The picture is from this evening, and it’s of Oswald holding my crutches against his body. They must have snapped the photo right before he helped me out of the car.
Messages and notifications continue to ding on his phone, which is kind of silly because if anyone took the time to actually look at the picture, they would see the crutches are way too small for him and both are under one arm.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, feeling guilty, even though it’s not really my fault.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” he says quickly, but I can tell he’s distracted. “Damn it, it’s been shared and reposted a bunch of times already.” He leans his head back and lets out a loud growl.
“Why are you worried about it? It’s bullshit!” Memphis asks.
“Because they tagged the football program, and I don’t want to deal with this.” He pushes his phone across the island, and it continues to get notifications.
“You could hire someone to manage your social media for you,” I offer. I had a few friends that used a PR firm.
“I can’t afford something like that,” Oswald scoffs.
“You should check with the football team’s PR department. They might have a solution.”
“Should I make a post saying it’s not true?” He’s looking between me and Memphis.
“I would delete the app and forget about it.” Memphis gathers our plates to rinse and then puts them in the dishwasher.
A knock on the door has me turning, but Oswald gets up and walks over to answer it before I can. “Hey,” he says in a subdued tone as Bates enters and wipes his boots on the small rug. I notice he changed into a different pair of jeans and a faded maroon T-shirt that fits him nicely.
“Looks like you might have power soon.” He gazes around the room, and his face slips into a slight frown. “What’s going on?”
“Someone posted a picture of Oz with Waylynn’s crutches, and now everyone is saying he’s hurt,” Memphis answers.
“It’s not a big deal. I’m just tired of people talking shit,” Oswald grumbles.
“You’re going to have to get used to it, man, especially if you go pro.” Bates takes the stool Memphis vacated when he got up.
“You want to go pro?” I don’t know why I didn’t make that assumption already. I bet everyone who plays in college hopes to go pro.
“Maybe. How else am I going to keep you in this kind of luxury?” He finally smiles, and my heart feels a little lighter, knowing he’s not quite so upset.
“Just so you know, that’s certainly not a requirement of mine.”
“Oh yeah, what is required then?” Oswald leans his head close to mine and peers down at me with eyes so sweet and blue, I almost confess he’s one of those needs, but I’m not brave enough.
“People are much more important than things,” I manage to say right before the light above the sink clicks on, drawing my attention. There’s a strange whir as the power surges through the house, turning the fridge and other appliances back on.
Oswald captures my lips in a soft kiss, and my eyes sink closed. I have lots of money, and it’s never once made me feel like this.
Memphis
My eyes are stillon Waylynn when Oz leans over and kisses her. She probably has no idea how much her words mean to him. Hell, to both of us. She might not have come right out and said he was more important to her than money, but it was as good as.
Bates is sitting right next to them, and he’s not even trying to hide the fact that he’s watching them kiss with a hell of a lot more interest than what would normally be acceptable. I’m not surprised, since he’s always been a bit of a voyeur.
When Waylynn pulls back from the kiss, her eyes are hooded with desire as she runs her tongue over her bottom lip. She’s still watching Oswald’s mouth as if she’s trying to fight the urge to kiss him again. She’s fucking beautiful.
I try to think about how I would feel if she were kissing Bates instead of Oz. Would I accept it as easily or be jealous of the way she’s looking at him? No anger or resentment builds in my gut, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say there was a little unease. What if she likes him more? Or what if she realizes that my attitude and need for control are too much to deal with when she has the option of two much easier going men who want her nearly as much as I do?
As if she can sense my eyes on her, she finally tears her gaze from Oswald and looks directly at me. The moment our eyes connect, all the insecurities I felt slip into the background. I don’t question how she feels about me when she’s looking at me. There’s no need—it’s written all over her lovely face.
“I talked to Hilbrand,” I confess, and her eyes widen a bit.
“You did? What did she say?” Her voice is just above a whisper, as if she’s afraid of what I might tell her.
