Dirty Roulette, page 35
“Payton...” I swallow, my mouth dries.
“Yeah...” her voice tremors.
I meet her cheek with a thumb and lean down where my face is aligned with hers.
“I... I love you. I’ll always love you. Do you believe me when I say that?” She nods her head, grabbing my hand and squeezing it hard. “I love you, Payton Bailey; I’m not leaving you. Don’t you dare think for a second I’m going to.”
“I love you too, you stupid Crab.”
I coil a hand around the back of her head and press my forehead against hers, breathing her in. Her strawberry shampoo mixed with vanilla. “Don’t get caught.” I grip a fistful of hair. “End it. End Roulette for good.”
The one thing I’ve always wanted was a damn football, and regrets eat at me because I’d rather throw in the towel now than give in to Brody. Four years wasted on a dream that was never going to happen. I don’t want to play anymore, not if she can’t be mine. It’s not worth losing Payton over a damn ball. I tremble in pure agony as I make my choice. With both hands, I grasp Payton’s pink cheeks and kiss her. Not just a peck either – I delve fully into her and our tongues fight for dominance, pouring every ounce of our feelings into each other. When we part, I can still taste the cherry flavor of her lips on mine as I turn to the Jumbotron. Like I expected, the camera is highlighting everyone on the field and caught a ten second clip of us with the kissing cam.
Chapter forty-eight
Payton
This is it. It’s game time. The stadium swims with a sea of cheering people. Shadows spread as the sun sinks like the pit of my stomach.
Charlie’s voice is far away, and I’m scared I’ll forget the sound of it, but she reminds me that the ache in my heart will never go away.
“Do you want to know why I don’t get attached to guys? Because of how you feel right now. It doesn’t go away.”
If loving Ryder means my chest will always hurt, and my head is always spinning, and my worst fear is him walking away from me, then I’ll accept it. I won’t run away because the rawness of what spirals in my chest is real. I’ll forgive him, no matter how many times he hurts me, I’ll invite him in and show him my biggest weakness. Loving him will ruin me, and I’m okay with that.
Ryder’s been with me since the first grade. He was the boy beating me in races on the field during recess. He was always the bully, throwing me into their pool every summer. The jerk tipping over my floaty. The boy strong enough to keep me balanced on his shoulders as I played chicken against Charlie.
I miss laying in the grass in their backyard, staring at the stars at midnight with them both lying adjacent to me as we’d talk nonstop for hours. The crickets chirping, the fireflies buzzing by us. All three of us would stare up into space waiting for the heavens to open up.
I regret a lot. I should have shouted it at Charlie that night in her car and told her about Roulette. I’d deal with the grief raining over us. If only I admitted to the truth then maybe my feelings wouldn’t be lacerating my chest wide open. Maybe she would still be here.
“Go get him!” Ryder pecks me one more time on the forehead.
“For Charlie...” I bite my bottom lip holding back the pain in my eyes. I promised I’d reign in my emotions with him. I promised to stop being a blubbery mess, but I see the tears in his eyes.
“For Charlie, baby.”
I break out in a clammy sweat, and in the corner of my eyes I see Brittni storming down the green grass to Ryder.
Not again.
Not this bitch.
I’m fed up with her flawlessness, her crisp, clean uniform, and every atom she’s molded out of. She’s about to lunge at me and I can see it with the devilish look in her eyes.
Within seconds her nails dig into my hair, twisting and throwing me around like a rag doll. My tiny fists smack her across the face, shoving her in the chest. “Get off me!” I scream. Pain shoots up my scalp as she curls her fingers into my hair.
She kicks at my shins with her pearly white sneakers, and if she wants to fight like a bitch, two can play at that. I manage to throw a fist right into her cheek, her grip on my hair not letting up as I pound into her face.
Strong arms grab me by the waist, pulling me away. “No! Stop!” Ryder growls, and Brittni manages to let go with a handful of clumped up hair in her palms. I swivel around, punching his shoulder pads, thinking it was someone else.
