Playing Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (15 page)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

RILEY

“
You
are going out with Ava Westwood?
You
.”

I turn at the sound of Bryce’s voice. We’re just leaving English class. I’ve always hated English, but being in the class with Bryce just makes it that much more painful.

“What the fuck do you care?” I ask him, shrugging. “It’s none of your business.”

Bryce laughs, as if I’ve just made a funny joke. “I knew her at prep school. She was the year above me, and everyone knew she was frigid as hell,” he says. “That snatch is sealed tighter than a nun’s.”

I sneer at him, turning away. “Maybe that was just for you,” I can’t resist throwing back at him, even though I know that’s not the case. It’s not like I’m going to agree with him though, even if I know that Ava’s a virgin. And I know that, despite my best efforts, I still haven’t managed to persuade her to put out.

“Are you telling me you’ve hit that, then?” Bryce catches up with me, his shoulder knocking slightly against mine as he comes by me. I bristle. Just who the fuck does Bryce think he is?

The answer to that is obvious, though. He doesn’t need to
think
he’s anyone other than who he actually is: Bryce J. Lennox III. And with his family’s money, he can get away with anything. He’s made that obvious enough in the three years I’ve known him. Last year he virtually destroyed his Maybach while doing donuts in an empty parking lot and lost control. Maybe he lied to his parents, or maybe they just didn’t care. Whatever the case, he had a shiny new one the next month, presumably until he wrecks it, too.

When I don’t answer, Bryce laughs again. I hate his laugh — it’s cruel, not like regular laughter. Bryce only laughs when he can laugh
at
someone.

“I take it that’s a no,” he smirks. “Don’t take it too hard. At school we had a betting pool for whoever could get into her pants first, but as far as I know, that’s still uncharted territory. You could be the first to stake your claim to that little slice of heaven.”

I don’t answer, even as disgust rises in my stomach. I don’t know why — it’s not like I haven’t talked about banging girls before, or certain girls I’d want to hook up with and the best way to get them to give up the goods.

But this time, it’s different.

This time, it’s
Ava.

She’s not one of the girls who trawls the party circuit, looking for new dick to try. She’s not some piece of meat to be chewed up and then discarded.

Someone like Bryce isn’t even good enough to look at her, let alone talk about her like that.

I don’t even get why I’m so angry about it — it’s been a week since our ‘date’ at the restaurant, and I swear if it goes on any longer I’ll be the first recorded case of death by blue balls in the United States. I shouldn’t care what Bryce says about Ava. She blew me off, she’s done nothing but be a fucking irritation to me from the first moment we met.

But I do.

I should kick him in the balls for even
thinking
it.

“No offence, though, but I don’t really think you’re up to her standards,” Bryce drawls casually after a moment or two. “I mean, she’s a prime cut, while you’re nothing but —”

This time, I really do lose it. I swing around, fists bunched, all ready to punch Bryce right in his stupid, smirking face.

The only reason I don’t is because I feel Reid and Omar’s hands on my shoulders, pulling me back.

“C’mon, dude, he’s not worth it,” Omar says in my ear. “Just leave it. He’s trying to be a dick to get a rise out of you.”

As much as I want to push him off me and just smash my fist into Bryce’s jaw, I try to listen to him and calm myself down.

He’s right. If I punched Bryce in the middle of campus in front of hundreds of witnesses, I’d be in beyond scholarship-losing territory — I’d be lucky if I didn’t end up charged with assault. I’m completely sure he and his parents would screw me in whatever way they could, with the best lawyers money could buy.

Bryce and his friends walk away, laughing. “Someone get that dog on a leash,” Bryce shouts over his shoulder as he goes, slapping one of his friends on the back as they all guffaw at his
hilarious
joke.

I’m the dog, see. Isn’t that funny?

I shrug off Omar and Reid’s hands, shaking my head to clear it.

“One day that boy is going to mouth off to the wrong person and do himself a mischief,” Omar says, shaking his head.

I sneer. “I’m sure daddy’s money will be right there to bail him out.”

“Sometimes you talk like you’ve got a real chip on your shoulder, Riley,” Omar says. “Maybe you should just try being cool.”

I’m not surprised to hear Omar saying that — his family has money. His father played football for Blaketon before going on to have a massively successful pro career. His mother founded a cosmetics empire or something like that.

“You don’t get it,” I complain at him. “It’s not that easy.”

Omar laughs. “You want ‘not that easy’? Try being black in this white-ass town. The next time campus security asks to see my ID when I’m getting into my own fucking car, I’m going to start getting badge numbers.”

He has a point. “Sorry,” I tell him. “That was a dick thing to say.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Omar shrugs. “It happens.”

We start heading toward the courtyard. I have classes this afternoon, but right now, there’s nothing I want to do less than sit in a room and get talked at. I feel keyed up, like I have to
do
something.

I haven’t spoken to Ava since the restaurant, and maybe that’s part of it — I feel uncertain of where I stand with her, or if she even wants to speak to me again after what happened. Murray hasn’t relayed that back to me, so I have to assume things are still on, but still, I don’t like it. I’ve always hated uncertainty, and I’m not used to feeling it with women. I’ve never been anything less than direct with them, and I like the same in return. Any girl who tries to play headgames with me never gets a second look. And in return, they get total honesty from me. I’ll never talk a girl into bed with false promises or manipulation.

