Silver Page 4

  “What’s going on?” Trihn asked. “Why the fuck is he here with someone else?”

  Stacia threw her hands up. There was no deflecting now. No hair toss or quirky comment would get her away from being the center of attention.

  “I broke up with Marshall,” she said.

  “You…what?” Trihn asked.

  “But why?” Bryna asked.

  “If you girls figure it all out, I’d love the answer to that, too,” Marshall said tauntingly. “In the meantime, I’m going to go enjoy my friend here.”

  Then, he strode away with the girl at his side, who hadn’t uttered a single word through the whole confrontation. Either she was too far out of it to care, or it didn’t matter what Marshall said or did; she’d be at his side regardless. Stacia had been like her before. Seeing the empty look in the girl’s eyes made her shudder.

  Was I really that empty-headed?

  Bryna and Trihn just stared at Stacia. She grabbed them both by the arms and hauled them out of the center of the dance floor where everything had just gone down. It had been a long time since she felt so embarrassed, and she didn’t want the rest of the conversation to be for public consumption. Maya hurried off with them, and they exited the club to the outside pool area.

  Bryna yanked her arm out of Stacia’s grip. “When were you going to tell us about Marshall? We knew something was wrong, S.”

  “What she means is,” Trihn began, shooting a glare at Bryna, “are you okay?”

  Stacia sighed heavily and tilted her head back to stare up at the spattering of stars high above them. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” Bryna said. “And, anyway, why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I don’t know,” Stacia said softly before looking back at her friends. “I don’t know, okay? I really don’t have answers to any of this stuff. I broke up with Marshall because I wasn’t happy. I didn’t tell you guys because I wanted you to be happy.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Trihn asked.

  “I didn’t want to stop either of you from moving in with your boyfriends,” Stacia finally admitted.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Bryna cried.

  “Yeah. You shouldn’t have tried to shield us when you’re hurting,” Trihn said.

  “And we would never have left you all alone. I’ll call the movers in the morning,” Bryna said. “I’ll be back in the apartment by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “No!” Stacia cried.

  “It’s a done deal. You aren’t going to live alone,” Bryna told her. “So, I’m taking care of it.”

  “Bri,” Trihn muttered, fingering her hair and looking between her friends, “she’s seriously distressed about this. Let’s not make any rash decisions.”

  “I’m not living with you next year,” Stacia told them. “You’ve already moved out.”

  “Well, where are you going to live?” Maya asked. “I think it’s nice that you’re thinking of your friends when you’re distraught, but are you sure this is best for you?”

  Stacia chewed on her bottom lip and then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should all just…continue with your lives.”

  “You make it seem like you’re not a part of our lives,” Trihn pointed out.

  “It’s not that. I just…have to figure out my own life. You all have everything figured out. I guess it’s my turn,” Stacia whispered.

  “Look, I’m not convinced that we should have moved out,” Bryna said. “What’s another year with all of us girls together? Eric will understand when I explain…and probably bash Marshall’s brain in.”

  “Marshall really didn’t do anything,” Stacia muttered.

  “By showing up here with that slut?” Bryna snapped. “Oh, he definitely did. He wanted to hurt you, and he wanted it to be public. Even if you were the one doing the breaking up, I don’t forgive him.”

  “And we all know you’re prone to grudges,” Trihn said.

  “Damn right. Some people should never be forgiven for past transgressions.”

  “Just you?” Maya asked, raising an eyebrow.

  Bryna shrugged a shoulder. “Not always. Good thing you love me.”

  Stacia straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. Time to confront her friends. This was definitely way out of her territory, and she tried not to show fear. “You’re not moving back in. You’ve already moved in with your boyfriends. I’ll find another place. It’s not a big deal. We’ll still see each other just as much as before since you were both practically living at their houses anyway. So, stop talking about it like the idea is on the table. I’ll figure my own shit out.”

