Ballsy Page 6
If your twenty-something-year-old fiancée can’t go on a weekend getaway with you without needing some lie to justify it to her father, marriage might not be such a good idea.
That’s what I want to say.
That’s what I should say.
But honestly? I don’t have it in me. I can predict how Baylor will take something like that: poorly.
Still, the escalation of the timeline is alarming. I consider sending Joey a quick text because I could use the backup in trying to undo this. Then I remember how we left things off just an hour or so again and I discard the thought. She won’t be in any mood or good frame of mind to deal with this either.
“So?” Baylor looks at me expectantly. “What do you think?”
“Well, I agree with you that a big church with all the bells and whistles feels unnecessary and expensive. But… eloping in Vegas? A week from now?” I try to use my most neutral tone so he doesn’t feel attacked. As one can imagine, this isn’t the easiest topic to take the position I’m taking. “Why the... rush, I guess?”
A cloud of anger darkens Baylor’s expression. “Dude, what the hell?”
“What?”
“I thought you’d be happy for me. Rachel and I getting married. Next weekend, yes. Why the fuck not?”
I try to remember when Baylor wasn’t like this. When he was fun and funny and didn’t induce so much stress. When I felt like I could speak my mind without sugar coating anything or having to use a filter or kid gloves. What the fuck happened?
“I support you.” It’s easier to get along. I’m choosing the path of least resistance because in the end, my opinion won’t change his mind. Like I said, I don’t have it in me to deal with another meltdown or a struggle session. “I was just… I figured you’d appreciate hearing my thoughts.”
“Yeah.” Baylor gets up without looking at me. “Thanks, dude.”
He leaves my room without saying anything else, letting the door slam behind him on his way out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JOEY
I’m not sure what went down between Baylor and Kieran after Kieran vamoosed out of my room last night, but it’s clear something happened. Any conversation that takes place uses me as a buffer between the two.
I’ll be the first to say I’m getting too old for this shit. Twenty-two and already I’m at that stage with their antics.
Go figure.
We’re in the home team’s arena, watching the field professionals get things in order for the game tonight. If things stay true to tradition, it’ll be a slam dunk win for our team. Even the crew running over the grass and testing the lights seem aware of that. They’re lacking that pre-game spirit in their step.
Or maybe I’m projecting.
“The only thing that doesn’t suck about these assholes and their setup are those cheerleaders,” Baylor quips. I think he’s trying to lighten the mood.
Conversely, that’s one comment he can make that does get my attention. Mainly because I’m curious about how Kieran will respond.
“Hmm,” I say, the way I usually do when they start talking about women in front of me.
Baylor laughs and slaps Kieran on the shoulder playfully. Like it’s all a sport, which it is, but still.
Say something, Kieran.
“Not my scene,” Kieran finally responds. His tone is as noncommittal as his expression. For a brief second, I think I see him steal a peek at me but it happens so quickly (if it happened at all) I can’t be sure.
“Since when?” Baylor challenges. He has on that face that screams ‘I’m calling bullshit.’ Though he doesn’t say it, of course.
Is he trying to goad Kieran into saying something that will prove nothing is going on between me and him?
“I’m going to go for a walk,” I announce, rising to my feet. “It’s nice out.”
Okay, so ‘nice’ is a generous way of putting it. The day is a gray skyscape that perfectly captures my emotions, but that is neither here nor there. After two hours of witnessing and occasionally refereeing the stilted conversation between those two knuckleheads, I figure I can use some time to myself. Some privacy will also do me some good as I try to parse how I feel about everything that happened with Kieran last night. It’s a minor miracle I’m able to be this close to him without sputtering or making a fool of myself.
Let’s keep it that way.
I grab the rail and sweep my hand over it as I make my way to the aisle. Kieran’s stare burns holes through my back. I’m assuming that’s the intensity I feel, the one that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but I’m not going to turn around to see.
“Hey!” Baylor calls.
I pause and sigh. Of course, for that I will need to turn back.
“Yeah?”
Baylor rains an energy drink on his face, getting about five percent of it in his mouth. The rest douses his nose and neck. He looks like an asshole doing it, but what else is new?
I just want to stress how bad my current mood is. None of my thoughts should be used as an indictment of my character.
“Baylor?” I tap my foot against the metal floor. A cold wind blows, sending my hair in disarray all over my face. “You need something?”
“We have a game in like an hour or so.” He stares at me like that’s supposed to mean something to me.
“Yeah, so?”
“What about the pre-game food or whatever?”
“The equipment crew, the coach, and my assistant are all well-equipped in handling a power bar you should all eat before going out on the field,” I deadpan.
That earns me a chortle from Kieran. I ignore it, and so does Baylor, who looks considerably less amused.
“Well, I wanted to share something with you.” He screws the cap back into the bottle of the energy drink he emptied and tosses it off over the railing in front of him. Again, like the epitome of an entitled jackass. Under his breath, but just audible enough he has to know I can hear him, he adds, “Before you go brood or PMS or what-the-fuck-ever.”
“Dude,” Kieran says.
Ah, so he is alive after all.
