Silver Page 2

  But he must have already been typing because, halfway through her message, another one came in. She sent hers and then opened the next text.

  I remember you liked mine better.

  Fuck off! I have no interest in your dick or otherwise after you slept with Madison!

  And you were sleeping with Marshall.

  Not true. She hadn’t started sleeping with Marshall until they began dating in the middle of last semester. But, even though she had been sleeping with Pace last semester, she hadn’t double-dipped. It just so happened…that she hadn’t told Pace that. Or told Marshall that she’d fucked Pace. Some things were best left unsaid.

  I can’t deal with you right now.

  That’s just us, Pink.

  Stacia flopped back onto the bed and closed her eyes.

  Pink.

  Fuck, she hadn’t heard that in such a long time. Pace had given her that goddamn nickname all those years ago. The first time they’d officially met freshman year, she had been dressed in a hot-pink tube dress, despite the frigid temperature. He’d said it was adorable and brushed the tip of her nose like she was just the cutest thing he had ever seen. He’d called her Pink all night before she’d finally given him her name. And then she’d realized that he was Bryna’s stepbrother and totally, one hundred percent off-limits.

  Don’t call me that.

  Don’t tell me that I still affect you. I’m sure you’ll forget all about my little nickname for you when you’re giving some good head tonight. I’ll think about you while I get some, too.

  Stacia ground her teeth together and tossed her phone aside. Prick.

  Why?

  Why had she answered his text messages? Now, she was pissed and wanted to throttle him. And she was horny. She hated that he was the best lay she had ever had. Hated it. Why couldn’t it have been someone who was less of a total asshole? Why couldn’t it have been Marshall? Maybe she could have put aside the other things if Marshall were phenomenal in bed. And he wasn’t bad, but once you’d had the best, it was hard not to compare.

  Stacia hopped off the bed in frustration—sexual and otherwise—and headed to the shower. She needed to masturbate to clear her head and then get her thoughts in order, so she could figure out what in the actual fuck she was going to say to Marshall later.

  By the time she had finished getting ready in a Trihn original dress, Marshall was collecting her for dinner. She slid into her Manolos and hurried after him to the elevator and then the waiting limo. It was a short drive to the luxurious steak house, and she was stuffed in a seat between Marshall and one of the team owners or managers. She never figured out which since they talked over her the entire night.

  Apparently, Marshall had been completely serious about her being arm candy for the evening. So, she ate her dinner and remained silent.

  Marshall didn’t seem to notice her unease on the drive back to the hotel. Whatever mood he’d thought she was in when he was waiting to get drafted had dissipated with his euphoria. He was practically whistling to himself in the car.

  Stacia just chewed on her lip and watched Michigan Avenue disappear around the corner. The limo dropped them off in front of the hotel, and they walked through the historic hotel lobby before taking the elevator up to the suite.

  Before the door was even fully closed, Marshall was on her. He grabbed her around the middle and crushed his lips down on hers.

  “Oh, babe,” he growled against her lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this all afternoon.”

  “Marshall,” she squeaked.

  Fuck. She needed to talk to him. She hadn’t wanted to do this right after the draft. She wanted him to be happy and to celebrate this with him. She had figured she could just pretend with him for another day or two. The last thing she wanted was to ruin this big day for him. He was supposed to come back to campus to finish finals, and she’d planned to say something then.

  But she hadn’t factored in that he would want to have sex with her. Of course she had known he would want to. What guy wouldn’t? Especially on a day like today? Normally, she would be a hundred percent on board, but after her revelation this afternoon, the thought of having sex with him made her nauseated. It made her feel…cheap.

  She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge.

  “Want to get inside you,” he muttered. “Need my prize pussy for getting drafted.”

  “Prize?” she nearly gasped out as he walked her backward toward the bed.

  “Fuck yeah, you’re my prize. Going to enjoy my present, too.”

  “Marshall, stop,” she said. “Stop.”

