Текст книги "Game On"

Автор книги: Katie McCoy

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twelve

I should have just left. The minute I realized who was onstage, I should have just taken my bag and my phone and walked out of there. Instead, for reasons I couldn’t quite name, I stayed and polished off half a pitcher while Nick and his band played his whole set.

Maybe I was hoping Nick would feel guilty. Maybe I was hoping he would apologize. Maybe I was a glutton for punishment. Maybe I was just a drunk idiot sitting in the audience of her ex-boyfriend’s show while he sang a song about the blowjobs he used to get from her. WHICH HE HADN’T GOTTEN IN MONTHS BECAUSE WE NEVER HAD SEX ANYMORE.

I winced, realizing I was yelling at myself in my head, and took another long drink of my beer to soothe the pain. It made the voice calm to a steady buzz and pretty soon I wasn’t thinking anything at all, just sitting there, my arms folded, glaring up at the stage, waiting for it to be over.

To Nathan’s credit, he had said nothing, except to send away the last pitcher of beer, which made me mad at first, but the tiny non-drunk part of my brain made the point that I would probably be grateful later.

An hour later, the band had ended its set and Nick vaulted off the stage with more energy and excitement than I had seen in the past few months and made a beeline for me. Suddenly, the realization that I had been sitting there, waiting for him, made me feel completely gross, and before he could reach me, I leapt up from the table and practically ran out the door.

The hot night air made me sweat immediately, but I stomped my feet against the pavement towards the direction of my hotel, ignoring the two male voices calling for me from behind.

“Sophie!” Nick and Nathan both called out, their footsteps pounding behind me.

I finally whirled around to face them.

Nick was still holding his guitar, his face flushed with the adrenaline rush of having given a good show. And as much as I loathed to admit it, it had been a good show, one I might have even enjoyed if I wasn’t so fucking angry at him. And then he spoke.

“What did you think of the new lyrics?” he asked, in his typical clueless manner. I wanted to rip off his hands and slap him with them.

I almost missed the “what the fuck, dude” look that Nathan gave Nick as I tried to focus my now unsteady gaze on him. He was also flushed, but instead of holding a guitar, he had my purse and my phone in his hand, which he held out. Feeling stupid for having forgotten them, I snatched them out of his grasp, shoving the phone back into the bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

“I have to go,” I said, hating the way my speech was slurring. Why had I kept drinking? Why had I stayed? This was exactly something my mother would have done. She totally would have sat in the audience of an ex-boyfriend’s show, though she would have kept going until she was too drunk to stand and the bartender or bouncer would have had to call me to tell me that they had put her in a cab and that I should expect her home in a few minutes. Then it was my job to make sure she got enough liquids in her system, or that she threw up if she needed to, so I wouldn’t wake up the next morning as an orphan. The thought that I was acting like my mom over a guy, over NICK, made me nauseous.

Or maybe that was the alcohol. My stomach heaved and both guys jumped out of the way as an evening of beer and peanuts emptied onto the sidewalk between them. I moaned, my emotions somewhere between embarrassed and exhausted. I just wanted to go home, crawl into bed and forget this whole horrible evening had ever happened.

Nick snorted. “Nice one,” he said, ever the gentleman. I glared at him. If I felt sick again, I would make sure to aim better. At least get his shoes the next time. He loved those stupid leather shoes.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel,” Nathan said, gently, but I ducked away.

“It’s literally across the street,” I pointed out, annoyed that he was still acting so nice to me. Why wouldn’t he just be a total jerk so I could be righteously mad at him? It wasn’t fair!

Nick was still standing there, still clutching his guitar. Looking at me like I was the one with the problem. Me! It made my blood boil. And then I remembered his question.

“You want to know what I think of the new lyrics?” I asked him. He nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” he said, clearly feeling pretty proud of himself. “I think they were pretty good.”

“Fuck you, Nick.” I glared at him, pleased at the shocked look that crossed his face. “You dump me, get me kicked out of my apartment, randomly show up in Austin, and now you have the nerve to ask me about your fucking lyrics?”

“I thought we were friends,” he stammered.

“You’re a selfish asshole,” I told him, poking him hard in the chest, enjoying each wince. “And I’m not friends with selfish assholes.”

