Jugador: The Mendoza Family, page 7
But now, I felt like that ragey eight-year-old again. You weren’t good enough for her. She didn’t love you. You weren’t worthy of her love. You’re unlovable. Pop didn’t even want you.
Break stuff. Do it. The devil over my shoulder was vocal tonight. A feral growl erupted from my chest, blaring through my throat. “Fuck you!” I slammed my fist into the photo, crushing it against the brick backdrop of the fireplace. I reveled in the crunch of the glass as I kept digging my fist in deeper. Then, I did the same to the other photos and slammed all of them off the mantel. My rage didn’t stop there. Cool, collected Marco had floated somewhere far away, and he didn’t give a shit. I picked up the TV and heaved it against the fireplace. Destroy. Destroy. Destroy. It felt good to let that anger flow.
Later, as my rage seemed to wane and melancholy started to set in. I looked around me at the remnants of my destruction. The television tilted sadly on its side with a cracked screen. One end of the coffee table touched the floor with two of the legs broken. The couch was flipped over. Any small vases and tchotchkes were shattered. As I ran my eyes over the damage, I stopped at the photos that were no longer recognizable anymore, punctured and smeared in deep crimson. It was then I noticed my hand dripping in blood. I lifted my fist, ignoring the sting as something shiny as a diamond glinted back at me. Broken glass wedged in my skin. I calmly picked out the pieces, flicking them away, and made my way to the fridge. “Fuck you,” I whispered to my demons. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”
Lily
“Lily!” I heard a harsh whisper above my head. What the hell was Vince pissed off about now? Why was he interrupting my sleep?
“Go away.”
Then I felt a gentle shake of my arm as I was jostled out of my sleep. “Wake up, Tiger Lily.”
Tiger Lily? I opened my eyes in puzzlement, greeted by darkness and an imposing figure standing over me. I jerked in fear, but then blinked several times, scooting up to a sitting position as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Marco?” I whispered in disbelief. My eyes widened in embarrassment, making sure the oversized T-shirt I wore to sleep covered my butt. “What are you doing here?”
“Needed to talk.”
“How did you get—?”
“Window.” He dropped down beside me, and the bed sunk in under his weight. His head fell into his hands, and his broad shoulders sagged.
“Is this our monthly therapy session? Careful. I might have to start charging for this.” It was then I smelled the undeniable strong scent of beer. I narrowed my eyes and noticed the cuts and dried blood on his left hand. “What happened to you?”
“I’m not my father,” he mumbled and peered at me under his palm. “Tell me I’m not my father.”
The pain in his eyes was enough to make me say anything to help him. “You’re not your father. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled heavily, not speaking for several moments.
“What happened,” I pressed softly.
“I hate her. I fucking hate her.”
Who? Who did this to you?
“I won’t allow myself to be like him.” His voice was laced with anguish, and I had to stop myself from running a hand through his hair like my mother did whenever I’d been distraught over something. He reminded me of a troubled boy who buried all his problems in the sand.
“Marco, tell me who did this to you?”
He shook his head and forced a chuckle, scrubbing his hands over his face. “No one did anything. I did this to myself.” He knifed his fingers into the back of his head and muttered, “I’m a fucking idiot for letting her get to me.”
“Who? Who hurt you?” I had a fierce urge to lash out against anyone who would hurt him. Was it Veronica? “Did Veronica hurt you?” I couldn’t stop the jealousy that raced through my system.
I heard a rumble as he hunched over. “No.” His laughter was soon followed by a groan. “I shouldn’t be here.” He leaned his palms on his knees and tried to stand up, but wavered sinking back down on the bed.
I wrapped an arm around his back to hold him steady, and my arm could barely fit around his broad, rock-solid back. “Stay. You aren’t in any shape to leave.”
