Stars (Penmore #1) Page 8

  I arrived at work still on a high.

  The Herons had beaten San Diego 28-3.

  I had always known Grayson was talented, but getting to watch him play in an amazing stadium surrounded by an enthusiastic audience decked out in yellow and blue, without anything obstructing my view, was overwhelming. Apparently, I didn’t really need to worry about standing out or needing to know a whole lot about football to sit in the front row with friends.

  The pure exuberance and enthusiasm surrounded me, embraced me into the whirlpool of football fandom before I could even begin to worry about the statistics of quarterback injuries or the number of people who could see me cheering and screaming Grayson’s name at the top of my lungs. The wild sea of fans rose like fierce waves when the players scored a touchdown, pulling me along for the ride. The sounds were exhilarating—the roars of victory, the shouts from the cheerleaders and the grunts from the players on the field.

  I was cuddled up to Keeley surrounded by Herons supporters, waving pom-poms like my life depended on it, caught up in everyone’s excitement. I did have a front row seat to the girls who were scantily clad, the number 27 painted on their cheeks, who kept cheering at the top of their lungs, “Go Gray! We love you, Gray!” But I wasn’t really bothered by it like I thought I would be. Being able to take it all in—the game, the stadium, the drinks and the crowded atmosphere—I was finally able to clearly see that their behavior was simply part of the very large spectacle that was college football.

  I realized that everything seemed more fantasy than reality. I recognized that these girls were cheering the new super-human character that Gray was pretending to be. He had shed his Spiderman costume for pads and a jersey. His new costume complimented his agility, speed, strength and ability to fly over mere mortals. But he had simply replaced a spider with the number 27. He was no less magnificent, but the Grayson Waters on the football field that all these girls cared about was a make-believe persona. I suddenly knew why he cared about seeing me cheering him on. I wasn’t excited over some fictional character; I was excited for him and his hard work. I knew what was under the costume.

  All right, so maybe I didn’t know what was under the costume.

  I mean, I did on occasion from my bedroom catch sight of mini-but-very-well-endowed Grayson, but the way my body ached I must sadly confess that I have yet to gain up-close-and-personal knowledge of what is going on under his clothes. I did, however, know how he liked his coffee. How much he hated talking about his dad and how protective he was of his mom. I knew that I was privy to what counted. So just like when I smiled and laughed when Gray pretended to be Spiderman, I couldn’t help but smile and enjoy his performance as number 27.

  When Gray threw a beautiful sixty-yard pass to Leyton, scoring the final touchdown of the game in the last seconds of the fourth quarter, I was swept up in the excitement of the crowd. Unlike every other game I’ve ever been to, I didn’t run away before everything was over. I knew I would probably end up being late and have to change into my uniform in the storeroom again. But I didn’t mind. If I fall in the mop pail as I pull on my leather pants, I know it’ll have been worth it. Worth watching Gray being lifted by his team and carried off. Worth getting to experience the first time Gray saw my face cheering him on after a win, his quick grin that followed and seeing how the fans react to victory. I also couldn’t help but smile and stare for a few extra minutes at the last text message he sent me.

  So if we win, will you finally agree to go out with me?

  I was finally ready to tell him yes.

  I have been so shy each time he’s asked me, scared that I might say or do something that will reveal I’ve been lying to him. Maybe even remind him of the girl I was before. But after the energy of the day, I’m ready to put my cares aside.

  I didn’t feel like I couldn’t fit in anymore.

  I figure I’ll text him as soon as I’m on my first break.

  And when we go on our first date, I’ll tell him all about my parents.

  As I make my way to the back storeroom, I give a quick wave and smile to Nate. I notice that he’s frowning at me, but I figure I’ll quiz him once I’m changed. As soon as I leave the room, I needn’t ask him what’s wrong. Marissa comes barreling toward me. “It’s a game day. If I can’t trust you to get here on time on a game day, I would like you to tell me now.”

  “I’m so terribly sorry. I have never left any of the games at the same time as everyone else before. I didn’t realize how long it would take for me to get here.”

