Words mattered and were important. Messaging made a difference. Images set a tone and could either drive you away or pull you in, and it was clear as day that our school didn’t quite value the girls’ soccer team.
One of my marketing class’s assignments was to study signs on campus and note the purpose. Did they succeed or fail? I eyed the large, blue and orange football billboards and signs and banners. They were all dark, intense, with the players’ faces and their team motto: unfinished business. Intensity and unity and toughness shouted from the marketing.
Dean’s dumb face looked over the campus, like he knew he led the entire student body when he threw a football across the field. Oliver and Callum were around too but not as much as Luca. The giant and grumpy tight end never smiled in his photos, and it somehow worked? Like this was the guy who blocked for his teammates or caught the ball from Dean.
Our field was only two streets away from the football stadium, yet I didn’t see more than one banner with girls’ soccer. Did we bring in the same amount of money? No. But we deserved a marketing blast.
My professor had turned down my initial project idea—a marketing push for the girls’ team. With the popularity of the US Women’s team and increasing viewership, now was the time to get those young fans excited about girls’ soccer. She said it was too easy for me since I was on the team and that a future in marketing meant promoting things I wasn’t all-in on. She wanted me to push myself. Staying with soccer meant I was playing it safe.
The already familiar thud of footsteps alerted me Luca was home. It had been three days since that strange night, where he had been friendly but refused to accept that we were friends, and the momentary high had faded into confusion.
Blame it on my people-pleasing upbringing, but I hated knowing someone didn’t like me. I was a people pleaser, enjoyed being liked. Who didn’t? So, knowing there was someone who lived across the hall who just didn’t want to be friends? It bothered me like a hole in the bottom of my sock. I could ignore it for a bit, but I knew it was there, growing and being a pain.
“Is she okay? In pain? I can’t… I can be there Saturday, but I have a—”
I sat up. Luca’s voice was pained, hoarse. My door was clearly open, but he didn’t seem to notice or care that I could hear. Who was in pain? Who wasn’t okay?
He stalked into his room, shut the door, and kept talking to whoever was on the phone. I couldn’t make out the exact words, but the unease and hard syllables broke through. He’s worried.
I could pretend I didn’t listen to this. Focus on coming up with a new marketing plan to pitch to my professor. Not only did I need a theme, a purpose, but creating a proposal would take time. Lots of time. However, that excuse wasn’t enough to keep me in my room. I could rewatch all of Ted Lasso and imagine my life with Roy Kent. I could… be the better person.
Luca had helped me out Monday. I could offer to support right now as one of our hangouts. I smoothed my crew neck sweatshirt and made sure there weren’t any crumbs on my tight black shorts. My hair sat in two buns on the top of my head, the rest of it down, but why am I worrying about how I look?
Mr. we’ll never be friends shouldn’t care what I’m wearing. Nope. Not one bit.
My palms sweated as I stared at the opening in my door, eyeing his very shut bedroom that wasn’t inviting. What did I say?
Oh, hello there, are you okay? Do you need help?
I snorted. Our situation wasn’t traditional. I’d walked in on him yanking one, and he’d overheard my plans to make my ex regret ever hurting me. This tension was nothing compared to those situations, yet it felt like a lot. More personal, somehow. Butterfly wings flittered in my stomach as I tiptoed toward his door. It seemed like he’d hung up. There were no more angry sounds. My poor lip hurt from the anxious nibbling, and I exhaled. This was silly! Being nervous was ridiculous! I faced down enemies on the field without breaking a sweat and yet this boy had me anxious? Unacceptable. My mother didn’t raise me to let grumpy attractive men make me worried.
Moving my hand to knock on the door, I got about an inch away from the wood before the door flew open.
“Oh, hi, hey hello!” I jumped back, clutching my chest. My heart felt like a jackhammer against my ribs.
“Lorelei.” His jaw tightened, and his brown eyes narrowed, like he was angry at me. “What are you doing?”
“Uh, well, funny you should ask.” I let out an awkward chuckle, which wasn’t funny at all. My usual confidence disappeared around him. Instead, I became a dork, unsure of myself. It was his eyebrows. “Are you alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He crossed his thick arms and leaned against the wall. His dark brows furrowed, and there was no amount of friendly on his face. His muscles were all tensed on his arms, his dang jaw working back and forth.
He encapsulated the perfect description of the word anger.
“Our walls are thin, remember?” I tilted my head to the side, making my eyes go big.
“Your point.”
Okay, so he was doubling down on this mad situation. I mimicked his stance on my own door, eyed him up and down, and repeated my question. “Are you alright? You sounded upset on the phone.”
He huffed. “I’m not upset.”
“Monroe.” I pinched my nose, irritation dancing along my neck and making it heat. Why did I think this was a good idea? Might as well follow through. “Stop being a pain in the ass for no reason. What’s going on?”
“None of your business.” He scowled and went back into his room, blocking me out from whatever was going on in his mind. That was his prerogative, which fine. Fine by me.
But it stung a little to have him shut me out like that, like Monday hadn’t happened between us at all. Lesson learned. I’d let grumpy Monroe suffer in peace. Plus, he was rude. I went through every memory I had of him, and in ninety percent of them, he’d been like this with me. One night was a fluke, so it was foolish to think things were different. Come on, Lo. Be smarter.
My marketing plan called my attention again, and I glared at Luca’s door, flipping him off for good measure. Take that, grump face. As I turned, a creak caught my attention, and Luca returned, his face unreadable, almost like he was lost.