“I don’t know what you’re being such a bitch about,” he said, switching from hurt to angry. The petulance gave his voice an obnoxious whine. “Clearly you’ve already found someone new.”

“Shut up, Nick.”

“Bet you didn’t even wait until we were broken up.” He gave Nathan a once over. “Bet you were fucking this guy while we were still together.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, throwing up my hands. “You are unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well.” He seemed to be searching for the right insult. “Well you’re a slut!”

I wasn’t afraid of him. He was a skinny little wannabe rocker. I could break him like a twig if I wanted. So I just narrowed my eyes at him, but Nathan’s face went dark.

“Hey.” Nathan’s voice was soft but firm as he approached Nick. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

Nick seemed to notice Nathan’s size for the first time, doing the same double take I had done when I saw the band on stage. He looked back at me. “This guy, Sophie, really?”

“I think you owe her an apology,” Nathan said. He practically dwarfed Nick, not just in height, but in size. It was almost comical seeing them next to each other. Pale, waifish Nick in his tight black clothes serving as a shadow to Nathan’s broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, all-American jock in blue jeans.

If Nick were a smart man, he would have backed down. But smarts weren’t exactly what Nick was known for.

He gave Nathan a poke in the shoulder.

“I can talk to her however I want,” he said, straightening to his full height, still several inches shorter then Nathan. “Besides, who the fuck are you?”

“Someone who doesn’t think you should go around calling women sluts.”

Nick laughed, but the sound died a quick death as Nathan stepped closer to him, leaning down until they were eye to eye. If I were Nick that would have been the moment where I ran away crying for my mama, but Nick held his ground like the idiot that he was. Still, I could see a flicker of fear in his eyes. Good, I thought.

“I think you should go back to the bar,” Nathan said, his voice still quiet, but with a dangerous undertone to it. If I wasn’t annoyed at him as well, I might have found his chivalry charming, but I had not forgotten that the only reason I had been in the same bar as Nick and his band tonight was because of Nathan. He wasn’t getting off so easily. Or getting off with me at all, I thought, proud of my resilience in the face of such hotness. And he was hot, his eyebrows furrowed and chest heaving.

“Whatever, dude,” Nick said, pushing away from him and turning to me. I glared at him, not backing down, even when he leaned forward and I could smell the pot on his breath. That nauseous feeling rose in my stomach again, but this time it wasn’t from the booze. How could I have stayed with him for so long? He stared down at me. “How long have you been fucking him, Sophie?”

“I wish!” I gave him a hard shove, causing him to stumble back. I wanted him out of my face. “I wish I was fucking him because god knows I haven’t been getting any from you.” I didn’t even have a chance to see how Nathan felt about that comment before Nick made his next, extremely ill-advised attack.

“Yeah, well, you were bad in bed,” he shot back.

My eyes narrowed. He had gone too far, the little shit. “I’m AMAZING in bed,” I said through gritted teeth. “If you would have touched me half as much as you touched your guitar—or yourself—you would have appreciated that!” I was so angry I was seeing red. “You were a terrible boyfriend!” I snarled at him. “And your new lyrics suck!”

Nick just stared at me, his whole body slumped in shock.

I swayed on my feet, turning back in the direction of my hotel. My head was bleary with beer and frustration. I just wanted to lie down. This evening sucked. It really, really sucked.

“Sophie—” Nathan stepped forward, his hand gently reaching out for me, but I slapped it away, spinning to face him. The world spun with me and didn’t stop.

“And you!” I waved my finger at him, trying to keep from falling over. When I steadied myself, I found that he was staring at me, a worried look in his eyes. He should be worried, I thought. I was a loose cannon with a ton of goddamn gunpowder to spare.

“All I wanted was a fucking interview!” I told him. “All I wanted was to do my job.” I was shouting now, the words tumbling out of my mouth, the alcohol freeing them completely. All the frustration, professional and sexual, that I had been feeling since I set foot in Austin poured out of me in a jumble of slurred words. “I’m a good reporter! I just wanted to interview you, for fuck’s sake. I just wanted to write this piece and prove to those assholes at the paper that I was worth something. That I wasn’t some girl that they could order around. That I wasn’t someone who was there to get them coffee or make copies. I wanted to prove to them that I could write a good story. And you just keep jerking me around like I’m nothing. But I’m not nothing, Nathan Ryder. You might be the hottest thing since microwaves, but I am now officially immune to your charms. I’m done letting your smile and your tight shirts and your great butt distract me! I’m a fucking reporter and I’m here to do my job. I didn’t even want to come to this bar tonight. I shouldn’t have been here at all, so I’m done. I’m done with both of you.” I pointed at Nathan. “I’m done with you tonight.” I pointed at Nick. “And I’m done with you forever. As far as I’m concerned, you’re an asshole and not worth another moment of my evening.”

