Offside (41 page)

Tuesday was a whole different story.

Dad was home as soon as I walked through the door, standing in the entryway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You're not practicing at lunchtime,” he said.

I swallowed and slowly lowered my book bag to the floor.

“There was…uh…”

“Don't you bullshit me.”

I froze, bracing myself.

“You really have a thing for her, don't you?”

I glanced up at his face and was a little confused by his expression. He didn't seem angry—he was more…introspective. I took another breath and took the chance.

Like an idiot.

“Kind of,” I said quietly.

“Do you think your timing could have possibly been worse?” He hissed out the last few words, dropped his hands to his sides, and balled them into fists.

Shit.

“She's not hurting my game,” I tried to tell him.

“Not taking the chance,” he replied. “You're done with her.”

Done with her.

Done with Nicole.

My Rumple.

“I don't want to—”

“I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU WANT!” he screamed. I jumped back as his fist collided with the wall and left a gaping hole in the plaster. “No piece of pussy is going to ruin your chances, you hear me? This ends now! Call her now!”

With my heart pounding in my chest and the heat of rage climbing up my face, I took a single step forward and glared at him.

“No!” I yelled back.

My dad's face went blank, and when he spoke, he was far too calm.

“Come in here,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

He turned on his heel and went into the kitchen. I followed, reluctantly.

The kitchen table was littered with photographs.

Oh fuck.

I turned my head away immediately. My mind had already conjured up what those images might have entailed, and I didn't need the constant reminder of what had happened to her. Even though I knew it was too late to expunge my brain, I wasn't going to look any more.

“I'll fucking post them all over town,” he said, and he handed me the phone. “Call her. Now.”

Shakespeare said, “So quick bright things come to confusion.” Somehow, I couldn't have agreed more.

Now it was over.

CHAPTER 22

PENALTY

I rolled onto my side and wrapped my arms around my stomach. I would rather have taken a ball from a pro striker at ten feet away right to my gut than to have to relive that conversation again.

But I would relive it.

Over and over again.

Ring…

“
Hey.”

“
Hey, Thomas! What’s up?”

My Dad crossed his arms and stared at me. I tried to turn away from him a little, giving myself the lame illusion of privacy.

“
Nothing. Just needed to talk to ya.” I was suddenly glad I was wearing my practice shirt with my number on it. The costume fit, at least. I took a deep breath, stood up straight, and squared my shoulders. “We’re done.”

“
Done with what?”

Shit.

“
Us, babe,” I told her. “You and me. Not working out. Tried this boyfriend shit, and this just isn’t working for me.”

Better this way…at least I hadn’t fucked her.

He wouldn’t hurt her if I did what he said. I glanced up at him, and he was smirking.

“
Thomas…what do you mean?” Her voice was so soft, and I felt my gut wrench.

“
It should be pretty fucking obvious,” I snapped at her.

“
Is your dad there?” Again, her voice was so soft. “Is he making you do this?”

No…Rumple…please don’t go there.

“
No, I’m just tired of playing this game,” I told her. “You’re red-carded. Thrown out. No longer interested. You get it?”

“
But…Thomas…everything was fine—”

“
Maybe you thought it was.” I forced my voice to stay light-hearted, cool, and callous. Yeah, it was all of those. “You do give a good hand job, but it’s just not worth my time anymore.”

You have to believe me…you aren’t safe around me anymore. You probably never were.

“
Thomas, what the hell is wrong with you?” she finally yelled. “You aren’t making any sense!”

“
It’s pretty simple,” I told her. “Get your own fucking ride to school, bitch.”

I hung up.

“
That’s my boy.” Dad clasped me on the shoulder. “Someday you’ll understand why I do these things for you.”

I didn’t think I would ever really understand.

She tried to talk to me in the hallway at school Wednesday, but I turned and walked away from her. I didn’t go to the lunchroom at all—just went straight to the practice field with Paul and Clint. She came out and tried to interrupt our practice, but I told her to fuck off and headed into the locker room.