He leaned his head on my shoulder and whispered, “You don’t need to deal with this. You don’t need to hear about my shit. That’s all it is. It’s all shit.” I glanced down, seeing his closed eyes. He was larger than life, and his weight was very apparent as he leaned into me. Before he became total dead weight and crushed me underneath him, I needed to move him somehow.
“Come on,” I coaxed and tugged him, adjusting his position on the bed.
“I’m tired. So tired of dealing with this,” he slurred as his head hit the pillow. I watched as his breathing evened out and lay down beside him, watching him sleep. A lock of hair fell over his eye, and I smoothed it away, remembering that day long ago when I’d pushed his glossy, unruly locks out of his face. His forehead crinkled, and I allowed myself to continue smoothing back his hair, wanting to wipe away whatever burden he carried. Not thinking about the consequences of one of my family members coming in here by chance and seeing us. Steadying my breathing because I felt reckless as I stared at this beautiful, distressed boy who was soon to be a star. Vince had warned me about not being the one to fix him. He was wrong. He didn’t see Marco like I did. I was beginning to believe no one was ever allowed to see this side of him.
“Don’t leave me, Ma,” he croaked and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his hard body. I held my breath in shock for several seconds before I allowed myself to relax and drink in his closeness. His mother. Of course, she’s the one who hurt him. My poor, brave Marco. What did they do to you? Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I realized I was already in it with him. Was it the wisest decision? No. But I closed my eyes and snuggled closer to him. Whatever concerns I had could wait.
“Mmm,” the deep voice rumbled against my neck, while a hand slid over my hip, covering my stomach. I opened my eyes to the streaming sunlight glaring through the open window as my foggy brain was trying to play catch up. I glanced down at the large hand that was dragging my shirt up to my chest, exposing my panties and stomach. Oh my gosh! Yep, it all came back, Marco.
His hand traveled up farther until it was cupping the underside of one of my breasts. No one had touched me there, but then again, no guy had ever been in my room before either or in my bed. I was nervous, but I also felt warmth and pleasure beginning to creep through my body and bit my lip, stifling a gasp when his thumb caressed my nipple and I felt him rocking himself against my butt. Something very hard was poking me from behind. I should stop this. His hand slid down my stomach, lower to the edge of my panties. This is the part where I should say something. His fingers skimmed over the material slowly back and forth, each pass going lower, rubbing over my clit. Now would be a good time to say something. I involuntarily rubbed my thighs together and realized I was moving against him too as he kept thrusting behind me.
He groaned again and cupped me and the tips of his fingers were circling my entrance through the material. It felt so good as liquid heat spread between my legs, and I could feel myself getting wetter. I closed my eyes and continued to rock against him. A tiny moan formed at the back of my throat.
Before I knew it, I was on my back, shocked, and he rolled on top of me. And then…nothing. I opened my eyes and glanced at Marco poised above. God, his chest was so wide as he towered over me. He gazed down puzzled, as though it took a second to remember where he was. “Jesus, Lily.” His thick arms bulged as he planked over me. His lower half was nestled between my legs, and I still felt the thick hardness through his jeans poking me at my core. “Did I do anything to make you uncomfortable?”
“No.” I shook my head, but my cheeks heated.
“I’m sorry.” His eyes dropped down, and I realized my shirt was practically bunched up under my neck.
“Nothing to apologize for.” I should’ve been more self-conscious, but after our last two meetings and him letting his guard down, I surprisingly didn’t feel that way. Why did I feel safe around this dangerous boy?
He looked around. His eyes were bloodshot, his perfect hair was in disarray, and heavy dark stubble grazed his face. He was a gorgeous mess. I reached up and cupped his jaw. “Are you all right?”
His throat bobbed as he nodded his chin. “Yeah.” He started to shift. “I shouldn’t be here.”
I brought my other hand up to his face, stilling him. “Why?”
He sighed. “Because you’re you and I’m…me.”
My fingers unwillingly raked the stubble on his granite jaw. “And?”
