Chapter Thirty NICO

Chapter Thirty

NICO

I arrive at practice Monday afternoon ready to get out some aggression on the field, wishing I was a lineman so I could smash into someone extra hard. It would feel pretty fucking great to punch something right about now.

Anyone.

I’m not one who uses violence to get out my anger, but damn.

Rejection sucks. Especially from a gorgeous woman who tastes delicious yet panics every time I try to tell her how I feel about her. I’m starting to wonder if I’m complete shit at this, because anytime I start talking, she starts walking.

I suppose I can’t blame her for running away from me. I do have a reputation, and she’s heard all about it. I’m positive Sienna filled her head with all sorts of stories about me and my shitty behavior with women.

And here I thought Sienna was a friend.

Unfortunately, my reputation and behavior, all of it is true. Sienna is also Everleigh’s friend, and I’m sure she told her the truth: Nico Valente is a risk. Look at his situation with Portia.

I can hear Sienna saying it now. Laughing about it. I’d almost guarantee Ever didn’t laugh about it at all. She lived that moment with me when Portia tried to break down my bedroom door. It was bad. Made me look bad too.

Maybe I am bad.

Fuck.

The moment I come storming into the locker room like a massive black cloud about to rain down upon everyone in my path, Gav is giving me shit. “Whoa there, buddy. You look ready to kick some major ass.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I practically snarl, sending him a death glare.

Gavin actually has the nerve to laugh. “Damn, bro. Did Portia finally sink her claws into you again? Back in the day she always put your ass in a bad mood.”

That he would dare to bring up Portia has me wanting to tear him apart. And he’s one of my best friends, so this isn’t normal for me.

“Keep this up and I will definitely kick your ass,” I mutter as I go to my locker and open it, shoving my backpack inside.

The room goes silent, and I can just imagine everyone sharing a look. I ignore all of them and strip off most of my clothes, changing into my gear and practice uniform with jerky movements, not saying a word to anyone. Not even to Coop, whose locker is right next to mine. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him.

I can’t lose it on him. I live with the guy. I respect him. I respect Gav, too, but I hate it when he gives me shit. I’ve turned into the epitome of He can dish it out but can’t take it.

Yep, that’s me.

My teammates eventually start changing into their practice gear, even Gavin, and by the time I’ve got my emotions under control and I’m shutting my locker, the team is mostly dressed and ready to go.

Turning on my heel, I come face to face with Dollar, nearly smacking into him. I shove at his shoulder, putting a little more force behind it than usual. “Watch where you’re going.”

I realize a second too late that I pushed his injured arm and immediately feel like a complete dick.

“You watch it. What the hell is your problem?” Dollar takes a step back, glaring at me as he gently massages his shoulder. “You’re an asshole.”

I’m fuming. He didn’t even give me a chance to apologize.

“And you’re a stupid fuck who believes anything a woman says to you,” I toss back at him, referring to Portia.

His gaze narrows. I’ve pissed off Frank Dollar more than once. More like multiple times. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look this furious.

“You better watch what you say about Portia,” he mutters, taking a step closer to me.

I don’t back off. Hell no. Dollar is giving me exactly what I’ve craved since I woke up this morning.

I thrust my face in his, reminding him that I’m taller and bigger than he is and I’m not injured. Meaning I could totally kick his ass if I wanted to.

Not that I want to.

“Are you with her?” I hope he doesn’t think I care, or worse—that I still might have feelings for Portia.

Hell no.

Dollar lifts his chin, his golden gaze meeting mine. “That’s none of your damn business.”

I’m guessing that means they’re not. She’s playing her usual games and leading him on, which she tried on me. But I’m a game player, too, and I was always the one who had her running to me.

God, I regret some of my past behavior, considering it’s helped me lose my chance with Everleigh.

“Listen, take it from a friend. She’s going to end up making you look like a complete asshole,” I warn him. Rationality comes into play again, and I take a few steps back, away from Dollar. “If you don’t watch it, she’ll have you doing and saying things you never believed you’re capable of.”

“Like screaming at her while locked inside your bedroom during a party on a Saturday night?” Dollar’s brows shoot up.

A couple of the guys start chuckling, and I scan the room, glaring at all of them. They immediately shut up.

“Exactly,” I tell him. “Just—watch out.”

“Hey, let’s get the fuck out of here and head out to the field,” Gav calls. They all fall into line, and he leads the team out of the locker room, leaving me and Dollar alone with Coop lingering nearby. Ready to break us up if needed.

“Portia provoked me,” I start, but Frank interrupts me.

“Nah, dude. You started that mess Saturday night, and now I’m the one who’s gotta clean it up. I think she’s still hung up on you.” Dollar sounds absolutely miserable, making that confession.

