The Fall (Rules of Play Book 4) Read online

  “Fuck,” I growl, slamming the steering wheel. It’s pouring out. Lighting rips a white scar across the black sky, and thunder rolls through my bones. It’s like the universe is saying, Fuck you, August. Nothing new, really.

  Take a breath, August. Chill. So your car broke down and it’s the middle of the night and you have no idea where you are. It’ll be fine.

  Worse things have happened to me. Once I got mugged by a taxi driver and had to walk twelve miles back to my apartment. Another time I got jumped in Guatemala. But the worst, by far, was getting stripped of my scholarship at Denver.

  Thinking of it makes me see red. No. Now isn’t the time to get angry. I can’t think clearly when I’m angry.

  One by one, I loosen my fingers from the steering wheel. Then I check my phone. According to the GPS, I’m less than five miles away from the campus, and seven miles away from my house.

  I don’t have the money to call a taxi, and I don’t trust them anyway. And there’s no way I’m walking through this lightning storm. That’s just asking for trouble. I flip through my contacts, searching for anyone I can call to pick me up. The trouble is, I haven’t made friends yet at Notre Dame.

  My finger hovers of a name.

  Maverick Dumont.

  We exchanged numbers last week. I never expected to use it for something like this, and after hooking up, I doubt he wants to voluntarily sit in a car with me, the memory lingering between us. He’s the closest thing I have to a friend though. I’m not sure how late his family dinner runs, but it’s worth a shot.

  Feeling oddly shaky, I press the little phone symbol and wait while the call goes through. He picks up after two rings. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Mav. It’s August.” My fingers tap-tap-tap against the steering wheel. Jittery nerves flutter through me. His voice sounds different over the line. Smoother. I’m thinking of his long eyelashes, so feminine, and his mouth and how good he tastes, and I’m hard, just like that. What is wrong with me? “I’ve run into some car trouble and was wondering if you could help me out.”

  I’m expecting an awkward silence, followed by an I’m busy, or Can’t. But Mav immediately says, “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up.”

  Relief sweeps through me, followed by more intense nerves. He’s coming to get me. “Thanks. I’ll send you my location.” Then I hang up.

  It’s twenty minutes of waiting in my dark car, watching the streetlights blur the water-slicked road ahead of me. The rain comes down so hard it turns the world into a black-gray smear. Eventually, the rain tapers off to a trickle. That’s when I spot headlights coming my way.

  Maverick parks his car in front of mine. He flashes his high beams at me. I hop out of my car and slide into the passenger seat of his. “Thanks,” I say, looking at his face in profile. He nods without looking at me.

  “Did you have to drive a long way to get here?” I ask. “I’ll give you money for gas.”

  “Don’t worry about it. My parents live not far from here. There was bad traffic, that’s why it took so long.” His hands rest on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. We still haven’t moved.

  “Mav,” I whisper. “Everything okay?”

  A whoosh of air escapes his lungs. The sound is shaky. Unsteady. He says the last thing I expect. “I’ve been thinking of you.”

  Heat rushes to the edges of my skin. His eyes capture the light. They’re both soft and hard. I want to ask him about Kaylie, but it’s not my place. I can’t imagine what he’s going through. Mourning his girlfriend, and discovering he’s also attracted to a man. It must be scary for him.

  Since I don’t speak—can’t speak—he goes on. “You’re the first person who’s been on my mind since…” I don’t think he’s going to say it, but then he does. “I haven’t been looking for anything. I’m not looking for anything. I just… I want you to know you’re on my mind. For what it’s worth.”

  Fuck, I want to kiss him. I want to take his hand and brush his thumb with mine and tell him in all the unspoken ways that he doesn’t have to be alone, that I’m here for him. He’s like a bird with a broken wing that can’t remember what it means to fly. I want him to remember.

  I don’t get that chance though. He puts the car in gear and says, “Let’s go home, August.”

  It’s quiet after that.

  It’s so dark out. I have no idea where we’re going or what road we’re taking to get back to our house. I have to use my GPS to get anywhere in this place. We drive through a more rural area, then turn onto a road lined with two-story houses. In my peripheral vision, brilliant light cascades from the surrounding dark. My eyes go to a huge light-up sign on the side of the road.

  County Fair.

  Without thinking, I grab Mav’s forearm, not noticing when he stiffens under my fingers. “Hey, there’s a fair going on.” I turn to look at him. Take a chance, my head whispers. Try. What’s the worst that could happen? If he says no, he says no. No harm, no foul. “It looks like it’s still open…”

  He follows my gaze to the lit Ferris wheel, the giant swings, the carousel. Maverick flicks his attention to me. Then he nods and turns into the parking lot.

  Chapter 9

  Maverick

  When August called me, I was already pulling onto the street where we lived. The location he sent me wasn’t close, even though I said it was. I went all the way back for him. That’s what a good roommate does, right?

  There was something in his voice. A need I don’t think he realized was there. It had me turning the wheel, reversing, speeding back the way I’d come from. When I spotted his car sitting on the side of the road, my heart knocked hard against my sternum. It’s still pounding as we park and approach the entrance gates to the fair. An unexpected, yet not entirely unwanted, detour. There is so much presence to him. He’s like a fire I can’t stand to move away from.

