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“What did you do, Morgan? Is that why you stayed last night? Why you kept me busy all night?” I stand from the chair and kick the barstool back with my foot as I grab her arm and pull her to me. “Tell me what happened.”
“I really don’t know.” Morgan looks to Savannah who appears in shock. “What’s going on, Savannah?”
The innocent act. The surprised act. The fuck me while I torment you, look the other way while I stab the knife a little deeper. It’s all her. It always comes back to her. The girl who will release a video of herself just to get what she wants. She’ll stop at nothing. But this one is on me. I knew to keep her away, I knew she was up to something.
Standing toe-to-toe with her, I say, “You’re such a fucking liar, Morgan. Tell me what the hell you did this time.” I sling an arm in the air in Savannah’s direction but keep my eyes on the monster in front of me. “I knew you were playing him too. That’s all you do, fuck around with other people to make yourself feel something. You’re rotten in your soul; not even your father can love you.”
I step back, my eyes on her. She has the act down good. But she drops it. “You wanted my trust, right? Trust this. Tell him, Savannah. Tell him how I made you do it. How it’s all my fault.” She reaches and grabs her breakfast plate, slinging it at me with force. I raise my arm and dart to the side just in time for it to zip by my head. “Tell him how all the bullshit of this morning was nothing but a motherfucking lie like everything else.” Morgan clenches her fists at her sides and yells at her horrified friend, “Tell him I did this! Now!”
Savannah’s no longer sobbing, her mouth opens and closes a few times as she begins to say something until she finally admits, “She did it.”
Dumbass. Chump. Worst best friend ever. Pick one. Because I’m all of them. I fell for it. I thought I was falling for her again. But she’s the same vengeful bitch she’ll always be. “Liar, liar, you’re such a crier. And you got exactly what you wanted. Now get the fuck out of my sight.”
My search around the house gets more painful by the second, because I quickly realize that Neil isn’t here, and I wasn’t there for him when he needed me. I will find him and try to fix this, but first, I have to get the image of Morgan out of my head. I can’t believe it was all an act. It was all a lie. Just like her.
29
MORGAN
“Morgan, wait.” Savannah follows me.
“I have places to be.” I can’t get my car fast enough. Why the fuck did I even stay last night? I knew not to fall asleep with him, but more than that, I knew not to fall for his little breakfast performance.
“Why did you do that?” Savannah keeps on going as usual.
“Just playing the role he expected of me.” I halt and get in her face. “And you won’t say otherwise. Got it?”
She nods quickly, and I know she won’t out me. Satisfied with her response, I walk away, but she can’t let it drop. “Don’t you want to know why Neil’s upset with me? What actually happened?”
“No. Don’t give a shit. But good work.” I drop in my car, push the start button, and clutch the steering wheel. I have to get a grip on myself. I can’t fall apart now, not like this. I just don’t understand how he can stand there and smile while I dump water over his head—something Iactuallydid—then turn on me in a heartbeat for something he thinks I did.
I close my eyes and take a few steadying breaths.You’re looking at this the wrong way, Morgan. It’s for the best.Because whether I want to admit it to myself or not, I was starting to get a little too attached to him and his dick. When I open my eyes, I let my anger consume me. He can trust one thing—he’ll regret crossing me. I don’t know what the hell happened with Neil. But I can guarantee that I could’ve done worse with little effort.
The day gets even more dreadful when I pull into my driveway and spot Paul’s car in front of the house. One fucking day. That’s all I want. One flipping day where football, sports, and all the bullshit isn’t his focus. Obviously, it won’t be today because as soon as I step into the house, I hear the game blaring from the theater room. And since it’s closer to my bedroom than this, I know I’m in for hours of hearing Dad and Paul yell at the NAU players on the screen and armchair quarterback about how they would’ve called the uni game better.
When I reach the doorway, I look in the room to see them shouting at the players. You’d think they’d want a day off after the game too.
“Why the hell can’t they get it together?” Paul asks, his hands pull at his hair.
Dad shakes his head and watches the replay of the botched field goal. “He never makes the right calls. NAU won’t win until they get the right coach.”
Of course. He thinks everything comes down to the coach. And I’m sure they have plenty influence over the outcome, but they aren’t the ones on the field. I swear sometimes I half expect Dad to run out there and snatch the ball from some student athlete and run it in for a touchdown. Anything to relive his glory days that didn’t seem all that glorious from my viewpoint.
“Maybe the coach is too busy screwing co-eds to focus on the team.” My comment gets a quick glance from Dad before he resumes ignoring me. But it hit the right nerve with Paul. Bingo! His frustration with the game is gone, replaced by alarm that his idol is about to hear about his indiscretions off the field. Except unlike the coach on TV, Paul’s pool to pick from is mostly not legal.
Dad waves a hand at the screen when the broadcasters appear for the halftime report. “I don’t want to hear that jackass’s opinion.”
“Isn’t that jackass your old teammate? I thought it was like a blood brothers bond until the end.” Because I’ve heard him brag on the guy more than a few times when someone is around, but he’s always cussing him lower than a dog behind closed doors. “He’s got your full support and you have his… that’s what you told ESPN.”
“Not today, Morgan.” Dad doesn’t look to me as he speaks, but says to Paul, “I’ll be back. Need to grab some more drinks from the kitchen.”
I stand unmoving as Dad storms past me. Paul keeps his nervous demeanor as he gets closer. “I wanted to talk to you.” He’s speaking in a hushed tone, so this should be good. He wants to hide. Nothing stays hidden forever.
“Then talk.”
“Well, more like plead for you to not mention anything to your dad. It won’t only put me in a bad spot, but him too since he brought me on at Saint Juliet.” Paul shoves his hands in his pockets, his shoulders dropping as his head hangs down. “I just don’t want to disappoint him. He’s like a father to me.”
I prop a hand on my hip and give him puppy dog pout lips to match his pathetic demeanor. “Aw, Coach asked you to keep the boys happy too? Hope you’re better with them than the ladies I’ve had a pleasure to hear from.” I take a step toward him, lean forward, and whisper in his ear, “If not, Daddy will surely be disappointed with you.”