  All three girls stared at Stacia for a second, as if they’d never seen her before. The only time she was this forceful was at cheer, and that was because nothing would get done otherwise. After spending years trying to blend into the shadows, it was hard to find the will to stand up to people. Perhaps things really were changing.

  “All right then,” Trihn said. “Sounds settled.”

  Bryna frowned and then checked her manicure. “Fine.”

  Maya shrugged. “I guess that means drinks to our newly single cheer slut,” she said with levity. “God help all those poor boys.”

  Stacia was relieved when the girls gave up on trying to convince her to change her mind. She wasn’t about to do that. She would figure something else out for next year.

  They wandered back inside, and Maya ushered them to the bar where she motioned over Tuck and ordered shots for the group. Stacia’s eyes roamed the bar. It seemed that most everyone had gone back to what they were doing, but she noticed a few of the other cheerleaders were eyeing her closely. Stacia quickly moved over them and then spotted the other person still staring at her.

  She groaned and looked away from Pace. She had no clue what he was thinking right about now, but it couldn’t be good. That hadn’t been how she wanted Pace to find out that she and Marshall weren’t together. Not right after he’d cornered her and claimed she still belonged to him. Well, she had no plans to get back together with him just because she was single. He might make her panties wet, but he was still a total asshole. Her relationship status didn’t change that fact.

  “To the cheer slut’s new life,” Maya said, raising her shot glass.

  Stacia rolled her eyes. “Oh my God, Maya, it’s not that serious.”

  “Nothing ever is with you, honey.”

  “Right.”

  That was how everyone saw her because that was how she’d wanted to be seen. Even her friends only knew her as the dumb cheer slut. Play a part long enough, and one day, you might not have another identity.

  Trihn nudged her, and Stacia remembered to raise her shot glass. The alcohol burned all the way down, and Stacia welcomed it. Soon, the burn would fade and leave her numb…like the rest of her life.

  “Woo! I’m going to need another one of those,” she cried, tossing her head back and letting her platinum-blonde hair brush down past her shoulders.

  “Tuck will hook you up all night,” Maya told her.

  “But go easy,” Trihn warned.

  “Oh, lay off her,” Bryna said, grabbing Stacia’s hand. “She just went through a breakup. The last thing she needs is to go easy and mope. She needs to get out there and dance and have a good time.”

  “Bri,” Trihn warned.

  “Yeah, lay off,” Stacia said with her normal giddy smile. “I’m just having fun.”

  Trihn looked between her two best friends, and it was clear that she didn’t approve. But Stacia didn’t give her time to say anything else; she just grabbed Trihn’s hand and dragged her onto the dance floor. Their bodies moved in tempo to the beats blasting through the speakers, and finally, after a few songs, she could feel her friends let loose and stop worrying about her.

  Stacia was glad that they weren’t stressing. That was what she wanted. But it surprised her how quickly it had happened. They were so used to not worrying about her that it’d hardly taken any convincing at a
ll to just let it go.

  After a few more drinks and a few more songs, she forgot to be concerned by that at all. She slipped back into the silly-friend routine as easily as slipping on a new dress and her favorite pair of Manolos. Life could wait until tomorrow or the next day after that. Tonight, she was young and single and with her three very best friends. Reality could hit her at another time.

  “Oh no,” Bryna grumbled while they were dancing.

  “What?” Stacia swung around to see what Bryna was looking at and then said, “Oh.”

  “Don’t worry; I’ll deal with him,” Bryna said, taking a step toward Pace.

  Out of nowhere, he had appeared on the crowded dance floor. Stacia had thought that she would have a pass from his arrogance for the night but apparently not.

  “Hey, sis,” Pace said with a grin that made Bryna bristle.

  “Why am I not surprised that the vultures are already circling?” Bryna spat at him.

  “Are you calling yourself dead meat?” he asked cheekily.

  Bryna rolled her eyes. “Don’t even with me. Plus, we both know that you’re here for Stacia—unless we’ve suddenly gone back in time three years. And, dear God, tell me you haven’t reverted to being my perverted stepbrother.”

