Page 28 of The Player Penalty
She fascinates me; if given the chance, she would do the same for anyone else.
“Now, you feel differently,” I guess.
Matteo’s interest in her triggered something ugly in me, and I’m still unsure what to name it. We’ve never competed for women, and why would we? There are plenty out there, and neither of us wants commitment.
“I’m making decisions,” she says.
Nice and cryptic.
If Lily wants it, Matteo is a decent guy. He would treat her well. For all that, I can’t get myself to say this out loud. She belongs to me, and I fully realize this sounds like I consider her my property when it’s deeper than that.
Lily and I went from strangers to close friends over this past year. If I’m honest, she’s easily my best friend. I’m a decade older than her and feel more comfortable in her presence than anyone else.
She might want more, and I’m merely her friend. Where does it leave me if she finds what she’s looking for?
Selfish thoughts only prove why I’ve avoided deeper entanglements.
I take one of her hands between mine and stroke down one finger and then the other.
Lily stares at me, waiting for a response, only I’m unsure which one to give. Telling her it’ll happen sounds empty, and telling her I don’t want it to may be honest, but it’s completely selfish. Like me. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you. You know that, right?”
Lily is a virgin. She’s never even been kissed. That piece of news still washes over me. There’s an old-fashioned word to describe her. Untouched.
The ugly feeling in my gut is still there, too. I didn’t recognize it earlier, and now I do.
11-Lily
Bristol Motor Speedway
Julian once commented on my legs. Unfortunately, Bristol is freezing, and I need to hide them in a pair of jeans. They’re my tightest, skinniest pair, and they still don’t set them off as well as I hoped. My hair is styled, and my makeup is perfect.
Dad is still working, which saves me from a barrage of questions.
I take a last glance in the mirror and gratitude hits. Dad wrote a note in Sharpie, so big that it wouldn’t be missed.Take your medicine.
Julian’s trailer is open, and he waits inside. The spare key stays tucked in my back pocket, secure in case it’s ever needed. He gave it to me when the season started, back in Daytona, saying it could be used in an emergency or if I ever needed a place to escape. It was a kind offer, but the part I most appreciated was the level of trust he put in me. Julian closes himself off from people, choosing to be friendly rather than a true friend. For some reason that I don’t understand, he’s made me an exception.
“Bristol is a short track,” Julian says at my entrance. He sits on the sofa, legs spread wide. His hair is combed and styled, and his clothes give off their familiar tailored look. He shakes hisphone toward me without looking up. “Between quals, practice, and the big meet and greet, there hasn’t been any time to check out motorsports news to see what they’re saying.” He looks up from his phone. Julian’s bold eyes move up my body. “Short tracks are a pain in my ass.”
“Sorry.” He may not enjoy them, but that statement is meaningless to me. Dad recently commented on Julian’s performance during dinner, stating he was off to an incredible start. Then he guessed Julian would screw it up. “If it helps, they’re my least favorite kind. Long ones are better.”
Julian licks his lips and leans back. “Come here,” he says, nodding towards the empty spot beside him. I manage one step before he blocks me with his leg. “You look amazing.”
“Yes, that was the plan.”
He frowns. “We could stay here if you change your mind.”
Is he afraid I’ll embarrass him? Notwithstanding my awkward performance in front of his friend, Matteo, I’ve been doing rather fantastic.
The invisible audience following me around has taken a break. My brain is silent.
“We were going to explore.” I remind him.
Bristol’s smaller size means everything is outside the track, opening up a world I want to explore.
Julian’s frown grows.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