Which is why this situation with Ava is bothering me so badly. Any girl who’s this much trouble I usually would have put out of my mind long ago. Sure, the situation here is a little different given the pretense we’re having to play out, but there’s more to it than that.

I shouldn’t have wanted to punch Bryce over what he said.

I shouldn’t be thinking about her as anything more than someone I have to hang out with because Coach Jackson is making me.

And I shouldn’t still be playing our kiss over and over again in my mind, knowing that I’ll go crazy if I can’t kiss her again, and soon.

“You want to come get some lunch before History?” Reid asks, interrupting my thoughts. “I’m starving.”

“I’m up for that,” Omar says. “You coming, Riley?”

I consider it. Yeah, I’m hungry, and I know I should go to class. Coach is already breathing down my neck about this Ava thing, and if I start cutting he’ll know about it soon enough.

But in the next second, I decide I don’t care.

I need to go see Ava and find out where we stand.

“Nah,” I tell Reid and Omar. “I’m going to take off — it’s just history, and I have some shit to do.”

“Okay, but don’t come crying to me when you flunk,” Omar says. “And no, you can’t use my notes.”

“Fuck you,” I tell him personably, before turning and making my way back toward the gates.

I know where Ava’s apartment is, because the limo dropped her off there after our meeting with Murray. It’s not a long walk from campus, and I get there in no time. I’m not worried about skipping class — as long as I keep my GPA above 2.0 I don’t have anything to worry about, and despite what Omar says, he
will
let me use his notes — so I can’t really explain exactly why I feel like someone’s kicked me in the stomach.

Fuck.

I refuse to believe it’s because of Ava. I have never been nervous over a girl in my entire life. I’ve never needed to be.

I walk up the front steps of her building. I have no idea what number her apartment is, but this is one of those fancy complexes that only has four of them in the whole building. I press buzzers until I get an answer.

“Hello?” A voice comes over the speaker. It’s not Ava, but I guess she might have a roommate.

“Hi, it’s Riley. Is Ava there?”

There’s a long pause and I’m just starting to think I’ve got the wrong number, when I hear Ava’s voice.

“Riley? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” I say. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

I resist the urge to grind my teeth in frustration.

“Do you
really
want me to say it over an intercom, in the middle of the street, Ava? Let me in. We can talk inside.”

There’s another long pause.

“Okay,” she finally says. “I’ll buzz you in. Just open the door.”

I hear the door buzz, and I push it open and enter the gold and marble foyer. There’s a huge vase of white flowers by a mirror against the back wall, with white pillars either side.

Fuck. Me.

The mirror, the vase, even the fucking
flowers
probably cost more than the house I grew up in. Someone probably gets paid to come and change the water in that vase every day.

I’m standing there like a jackass staring around me when I hear the sound of a door opening, and I turn to see Ava’s face peeping around the side of the dark wooden door to my right.

“What’re you doing here, Riley?” she hisses, her voice quiet. “You know Murray said we should stick to our arranged meetings.”

“What, are you going to make me stand out here while you whisper at me through a doorway?” I ask, annoyed. “Am I not good enough to come into your house or something?”

She looks a little taken aback at my words. “Of course not,” she says. “I just… I don’t know if….” She trails off, but I can read her meaning in her eyes.

I don’t know if I can trust you.
That’s what she’s thinking. Or maybe,
I don’t know if I can trust myself.

Maybe it’s both. Honestly, I’m thinking the same thing.

“I’m not having this conversation standing out here like this,” I say. “Either let me in or I’m leaving.”

“Don’t go,” she says quickly, though she still doesn’t open the door any wider. She glances over her shoulder. “There’s some people here.”

“Who?” I ask, bristling a little. “A guy?”

She gives me a weird look. “One of them is a guy, yes,” she says. “But his girlfriend is here, so there’s no need to puff out your chest like that. It’s just my roommate and her friends. I just wanted to give you a heads up not to say anything that might… give the game away.”

I clench my fists. I don’t know why I got so angry at the thought of Ava being in there with another man. I know she’s a virgin, and at the very least, I know she’s not likely to do anything that might blow our cover.

“Fine. Sorry. Can I come in now, or do I have to stay out here like an asshole?”

Ava gives me one last, long look, before opening the door.

I don’t exactly know what I’m expecting when I enter her apartment, but naturally I know it’ll be as swank as the foyer. And it is. Everything’s white and gray, and there’s a huge black leather couch in the sunken living area. There’s books spread out all over the place, and three people with their heads all turned toward me. On the massive flatscreen TV fixed to the wall, some old guy is talking and waving his hand around.  

Ava fidgets, visibly uncomfortable. “Uh, guys, this is —”

Before she can finish, one of the two girls sitting on the couch virtually bounds over the back of it, heading over to me, a big grin on her face.

“I’m Darcey,” she says, extending her hand toward me. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard
so
much about you.
Most
of it good.”

“Is that so?” I ask, amused. I glance at Ava, and find her eyes shooting daggers at her friend. Or maybe ex-friend now.

“Oh, yeah,” Darcey says. She shoots a grin at Ava, totally ignoring her glare. “Did you want some pizza? We were just about to order some.”

My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t had any lunch. “Sure,” I say. “That would be —”

“Maybe later,” Ava interrupts me. “Right now, I thought you said you wanted to talk about something?”

It’s tempting to say it can wait, just to rile her up. But in the end, my sense of decency prevails — one of the very few times in my life it has.

“Yeah,” I say. “Can we go somewhere more private?”