Flash (Penmore #2) Read online

  “We shared a few shitty stories each. I don’t think it means we know each other. Maybe we aren’t strangers, but you telling me about how you saw me sitting at a café before my life went to shit also doesn’t distract me from the fact that you didn’t tell me about why I should let you keep up this protection gig.”

  “Flash—”

  “No. We work together, finish this class. You want to come to this club every night and sit by the stage, I won’t stop you, but if it’s for that girl in the café, you know now that she’s a ghost.”

  “I get it,” he murmured, walking toward me. I didn’t move, frozen as his large hand reached out to stroke my cheek. “You’re too busy trying to do shit on your own.”

  “Good,” I whispered, not sure if his words were patronizing or understanding. Then I reminded myself.

  I wasn’t meant to care.

  MILLIE

  MY LATEST CHARACTER WAS THE unfeeling ice queen. I had perfected the art of the cold shoulder. There wasn’t laughter or smiling, just cool indifference.

  I went to all my classes, didn’t try to avoid him. I made myself be seen around the quad, and I even sat in close proximity to Cooper during class. I simply ensured my head was always turned toward the teacher, or my nails, or my handwriting, or my cell phone. With every movement of my body, I demonstrated that I was sincere when I’d told him that we would remain strangers.

  However, I was constantly replaying the conversation we had at the frat house in my mind. Hearing his story softly whispered over the cold wind. There was no outward sign, but my heart had yet to stop bleeding for a little lost boy and an oblivious girl who had their futures shattered without warning. My eyes were empty of the emotions that wanted desperately to escape and run down my cheeks. In my dreams, I was no longer in the library; instead, I was on that back deck.

  The first time I saw him sitting at the edge of the stage as I danced since we’d shared our secrets, I made sure to greet him afterward at the bar. I was Basic Instinct indifferent—tight white dress, sweeping heels, acting all superior—while managing to keep my legs close together as I sat beside him. I slid the completed assignment across the counter, watched his arched eyebrow and smirk, and returned to the dressing rooms as if I had no care in the world. I didn’t take in his gorgeous green eyes laughing at me or feel the urge to wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face in his broad chest, and cry.

  Every night after that I kept my distance. He came to each show, but neither of us made a move to show that there was any familiarity between us. I never acknowledged the fact that I saw him follow me home on his bike and wait until I was inside before driving off again.

  I had everything worked out.

  I was under control.

  My life was all about avoiding disaster.

  Well, except during those rare moments when my best friend got involved.

  In a moment of weakness, I told Parker about my conversation with Cooper, minus the dramatic stage exit. I talked about the frat party and his description of us in that café—happy and unmarred by the darker aspects of life. I told her about his suggestion to take Jessie to one of Gray’s games and my decision to keep his offer of friendship at a distance. I ignored her pleas to reconsider and her arguments for me to stop building walls around myself.

  I just didn’t have any energy left when she told me how excited Gray was about the idea of Jessie coming to his next game. When I finally agreed to go, I decided it would all be fine. I was good in the lecture hall. I was good at the club. I could damn well be good at a damn football field.

  “Here they come,” Parker said from beside me, and I felt the bottom of my stomach drop.

  I tried not to look at the field and instead focused on Jessie sitting on my lap. She was adorable, her big white jacket with Gray’s number 27 stitched into the back, little blue skirt, and long yellow socks making her look like a mini cheerleader. Her curly brown hair was up in pigtails with blue and yellow ribbons attached to her hair ties. If she weren’t driving me mad trying to pull off her noise-canceling headphones, I probably would’ve insisted she sit on my lap for every game in the future. The cuteness factor alone was enough for me to ignore the gnawing tension I felt bubbling inside of me.

  The excitement in the stands as the team entered the field distracted Jessie enough to stop her fidgeting, so I turned and watched the crowd with avid interest. Every spectator seemed overwhelmed with anticipation. The atmosphere in the stadium that had been building during the day had finally reached boiling point as all the people from our school started cheering.