“Oh, fuck off.” I pivot and start marching down the rest of the way until I get to the steps leading down to the exit.
“Wait, Joey!” Kieran yells. He chases after me, grabbing me by the wrist and forcing me to an abrupt stop. “He’s in a bad mood because of Rachel. You know how it’s been for him.”
I roll my eyes. “We have to stop giving Baylor passes because of that… thing.”
“Now isn’t the time to be taking stands on those grounds,” Kieran says gently. “Hey.”
I look into his eyes. He’s so earnest, so kind, even though I have been a complete bitch, it’s enough to soften me.
Just a little.
I shake my head and offer him the tiniest smile. “Hey.”
He returns my smile with a big, broad one of his own. “Give him a little leeway. He also probably wants to share the latest developments with you, so… Word to the wise, better to brace yourself. It’s the kind kids these days call a ‘doozy’.”
“Uh-oh.” My smile freezes on my face. “Do I want to know what he or she or they have done now?”
“Hey, you two!” Baylor calls.
Like marionettes, we both turn to look at once. My brother jumps to his feet and nears us.
Instinctively, we both take a step away from each other.
“Don’t forget about me,” Baylor says. “Now, where were we? Joey, you’ll never guess.”
I really won’t.
“Yeah?” I say cautiously. “What’s up?”
“I told Kieran about this last night but wanted to tell you in person rather than over text…” He takes a deep breath and breaks out his all-American, all-star smile that has caused many an all-American sweethearts to swoon. (Rachel not included.) His blue eyes, standing in such stark contrast with the rest of the grey-fueled backdrop we find ourselves in, sparkle. The image of him is such a reminder of the Baylor I kn
ow and love, the big brother who was always stepping up to take care of me when we were growing up and Mom had to work. My pain-in-the-ass but fiercely loyal older brother who is the most dependable person I have ever met.
“I’m listening,” I say.
The wind blows again and I happen to be glancing at Kieran when it does. The way his hair shifts, splashing all over his face, makes my heart skip a beat. It can’t be normal to be this into someone. It just can’t. And despite the fact I keep noticing just how hot he is, that’s nothing compared to the connection I feel with him—the invisible little bonds that tie us to different people we meet in the course of our lives and that, against all odds, match every single point of compatibility you don’t even know you have.
“Are you?” Baylor flickers his gaze, alternating between Kieran and me.
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “What’s up?”
“Well…” He looks like he expects drumrolls to sound off in the background. “I had the best idea yesterday. What if instead of putting the wedding off for ages and spending a massive amount on money on what’s essentially me buying dinner for everyone I know, what if instead of all that I invite Rachel to come to Vegas with us next week and elope?”
One could probably hear a needle drop a thousand miles away with the silence that follows.
I don’t even know where to begin. I just don’t.
Yesterday he was blowing hot, tomorrow he’ll be blowing cold, but one thing you can count on is that the temperature in the relationship that exists between Baylor and Rachel will never be fucking normal.
The words form, dangling at the tip of my tongue, how outrageous the idea is. How it’s a mistake. How he should be running in the opposite direction of all of that rather than scrambling headfirst into the biggest cluster-fuck he can possibly conjure.
Kieran’s staring intently at me. The impression I get is that I should keep my opinion out of it.
“Joey?” Baylor waves his hand in front of my face.
“Wow,” I finally say.
“Good wow or bad wow?” From the tone of his voice, I guess that he already knows. He inhales sharply. “Kieran told me he doesn’t think it’s a good idea. Don’t tell me you agree with him.”
“Well…” I trail off, scouring my mind for the magic words that’ll convey exactly what I mean in the nicest possible way.
All of the recent events with Rachel might paint a picture that makes it seem like I’m being too harsh on her—the jealous or just inexplicably hostile younger sister who hates her brother’s choice of partner. That’s a common thing that happens. You can even gain sympathy points if you frame it like that to people who don’t know all of the players involved.
But the thing is, I know I’m right. I’m a damn good sister and I’m considerate of Baylor, even when it’s to my own detriment. I lived through all the thousand little slights Rachel threw my way. I witnessed her inappropriate behavior with other guys with my own eyes. I know she’s not hiding any good intentions but rather blatantly displaying all of her bad ones.
And somehow, that’s obvious to every single person ever except Baylor.
So, no, the prospect of him hastening their wedding doesn’t sit right with me. At all.
“I don’t think you should do that,” I say quietly.
Baylor inhales sharply again. “Why don’t you like her?”
“Have you even figured out what happened to her yesterday? Do you want to live like this for the rest of your life? Being your fiancée’s keeper? Not having any peace? Besides, Vegas is so...” I search for the word, “tacky. Do you think that’s what Mom has always dreamed of with either one of us?”
Invoking our mother gets his attention. “Joey, that’s not fair.”
“Maybe it isn’t.” That’s right, I’ll acknowledge it. Who knows, maybe I am being unfair. “I just thought you should know how I really think.”
“Is this about Vegas or is it about Rachel?”
My gaze flickers to Kieran, whose expression is inscrutable.
“It’s about Vegas,” I say carefully.
