Page 12 of No Saint
Her everything…
Jesus, a two-minute exchange with my ex and I’d practically become a sniveling, impotent jackass.
“Weren’t you about to show me the championship trophy in your room?” Blondie smiled, tracing her fingers over my stomach.
Yeah, a few minutes ago, I’d had every intention of taking her upstairs and using her to chase a much-needed release, but something about the way she slipped her fingers beneath the hem of my shirt—the same way Jade used to—caused a pit of disgust to take root in my gut. For the life of me, I couldn’t do it.
“Changed my mind,” I said, shouldering past her and into the crowded party.
God, was I annoyed with myself. I couldn’t enjoy the girls dancing on the table or an easy lay. I needed a damn beer.
I headed toward the front of the house, debating on doing a keg stand on the porch, but right before I reached the door, someone stopped me to offer congratulations for my play at Saturday’s game. Maybe it made me sound like a dick, but thanks to my blackened-by-Jade mood, I could hardly grunt an acknowledgement.
I was just about to excuse myself when the song blasting through the speakers abruptly cut off. A collective groan broke out before the eeriech-ch-ch ah-ah-ahfrom theFriday the 13thmovies echoed through the house.
“It’s Jason Voorhees!” A boom of laughter followed that comment, and my attention shot to the stairwell where afrazzled-looking Jade descended into the crowded living room, Cassie right behind her.
A random guy raised his hand, mimicking a stabbing motion as the girls headed for the exit. That video was going to haunt her—and me—for the rest of her life. I was absolutely doing a keg stand. A few more Jason Voorhees comments floated around the crowd as I shouldered my way onto the porch, telling myself I wasn’t scanning the dark yard in an attempt to find her. Like a homing beacon, I spotted her crossing the street beneath the glow of the streetlight.
I’d just stepped up to the keg when a guy beside me snorted into his cup. “Who knew Benchwarmer Brent could lay down dick good enough to make the hot, geeky chick crazy?”
That was the final piece of dry straw tossed onto the fire burning through me. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop the visual of Brent fucking Jade from playing through my head like some B-rated porno reel. My jaw tensed at the thought of his lips on hers, or her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her. A sick, green plume of jealousy rose in my chest.
A rap song—one I’d once fucked Jade to—exploded through the speakers, and now all I could see was her fucking Brent to that beat. God, I wanted to strangle the guy who’d just sent my already rattled nerves over the edge. I turned to him, and he glanced up, lowering his beer.
“Uh, h-hey, Wolf. Great game la?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” I said, watching Jade slip behind the wheel of her Jeep parked down the road. I did not need this shit. I grabbed a Solo cup and the nozzle to the keg, waiting for her headlights to turn on. Her engine backfired over the music when she pulled off. I thought seeing her get the hell out of there would grant me some sense of peace. It fucking didn’t. Not even a sliver.
Bellamy shouldered between two guys waiting in line for a beer. “Guess Jade didn’t like the fact that you stole that piece of shit’s car?”
“Something like that.” Honestly, I couldn’t figure out why she’d shown up. She knew me better than anyone, which meant, she knew damn well that she, of all people, wouldn’t have been able to pry that money from my cold, dead fingers. In the same token, I knew her, which meant I’d been well aware she wouldn’t let me have it without some kind of repercussion. And maybe that was what I’d wanted when I decided to take that car. To get under her skin.
To prove to myself I’d had some kind of worth to her—good or bad. Because until that very moment, she’d acted like we’d never existed together. Fuck, I’d forgotten how much that had hurt, and I wanted to forget it all over again.
I filled my beer, downed it, then grabbed the nozzle and placed my hands on the metal lid of the keg and nodded at Bell. “Help me out, asshole.” If I had to down the whole fucking keg to get Jade out of my mind, I would.
I ended up drinking myself to the point of passing out, and did I ever pay for that at the next morning’s six am scrimmage.
Sun blazed across the field, and the second I stepped out from the shade of the stadium, the thick Alabama heat made me want to puke.
“All right, boys. Let’s get this show on the road.” Coach blew his whistle, and the team jogged onto the fifty-yard line.
Of course, Brent-fucking-Baker lined up across from me. And that image of him with Jade bubbled like a poisoned cauldron. Jade had asked for a “break.” I gave her space. I’d thought we’d figure it out. But instead, she went to Myrtle Beach with him for the summer. Of course, Monroe had tried toconvince me they were just friends, that he was trying to help her through a tough time. Bullshit. Guys aren’t friends with girls—at least not hot girls like Jade. Any guy will take an opportunity if it presents itself, and present itself it did, because they were dating by that fall. Thank God, Jade never came to the games when they were dating. Probably because Baker was a daddy-knows-somebody walk-on who never set foot on the field during a game. That made it easier to ignore that they were together, but now I couldn’t get the thought of him “putting down really good dick” out of my head. And God, did it make me angry.
I glared through my helmet at his stupid face, hating that he’d ended up with the only girl I’d ever wanted. Had he not swooped in that summer and dug in his claws, Jade and I could have worked things out. She would have come back to Dayton, and I never would have ended up dating Nora as a rebound, as a shitty-ass Band-Aid for the bullet wound Jade had left in my heart. If it hadn’t been for that shithead right across from me, Jade would have been there when I needed her most. That dickface motherfucker had screwed up the most important part of my life, and nothing had been right since. Tension bled from my head to my toes. My teeth clamped down on my guard. My fingers dug into the damp ground. I wanted to kill the fucker.
Williams, the team’s safety, got in line beside me, and Coach blew the whistle.
I charged ahead, ramming my shoulder into Brent’s pad and knocking him to the ground harder than necessary. His helmet cracked against the grass. Spittle flew from his mouth when his mouthguard shot out, and when the little pussy groaned and rolled into the fetal position, it took everything in me not to spit on him.
Williams offered Brent his hand and hoisted him to his feet. “What the hell, Brookes?” he shouted.
“Dude, not my fault.” I shrugged a shoulder before taking my place again. “He’s lighter than a piece of shit.”
For the rest of practice, every time I looked at him, I thought about him being the guy Jade “had loved” when it used to be me. That made me want to rip his head from his scrawny shoulders, but since that would be murder, I chose to sack him every chance I got.
Coach blew the whistle, signaling the end of practice. I tore off my helmet, wiping sweat from my brow as I jogged off with the rest of the players.
