Give Me You Page 17

  This was the life I was supposed to be living. SoCal was just some weird mind-fuck of a detour.

  There’s a party for the team at a swanky local bar and I’m one of the last to arrive. There are four goalies on the team and I’ve made nice with one. Tall and lanky, Sebastian Stevens is a no-bullshit type from Canada and he can drink like no one I’ve ever seen.

  We’re pounding them back while the rest of the guys practically molest women on the dance floor when a mirage appears in my periphery.

  She’s wearing a tight green dress that barely covers her thighs and there’s not a man in the bar who hasn’t registered her presence on some level.

  “Fuck me running,” Sebastian mutters between shots. “Where the hell has she been all my life?”

  I stare at her in disbelief until she smiles at me. It is her, then. Her hair is longer and darker than I remember, but it’s her.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know,” I tell him. He gapes at me like I’m fucking with him.

  “Skylar,” she says once she’s within earshot, her full pouty lips wrapping seductively around my name. “I heard you might be here.”

  Sebastian shakes his head. “Lucky bastard,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Fallon,” I say evenly. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  Someone must’ve jumped me outside the bar. Someone with a sledgehammer.

  My entire body hurts in a way I can’t fully comprehend. My skin hurts. Even my teeth hurt. I groan as I attempt to sit up and my rib cage screams in protest.

  “What the hell?” I rub my neck in an attempt to loosen the sore muscles and that’s when I see her.

  Fallon. Naked. In bed beside me.

  No. No, no, please God no.

  What have I done?

  My subconscious answers my question. Parts of it are coming back. Fallon telling me she was in town for work and contacted my mom to see what area I lived in. Her and her model friend drinking with us. Taking them to the field where Sebastian and I played one on one until we were falling down fucked up. Sebastian fucking her friend on the field. Fallon helping me back to her hotel room because I couldn’t remember where I lived.

  Jesus.

  I close my eyes to block out the sun and there’s more. Pizza, we ordered pizza that only I ate. We talked, or I talked, about Corin mostly.

  Fallon on her knees trying to make me feel better.

  Fallon on my dick trying to make us both feel something.

  I place my head in my hands and try to erase it all. I can’t.

  The longer my eyes remain closed the more her face becomes clear behind them.

  Corin.

  Regardless of what we are or aren’t, this would hurt her. Badly.

  Which is why, no matter what happens, she can never, ever know.

  The day I finish my last summer semester final, I board a plane to Brazil and prepare to see Skylar in eighteen hours. It took all semester to save up enough money for the ticket, but it was worth it. I have a two-hour layover in Columbia and I plan to use that time to freshen up and figure out how I’m going to tell him what I need to.

  These past three months have been barely tolerable without him, made worse by the way we left things.

  I love him. I am in love with him. I was wrong about not being able to focus on school if we were more than friends. Whatever we label it, my feelings for him are as constant and real as my desire to get an education. He was right—what we have isn’t geographical. I was afraid and I made excuses but I’m done with that.

  I sleep as much as I can on both flights, but I’m practically bouncing in my seat by the time we land. Thanks to tips, I didn’t even have to put this trip on the credit card Skylar gave me. Though if I need a hotel room and can’t stay with him, I’ll need to put that on there.

  So much time has passed. So much could go wrong. A feeling of doubt creeps into my mind like a slow-moving fog.

  What if he doesn’t miss me? What if he doesn’t feel the same way?

  He’s been busy with the team and our texts have been short. Our conversations have been nearly non-existent due to international fees. I shake the worries off the best I can and call the car service the travel agent gave me the number to. I have about an hour until Skylar’s first game and I need to clean up a little more and put some makeup on so I make my way to the ladies room.

  Once I look like a human being again, I locate the black sedan that’s waiting for me out front. On the way to the stadium, the driver talks about the team, the game, and the players that he’s familiar with. I text Skylar a good luck message even though I don’t know if he’ll get any playing time this early on. He mentioned before that he might just be training for a while before they actually put him in, which was why he never bothered to send me the official schedule. But I have faith in him and faith that the team will see how valuable an asset he is, so I found it online myself.

  When we arrive, the driver helps me with my overnight bag and I do my best to straighten my loose-fitting black halter top and smooth out my jeans. It’s warm here so I tie my gray wrap around my waist. It was cold on the plane so I needed it but now, not so much. I wait in line with my ticket and am in awe of how grand the stadium is. It makes the one at SoCal look like a youth league field.

  Skylar deserves this and I’m so happy he got the opportunity he deserved. I vow that I will never ever try and make him choose between his career and me. I trust him. It took losing him to realize it, but I do.

  Nervous butterflies swam in my stomach as I enter the stadium. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life but coming here was not one of them.

  We can do this.

  I just hope that I can hang onto the courage that got me here.

  After the Brazilian anthem, a few others play and the game begins. Skylar isn’t announced so he isn’t a starter. I get up several times, to get a soda, a snack, and use the ladies room, but it’s a good game and I’m glad I came.

