Page 36

THIRTY-SIX

KIT

Was I okay?

No. I was decidedly not okay. I stood in a stranger’s multi-million-dollar mansion surrounded by rich pro football players and thought for half a second that I could somehow fit into this life. That Trent and I were…

“How much longer are we staying here?” I asked.

Trent’s face fell. “However long you want. We can take off now.”

I nodded, releasing Trent to make excuses for fleeing the party while I waited on the steps for a valet to bring his car around.

Because Trent Vogt thought nothing about valet parking his car. Or tapping his assistant to make dinner reservations. Or offloading his chores to a cadre of cleaners. His lifestyle was a million light years different from mine.

He walked out, putting on a pair of designer sunglasses, looking like a GQ model. So far away from the sweatpants and tousled hair of the car rally, I almost didn’t recognize him.

The cocoon of my apartment for the last week made me almost believe that I could keep that version of Trent Vogt, but the barbecue made it abundantly clear he didn’t really exist.

He collected his keys from the valet, who raced down the steps to open the passenger seat for me. I thanked him, wondering whether I shared more in common with the valet than Trent, and shook the thought out of my head just as fast as I slid into the passenger seat.

I was spiraling, no doubt about that, but a well-deserved spiral. Despite the rules we’d agreed on, I was falling for Trent Vogt. And that was a one-way ticket to heartbreak.

“Frankie’s going to grab a ride home with Diego,” he said with none of his usual bravado. He eyed me cautiously. “I thought that was going really well. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Your teammates seem really nice,” I said noncommittally.

“They can be a little intense,” he said, pulling out of the driveway and driving back through the high-income neighborhood I had no business hanging out in. “I hope they didn’t freak you out. They’re just excited to meet you.”

“Why?” I fiddled with the hem of my sundress and wished I hadn’t come at all.

Trent stuttered, cocking his head at me. “Because…they’ve heard a lot about you. And they followed our rally account.”

“Right,” I nodded my head, even though that didn’t answer any of the questions swirling in my head.

Did they think we were dating? What had Trent really told them about me? Who was I to him? What were we doing?

Because this felt like dating but wasn’t. And the longer I let myself fall into Trent’s world, the harder it would be to extract myself.

“Do you want to come back to my place?” He turned out of the subdivision and under more familiar surroundings, I could breathe.

I shook my head. “I should check on Derek.”

“You sure?” Trent lifted an eyebrow. “You haven’t even seen my apartment yet.”

“I’ve seen it once. Briefly.” I forced a smile as I scanned the road for something familiar. A road marker to act as a countdown to my house.

Because this had to stop. I had to stop it. Whatever had developed between Trent and me that passed beyond the bounds of friendship needed to end. And I had to be the one to do it.

“How about dinner, at least? We could grab take out from that Indian place you like. Text Derek and we’ll pick something up for him, too.”

I squeezed my phone and shook my head. “That’s okay. Why don’t you head back to the barbecue? Or go hang out with your teammates, instead? Frankie seemed like he missed you.”

Trent’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as he eyed me. “What’s going on, Kitten?”

He flipped the turn signal to turn onto my street, and I gripped the fading leather interior of the El Camino, steadying myself.

“We need to stop sleeping together.” I pushed the words out in a single breath.

“Okay.” Trent pulled into the parking lot of my apartment complex. “Sure thing.”

“Seriously. I mean it this time.” I pursed my lips. “We need a little space to make it stick.”

“Space?” He smacked the tree stick into park and rested his arm over the back of the bench seat, turning toward me. “What does that mean?”

“Maybe, just for a week or two, we only see each other at kickball.”

“I’m not going to kickball this week. I’ve got camp.”

“Right.” My pulse quickened and my stomach clenched. “So, maybe we just don’t see each other this week. Only for this week.”

He blew out a breath, his brow furrowing. “I don’t understand where this is coming from, Kitten.”

I tamped down the ball of tears rising in my throat. “We’ve spent a lot of time together. Things have gotten just a bit muddled.”

“I’m not muddled.” He dropped his hand, curling his fingers around my hair, as he reached across the seat with his other hand. “I don’t want to go a week without seeing you.”

His thumb brushed over mine, and I wanted to cave.

Instead, I pulled away. “You can text. We can still talk, Texas. Don’t make it sound so dire. I’ve got work, you’ve got football. It’s going to be like this all the time soon.”

I forced a layer of flippancy into my words. Pretending that our relationship had always been what we’d said: not serious, not forever. We were friends. Only friends.

“I mean, the football season is busy, but not that busy.” Trent’s meadow green eyes clouded, hurt creeping into his voice.

I had to get out of the car. I needed space before I took it all back. Before I gave in to Trent. Again. I squeezed his hand. “Just focus on your job this week, Texas. I’ll see you soon.”

A rusted door stymied my quick escape. I nearly toppled onto the pavement, but I escaped without Trent following.

“Thanks for letting me tag along!” I said, barely hanging on as I slammed the door behind me and nearly sprinted into my apartment building, not daring to look back.

From the lobby, I listened for the El Camino’s engine to roar to life and Trent drive away, my chest tight and my stomach in knots. As punishment for not being brave enough to tell Trent why I’d asked for a week, I climbed the four floors to my apartment, flinging myself on the couch as soon as I got inside.

“That was quick!” Derek called from the kitchen.

I buried my head in the couch, groaning.

“You okay?” He poked his head into the living room from the kitchen as I covered my head with a throw pillow.

“I’m friends with Trent,” I mumbled into the plaid fabric. “Again.”

“Yeah, I heard you two being very friendly a couple of nights ago.”

“No, not like that. We’re done. Forever. No more sleeping with Trent.”

The couch dipped as Derek sat down beside me. He pressed his palm to my back. “What happened?”

“He took me to his team's barbecue.”

“The bastard…” Derek deadpanned.

“He introduced me to all his friends.”

“Absolutely shocking.”

“He’s very handsome and rich, and he’s going to ditch me once the season starts up.”

“You don’t actually know that,” Derek said gently, the humor falling away from his voice.

“And if I let it go on much longer, it’d break me.” I winced even as Derek ran his fingers down my spine in comforting little circles. “I really like him. Like, really, really like him.”

“He’s a very likable guy.”

“And it might crush me.” My eyes misted, and I sniffed. “So, it’s better to end things now, before I get really hurt.”

“I don’t think Trent is the type to really hurt someone.”

“Not on purpose, anyway.” The tears came in earnest. “But he might do it on accident. He might not even realize it since we’re only friends.”

Derek hummed. “That might actually be true.”

“So, it’s better this way. A clean break,” I sighed. “And then, maybe, I’ll be okay with just being Trent’s friend.”