an exhilarating sensation, and I felt more like me than I had in a really long time.
I was going to win this game.
I was going to win it for my Rumple.
I walked into the locker room about as pumped up as I could be.
“You fuckers ready to kick some ass?” I screamed as I jumped up on the bench next to the lockers.
“Fuck yeah!” Jeremy responded. Several other guys responded in kind.
“Shutout! No fucking scores for these assholes!” I yelled. I pointed over to my defenders. “European defense tonight. You fuckers push them to the sides and then right through to the middle—no crossovers. I’ll take it from there.”
“You got it,” Paul piped up.
“Klosav, Clint—you guys do your shit, and we’ll be set.”
“Fucking A!” they both yelled at once.
“Frankie, if you get one more offside call against you, I will personally kick your ass after the game. Don’t give away the motherfucking ball, you hear me? Stay onside the defenders.”
“Whatever you say, captain.” He gave me a strange little smile, but I ignored him.
“Tony.” I looked down at the freshman who was on the floor near the door to the showers, lacing up his cleats.
“Yeah?” he said. He looked a little concerned.
“You’re starting tonight. Center. Get me a fucking goal.”
His eyes widened, and he smiled.
“Fucking A,” he replied.
I dropped down on the bench and started pulling my stuff out of my bag with one hand while I opened my locker with the other. I lined everything up on the bench—shin guards first, then socks, then my cleats. I put them on, right side first, then the left, laced up the cleats, tucked down the laces, and stood up to stretch.
Shut out game.
For my Rumple.
Mine.
I couldn’t stop smiling.
“You’re in a good mood,” Jeremy said as he plopped down beside me with his cleats still untied.
“We’re gonna kick ass tonight,” I said with a maniacal grin.
“I’m a little surprised,” he said in a softer voice. Some of the other guys started walking toward the locker room doors, ready to head to the field. I could hear the band start to play outside. “I didn’t think things were going so well there a while ago.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well…you and Nicole…in the hall.”
“Oh, you saw that?”
“Yeah, but even if I hadn’t, it’s all anyone was talking about at lunch.”
“Shit, she won’t like that,” I mumbled.
“Since when do you care?” he said, his voice even quieter.
I looked at him, thought about making a smart-ass remark in return but just couldn’t bring myself to do so.
“Since she’s my girl,” I replied with a shrug.
He laughed and clapped his hand on my back.
“I never would have thought it,” he said with a grin. He bent over to tie his laces as he continued to chuckle. “Malone thinking about someone other than himself.”
“Fuck you,” I said, but I was still smiling.
“Let’s go kick some ass.” Jeremy jumped up and offered me a hand. I took it, and he nearly pulled my arm out of my socket.
“Ow!”
“Pussy.”
“Suck my cock.”
“I’ve seen bigger fingers!”
I took a swing at him, but he ducked, laughed, and ran. I chased after him, and the rest of the team followed.
It was going to be a fucking awesome game.
Shakespeare might have told me that playing soccer was “meat and drinke to me.” Somehow, it was days like this that made me completely agree.
Now to kick some motherfucking ass.
The rain started falling just as the whistle blew for the second half.
So far, so good. No score on either side.
I wasn’t sure if Tony was nervous because he started or not, but I was regretting telling the coach to put him in. He’s fucked up about six times, two of which should have been goals. I never looked over to the stands if I could avoid it, but I knew Nicole was up there watching me. It made my heart beat a little faster and my skin tingle.
I wiped rain or sweat or whatever it was off my forehead with my sleeve and crouched down as the other team’s striker made it past the midline. He weaved left and then right, making it past Paul and heading off to the side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see their left wing crossing over to the right side.
“Jeremy! Right!” I screamed. I wasn’t sure if he couldn’t hear me as the rain picked up or if he just wasn’t sure which way right was, but he ended up going the wrong way and leaving the wing wide open.
The striker neatly tipped the ball to the wing just behind Paul and well onside. Jeremy moved into center as the striker made it to the top of the box. Paul wasn’t moving as fast as their wingman, and I could see he was going to position near the corner. I jumped sideways and watched the center striker as the ball crossed over the box at perfect head height.
The striker nailed the ball perfectly, and I watched it as it angled toward the net, jumped, and tipped it with my fingers just over the top bar of the goal. I could hear the crowd screaming as it soared out of bounds behind me. Corner kick for the other team, but not a goal.
“Left, Martin!” I yelled at Jeremy. I waved my hand and he moved into position. Paul set himself up right at the post as their center striker moved to the corner of the field. The crowd screamed at him while I yelled at the players on my team to get into position.
The striker’s kick was good—sailing right into the box. I looked left and right, taking in the scene around me and calculating the greatest risk as the ball soared into the area above my head. Jeremy got a head on it, but it wasn’t enough, and the ball dropped right at the top of the box where one of the midfielders was in perfect position for a goal.
It was low and to my right. I dived as the rain poured down, snatched the ball before it hit a puddle, and pulled it close to my chest. As I lay covered in mud with the ball tightly held to my body, I could hear the crowd screaming my name.
I lived for this shit.
Four minutes left in the game.
I brought the ball to the
top of the box and punted it nearly to the other goalie. Tony didn’t make it in time to get foot to ball, but as the defender on the other team knocked it away, Jeremy was there to put it back on their side.
Clint trapped the ball and ran it up the right side then crossed it over to Klosav. Klosav managed to knock it right at the top of the box, where Tony was waiting. He dodged left then right, and the defender lost his footing. Tony straightened his leg and nailed the ball in the upper right corner, and the crowd went insane.
Two minutes later, as I picked up the ball after a lame kick from our opponent’s offense, the whistle blew, and the game was over.
One-nothing.
Shutout.
Just for my Rumple.
For the first time since the game started, I dared to look over to where I knew she was sitting with Maria and Rachel. As I high-fived the other players, I walked toward the tunnel and saw her smiling down at me.
I leapt over the fence near the edge of the field, pulled Nicole into my arms, and planted a big-ass kiss on her. Somehow, I just didn’t care who might have seen us—I wanted everyone to know she was my girl. What could possibly be wrong with that?
“Shutout game,” I said. I reached out and tried to tap her nose with a mud-covered, gloved finger. She turned at the last second and the mud ended up on her cheek instead. “Just for you, baby.”
“Ugh! Thomas!” Nicole squealed with a laugh. She pushed at my chest, which only served to get more mud on her hands. “You are a mess!”
After pulling off my gloves and dropping them on the ground, I held her up with one arm. I reached over to brush a bit of mud off her face with the opposite hand but only managed to smear it around. I still told her it was better.
“Nice save there at the end,” she said. “I thought the last one was going to go over your head.”
“No way,” I said. “I just wouldn’t allow that.”
Nicole snorted and shook her head as I dropped her back to her feet.
“Nice game, son,” I heard from behind me. I dropped my hands from Nicole’s waist and turned to see Dad in the business suit he usually wore when he was traveling. He walked up to us and reached over to pat me on the back.
“Thanks, Dad,” I replied as my heart started to beat a little faster, and my throat tightened. “You remember Nicole, right?”