Blocked (25 page)

Dane nodded at Mateo, whose eyes widened upon meeting my
gigante
. “Dude, you’re tall!”

“He’s already met Alejandro?” Mom interjected. Her scowl told me she was still unimpressed by my roommate.

“
Sí, Señora
.” Dane smirked. “And what a polite,
tranquilo
first-born son you have.”

Her eyes narrowed as she caught his sarcasm.
¡Hijole!
Insulting one of her offspring was about as unwise as it got.

But like an idiot, Dane kept going. “And now the rest of
la familia
Ramirez is crashing my home, I see. Will the patriarch, Adolfo, join us, too?”

¡Cállate!
I wanted to shout.
Shut up!

My mother stepped forward. “That’s
Governor
Ramirez to you,
hijo
. And you should be so lucky for him to show up. Clearly, your father hasn’t taught you how to behave.”

Dane blanched, and he straightened to his full, intimidating height. “You know
nothing
about my father.”

I’d never seen him so angry.
What is his deal?

“Lucia?” China’s voice filtered into the foyer from the TV room.

I watched Dane to make sure he stayed put. “Um, yeah?”

“CNN says you’re…” China stepped into the foyer. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Ramirez. I’m Agent China Halloway, on Mr. Monroe’s detail.” My mother nodded at her, and China’s gaze shifted right. “And you’re Matty? I’ve heard great things about you.”

My brother shot me a dirty look. “It’s Mateo.”

“Of course, sir.”

His face relaxed.

China rested her hand on Dane’s shoulder as she looked up at him. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and he closed his eyes. Amazingly, his fists unfurled and he blew out a breath. China’s brute force typically riled him up, but he appeared much calmer when he spoke this time.

“
Señora
Ramirez, Mateo, please come in.” He extended his arm toward the TV room. “Apparently Lucia will need your support when CNN comes back from commercial.”

“
What?”
I barely felt my mom and brother brush past me as China led them inside.

His eyes held the hint of an apology. “China said they’re about to show footage of you being rolled to the ambulance again. Only this time they’re promising to explain why you collapsed.”

My hand darted to cover my mouth. They didn’t know, did they?

Dane inched toward me. “You don’t have to watch if you don’t want to. I’ll, I’ll ask Brad to drive us somewhere. Take us away from here.”

That
did
sound appealing, after the day I’d had. But, wait, this was Dane. Could I trust him? I wanted to. Refusing to engage took a lot of energy. I blinked up at him, wondering why was he being so nice to me.

I guess I hesitated too long, because he frowned.

“You probably don’t want to do that—just take off with somebody like me—especially when your family’s here.” His head hung low and his hands found his pockets again.

Somebody like me?
What had happened to the cocky Great Dane? Whatever his mistakes, somebody like
him
would be great to take off with, throw my cares to the wind. But carefree wasn’t my life, and it wasn’t his life either. Once our parents had chosen to run for president, carefree had flown out the window.

Remembering Matty’s look of fear in the ER, I retracted my shoulders. “I better go in there. I have to start facing my problems instead of avoiding them.”

Dane looked up, his blue eyes smoldering, and I wondered if the problems I’d referred to were about my eating or my complicated feelings for him. Too tired to figure it out now, I walked into the TV room just in time to see a coiffed brunette reporter’s talking head next to video of me on a gurney.

“This afternoon at Highbanks University, Lucia Ramirez, daughter of Republican presidential nominee Adolfo Ramirez, collapsed at volleyball practice.”

As my mother caught my eye from her seat on the sofa, I felt Dane come up behind me. His presence sent tingles up my spine.

“Emergency workers took her to University Hospital, where she was discharged this evening. But what caused her to collapse? According to an unidentified source…”

I held my breath.

“Lucia Ramirez is suffering from an eating disorder.”

I stopped breathing.

“Obviously Ms. Ramirez isn’t handling the pressure of her father’s nomination well. We have with us psychiatrist Walter Downing from Emory University Medical Center. Doctor, please educate us on how an eating disorder could lead to collapse…”

I felt wetness on my face and realized I’d started crying.
Lead to collapse, lead to collapse
…how could my mortifying weakness lead to the collapse of my father’s campaign? I alone would be responsible for my dad losing the election—for my dad losing his dream. When I swayed to my left, Dane grabbed me.

“Just how did they get that information?” my mother screeched as she bolted off the sofa.

Allison and China stood as well. “We’ll find out,” Allison said.

I had to admit Dane’s solid hands cradling my elbows felt good. He guided me to the sofa and helped me sit, then crouched down to search my eyes. “So it’s true?”

More tears leaked out, and I looked away. “This is so humiliating.”

“Is
that
why you’ve avoided me?” I looked at him to find a weird smile on his face. “You’ve been withdrawing from everyone.”

Before I could try to make sense of Dane’s babble, Mateo scooted over and patted my shoulder. “It’s okay, Lucy. Nobody will believe them.”

“
Everyone
will believe them.” To my horror, I started crying harder. Now Dane got a good look at my snotty, blotchy ugliness. “I’ll ruin Dad’s chances.”

“That’s not true.” Dane frowned. “The media doesn’t expect us to be perfect.”

“Yeah, if you’re a Democrat.” I sniffed.

Dane stood and headed to the kitchen. Apparently he couldn’t stand the sight of my blubbering mess. But then he was back, kneeling down and handing me some tissues.