“Go!” Ryder points to the double doors, and I spot security enclosing at both ends of the field. The crowd booms louder as the opposing team enters the field. “What are you waiting for, go!” His voice is mute, and everything turns to white noise as he grabs his helmet and jogs off, backing up in a sprint. “Go!”
Brittni wipes away tears, her hair disheveled, and a red mark blooms on her cheek where I punched her. The team huddles around her, stroking her shoulders, and being gentle to the fakest person I’ve ever met. Autumn throws a finger down her throat and pretends to gag herself, and wiggles her fingers as she says. “Bye-bye, slut!”
Naomi stands in the background with both hands over her mouth. Her brows furrow and she mouths the words, “I’m sorry.”
I run, sprinting down the white lines of the field and to the double doors that lead to the corridor right before the locker room. They burst open, my heaves echo in the long hallway, and the crowd’s cheers are a surround sound all around me. Dancers, the marching band, mascots are crowding everywhere. My back meets the cold brick wall and I melt into a puddle on the floor.
Noah stands in the middle of the hallway in the midst of everyone, wearing a black guitar case like a backpack. His eyes lift from his phone screen.
“Whoa, are you okay?” he asks and clicks off his phone, slipping it into his front pocket. He walks over in his holey, black skinny jeans and baggy shirt. His tattoos mesh into colorful blobs as tears blur my vision. His band members stand behind him with the same furrowed brows and concerned expressions.
“What the hell? What happened?” His Converse squeak against the tile floor as he kneels down, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“Brody... he...” I blubber out, my entire body shaking.
“What?” Noah asks.
“He posted that video and is going to get Ryder kicked from the team. He wanted Ryder to leave me, but he picked me over his future career of ever being in the NFL. It’s literally his dream! It’s the only thing he knows! And Brittni, I’ve never hated anyone so much in my entire life and she attacked me out there on the field!”
Noah tilts his head to the side. “This ass hole doesn’t know when to stop.” I stare at the wall behind him, and at the missing black-and-white picture of Charlie taped to the wall. “And screw that Barbie bitch!”
“We wrote a song just for that prick!” Omen spits out.
“You wrote a song?” I chuckle back my tears, wishing Charlie would throw open the double doors with her nostrils flaring, huffing and puffing. She’d squeeze my shoulder, tell me to knock off the tantrum, and buckle up. But without her, I can’t borrow her charm of being indifferent when it comes to fighting battles.
“Noah pulled an all-nighter to write it, and we’ve been practicing it all day.” Omen steps over, his arms crossing as he leans against the cold brick wall. He sinks down, sitting next to me. “And you know what... Now that I think about it Noah, I think this Brody bitch forced Charlie to break up with you. If he’s trying to make them break up, who’s to say he didn’t do it to you.”
“Yeah.” Vince huffs, rubbing a hand over the crease of his neck. “Shit felt off with her that night.”
I rake a hand through my hair, that minor look in Charlie’s eyes that night screamed at me to help her, but we just got into a fight instead. The guilt makes every muscle in my body constrict like a charley horse.
“I dunno what the hell is wrong with me, thinking I could just hack the Jumbotron and broadcast his dirty laundry on live television.” My soul rattles the iron bars it’s trapped behind, begging to be let free.
“No, it’s not stupid.” Noah chuckles and shakes my shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you could hack it, princess.”
I swallow the remnants of tears. “I dunno.”
“We got one shot at showing every damn person out there what he did to Charlie, and you. I’m with you. We are with you.” He points to his band members behind him. “Fuck Brody. My screams are going to throw him out of this stadium! Now get up, and let’s finish this.” Noah stands up, holding out his hand.
Chapter forty-nine
Ryder
Itrudge into the locker room at halftime hurling my helmet at the lockers. Crunching metal echoes off the wall. “Fuck!” I cry out and slump to the bench with one hand raking through my hair. Body odor fills the thick air. Teammates scatter around, chugging water, and others get taped up.
