Played: A Novel (Gridiron Series Book 4) Read online

  Played

  A Novel

  Jen Frederick

  Contents

  Played

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Newsletter

  #GetSacked

  #GetJockblocked

  About the Author

  Also by Jen Frederick

  Played

  She's been playing it close...

  Ara Martin and college football star Ty Masters have been best friends since the first day of school when Ty literally ran her over. She fell for him immediately, but having lived under the shadow of her famous father, she knows a relationship with irresistible Ty would only end in heartbreak. For four years, she’s kept her feelings hidden. But one drunken encounter weeks before graduation is about to expose Ara’s biggest secret and destroy her most treasured relationship.

  He’s been playing for keeps…

  Ty is about to be drafted into the NFL, but his personal life is a mess. He’s got an agent he doesn’t like, a brother who can’t stop offering his opinion, and a beautiful woman he craves but can’t have. He can fire his agent and ignore his brother, but he’s not sure what to do about Ara. Ty’s been able to run down every quarterback he’s faced, but his sexy, stubborn best friend keeps slipping through his fingers.

  Luckily, he's not one for giving up, and once he gets his hands on her, he's never letting go.

  To Mel,

  My one friend who may love the Green Bay Packers more than me. Love you! Go Pack Go!

  1

  Ara

  “Hey, Ara,” a cheerful voice says in my ear.

  I jump two feet in the air and slap a hand across my heart. “Holy crap. Can you put some bells on?”

  At six feet, five inches and two hundred fifty pounds, there is no explanation for why Ty Masters walks so soundlessly. He’s a monster on the football field. Quarterbacks quake at the sound of his pounding strides. Yet he still manages to sneak up on me.

  “I could, but what would be the fun in that?” He takes a seat next to me in the booth, forcing me to move over. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Having breakfast.”

  “What a coincidence. I’m hungry myself.”

  “They don’t serve wheatgrass here,” I tell him and try to tuck my sketchbook away.

  He’s not having it. One tug and it’s out from under my arm and lying in front of him.

  “You should ask to see someone’s belongings,” I grumble.

  “You’re not someone. You’re Ara.” He winks.

  I sigh and lay my head on my arm. “What are you even doing up so early?”

  It’s only a little past eight o’clock and Ty’s six am football practices ended weeks ago. These days when I see him, it’s usually late in the morning. I narrow my eyes at him. Something’s going on.

  “Early to rise makes you healthy and wise,” he quips. “What’s my favorite rabbit doing today?” He flips a couple pages and frowns. “No, Blinkie, do not eat that carrot. That’s from—Oh, crap.” He slaps his hand down in frustration. “Why’d you make him eat the carrot from Farmer Brown’s garden? Brown hates rabbits. He’s going to skin Blinkie and make rabbit stew.”

  I grab the notebook back and tuck it between me and the side of the café wall. “It’s called conflict.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “You don’t have to read it.”

  “Ara, someday everyone’s going to read it. I’m just making sure it’s awesome. Promise me you won’t kill the bunny.” Behind his glasses, he flaps his ridiculously long eyelashes at me.

  I hate how attractive he is. Like, could he have been given bad hair instead of the silky straw-colored stuff that falls perfectly over his forehead? Could his eyes be a muddy brown instead of grass green? Could he have a tummy instead of defined abs, slim waist, broad shoulders? Could his smile have a smidge—just a smidge—less slayage?

  I make an exasperated noise in the back of my throat that does nothing to expel the frustration that simmers in my stomach. “First, you know I’m not going to kill the bunny. And second, no one’s going to read it. You’re not even supposed to be reading it.”

  He reaches up and tweaks a lock of my hair. “You can’t keep anything from me,” he teases.

  I arch an eyebrow. He’d be surprised.

  “When’s your dad coming? You should show it to him.”

  I check my watch. “In an hour, and no, that won’t happen and if you want me to talk to you again, you won’t mention it to him.”

  Ty holds his hands up innocently. “My lips are zipped.”

  “What are you doing here again?”

  He grabs my spoon and scoops some of my oatmeal into his mouth. “This is good,” he says, without answering.

  “Ty.”

  “Ara.”

  “Ty.”

  “Rhyann’s breaking up with me this morning.” He grins and takes another bite.

  “What?” I exclaim. “You two just got back together a week ago.”

  Rhyann and Ty have been dating on and off since last fall. Admittedly, it’s been more off than on, but just last week I saw her coming out of his house early in the morning. Ty volunteered that she’d just passed out at their place, but later on that day during a call that he’d had with his agent (which I heard because Ty put the phone on speaker because he was bored and wanted to play FIFA with his roommate), Ty admitted he was dating someone in response to repeated questions from Dana, said agent. Dana, a guy I think is shadier than an oak tree, told him that being in a serious relationship would help with his draft stock and that Ty was free to “dump her ass” after the draft.

  “Did she tell you she was breaking up with you?” To be honest, I’d be surprised if that were the case. She probably just wants to shake him up. Ty’s a real catch, what with his NFL prospects and all. In a few months, he’s going to sign a big fat multi-million-dollar contract. Everyone wants a piece of him, so for Rhyann to break up with him for good is somewhat impressive on her part.

  “Not in so many words, but it’s coming.”

  I don’t bother to ask why he’s so confident. Ty’s been through plenty of breakups. He would know the signs.

