Page 76 of Once Upon A Player
Not until Violet.
Why the hell hasn’t she called me yet?
Yolanda takes a deep breath and places her cup on the workbench. “Honestly, Lucas. I don’t know why you’ve got this crazy notion girls only date you because of your fame. I mean, sure, some do. Hell, I know howthatgoes, believe me.”
It’s true she’s dated some jerks who only wanted to be with her because she’s a supermodel and it got their faces in the media, but the difference is,allthe girls who date me only want the associated brief brush with fame.
Except for…
Yeah, all right. Not going there again.
“Not seeing your point. Sorry.” I chug down some coffee and scald my bloody mouth.
She gives a long-suffering sigh. “Look. I know Violet’s special. But you need to know she’s not the first girl who went out with you because you’reyouand not Lucas Carter, the footballer.”
I give that suggestion all the attention it deserves. About three seconds.
Even if Yolanda can’t see it, I know the truth.
From nowhere, a distorted memory echoes through my brain.
Not every girl gets to date her teenage crush.
Ice skates along my spine. It was a bitchy comment made by Violet’s ex-friend. I know that. It doesn’t mean shit. The reason Violet wouldn’t go out with me that first day was because of my career, so what the fuck am I even thinking here?
I don’t know, but I can’t get it out of my head. “I’m gonna have a shower.”
Neither of them says anything as I leave the room, but as I stand under the double jets, our final conversation scrapes through my mind.
Don’t be so stupid. You don’t get to tell me what to do.
She sounded like she was really mad.It was just a row, Carter.
It doesn’t stop her words from ringing in my ears.
Don’t be so stupid.
When I eventually return to the kitchen, Yolanda’s gone. Shame I can’t say the same about Will, who’s just finishing a toasted cheese sandwich.
Moodily, I fix myself one, and it’s not until I bite into my late lunch that Will speaks.
“She’s right, mate.”
I know exactly what he’s referring to but don’t feel the need to make this easy on him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You remember at school, before you signed your first contract. You could always date any girl you wanted.”
I sling him a black glare. “Yeah, and I was sixteen years old.”
“That’s right. And nothing’s changed.”
I finish my sandwich, even though the cheese is still too hot. “Everything changed when I signed with United.”
“You know what I mean.”
That’s the problem. I don’t. “We’re talking about my dating history here.”
“So am I.”