  “Feisty tonight,” he said, completely ignoring her comments. Grabbing her by the back of the legs, he hoisted her into the air.

  “Marshall! Put me down!”

  He laughed and tossed her back on the bed, as if she weighed nothing. She bounced once before landing in a heap on the downy mattress. Marshall crawled onto the bed after her, covering her tiny five-foot frame with his towering six-foot-four body. She squirmed to try to get out from under him, but it was no use. He had her pinned in seconds.

  His broad grin made her nervous. She hated what she was about to do—that she was going to have to hurt him. This was her fault to begin with. But she couldn’t go on pretending.

  He trailed his fingers down the side of her face and over her collarbone, edging lower, when she finally found her voice.

  “I don’t want to have sex with you.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said without skipping a beat. He just let his lips trail kisses where his fingers had just been.

  She grabbed his hand before it reached the hem of her dress and tried to keep him from prying it up. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

  He looked up at her from where he had last laid a kiss on her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “You always want to have sex. Since when do you not want to have sex?”

  “Since today,” she said.

  She tried to scoot up out from under him, but his lower half weighed her down, so she couldn’t move.

  “It’s the best day of my life, Stacia. We’re having sex,” he told her more forcefully.

  She shook her head, and a small tear leaked out of her right eye. She closed her eyes against the traitorous tear, sighing heavily. “I want to break up.”

  That got him off her.

  He jumped back, as if he’d just been tackled. As if she’d just doused him with burning oil. She opened her eyes to see the shock on his face. He looked beyond stunned. She was sure that he never thought he would hear that from her. Not after he’d just been drafted.

  Truly, she wished she could have spared him this moment. She wished he had just listened and waited to have sex with her, and then she could have done this when it wouldn’t have caused him so much grief. But he hadn’t taken no for an answer. She hadn’t been able to figure out another option.

  “Why?” he asked, flabbergasted.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered, closing her eyes again.

  “You don’t know? What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I don’t know!” she cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to go this way. I just don’t want…this,” she finished lamely.

  “What is this?” he demanded. “Me? The NFL? You don’t want to be a quarterback’s wife?” He launched off the bed and paced furiously. She sputtered, but he cut her off, “Don’t even bother answering that. We both know this is exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

  “Marshall,” she warbled. She straightened out her dress and slid off the bed. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? Sorry for what, Stacia?”

  “I don’t know. For hurting you.”

  He shook his head and looked away from her. “I can’t fucking believe this. This is what you’ve wanted from day one.”

  “I know. I can’t explain it.”

  “Well, fucking try! This is what you’ve schemed and plotted for!” he yelled at her.

  She raised her eyebrows.
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  “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’m not stupid. I’ve heard the rumors. I knew what you were after.”

  She wasn’t surprised that he knew. Everyone knew. She was surprised that he was bringing it up now. As if it was somehow justification for them to stay together. Shouldn’t it be the opposite?

  “Why would you even want to be with someone who had schemed to be with you?” she managed to get out.

  “Because I care about you Stacia. The scheming didn’t bother me if the end result was you and me together,” he admitted.

  She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m just…not happy.”

  “How can you not be happy. I gave you everything.”

  “I don’t know. I wish I had a better explanation. This was what I was after,” she admitted, “but it’s not what I want anymore.”

  “You’re ruining draft day,” he accused.

  “I know.”

  “You can’t go.”

  “I have to,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  Marshall took a step backward. Six foot four, two hundred twenty-five pounds of solid muscle, a god on LV State’s campus, and a soon-to-be NFL quarterback. And she had made him stumble.

  “Stacia,” he pleaded, suddenly realizing she was serious.

  “Please don’t. Don’t do that,” she told him.

  She didn’t want him to beg her. It had been easier when he was yelling at her, telling her she was a schemer. Him pleading with her would make this impossible.