Somehow in my drunken state, I realized I was being much harsher on Nathan than he deserved. He hadn’t broken up with me. He hadn’t left me for a member of his band. He hadn’t gotten me evicted from his apartment. He had just been annoyingly hard to interview, and now I was screaming at him in the street. But it was too late to back down. I had already crossed a line and I was too drunk to make any kind of meaningful apology. That would have to wait until I could walk straight. I waved my hand at both of them. “I’m going back to my hotel. Across. The. Street. Don’t you dare follow me.”

And with that, I turned unsteadily on my heel and stalked off, leaving both of them standing outside the bar. Good, I thought to myself as I walked away towards the hotel. They deserved each other.

Chapter Thirteen

The ringing of my phone set off an explosion of pain my head. My mouth felt as if it was full of cotton balls, my body ached, and I was pretty sure that if I tried to stand up, the entire world might flip upside down. I had no idea where my phone was, but the noise it was making seemed to be all around me. All the lights in my hotel room were still on, which caused another sharp jab of pain in my head each time I tried to peel my eyes open. They seemed to be glued shut.

I swept my hand across the bed, finding piles of pillows and sheets, but no hard rectangular electronic device that was clearly in league with the devil. Suddenly the noise stopped and I breathed a sigh of relief. As I pulled one of the pillows closer to me, I realized I was still fully dressed. Eyes firmly closed, I gave myself a good pat down discovering that not only was I still wearing my bra, T-shirt, and jeans but I was also still wearing socks and shoes. Yet I hadn’t let that stop me from crawling completely under the covers.

Groaning, I rolled over on to my back as the previous evening’s dramatics came back to me in painful Technicolor. Sitting in the bar with Nathan, seeing Nick on stage with his band, Nick and Anne Marie playing the song about me with new, updated, unwelcomed lyrics, me drinking half the beer in Texas in an effort to avoid reality and then throwing up in the street. Nick asking me if I liked the song and then my whole, glorious, expletive-laced monologue about how bad Nick was in bed, how good I was, and how much I wished I was in bed with Nathan. And on top of all that I had been mean to him. Like, truly, unnecessarily mean. What the hell, Hall? Nathan was not Nick and it wasn’t fair to even compare them.

Fuck me, I thought, my head pounding. I had truly and completely fucked up this assignment. There was absolutely no way Nathan was going to speak to me again, let alone allow me to interview him in a professional capacity. Good job, Hall, I told myself. You’re a fucking moron who can’t hold her booze.

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, the phone started ringing again.

“Argh!” I moaned and yanked my pillow out from under my head and threw it across the room. When I lay back on the bed, however, my skull cracked against the very device I had been struggling to find. “Ouch,” I muttered and squinted at the screen. My mother. Of course.

Knowing that it was unlikely she’d stop calling, I pushed ACCEPT and held the phone a good distance from my ear, my head still throbbing in rhythm with the now silenced ringing.

“Hello?” I croaked.

“That’s my girl,” Mama said, her own voice as raspy as mine. I didn’t know how she did it, but somehow my mother knew exactly when I was hung over and always chose to call me as early as she could that morning. I forced my eyes open wider and blinked at the digital numbers on the clock next to the bed. 12:30. OK, well, that was early for her, I supposed. From the gravel in her voice, it would be an easy assumption that she had been out just as late as I had, probably doing much of the same thing. Though my mom rarely ended her night screaming at two men in the middle of the street. Usually it was just one man and it was in our living room.

“Morning, Mama,” I said, struggling to sit up. I felt damp and rumpled in yesterday’s clothes, but I was glad to see that I hadn’t thrown up again once I arrived back at my room. The last thing I wanted was to leave the staff of this fancy hotel an indication that I was a drunk like my mother instead of the professional I aspired to be. But if last night was any indication, I hadn’t fallen that far from that particularly boozy tree. Like mother, like daughter, I thought, trying to swallow my own embarrassment and nausea.

