Broken Play by Tracey Ward

Author:Tracey Ward [Ward, Tracey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-02T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

MILA

I decide not to text Tyus before I head to his house. I want to surprise him with the jersey I’m wearing. It’s powerfully yellow with his name and number on the back. I wore it all day and Daddy definitely noticed. He frowned when he saw me at the stadium in it but he didn’t say anything. I think he’s taking it as an act of defiance, nothing else. He told me not to talk to Anthony and now here I am wearing his jersey with pride. My extensive track record says this is a button I’m pushing with him, but in reality it’s a button I’m trying to push on Tyus. Part of me wants him to be turned on by it but a bigger part wants him to be proud. I’m excited to see his smile and hear that low rumble of laughter in his chest when I do something stupid that amuses him. I like that I do that to him – make him laugh. It feels like a super power, one I never knew I had until now. I never want to stop using it.

When I pull up to his place to ring the buzzer I’m surprised that I don’t see his car through the big, black gate. It was in the driveway last night but today there’s a silver Mercedes in its place, one that looks vaguely familiar. It doesn’t dawn on me whose it is until I hear her voice ring through the intercom.

“Come on in, Mila,” Sloane says casually. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Door’s unlocked.”

The motor in the gate starts to whir about the same time my blood begins to hum in my ears. They sound the same but the wider the gate gets, the louder the hum. It’s building and building, bursting in my ears like a thousand crickets on a summer night.

I should leave. I should go before this gets bigger than it is, but then again how will that look? Guilty, that’s for sure. I know enough about getting caught to know that you never admit what you did was wrong, and running will make this look very, very wrong. Probably worse than it actually is, so the best bet I have for both Tyus and my sake is to keep moving forward like I don’t get what the big deal is. And, really, I don’t. We haven’t had sex. We’ve made out a couple times, but that’s it. I’m solid. I’m straight. I’ve got this.

I slide out of my car like I don’t have a care in the world. Like I’ve been here a million times and it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. The door is open like Sloane promised. I saunter into the big, marble foyer with a spiraling central staircase, and I don’t miss a beat. On instinct, I go to the left to find the kitchen. I get lucky that it’s there. So is Sloane. She’s standing tall, blond, and striking in the almost all white space, a long sweater hiding her slender body in its comfy, blue bulk.

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