36

Adam

Not Getting Into Any Trouble

In the span of a single evening, Piper Fontaine and I had gotten pitch drunk at a grimy bar, ruined our mutual friend's night, and smashed a classic car. If anything, the adrenaline should've been hounding me. I should've been pacing or something when we made it back to the dorms, but it was weirdly quiet. It wasn't an awkward silence either. Odd enough, it was almost…peaceful?

"So…" Piper chewed her bottom lip, her cheeks puckered pink. "We both…can't tell anyone about this."

I pushed the door open. "Yep. Agreed."

"Like, none of this."

"I can keep my mouth shut." I moved into the little standing area, making room so she could make a beeline for the bedroom, but instead, she stopped. Facing each other, the door clicked shut behind us and I moved to give her space. So did she.

A soft laugh escaped her, and she reached out for my arm, gently pushing me to the side. She sauntered off to the bathroom, and I watched her all the way, not realizing I'd been holding my breath until she closed the door behind her.

The drink hit me harder than I thought.

It was time for bed. Time to close my eyes and let the alcohol burn out of my system. I took a look in the mirror. Ryan would've said I looked like hell. King wouldn't have said anything at all, just nodded along in agreement.

King.

June.

Shit.

I closed my eyes, thinking back to the whole reason Piper and I had gleefully committed a felony together. Tomorrow, we'd be leaving Oklahoma and no doubt we'd see Xavier and hear all about the bad luck that had befallen him in the van ride.

Unless…?

With a frown, I slipped out my phone. Half past three, it was the worst time you could wake up somebody with a call. But it was a call I needed to make.

"I'll be right back," I told Piper, wracking my brain for an explanation. "I'm going—I'm going to email my coach with the weekend pictures."

I left our dorm and headed down the hallway, off towards any quiet place where I wouldn't be disturbed. I made my way up to the sixth floor, the seventh floor, and the eighth floor until I finally found a private hideaway with a couch that had half its cushion ripped to shreds.

"Come on, pick up, pick up," I muttered into the phone and leaned back to sit. The couch groaned underneath me and I rolled my eyes. I forgot how much the training center splurged on seats that actually fit me.

The ringing ceased, but there was no response. I pulled back my phone to see the seconds ticking up.

"Hey, King," I said. "I need a favor."

No reply. Nothing.

I rubbed my temples. "I know it's late as hell. And—yeah—this isn't something you can tell Ryan about." Still nothing but silence. I barreled on. "Cleo's bound to be watching my credit cards right now. I'll pay you back in two weeks and I'll owe you big time. Come on, brother. Do me a solid here."

Silence.

"Goddammit," I swore. "If I knew you'd grill me this hard, I would've called somebody else."

Nothing.

I sighed the kind of sigh that took everything out of me and I closed my eyes, tapping the phone against the side of my head before I finally said the one thing that'd get the asshole to respond. "It's about June."

His blankets shifted. There was the sharp sound of a switch flickering on.

"Xavier cheated on June," I explained, putting him on speaker. I brought the phone away from my ear and typed for a moment, searching for exactly what I needed. "This isn't a favor just for me. It's helping her too. Look, I…I feel bad about the whole shit situation."

King's voice was contemplative. "I didn't know you did that."

"Did what?" I frowned. "Feel bad? Oh, fuck you, man."

He didn't chuckle, but I could imagine the half of a smile on his face before I knew it disappeared.

"How bad is it?" King asked.

"Bad."

"Shit." King sighed. "What are we going to—holy shit."

"What?"

"June texted me." There was a long pause over the phone. "She doesn't want to do the fake relationship anymore."

I hesitated, listening in for what was supposed to happen next. June and King weren't going to be an item anymore? Goddamn, they'd been keeping up that charade for a long time. I couldn't even imagine our football events without June there.

"Holy fucking shit…" King breathed out. "It's over. It's done." He paused. "Fuck, what am I saying? This is a fucked up time to be happy right now."

"I mean, you've been counting the days."

"No. No ." He sighed. "This is about June. What are we doing for June?"

"Check the link I sent you."

There was a longer pause while King clicked the link, and for just a moment, I was damn grateful I didn't call Ryan. I knew if push came to shove, he would've done it, but I had no patience in helping technophobic Ryan Cross figure out what clicking a link meant.

"I know it's a lot of money," I started, "but you know I'm good for it—"

"It's for June. What account do you want me to transfer it to?"

I breathed a sigh of relief and chuckled, feeling a hell of a lot lighter. "You can't transfer it, remember? Man, you're so excited to get your dick sucked again, your brain went out."

King grunted.

"Cleo's got to be watching like a hawk," I said, stretching my legs out. "One toe out of line and—"

"The rental company doesn't have it where you're at."

"What?" I leaned up in my chair. "What do you mean? Where do they have it?"

"Oklahoma City."

I swore under my breath. "Now I've got to get a long-ass taxi…that's the rest of my cash. Fuck. And I have to get up at the crack of dawn to do this and it's already—fuck me—it's almost four o'clock."

There was a creak on the other side, and King hesitated. "What am I supposed to tell June?"

Neither of us said anything.

When we signed on for the Romans, there wasn't a guidebook on what you do when fake relationships get messy. That's why no matter how many times Cleo had suggested it for me, and I heard all the speeches, about how it would clean up my image and put a stop to the Marrs Manwhore nickname once and for all, I never bothered. Even with the NDAs and the contracts and the promises, that was still a real person. And shit happens with real people.

"I don't know," I answered honestly.

June wasn't just June Basil, politician's daughter, homecoming queen, or whatever other title that they tacked on her. She was also—June. Our buddy. I didn't know what was supposed to happen next.

"Shit," he muttered. "Well, it'll be good to have you both back."

I tried to grin, even if I didn't feel like it. "Miss us?"

"People keep trying to make me do things, and you and June aren't here to put a stop to that."

"You've got to learn to stop being such a pussy and say no for a change."

King breezed right past that. "How's the girl?"

Piper was back in our room, fast asleep by now. I could picture her blonde hair, all fluffy on the pillow, and the pajamas, probably some kind of sea animal theme.

My thoughts drifted to her smooth thighs and her lips. I wanted to kiss her in that shower. I really wanted to kiss her.

"Uh…fine," I muttered.

"You're not getting into any trouble, are you?"

What? Like smashing a Clemenza?

"No more than usual," I answered.

He grunted, unsatisfied. Out of everyone, that's what King was best at. We all joked around about how he refused to talk, but the truth was, the man was constantly listening and siphoning through the bullshit. It was probably my least favorite and favorite thing about my teammate.

"June's calling me, I'll talk tomorrow," King said.

"Talk to you tomorrow, man."

The phone call clicked and it was a good thing he had to go. I had to get to bed for the small time frame I was allocated for. I stretched again, feeling things pop that probably didn't need to, and pushed myself from the couch. My alarm was set. One hour and seven minutes left before my early taxi ride.

Great .

Walking down the quiet hallway, I scanned through the photos that the girls sent me for the conference. If someone hadn't actually been to the conference and just saw the photos, it looked pretty good.

I zeroed in on a single photo, Piper and I in a line together. You couldn't even tell we were arguing.

"Might as well." I chuckled, tapping on all of them, to send to coach.