  If I squint, I can make out a player warming up on the sidelines that I’m pretty positive is him. At the end, the score is 3-1 and Skylar’s team won even though he never saw any playing time. It’s silly, but in a way I’m glad he was being honest about not playing. My snarky subconscious had hissed at me many times that he wasn’t sending me the schedule because he didn’t want to see me.

  Very thankful that bitch was wrong.

  After the players disappear off the field, I make my way down the bleachers to try and figure out where they’ll be. Security guards line all the entrances and exits and I’m starting to think maybe I should have told him I was coming. At this rate, I might not even be able to see him.

  “Miss—you can’t go that way. Players only,” a man in an all black uniform with a unique accent tells me.

  “Oh, sorry.” I turn abruptly into the crowd but he calls out after me. “You can wait in the autography area by the concessions if you would like.”

  Concessions. I try to remember where the concessions area was from my seat and how far I’ve gone from there. I’m tired and disoriented. My eyes scan above the sea of soccer fans for any signs.

  I am overwhelmed. Only a few things are in English and everyone else seems to know where to go except me. Flags are held high and waved in every direction. I narrowly miss catching one in the eye.

  There is a chant among the crowd, something upbeat and sacred because the home team won. I can’t help but smile. No matter where he is or who he plays for, I will always be Team Skylar.

  A line of young kids has formed to my right and at first, I assume it’s the restroom. But I notice they’re all holding memorabilia. Waiting for autographs. Perfect.

  I buy a small Brazilian flag at the stand nearby and take my place in line. A few young boys, who can’t be more than eight, smile at me.

  “You like football?” One of them asks me, gesturing to the worn out ball in his hands.

  I nod. “Very much.”

  He beams at me and he is adorable with his wide chocol
ate brown eyes and mess of matching hair above his brow. “I play here some day.”

  His friends laugh, but I give him a wink. “I bet you will. I have a friend who plays here and you’re probably even better than him already. What position do you play?”

  He curls his fingers as if about to tell me a very important secret so I lean in to listen.

  “All of them,” he whispers.

  A grin spreads across both of our faces. “Then I bet you will be very important to the team.”

  His friends tease him for a few minutes while they kick the ball he holds back and forth in the small space. I’m pretty sure they are calling him “Gabriel.” A loud cheer erupts and our line begins to move forward.

  I stand on my tiptoes to try and see. A few players I don’t recognize wearing warm up style jackets have begun signing balls and flags and programs. I wait patiently through the line, congratulating the men I don’t know and looking for the one that I do.

  And then I see him, leaning down to talk to a group of boys and looking different than I remember. He cut his hair and there are no more wild boyish curls. Only short sharp spikes of dark, damp hair jutting out in all directions. He’s put on more muscle weight than I remember and he’s tan, extremely tan.

  Skylar was always handsome in an irresistible sort of way. But now he is a dangerous type of enticing that makes my stomach curl in on itself.

  He stands and laughs with his teammates as they sign autographs. Skylar found his home, just as walking toward him feels like I’ve found mine. There are still doubts lingering in my mind and plaguing my soul, voices that tell me I shouldn’t be here, that he’s moved on and won’t care to see me or have time to spend with me. But even if they’re right, at least I know I tried and I won’t spend the rest of my life wondering what if.

  “Gabriel! Luiz! A woman’s voice shouts above the crowd. In half-English, half-Portuguese, she scolds the boys in front of me.

  Luiz, I realize, is a taller version of Gabriel.

  She was scared, I gather from her rant. Worried and didn’t know where they were. They were supposed to be in the bathroom, I think. Unfortunately I’m not exactly fluent in Portuguese. Childhood disappointments, however, I am well versed in. This will leave a mark.

  The boys look downtrodden as they’re forced out of line before Gabriel has gotten his ball signed. My heart breaks wide open for him. His older brother is comforting him and I’m so close to Skylar I can pick up his scent.

  Tears fill Gabriel’s eyes as he steps around the group of boys and ducks under the rope. For the first time I notice that his clothes don’t fit well. On the plane I read about soccer, or football as they call it here, being one of the only ways out of poverty for some kids.

  “No sign, mama,” I hear him say. “No one signed it.”

  I can fix this. Somehow. I will not be able to sleep even after nearly two days of sleep-deprivation if this little boy does not get his damn ball signed.

  “Skylar,” I call out over the boys in front of me. I have to call twice more before his head snaps in my direction. I point frantically at the back of Gabriel’s retreating figure and sign my name in the air. “No one signed his ball.” I push out a pouty lip and trail my finger down my face.

  Skylar looks confused and stunned. Thankfully the line moves forward.

  “Corin? What are you doing here?”

  Never in my life have I seen him this surprised. I can’t tell if it’s a good surprise or a bad one, but there are more important things than me right now.

  “That little boy waited in line forever. He wants to play here when he grows up. He plays every position, and his mom made him get out of line before anyone signed his ball.” I wave my hands in frustration. “Do something. Please.”

  Without further pleading, Skylar hops gracefully over the rope and stops Gabriel and his mom before they’re out of sight. I step out of line to follow, breathing a sigh of relief when I see Skylar wiping away Gabriel’s tears. When he signs his ball and then hands over his jacket, I almost have some tears of my own.

