Page 96 of The Quarterback Sneak

Rolling my foot against the path, I stare through the gates. I will have to ring that bell if I want in, but who’s going to answer?

As I garner the courage to walk over there, I spot Jamie’s Range Rover sitting in the drive with his jersey number vinyled on the back. He’s here to win her over; why else would he be here so late after a game? Or maybe he already has.

I can make out the faint shadow as he walks up the path to the house, and I watch intently as he rings the bell. Checkingthe premises, I shuffle into a bush, wondering if the security cameras are picking up on my eager ass.

Honey’s mom opens the door with a surprised smile, inviting him in. Just like that, he’s accepted. No questions about what he’s doing there so late or why he cheated on Honey. Like he’s said before. He doesn’t have to do a thing to be invited into their home. He may be an asshole, but her family thinks he’s perfect for Honey and will do anything for that to happen.

And then there’s me.

The tattered, poor boy wishing to be part of a life he should never have had access to. We’re like oil and water. Our paths never should have crossed, and I never should have tried to take what wasn’t mine.

Stepping back, I adjust my leather jacket over my shoulders and go to my bike. Her parents won’t stop forcing Jamie down her throat, and as much as I like to believe Honey is a renegade, she will not go off script for me.

Everything I planned to say to Honey goes from my head. Am I too late?

Jamie designed the bet knowing I’d never win. This life isn’t mine, and maybe I should stop thinking otherwise.

Sighing, I whack the kickstand with my foot and drive home. Honey and I need to talk. We’re still dating for all intents and purposes, and I need to know where I stand before this ends, but I won’t talk to her tonight because I refuse to come second to Jamie.

Talking will, unfortunately, have to wait.

Chapter Thirty-One

Honey

Music blasts through my headphones as I wipe the tears from my cheeks and fall onto my pillow. I don’t even know why I’m crying over this. I should be happy. Zach isn’t a father, and Tiff is only his cousin. After he won, I should have been running out on that field, congratulating him and telling him how I felt, but now I don’t know what to think.

I opened up to him. He found parts of me no one was willing to see before. He didn’t judge me or make me feel like I was that bitchy girl everyone portrayed me as. The knife to the stomach is that he didn’t have enough confidence in me to tell me about his family. He lied, told me his cousin was his sister, and let me believe he was a father. Ultimately, he didn’t trust me the way I trusted him, and that hurts.

I can’t deny things were developing between us, even if Zach wasn’t interested in being my real boyfriend. We did things you don’t do with someone you view as just a friend, and the way he kissed me after telling me to wait for him has my head spinningthrough the stratosphere. I don’t know what to think or how to feel, and I’m at the point now where I need to talk to him.

“Hunniford.” My eyes spring open when my mother lifts my headphones with a scheming smile across her face. “I’ve been calling you for five minutes, and you’ve been ignoring me.” She bristles.

Squinting, I look at her and then to the headphones, hoping she makes the connection. My eyes feel raw, and my head is pounding. “What time is it?”

“Late, but there’s someone here to see you.” Her face is frozen into a smile, and I can’t tell whether she’s happy or sad about my impending visitor.

I pull myself up, sit on the bed, and start to smile because only one person crosses my mind.

“Hurry up. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Pushing the covers away from my legs, I hop off the bed and skip to the pink terrycloth robe hanging behind my door. As I go to grasp it, my mother’s voice stops me in my tracks. “Hunniford. You’re not going down there in that.”

I roll my eyes because my mother would be disappointed in me if I went down to greet guests in anything less than a ball gown and my hair coiffed to perfection. I loll my head in her direction and say, “He’ll either see me in this or not at all.” Zach doesn’t care how I dress and doesn’t want me to be the perfect princess the rest of the world thinks I am.

Plucking the robe off the hook, I swing open the door and leave before she can protest. As I walk down the stairs, I adjust my hair. I really should have looked in the mirror before coming down here. What if there’s drool running down my cheek? I wipe my face, fairly certain my mother wouldn’t let me walk down the hall looking that bad, and my breath catches when I see who’s standing there.

I should have known.

Why was I so naïve to think that my mom would willingly let Zach walk into our house at this time of night?

Jamie is the only person she’d let walk through the door to try and win back my heart. The cheating asshole is only trying to win me back so he can win a bet, and I will not let that happen. No matter what happens with Zach, Jamie will not be the winner in this story.

“What are you doing here?” With my arms crossed, I silently assess his nervous form. Standing in our expansive hallway, he’s wearing his clean football jersey, and his hair is still as perfectly styled as it was before the game. Not getting any playtime is one way to avoid a shower after the game.

His mouth pulls into a lackluster grin, and he runs his hand through his hair. “Hey, Honey. I, uh, bought you these.” He looks down at the bouquet he’s holding and pushes the long-stem red roses in my direction.

They are my mother’s favorite.

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