I changed the ringtone, shut off my phone, and deleted my IM account.

I managed to totally avoid her the rest of the day.

I pushed all thoughts of her from my mind and thought of nothing but my game. At night it was different because my mind kept replaying every time I saw her eyes meet mine in the hallway. I could see the sadness and the lack of understanding in them. I could see the questions on her face, but I couldn’t reply to them.

It was better this way—quick and hard.

She’d heal faster, and she was strong—so fucking strong. I knew she’d be okay. Better off, really. What could I actually offer her long-term?

Nothing, that’s what.

On Thursday, Jeremy tried to bring her up to me, and I told him to fuck off, too.

Kick, pass, run, catch, throw, punt.

It was all I allowed myself to think about.

Friday.

Mind in the game—nothing else.

I saw nothing but the ball and the players.

Still scoreless at the end of the second half, but that also meant
I
hadn’t fucked anything up. I knew they were out there—Wayne Messini and whoever might have accompanied him from Real Messini. They were watching me, not the strikers. I didn’t let it stress me.

Just me and the ball and the net.

Nothing else mattered.

Klosav scored at the end of the second half.

I win.

Ha!

Fuckers.

Coach Wagner yelled for me as I walked out of the shower, explaining that there was someone outside waiting for me with my dad. I acknowledged him and started getting my stuff together.

“Is it true?” Jeremy dropped down on the bench next to me.

“What?”

“That one of the Messini brothers is out there waiting to talk to you?”

“Oh…yeah.”

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy repeated. “Dude—that’s major!”

I nodded.

“Holy shit.”

“I better go,” I said as I stood up, buttoned up my jeans, and headed out. Dad was right by the exit.

“That was a damn fine game, son!” Dad beamed as I walked out of the locker room with my hair still wet. He was standing with a tall, pale-faced man and a young blonde woman dressed in a tight red shirt. I recognized him immediately.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Wayne Messini, may I present my son, Thomas Malone—keeper prodigy.”

“It’s a pleasure, Thomas,” the pale, black-haired man said as he reached for my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” I replied. “Hopefully, I did not disappoint.”

“Not at all—you have some very impressive moves!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Thomas,” Wayne reached down and grabbed the blonde by the hand. She sauntered up beside him and licked her red lips as she looked at me. “This is Tiffany. She works with some of the players for Real Messini.”

“Hello,” I said. She reached out her hand and I took it briefly. She raised her eyebrows at me and obviously looked me up and down.

“I bet you’re hungry after all of that running around,” Dad said. “Let’s go have some dinner in town and talk a bit.”

I ate, but my stomach wasn’t too happy about it. Food wasn’t sitting well in general, but I wouldn’t let myself think about that, either. I hadn’t really had much to eat for a few days—worried about the game, I guessed. I ate too much, and my stomach rebelled. I excused myself and went to the men’s room.

When I stepped back out, Tiffany was there, waiting for me. I almost ran right into her.

“You really played an excellent game,” she hummed at me. She placed her hands on my shoulders and then ran them down my arms. She took a step closer to me and tilted her head to be close to mine. “Wayne’s impressed.”

“That’s good,” I said. I wanted to take a step back, but the door was right behind me.

“Very good,” she said. Her hands went back to my shoulders, and then she drew her fingers down my chest. “You are definitely going to be fun to play with.”

Her nails scratched over my abdomen. I had to swallow hard to form any words.

“What do you do, exactly?” I asked.

“I keep the boys happy,” she responded with a smile. “In whatever way they like.”

Fuck me hard.

“Oh, really?” I stammered. My teen hormones were perking up and starting to take notice, but a flash of blue eyes in my head fought against them.

“You will make a fine, fine addition to the team.” Tiffany hummed into my ear as her hand slid down over the front of my jeans.

I moved my hands to her hips rather instinctively or maybe reflexively. I stroked slowly up her sides and looked down at the tightly wrapped tits in front of me. I could clearly see the outline of her nipples through her shirt.