Maybe it was my imagination, but I felt him move closer to me. His arms were now bent at an angle. The muscles and veins under his olive skin on his forearms were more pronounced. I bet he could bench press me with one hand.
“You’re off-limits. Too good for the likes of me.” His voice was gravelly, and his eyes were fighting not to look below my chin.
“Who says I’m off-limits?” I slid one of my hands down the side of his neck, easing the tenseness that he radiated under his smooth skin. “And you deserve everything, Marco.”
He pressed closer to me and closed his eyes as though he hated what he was doing, but maybe he felt this attraction like I did. “You’re too innocent. Too real and the sister of two of my best friends.” He shook his head. “Not this. Not like this. You don’t deserve this.”
“I’m not that innocent,” I protested, feeling the frustration I’d felt all through high school. “I don’t want to be innocent. This is not the Victorian Era, for God’s sake!” I dragged him down close to my face, channeling a confidence I never knew I had. “All I want. All I ask for is that I have one moment, one highlight. I just want guys to look at me. For me. Not run away because my brothers have already intimidated them in some way.”
“What do you want?” His stormy eyes were dark under the red rims. His voice was gruff, but one hand smoothed my hair.
“I want…” My bravado was faltering, but feeling his touch, seeing how his dark cloudy eyes watched me intently gave me courage. “I want to know what it feels like to be kissed.”
“You’ve never been kissed, Tiger Lily?” His thumb slipped under my bottom lip.
“Why do you call me Tiger Lily?” I breathed out, mesmerized by his nearness.
He smiled ruefully. “Because the tiger lily represents pride and is stunning compared to other flowers.”
My heart fluttered in my chest. “And you know this because?”
“One of my early coaches’ wives loved to talk about flowers when I’d go over to his house for dinner. My parents were MIA, but my coach was nice and always invited me home for dinner. His wife would cook and talk about flowers and shit. It was boring, but when she showed me a tiger lily.” He shrugged above me. “I don’t know. I guess I was fascinated. If you tell anyone about this, I’ll deny it until the day I die.”
His mouth lifted into a crooked smile, while his thumb still rubbed absently against my lower lip. I threaded my fingers through his hair. “Kiss me.”
He groaned and shook his head in denial, but his lips were a hair’s breadth from mine and never wavered. Before either of us could change our mind, I leaned up and touched my lips to his. He paused for a second and then growled and dove in, licking and feasting on my mouth and soon he was sucking on my bottom lip. I’d never been kissed before, but I knew if I was going to have my first kiss, I would’ve wanted it to be with him. Soon our tongues twirled together and barely heard moans and heavy breaths sounded around us. Then he pulsed against me while I pulled him closer, never wanting to lose this contact.
I felt the heat and wetness at my core as I pressed against him, lost in the sensations, relishing how his mouth claimed mine. He was a good kisser, just like everything else he did. He pressed deeper and our moans melded together. I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t exactly know what he was doing. But I didn’t want it to stop. He gripped my chin firmly as his tongue delved into my mouth. “So sweet. So fucking sweet.” His erection thrust over my clit through the fabric of our clothes again and again.
“You are too.” I moaned as I bucked against him.
“Guys aren’t sweet. We’re assholes,” he warned against my lips and pressed into me again. “Remember that.”
I could feel the heat rising, bubbling up much like when I touched myself alone in my bed. But this was more. The pleasure was intensified as I moved against him, and his mouth claimed mine again in a searing kiss. “It feels so good.” I drew my fingers over his broad shoulders, relishing the feel of his strong body under my fingertips. His lips moved down my neck while I bucked against him, craving the contact. Needing more. My movements were becoming choppy and erratic, but I didn’t care because I was chasing that high. Soon, I was at that point where I was on the edge of a cliff about to swan dive, and I moaned and dug my nails into his shirt as I bowed up. His mouth closed over one of my nipples, and the dam broke as I uncontrollably jerked against him. My legs tightened around his hips and pressed him closer if that were even physically possible.