Baylor purses his lips together. “Well then. I guess I know how both of you feel.”
“We support you no matter what you decide to do,” Kieran chimes in. He pats my brother on the back, then hooks his arm around Baylor’s neck and pulls him in for a tight hug. “You know that, man.”
But Baylor’s glum mood doesn’t appear to be going anywhere. He mutters something about appreciating that and then he’s off, taking the steps two at a time, until he’s at the landing down below. He disappears into the visiting team’s locker room, leaving Kieran and me all by ourselves.
“That went well,” I quip.
“I should have warned you before we met up today.” He stares off in the path my brother took. “I should check up on him.” Kieran pulls his phone out of his pocket. “And get ready for the game. We have some serious ass to whoop. You’re gonna watch, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I say simply. I want to say more. I want to make some reference to last night, to let him know that despite being disappointed he left, that I’m still here. My feelings haven’t changed.
“Good.”
Kieran gives me a lingering look. I meet his gaze straight on. I could get lost in those green eyes of yours, mister. I want to say that, or anything that’ll lighten the tension that’s thickening the air around us, but the words don’t come.
And then he’s off, following in Baylor’s wake. The opportunity to say anything evaporates like it was never there in the first place.
CHAPTER NINE
JOEY
What was supposed to be the easiest win of the season turns into the most embarrassing loss. The kickoff was a disaster and throughout the whole thing it just kept getting worse. I could feel the tension rising in the crowd, from the moment the encouraging hollering turned to offensive shouts—almost all of them aimed at Baylor.
When the end-game buzzer goes off I find myself alarmingly close to becoming a puddle on the floor. I’ve cowered lower and lower on my seat, as if subconsciously shielding myself the longer the Cardinals’ slaughter went on.
Our crowds usually cheer and applaud at the end of a game, even if we don’t come out victorious. Not this time. There’s not even booing or anger. It’s just deafening, defeated silence.
I wait for the guys outside the back exit of the visiting team’s locker room. One by one, the team comes out, freshly showered. Each one harbors barely concealed anger. Even Leroy, who’s the team clown, fails to mask his frustration.
“You need to talk to your brother,” he says, pulling me in for a bear hug. “I don’t know what the fuck that was out there or who the hell it was, but it wasn’t good, and it wasn’t Baylor.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I know.”
“I think he’s going to get shitfaced tonight. Might wanna wait until tomorrow or when the coast is clear to talk to him.”
I draw back and stare at Leroy. I level with him, despite him having a good foot on me in stature. “Is he drinking? In the locker room?”
“Last I saw…”
I’m fuming so much it’s a wonder smoke isn’t billowing out of my ears.
“Is Kieran with him?” I demand.
“Whoa, Jo, don’t shoot the messenger.” Leroy raises his hands in the air like a perp facing an armed cop. “And yes, he is.”
All of a sudden, an exhaustion that feels like it’s been accumulating for millennia blankets over me. I’m tapped out.
“Thanks for letting me know,” I tell Leroy before stomping off to the hotel.
It’s been hours since my last meal. As a nutritionist, I know better than to stay this long without eating, but I can’t work up an appetite. So I won’t. We’ll eat when we’re on the road, which might be later tonight or might be tomorrow. Who the hell knows anything anymore? I’ll text Coach Allen or one of his assistants later to find out. For now, I just need some good ol’ fashioned wallowing.
Hmm…
Planning for a little R&R injects some spirit back into me. I take a long, hot shower, change into my favorite pajamas, and turn the AC on as low as it’ll go. I crawl under the sheets, grateful to have thought ahead and brought my biggest, baddest comforter along. The weight of all of those layers on top of me in this Siberia I’ve turned my room into brings me some much-needed peace and calm.
When I finally settle on which movie I want to cozy up to tonight (The Princess Bride—that’s the only right choice in any situation, ever, no room for arguments or dissent), I hear a knock at the door.
My heart races. I really don’t want to be anyone’s security blanket today. And I absolutely do not have the bandwidth to put out any fires, either.
With rising trepidation, I climb out of my little nest. Something tells me it’s Baylor. It has to be. There’s no one else who’ll come darken my doorstep at this hour and under these circumstances. I bet Rachel has done yet another thing that’s got him worked up and he’s seeking me out to do something about it. Because he can’t, and he feels powerless, and his only hope since he can’t control that whole situation with her is that maybe I’ll have a solution to offer up.
But I don’t. Like I said before, I’m all tapped out.
I steel myself and mentally prepare to boot whoever is on the other side of the door out.
The person knocks again.
I whip the door open. “Jeez, I’m—”
It’s Kieran.
My jaw hinges open and I imagine I look like a drooling idiot, but I can’t help myself. It’s pretty safe to say I was not expecting him.
Here.
Now.
“What—”
He silences me with a kiss.
I break away. “Should we be doing this?”
“Shouldn’t we?”
He’s so close to me. And good God he smells so good—woodsy and fresh and just man.
“I—” This time I cut myself off because I’m not sure how to articulate what I want to say. I sigh. “I’m tired of fighting this.”