Page 3 of Playing Dirty
Fuck.
Not only have we succumbed to defeat on the field, but we’ve lost the Penny Play on top of it. And while our rivalry-fueled version of capture the flag might only be for bragging rights, it feels like an even deeper cut right now.
When my attention returns to Madden, his gaze is still on me. And while his shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breaths, there’s the briefest second where his gaze flashes from my eyes, down to my mouth, before lifting back up again.
“Why don’t you go celebrate with your band of degenerates, then?” I snarl, pushing against his chest so he gets off me.
A soft tsking sound comes from him as he pushes up onto his knees. “Clearly, you weren’t taught how to accept defeat with grace.”
After standing completely, he extends an ink-covered arm toward me, offering a hand to haul me to my feet. I shift my gaze to it, feeling my lip curl back in a sneer at the gesture of truce.
“And, clearly, you’re only playing nice because the newlyweds are watching.”
He stares at me for a single, assessing beat before dropping his hand back to his side. Then he shrugs, and a sardonic laugh leaves him as he turns to head back to his team.
“Suit yourself,” he calls over his shoulder. “And better luck next year,bro.”
One
Theo
Six Months Later — November
“I know you’re convinced it’s all gonna go to shit the second you walk through the door, but it’s probably not gonna be as terrible as you’re thinking,” Phoenix’s disembodied voice says through the speaker of my Bronco as I guide it off the interstate just outside St. Louis.
I haven’t been back home in months—since I helped my mom move out of my childhood home earlier this year—and no part of me wants to be here now. It’s half the reason I’ve made the drive with two of my roommates on the phone—in hopes that Phoenix and Holden might stop my fight or flight instinct from kicking in.
Unfortunately, from the sheer amount of anxiety wreaking havoc on my nervous system, that isn’t the case.
A disbelieving scoff slips out before I can stop it. “Not as bad asI think? Easy for you to say when you’re the one currently on the way to spend Thanksgiving with your boyfriend and your picture-perfect family.”
“He makes a good point, Nix,” Holden chimes in, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve got it made this turkey day, meanwhile he’s off to play Cinder-fella with his wicked stepfamily.”
Phoenix snorts, and I wouldn’t need to be in the car with them to know he’s rolling his eyes at his boyfriend. Especially when he rebuts with, “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”
“It really isn’t,” I mutter, wholeheartedly agreeing with Holden.
Although, I do have a leg up on Cinderella with onlyoneevil stepsibling instead of two.
“Like I said, who knows. Maybe it’ll go better than expected and you’ll really enjoy yourself.”
Yeah, I severely doubt it.
“There’s a higher chance of you two being celibate for the rest of the year, but I appreciate the sentiment.”
Holden’s laughter fills the speakers, and I can even hear the barely-restrained chuckles in Phoenix’s voice when he replies, “Fair enough. But—just playing devil’s advocate here—it wouldn’t kill you to go into the holiday with the smallest amount of hope.”
Maybe not, but harnessing anything other than distaste and resentment when it comes to my family is pretty difficult these days. In fact, it only grows as my father’s house comes into view from the end of the street, filling me to the brim with all the emotions I’ve done my best to push down while I’m away at school.
Everything looks exactly the same on the outside…but I know nothing behind those four walls actually is.
“I’m here,” I tell them, letting my head fall back against the leather headrest.
“What they did was shitty, and there’s a one-hundred percent chance they know how fucked it was too. Maybe try using this weekend as an opportunity to clear the slate and start over.” Phoenix’s voice pauses through my car speakers briefly before he softly adds, “People do really dumb things for love.”
I know he’s speaking from experience, just like I know he and Holden are the perfect example of not being able to choose the person you fall for—no matter how messy being together might be.
The problem is, I don’t believe my father loves Carla. Not for a second. I think he’s an asshole going through some bullshit midlife crisis, and the only way he could handle it was to trade out his wife of twenty-five years for a newer model.
