Rookie Mistake (13 page)

He bites me gently. I gasp. I mewl. I claw at him, shifting my hips to meet his. I listen with delight as his breathing changes, becoming desperate and wet with his kisses that find my face again. He hasn’t kissed my lips, he’s hardly touched me, but I’m about to explode. I’ll die in a burst of flame in this icy room and I won’t be the least bit sorry.

Suddenly he pulls back, his mouth leaving my body. Leaving me cold.

He shakes his head as though he’s trying to clear it. “This isn’t why I came here,” he tells me roughly.

“I know that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.”

“I—it’s… it’s almost over, right? Once the Draft is over it won’t matter if we do this.”

I pinch my lips together, shaking my head sadly. “You just signed me as your agent. It matters now more than ever. That won’t end with the Draft. And if I can’t get you the Kodiaks, you’ll leave Los Angeles. We’ll never see each other.”

Trey flinches, his eyes dark and conflicted as they gaze down at me. I feel bad for what he sees; pleading eyes, open mouth, heaving chest. Everything about me begs him to stay, to finish this, but we both know it isn’t right. And no matter what I tell myself, one more time would never be enough.

He steps back. I take my hands from his chest. He drops his hands from my hips.

“I’m gonna go,” he tells me quietly.

I feel my heart clench, but I keep my face straight. “I think that’s a good idea.”

Trey surprises me when he steps forward, his hand light on my arm. His lips are a whisper across my mouth.

“I’m going to think about you tonight.” His words are kerosene in my veins. “And I want you to think about me.”

April 28th

Envol Charter Learjet 55/60

Somewhere Over Colorado

“This is the way to fly,” Larkin groans, stretching his legs out. Even at 6’2” his feet don’t reach the empty seat across from him.

I nod my head in agreement, looking over the cream leather seats, glossy, dark wood tables, and miles of extra leg room. Reed sits across from me, slouched in his seat with his headphones on, his eyes closed. He’s snoring. It’s only the second time I’ve traveled with him but I’m starting to think the guy can fall asleep anytime, anywhere.

Across the aisle Larkin is looking out the window. The sunlight plays over his dark skin, highlighting and shadowing his face as it darts behind clouds. He’s smiling like a kid at Christmas. Today is the first time I’ve met him, even though I’ve heard his name non-stop for months. He seems like a decent enough guy, if not a little cocky. But then again, who am I to judge? Sloane and Hollis greeted him with handshakes and smiles, but Brad hugged him like he was his long lost son. Larkin was the first one ushered onto the plane. The first to pick his seat. The first to be offered a drink by the Polynesian stewardess who made my heart clench with homesickness.

“What was the girl’s name?” Larkin whispers to me across the aisle.

“Kailani.”

“Kailani,” he repeats, trying it out. “Does it mean anything?”

I shrug. “Why would I know?”

Larkin sits back in his seat, adjusting his shirt, shifting his gold chain hanging heavy around his neck. “Hey, Kailani?” he calls.

I look over my shoulder to see her come out from the small kitchen area by the bathroom. Her long black hair is pulled over one shoulder and pinned in place by a large hibiscus, really playing up her island vibe. Larkin is obviously eating it up with a spoon.

She smiles at him, her dark eyes expectant. “Can I get you something?”

“Do you have any ginger ale?”

“I do. Would you like it in the can or in a glass?”

“A glass, yeah. No ice.”

She turns to me, her smile widening. “Anything for you?”

I put up my hand, shaking my head. “Nah, I’m good.”

“No snacks? Champagne? A beer? I have imported and domestic.”

“No, thanks.”

She gives Reed a quick glance before turning back to the kitchen. Larkin leans slightly to watch her go.

“Damn, man,” he mutters. “Do all of the girls on the island look like that?”

I hitch my thumb over my shoulder at Sloane sitting two seats behind me. “Do all of the girls on the mainland look like that?”

“Yeah, okay. Okay. She’s hot, though, right?”

“Which one?”

Larkin laughs like I told a joke. He reaches across the aisle with his fist, waiting for me to bump it. I do, if only to make him put his hand down. Kailani is coming back with his drink.

