He’s not wrong, but I still hate it. I hate that she seems to still want to protect that piece of shit when he doesn’t deserve it. He wronged her so many times. He hurt her deeply and I see it every single day even though no one else does.
“I think I’m in love with her,” I say, surprising myself, and them, because even though they talk shit, they weren’t expecting to hear me actually admit that.
“Damn.” Mitch shakes his head.
“Damn.” Mav blinks.
“Damn,” I whisper.
“And to her you’re just a rebound, right?” Mitch asks. I nod.
“Always the bridesmaid,” Mav says. We both shoot him a look. “What? Mom always says that to Lily.”
“Yeah, because Aunt Lily is literally always the bridesmaid.” Mitch chuckles.
“And I’ve never wanted to be the bride,” I say, rolling my eyes when they both laugh uncontrollably. Assholes. “Or the groom, or whatever.”
“It does get old though,” Mav says. “Having girls use us for our bodies or connections or money or whatever they think they can get by being with us.”
“Why do you think I don’t fall into it?” Mitch says. “I’ve been telling you for years. Keep your eye on the prize.”
“The prize being football,” I say. “Baseball for you.”
“The prize being getting a professional contract. Yes.”
“You know what I don’t understand? Everyone’s talking about this big contract he’s going to sign. Does that mean he has an agent?” Mav asks.
“That’s a good question.” I frown, knowing we’re not supposed to sign with anyone until we play our last game.
I’ve met a lot of agents and already have one in mind that I’ll probably sign with, but can’t until my last game, so we’ve never gone into that conversation. It’s all very platonic for now. Hi and bye, good game, I like what you did there, etcetera. I could have signed last year, but my injury set me back. Damn injuries.
“Maybe he’s just talking to an agent, which of course, is also technically illegal, but still. Who would tell on him?”
I purse my lips. He’s not wrong. This is why so many people get away with that. It’s a stupid rule to begin with. We meet agents all the time, but can’t talk about the future or anything that may hint at us doing any kind of business before our last game played. Even if Lawrence is signed, which I doubt he officially is since everyone knows the consequences of that, I would never snitch on him. As much as I can’t stand the guy, I wouldn’t want to ruin his freaking life. I shake my head. People like Lawrence get away with everything. Some might say the same thing about my brothers and me, but they’d be wrong. We’re more privileged than most, and still we’d never get away with half of the shit guys like Lawrence pull. I take a breath and exhale, unwilling to continue thinking about Lawrence.
“Do you think Jo feels the same about you?” Mav asks.
“I’m not sure.” There are times when there’s no question about it, but that’s usually when we’re having sex or alone and she actually lets her walls down for a moment, right before she builds them back up and shutters herself away. She used to be such an open book, not this overly cautious bombshell who looks over her shoulder when she walks and thinks twice before speaking. I think about the paper Lawrence keeps trying to get her to sign and feel my blood getting hot again. I know I need to let it go because if I want her to be more than just a casual hookup, I need to put my energy into that and not spend it on my frustration over the situation with her ex. She’s obviously trying to let it go. I need to try to do the same.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jo
I stare at my phone for a full ten seconds before answering the call.
“I thought you were going to come by on Sunday,” my mother says, her voice soft, softer than it has been in months when speaking to me.
“I was busy.”
“Hm.” She pauses. “When will you not be too busy to see your mother?”
“When my mother stops acting like I killed someone.”
“You could have, Jo.”
I shut my eyes. No, I couldn’t have, but my mother doesn’t know that and honestly I’m not sure that she ever will. It wouldn’t make a difference anyway. It’s not like I’d be able to play this last season of volleyball because even if I came clean to my parents, I would never come clean to my coach or old teammates. I truly didn’t want to hurt Lawrence, despite everything. Maybe in a few years I’d tell people the truth about what happened, and who would even care at that point? Besides, as far as I’m concerned, my teammates don’t deserve my friendship. Not after the way they cast judgment and never even tried to keep in touch after I was kicked off the team. I get it, I do, drunk driving is absolutely unacceptable, but I wasn’t driving. It’s the freaking reason I wasn’t driving. Lawrence had nothing to drink that night, yet still lost control of the vehicle.