  “Hi,” August says to the woman in the ticket window. “Is the fair still open?”

  “Yes sir, it is. Two tickets?”

  He nods and begins to pull out his wallet, but I catch his arm. “Let me.”

  His eyes flash. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.”

  Do I want to fight him on this? Not especially. With a short nod, I lower my hand, though the heat of his skin lingers on my fingertips. Next time, I promise.

  It’s sprinkling. The rain is warm against my skin, steaming the air to mist. It smells of fried food and wet asphalt. At my side, August accepts the tickets, passing me one. Our fingers brush, and my heart starts pumping like crazy. There’s no change in expression from him. Am I the only one who’s remembering hooking up on the couch?

  Once we past the entrance gates, we find ourselves in the middle of a giant tent that serves everything from hamburgers to corndogs to popcorn to fried Oreos. It seems as if the entire population of fair attendees has taken refuge under the tent. There’s not a single unoccupied picnic table or chair.

  “You hungry?” I ask August.

  He shakes his head even as his eyes track a man chowing down on a giant turkey leg. “I’m good. Let’s check out the rides.”

  “I don’t know,” I tease. “You look like you kind of want a turkey leg.”

  He turns to me and makes a face. A bunch of people try to wind their way through the available space, forcing August to brush up against me unless he wants to be moved over. “I think turkey legs are disgusting. But I can’t stop myself from watching someone else one. It’s grossly fascinating.”

  I can see the point. Grease coats the man’s face and trickles down his chin. I, too, make a face of disgust, and August laughs. It sounds right near my ear.

  “Rides?” he asks me, eyes twinkling. His hand brushes mine, then retreats. I convince myself I imagined it.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Rides.”

  Of course, the first thing he goes to is the roller coaster
.

  My heart drops. The rumble of the coaster flying over the tracks sounds small, tinny, as if it comes from far off in the distance, even though it’s a monster of a ride, serpentine and roaring into the night. The riders scream as they reach the loop before heading into a steep dive, their hands in the air. My stomach feels queasy.

  August grins and looks at me. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. “Wanna ride? It’s only one buck a person.”

  I made a noncommittal sound. Hell no, I’m not going on that death trap. “You know, I think I’ll get myself a slice of pizza,” I say, voice a croak. Sweat springs to my neck. “I’ll watch. How about that?”

  His green gaze narrows. His freckles stand out starkly against his skin, and I can’t help but notice how the rain has molded the wet fabric of his shirt to his chiseled chest. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  My silence is answer enough.

  The fucker grins. I take a swipe at him, but he dodges me, laughing like a loon. It’s not the biggest coaster I’ve ever seen, but it’s not small by any means. “Not funny,” I mutter.

  “Have you ever been on a roller coaster?” He stands a few feet away, watching for my next strike.

  “Once. I hated it.”

  “Is it the height?”

  I shake my head, look again at the track stretching far above us. It’s enormous. A beast coming awake. “I don’t like being upside down.” Even with the bar covering your shoulders and locking into place, I’m forever convinced I’m going to slip out. I’m sure it’s happened to someone, somewhere.

  The coaster comes to a halt at the end of the track. The riders look exhilarated as the bars rise and they climb off their seats, chattering like mad. The line for the ride stretches despite the sprinkling rain. I imagine it was even longer before the weather drove people to take shelter.

  August sucks in a breath. “No way.”

  I follow to where he stares. It’s one of those water gun games where you have to aim the water at a tiny bullseye.

  “I haven’t played this game in forever!” He looks like a kid in a candy shop. “Wanna play me?”

  The question is harmless enough, but my mind goes elsewhere. To a place far dirtier than I’m comfortable with.

  I brush a finger over my cheek. My skin feels hot to the touch. “You’re on.”

  After paying the game attendant, we sit side by side on the round metal stools and position our water guns at our respective bulls eyes. I glance at August from the corner of my eye. His face is pinched in concentration. It makes me laugh. I don’t think there’s such a thing as a non-competitive athlete.

  He turns toward me at the sound. “What?”

  I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek to hold back a smile. “Nothing.”

  He’s quiet. Then: “Want to make this game more interesting?”

  How interesting? In what ways? “What do you have in mind?” I ask warily. Not that I’m against competition, but knowing my brothers and their bets, I’ve learned to avoid them, avoid the embarrassment of losing.

  A secret smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. His eyes are green as jewels. “Loser has to go on a ride of the winner’s choosing.”

  I decide then and there I won’t lose. Because if I lose, he’s going to make me go on the roller coaster, and there’s no way in hell I’m riding that death trap.

  “You’re on.” I’m not going to lose. I won’t.

  The game attendant says, “On the bell.”

  August looks at me.

  I look at him.

  The ringer sounds.

  Game on.

  Water shoots out the ends of our water guns. Mine hits the bulls eye, the tiny black dot in the center, dead on. My dolphin starts moving forward on the robotic contraption overhead. Whoever’s dolphin reaches the shore first, wins. August swears, but he’s not far behind. I make the mistake of glancing in his direction, and my water jet goes off course.