  “I doubt God’s listening to you, Bri,” Pace said, using the nickname Bryna hated to hear from Pace.

  She claimed it was only reserved for friends, and since Pace was her stepbrother and he irritated the shit out of her most of the time, it was off-limits. Like everything else Stacia had done with Pace.

  “Hey,” Stacia interrupted. If she left the two alone, they would be at each other’s throats all night. “Just leave it be tonight.”

  Bryna pointed her finger in Pace’s face and said, “Yeah, leave her be.”

  Pace just smirked, ignoring Bryna completely. Bryna sighed and walked away. She glanced back at Stacia, reluctant to leave her alone with Pace. Bryna might not agree with Stacia and Pace, but it had almost ruined their friendship freshman year, and it was clear to Stacia that Bryna wasn’t willing to do that again. Stacia and Bryna had come to some kind of tacit agreement about Pace.

  When Stacia looked up into Pace’s handsome face, the alcohol seemed to drain out of her. She didn’t want to deal with this right now. Now that he knew she was single, it did feel like vultures were circling. He’d done enough damage. He could go enjoy himself, for all she cared.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

  “So, you broke up with Marshall? That true or something you made up?” Pace asked.

  “Why would I make that up?” she demanded.

  “He’s saying it’s a lie, just so you know.”

  “He’s what?” Stacia asked. “God. Just…whatever. I don’t care. Mr. Big, Bad NFL Quarterback can say whatever he wants. If that makes him feel better since I dumped him on draft day, then fine.”

  Pace cracked up. “You dumped him on draft day? Like, when you were texting me?”

  “No, after. And don’t remind me that I actually entertained your text messages.”

  Pace scooted forward and put a possessive hand on her hip. She slapped him away and took a step back.

  “Stop it. I’m in no mood for your games. You know what? I don’t think I’ll ever be up for your games. I’m tired of this on- and off-again, back-and-forth tug-of-war,” she snapped. “I’m tired and burned out, and I’m over it. Go bother someone else.”

  “Games? I’ve never played games with you, Pink,” he said, walking back into her personal space.

  “You are right now. I have more important things to think about than whatever is going on in your pea-sized brain!”

  “Like what?” Pace asked.

  He ignored the jab and threaded his fingers through her hair. That was when she realized she’d had a lot more to drink than she’d thought, and she really was drunk. Whatever alcohol she’d thought had burned off seemed to crash back down on her at his touch.

  She wobbled in place, caught in his warm blue gaze. “Like…like…lots of things. Like…finding a place to live next year.”

  As if he hadn’t heard a word she had said, he dropped his lips down onto hers. The kiss was featherlight and brief but left her gasping and reeling.

  “What the—”

  “You’ll figure it out. In the meantime, just wanted to remind you who you belong to. Don’t forget it.” Then, he turned and walked away from her.

  Her mouth was still ajar as he disappeared from her sight.

  That man was insufferable. And, as much as she hated everything he had done to her and the feelings he’d conjured, she still had that prickle of joy from him chasing her. After all this time, he wanted her. Even if he only wanted her on his terms.

  While the chase was fun, he was going to find out that he could chase all he wanted, but she wasn’t going to give in to him. In the end, all he would bring was pain and heartache, and she had a life to get back under control. She didn’t have time to be jerked around by anyone…no matter how big his dick was or how well he used it.

  WAKING UP ALONE to an empty apartment sucked.

  On day one, Stacia decided that she didn’t like it. She had never lived alone her entire life, and she wasn’t the type of person to be comfortable with her own company. And she was so antsy the next morning, even with her hangover, that she had to leave the house and go to the gym to let off some steam.

  She had been weight training since high school to help with cheer, and the sports complex gave her access to the weight room as well as the gymnastics tumbling floors. Neither was a great option with a headache, but it was better than sitting around at home when school was out.