  Between the new action on the field and the spectacle in the stands, Jessie gazed around as if in a brightly colored candy shop. She reached for Parker, as if already aware of who would put her closest to the action. Parker immediately opened her arms wide and settled Jessie on her hip. She started swaying in time with the crowd’s cheers, causing Jessie to giggle and clap her hands.

  I should’ve taken a photo, recorded this sight for Tahnee—Jessie’s first football game. I tried to dress us similar for the photo opportunities: matching blue shirts, big white jackets, knee-high yellow socks, and pigtails. I had it all planned—if I was too busy taking photos, I wouldn’t focus on Cooper. I wouldn’t spend the entire game watching his every move on the field.

  But I didn’t take a photo. I was too nervous. Without any control over my actions, my gaze kept moving from player to player. Searching for that thick brown hair and don’t-mess-with-me attitude.

  "He usually stands around the back," Parker told me, grinning. “Next to Trick.”

  "Gray’s at the front. Don’t worry, I saw him,” I let her know, lying to myself, pretending I didn’t know exactly who she was talking about.

  "I'm not pointing out Gray. I'm pointing out number 32, the guy you're looking for. The guy I’ve seen pacing along the sidelines at the last couple games you didn’t bother coming to. Although, I think my favorite memory of him is in your kitchen bending you—"

  "Shhh. I’m not looking for him." I was sure my cheeks had bloomed bright red. I managed to hold out for five seconds before I followed her visual instructions and located number 32.

  I soaked in his appearance, examining the tattoos that couldn’t be hidden beneath his jersey, the way the pads attached to his muscles made him appear like a giant among men.

  "Bullshit," Parker chuckled.

  "Hey! Little ears," I chastised as my eyes drifted to Jessie. When I saw she still had her headphones on, I smiled.

  "Like you haven't said ‘bullshit’ around her," she whispered.

  "Yeah, but she's nearly two and she's starting to collect her words. Plus, I'm her mother. I swear she's already learned to ignore everything that comes out of my mouth."

  Parker laughed and turned back to the field. Sitting on the edge of our seats, we watched the players assemble for the coin toss. Wolverines won the toss and decided to go on the defensive. Cheerleaders for both teams went crazy, twirling and throwing their batons in their sparkling outfits. The Penmore cheerleaders executed a quick dance routine, which distracted me from the action. I wondered if, in a different life, I would’ve been one of those girls. Could I have been a girl known for her cheer? I could rock the pigtails, but could I have been that happy?

  “Looks like Jordan is sitting on the bench tonight with an injury,” Parker told me, pulling my head back into the game. Her eyebrows rose as she turned and asked me, “Did you know your boy was going to start?”

  “Not my boy,” I informed her. Pretending that I didn’t care what she was telling me, I put on my bitchiest tone and ignored the fact that she could see right through me. When she didn’t hold back her snort, I continued, “You know, sometimes I miss my friend who knew nothing about football except for the scientific statistics.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she replied, winking at me, “Blame the boyfriend and his game tapes.” She turned back to the game and then started commentating for me, explaining the plays and occasiona
l player gossip. I chose to focus on Jessie’s reactions to the crowded atmosphere.

  I adjusted Jessie’s socks and contemplated getting her a snack when Parker’s comments seemed to only be about Cooper. “Wow, that must’ve hurt. I wonder if he practices that move at home. Oh my God, did you see that? Millie, your guy is blocking everything that comes at him like he’s swatting away flies. Did he just jump over that guy? I can honestly say that after this game, you’re probably going to be the only girl not offering him your undivided attention.”

  With those last words, I gave in, looking up just in time to see Cooper score a touchdown. As the crowd and boys on the field went crazy, I murmured, “So he’s good. I figured he had to be pretty good to get on the team.”

  “You’re not wrong, but there are athletes and then there are star athletes. Not to mention running backs are usually just fast. Unless they’re running for a touchdown, they aren’t doing anything too impressive, but your boy is fast and strong. He’s also reacting so damn quickly. He’s already made two knockdown blocks.”