  Marshall looked stricken before he turned and walked out of the hotel room, slamming the door shut behind him. The door shook in the frame, quivering and trembling with the ferocity of Marshall’s anger.

  Stacia remained standing, shaking. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. It was the right thing. She knew it was. Maybe not the best timing, but she couldn’t continue to live a lie.

  It didn’t make it easier. Facing Marshall had been like standing in a hurricane and hoping for the best.

  With a resigned sigh, she packed up her suitcase, determined to be gone before Marshall reappeared. She had been strong once. She didn’t want to test her willpower to stand up to him a second time.

  As she left the hotel room with her suitcase in tow, she frowned back at the closed door and then exited Marshall’s life forever.

  STACIA LANDED BACK IN LAS VEGAS at an ungodly early hour and took a cab back to her apartment near the university. She hauled her suitcase onto the elevator and up to the top floor and then wheeled it down the hall. Her exhaustion kept creeping in, and she managed to miss the lock three times with her key before getting it in the slot and opening the door.

  When she entered, she stopped in her tracks, staring around at her apartment in shock. Three days ago, the apartment that she shared with Bryna and Trihn had been spotless with everything put away in its proper place and nothing out of order. They had a maid service after all. Somehow, in the span of those three days, it had turned into a war zone. Boxes were piled up with no rhyme or reason, and clothes were scattered everywhere.

  “What the hell?” Stacia asked, eyes wide.

  “S!” Trihn cried. She appeared in the living room with a bright smile on her face.

  She was, of the three of them, the biggest morning person. If you disturbed Bryna before noon, you should expect a mouthful, but Trihn enjoyed her mornings, like a total freak of nature.

  “Hey,” Stacia said. She deposited her suitcase next to the door since it didn’t seem to matter where anything went at the moment, and then she came to stand by Trihn. “What’s going on?”

  Trihn picked up a half-full box and dropped it on top of another one. Her long brown-to-blonde ombre swished in her ponytail, and her green eyes lit up. “Oh! I just started packing.”

  “Packing?”

  “Yeah. Bryna insisted that she’d hire someone before hurting her manicure, but I figured I’d do it the old-fashioned way.”

  “But why?” Stacia asked, unable to keep up.

  “Because it just felt silly to hire someone. I mean, I can pack. I don’t have that much stuff. Mostly clothes and my sewing machine and, you know, the really important stuff,” Trihn rattled on. “Plus, I mean…how much space am I really going to have in Damon’s apartment? It’s a one-bedroom. It’s pretty small.”

  A lightbulb went off in Stacia’s head. It must have been the early hour or the red-eye or what had happened with Marshall the previous night, but it had completely slipped her mind that her best friends were moving out. They had all assumed that Stacia would quit school and move to wherever Marshall ended up once he was drafted. So, Bryna had agreed to move in with her boyfriend and assistant football coach, Eric Wilkins, while Trihn had agreed to move in with her boyfriend and resident DJ/rock star, Damon Stone.

  It all should have worked out for the trifecta of best friends paired with a hottie coach, mega rock star, and NFL quarterback. But, now, things weren’t going as planned, and she hadn’t even considered what she was going to do next year or where she was going to live.

  “What the hell is going on out here?” Bryna called from the hallway. She appeared a minute later in some kind of barely there negligee. Her blonde hair was just-sex mussed, and she looked as stunning as ever.

  “Oh no, we’ve awoken the beast,” Trihn whispered.

  Stacia snort-laughed.

  Then, in a more normal tone, Trihn said, “Morning, Bri. It’s a little early for you.”

  “No one can sleep with you out here, slamming boxes around and talking at the top of your lungs.” Bryna leaned against the side of the couch and then slipped forward into a lying position. She looked like a Greek goddess without even trying.

  Stacia wished her appearance were so effortless. She’d need a pound of makeup and a full blowout before she could achieve Bryna’s I-woke-up-like-this appearance.