  After her meeting with her advisor and the meeting she wasn’t looking forward to with the head cheerleading coach, then she could go home. She didn’t know what she was going to tell her dad about the roommate situation or Marshall. He hated that she preferred dating football players, as if he could have expected anything else, considering he had been an NFL quarterback and had raised her around football players her whole life. But he hadn’t actively disliked Marshall, so it was going to be an interesting conversation, to say the least.

  She was more excited to see her brother, Derek, and get in some quality time with him before he would have to be back at the USC for football practice. She had always been close with her brother. In fact, all his high school friends had more or less adopted her into their group even though he was two years younger than her.

  The weekend zipped by in the gym, and soon, she was walking into her advisement appointment Monday morning. She had dressed professionally in black pants and a button-up. She hadn’t known what she should wear for this, but considering how things had gone down the last time she met with her advisor, she’d figured anything would help.

  Stacia knocked on the door.

  “Miss Palmer?” the advisor, Mrs. Hutchinson, said.

  “Yes. Hello,” she said, walking into the office.

  “Please, take a seat. I’m surprised to find you made another appointment,” Mrs. Hutchinson said.

  “Yes, well, I’ve had a bit of a change of plans.”

  “All right.” She crossed her hands over one another on top of her desk. “What kind of change of plans?”

  “Well, I’m coming back to school for my senior year. I’d like to graduate.”

  “I see!” Mrs. Hutchinson said enthusiastically. “That is a change of plans.”

  What Mrs. Hutchinson was tiptoeing around was the fact that Stacia had practically stormed out of the room the last time she was there after Mrs. Hutchinson had derided her for having no motivation and just passing by. She had never been an excellent student, but her grades had suffered due to her social life and cheer, and she hadn’t cared. She had ignored everything Mrs. Hutchinson had said and just figured that the woman didn’t understand her own motivations. Well, turned out, Stacia was wrong.

  “I’m glad to hear this. Now, let me get your file up, s
o we can think about classes for the fall semester.” Mrs. Hutchinson typed away at her computer and then smiled back at Stacia. “It looks like you need forty-eight more credit hours—or roughly sixteen more classes to graduate since cheerleading counts toward physical education credits. I think, at this time, it would be impossible to finish out your degree in a year, but you could easily do it in two.”

  Stacia stared at her, slack-jawed. “You want me to be a fifth-year senior?”

  Mrs. Hutchinson shrewdly assessed her. “You took the minimum twelve hours each semester for the three years you have been here. Unfortunately, you have guaranteed that you would have to be a fifth-year senior to graduate—unless you want to take extensive summer classes this year and next.”

  Then, Mrs. Hutchinson started mapping out all the ways that Stacia could avoid staying an extra year, but the options required a lot of math to figure out how she would graduate, and she had no guarantee that she would even do well in the classes with cheer demanding so much of her time.

  “No, I don’t want to do that,” Stacia interrupted her. “I didn’t realize I was so behind.”

  “Luckily, the demands of the general studies degree you are working toward are not as rigorous. I believe that, with a little effort, you could immensely improve your grades and graduate.”

  Stacia chewed on her lip and thought about the general studies major she had picked. She had selected it because of the ease of the major, of course. But, now, she wasn’t so sure.

  “What can I even do with a general studies major?”

  Mrs. Hutchinson looked at her in astonishment, as if Stacia asking about working post-graduation was something she never thought she would encounter. “We can look through the recommended fields together, if you’d like?”

  “Actually…I have a question,” Stacia said, as if lightning had just hit her. She sat up straight as she remembered something from the draft. At least one good thing was coming out of this mess.

  “Yes?”

  “You know sideline hosts for football? Like Erin Andrews?”

  “Of course.”

  “What major would I need to do that?” Stacia asked. “I mean, I think I could be good at it. I’m pretty, I know football, and I’ve been around players and coaches my whole life. I, uh…I really think I could do that.”