Page 6 of Hold Me Closer
I flinch, feeling like he knocked the breath out of me. He doesn't want me in his life. The truth hurts like hell. But I blink back the tears and nod. "I understand," I say, trying desperately to keep breathing as my throat threatens to close up. "Enjoy your new college life, Mateo."
"Nadia, dammit, wait."
"Go to hell," I whisper, stumbling away from him.
"Nadia, please," he whispers, his voice rough. "Please, talk to me."
"You've said enough, and you're right," I call over my shoulder, tears slipping down my cheeks. "I shouldn't be wasting my time, and I shouldn't be in your life."
I should have taken the stupid science class and graduated early. Maybe then I wouldn't remember the way his lips feel against mine or have the memory of him saying the words I've dreamed about for so damn long—words he never meant at all.
He doesn't love me, not the way I love him. If he did, I don't think it'd hurt like this. You don't lie to the people you love. You don't pick everything except them. And you don't break them into tiny pieces, either.
"Nadia, butterfly," he pleads. "I love you. Please don't do this."
But I didn't do it. He did. He chose football over me—over us—and he wasn't even man enough to admit it. Instead, he made it my fault. Poor little Nadia, too dumb to make her own choices.
Well, screw that. He made this choice. He can live with it.
Chapter One
Teo
Now
"They still haven't thrown your pathetic ass out of the league?" Greg Aldersgate asks, sneering through his helmet as he crouches in front of me on the twenty-yard line.
There's less than a minute left on the clock, and we've been demolishing the Colonials all day. They don't have a chance in hell of catching up now. Aldersgate is being a little bitch about it, naturally.
"Fuck off, Aldersgate," I snap, trying to focus on the last bit of the game and not this prick. I swear to Christ, every time we cross paths, he starts his bullshit. All because he can't take a beating like a man. If he knew how to keep his hands off women, he wouldn't have to worry about it. But he never learned that lesson.
We were roommates in college—hell, we were the best of friends—until we were both drafted to the league our junior year. Then he decided to smack his girlfriend around.
The best thing I ever did was smackhimaround when I saw the bruises he left on her. He was almost booted from the league when I reported what happened. And he's never forgiven me for it. Like I care. I may be an asshole, but at least I'm an asshole with integrity and a moral compass. He lacks both.
"Aww, did I hurt your feelings?" he asks like this is a playground instead of a televised football game we're being paid millions to play. Then again, mentally, he never left the playground. Bullies rarely do. "Or are you still moping about your little girlfriend?"
My jaw clenches, and I take a deep breath, trying not to react. But it's already too late for that. As soon as he mentionsher, my heart twinges like it always does, pain radiating through my entire system.
Christ, Nadia.
She's a phantom ache, one that never heals no matter how long she's been missing from my life. And this prick knows it, damn him. I never should have told him about her. But I was weak and in pain, and he acted like he really gave a damn. So I spilled my fucking heart out to him.
Big mistake.
He makes sure to twist that knife as deep as he can at every available opportunity. As if that wound hasn't already been bleeding since I was eighteen years old. I lost my best friend and the only girl I've ever loved in one fell swoop. All because I thought I knew what she needed better than she did.
Christ, I was an idiot.
I've spent six years trying to figure out how to live without her. She's spent the last six proving she never needed me. Half the goddamn country has front-row seats to her life. But her best friend? The boy she used to love? Well, he has to watch it from afar.
It still hurts a helluva lot more than it should.
"You ever going to give me her number, Kirby?" Aldersgate asks. "I mean, it's not like she's moping around about some loser she knew in high school. She's probably fucking her way through every man in Hollywood right now. Might as well offer my dick for her to climb on, right?"
Oh, this stupid son of a…
"Hut!" Ripley Jackson, our QB, shouts.