No frown lines, no softness, no anger. Just… blank. It made me want to do a dance or sing or be goofy just to see him smile.
He held up both hands in the air, like a shrug, before sighing. “I’m sorry, Lorelei. I shouldn’t have been upset with you. You did nothing wrong. You were making sure I was all right, which was nice of you.”
I arched a brow, my pulse spiking at the intensity on his face. An apology—either good or bad—was still an apology, and the features on my face relaxed. He didn’t exactly seem approachable or wanting to have a heartfelt convo about what made him happy or sad, so I responded with a mere “Fine.”
He ran a hand over his face, letting out a garbled groan. He parted his lips, closed them, then stared down the hallway. “It’s… I don’t talk about her a lot.”
I nodded, desperate to know who the her was in the sentence, but the uncertainty on his face was evident. He seemed at war with himself. Should he or shouldn’t he tell me? He adjusted the sleeve on his left forearm, rolling it up before he faced me again. The line disappeared between his eyebrows, and his eyes softened.
“It’s my grandma.”
I dug my toes into the ground, my muscles tensing with worry. “Is she okay?”
“Physically? Yes. She’s stable now, just unable to live alone.” A slight smile formed on his lips as he stared beyond my shoulder. “The woman’s attitude is relentless, and she’s feistier than ever. Almost a pain in the ass, actually. It’s just… the facility she lives in isn’t great.”
“What do you mean?” I tilted my head to the side.
“They are technically fine, but the place is falling apart. My grandma is tough and refuses to complain. She once broke her foot and told people it was a slight inconvenience.” He laughed, quick and short. Like a clap of thunder. “She also told me ginger ale cures every sickness, so I know she’s full of shit sometimes.”
“She sounds awesome.” A flicker of a smile danced on my lips.
“She is the best. Strongest person I know. She raised me. I—” He paused, his gaze narrowing on me. “Not a lot of people know this.”
“If you’re insinuating I’m gonna share your family shit with people, then you hang out with terrible humans. Family stuff isn’t gossip. Plus, hello? My brother is a quarterback. You don’t think I understand how shit spreads? When people find out I’m his twin, they try to use me to get to him. He hates it. I’d never do that.”
“Right. Of course. You understand it.” He sighed, his features softening. “I don’t trust easily.”
“That’s quite clear, Monroe.” I smiled. “So, back to your badass grandma, the place is falling apart?”
“Yeah. Unclean water from the faucet, missing tiles, a smoke alarm that kinda hangs. They clean it, but its old, unkempt. It’s a public place and all I can afford, so she doesn’t have much of a choice, and I hate it.”
“Wait, you’re paying for it?”
He froze, his gaze sharpening on me like he was a hunter and I was prey. A shiver went through me. I recrossed my arms, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
“That is none of your business.”
And we’re back this this again. I rubbed my temples, my temper rising.
“Okay, look, what do you think my endgame is here, bro? You helped me out Monday night, and I heard you upset because our walls are thin. You worried about me finding out an iota about you, which makes you a normal person? I can go back to thinking you’re a grump after this. Just answer me. Why are you paying for it? Those places are expensive. My grandpa is in one, and it’s a ton of money. Our parents talk about it all the time, but it’s my dad’s dad, so of course they’ll help.”
His left cheek twitched as he eyed me up and down. There… might’ve been heat in that gaze, but I couldn’t be sure. Either way, I cleared my throat and wished I wore more than loose sports shorts. They showed a lot of skin and bruises. He eventually met my face, and his tongue wet the center of his bottom lip. I swore I felt that little movement between my thighs. Which, what? Luca was hot, yes, but like, from afar. Not like I wanted that tongue on me. He was… hm, this was interesting.
“So, tell me,” I demanded, needing to move my head away from thoughts like those. I didn’t want to have Dean kill me or subject myself to heartbreak. It was a lose-lose here despite the bolt of attraction.
He ran a large hand through his hair, messing it up. “There’s no one else to do it. Just me.”
“Then she’s lucky to have you, and I’m sure she’s grateful.”
“I know she is. I just—” He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. “I wish I could do more for her, but I can’t.”
“I’m sure what you’re doing is more than enough.”
“No,” he snapped. “I’m putting her in a place that’s not top quality, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. People just don’t seem to care about the older community. Like, once people turn a certain age does society stop giving a shit? This woman raised me after my parents dropped me off at her house. She deserves the world, and the public doesn’t care about the facility. It pisses me off. Sure, they’ll donate to animal shelters, which, of fucking course that’s important, but no one sees a nursing home and goes oh, I should donate money. They assume someone has family to take care of them, but if I don’t get drafted after this year? I don’t know what I’m gonna do. She has no one else.”
“Luca,” I said, but it was too late. He went back into his room and shut the door. My heart felt heavy and sad and broken for him. That was so much responsibility for a twenty-one-year-old to live with. Dean’s biggest duty was showering and throwing a football well. He didn’t have half the emotional weight Luca did, and wow. Luca cared for his grandma, not just like he loved her but financially.
Hell, my biggest worry was earning an internship and getting over a heartbreak. Both seemed frivolous compared to Luca’s struggles.
My mind raced as I went back into my room, my potential project ideas from the brainstorm staring up at me. What if… hm. He said the public didn’t care about nursing homes…He wasn’t one to want hugs, but I could come up with something.
A way to help him out while kicking ass at my project.
