Page 7 of Hard Count
“You will drown yourself in that,” she says.
“It’s oversized. It’s supposed to be like this.”
“Have you seen your body?” She folds her jeans and throws them in the cart. “You don’t cover that up.” She gives me a pointed look.
“I don’t always.” I toss the shirt in the cart. “I’m wearing a cropped shirt today.” I wave a hand over my midriff where my top skims the edge of my cutoff shorts.
“Oh yes, it’s so daring. I think I see a whole centimeter of skin,” she teases.
“But when I lift my arms it’s borderline indecent.” I throw my hands to the sky sending her into a fit of giggles.
“That’s why most of us wear bras in public.” She pushes the cart toward the home decor section.
“Eh.” I wave her off. “I don’t know anyone in town yet. The chances of me running into someone I recognize are literally zero percent.” I form a circle with my fingers.
“Just so you know we’ve already passed about fifteen Newhouse students since we’ve been here.”
I glance down at my chest. The graphic printed on the front covers any possible nipple situation but I’m a little more self conscious knowing my future classmates could potentially be walking around the store.
Campus life back in Florida was the same. You couldn’t go anywhere within thirty miles without being forced to socialize with someone from a class or a neighbor. I didn’t mind. I loved my life. The fact I’ve been forced to transfer and relocate to Newhouse like a pawn in their never ending game won’t be forgotten.
I should be used to it by now. My parents have been doing this my whole life. When they were married it would be small things like winning me over with a new toy or taking me out for ice cream dates. Once they got divorced it escalated. I was never a child for them to love. I was a weapon they used to hurt each other. That’s how it felt at least. Neither one of them bothered to make sure I thought otherwise.
“What do you think of this one?” I point to a floral quilted comforter. She yawns in response. “Do you see something better?”
“Anything else. Literally anything else would be better.” She strolls down the aisle pushing the cart along while her eyes search for another option. “You need a color that complimentsyour hair and skin tone. Maybe green to bring out your eyes.”
“Why?” I zip open one of the comforters in the plastic casings and run my hand over the fabric.Too scratchy. “Something warm, soft, and pretty should be the only requirements.”
“And also something that makes you look good.” She turns her back and leans against a red comforter that makes her dark hair pop. “When I’m spread out like a three course meal I want to look hot enough he comes back for seconds.” She winks. Then moves down to the floral quilt I originally picked out. “Which one has a better dining experience?”
“Fine. Fine. Point made,” I say, laughing. “What about this emerald green one?” I pose in front of it. “Do I look tempting?”
“Yes. I would be getting my loyalty card punched by you every day.” She laughs.
“I can’t say no to that.” Even though I’m not here to meet anyone. I wouldn’t turn down a hookup. A flash of Nash Pierce’s smirk enters my mind. I can’t believe I ran into him at a hotel bar of all places. I was only there because it was convenient and the wings are really good. Why was he there? And why was he alone? I figure he’d rather be surrounded by his friends and teammates. Maybe even a girlfriend if he has one.
Dropping by his practice a week ago was a last minute decision. I was on my way to meet my dad for a late breakfast and somehow landed in the parking lot of the practice fieldinstead. I may have told him I found his performance lackluster, but he’s always impressed me.
It’s why I said what I did. He has the natural talent to make it to the pros. That’s if he learns to get out of his own way. Getting into fights with his teammates isn’t doing him any favors. What could Trey have said to set him off?
I don’t need to know the answer to that question. I don’t need to have Nash Pierce on my mind period. Especially not in relation to me being laid out on my bed like an all you can eat buffet.
I search through the plastic bags of bedding until I find the green color I like in a size full and add it to our cart. We head to pick out sheets next. Of course the ones I want are on the very top shelf.
“Do you want me to help you?” Frankie asks as I step onto the bottom shelf.
“No, I got it.” My voice strains as I attempt to reach the ones I need. Even on my tippy toes, I’m still too far away. I climb to the next shelf. It would be nice if they were a little more organized. It’s in complete disarray up here. Nothing is sorted by size or color. I push a few sheet sets out of the way on the shelf that’s eye level so I can lean on it for leverage.
“Where were you today?” A deep voice carries over from the next aisle. Frankie gasps behind me. I glance over my shoulder. She shakes her head and places a finger over her mouth. “Our new neighbors moved in and Ozzy offered up our services.”
“Damn. I missed hauling furniture off the truck and carrying it up and down the stairs? I’m gutted. Do I even want to know how you got wrapped up in that?”
When I hear Nash’s voice ring in my ears, my feet slip out from underneath me and my arm slams on the metal shelving when I try to catch myself. I wince at the loud noise it creates. I glance over my shoulder at Frankie again. She motions for me to hurry up. Is she worried about running into Newhouse’s star quarterback or maybe it’s his friend she’s concerned about?
“Pretty sure Ozzy thought one of them was cute.”
“That tracks. To answer your question, I was watching game film,” Nash says.