  Gabriel laughs, showing off his new jacket to his brother, who high-fives him.

  Surrounded by all of this, by the significance of it and my newfound understanding of how important something we call a game can be, I am humbled.

  “That was very sweet of you,” I tell Skylar as he makes his way to me.

  “You come all this way to make sure everyone got their ball signed?”

  I nod. “Yep. And my work here is done so…” I’ve only turned half way around when Skylar wraps me in his arms.

  “It’s good to see you, Red. So fucking good.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” I whisper against his warm skin. “It’s good to see you too, soccer boy.”

  “So what’d you say to Gabriel?” Corin asks before explaining what she’s doing here.

  I finish off my bottle of water as we make our way to my car. “That he didn’t need to play every position because Goalie is the only one that really matters. And we run the least.”

  Corin laughs and I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s here. She’s really here but my mind still wonders if I’m dreaming.

  “So besides making friends in the autograph line, care to tell me what you’re doing in Brazil?” It’s a long ass flight for her to have come all this way. And I didn’t even play—which I told her I wouldn’t. Surely there’s a reason for her surprise trip. Not that I’m complaining, just curious as hell.

  “Just checking out the scenery,” she says eying me appreciatively.

  This is new, the way she’s looking at me like she wants to swallow me whole. I am fully on board with this.

  “See anything you like?”

  “A few things,” she says casually.

  “That right?”

  “Mmhm,” is all I get back.

  Distance makes the heart grow fonder, so I’ve heard. Apparently it makes Corin grow hornier.

  “You hungry? There’s a decent restaurant near my place.”

  Corin takes a deep breath. “I actually ate at the game, but maybe we could grab lunch tomorrow if you’re not busy. I was hoping I could maybe crash at your place. I didn’t exactly book a hotel room.”

  Grabbing lunch doesn’t sound all that intimate. My ego recoils from the hit. But at least she’s sleeping over so that has to mean something. I open the door for her and she whistles low at the sleek black Audi R8 GT.

  “Don’t get too excited. It’s a rental. A company that works with the team lets us rent them when we’re in town. We’re on the road too much to need a car year-round. But it’s a nice perk.”

  “I’ll say,” she says, lowering her delectable body onto the lush leather seat. “Any other perks I should know about?”

  I climb into the driver’s side and start the engine.

  “I’m serious. Perks? Any others besides cool cars?” Her raised eyebrows indicate she expects an answer.

  “A few. Why?”

  Corin bites the inside of her cheek for a split second. “So are you or are you not surrounded by Brazilian models all hours of the night and day?”

  I let out a low laugh. Jealous Corin is extremely sexy.

  “Well I have practice. And workouts. And media events. And games. So not all hours.”

  She slugs me hard in the arm. “I’m serious, Sky. I came here to see you and so we could talk about things. But if you’re seeing someone or just loving the bachelor pro-athlete life, then that’s cool. You’re young and attractive and I’m sure you have plenty of options in that department.”

  “Corin…” I focus on my breathing because damn this woman to hell. “I have told you repeatedly in no uncertain terms how I feel about you. Despite your constant rebuffing of my attempts, I meant what I said. My feelings for you aren’t geographical.”

  “And yet, my money says you haven’t been over here pining for me like a Priest.”

  I swallow hard and try to figure out the best way to be honest withou
t ruining whatever the hell this is.

  “No, I haven’t. When I left, it seemed like whatever we were moving towards was done. So yeah, I went out. I lived my life—pretty much the same way I lived it before I met you. But honestly, work takes up a lot of my time. And I mean a lot. As in, most of my free time is spent sleeping, eating, or taking a quick shower. Alone.”

  Corin is silent. I touch her knee gently.

  “If there’s something you want to ask me, you should just ask. I won’t lie to you.”

  There is only one thing I won’t tell her voluntarily. But if she asks, I will be honest. It will kill me and it will probably ruin any chance I have of ever having something real with my guarded girl, but I won’t lie to her if I can help it.

  “Did you miss me?” she asks softly into the darkness.

  There is so much vulnerability evident in her tone I want to pull the car over and show her just how much I missed her.

  “Like crazy. But I know my career is demanding and you wanted to focus on school. You weren’t wrong—the things you said when I left. I don’t want to be a distraction. I don’t want to hurt you in any way, Corin.”

  God, I mean that to the depths of my soul.

  “I was wrong. About a few things,” she tells me. “Important things.”

  Corin admitting she was wrong is such a novel occurrence; I’m practically speechless until we arrive at the group of condos where most of the guys on the team live.

  “Can you repeat that once more? A little louder, so I can be sure I heard you correctly.”

  “Shut up,” she admonishes me teasingly. “I never said I was perfect. I make mistakes too, you know.”

  A small voice in the back of my mind alerts me that this might be a good time to tell her about some mistakes I’ve made. But the mood between us is bordering on magical and combustible. It feels like the wrong move, the wrong words, a wrong breath, might destroy it.