She sets the tall bubbling glass on a napkin in front of him. “Ginger ale. In a glass. No ice.” When she stands up straight she looks between the two of us. “Anything else I can get you, gentleman?”

“You could sit down,” Larkin offers, pulling his feet away from the empty seat. “Take a break.”

Her smile tightens. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I could get fired.” Her eyes fall on mine, lingering for a few seconds. Finally she laughs to herself, scratching nervously at her forehead. “I—I wasn’t going to say anything, but I think it’s such a weird coincidence, I can’t not mention it. You’re Trey Domata, right? You went to Pearl City High School?”

“I did, yeah,” I answer warily.

She puts her hand over her chest. “So did I.”

“Seriously?”

She raises her hand in oath. “I swear it. I did. Your freshman year was my senior.”

“Did we know each other?”

I really hope not, because I don’t recognize her or her name.

“Oh no, no. I would have been way too cool for a freshman,” she jokes, her laugh throaty and genuine. “And I didn’t follow football at all. I was a water polo junky.”

“Watching or playing?”

“Playing.”

“It shows,” Larkin comments with a grin.

Kailani casts him a patient, practiced smile. “That’s sweet, but it’s been a lot of years since I played.”

“You still look like an athlete.”

“Thank you.”

My eyes widen. “Wait, if you were there my freshman year than you remember the—“

She puts her hand on my shoulder excitedly. “The fire in the science room! Yes. I was on that floor when it happened.”

“Did you see it?”

Kailani suddenly assumes a blank expression, innocent and ignorant. Her hand stays on my shoulder. “See what?”

“Don’t hold out on me. You saw it didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I have so many bets out on this, but I’ve never talked to anyone who was actually there. I will give you so much money if you tell me what really happened.”

“That is not a legally binding statement,” Hollis calls from behind me.

“What the hell are you two talking about?” Larkin asks, sounding impatient.

Kailani and I stare at each other for a long moment. I wait her out, and eventually her lips curl into a cunning smile. I smile back, dying for her reply.

Finally she puts me out of my misery. “It wasn’t true.”

“No!” I cry, punching the air angrily. “Fuck!”

“It was an electrical fire,” she laughs. “The AC unit in the room blew up. There was no goat. He didn’t kick Mr. Hahn and give him that limp. He didn’t knock over a Benson burner and set the flag on fire.”

“Fuck,” I repeat, defeated.

“That rumor got so huge. I still can’t believe it.”

“It was too good to be true.”

“Hahn got that limp playing football in college.”

“It’s a tough sport,” Larkin reminds her. “Some guys aren’t built to take it.”

Kailani nods, smiling darkly down at me. “And some men are made for it.”

I smirk. “Let’s hope so. I don’t have any fall back talents.”

“I doubt that.” She turns to me, her back to Larkin for the first time since the start of our conversation. She steps in close, brushing her thigh against my shoulder. “Is this going to be your first time in Chicago?”

“Yeah.”

“If you want a tour, let me know.” She covertly drops a napkin into my lap. There’s a number scribbled on it in blue pen. “I could show you around.”

I palm the napkin. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

She smiles one last time before turning on her heel to walk away. I watch her go, feeling something inside me start to rise. My blood, my ego, my libido. I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s eager to follow her. To pull that hibiscus from her hair and feel her thick, dark tresses cold between my fingers. I haven’t gotten laid since the day in Sloane’s office and the constant push and pull between us is starting to wear on me. I was true to my word the other night. After I kissed her I went home and jerked off to the memory of her and I hope like hell she did the same to me. But it’s not enough. Nothing between us ever feels like enough. I always want more. More of her body. More of her laughter. Her attitude. Her voice. Her presence.

I settle into my seat, resting my head on the high back. I try to doze but I can’t. I’m too turned out. Amped about getting to the Draft, about finally finding my future. I’m nervous and jittery, my legs starting to shake. I need to calm down. I should listen to music. I should pace the aisle. I should talk to Sloane.