  I tried to ignore Parker’s words. With the Herons’ defensive line taking center stage, I was able to watch the game and tell myself that she was just misinformed. I witnessed each defensive player perform like an iron fist, smashing down every play with little effort. The crowd was screaming just as loudly as they had been before. Cooper wasn’t being treated any different. He was just another player.

  Nothing was different.

  When the offensive line came back on, I finally didn’t turn away.

  I scrutinized Cooper in the scrimmage, then watched with bated breath as they began another play. Cooper led the way for a touchdown; every Wolverine player foolish enough to go for the ball went down fast and hard. Half the time he didn't bother avoiding their attempts at blocking him. It was like watching them run straight into a brick wall and fall down. If you blinked, you might’ve missed his

  The crowd went wild, crazier than their cheers before.

  He was a monster wrapped in pads and a jersey.

  And they loved it.

  “Everyone at school is going to start worshipping him now, aren’t they?” I said softly.

  “With how much this school loves football and winning? Probably.”

  Her words didn’t fill me with joy.

  Instead I worried.

  I worried how a lost boy who wasn’t used to anyone caring about his actions, would handle thousands of people caring too much.

  Without really caring at all.

  COOPER

  They were cheering: the fans, my teammates, complete strangers.

  It was all over. We defeated the Wolverines 42–13, but the crowd was cheering like we had just won the state championship.

  Between the chanting of Gray’s name and D’s name, I could hear my own. People I’d never met now knew my name. All because of a game.

  My head was fucking throbbing.

  I walked on the field with a history of keeping my word and a reputation for living dangerously. And I had friends on the inside hoping to see me do more than just tackle men on a patch of grass when I finally made it onto ESPN. There was meant to be much more blood and the shrill sounds of an ambulance siren.

  But I didn’t fulfill my promise to Tony. No one got near Gray.

  I didn’t start a riot. I didn’t say a word. I just played the game.

  Hell, I scored more touchdowns in that game than any game I’d played in high school.

  It wasn’t because I thought it was the right thing to do. I’d never given a shit if I was doing the right thing. Mostly because the people who were deciding what was right and wrong in my life were always into sketchy shit up to their eyeballs.

  I just couldn’t bring myself to fuck with a guy trying to help Flash survive.

  Now everything that was meant to happen after I helped end the star quarterback’s future NFL career would no longer transpire. If only an unknown future didn’t screw with my fucking head.

  The moment the last touchdown was made, heaviness settled around me. I suddenly understood that I didn’t deal too well with the undetermined. Since I was thirteen years old, I’d ensured that my life was mapped out. I protected Jake, then Lizzie, then Beth. I worked toward getting us out of the system. I avoided Eli at all costs until he wouldn’t let me ignore him. Then I was locked up and I was following orders. I met Tony and started plotting his revenge.

  I loved it: the planning, the kept promises, the purpose.

  The years with my parents and brother made me hate surprises. The smell of desperation and self-interest exuded from every pore of their bodies, and it wasn’t a stench I ever wanted to worry about coming from mine.

  I was meant to be something different—a fucking martyr if necessary.

  However, in a crowded stadium, a glistening future now laid out before my feet that might only have to do with me. I couldn’t help but get pissed and feel a little unhinged. I missed Jake, was desperate to see Lizzie and Beth. I was worried that Eli was right—I wasn’t surviving.

  It was as if in that moment, their absence was physically hurting me. If I were a fisherman, they had been my lighthouses, and now I felt like I was wrecked. Crashed on coral and rock without a guide, without a light that showed me what I needed to keep fighting toward. I was drowning in a sea of cheering fans.

  I walked off the field while the team was still celebrating behind me. Coach tapped me on the shoulder before I was able to completely extract myself from the group, his expression a mix of awe and pity. With one look, he cut me to the bone. It was as if he knew that I had just done the hardest and easiest thing in the world. As if whatever hard-ass mask he’d been wearing every time he looked at me was slipping.