“Thanks.” As I plucked one from the box, I looked up to see my mother staring at us. My chest seized with panic. Could she read my attraction?

“Well, folks, we have even more news today from Highbanks University.”

The reporter’s amused tone cut through the chatter in the room, and it grew quiet as all eyes focused on the TV.

“Lucia Ramirez isn’t the only student-athlete who had a bad day. Earlier we showed footage of Dane Monroe, son of Democratic nominee for president Senator Lois Monroe, making a break for it outside his living quarters.”

A video of Dane scaling the greenhouse gates filled the screen, and I gasped. “When did
that
happen?”

He’d swiveled on one knee to face the TV, and I could see a blush creep up his neck. “When you were in the hospital.” His voice was tight and low.

“But why?”

“Now we know why Mr. Monroe was so eager to get away from Secret Service. Beverly Jackson of WBNT News provided this footage.”

“Fuck.”

His utterance was so soft that I was the only one who heard it. I watched with fascinated horror as the grainy video of Dane guzzling a bottle of beer flashed on the screen. He was in some sort of vehicle—
oh, no
—he started in on another bottle and the liquid disappeared with dam-breaking speed.

Then he lowered the bottle and closed his eyes. “
God, I love beer
.”

“Her cell phone camera,” he murmured as he sank to the floor in front of me. “I’m so screwed.”

“That was quite a show today: an eating disorder and underage binge drinking.”
The reporter turned to the stupid psychiatrist, who was still on set.
“Dr. Downing, what’s causing this acting out? Is it tied to the stress of being the child of a presidential candidate?”

“Ya think?” Dane hissed. He massaged his forehead with his palms as my mother gestured wildly above us, yammering about security leaks with Allison and security breakdowns with China.

Shaking his head at Dane, Mateo snorted. “I can’t believe you did that. You’re sooo busted.”

“No doubt. I royally screwed the pooch.” Dane flexed his hands then turned them over and stared at his palms. “That asshole stunt just ended my volleyball career.”

I inhaled sharply. He looked so defeated! What would he do if Phil kicked him off the team? I touched his shoulder. “Don’t say that. You love volleyball. You’ve got to fight to keep playing.”

When he glanced sideways at my hand on his shoulder, I snatched it back. Why was I voluntarily touching him like that?

“I hope you don’t get kicked off the team,” Mateo offered. “Lucia told me you’re an awesome setter.”

Dane’s eyes moved to my face, which flamed with heat. “She did?”

I looked away, only to notice my mother staring at us again. I swallowed.

Mateo said, “Actually, we should thank Dane for being such an idiot, Luce. He took the heat off you.”

Dane nodded slowly. “You know, he’s right.” He managed a smile—quite a different look from his earlier self-flagellation. “The story became about the pressure we both face. At least
something
good came out of my insanity.”

“I would hardly call you a hero,” my mother snapped. “Mateo,
ven acá
. Help me in the kitchen.”

I could tell she was worried Mateo might think Dane’s beer binge was cool. But it wasn’t like my brother had the chance to hang out with kids from the bad crowd, or hang out with kids at all—not with the Secret Service shadowing his every move. Mateo rolled his eyes but followed her.

“
I
think you’re a hero,” I whispered once they’d left. “You busted out of our prison.”

“It
was
pretty sweet.” His smile broadened.

An hour later, I sat at the table with a huge plate of food glaring at me, and Brad’s moans of pleasure filling the kitchen. “Mrs. Ramirez…” He spoke between bites, standing by the fridge. “This is the
best
enchilada I’ve ever had!”

“It’s not spicy enough,” my mother scoffed as she leaned on the counter. Where had she gotten her apron? “What respectable kitchen doesn’t have jalapeños?”

She was fishing for compliments.

Dane’s fork scraped against his plate. “Could I have another,
Señora?”

That was the best compliment he could’ve given. My mother
tsked
, but took Dane’s plate and handed it back to him loaded up with two more enchiladas. Then she filled a glass with ice and water from the fridge and set it down by his plate. “No Corona for you.” She smacked his head.

“Ow.” Dane rubbed his ear.

Mateo laughed. “Better you than me, bro.” He shoveled a bite into his mouth.

“
Hija
.” Mom glanced at my uneaten food.

“But I ate at the hospital.”

“Small, frequent meals, sweetheart.” She leaned close so the four agents snarfing her cooking around us couldn’t hear. “You can do it.”

This was
small?
My heart pounded. I felt Dane’s gaze and managed to look up at him. His eyes seemed sad, but he gave a slight nod, like he urged me to take a bite.

“Did I tell you about the hotel fire alarm last year?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“We were at an away match, at Penn State, and some idiot pulled the fire alarm at three a.m. We all had to go to the hotel parking lot. It was February, and
freezing
, and Josh…” Dane glanced at Mateo. “He’s my best friend on the team. Anyway, Josh waltzes out of the hotel wearing only his underwear and flip-flops.”

As Mateo snickered, I managed a bite of tortilla and chicken.

“Tell me you snapped a photo of that,” Mateo said.

“Are you kidding? No way I’d miss that Kodak moment.” He whipped his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his photos.

My fork suspended in midair as Mateo and I looked at Mom.

“What?” Dane asked, noticing we’d frozen.

“
Mamá
doesn’t let us have phones at the dinner table,” Mateo explained.