“Hmmm?” She smiled down at me, and by the gleam in her eye, I knew she’d already guessed what I was going to say.
“You know what we haven’t done yet? Makeup sex. I mean, I’ve never had it, and neither have you, so we’re both makeup sex virgins. And right now, we have an empty house. And my bed.”
Quinn lifted one eyebrow. “I’m still a little mad at you.”
I snaked a hand up to cup her tit. “I can work with that. I’m willing to do anything to make you feel better. Think, like, multiple orgasms.”
Her cheeks flushed and she rolled her eyes, but I knew I had her. “Well, I guess it would be mean-spirited of me not to give you a fighting chance to make it up to me, hmmmm?”
“Definitely.” I stood up, congratulated myself silently that I didn’t sway at all, and scooped Quinn into my arms. “Let me remind you how much I love you. Over and over again.”
Quinn forgave me for fucking up that weekend, and on the surface things between us went back to normal. But deep down, something had shifted.
It felt like we were arguing more. Part of it was the time of year, I knew; football was taking up more of my time, and when I hung around so much with the team, I ended up wanting to go to parties. It wasn’t that I needed to drink or that I wanted to spend time in crowded houses, watching other people get wasted and fuck each other. But not going to the parties meant I was somehow less part of the team. I missed stuff that happened.
Quinn didn’t get that. She thought I was just making excuses to go, and that pissed me off, too. I didn’t have to make excuses. If I wanted to go, I would. And if I thought there was something I should do to make our team better, hell, I’d do that, too. We were going into my senior year, and what happened in my future—where I went to college, which would then determine whether or not I went pro—could be determined by what happened on the football field this coming fall. Coach had drilled that into me. I was a leader, and the team needed me as much as I needed the team.
And if Quinn didn’t understand that ... well, I didn’t want to think about the second part of that sentence.
My mom was doing pretty well, but the stress of her illness was weighing on me, too. I hated the uncertainty of everything. I worried that when the day came for me to go pro, my mother might not be with us anymore. I wanted to spend extra time with her, but I was afraid to get too close. Terrified of losing her.
I was fucking sick of being scared of everything. The only time I stopped thinking about being afraid was when I was drunk. Or when I was on the football field.
We’d just finished practice on a gorgeous afternoon in early May, and I was heading into the locker room with the rest of the team. We were messing around as usual, giving each other shit, and I was laughing with Matt when Brent punched me on the shoulder.
“Dude, you got a minute?”
I frowned. Brent sounded serious, which was unusual enough to make me nervous. Nodding, I stepped over to the railing that divided the field from the stands. “Sure, Collins. What’s up?”
Brent shuffled his feet in the loose dirt. “Ah, maybe nothing. But um, I saw that stuff Quinn’s writing in the newspaper. About bullying, you know?”
I nodded. “Yeah. What about it?”
“I was just checking—she’s not going to write about me, is she? About Tim and Karl and me, and what happened with the gi—I mean, with Nate last year?”
I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “No, of course not, Brent. Why would you even be worried?”
He lifted one massive shoulder. “Don’t know, but I just got to thinking. About college next year and shit. If something like that was on my record, I could kiss my shot at a decent school goodbye. I can’t take that chance.”
“Okay, well, problem solved. I told you she’s not going to include that.”
“But maybe you should talk to her. Just make sure. I mean, Quinn’s cool and all, but I’m not sure how much she loves the football team, you know? Will you talk to her for me?”
Great. This was going to be a big fucking deal, I knew. But to Brent I only said, “Yeah, I’ll mention it. But don’t worry, okay? Not going to be an issue.”
“Aw, thanks, Taylor. I appreciate it.” Brent whacked me on the back and went whistling into the locker room, clearly feeling much better. Me, on the other hand? Not so much.
After I’d showered and changed, I texted Quinn to meet me at my car. I didn’t feel like making nice at the newspaper office right now, and I was tired, too. I leaned against my car, my eyes closed.
“Boo.” Laughing, Quinn circled her arms around my waist. “Are you asleep on your feet out here, you poor thing?”
“Pretty much.” I opened her door and then got behind the wheel on my side and backed out of the lot. “Hey, Mia. Need to ask you something.”
“Hmmm?” She turned to look at me, smiling.
“That bullying series you’re doing in the paper. You’re not going to talk about what happened with the guys last fall, are you?”
I could practically feel her good mood evaporating. “Why do you ask?”