“What the hell is happening out there?” Jared points his helmet at me. Sweat drenches every strand of hair on top of his head. “Brody has every opportunity to pass you the ball and he doesn’t. Then when you are surrounded, he throws it at you, and you can't catch the damn ball! It’s like he’s doing it on purpose just to get you benched in the next quarter!” I chew the inside of my cheek. I shouldn’t even be on the field. “And then you could have intercepted that play! You’ve never been this off before!”
My head spins thinking that cleats on the turf, and catching a damn ball was all that I ever wanted. People cheering when I’m on the Jumbotron in the endzone has been my life. It’s the only thing I have ever known. My dad bought me my first set of cleats when I was barely in kindergarten. I’d play football all year round up until I graduated high school.
I stare at the floor, black mold cakes around the cold tiles, and it offers no comfort. Jared’s lecturing fades, his voice and the sound of cleats clacking turn into white noise. Jared is animated, his hands flailing, fire in his eyes as he’s only thinking about the field and the awful scoreboard.
My head is nowhere near the game. All I can think about is Payton’s face. The ache in her opal eyes tearing me limb from limb knowing our video was posted. She was told he was gonna force me to leave her.
I’d give anything to rewind time like those old video cassettes. Take those picture frames and reorder them. Something yanks me out of my body, my brain fading into blackness like a movie theater. Moments with Payton run through my head on replay.
I’m back in elementary, top dog of the fifth-grade boys. She’s a second-grader playing tag with my sister on the playground. She had a gap between her two front teeth, one tooth was bigger than the other. I said something mean. Charlie and her were a blubbery mess, and a teacher wagged a finger at me out in the hallway about being kind.
My memories morph, twisting into something else. My sneakers stomped on the sidewalk holding one handlebar teaching Payton how to ride a bike without training wheels. I let her go, and she’s flying down the road, the bike wobbling side to side as she pedals.
I’m in middle school, feeling weird in my own skin. Hair on my legs. Voice cracking. I don’t like it. Charlie and Payton would storm into my bedroom in the middle of the night, pulling off my covers. They’d convince me to go swimming, and we’d cannonball into the pool when Mom and Dad weren’t home. Which was always. It was just us living life, unsupervised. I miss making macaroni in the kitchen, standing in the puddle of pool water dripping from my swim trunks.
It floods back. Being a junior in high school. Payton sitting on the barstool in the kitchen wearing a pair of sweatpants too big for her. She’s sobbing, wiping boogers on her hand telling me about Kyle and the rumor rampaging across the school like a vicious wildfire. I’m tossing my old football jersey at her, and it plopped on top of her head. I pick her up the next day, making sure every damn soul sees me kissing her on top of her forehead.
Senior year hits, and my prom date decided to dip and found someone else to take her. I had an extra ticket, and the corsage I bought. Charlie dolled up Payton, curling her hair and throwing a black glitter bomb dress on her. Somewhere in the thousands of pictures I’ve posted online, there is one with us dancing under the dim lights and me kissing her on the forehead.
I’ll love her ‘til my coffin drops.
I snap out of it, my soul sucks back into my body like a vacuum. No matter what I do, or what memory I savor from the past. I’m stuck here on this cold metal bench in a locker room reeking of bleach and feet. This stupid game of Roulette has reigned for the last four years of my life. Each time I try to break the chain another link is attached to it. I’ll never dig myself out of the debt I owe. Brody will keep playing it.
Jared still spits at me. “Ryder!” He hollers and I meet his eyes, and he can see right through me like a glass house. “We are going to lose the game if you don’t get your shit together!”
“I don’t care anymore...”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m done playing Roulette, and if it means I never touch a damn ball again. I don’t care, he’s not taking Payton from me.”
“Seriously, that’s where your head is at?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Coach Storm's voice cuts through the noise, huddling up everyone. I stand. My legs are like lead as I join the circle. I try to focus, to find the spark that once ignited my bloodstream, but it’s buried beneath layers of regret and years of Roulette dragging me down the wrong road.