Instead I pocket Kailani’s number.

***

“Trey, can you hang back with me for a second?” Sloane asks. “I need to talk to you.”

She’s stopped walking toward the terminal exit, her small black rolling bag at her side. The rest of our group continues on without us. They don’t question what we’re doing or how long we’ll be, and suddenly I feel worried. I’m afraid Sloane’s going to say something about the stewardess, tell me it hurt her that I flirted. That she doesn’t want me to call her. I’m worried she’s going to lay some claim on me that I’m not ready for her to have because she can’t do shit with it.

I hitch my duffel bag up on my shoulder impatiently. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Sloane watches our party disappear through the security check point, leaving us alone in the terminal. When they’re gone she gives me a nervous grin. “Will you walk with me?”

“Where to?”

“Just walk with me, Trey. Please?”

I hang my head, tucking my hands in my pockets as I fall in step next to her.

Kailani’s napkin rubs coarsely against my palm. My other is wrapped snuggly in Sloane’s bandage.

Sloane leads me silently through the terminal to a busier section of the airport. Planes are arriving and departing, swarms of people walking across our paths, separating us from one another so we have to work to stay together. Every now and then she glances down at her phone, checking her messages.

I feel a tingling in my spine. A nervous energy building and branching out through my veins. My palms start to sweat, probably bleeding the ink spelling out the phone number in my pocket.

Sloane is asking me to play passenger right now. She knows I hate being a passenger.

Finally she stops in front of a gate, a huge smile on her face. She’s almost bouncing on her toes with excitement.

All I see is a crowded gate full of strangers.

“Sloane, what are we doing here? Don’t we have to get to the car—“

“Trey!”

I jerk in the direction of the voice, picking it out of the crowd. Out of any crowd anywhere in the world.

It’s my mom.

She waves excitedly over the throng of people between us. My dad is behind her, bags strapped over both of his massive shoulders, a huge grin on his face. He has a beard now. I didn’t know that. I haven’t seen them in almost a year. It’s graying at the edges the way my mom’s brown hair has started graying around her temples. She looks beautiful. They both do.

I drop my duffle next to Sloane and break through the crowd toward them. People part for me as I run to my parents, swooping them both into a crushing embrace.

They smell like our laundry detergent. My mom’s hair against my cheek is every memory of my childhood. Every joy and every sorrow, and today I feel it all at once. All together.

They’re laughing, I’m laughing.

They’re crying. I’m crying.

“This is a good surprise, then?” Mom asks shakily.

I stand up straight, tears streaming down my cheeks. My parents are blurry in my vision, underwater and indistinct. I swipe at my eyes, desperate to make them whole. Make them real.

“Good surprise,” I choke. A new rush of tears falls unstoppable from my eyes. “It’s a good surprise.”

Dad wraps his large hand around the back of my neck, pulling my forehead against his. “We’re so proud of you, Trey. We’re so proud to be here with you.”

I put my hand on his arm, squeezing tightly. “Dad,” is all I can manage.

It takes a long time for me to get my shit together. By the time we’re aware of our surroundings again we’re alone. Everyone has cleared out of the gate.

Everyone but Sloane.

I wipe my cheeks clear for the third time as I approach her slowly.

“You did this,” I accuse roughly.

She smiles softly, her eyes full of water and wonder. “I did,” she breathes. “And it was beautiful.”

My mom comes around from behind me, reaching for Sloane. “Thank you, honey.”

The hug they share is brief but fierce. My mom squeezes Sloane so hard she forces a grunt from her throat, but Sloane is laughing. She’s smiling and blushing in a way I’ve never seen before. I didn’t even know Sloane Ashford
could
blush.

My dad is gentler with his embrace but he plants a kiss on her forehead as he backs away.

Sloane blushes harder.

“Mahalo,” he rumbles in his deep tenor.

“You’re welcome. This is a big moment not only for Trey but for the family that supported him. It would be a shame for you to miss it.” Her smile falls suddenly. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and grimaces. “I’m so sorry to rush you, but they’re waiting for us out front. We have to hurry.”