Blocked (37 page)

When I didn’t respond right away, he added, “Because it’s your birthday?”

I couldn’t believe I was now twenty years old. Hopefully two decades of fuck-ups wouldn’t carry through to my third decade. “Maybe.” I thought of another answer. “Actually, I think the meditation helped me concentrate.”

He nodded. In the locker room, before practice started, we’d focused on our breath for five minutes, silently repeating the mantra
Just this…one moment
.

“Sounds like meditation should be part of your pre-game routine, then.”

“Okay.” I trusted Phil. He could tell me to stand on my head before games while I smoked a peace pipe and painted my toenails hot pink, and I’d do it—no questions asked.

“Also sounds like my concerns about Lucia hurting your focus are unfounded.”

A tendril of unease snaked up my spine as I remembered his words from a week ago, the night Lucia and I had played volleyball together. “Well, it’s not that serious—it’s only been a week. And the media shitheads haven’t caught on yet.”
Thank God
.

“But she wants it to be serious.”

I looked at him. “Why do you say
that?”
A little thrill zinged inside of me. Could he see we belonged together, despite his misgivings?

He paused. “Did she tell you she talked to me?”

“No?” My forehead creased.

“After your dumbass explosion—your alcohol binge. Lucia came to my office, asked me to keep you on the team.”

Holy shit
. I stared at him as I took that in.

“She said you were under a lot of pressure, said you deserved another chance.”

That was possibly the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for me. But why hadn’t she told me? “Is she the reason I’m back on the team?”

Phil shrugged. “I’d already planned to take you back, once I found out you had to go to counseling. Assuming you took responsibility for your behavior, of course. But her pleading for you like that…it told me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re
screwed
.”

He grinned, and I managed a limp chuckle. “Tell me something I don’t know, Phil.”

“I warned you about conflict with Lucia attracting the media like flies to honey.” He smirked. “But I should’ve known your bluster—your insistence that you hated her—was merely foreplay. And when those reporters sniff
this
out, they’ll swarm you both.”

I groaned.

“Just be smarter this time, okay?”

I understood his hidden message:
Don’t knock up another girl
. “It’s not…” I skated my thumbs inside the sweaty waistband of my shorts. This was as embarrassing as fuck. “It’s not like that with us.” I hoped it
could
be like that one day, but it was probably true that neither of us was ready for sex. At least that’s what Dr. Valentine had gotten me to confess in my last weekly appointment.

Phil cupped my shoulder as he pegged me with a stare. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

As he walked away, a lump lodged in my throat. My dad had never expressed faith in me like that.

I headed out of the gym, with Brad on my heels, and was almost to the locker room when I noticed Lucia and Allison at the other end of the hallway. Why was her arm slung over Lucia’s shoulders, like she was comforting her? What had made Lucia look so downcast?

“Hey!” I called.

She brightened when she saw me and practically skipped down the hallway. “Happy birthday!”

I would have loved to scoop her into my arms, but I was sweaty, and the agents were right there. “You already wished me happy birthday this morning.”

Brad lifted his fist to his mouth and between pretend coughs he said, “In
bed
.”

When Lucia’s cheeks reddened, I scowled at him. “What are you, thirteen?” So much for keeping our relationship secret from our constant chaperones.

“The Bridgetown team bus has just arrived.” Allison touched her earpiece. “Let’s get out of the hallway.” She ushered us into a dark alcove filled with gymnastics equipment, then gave me a knowing look. “We’ll give you some privacy.”

My sweaty shirt felt clammy in the coolness, which drew me closer to Lucia’s warmth. I caressed her thick braid. “Why’d you look upset earlier?”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing. How’s your birthday been? I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Luz
, dímelo
.”
Tell me
.

She sighed. “My mom called. She and Matty were supposed to come to my game, but his blood sugar numbers are all over the place, so they can’t make it.”

“That’s too bad.” My hand curled the tip of her braid up to her mouth, tickling her lips. When her tongue swept across her upper lip, I felt a shiver vibrate my chest.

“At least I’ll see them tomorrow night,” she said.

I scowled. My mom and sister had given me the same excuse about failing to visit:
We’ll see you at the debate
. “But it still sucks for your family to miss your biggest college match yet.”

“And for your family to miss your birthday.”

I shrugged. “Less sneaking around for us.”

Her smile stretched across her face. As she leaned into me, her hands slid beneath my shirt and spanned my hips.

“I’m all gross from practice.” I recoiled a bit.

“You always smell yummy to me.”

Her breathy voice and sassy grin reeled me back in. As my mouth found hers, I drowned in her soft lips and intoxicating floral scent.
You smell yummy, too
. I cradled her head as our kiss deepened.

My hands drifted to her shoulders when our kiss ended, and she gazed up at me. “October twenty-fourth. You’re a Scorpio,
sí?”

“You’re into
astrology?”
I felt my eyebrows lift.

“Don’t be a hater. It’s mostly
ridículo
, but I read up on it, and I think your sign’s perfect for you.”

“Yeah…I’m a scorpion, stinging you with my venomous, ah,
appendage?”