  “They didn’t have a lot of film to watch and prepare themselves for you,” he muttered. “That won’t be the case for the next game. You going to be ready?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “You’re going to need to spend more time lifting,” he told me sternly. “Hang out with the others. Trick is always working out around noon. He seems like the only one who doesn’t piss you off. Join him.”

  “Will do.”

  “You did good, Daniels. Whatever shit you’re trying to handle, just know, on that field tonight, you did damn good.”

  I nodded.

  “I hear you’re skipping any more classes though and you won’t be starting again. I don’t give a shit how good your grades are, but your academic advisor calling me isn’t shit I want to handle. I’ve given you a chance. After how hard you worked tonight, I’ll give you another. But you fuck it up, it’s now on you. No one will roll out a red carpet into the NFL, but if you want it, I’d be damn proud to help you get there.”

  I just looked at him with dead eyes, already locking down my emotions. Barring the confusion that came with the idea of playing football for a living and the notion that I was the one who would be helped for a change.

  “Okay, Coach,” I replied dismissively, then headed toward the locker room. Ignoring all the other pats on the back and jostling, I started thinking about the pills my brother gave me. They were just sitting in my medicine cabinet in my apartment, itching to be touched.

  When I first got them, it took all my strength not to tip them into my palm and start counting them. The idea of doing anything my brother expected kept my shakes and thoughts at bay.

  I’d been sober for nearly nine months. I wasn’t going to risk it for that asshole. But right then I felt lost.

  There was no plan anymore. No purpose.

  Nothing to focus on that eclipsed the memories and needs that wanted to pull me under.

  And if I was going to drown, I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel it.

  COOPER

  I MOVED SWIFTLY, PAST PARKED cars and tired families. I heard the rumbling complaints from Wolverine fans and the sighs of disappointment. I was almost home free. Seeing my ride, I felt the pressure dissipate. I could almost taste oblivion.

  �
��So, you’re a superstar athlete,” I heard Flash call out behind me, stopping me in my tracks. “Guess we didn’t get to that portion of the show and tell.”

  “I guess not,” I replied, not looking back. I forced myself to keep walking. Chose to keep making my way toward my bike. My salvation.

  “Want to tell me why you’re sneaking off? Not celebrating your victory?”

  “Maybe I’ve just had enough shower time with other guys to last me a lifetime,” I called out as I walked, trying to ignore her presence.

  I had managed throughout the game to pretend she wasn’t there, even after I heard Gray and D talking in the tunnel earlier about her finally coming to a game this season. Granted, it was easy to do when I thought Millie would go out of her way to avoid me. After she had made it pretty clear at Poison that she was going to pretend that whatever was between us wasn’t important, I’d received a lot of cold shoulders. The shitty move of doing our assignment without me and then acting like she had something stuck up her ass every time I walked by didn’t exactly invite further interaction.

  I sure as hell didn’t expect to have her breathing down my neck when I felt lost and fucked-up inside.

  “Makes sense. Except I saw you sneak out of the locker room while the guys were still walking in. You didn’t even notice that I was standing there by myself. I could’ve been crushed under the excited mob without anyone looking out for me, and you didn’t lecture me once. I figured something must be up.”

  “Babe, can we leave this play-by-play for class or the club? I’m tired, and I just want to go home. Leave it alone.”

  “I thought you didn’t want to be strangers anymore. And now I have questions.”

  “Text them,” I replied, still ignoring her.

  “I don’t have your number,” she called out. “And can you hold up? It’s really hard to chase after you, talk, and carry a toddler on my hip.”

  I turned around to see her standing in the parking lot balancing her little girl on one hip and a big-ass handbag on the other. I hadn’t really looked at the kid when we had been in her house; she’d had her face turned away from me, burrowed into the best friend. Now a foot away from me, I couldn’t help but notice that she was pretty cute, her brown curls all done up in pigtails. She was clean and smiling—not how I often saw kids growing up.