  It didn’t help matters that Trihn had once been a model for Gucci and a ballerina for a prestigious dance company in New York. Frankly, Stacia felt short and fat next to her two best friends. Thankfully, it was a thought they knew nothing about.

  “Stacia just got back. She was asking about packing, which is something you should be doing, Bri,” Trihn told her.

  “No,” Bryna said point-blank. “I’ll leave it to the peons.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” Trihn said.

  Bryna shrugged and closed her eyes. “Someone else will move my stuff into Eric’s house. I’m not going to worry about it. It’ll all be done by next weekend anyway.”

  “So soon?” Stacia squeaked. “The lease doesn’t end for a few more weeks.”

  “I want it over with,” Bryna said.

  “Plus, you’ll be moving in with Marshall anyway!” Trihn cried. “Oh my God, we saw you on TV. Damon and I doubled with E and Bri to watch the draft. You looked so fucking hot on TV. You were definitely the hottest girlfriend.”

  “Definitely,” Bryna agreed drowsily. She already seemed to be falling back asleep.

  “Where is Marshall moving to again?” Trihn asked.

  Of the three of them, Trihn was the least invested in football even though she would come to nearly all the games.

  “Buffalo,” Stacia and Bryna said together.

  “Right,” Trihn said. “Buffalo. Upstate New York is freezing. You’re going to need a whole new wardrobe.”

  “Oh, here we go,” Bryna said.

  “I can make you one! Let me design your winter wear! I’ve never done that.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Stacia said absentmindedly.

  “Seriously, we are so excited for you,” Trihn said.

  Bryna propped herself up onto her elbows. “We are. It’s so awesome. It’s everything you’ve wanted. We all got everything we wanted. It’s like a Hallmark movie,” she said and then gagged.

  “So, tell us everything!” Trihn said, ignoring Bryna. “She’s just grumpy. She wants to hear about the draft, too.”

  Trihn sank down on the couch next to Bryna, and they both expectantly sta
red up at Stacia. They were probably thinking she would turn into the bubbly, buoyant, ridiculous friend they had always known. But she just didn’t have it in her today.

  “It was fine,” she said. “Nothing really to say.”

  Their faces dropped. Bryna’s eyes narrowed. Trihn looked concerned.

  “What do you mean?” Trihn asked.

  “Yeah. How could there be nothing to say?” Bryna asked.

  “I mean…you guys watched it. You saw what happened. Nothing really to say.”

  “Are you okay?” Bryna said.

  “You know…I met Jude though.”

  A wall dropped over Bryna’s features, and she searched for nonchalance. “Really? Was he a total douche?”

  “Yeah. He called me sweetheart and said I should be happy that my boyfriend was about to be worth millions.”

  Bryna grimaced. “Sounds just fucking like him.”

  “I called him a liar to his face, but I don’t think he realized that I knew you. Or if he did, then he didn’t show it.”

  “He wouldn’t. Prick.” Bryna’s anger seemed to wake her up. “I bet, if you’d been alone, he would have hit on you.”

  Stacia shrugged. “All he did was glare and smirk at me.”

  “Fucking asshole.”

  Stacia was glad that she had her friends thoroughly distracted. The truth was…she wasn’t ready to tell them that she had broken up with Marshall. What would they say anyway? Nothing that would help right now.

  Plus, they were already packing. They had agreed that they were going to move in with their boyfriends. She didn’t want them to feel bad that they would be leaving her behind or, worse, change their minds and stay in the apartment for her. They deserved their happiness. They’d both earned it.

  No, she would wait a little while longer before divulging the details. Maybe next week after they had already moved out and were settled in with Eric and Damon. Marshall wouldn’t even be back until later this week, and she doubted he was going to tell people that they had broken up. Not after what a catastrophe it had been.

  “So…nothing else to tell?” Trihn asked with concerned round eyes.

  “You know, I’m actually super exhausted. I had to catch a red-eye and all…” Stacia trailed off.