I’m confused. “Then why are you trying to get with her? She’s just playing your ass—”

“It’s so easy for you,” he says, interrupting me again. “You can have any woman just by snapping your fingers, while I’m over here trying to do everything possible to get a girl to just pay attention to my ass at least once. I’d treat them like gold if they gave me the chance, and you discard them like trash every single time. You don’t know how good you’ve got it.”

I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, to give him tips on how to not be such a little bitch boy all the time, but he keeps talking.

“I liked Everleigh. A lot. But I never had a chance because of you.” It’s Dollar’s turn to shove at me, and I go stumbling backward, unprepared for the force of his strength. “You’re such a lucky fucker, and the worst part of it all is you’re not even aware of it. That’s just your life. It’s like nothing ever touches you, and I have to say—I hate you for it.”

Dollar stomps out of the locker room before I can respond, the door slamming so hard I flinch. My gaze goes to Coop, who’s got his foot on a bench in front of him, tying his shoe.

“He’s not wrong” is all Coop says to me.

Jesus, I cannot win with anyone lately. “What the fuck, Coop? Can’t you be on my side for once?”

“I’m always on your side. I defend you to everyone, especially Dollar. That poor guy, he just wants a shot. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get.”

“Like Portia,” I mutter.

“Like Portia,” Coop confirms. “He did like Ever. He told me so the first night she moved in.”

“And what did you tell him in response?”

“I told him it was a bad idea, just like I told you. Just like I keep telling you.” The pointed look Coop sends me lets me know he’s onto my bullshit.

“Well, you’d be happy to know she rejected my ass once and for all and hasn’t talked to me since. I haven’t seen her since she ran out of my bedroom yesterday afternoon.” I rest one hand on my hip, running the other through my hair, pushing it out of my eyes, but it just flops back into my line of vision. Goddamnit, I need a haircut.

Hell, I need a lot of things, but it’s like I don’t have time for any of it.

More like I don’t want to make the time. For anyone or anything.

The one person I thought I was willing to make time for told me no, and damn, that still stings.

“I’m sorry,” Coop finally says once he’s finished tying his shoe. “But it was probably for the best.”

“You sound just like her,” I practically snarl. “What’s so wrong with my ass anyway? Am I that horrible of a person?”

“Bro, I don’t have the time to list everything that’s wrong with you, though I can confirm one thing—you’re not horrible. You just do horrible things sometimes.”

Oh, great. No big. I’m just a careless, callous jerkoff who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but myself.

No wonder Ever ran away from me.

“Look, we have to head out to practice. Just .?.?.” His voice trails off, and he approaches me, grabbing my shoulder and giving it a not-so-gentle shake. “Think about how you talk to people. How you treat them. The world doesn’t revolve just around you, Valente. People have feelings, even if you don’t.”

Coop’s words linger with me as I trail after him out to the field. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to walk with me, and that’s fine. I want to stew in my own head for a few seconds anyway. Before we start practice and get shit rolling.

But I come to a complete stop when I see who’s standing with the coaching staff on the sidelines clad in a pair of navy leggings and a matching sports bra.

It’s Everleigh, looking fine as fuck.

Goddamn, those matching outfits are going to be the death of me.

There’s a breeze blowing across the field, whipping her dark ponytail around, and the temptation is back, just like that. I’m dying to grab that silky ponytail and drag her off the field, reminding every single guy on the team that she’s mine. This one belongs to me.

Even though she doesn’t. Not really. I can’t claim her.

Ever rejected my ass, and according to one of my best friends, I deserved it.

The entire team is in a row facing the coaches, and I join them, standing on the far edge of the group, wishing I were anywhere but here. I can’t even find refuge in practice, my one last safe space on this goddamn campus. I’ve got Dollar pissed at me, Coop disappointed in me, Gav eager to give me shit, and Everleigh avoiding me like I’m a contagious disease.

It fucking sucks.

I stare at Everleigh, trying to get her to look my way, but it’s like I don’t even exist. I can feel some of my teammates watching me, most likely not-so-secretly enjoying my obvious failure, and I send everyone who’s looking in my direction a dirty look. Even Gav.

Fuck all of them. Fuck the cute girl who’s currently talking about helping us stretch by holding a yoga session for us to kick off practice. I am not in the mood for this, and I interrupt her midspeech.

“What if we don’t want to do it?”

All heads swivel in my direction, including Ever’s, whose eyes are full of disappointment.

“You don’t have a choice,” Coach answers for her, his voice firm and his focus only on me. “This is a part of practice. You know how it goes, Valente.”

I do. This is my fourth year. My last year on this team.

“I don’t want to participate.” I cross my arms, figuratively digging in my heels.

Being a complete idiot. But hey, I don’t half ass anything. I’m going all in.