  “So, you’re stupid, is that it? Have a hired an idiot as well as a child?”

  I want to quit. With insults like that, I want to tell her to shove her fucking job right up her fucking ass. Of course I don’t, because I don’t think I’ve told anyone to shove anything. In my life. Not even Stacey Cain, the high school head bitch. And she used to call me names far worse than stupid. Not to mention I only recently told my dad and grandma Mimi that I had a job and they both cried and told me how relieved they were. They had apparently been worrying about me, and knowing I was busy with work, school and making friends had offered them peace of mind. I was willing to put up with shit from Marissa if it meant I kept my job and provided the two most important people in my life with comfort.

  Then it dawns on me.

  Maybe someone has mentioned seeing Grayson and me together at Penmore.

  In all our times drinking coffee, laughing in lectures and sharing palm kisses, I had completely forgotten that Nate had said Gray and Marissa were sleeping together. Just the thought that Grayson might still be seeing Marissa causes me to feel like a sharp knife is buried in my collarbone, its serrated edge tearing me a part. Suddenly, I feel like the bad guy. Apparently, the new me was not only a liar, but also a boyfriend stealer. A home-wrecker. I imagine I would be just as upset finding out that the guy I was sleeping with might be seeing one of my employees. “It won’t happen again,” I tell her quietly with a hint of pain. Hopefully, she understands I wasn’t only talking about arriving late.

  *****

  “Want to tell me why you’ve been looking like someone kidnapped your dog all shift?” Nate asks as I sit up on a bar stool at the end of the evening.

  My feet are killing me. I’m definitely regretting trying to wear my work shoes all day and all night.

  I decide to ignore Nate’s question.

  I don’t really feel like telling him how sad I am about Grayson and Marissa.

  All night, I’ve been imagining Grayson kissing Marissa, and not just her palm, causing my stomach to turn. I’m lucky to have only needed to go to the bathroom once this evening to empty its contents. Expelling the flavor of inadequacy and guilt.

  “You aren’t still sulking about Marissa’s name-calling earlier, are you, Parky?” he asks, flicking me with water from behind the bar to catch my attention.

  I continue with my silent treatment while slipping off my boots, rubbing my aching feet and calves.

  “She gets that way with everyone, you know. She is super stressed about doing a bad job lately. I think it has something to do with the strip joint a town over going bust. She’s probably just worried about not making the bills. Don’t take it personally. I was an ungrateful brat last week when I asked to cash out.”

  “I think it is personal,” I whisper, trying to wipe away the single tear with shoulder.

  “Babe, I think you’re wrong. The more I think about it, no way would Marissa hire me if Gray were her man. Gray fucking hates me. Hates everything to do with our dad. I think she’s probably just his friend and you’re worrying too much.”

  “I guess I’m not ready to risk it,” I say before grabbing my boots and making my way toward the exit.

  I don’t hear Nate’s soft reply: “You have to be prepared to risk it all to gain the best one of us.”

  GRAYSON

  I thought Mr. Simons’s goons would have taken the hint when I drove off from the stadium after the game. I didn’t anticipate that
they would be waiting for me after my first class back at school.

  I was so grateful Parker wasn’t with me.

  I haven’t heard from her since the game day and I really want to ask her why she isn’t calling me back. I did not want to have that conversation in front of debt collectors that would result in having to talk to her about my father.

  She was already so quiet and hesitant in discussing anything about her home life or her history.

  The last thing I wanted to do was scare her away with stories of my mob-attracting dad. Hell, part of the reason I was so attracted to her was the absence of drama.

  “Mr. Simons is requesting a meeting with you, Grayson,” goon one tells me as he approaches in his tight black T-shirt and black jeans in the middle of the quad.

  Goon two stoically waits by their outlandish sparkling black sedan.

  “Mr. Simons will have to learn to take NO for an answer.”

  “We will wait until you have a moment available, of course,” he states quietly, moving off to the side.

  PARKER

  So I hadn’t heard from or seen Grayson in five days.

