Jockblocked: A Novel (Gridiron Book 2) (24 page)

W
hen I get
up I see Matt has sent me a text. It’s garbled and the time stamp says two am.

Matty:
Im drnk mss u.

Matty:
Plc Matty wtns u.

Matty:
Lv u

Plc? Police Matty? Please Matty? Lv u? I think that’s Love you. I can’t figure the other one out. Apparently drunk Matt doesn’t know where the vowels are. I text him back.

Me:
It’s tomorrow. Do you need a shot of my insulin?

I’m surprised when a response comes right away.

Matty:
No, but I do miss you. I’m still in bed.

Me:
On a scale of one to ten, how drunk are you right now?

Matty:
Two. I’m still burping up the shots from last night.

Me:
That’s super gross. Thanks for sharing.

Matty:
np

Me:
Need me to come over and rub your back?

I figure he’ll be all over this since he was texting me last night, drunkenly asking me to join him at the Gas Station where he was entertaining a recruit with Ace.

Matty:
No. I stink and my head aches. I could get you drunk on my leftover fumes. U never told me Ace could drink entire gallons of booze wo damage
.

Me:
He’s always had a hard head.

Ace could drink an entire team under the table.

Matty:
I need to sleep now. I’ll call you later.

In fact, the next text I get is from Ace.
I want to apologize to you. In person. Can I come over?

Does Ace deserve a chance to say I’m sorry? I suppose he does. But I feel like it’s a last time sort of thing. He doesn’t get to keep doing this over and over, no matter how long we’ve been friends.

Sure,
I text back.
But your apology better be good.

Ace:
Buzz me up.

I make a face. His demand is presumptuous, but whatever. Might as well get this over with. He needs to acknowledge that Matty and I are dating and that we can all get along.

I swing the door open at his knock. He straightens from the doorframe, looking out at me through surprisingly clear eyes.

“I’m amazed you’re still upright. Matty texted me this morning and said he was too drunk to move.”

“Yeah, I want to talk to you about Ives, but before we go into that I want to apologize,” he says as he brushes by me. He takes a seat on the kitchen and re-arranges the other chair so that it’s uncomfortably close to him. Like right between his legs, close to him.

I take the chair and move it back about a foot and sit down. “You think?”

He has the grace to look a little ashamed. “I don’t know what came over me. I care about you a lot, and I guess I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I don’t want to get hurt either. You know how careful I am in my life and I realize that dating Matty is a risk. But…I can’t live my life as if I can’t take a blow. You’re the one who accused me of sitting in my safe little box, not taking chances.”

He winces. “Please don’t tell me that my comments pushed you into Ives’s bed.”

“No, but you’re right. I do have a tendency to be too careful. To some extent, I have to because otherwise it could be dangerous to my health, but I’m almost twenty-two. I’m graduating in a year. There’s going to be failure in my future and heartbreak, whether it’s from a job lost or a person lost. Part of being an adult is learning how to deal with that.” I reach over and take a sip of the tea I brewed for breakfast. “Matty makes me feel really wonderful.”

Ace’s expression grows sickly. I wave my hand downward. “Oh, stop with the disgusted expression. I’m not talking about physical stuff.”

Although, privately, I grin to myself, because Matty has made me feel physically more wonderful than I thought was possible. “I’m talking about the fact that he makes me laugh, that he makes me feel good inside. He’s interesting to talk to. He reads. Taking a risk on Matty makes me think I can take other risks.”

Ace’s eyes run over my face. “You’re changing.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Not for the better,” he says.

My hackles rise. “I thought you came over to apologize, not to say shitty things to me.”

“The truth isn’t a shitty thing to say to you, Luce.”

The nickname Matty uses sounds weird and strange coming out of Ace’s mouth, as if he’s trying to claim a connection that doesn’t belong to him.

“Yes, it kind of is.”

He presses his lips together. “All these years you said you wouldn’t go out with a jock. That the type didn’t interest you.”

“They didn’t,” I insist. “Matty’s different. We talk about a lot of different stuff. Books he’s read, movies, stuff that’s going on in the world.”

“We talk about stuff like that.” Ace directs those words to the floor where he’s currently staring a hole into the tile.

An uncomfortable feeling sets in.

Ace has feelings for you
, I can hear Sutton’s voice in the background.

