The Shameless Hour: A Sports Romance (The Ivy Years Book 4)
: Chapter 15

SOCCER PRACTICE WAS brutal that afternoon.

Coach ran us like greyhounds. And just before practice there’d been a little cloudburst, so the grass was damp and slippery. My knees were screaming by the time it was done, exhausted by the constant stop-start torque required to change direction as I dribbled the ball.

By the time the whistle blew, it was too dark to see the ball.

Bickley clapped a hand on my sweaty shoulder as we walked into the locker room. “What a lovely little stroll we’ve had this afternoon,” he said. “I feel so refreshed.”

“Coach was in a mood, wasn’t he?”

“That he was.”

My roommate and I went straight to dinner after showering, just barely making it into the Beaumont dining hall before closing time. When we got back to our room, Bickley threw himself on the sofa. But I gathered my Urban Studies stuff and headed for our door again.

“Where are you headed?” my roommate asked.

“Uh, upstairs. Bella and I are paired up on a project.”

“Reeeally.” He grinned. “That could be just what you require. She’s quite the slapper, I’ve heard.”

My blood pressure kicked up several notches on Bella’s behalf. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Bickley spread his hands. “It’s a shame that she prefers hockey players, though. Maybe she’d make an exception for a soccer player. It’s a similar enough game — we’re all trying to get the round thing into the goal. Maybe she’ll let you put your round thing into her goal.”

“Shut your mouth,” I growled, walking out and letting the door slam. If I’d stood there a minute longer, I can’t say what I would have done to him.

Fucking Bickley.

I headed upstairs and knocked on Bella’s door. I was more than a little surprised to hear her say “come in.” Pushing the door open, I saw Bella on the bed. She looked a hell of a lot better than when I’d walked in here a few hours ago. Wearing clean clothes and a slick of lip gloss, she looked more like the Bella that I used to see. “Hey,” she said, her eyes flickering up into mine.

“Hey yourself.”

“I just need to tell you something quickly, and then I never want to speak of it again.”

“Um, okay?” I chuckled.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and braced her elbows on her knees. “The reason I went into that frat house last Saturday night was that I needed to tell one of the guys something.” Bella took a sudden interest in her fingernails. “My doctor told me that I’d caught an, um, infection. Not a serious one. But contagious.” She looked up to meet my eyes for a fractional second. “I got it within a short time frame, though. So that means I didn’t have it when we, uh…” She crossed her arms.

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

Bella opened her mouth and then closed it again, as if she hadn’t expected me to say that. “I’m just telling you because you might hear all sorts of shit about me. But you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I understand.”

She clapped her hands. “Moving on. Now let’s talk about West 165th Street.”

I opened my notebook and sifted through the pages. My brain was still trying to catch up with what she’d just said — and what she hadn’t. If Bella had walked into that house on fraternity row to deliver some very unpleasant news, she sure stayed there a while. It was after seven in the morning when I’d seen her stumbling out.

With insults inked all over her body.

What the hell happened during all that time? It didn’t take nine hours to tell a guy that kind of news.

Bella misinterpreted my silence. “I’m sure you’re clean.”

“I wasn’t worried, Bella.”

Her face showed very clearly that she didn’t believe me. “Urban Studies,” she clipped.

“Yes ma’am.” I took a seat in her desk chair, which was free of debris. “I took good notes yesterday because he was talking about affordable housing. So we have to decide whether we want to use a voucher system, or whatever.”

“Okay.” She twirled a strand of her hair between her fingers.

I knew exactly how soft her hair was, and how it felt in my hands. Her happy smile was another perfectly formed memory. After everything that had happened to her, I wondered when I might see that happy smile again, and whether there was anything I could do to bring it back.

Whatever it was, I would do it.

“Vouchers are the simplest,” Bella was saying. “If we wanted to get fancy, we could do something with sweat equity. Or even better — a rent-to-own setup. How complicated do you want to make this?”

“I’m not afraid of the work,” I told her. “I really need to win this thing.”

“Why?”

“The prize.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Can’t you visit food trucks any old time? I mean, you can’t swing a pair of chopsticks without hitting one.”

“That’s not the point. I need to meet that guy in charge — the food truck guru. Our family restaurant could really rock one of those things. And I need to convince my mom that it’s a good idea. So if we win, I’d bring her as my date.”

Bella’s expression softened. “You’re like a walking chick flick.”

“Whatever. Just tell me what sweat equity is. And that other thing.”

Bella crossed her legs on the bed and began to explain. And for a little while, peace reigned in the kingdom. She looked like the old Bella, too, talking with her hands, her green eyes flashing. And I took notes so I could remember all the things she was telling me.

“Where’d you learn all of this?” I asked, scribbling furiously before I forgot what she’d said.

“I told you. Dinner table conversation. One-sided conference calls. Buildings are all my father ever talks about.”

There was a knock at the door. “Bella!” came a male voice.

Across from me, Bella flinched. She raised a finger to her lips, asking me to stay silent.

The knock persisted. “Bells, open up. Come on. I’m freaking out, here.”

With a sigh, Bella stood and crossed to the door. When she opened it, two men loomed in the doorway. When she backed away, they came inside.

The energy in the room changed in a way I did not like. The first guy in the door — a big blond guy — stared down at Bella, tension radiating off him. “Rikker said you weren’t at practice.”

Two pink spots appeared on Bella’s cheeks. She looked past her blond friend at the other guy. I recognized him — he was in about a hundred newspaper articles last year. The First Out Gay Player In Division One Hockey, etc. “You ratted me out?” Bella asked.

Rikker rolled his eyes. “We’re just worried about you, Bells.”

“That does not even begin to cover it,” the blond guy said. His jacket said GRAHAM on it. “What the hell happened? Who took that picture?”

Great. “Not the question,” I muttered, wishing he would just stand down. A minute ago, Bella had been relaxed for the first time in days. Now she sat down heavily, looking for all the world like she’d rather crawl under the bed than sit on it.

“And who are you?” Graham demanded, his attention swinging to me.

“A friend,” I said testily. “The downstairs neighbor. The guy who isn’t talking about that freaking picture.”

Graham’s glance dismissed me. He sat down on Bella’s bed right beside her, putting an arm around her. “Seriously. Who did that? And what’s with…” He picked up her arm and pushed up the sleeve of her T-shirt to expose a few inches of her wrist.

Bella yanked her arm away. “I’m fine.”

“There is nothing fine about—”

“I’m FINE!” she yelled. Her face was a bright shade of pink, and her eyes glittered.

“Come on,” he pressed. “I need to know.”

“Not true,” she clipped, turning her face away from him.

Rikker sat down on the other side of her, so Bella ended up burying her nose in his shoulder. Rikker put his palm on her cheek and pulled her close. “Bella,” he whispered, and I watched her back rise and fall as she tried to hold herself together.

“I am done with guys,” she croaked. “Men suck.”

The two guys on the bed turned in toward Bella, gathering her in their arms. “No,” Graham crooned. “Some guys are awesome. We love you.”

Bella gave her head a single shake. “I just… The whole team saw it, didn’t they?” she gasped. “I’m never going back to practice.”

Rikker made an unhappy noise. “But then the asshole wins.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yeah, you do,” Graham said, rubbing her back. “We don’t let the assholes win.”

“I just can’t…” Her back heaved. “Stand this.”

My throat got tight, and the other two men held her even closer. They murmured soothing things while Bella began to sniff.

I don’t know how long it took me to realize I was no longer needed. It was hard to just walk out of the room, but I’d done what I could, even if it did not feel like nearly enough.

When I slipped out, she did not even look up.