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“It’s the dream everyone else pushed on me. Everybody expects me to play football.” I drag my fingers through my hair and tug. “I’ve been trying to tell you since summer. I don’t want to keep playing. I don’t even want to go for a sports scholarship.”

When I gather the strength to lift my eyes, the remnants of a startled expression cloud Dad’s face.

“Lucas,” he says sadly. “I didn’t realize your heart wasn’t in the game, son.”

My throat closes over with the foul taste of guilt. I look down at my lap, staring unseeingly at my fingers twisting around the drawstring on my pants.

If Dad lectures me about seeing things through and commitments, I don’t know what I’ll do. Admitting to him that his dream for me isn’t the same one I have is challenging enough. I haven’t told him what I want to study.

“I’m proud of you.”

A soft sound tears from my lungs as my attention snaps up. Dad comes around the desk to squeeze my shoulder. The build up of anxiety sputters out like a sieve at the relief those words bring.

“You’re—you are?”

“Of course. I’m proud you talked to me honestly. I always want you to follow your dreams and believe in yourself.”

I feel like I could float to the ceiling because of the weight lifted from my shoulders. All the time I’ve been worrying about the assumptions thrown at me from all sides seems silly now.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He gives my shoulder another squeeze and drops into his leather chair. He gathers his files with a thoughtful expression.

“Help me convince your mother to visit Seattle for a weekend. If you won’t be playing, she’ll be a tough cookie.” He strokes his gray stubbled chin. “It was going to be easier to frame it as a trip to visit you and cheer you on.”

My laugh echoes in the room. I’ve been anxious Dad would be weird about me having no interest in going to the same college he went to.

“That’s up to you. Just balance it with a cool date night and she’ll be down.” I scoop up my soggy cereal and head for the door. “Night, Dad. Good luck on your case stuff.”

Dad waves in acknowledgement as I slip out.

There’s a huge rush that comes with a positive outcome from a long-term worry that’s niggled at you. I can’t wipe off my stupid smile.

In my room, I abandon the cereal bowl on my desk and grab my sketchbook.

Now the only problem is I can’t make the excuse that everyone else is pressuring me to keep up with expectations.

I glance at the drawer where my application waits for me to submit it to the college of my dreams. I filled it out on a whim after spending hours virtually touring the campus and browsing the curriculum. Now that my chance to send in my portfolio is a reality, I have to decide if I want to stay in my uncomfortable comfort zone or not.

It’s up to me to dig up the courage to choose what I want to do. If I can do that, I’ll be who I am in my heart. The mask I constantly wear will fall away.

Twenty-Six

Gemma

A couple of weeks pass, leaving me lost in a swirling whirlpool of conflicting feelings.

I thought I knew who Lucas was from that first stolen kiss at his party. I thought he was a mindless jock and a spoiled asshole only interested in fucking with as many girls as possible before going off on football scholarship.

He’s proving me wrong, but can I forgive him for the tricks he’s played on me? He threatened me, kidnapped me—twice—and I let him go down on me. Even returned the favor because the illicit hotness of the moment took over, stirring a need in me so strong I couldn’t deny it.

Maybe that means there’s something messed up with me for liking it in some twisted way. His filthy words have always had a way of getting to me.

Am I prepared to go from Lucas Saint’s favorite target to jumping into bed with him? I don’t know.

After Alec picked me up from that long weekend at Lucas’ house, where we spent more time naked in his bed with our mouths on each other than dressed, I kept to myself at school to avoid Lucas. The weight of Alec’s judging gaze as we left the lake house sent the oily guilt sliding over me as I trudged to the car, Lucas’ hands glued to me.

There was no way to tell which bruises were from the night of the storm and which were from Lucas the rest of the hedonistic weekend.


Tags: Veronica Eden Sinners and Saints Romance