Chapter 2-2
1318 Words
By the time she had finished getting ready in a Trihn original dress, Marshall was collecting her for dinner. She slid into her Manolos and hurried after him to the elevator and then the waiting limo. It was a short drive to the luxurious steak house, and she was stuffed in a seat between Marshall and one of the team owners or managers. She never figured out which since they talked over her the entire night.
Apparently, Marshall had been completely serious about her being arm candy for the evening. So, she ate her dinner and remained silent.
Marshall didn’t seem to notice her unease on the drive back to the hotel. Whatever mood he’d thought she was in when he was waiting to get drafted had dissipated with his euphoria. He was practically whistling to himself in the car.
Stacia just chewed on her lip and watched Michigan Avenue disappear around the corner. The limo dropped them off in front of the hotel, and they walked through the historic hotel lobby before taking the elevator up to the suite.
Before the door was even fully closed, Marshall was on her. He grabbed her around the middle and crushed his lips down on hers.
“Oh, babe,” he growled against her lips. “I’ve been dreaming about this all afternoon.”
“Marshall,” she squeaked.
Fuck. She needed to talk to him. She hadn’t wanted to do this right after the draft. She wanted him to be happy and to celebrate this with him. She had figured she could just pretend with him for another day or two. The last thing she wanted was to ruin this big day for him. He was supposed to come back to campus to finish finals, and she’d planned to say something then.
But she hadn’t factored in that he would want to have s*x with her. Of course she had known he would want to. What guy wouldn’t? Especially on a day like today? Normally, she would be a hundred percent on board, but after her revelation this afternoon, the thought of having s*x with him made her nauseated. It made her feel…cheap.
She shoved against his chest, but he didn’t budge.
“Want to get inside you,” he muttered. “Need my prize p***y for getting drafted.”
“Prize?” she nearly gasped out as he walked her backward toward the bed.
“f**k yeah, you’re my prize. Going to enjoy my present, too.”
“Marshall, stop,” she said. “Stop.”
“Feisty tonight,” he said, completely ignoring her comments. Grabbing her by the back of the legs, he hoisted her into the air.
“Marshall! Put me down!”
He laughed and tossed her back on the bed, as if she weighed nothing. She bounced once before landing in a heap on the downy mattress. Marshall crawled onto the bed after her, covering her tiny five-foot frame with his towering six-foot-four body. She squirmed to try to get out from under him, but it was no use. He had her pinned in seconds.
His broad grin made her nervous. She hated what she was about to do—that she was going to have to hurt him. This was her fault to begin with. But she couldn’t go on pretending.
He trailed his fingers down the side of her face and over her collarbone, edging lower, when she finally found her voice.
“I don’t want to have s*x with you.”
“Yes, you do,” he said without skipping a beat. He just let his lips trail kisses where his fingers had just been.
She grabbed his hand before it reached the hem of her dress and tried to keep him from prying it up. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
He looked up at her from where he had last laid a kiss on her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “You always want to have s*x. Since when do you not want to have s*x?”
“Since today,” she said.
She tried to scoot up out from under him, but his lower half weighed her down, so she couldn’t move.
“It’s the best day of my life, Stacia. We’re having s*x,” he told her more forcefully.
She shook her head, and a small tear leaked out of her right eye. She closed her eyes against the traitorous tear, sighing heavily. “I want to break up.”
That got him off her.
He jumped back, as if he’d just been tackled. As if she’d just doused him with burning oil. She opened her eyes to see the shock on his face. He looked beyond stunned. She was sure that he never thought he would hear that from her. Not after he’d just been drafted.
Truly, she wished she could have spared him this moment. She wished he had just listened and waited to have s*x with her, and then she could have done this when it wouldn’t have caused him so much grief. But he hadn’t taken no for an answer. She hadn’t been able to figure out another option.
“Why?” he asked, flabbergasted.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, closing her eyes again.
“You don’t know? What the hell do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I don’t know!” she cried. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to go this way. I just don’t want…this,” she finished lamely.
“What is this?” he demanded. “Me? The NFL? You don’t want to be a quarterback’s wife?” He launched off the bed and paced furiously. She sputtered, but he cut her off, “Don’t even bother answering that. We both know this is exactly what you’ve always wanted.”
“Marshall,” she warbled. She straightened out her dress and slid off the bed. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Sorry for what, Stacia?”
“I don’t know. For hurting you.”
He shook his head and looked away from her. “I can’t f*****g believe this. This is what you’ve wanted from day one.”
“I know. I can’t explain it.”
“Well, f*****g try! This is what you’ve schemed and plotted for!” he yelled at her.
She raised her eyebrows.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I’m not stupid. I’ve heard the rumors. I knew what you were after.”
She wasn’t surprised that he knew. Everyone knew. She was surprised that he was bringing it up now. As if it was somehow justification for them to stay together. Shouldn’t it be the opposite?
“Why would you even want to be with someone who had schemed to be with you?” she managed to get out.
“Because I care about you Stacia. The scheming didn’t bother me if the end result was you and me together,” he admitted.
She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m just…not happy.”
“How can you not be happy. I gave you everything.”
“I don’t know. I wish I had a better explanation. This was what I was after,” she admitted, “but it’s not what I want anymore.”
“You’re ruining draft day,” he accused.
“I know.”
“You can’t go.”
“I have to,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Marshall took a step backward. Six foot four, two hundred twenty-five pounds of solid muscle, a god on LV State’s campus, and a soon-to-be NFL quarterback. And she had made him stumble.
“Stacia,” he pleaded, suddenly realizing she was serious.
“Please don’t. Don’t do that,” she told him.
She didn’t want him to beg her. It had been easier when he was yelling at her, telling her she was a schemer. Him pleading with her would make this impossible.
Marshall looked stricken before he turned and walked out of the hotel room, slamming the door shut behind him. The door shook in the frame, quivering and trembling with the ferocity of Marshall’s anger.
Stacia remained standing, shaking. She couldn’t believe what she had just done. It was the right thing. She knew it was. Maybe not the best timing, but she couldn’t continue to live a lie.
It didn’t make it easier. Facing Marshall had been like standing in a hurricane and hoping for the best.
With a resigned sigh, she packed up her suitcase, determined to be gone before Marshall reappeared. She had been strong once. She didn’t want to test her willpower to stand up to him a second time.
As she left the hotel room with her suitcase in tow, she frowned back at the closed door and then exited Marshall’s life forever.
- Writer