“Y'all are letting them win! Your emotions are dominating the field!” He’s trying to pump us up by making a turnaround. “You all look like you’ve already lost!”
I know. The other team is eating it all up too. Brody quirks up his eyebrows, biting his bottom lip, and shaking his head at me.
“Shut the fuck up Coach!” Brody snaps, crossing his arms. “Maybe if this fucker gets his head out of his ass we could actually score a touchdown!” He points his finger at me as he laughs. The cocky smile showcases his enjoyment of the show I’m putting on the stage. “Explain to us what the hell that was out there!” His voice ricochets off the tile walls. It’s written all over his face. There is not a care in the world if we win or not. The devil is in the look of his eyes. He wants me to face-plant in the mud.
“You’re the fucking problem. You fucking hazed me and half of these guys for the last four years!” I storm forward shoving him against the lockers with a loud clang. Done. My knuckles turn white. The locker room turns eerily silent, and it makes my skin prickle. It’s only the hum of the fluorescent lights flickering overhead.
“You think you can just keep showing me up in front of everyone!” Brody pushes me back. My heart hammers.
I point a finger at him. “You’ve had an ego since day one! You want eyes focused on you and your fucking dad’s wallet does it for you!” The spit is flying out of my mouth. “Admit it, I was always competition and you know damn well I had a better chance of being drafted than you!”
“What the fuck are you talking about Crab?” One of the linemen uses a hand to tell me to cut it. But I’ve already decapitated my head off and rage is all that is left. If I’m going to drown, all of them are sinking with me.
Coach cocks his head, his brows narrow as his eyes dart back and forth. “What the hell are y’all talking about?”
“Tell him Brody! Tell Coach about Dirty Roulette!” Brody dips his head to the side as I yell it out, he’s licking his lips. His fists clenched at his sides. “Tell him how every year you forced Cheer Phi to steal booze for you! How you blackmailed us. How you post videos of the team fucking those girls from behind! Tell him how you raped my sister and forced me to retract my statement! You posted videos of my girlfriend online for her to be harassed! My moments with her aren’t for your entertainment, but for me and her alone! I’m not leaving her, I don’t give a shit if I never touch a ball again! You’re a bastard!”
All hell breaks loose. Brody’s fist comes flying to my face, I barely have time to duck. His punch lands on the lockers behind me with a loud thud. The vibrations ran down my back. I swing back, my fist connecting with his jaw. A shockwave radiates through my arm, the scars on my knuckles splitting open, bleeding again.
Brody recovers faster than I expected and tackles me to the ground. We hit the floor with a heavy thump and the air is knocked out of my lungs. We roll around, fists flying, grunts and curses fill the air. The metallic taste of blood floods my mouth and he pins me to the floor. Knuckles strike into my lips and each punch makes the world go black. I ram a knee into his groin guard until it’s knocked out of place, and I ram right into his balls. I get a split second to push him off and I scramble to my feet.
He stands up just as fast, wiping blood from his nose. “You’re going to regret this,” he growls.
“I got nothing left to lose, you little bitch!”
He lunges at me.
Chapter fifty
Payton
ONE. I breathe out of my mouth. TWO. I zip up the uniform jacket. THREE. I throw the lanyard over my head. I’m still wearing my cheer skirt. I’m a master of disguise. Not. There are so many people with drinks, hot dogs, and popcorn. Employees are selling ice cold beers.
I ignore the employees only sign and make a break for it, running up a flight of stairs passing people wearing headphones carrying electrical equipment. I’m supposed to meet up with Mr. Clorox at the control panel. He said he’d be here, and I’m praying to baby Jesus he managed to slip through.
I’m sweating, it’s skating down my face, but I have to look like I belong here. I reach a set of double doors and pull on the handle, realizing it’s locked. Shit. I giggle and look around the people buzzing about, pretending I’m just stupid. But no one notices.
This is the door that I have to swipe with the security card. I take the lanyard and run it across the box contraption and it blinks red. I curse under my breath and press the card against it again and the green light blinks while the door unlocks.