Slowly, Ace raises his eyes off the floor, and there is so much anguish, all the moisture in my mouth dries up. My hand flies to my lips. “Oh, Ace,” I say through my fingers.
Oh Ace, don’t open your mouth. Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say, please
, I beg silently. Our relationship will change irrevocably.

But he doesn’t heed the warning in my eyes.

“Lucy, I’ve always thought it was going to be you and me. Always,” he says hoarsely, his eyes penny-bright.

His statement makes me angry. Angry because he’s changing the dynamic of our relationship into a form I’m not prepared to deal with. I want to clap my hands over my ears and say I can’t hear him, but I just told him I was growing up. So I have to act like the adult I claim to be.

“You’ve never acted like that. You’ve had so many girlfriends. And when you don’t have girlfriends, you’re constantly sleeping with someone else.” Not to mention the times where there’s considerable overlap. “You practically screwed girls right in front of me. Those aren’t the actions of a guy who thinks I’m his one and only.”

“I know.” He thrusts a hand into his short hair. “I wanted to enjoy being young and playing the field while I could. Kind of get all that shit out of my system so when I settled down, I wouldn’t have the urge. But I always knew you and I would end up together.”

He says it again, as if by mere repetition it will become true. It’s the most insane thing I’ve ever heard, and I tell him that. “That’s crazypants. You can’t do that and expect me to look at you in anything but a friendship light. In fact, you’re lucky I’ve known you so long. I overlook a lot of really crappy things that you’ve done because we’ve been friends since third grade, but I…I could never love you.” It hurts me to say those words to him, but he’s forcing them out of me.

Ace rears back as if I’ve slapped him. He looks at me with wounded eyes that flood me with guilt. “But, Lucy, we
have
been friends forever. I know everything there is to know about you.”

“I’m sorry, Ace, but you don’t.” This is so hard. I wish I wasn’t an adult. I wish I could run from this room and stick my head under my pillow and pretend this was not happening. But I force myself to gut it out, knowing it’ll be over. I’ll mourn this relationship but, in the back of my mind, I must’ve known it was coming because I’m not surprised. Frustrated, resigned, angry. But not surprised. I’ve just never wanted to acknowledge it.

“If you truly knew everything there was to know about me, you wouldn’t have treated me this way. If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t treat me this way. Or if this is how you treat people you love, well,” I swallow before delivering another painful truth, “that’s not going to be good enough for any girl.”

I rub my dry lips together. He sits there like a stone. I don’t know what he’s thinking. Re-evaluating his definition of love? Wishing he’d never shown up here? If I’m honest, Ace and I have been growing apart for a long time before Matty ever appeared in my life. I told myself that he was busy with football and my path took me in an opposite direction, but the reality is we had less and less in common as we grew older.

I don’t know if telling Ace this would help him, but I give it a shot. “We aren’t the same people we were in third grade. There’s no way we could be. If destiny meant for us to be together, we would have been together a long time ago, but I’ve never felt that way about you, and if you search your heart, you would know that the same is true for you. You don’t love me, Ace. I’m not the one for you. I’m your…safe option.” That felt right when I said it. It’s even there in his words. I’m his fallback option. Maybe he uses this so-called love for me to stay emotionally distant with the girls he’s with. But he’s never
loved
me. “I swear to you, you would not act like this with a girl you loved.”

His eyes turn from pained to flinty, and I try to brace myself for whatever horrible thing that’s going to come out of his mouth next. I’m learning Ace has a nasty mouth on him.

“And you think Matty loves you?” Ace laughs harshly. “That he would never cheat on you. That he would never look at another girl with…lust in his eyes.”

And that uncomfortable feeling I had before? It seizes me by the throat. I watch in horror as Ace pulls out his phone. I don’t want to see it. I want to close my eyes and pretend whatever he’s going to show me doesn’t exist. Whatever happened last night doesn’t exist. If I don’t see it, I can go on in my own little world believing Matty was worth the risk.

Ace lays his phone on the table and the picture is so clear and so big I can’t
not
see it. I bite my lips together as Ace flicks his finger. It’s a slideshow of my worst fears.

“All these years you’ve friend-zoned me.” His voice is quiet. Ominous even.

“I never friend-zoned you. We were friends. Are friends,” I correct when his eyes narrow at my Freudian slip of the past tense. “True ones,” I mumble almost absently as I stare at the pictures.

