Page 35 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“I’ll bet you know all about name-calling and big heads,” she says to my dad, a big smile on her beautiful face making it impossible for him to react defensively. Mom laughs and Aunt Viola giggles. Even Dad’s new wife hides a snicker.

“We should get going,” Dad says. “I made reservations for dinner at the only decent steak place in the area, Ledge Water Steak House.” He turns to me. “You’re coming with us, right?”

“No.”

“Of course he is,” Mom says. “We’re all going.” She smiles sweetly. “It’s a family occasion. We can’t break up the family. And we certainly can’t make poor Dylan choose between his momma and daddy, can we?” She drawls sweetly but I know—and dad knows too—that there’s a cast iron will underneath it. I want to laugh and applaud my momma and at the same time shake her because what is she doing? Talking dirty laundry in front of Coach Ryan and Amanda and her family.

I’ll hardly be able to eat the steak if I’m stuck trying to be civil to Dad and his new wife, but my gut is gnawing with starvation. Taking in a deep breath, I glance around and my eyes clash with Amanda’s. She’s fucking watching me. She doesn’t look away in embarrassment because she’s ballsy and brave. Or because she just doesn’t care and is amused as shit by my dysfunctional family.

My stomach growls loud and I can’t ignore it, but the gnawing in my gut could be the unsatisfied need I feel every time I lay my eyes on her. I turn away, but feel her eyes boring into me as the location and logistics of our unappetizing dinner plans are discussed. Sliding another look in her direction, she nods.

Then she has the ultimate balls to say, “Isn’t it a coincidence, that’s the restaurant we’re going to.” Her sister snaps a look at her. The only similarity between the two of them is the matching devilish sparks in their eyes. It’s obvious she had no such plans and I’m simultaneously horrified and thrilled that she’s following me to dinner. Confused as fuck. Forget about eating a bite if she’ll be watching me from across the room. Or I’ll be watching her. And I don’t give a fuck about her so-called date. I give him a smile and look him over good.

“Sounds like a plan,” the dude says, oblivious of any undercurrents because he was busy tapping on his phone while the whole scene was going down. Taking Mom in one arm and Aunt Viola in the other, I turn away from Dad and his wife.

“See you later,” I say to Amanda under my breath.

We get to the restaurant and I don’t relish the idea of trying to eat dinner with my mom, dad, and his new fucking wife all at the same table. But at least I have Aunt Viola to help run interference with them and the possibility of surreptitious stares at Amanda to distract me. And her fucking date. I already want to throw up and we haven’t even sat down.

Dinner is tense and we end up sitting nowhere in sight of Amanda’s table, but knowing she’s here comforts me in a warped way because I’m out of my fucking mind. Aunt Viola does her thing, carrying the conversation with Dad’s new wife, who’s surprisingly funny and smart, but not as sweet as Mom by a long shot. I keep mostly to myself. My postgame hunger gets the better of me so I end up eating my steak and potatoes and half of Mom’s steak too.

When I get dropped off at BMOC House I give Mom an extra big hug before I go inside. The music from the Kappa Kappa Gamma party across the street and down two houses is loud enough to sing along with, but I’m not going there. Too drained. So I end up in my room lying in bed wide awake. Trouble pings back and forth in my head, alternating between Amanda with her admirers—the anonymous date and Coach Ryan—and Mom handling Dad’s desertion, his new wife, and her new money problems. There’s no way I’m sleeping unless I work out this tension and get out of my head. I’m about to get up and head to the basement where we have a couple of heavy bags hanging, when I hear the unruly and unmistakable sound of partiers coming up the stairs.

No big surprise when there’s a bang on my door and I’m already up to open it.

“What are you shitheads doing here? The party’s down the street,” I say. Shelby, Trey, and Dooley pile into my room. They’re not drunk but they’re definitely jazzed up on party energy, possibly some big D energy too because they look unusually happy.

“That’s right, so the bigger question is what the fuck are you doing here?” Shelby says. Not waiting for an answer, he yanks on my arm, pulling me from the bed.

“I’m beat—”

“No more than the rest of the team and they’re all at the party,” Trey says, helping Shelby shove me to my feet.

“I thought you were supposed to be the team leader—on and off the field?” Dooley says, expertly slicing into my stupid big-ass conscience.

“Okay, okay. Let me get my shoes on.”

When we get to the party we go in the back door and we’re met by the cute, but too sweet girl from the BMOC House party, and I get the feeling it’s by design. I finally find out her name is Heather when she attaches herself to my side. Managing to send signals to Shelby, it’s not hard to convince him to stay with us and take up the slack in flirting. My tension eases, if not the throbbing in my shoulder, as Heather laughs at Shel’s joking.

“You’ll have to forgive the big man here for being late. It’s hard for him to get back down to earth sometimes,” Shel says and she smiles at him, barely looking at me now. Perfect. I don’t even bother paying Shel for the dig with a mock punch to his gut.

“You’re a star too,” she says. “You ran over a hundred yards. I bet you’re going to make All American again.” I don’t know whose eyes pop more at her words, mine or Shel’s, but he recovers fast.

“Did you fall from heaven?” he says. “Did the stars just send me my own perfect angel? Sweetheart, you are too beautiful for words.” She blushes furiously and her fucking eyelashes actually flutter. I’m pretty sure it’s not an act. I think he’s too over the top and if I were Heather I’d be laughing my ass off.

But I have to hand it to Shelby. He has a way and he manages to keep her mesmerized. But I have to hand it to Shelby. He has a way and manages to keep her mesmerized. I leave them alone and go looking for a bottle of water. In the over-crowded kitchen where I have to admit is more upgraded than the one at BMOC House, I run into Emily. She towers over the clutch of girls she’s in and as soon as she sees me, she zeroes in.

“Hey, Jonesy.” I flinch at the name and want to curse Amanda because I know that’s where she got it from No one calls me Jonesy. I hate the name. It’s what my dad always called me. It’s what people always called him. He used to say like father, like son then mess my hair and say right, Jonesy? Once upon a time I lived for the attention. Now I can’t stand to be called Jonesy.

“I’m glad you made it,” she says breathless as if she had to run a mile to reach me.

“Don’t call me Jonesy,” I say automatically. Then I want to bite my bastard tongue off because she looks shocked. I push a hand through my hair and close my eyes. “I mean—I’m not a fan of the name. No one calls me that.”

“Oh? Why not?” I laugh because she’s undaunted.

“Long story. Another time.” She smiles and I realize it’s because I just implied there’d be another time. Shit.

“Maybe we can grab a beer some time,” she says.