  Not that I was counting.

  Or staring at his past text messages.

  And in no way did I stare forlornly at his empty chair during my last sociology class.

  I was completely fine with having no clue as to why he was all in my face about going on a date and didn’t bother putting up a fight for me to answer his last question that seemed to burn in my pocket.

  I wasn’t, at all, replaying Nate’s and my conversation through my mind, worrying that I made the wrong decision about Marissa and not replying ‘yes’ to Grayson.

  When Nate asked if I wanted to go to Francesca’s Ristorante again this evening, I didn’t for a moment feel sad that I wouldn’t be having dinner with Grayson. It didn’t even cross my mind that this could have been our first date. I know how lucky I am to have built such an amazing friendship with Nate. Therefore, I of course jumped at the chance. I was completely ecstatic that only friends wanted to take me to possibly the most romantic restaurant in town. It was less pressure. I could enjoy myself more because it meant I could relax. Eat as many garlic bread rolls as I want without the fear of looking gluttonous.

  As I began to get dressed for the evening, I decided I was going to wear one of my happiest outfits. Because I was. Happy. Completely immune to Grayson’s absence in my life.

  If my black dress was a little tighter than I normally wore that was because I knew it could be a bit chilly at Francesca’s and tight dresses always made me feel warmer. And so I decided to wear my new stiletto heels because Nate was tall, and it was always easier to talk to someone when you could look them in the eye. In no way was I dressing up in case I ran into Grayson. I didn’t care in the slightest if he saw me and rued the day he decided to stop messaging.

  And okay, so maybe as soon as Nate picked me up, I slid into his car and, when faced with the very similar physique of the man of my dreams, all of my self-talk about being happy and not feeling sad or rejected hit a wall and I burst into tears. Fortunately, by the time we pulled into the parking lot, I had been able to refresh my make-up and start all over again with my pretend happy internal monologue.

  We sit at the same table we always do, and I’m finally able to give Nate a genuine smile after he beguiles me with his latest conquest story. Before the garlic bread rolls arrive, I glance over Nate’s shoulder and I’m captured in a furious storm of deep blue. Grayson doesn’t bother saying anything. He simply gestures with his head and walks outside. I’m so grateful to see him I want to weep all over again. Instead, I grab my small clutch and race out after him. I imagine that Nate will watch out the large windows and I won’t need to explain my dramatic exit.

  GRAYSON

  Shit, I was pissed. And finally I was ready for a confrontation. Dealing with my father’s associates and trying to handle that bullshit had already been pushing me to the edge.

  His bookies and the slime who worked for Mr. Simons started hounding me everywhere I went this week. They were waiting outside my apartment and following me all around school. It had taken way too long to detach from the poisonous tentacles that my father had somehow helped latch onto my life. I was also extremely frustrated with avoiding phone calls from my mom so she didn’t know the danger my dad had put us in.

  Trying to get that shit organized quickly so it also didn’t tarnish anything good that had started to develop between Stars and me had my head pounding for days.

  I finally put it all behind me, met with the disgusting Mr. Simons in his seedy pawnshop, used the last of my savings to cover my father’s fucking repayments and agreed that if my father contacted me, I would call.

  Thank fuck the scholarship covered my living expenses and Andy owned our apartment; otherwise, I would be destitute right now and moving my shit into a homeless shelter.

  I also had enough attitude left in me to remind Mr. Simons there would be no need to speak with my mother or anyone else in regard to my dad and future reimbursements.

  If my father came to me, I wouldn’t hesitate to send him to straight to Mr. Simons if it kept Ma and Parker safe. Then I went to get my girl. I knew her dorm thanks to a few observant freshman and a few girls willing to give me directions after a smile. Just as I approach her building, I get to see her dressed like a fucking supermodel and sliding into his car. Nathan Waters, the illegitimate child of my dad’s mistress. To my mom, he was a reminder of the fool she had been to believe Dad’s lies. Proof that even before he stated his vows, he was lying every fucking minute he spoke to her. But to me, he was just another fucking poisonous tentacle attached to my life thanks to dear old Dad. I follow them to Francesca’s, my favorite restaurant, and watch as she sits across from him, smiling at him as he tells some story.

