“I don’t blame you for hating me,” I confess, which seems apropos since the parking lot we’re crossing is attached to a church. “I’d hate me too. Hell, I do kind of hate myself.”
More than words can say, because I’m really not the kind of guy who hooks up with a woman and calls her the wrong name. Just the thought of hurting anyone like that—especially Sutton—is a kick in the balls.
“I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” I shove my hands in my pockets and draw a steadying breath. “I’m sorry. The night we hooked up, I was blackout drunk and I don’t remember a thing.” She turns to me, disbelief etched in the lines of her face. “I’m not making excuses. I wouldn’t do that. The way I treated you was unacceptable. Full stop. I take complete responsibility for my actions, but I wanted you to know the truth.” I pause, hating my next words. “To know why I didn’t remember.”
Hell, why I still don’t remember. The entire night is a blank spot in my memory, but there was a condom in the trash when I woke up, and I know the embarrassing story she told at Sig Chi is the truth.
“You invited me to that party,” she says through clenched teeth, her words vibrating with hurt and anger. “In American History.”
I wrack my brain, searching for the memory. Then it hits me.
Christ. I’d thrown the offer out without much thought. I hadn’t even known her name, but she’d let me borrow her notes and it seemed like the right thing to do. I never actually thought she’d show up.
And that was your first mistake, dumbass.
“Until now, I didn’t even know you showed that night. And I certainly never connected the sweet, studious girl from American History with the blue-haired spitfire who handed me my ass on move in day.”
Sure, the sweet, studious girl who tied her ink-black hair back with a blue and white Wildcat ribbon was pretty, but pretty girls are a dime a dozen on this campus. Make a sharp turn and you’re bound to run into one.
Sutton makes a sound of disgust and sweeps her trademark hair over her shoulder. “After I realized just how invisible I’d become, I made a few changes.”
Nausea swirls in my gut. I know what it’s like to go unseen. To look in the mirror and feel utterly unremarkable.
And despite the casual way she threw out the information, sharing it cost her.
Vulnerability is never easy, but letting your guard down—even under the guise of sarcasm—with someone who hurt you? That takes guts.
I can’t go back and change the past, but here, in this dark parking lot, I can meet her halfway.
A secret for a secret.
“At my high school, being a football player wasn’t a big deal.” If anything, it was an embarrassment. “Our program was…underdeveloped.”
“Well, boo hoo for you,” she snarks, and though I can’t see her face, I can practically hear her eyes roll to the back of her head as she pivots, turning to walk along the exterior wall of the massive stone church.
“We lost more than we won and the only reason people came to our games was to see the award-winning band.”
Hell, it’s a miracle Coach gave me a chance, all things considered. But he said I filled a need, and he believed I had untapped potential.
“Okay, so the band geeks got all the ass.” She shrugs. “I’m supposed to care about this why?”
“I didn’t date. Didn’t go to a single party. School and football were my life. When I got to Waverly freshman year, it was more of the same, but the transition was hard. The academics and the game were more rigorous than anything I’d experienced in the past.” I probably would’ve flunked out my first semester if it weren’t for the academic center and mandatory team study halls. “I was redshirting and didn’t see much playing time, which also meant I didn’t get a lot of attention from the women on campus.”
“Dios mío.” She stops and I turn to face her. “Are you seriously trying to make me feel bad for you right now? Because, spoiler alert, that’s not going to happen.”
I laugh, low and quiet, the sound devoid of mirth. “I’m not looking for your sympathy, Shorty, and if you let me finish, you’ll understand why I’m telling you this story.”
“Fine.” She makes anout with itgesture. “Cuéntame.”
“Sophomore year I saw more playing time and everything changed. I started partying with the team, and there were always women hanging around. Women who wanted to hook up with hard bodied athletes. At first, I blew them off, but when the older guys started giving me shit, asking if I was saving myself for marriage, the pressure got to me. I was struggling to find my footing and being the only known virgin on the team wasn’t exactly helping. I decided to just hook up and enjoy a little no strings fun.” I scrub a hand over my face, wishing I could give my younger self the kick in the ass I obviously needed. “Everyone was doing it and it didn’t seem like a big deal.”
Her nostrils flare and I press on.
“But when the time came to go through with it, I was nervous and I drank too much. I don’t even remember my first time, but from what I hear, it was pretty lackluster.” I force myself to meet her eyes because I want her to understand. To know how colossally I fucked up. To know she wasn’t the problem. “What was the word you used?” I pause as understanding dawns in her eyes. “Oh, right. Lousy.”
19
SUTTON
