Guilt strikes anew, devouring me like a lion does its prey. He’s not the only one who lied to the team. A few months ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but now? The sharp sting of regret pierces my chest. Not regret for being with Austin—I can’t bring myself to regret the hours I’ve spent wrapped in his arms or the pleasure he’s given me—just for lying about it.
I made a promise to my mom and to the team, but it was flawed from the start. If joining the team has taught me anything, it’s that maybe not all football players are asses. Austin’s been nothing but patient and honest with me from the start. And he doesn’t deserve to have me piling on when he already feels like shit.
“This isn’t your fault,” I tell him, resting my head against his chest. His heart beats a staccato rhythm beneath his worn Wildcat’s tee. I close my eyes, soaking up his warmth and inhaling the masculine scent that’s uniquely Austin. What he doesn’t realize is that he’s his own worst critic. No one will ever be as hard on him as he is on himself. “You’re human. You’re bound to make mistakes. We all are. The guys will understand. And they’ll forgive you if you take responsibility and apologize.” I sigh. “My mom, on the other hand…”
Austin’s arms close around me, and he lowers his head so it rests on mine. The season’s drawing to a close and when it’s over, so is our arrangement. The realization hurts more than expected, so I force the thought from my mind and lose myself in his touch.
The quiet moment doesn’t last nearly long enough. My phone rings, and I know without looking that it’s my mom. Everyone else I know texts.
“I should get that.” I separate myself from Austin and smooth my shirt. Then I suck in a deep breath and square my shoulders. Better to get this over with quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. I pick up the phone and swipe to accept the call. “Hi, Mom.”
“Is it true?” Her voice is carefully controlled, no chipper greeting today.
“Is what true?” I don’t know why I bother with this charade. Old habits, I suppose. We both know what she’s talking about. And we both know I know.
“Kennedy.”
I bite my lip, unsure how to answer. Austin’s watching me, no doubt curious to see how I’ll handle the conversation with my mom. Worry lines his brow, and his lips are pressed flat. An uneasy giggle almost slips out, but I manage to stifle it. He’s as nervous as I am about this call. It’s kind of adorable. And it grounds me. This is my mom. She may be disappointed in me, but she still loves me. Always will.
“How did you find out?”
“I have Google alerts on you, dear. It was Joseph’s idea.” She says it almost cheerfully, like it’s perfectly natural to cyberstalk your kid. “Don’t change the subject. Is there something going on with you and this boy?”
“His name is Austin. And it’s not what it looks like.” I cringe. It’s worse. “Austin and I are—” I stop, replaying her words in my head. “Wait, who’s Joseph?”
“The gentleman I’m dating. Didn’t I tell you? I signed up for one of those online matchmaking sites now that I have more free time on my hands.”
“Uh, no. I think I’d remember that.” My mom is on a dating site? And who is this Joseph? So. Many. Questions. Like, is this why she sounds so happy when she ought to be ripping me a new one for breaking my promise?
“Now, about this Austin,” she says with less ire than I’d expect. “You know how I feel about football players, but if you’re involved with him, I want to meet him.”
Who is this person and what’s she done with my mother? “Um, it’s not really like that.”
The line is silent, and I check to make sure I haven’t dropped the call.
“Then what exactly is it like, dear?”
I turn my back on Austin, who’s watching me intently, hanging on every word. “We’re TWB.”
“TWB? Is this internet speak? You know I don’t understand that crap.”
“Teammates with benefits,” I mutter, cheeks burning. There’s a snort of laughter behind me, but I can’t bring myself to turn around. I would sooner melt into the floor at this point. My mom and I have always been open about sex, but usually my partner isn’t standing right behind me, listening.
“Kennedy Lane Carter. You know I’m a proponent of women’s sexual health, but even I have my limits.” Okay, so Mom’s not a fan of casual sex. At least, not with football players. Probably how things started with my father.
Before I can respond, Austin snatches the phone from my hand. I try to grab it back, certain my eyes must be bugging out of my head, but he holds up a finger, asking me to give him a minute.
“Your funeral,” I mutter.
“Mrs. Carter,” he says, sounding smooth, confident, and annoyingly calm. “My name is Austin Reid. I’m a senior here at Waverly, studying business administration. I also play football with Kennedy.” Way to downplay your All-American status. “I think I owe you and Kennedy an apology.” He turns to face me, gaze moving over me like a lover’s caress. “I should’ve asked your daughter out on a proper date weeks ago. She deserves more than I’ve been able to give her, and if it weren’t for her, I don’t know how I’d get through this season. I know you don’t have much reason to trust me, but I know how close you and Kennedy are, and I’d like your blessing to take her on a real date.”
He wants to go on a date?
But…Austin doesn’t do dates. He doesn’t have the time or energy. Not when he’s so close to making his dreams come true. Is this a ploy to placate
