Sweet Fall

“Then no, you no longer terrify me. Your brother, yes, but you, no,” I said in all honesty. I never wanted to cross Axel’s path again. Austin just said his brother was lethal. I just prayed Austin had persuaded him to stop dealing on campus.

Austin stepped closer to me, and the way he was looking at me made me tremble. “Axe could be a problem for us. He wants you completely off the Heighters’ radar. So we gotta keep us knowing each other between us. Us talking more… between us.”

“Another secret?” I joked, my heart soaring that he wanted to keep me around, period.

“Another secret,” Austin said in all seriousness.

I dipped my eyes. “So you wanna talk to me more? Get to know me more?” The view of our feet edging closer wasn’t exactly helping with the nerves.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” Austin rasped out.

Lifting my eyes, I caught Austin leaning down toward my face. Every muscle in my body ceased to move. His head lowered, so close I could feel the rough stubble of his cheeks against mine. Austin was breathing hard, where my breathing seemed to have paused. Goose bumps broke out all over my skin, and my arms ached with tension as they lay stiff along my sides.

Unable to cope with the closeness, I squeezed my eyes shut, Austin’s warm breath ghosting past my ear.

“Buona notte, Pix,” Austin whispered. I felt his lips brush past my lips. Then he moved away.

When I snapped my eyes back open, Austin stood a couple feet in front of me, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Get on now, Pix. I’ll watch that you get in safe.”

Nodding numbly, I turned away, only to glance back and say, “As bad as last night was for you, I’m glad I was there because it led us to tonight.”

Austin nodded once, a curt stoic nod. “Catch you later, Pix.”

I scurried down the path to my sorority house, when I heard Austin shout, “Pix?”

Halting, I turned around, and he moved from the shadows into the moonlight. My heart constricted at the beautiful sight.

“Why the war paint?”

I brushed back my bobbed hair and replied, “Why the tattoos?”

Austin smiled at my response, his white teeth illuminated, and he shook his head, flicking two fingers as his wave good-bye.

I set off again on the path and, closing the front door of the silent sorority house, I hurried to my room. As I walked into the bathroom, I had a definite spring in my step, until I looked at myself in the mirror and all my newfound excitement waned.

Staring back at me was such an eyesore.

I almost forgot about all my issues tonight. But my reflection brought it all back with a slam.

Reaching into my vanity closet, I pulled out my cosmetic wipes and began my nightly routine. As my dark makeup rubbed off, all insecurities crept back.

Seems the boy could like you, Lexington, but I can make him like you more. Those ten pounds we need to lose will make him want you like no one before. Imagine how impressed he will be if you are that little bit thinner.

As I listened to the voice, I felt myself agree. Austin would be impressed if I lost more.

Ten pounds off would make everything in my life just that much better… Ten more pounds off would guide me toward perfection…

Chapter Thirteen

Austin

Neyland Stadium

Knoxville, Tennessee

We were up by fifteen and the Vols fans in the stadium were booing in their droves. I turned to the home stand, a sea of orange and white, and smiled. Then turning my back, I showed them my crimson number eighty-three with my two thumbs.

Eat that, Tennessee, I thought smugly.

“You suck, Carillo! Defense, defense, defense,” was all I could hear in response to my taunt. Glancing to the sideline, I spotted Pix crisscrossing her legs in routine and shaking her pompoms, she was laughing at me. I flashed her a covert wink and her mouth dropped in shock.

The referee’s whistle sounded, and it was time for the offense to take the field. Rome immediately called us into the huddle. “Carillo, you wanna have some fun?” he said with a huge smile.

Punching my fist in my hand, I replied, “Fuckin’ A!”

“Then let’s get it done,” Rome shouted and called a, “Denny Eighty-Three, on red. One, two—”

“Why the f**k’s Carillo getting a chance at another TD? Give it to me. He’s already got two in the can. And we’re only on the thirty-yard line. Play it safe. We already got the W,” Chris Porter, the other wide receiver, whined like a little prissy bitch.

I f**kin’ hated this cunt. He’d been trying to undercut me as top wide receiver since freshman year. Hated that Rome and I had played together our whole life and had that rare QB-wide receiver bond. And Porter hated the fact that I was a better player than him.