“How’s Austin?” she asked. “Having fun?”

“Uh huh,” I said, realizing that fully formed sentences were going to be a bit of struggle until I had a shower and a bathtub’s amount of coffee.

“How’s that interview going?”

“Good,” I lied.

“Is that hot shot ball player being nice to you?”

“Uh huh,” I lied again.

“Have you copped a feel yet?”

“Mama!” I chided her, the effort making my forehead throb.

“I just saw him on the TV the other day,” she said. “And goodness, does that boy have a nice tush.”

I just shook my head, knowing it was no use trying to argue with her. Especially because she was absolutely right. Nathan did have a great tush. One that I was never going to be allowed within fifty feet of once news of my behavior reached the Register. I would be lucky if I ever got an assignment like this again. I’d probably be demoted, destined to deliver coffee and answer phones for the rest of my career.

Leaning my head back on the headrest, I tried to think of how I could salvage this situation, but I was out of ideas. This wasn’t something that was forgiven in journalism. This was very, very unprofessional. And worse, I had been mean to someone who’d tried to help me. I winced at the memory of everything I had said to Nathan. I was the one who had been the real jerk in that situation.

“You sound terrible, hon,” my mom said, reminding me that she was there. “Go splash some water on your face and pour yourself some whiskey.”

The thought of drinking any more alcohol made me to dry heave.

“Hair of the dog!” my mother said. “It works.”

“Mmhmm,” I barely managed. “I gotta go.”

“Good luck with Mr. Hot Ass,” Mama said and then hung up.

Even though I knew it wouldn’t help my headache, I pulled up my email to see if I had missed anything. To my extreme displeasure there was an email from my editor. Short, but to the unfortunate point.

“Please send notes and/or interview rough draft. Want to get an idea of how it is coming along.”

I stared at it for a few moments, my stomach twisting and churning. And this time, when I heaved, I had to race to the bathroom, barely making it as the rest of my evening was emptied out into the toilet.

***

An hour later, I was freshly showered and on my second cup of hotel coffee and just beginning to feel like a human being again when there was a knock at the door. Even thought I was pretty sure I had put the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door, the last thing I wanted was for the cleaning staff to come into the room and discover how much I had trashed the room in my drunken state. The bed especially was in an embarrassing state of disarray, sheets scrunched to the middle of the mattress, pillows and blankets strewn across the room. My sad, broken suitcase was leaning up against the wall, looking a little how I felt—defeated and unable to fulfill its purpose. I grabbed a robe and wrapped the terry cloth belt tightly around me. It was soft and cuddly, just warm enough for the perfectly air-conditioned room, and covered my black lace clad body from the gaze of whatever poor cleaning person was on the other side of the door.

Careful not to reveal too much of the room behind me, I eased open the door, preparing to apologize and ask them to come back later. But it wasn’t hotel staff on the other side of the door. It was Nathan.

My stomach dropped to my feet and for a moment I thought I might need to run back to the bathroom. I was sure my face was a pleasant tinge of green.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” was about as much as I could manage. I forced myself to close my dropped jaw. What was he doing here? And looking as good as he did. He was wearing his usual attire, jeans and a T-shirt, but something about the way he seemed to fill up the hallway, the scent of him, that wonderful clean, fresh smell wafting into the room, made him seem overwhelmingly male. Plus it didn’t help that I was practically naked underneath my robe. All I would have to do was loosen the belt, wiggle my shoulders and…

I realized I was staring and that he had asked me something.

“Sorry?” I shook my head, trying to clear away the naughty thoughts that had gotten me into all this trouble in the first place.

“I was wondering if I could come in,” he repeated. His expression was serious, but not angry.

“Um, sure, of course.” I opened the door and quickly turned and tried to organize as much of the chaos as I could in the span of five seconds. I managed to clear off a chair and a spot on the bed, but the rest was pretty much hopeless.

“Sorry for the mess,” I apologized, as he took a seat in the chair. I perched on the edge of the bed, very aware that I was very nearly naked. I hadn’t given much thought to the length of the robe, but now, with Nathan sitting in front of me, my wet hair drying into messy waves, I was very conscious of how much of my bare legs were visible. I tugged at the hem of the robe, hoping to cover at least the top part of my thigh. I noticed he was doing his best to avert his eyes, though there was a flush slowly spreading across his handsome cheekbones.