Ace’s voice falls to a whisper. “You fell for Matty Iverson. A blockhead. His best friend is a guy named Hammer. Their favorite thing to do is get loaded and bang jock chasers. Their hobbies include liking Instagram posts of chicks at out of town games. He’s an
idiot
.”

“He reads
Harry
Potter
,” I defend, almost by rote.

“So he read one fucking book a year until he graduated.”

Matty has women on either side of him. In another photo one of them is kissing his cheek. Ace flicks his finger again. Matty’s looking down adoringly into the blonde one’s eyes.
Flick.
The blonde is kissing him on his lips.
Flick.
Matty’s hand is outstretched trying to prevent the picture from being taken, but there’s a lopsided smile on his face and he’s
still
looking at the blonde.

Ace’s finger stabs at the table. “No matter what he promises you, this is what he does. I don’t know what happened last night. I don’t know if she’s still there this morning.”

I swallow again, but there’s nothing in my throat. It’s dry, and every time I gulp it’s like swallowing sand. The tiny bits and pieces scrape and tear fissures into my tissues that grow and grow and grow like the cracks in the desert’s crust—until every part of me is torn asunder, only held together by a slender film of skin.

Ace is relentless. “How come you’re not over there right now? I know when I’m drunk, I’m horny as fuck. Do you know if he’s alone?”

I stand up, hand Ace the phone, and pray my tears don’t fall. Not until Ace leaves. “I don’t know,” I say in a small voice. “But whatever happens between Matty and me isn’t your business. You need to go now.”

I stretch out my arm and point to the door. It doesn’t shake and, for that, I’m thankful. I’ll take whatever victories I can at this moment.

Ace rises, too, but he doesn’t leave. “What are you talking about?” He protests. “I just showed you what a dog Matty is.” As if the pictures would magically transform Matty into the frog and Ace into a prince? In addition to being mean, I hadn’t realized how delusional he was becoming.

“Get out.” My arm is getting so heavy.

“I’m saving you heartbreak here.”

“Get out!” I scream. “
Get out. Get out. Get out. Get out!
”

I push at him until he starts moving, and I keep pushing and slapping and repeating my high-pitched demands until he’s on the other side of the threshold.

“Don’t call me. Don’t text. We’re done.” I slam the door shut.

“You’re shooting the messenger,” he shouts through the closed door.

Ignoring him, I pick up my phone with shaking hands.

I’m coming over
, I manage to type out, but I don’t press send. No. That would give him time to put her in some suitcase.

I
get dressed in a hurry
. Ace has thankfully taken off. I swear if I saw him, I would kick him in the balls. Twice.

And then in the face. Despite the distance between Matty’s house and my apartment building, the time flies. Or rather, I do as I sprint toward the Playground. The snow crunches under my boots. I almost lose it around the quad because someone forgot to salt a small patch of ice. But I make it to his house in one piece.

Panting, I don’t even pause to knock on the door. Oh no. I fling it open because these assholes never lock their doors.

Hammer’s sitting on the sofa.

“Hey, Lucy.” He gives me a wave.

“Better give your boy a ten-second warning, because I’m going in,” I yell as I race upstairs.

The last thing I see before reaching Matty’s door is Hammer’s shocked and confused face. I wrench on the knob and throw the door aside. It bangs against the wall. The lump on the mattress barely moves.

I storm over to the bed and rip the covers back…to reveal a hungover Matty wearing clothes from the night before. I can tell it’s the same clothes because it’s so clearly obvious he slept in them.

The T-shirt is practically twisted around his neck. His jeans are pulled down far enough that I can see at least half of his underwear-covered ass. His left foot is bare but the right one still has a sock hanging off it. It looks like he managed to toe one of them off and got halfway done with the other before giving up.

I stumble backwards, nearly dizzy with relief.

He lifts his head and there are creases on his cheek from the sheets.

“Goldie.” He smiles happily and pats the bed beside his body. “I was just dreaming about you.”

I ignore his invitation and walk over to his desk, collapsing in the rolling chair situated in front of it. My heart is beating so rapidly I’m afraid it’s going to jump out and flop onto the floor like a dying fish.

“It’s too much for me. You’re too much for me,” I gasp out.

Matty struggles into a sitting position and gives me a lopsided smile. “Too much what? Greatness?”

For once his teasing doesn’t come off as funny, but irritatingly arrogant.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I bend over and place my head on my knees, trying to catch my breath. I can’t remember the last time I took a glucose measurement. I feel weak and sickly. Hot and sweaty. It’s either I’m crashing or I’m experiencing physical side effects of my heartbreak. Maybe it’s some dangerous combination of them both.