“
Ew
. No.” She wrinkled her nose as she giggled. “But you’re radiant, passionate, and, um, energetic.” Her head bobbed. “Yep, that’s you.”

“I see. You just had your birthday—what’s
your
sign, baby?” My eyes traveled lecherously up her body.

She swallowed. “Virgo.”

“The virgin.”

Her blush bloomed like the White House rose garden. “It’s not a literal translation. But Virgos are supposed to be modest.”

“That
is
you.” I nodded. Sweetness also had to be part of her birth sign if there was any validity whatsoever to astrology.

“And Virgos are perfectionists.” Her eyes rolled.

I’d read somewhere that perfectionism was a risk factor for eating disorders, so that fit her too. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was beating up on herself for falling short of perfect at that very moment. “No wonder you’re attracted to me.” I let go of her shoulders to gesture to myself. “Sheer perfection right here.”

“Gag.” She laughed.

I laughed too, feeling happy I’d coaxed her out of her funk. My hands found their way to her hips.

“What time are the guys coming over for euchre?”

“Soon—better hit the showers. You better get dressed for warm-up, too. After the game I want to talk to you about—”

I heard a scuffling patter of footsteps and spun around to find Nina screeching to an abrupt halt, with Allison and Brad zooming up behind her. I sprang back from Lucia, but the fury in Nina’s eyes told me she’d seen enough. We were busted.

Nina’s chest heaved. “When I saw both your agents, I
knew
you were together.”

“I tried to stop her.” Brad grimaced. “But I didn’t want to tackle her.”

“Nina,” Lucia said, “this just…happened. I meant to tell you.”

But Nina wasn’t looking at her. She glared right at me. “You’re a
bastard
, Dane.”

She was right. Though I was still angry with her for lying to Lucia, I knew I’d made a mess of things when we were together.

Nina pushed past Brad and Allison and stormed off.

“Nina!” Lucia called. She started to take off, then turned to look at me. “See you tonight?”

I nodded. As I watched her chase after her teammate, I winced and looked down at my feet. No perfection here.
No perfection at all
.

“You didn’t get any veggie pizza?” Josh asked as he frowned at the steaming box.

“Oops, forgot. Sorry, dude.” I lifted a huge slice of pepperoni, and a mouth-watering string of cheese dangled over the edge of my plate.

Pete jostled between Josh and me to grab the next piece. “Since when do you care about veggies?”

“Since he became vegetarian,” I said. “Just pick the meat off, Josh.” I shoved a huge bite in my mouth. “Hot, hot, hah…” With my taste buds now singed, I spit out a half-chewed glob of cheese and crust onto my plate.

“Classy.” Josh grinned. “A stunt like that’ll go over
great
at the next state dinner.”

My stomach clenched. Would my mother win? Or would Lucia’s dad reign victorious? The race was still neck-and-neck, and tomorrow’s debate made me nervous.

Pete frowned at Josh. “Dude, how’re you gonna survive as a vegetarian?”

“I know. It’s dumb.” I blew on my pizza. “He’ll never be able to get enough calories.”

“Bra, I want to take care of my body.” Josh picked pepperonis off his slice and flicked them to the side of his plate. “It’s my machine.”

“If you’re so concerned about your body,” I said, “maybe you should stop smoking weed.”

Josh shot a glance toward Brad, who had piled three slices onto his own plate. “Ixnay on the eedway.”

“Relax, Brad won’t tell.” The only reason Brad was part of our euchre foursome in the first place was that the agents hadn’t had time to move more of my teammates through security clearance. It was hard enough to get Josh and Pete through the doors.
What a rocking birthday party
. Not only was the guest list small, I also felt guilty for hanging at the greenhouse while Lucia had nobody supporting her at her game. Maybe Nina had already blabbed our relationship status, but without knowing for sure, I didn’t want to tell the guys why I had a sudden interest in watching the women’s game.

Brad sat across the table from Pete. “Tell me you know how to play euchre, Marine.” I didn’t want this to be a repeat of clueless Kaitlyn that night at Josh’s apartment.

“Chill, amigo. I had some guys from the Midwest in my platoon, so they taught me all the tricks.”

“We’ll see about that.” When I risked another bite, I didn’t fry my mouth this time. My phone buzzed in my pocket with a text from Jessica:

Happy birthday, old man! :)

I smiled as I remembered how mature twenty sounded when I’d been sixteen. Too bad I didn’t actually feel so mature. It would be rude to keep texting when I had guests, so I typed a brief response.

Thanks, little girl. About to deliver the smackdown
in euchre—see ya tomorrow.

As we chomped on pizza and guzzled pop—another lame feature of the Secret Service-Sponsored Birthday Bash—I dealt out four hands of five cards each.

“So, we have to let you win ’cause it’s your birthday?” Pete asked.

I grinned across the table at Josh. “There’ll be no need. Josh and I are unbeatable.”

But a little while later we were down nine to six (thanks to Pete’s frigging loner) when Brad got a call. “Gotta take this—it’s China.” He stepped out of the kitchen.