I felt totally exposed in front of him. And not in the way I had imagined many, many times.

“I—” I said, just as he blurted out, “I just wanted to—”

There was a moment of silence and then, “You first—,” we both said.

We stared at each for a moment and then shared an embarrassed laugh. Some of the tension broke, but not all of it. I tugged at my robe, wrapping it tighter around me.

“Ladies first.” He gave me a smile.

I cleared my throat. “I wanted to apologize for last night.” I found myself staring at the end of the terry cloth belt that I was winding around my fingers. “It was incredibly unprofessional of me and I completely understand if you want to request another reporter do the interview. I also need to apologize for being a total jerk last night. Clearly my ex-boyfriend brings out the worst while beer brings up the peanuts,” I joked lamely, feeling so incredibly awful for how I had treated him.

I risked a glance up at him, but he was also looking downward, apparently at his feet. What did he have to be so embarrassed about?

“I wanted to apologize as well,” he said, finally looking up at me. “I was a real jerk to you last night.”

“I think that was pretty well covered by me,” I countered, pushing my wet hair back over my shoulder. He watched the movement, his gaze then following the line of my neck before dipping down towards the suddenly gaping neck of my robe. I pulled it closed and he jerked his eyes back up to my face, his cheeks even more red.

He coughed. “I shouldn’t have taken you to that bar.”

“You didn’t know that Nick would be there,” I told him, before furrowing my brows at him. “Right?”

He nodded. “But I still shouldn’t have taken you there. You were right. It wasn’t a place for an interview and I knew that.” He went back to staring at his feet. “This whole time you’ve just been trying to do your job and I’ve been a big baby about it.”

“You don’t like journalists.” I shrugged my shoulders, still waiting for the brush-off. “I understand that. Some people don’t like the spotlight.”

“It’s not just that,” he said. “I just don’t think I deserve it.”

I was surprised. Like, really, really surprised. He was an incredibly talented baseball star—usually that was the kind of person that lived for the spotlight. “Why would you think that?” I asked.

“I just think there are more important people out there. People who deserve attention. People who don’t get it.” He looked up at me sheepishly. “Besides, I am not newsworthy.”

“I think you should let me be the judge of that,” I told him, for a moment forgetting that he still hadn’t agreed to actually go through with the interview. But I sensed that there was potential here. “OK,” I leaned forward. “Why don’t I make a deal with you?”

“A deal?” he raised an eyebrow. “What kind of deal?”

“You give me one evening. One. I get my interview, all the standard questions, the whole usual thing. If I decide you’re not newsworthy, I’ll do the article on something else.” There was no way that the Register would agree to this, but there was also no way that Nathan wasn’t worth writing about. Nobody went from college ball straight to the major league.

“Something else?” he asked, looking intrigued. “Like what?”

I lifted a shoulder. “You seemed to think that there were things more interesting than you. I guess you’ll have to prove it to me.”

He smiled and my heart skipped a beat.

“Sounds like a challenge,” he said.

“Guess it is,” I responded. There was hope for this article yet.

“OK,” he stood and regarded me. “I’m guessing you’d like to do the interview tonight.”

“If you don’t mind.” I gave him a smile and stood as well, keeping a tight grip on my robe.

“Six?”

“Great,” I walked him to the door.

He gave me a half smile as he stepped into the hallway. “Guess it’s up to me to prove to you how boring I really am.”

“And I’m looking forward to seeing you try,” I teased as he turned to face me. We were still standing close together. Too close in fact. Or not close enough, I couldn’t really tell. All I knew was that if he leaned forward just a little bit, he would be able to kiss me. And I’d be able to kiss him back.

Nathan’s eyes dropped to my lips and I could tell he was thinking the same thing. For a moment I thought he was going to do it, finish what we had started in the frat house the other night.

But there was a clattering from down the hall and we both jumped apart as a cleaning lady rolled past us. Even though she kept her eyes discreetly down, I could tell she knew exactly what was going on.

Nathan cleared his throat. “I’ll see you at six,” he finally managed.

I nodded and waited until he had disappeared into the elevator before I closed the door.