Keeping Score by Cathryn Fox
Rocco
Practice ran late and I should be tired. I am tired, but there is this uneasy energy inside me. Reagan hasn’t talked to Cochrane yet. Not that I know of. Worry mushrooms inside me. What kind of lies will he spill about me? Will she believe them and go running back to him? Angsty and jittery, even though my body is exhausted, I head into Reagan’s house. It’s dark and quiet, and she’s probably fast asleep. If my bike wasn’t busted, I’d go for a long ride to push back the edginess prowling through my veins.
I quietly go upstairs, not wanting to wake anyone. I stop outside Reagan’s door, my mind racing. Yeah, I’m going to make something of my life. But will I ever be anything but the thug from the wrong side of the tracks? What I should do is walk away. I’m not what she needs. I’m not even sure I’m what she wants. Sure, we’re having fun in bed, but sex and relationships are two different things. It’s possible that I’m just a goddamn wimp, too afraid of opening up and having her walk out of my life, straight back into the arms of Dick.
Light fans out from beneath her door and my heart jumps. She’s been waiting up for me. I knock softly, and she welcomes me in. I open the door and find her in her bed, warm, flushed, so damn sexy it’s all I can do not to take her. Maybe I should take her. That would help with easing the strange restlessness inside me.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I was awake.” She pats the bed, and I cross the room. “How was practice?”
“Good.” I brush her hair back, lean in and press a kiss to her forehead. “How was your night?”
She waves toward her computer. “Same old, same old.”
I grin, and glance out her window at the dark night. It was just last night I was sure I spotted Cochrane and his goons creeping around the property. I should have gone after him, should have pounded as many of them as I could. Maybe he heard I was looking for him, and came for me instead. Why didn’t I go out? Oh, because Reagan didn’t need that. She didn’t need to see a brawl. No, when Cochrane and I get into it, she’ll be nowhere in the vicinity.
“Want to get out of here?” I ask.
She frowns, and angles her head, looking at me like I might have a snake growing out of mine. I chuckle quietly. “It’s not that late.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“Normally on a night like tonight, I’d go to my cave, but since Dick broke my bike, I guess I’ll have to settle for a walk. Want to join me?”
She pushes her blankets off, showcasing her curvy body in her pajamas. No matter what this girl wears, I’m always going to want her.
“Stare much,” she teases as she turns her back to me and pulls on a bra and sweater, following those up with panties and jeans. She puts her hair up in a ponytail and sticks a few bobby pins in to tame the wayward curls around her face. She is so fucking adorable I could sob. I am seriously the luckiest guy on the planet to be here with her. Even if it can’t be forever.
You want forever.
“Why are you hiding?” I ask, stepping up behind her. “I’ve been inside you, remember? I know exactly what you look like and taste like.” I pull her hair to the side and kiss her neck. A quiver goes through her and I like it. I like the way she reacts to my touch.
“How could I forget?” She turns to me, her eyes bright with desire. “You were my first, remember, and a girl never forgets her first.”
I stare at her, an odd little ache in my heart because the thought of her having a second, or third, doesn’t sit well with me. I put my hand on the side of her neck, brush my thumb over her cheek and lightly kiss her.
“I’ll never forget either, Sunshine.” She smiles up at me. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” Her eyes are dreamy her lips still poised as that one word slips from her lips.
“Do you want my jacket?”
She nods, and I tug off my team jacket and put it over her shoulders. I’m only in a T-shirt, but my body is hot from tonight’s practice. I take her hand in mine and we head outdoors. The refreshing night air falls over us and we both take a minute to breathe it in. We walk along the sidewalk, hand in hand, with no destination in mind. Before we know it, we’re on the football field.
“Want to make out under the bleachers?” I tease.
She laughs. “Yes, but no.”
I pretend I’m throwing the ball. “Too bad I didn’t have my ball. I could teach you a few moves.”
“That actually would have been fun.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, I like learning your moves.”
I scratch my head as she gives me an innocent look. “Are we still talking about football?”
“We are and you know what?” She throws her arms around me. “I love how passionate you are about football. I am so happy that you get to live your dream every day, Rocco.”
A movement in the distance draws my attention. I look over her head, stare into the dark night, but my gaze comes up with nothing. Maybe it was just an animal.
As I scan the campus, I notice one of the buildings. An idea hits. It’s not a great idea. In fact, it’s a very very bad idea. I’m going to do it anyway. I break from the circle of her arms, and capture her hand.
“Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“Haven’t we already established that I hate surprises?”
“No, we established that I’m the one who doesn’t like surprises. But trust me enough to know you’re going to like this one, right?”
“I do.”
My heart squeezes tight at that. She trusts me and that will always live inside me, very close to my pounding heart. We hurry across the wide football field until we’re at the back door to one of the campus’s buildings.
“What are we doing at the art gallery?” she asks, her voice a hushed whisper.
“What does one normally do at an art gallery, Reagan?”
She whacks me and I feign hurt. “Smart ass.”
“I thought we’d enjoy some art.”
“But it’s closed.”