  “Shit!”

  August laughs.

  I shove him. He falls sideways off the stool. He curses again, and then it’s my turn to laugh. I hit the bulls eye. My dolphin keeps moving. I overtake August, and he can’t catch up, no matter how hard he tries.

  The ringer screams.

  Winner.

  August scowls at me, and I chuckle, feeling lighter than I have all week. “Aw, don’t be a baby. Here.” I pass him the stuffed animal the game attendant gives me, and August swallows, rubbing a finger over the penguin’s head.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” he mutters, clearly embarrassed. His neck is beet red. The curse of pale skin.

  I shrug. “It’s nothing.” Only it doesn’t feel that way. Something passes between us. Something huge and overwhelming, too large to swallow in one go. August clears his throat and looks around. “So what are you going to torture me on? A kiddie ride?”

  “Not exactly.” I lead us through the growing crowd. Now that it’s stopped raining, everyone streams from under the tent.

  When I stop, he groans. Fear tightens his mouth. The guy looks miserable.

  “Oh come on,” I say. “You can’t be afraid of a Ferris wheel!” It’s like a kiddy ride. Slow, peaceful. When you reach the top, you can see for miles.

  He makes a face. “At least with the roller coaster, you’re locked in. See those benches?” He waves toward the old metal cars that swing as people climb aboard. “See how easily you can slip out of it?”

  “I won’t let you fall,” I say lowly. The urge to take his hand is so great I have to stuff mine inside my pockets to stop myself. Not going there.

  Something in his face softens. Our eyes lock for a breathless moment, the two of us standing in the middle of the pathway while people mill about us with their fried food and stuffed animals. “Promise?”

  What is happening here?

  Why do I feel like the world is spinning?

  My throat bobs. “Promise.”

  We climb aboard the Ferris wheel. The ride attendant lowers the bar into our laps. August watches it in distrust, as if the metal might crumble away the moment he takes his attention off of it.

  With a great heave, we’re soaring. August clamps his hand onto my arm. He’s shaking.

  It feels completely natural to draw him against my side. “You’re safe,” I whisper into his ear.

  His eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t let go.”

  “I won’t.”

  I’m utterly at peace. It’s space, cool air on my skin, so many stars above. Everything is bright. It’s… here.

  We go around once, and on the second cycle, we stop at the top. Our cart rocks back and forth with the motion. I press my forehead against August’s temple and breathe him in. “Are you scared?” I murmur.

  He nods, his jaw tight. “Are you?”

  When his eyes meet mine, I have the sense we’re no longer talking about being on a Ferris wheel. The lights sparkle all around us. In this moment, the world seems so large. I’m one person, small, unimportant. But I’m here, aren’t I? I’m here, and I’m not leaving it anytime soon.

  “I am,” I say quietly, unconsciously scooting closer so our thighs press together. “But not in the way you think.”

  All my brothers like men. It’s normal to me. I’m not afraid of the unknown. I understand I know only pieces of myself, and as I get older, the whole gets clearer. So I’m attracted to August. So what? Love is love is love.

  “I’m afraid because I thought I wouldn’t feel like this again. Wouldn’t enjoy anyone else’s company. I’m afraid it’s going to be taken away.” The final words taper to a whisper, as if by speaking them aloud, they might come true.

  August takes my hand and links our fingers together. “When we live our life in fear,” he says, “are we really living?”

  “Kiss me,” I blurt, then blush to my root
s.

  His face softens, and his hand comes up to cup my jaw, his thumb sweeping over my cheek. “I want to. Are you sure?”

  His face wavers before me before snapping into focus. He’s beautiful. The fall of his red hair, the way his freckles clump around his nose, so dark compared to the paleness of his skin, that bit of scruff darkening his square jaw. I lift my hand, press my thumb to his bottom lip, and watch how it sinks it. “Yes.”

  The press of his warm mouth wrenches a groan from me. I arch into his touch, and the world falls away. We’re in the air, we’re floating, high in the clouds, even higher, with the stars. I remember the brutal feel of August’s mouth and hot tongue, but he’s so gentle tonight. He kisses like he’s trying to savor me, like I’m a knot he wants to unravel piece by piece.

  My hands cup his face. One of his hands tangles in my hair so he can hold me steady as he completely and expertly ravishes my mouth. I am a cloud. I am air. I am free.

  We kiss until the Ferris wheel starts to descend, bringing us back to earth. August pulls away, his mouth swollen with our kisses. He presses one last kiss to my cheek, the burn from his scruff abrading my skin.

  My eyes sting with tears. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “No,” he says. His eyes are open. He is unafraid. “Thank you.”

  Chapter 10

  August

  First game of the season, and I feel like I’m going to puke.

  We’ve been working hard toward this game for three weeks now. There’s been no mercy at practice. We sprint until our legs give out, we scrimmage until the ball blurs with our surroundings, we drink copious amounts of water and energy drinks, we talk strategy until my ears bleed, we watch tapes of past games. Preparation. Strategy. My two new favorite words. All leading up to this moment. The first game. Maybe the most important game. The first game determines how the rest of your season will go. It answers the most brutal of questions: are you ready?