  I know she sees me as soon as I walk in the door. She appeared so calm before and now her whole body has become rigid.

  I gesture with my head for her to follow me.

  I was ready to count to ten. If she wasn’t outside by then, I’d leave them to their romantic evening.

  I’m barely at four when I hear her join me outside. I figure I’ll ask her one more time. She explains why she won’t go out with me or she doesn’t. Either way, I walk. There are probably twenty football groupies willing to be my date tonight. I was done chasing someone who wasn’t interested in me. Especially if she thought she could two-time me with my bloody brother. “Want to tell me something, Parker? Maybe something you probably should have told me when we first met?”

  “It isn’t what it looks like. Nate and I, we’re just friends,” she pleads, staring directly into my eyes.

  “Okay, so if I am honestly to believe that, then why? Why do you keep saying no to me? If I’m not watching you right now on a fucking date with my fucking brother…then why are you so against going out with ME?”

  Parker takes a breath then softly states, “I need my job.”

  I almost laugh, but she looks so sad and sincere.

  Meanwhile, I’m taken back. That was not what I was expecting. Here I was worried that she was in love with my brother. And it’s about a job? “Babe, you date me I’m not going to expect you to stop working. It’s no longer the fifties, I get that women like to have their own life. We’ll date around your shifts,” I tell her, trying not to chuckle.

  Her eyes go sky-bound before she says, “Gray, you don’t get it. I work for Marissa.”

  “You work for Maris? Doing what?”

  “At Lucky’s. I’ve been working there for probably two to three months,” she replies, taking a step back and putting distance between us, as if knowing the sudden images that run through my mind.

  I can’t help but see red and say, “No fucking way. Please, please tell me you are not walking around in those fuck-me-boots for every guy on the team to fucking see.”

  “Gray, it’s part of the uniform.”

  “I think you need to quit.”

  �
�Gray, I’m not quitting, which is also why we are not dating,” she tells me, taking an additional step back.

  “Okay, we will revisit the you not quitting later. But please tell me why the fuck you working at Lucky’s means we can’t date?” I ask, closing some of the distance she had started to create between us.

  “Marissa,” she says firmly.

  “I’m pretty sure Maris let me off the hook to date her employees a while ago,” I tell her, trying to hold in my chuckle again as I take in her serious expression.

  I’m suddenly really glad Maris and I had that conversation.

  Parker, however, seems shocked by the news and whispers, “She did what?”

  “She told me she didn’t care. Actually, she laughed at the idea of my attempting… Oh. Shit. It makes total sense now. She calls you the mouse.” The whole evening of Marissa laughing at the idea of me pursuing Stars makes me want to shake my head and text Marissa right now. Fuck, Maris had been right; the mouse had run away from me. Marissa just didn’t know how much I liked to chase.

  “Seriously? She sleeps with you then doesn’t care if she works with girls who also sleep with you?” Parker asks, shock lacing her voice.

  “Sleep with? What the fuck?” I did not expect that bullshit. “Babe, Maris and I are just friends.”

  “Sure,” she replies sarcastically, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Fuck, she is hot angry. Standing there, fuming and pushing her tits up with her arms. I can’t help it. I walk toward her and grab her hips with both my hands. Pulling her pelvis into mine, crushing her arms and breasts into my hard chest. I had been keeping my hands off her for the last four weeks, and I was over being the gentleman. I move my mouth until it’s barely a breath away from hers. “Babe, Maris and I are just friends. Just like you and my brother,” I tell her, inching our faces closer together. “I wouldn’t be outside a restaurant fighting for you if I was into Marissa.”

  “Don’t you mean fighting with,” she asks breathlessly, her eyes shifting to my lips.

  I’m hoping she’s struggling to focus on this stupid discussion, like I am. Lost in how it feels to finally have my hands tightly grasping her skin, my warm breath lightly pulsating against her mouth.