“Not to us.” I pull a couple pins from her hair and drop to my knees. She gasps.
“Rocco, we can’t break in. We’ll get in trouble.”
“Nah, actually we won’t. I know campus security quite well.” I wink at her. “Did a guy a favor once.”
“Chad?”
“Yeah, you remember me mentioning him.”
She puts a hand on her hip. “What kind of favor? Don’t tell me he’s one of the bad guys? Corrupt campus security.”
“You clearly watch too many crime shows.” I laugh, and shove one of the pins into the lock, moving it around until I find what I’m looking for. “No. I helped him get a girl, once.”
“A girl, really?”
“Yeah, one of the ladies that works in the cafeteria.”
“My, aren’t you the nice guy?”
“Been called a lot of things.” I turn and wink at her. “But can’t say as I’ve been ever called that.”
“You are though, Rocco.”
My throat tightens at the way she looks at me, and I’m so far gone when it comes to her. I might be out of her league, I might not be accepted into her circle, but goddammit, I am in love with her, and I have to stop being such a chicken shit. I’m about to stand, drag her into my arms and once and for all tell her exactly how I feel.
“Hurry,” she says, when voices reach our ears. I shove the other pin into the lock. “How are you doing that?”
“Like this.” I move her in front of me, and she sinks to the cold ground with me. I take her hand and put it on the pin. “Move it until you feel a latch.”
She works the lock for a second, then goes perfectly still. She glances at me over her shoulder. “Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Don’t worry,” I say to ease her worries. “If we get caught, I’ll take all the blame. Just so you know, I’d never do anything that would put you in harm’s way or in a bad situation.” I clench down on my teeth, and resist the urge to say like your douche bag boyfriend. “I’ll say I kidnapped you and forced you to go to the art gallery.”
She chuckles. “Yeah, that’s believable.”
“If you spin a good enough story, you can make anything sound believable.”
She eyes me and lifts her chin a bit, but there’s a playfulness about her. “Why do I get the sense you’re talking from experience?”
“Probably because I am.”
She opens her mouth like she’s about to ask something when I move my hand over hers, and click open the lock.
“We’re in.”
I stand and pull her up. Once we’re inside, we leave the lights off and I pull out my phone to turn on my flashlight app. I know for a fact that there are no alarms. It’s not like we’re at the Guggenheim or anything. This is the Kingston art gallery, where students show off their masterpieces.
“Do you have any of your work in here?” I ask as we tiptoe through the building, our bodies close, constantly touching.
“No, of course not.”
“Too bad.” I shine my light on the wall and light up all the art. “Yours would look good right there.”
“Is that why you brought me here, Rocco? So I could envision what my art would look like on these walls? To show me that I’m not on the path I’m supposed to be on? That I should live my own life instead of the one everyone expects of me?”
“Wow, I just thought it would be fun.” I’m making light of it, but she’s bang on. “I didn’t know you were going to read all that into it.”
“You’re far more transparent to me than you think.”
She goes quiet again, too quiet, and I shine my light on her, find her face flushed, her eyes watery. Shit, I shouldn’t have done this. I’ve crossed a line. “Reagan—”
“Thank you. You’re right. I do like this surprise.” She gives a big sigh. “No one’s ever cared—”
“They care, Reagan. Don’t mistake them wanting you to get a good education that will lead to a secure career as not caring.”
She nods, understanding exactly what I’m saying. Her gaze drops to the floor. “You’re right. They do. They just don’t understand.”
“Maybe it’s up to you to make them understand. That’s totally up to you. If that’s what you want to do.” I’d like to tell her I have no horses in this race, but that would be a lie. I totally care about her, and her future. I want her to live the best possible life.
With me.
She goes silent for a second, and when she lifts her head, my light shining right into her eyes, she winces. “Can you stop blinding me?”
“Sorry.”
I shine the light on the wall again, and we walk closer to the displayed art. We both go quiet as we examine the paintings. We move quietly through the rooms, and stop when we come to the sculptures.
“Great sculptures, don’t you think?” I lean against the statue of a woman, purposely placing one hand on her breast, acting all innocent. “Have you ever done one?”
She laughs. “Are you twelve?”
“What?” I look at the statue and jerk my hand back. “Where did that come from?”
She whacks me and her laugh curls around me. “So juvenile.”
“I bet that’s what you love about me.”
She goes quiet when the word love spills from my lips and I mentally scold myself. Just because I’m in love with her doesn’t mean she’s in love with me. She has a goddamn boyfriend who’s waiting for our month to be over so he can have her back.
Fuck me.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t bet or gamble,” she says quietly. “Especially when people are putting things on the table they should never be gambling with.”
If she’s talking about her heart, I get it. I am two seconds away from putting mine on the table, and I’m terrified. Terrified of getting hurt, terrified of her walking away. Terrified of her never knowing how I really feel. If I don’t take this chance, I’ll end up spending the rest of my life wondering what if. Which is worse.
“You like a sure thing, huh?” I ask.
“I do.”
I’m a second away from telling her I’m a sure thing when a door creaks open and lights in another room flick on. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”