Marco continued to suck on my nipple as I felt myself tumbling into the cloud of euphoria. I continued to tremor beneath him as he moved harder and faster against me, and I winced as his teeth gnashed my nipple as he growled against my skin. Still, I continued to clutch him against me, feeling the scratch of stubble on my breast while he pounded against me over and over until his lurching movements began to wane.
We were both breathing hard, and soon I heard him mumble, “Fuck me. What did I do?”
He started to lift up, and I gripped him tighter. “What do you mean?”
“This. We can’t do this. I’m sorry. I should’ve stopped it.” He pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. I wanted to ask why, but when he ran a hand through his hair, I noticed the caked blood and cuts decorating his knuckles.
“Your hand.”
“I’m fine.” He waved me off and stood up, exhaling heavily. “I need to go.”
“Wait. Are you sure you’re okay? Let me doctor your wounds.”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” He scowled as he gripped the back of his neck.
“Why are you angry?”
“I’m not angry with you. Never you. I’m disappointed in myself.” He still wouldn’t look at me.
“For what? For kissing me?” I felt my bottom lip quiver, but I wouldn’t show him that he could possibly hurt me. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, Lily. It’s me. I took advantage of you.”
“You didn’t take advantage—”
“I did. You’re Vince and Emilio’s sister.” He cursed under his breath. “This can’t happen.”
“It was only a kiss,” I argued, keeping my heart from nose-diving to the bottom of my stomach. “I’m eighteen. I can make decisions for myself.”
He scoffed and shook his head in disgust. “No. It wasn’t just a kiss. I should’ve never come here.” He walked over to the window and paused. “Your first kiss should’ve been meaningful. Not with some drunken idiot who has anger issues.” He paused on the ledge. “I took it too far,” he muttered and climbed out, leaving me in a state of shock. How I could go from euphoria to self-doubt in minutes was mind-boggling.
Lily
Weeks went by and it seemed like Marco and I were again complete strangers. His untouchable mask was back in place. He still walked the halls like the football god he was, with a smile that never quite reached his eyes. Girls sidled up to him; guys huddled around him. But when he saw me, his expressionless gray-brown eyes never registered that he’d once fallen apart holding me close as he slept and had granted me my wish of a first kiss and then some. But sometimes I felt his eyes on me. He never gave anything away, but I knew he saw me.
Maybe he didn’t. Maybe to him it was as though that brief moment never happened. But I knew, and the memory was burned into my brain.
The bell rang at the end of Calc, and I gathered up my things, trying to ignore Marco who grabbed both his textbook and notebook in one hand and started out. As I made it back to my locker, exchanging books, I saw a huge figure leaned against the locker beside me.
I glanced up warily. “What do you want, Jack?”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“You already did.” I made a point to ignore him as I rummaged through my locker. For several days after the incident, Jack glared at me in class. He’d never made an attempt to speak to me for weeks, and now?
He reached out and placed his hand on my arm stopping me, obviously wanting my full attention. “No. Lily, I’m truly sorry about that night. I drank too much and was angry. I just didn’t have the nerve to approach you.” His eyes shifted down to his feet. “I was pissed because I hadn’t received a football scholarship offer from any school. And my grades are so shitty that I can’t even get into small colleges.”
“It’s fine.” I waved him off. Did he want me to give him a pep talk and say I’m sorry for his real-world problems? Jack gave off major creep vibes anyway. “I have to get to class.”
“Okay. I’ll see you around. Maybe we can hang out sometime.”
“Sure.” Never. I waved him off and closed my locker shuffling down the hall, not wanting to be late for my next class. When I looked up, straight ahead of me was Mr. Unavailable with his eyes narrowed at Jack who moved past him without a glance. Marco’s fists clenched, and I shook my head and moved around him too before a hand shot out, stopping me and pulling me over to a cove nearby two water fountains.
I glanced around everywhere but at him. “I’m late for class,” I said.
