Page 13 of His Fractured Girl

“Ouch!” He rubs over the spot. “That hurt.”

“Says the guy who gets tackled left and right on the football field.” I fail to believe he can’t take a little flick. “Are you really that soft?”

The way his eyes narrow in, turning a darker shade of brown, takes the butterflies in my stomach for a loop. “There isn’t a single part of my body that’s soft, babe.”

His insinuation isn’t lost on me. I turn my head to face the window, trying to hide the heat in my cheeks.

“So, where’d you grow up, pretty girl?” He starts the car, and I appreciate the topic change because my thoughts are running straight down into temptation, and we all know where that’s gotten me in the past.

“I grew up outside of Philly.” I can’t even get myself to say the name of the town I was raised in. Everything about that place triggers the memories. I’m just grateful my parents finally decided to sell the house and move out to the country. They finally grew tired of all the vandalism and eggings. Even after I transferred schools, it didn’t stop. My parents tried to file complaints and charges, but the cops just chalked it up to “kids being kids,” and all the surveillance footage showed were people in ski masks. Though, I knew exactly which kids were responsible—and the reason they were doing it.

“So, then how come you didn’t go to Penn State? That’s a good school.”

Because Maddock and all the monsters are going there.

“I wanted a change of scenery. Something new. Different.” I wanted to get as far away from hell as I possibly could and have a fresh start.

“What about your friends? Did they all stay in state?”

What friends? I had no friends. Torrin is the first person I can actually say genuinely likes me. “I went to a different school for my senior year, so I really don’t know where anyone ended up.” Which is a lie. I stalked everyone’s social media, checking to see which colleges they’d chosen before I sent in my acceptance letter. That’s why I ended up in Arizona. It seems no one from my previous school wanted to come down to the desert land.

“Wow, that sucks that you had to change schools your senior year. How come?” And this is where the conversation stops. I’m not getting into the details of what happened at Sarah’s party or the months that followed. It’s definitely not first-date material. Or even fifth. I’m not sure when it’s okay to reveal the fact that I was so desperate to be desired I fell for a player’s every line and ended up betraying a friend. Honestly, had I told Travis the truth this afternoon, he may not have wanted to go on this date with me tonight. He may think I’m as evil as Presley does.

“I felt like the boarding school was a better fit. Now, it’s my turn to get to ask a question. How come you’re so invested in marketing if you’re going to play professional ball?”

He glances to the side, and I know he can sense my avoidance, and he’s not letting me off the hook. “Why did you think it would be a better fit?”

Because I needed to get away from all the people who made my life a living hell. I couldn’t breathe inside those walls, and every time I’d look at Presley, a gut-wrenching pain would slice through me.

“I just thought it would give me a better chance on my college application,” I state, hoping he backs off before my thoughts get consumed by the nightmare of my regret. “Now, can you answer my question?”

His curious stare locks onto mine and I can see the question burning on the tip of his tongue. My stomach is twisting up, praying he doesn’t ask.

“My interest in marketing started because I get asked to sponsor products all the time. I wanted to learn how to choose the right companies and brands to represent, as well as how to market them. If I was going to put my name behind the product, I wanted to make sure I liked the image that was being sold. But now, it’s become a second passion of mine. I even get asked my input by companies as they’re coming up with new designs,which is seriously cool. Plus, if something happens with my career or I get tired of playing ball, I want to be able to have something to fall back on. And not just have to become a sports broadcaster.” He smirks.

I think this is the first time I’ve ever met a football player who actually has depth beyond the game, and interests beyond girls. It’s painting an entirely different picture than the one I’d conjured in my mind. He’s surprising me at every turn.

“That’s really awesome, Travis. I think you’re the first guy who doesn’t just care about how much the sponsorship pays. It’s cool that you only want to represent brands that are in line with your beliefs.” I don’t think it’s just responsible, I think it speaks to his character.

“So, tell me, Soph. For your personal branding assignment due on Friday, what are your three branding pillars?”

I was hoping we could talk about this. I didn’t want him to think I was trying to get insider information on how to get an A on the assignment, but since he brought it up.

“I’ve been struggling with these. Color is easy because my favorite is magenta. I was debating between going with my love of painting and my love of flowers, so I was trying to marry both and was planning to make my initials look like pieces of floral artwork. And for my tagline….” I hesitate on telling him, but if I decide to use it then he’ll see it anyway. “It’s going to be: A broken stem doesn’t make a flower weak. It only makes the roots grow stronger.”

When his eyes turn in my direction, I know he sees it. The pain I so desperately try to hide. My fear that deep down I will always be broken.

“So, what do you think?” I force the smile. “Is it A-worthy? Or should I still work on it?” I’m hoping he doesn’t dig right down to the root of my pain and ask me why I chose the tagline.

“I think it’s brilliant.”

There’s suddenly a shift in the air. Like the sun coming out on a cold winter’s day, promising that the ice is going to melt and the flowers will bloom again. My heart is starting to beat faster. His eyes drop to my lips. All I’d have to do is lean forward and I’d be granted a taste of his warmth.

The honk of a horn has his attention snapping back to the road. The light turned green and neither of us realized.

“So, what’syourtagline?” I ask trying to get back to neutral ground.

“Mine is: Everyone can play the game. But you can only win with honesty.”

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