“Do what?” he asks in bewilderment.

“I can’t take this risk with you anymore. My heart can’t take it.” I rub my palm across my chest as if I can eradicate the pain with enough friction.

I don’t know whether the pain is forming because I’m breaking up with Matty or because I dated him in the first place. I always knew this day was going to come.
He’s going to hurt you
was number one on the risk assessment. But stupidly, foolishly, I’d kept decreasing the weight I’d afforded that particular item on the list.

The truth is you can’t really prepare yourself for what it feels like because you never know how much anything hurts until the wound is inflicted. Until the knife is in your belly.

If I stay with him, he’ll only hurt me more. Just like my mom hurt my dad over and over.

I sit up and stare at him, into his precious blue eyes that I know I’m going to be seeing for years when I’m dreaming. When I’m just sitting and drinking coffee, I’ll see them. In that cloudy space right before I fall and asleep and right before I wake up, I’ll see him. It’s going to take a long time to get over him. A long time.

What did I expect, though? This is how I knew it would all play out. Oh, I didn’t have the exact scenario right, but it all ended the same. Safe may be boring, but it sure as hell isn’t as painful.

“You and me, Matty. We’re done.”

“What…what happened? I told you,” he stutters. His brain isn’t firing on all cylinders, and it’s taking him a moment, or five, to catch up. “I told you I wasn’t going to talk to you about Ace anymore.”

Still not with me. I lay it out as plain as can be. “Ace took some pictures of you kissing a girl last night.”

His face moves from confusion to comprehension to anger. “Goldie, I was drunk off my ass last night.”

The careless statement, the accusation that lurks behind his words that
I’m
the unreasonable one here, only fuels my rage. I feel myself shaking and this time I know it’s not because my blood sugars are out of whack. It’s because of
him
. Because I took a chance on
him
and he was supposed to understand this. He was supposed to act like he cared.

“I don’t care that you were drunk! If I was drunk, I would not be out kissing someone and getting my picture taken. That has never happened to me in all my years here at Western, in all my years of drinking.” I fling my arm out. “Even the night I drank so much my freshman year that Sutton had to call 911 because I went into a coma, that didn’t happen. I danced. I drank. I passed out. I didn’t press my lips against some random person!”

“I didn’t ask for her to kiss me. I didn’t want her to kiss me,” he insists. He swings his long, powerful legs over the side of the mattress and for a moment I’m distracted. His shirt is still askew, framing his defined abs like a half-drawn curtain. My eyes are drawn to the light dusting of hair that arrows from his belly button into his groin.

My mouth becomes dry for another reason.

He’s so damned sexy, and for a moment, my resolve wavers. I cover my eyes so I can’t be tempted anymore. A spot of self-loathing gets mixed into the cocktail of churning emotions, and suddenly, I’m just so tired. I want to be done here. I push to my feet and force my explanation out.

“I know you didn’t, but the point of the matter, Matt, is that your lifestyle is only going to get worse when you go to the NFL. There’s only going to be more women, more road games, more time for me to worry. Every sports blog, every forum, every newspaper is full of stories of pro athletes screwing around on their wives and their girlfriends. I don’t want that to be my life, and, really, you deserve someone who’s stronger than me—who isn’t as afraid of risks as I am,” I finish drearily. I’m disgusted at myself. At Matty. At Ace. It’s an ugly reality that I’m facing. I don’t like myself much right now, but at some point, I’ve got to protect myself.

“So you’re doing this for my own good is what you’re saying?” Matty’s own anger is beginning to fire.

I’ve burned through anger and now I’m swimming in regret.

“You can take it whatever way you want.”

“How big of you,” he growls. “This stuff you’re spewing is some of the worst bullshit I’ve ever heard. If you don’t want to be with me, then have the balls to say it outright. Don’t be mealy-mouthed about it.”

I can barely get the words out, but I say them. “I don’t want to be with you.”

Matty stands up then—a giant in his room towering over me. Angry is too soft of a word for what’s on his face. I’ve never seen him like this.

His words come out sharp, like a knife, and ice cold. “Get the hell out of my room.”

Unlike Ace, I don’t have to be told twice. I race out of there so fast that I’m sprinting by the time I hit the main floor. Hammer’s standing at the base of the stairs, but I can’t muster up even a polite goodbye.