“Like I said, you don’t have a choice.” Coach pauses for a moment, his steely gaze boring into mine. “Unless you want to leave practice.”

Leaving practice is worse than getting kicked out. Leaving means you don’t want to stick around for your team. Getting kicked out means you’re acting like a shithead and the coaches don’t want to deal with you anymore.

I’m definitely trying to get kicked out.

“I’ll just chill on the sidelines and watch everyone,” I drawl, my gaze scanning across my teammates, who are all wearing sour expressions of varying degrees. “Whatcha think, guys?”

“Fuck that, Valente. Stop being difficult,” Gav calls good naturedly. “I thought you liked Everleigh’s yoga classes.”

“Not anymore,” I say, my voice loud and clear.

Dollar mutters under his breath.

Coop groans.

I am digging my own grave, and I don’t give a shit.

“Valente, you’re being a distraction.” Coach glares. “You either agree to run through this yoga session—twenty minutes tops, so it’ll go by quick—or I’m kicking you out of practice.”

I slowly shake my head. “I’m not doing it.”

“Get the fuck out of here, then.”

It’s the Monday after a bye week. We need to have our heads in the game and get ready for this weekend’s match with one of our biggest rivals. I am dying to play this game. They need me to play this game.

But if I keep fucking off like this, they’ll have no choice but to boot me out of this Saturday’s game.

My gaze shifts to Everleigh, who’s watching me, her expression sad.

If I could flip them all off, even her, I would.

But I don’t. Instead, I leave, heading back to the locker room.

Regretting my life choices every step of the way.

I’m in my truck headed home when my phone starts ringing. It’s my mom.

“Why are you calling me right now? You know I’m supposed to be at practice” is how I answer her.

“Then why are you answering my call if you’re supposedly in practice?” She sounds worried.

I blow out a harsh breath. “Sorry, Mom. It’s been a—rough day.”

“You’re all right, though? You’re not hurt and in the back of an ambulance?”

“No, I’m fine.” Moms. They worry a lot, and it’s unnecessary most of the time.

“Thank God.” Damn, she’s dramatic. “I suddenly had a weird feeling about you and thought I’d call.”

“What do you mean, a weird feeling?”

“I don’t know. I could sense something was .?.?. off.” She pauses for only a second. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you at practice?”

I’m close to my mom, but I haven’t talked to her as much this quarter. She’s always understanding about how much football keeps me busy, and I appreciate her support, but lately I’ve been trying to do my own thing. Not depend on my mama as much.

But she called at the right time. Right now, I need her.

Taking a deep breath, I tell her the whole story, leaving out a few more private details, but I’m pretty honest with her overall. Once I’m done complaining, she softly exhales. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Please.”

“My father used to always say this when I’d complain about having a bad day and how everyone treated me terribly—if you think everyone is being an asshole, that usually means you’re the asshole.”

I go quiet. I’ve heard her say this before and always blew it off. I’m not an asshole. I’m the good-time guy. The fun guy. I’m laughing and smiling and flirting and drinking and catching pretty much every single ball that’s thrown at me out on the field. You’ll never see me being a dickhead.

Lately, all I’ve been is a dickhead.

Or an asshole.

Take your pick.

“Are you calling me the asshole?” I ask.

She bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but smile. My mom’s laughter always cheers me up. “Yes, Nico. I’m calling you the asshole. You never fight with your roommates or Gavin.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Is it because Everleigh moved in with you? Is she causing tension among you all?”

“It’s me,” I admit. “I’m the one causing the tension.”

Over Everleigh, which is dumb. They all like her. They think she’s great. She is great. I like her too.

But it’s more than that, what I feel for Everleigh. She’s not just a friend. I want to explore more with her.

Pretty sure I fucked up my chances.

“What did you do to her to have her running so scared?”

I showed her my true colors, and she didn’t like what she saw.

But I can’t tell my mom that. She’ll defend me to the bitter end, even when she’s calling me an asshole at the same time.

“My reputation with the ladies isn’t the best.” I wince, glad I’m not face to face with her while saying this.

“Oh, Nico.” She sighs. “Sometimes I worry that’s all my fault.”

“What? No way, Mom. You’re great.”

“You didn’t see a healthy relationship growing up. Your dad left us, and I channeled all of my energy into you.”

“And I appreciate that.” I pull onto our street, turning into the driveway almost immediately. “You’re not the reason I won’t commit.”

“My relationship with your father influenced you, though. Even if you can’t see that. He ran away from his commitments and never looked back.”

Shit. She’s right. I refuse to be like that guy. He ditched us and left my mother alone to pick up the pieces. Am I avoiding relationships so I won’t do the same?

“If you’re really being the asshole in this situation, Nico, you need to make things right,” Mom says. “With everyone.”

“I will,” I say, my voice fierce. “I promise.”