  “Please move then.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s going to throw her water in your face and you’re sitting beside me. I don’t want to get wet.”

  “She won’t,” he says with naïve confidence.

  “She will. She’s a thrower. Like Crystal, Anna, and Nichole.” Not every unhappy girl threw something at Ty, but there were definitely a few. Crystal threw a napkin. Anna dumped a beer pitcher over his head, and Nichole launched a shoe. “Oh, and don’t forget Tasha. She threw her phone. It’s a miracle someone’s eye didn’t get taken out.”

  “I think Tasha tripped. She was always kind of clumsy.”

  “It had the velocity of a missile. You ducked an
d it hit me right here.” I tap my forehead. “I had a bruise for a week.”

  “That was bad.” He brushes a thumb across the bruise site. It starts to throb in response. “But I made it up to you,” he says, completely unaware of how my entire body is straining toward that one little touch.

  “How?” It’s wild how easy it is for him to light me up. I’m still reliving Bowl night. I’m the only one, though. Ty’s never mentioned our drunken hookup three weeks ago, so I assume he doesn’t remember. That hurts more than a little. I remember every glorious, wonderful, incredible second of that night.

  But I tell myself that the pain I’m feeling now is nothing compared to what I’d suffer if I were in Rhyann’s place, having had Ty as a boyfriend only to lose him.

  “I watched that post-apoc train movie you still talk about.”

  “Oh, right. I do love that movie.”

  A dimple appears on his cheek. I die a little inside. The Masters’ half smile is as deadly as a grenade. And can probably do about as much damage.

  You’re immune, I remind myself.

  “I found another set of movies we can watch. It’s called the Vengeance Trilogy and—” Ty cuts himself off, his attention caught by a gorgeous redhead striding toward us.

  I squint a little at the brightness of Rhyann Kruger’s beauty.

  “I thought we were meeting for breakfast, Ty?” Rhyann flips her enviable red curls over one shoulder and stares suspiciously at me.

  “We are. Ara just happened to be here. Right, Ara?”

  “Right, Ty,” I say drolly, as if we haven’t come to this café on a weekly basis since my freshman year.

  I give Ty a nudge. He sighs heavily, takes another bite of my oatmeal, and then directs Rhyann to the booth behind me.

  I give Rhyann a thumbs up and turn my attention to my homework. The heat of her glare scorches the top of my head. Ty’s girlfriends fall into two categories when it comes to me—they either think I’m going to steal him away or they think that if they become BFFs with me, their relationship with Ty will last longer. I prefer the hate over the fake love. Rhyann has never warmed up to me, and I’m totally fine with that.

  But again, I don’t blame her. Girlfriends have come and gone in Ty’s life. Football and his friends have remained the constants. I knew when I first met him during freshman orientation that I had two choices. I could date him for a short time and be forgotten. Or I could be his friend.

  I chose the latter, and four years and countless girlfriends later, Ty and I are best friends. And the girls? Ty barely remembers their names let alone their faces. I made the right choice.

  “Why are we here?” Rhyann asks warily.

  “To have breakfast?” Ty says.

  “At the place you eat with your friend.” Rhyann says friend with the same sort of venomous distaste one reserves for cockroaches and spiders.

  “At the place that serves good food. What’ll you have?” I hear him push a menu across the table.

  I don’t think she opens it.

  “I don’t eat this sort of thing for breakfast. I have a berry beet acai bowl topped with coconut and oats. If you paid even an ounce of attention to me, you’d know this because I have the same thing every morning except Saturdays, and today is not Saturday.”

  Wow, did it get cold in here or what?

  “To be fair, we usually don’t eat breakfast together.” Ty’s voice is smooth and calm, completely unaffected by her chilly retort.

  “Whose fault is that?” she snaps.

  “Mine, but I do have practice early.”

  During the football season, Ty would get up every morning around six and run. After running, he’d down a protein smoothie and go to practice, which, because of how hot it gets down here in the afternoons, has to be in the early morning hours. After practice, he’d have his two classes where he learned about how to manage the money he’ll one day have. Then he liked to nap before he had to go back to the training facility to work out and watch film. Being a college football player is like having a full-time job. Almost all of Ty’s previous girlfriends didn’t understand that. They complained, constantly, about his lack of attention to them. Rhyann is no exception to that rule.

  Before Rhyann can respond, Jeanette, the café’s sole waitress, strolls over with two glasses of water. “Ready to order?”

  “I think we need a minute,” Ty says.

  “Sure thing. Holler when you’re ready.”

  Once Jeanette is out of earshot, Rhyann starts up again. “I offered to run with you every morning and you turned me down.”

  “I’m a shit person to spend time with in the morning, you know that. I like to run with my headphones in, and then after I’ve got to be on the field.”

  “During the season, I understood all the time commitments you had, but I told myself once they were over, we’d be able to do more things, so it didn’t bother me that you missed Thanksgiving or Christmas or even Valentine’s Day since it was so close to your Bowl game. But yesterday was my birthday. Is there a reason you forgot that?”

  Oh, Ty. I sigh into coffee mug. Her birthday, really? I wonder what excuse he’ll dream up.

  I fell asleep watching WWE.

  My brother called and we talked until four in the morning.

  I was arguing with my teammate Remy about how many football players we could realistically fit into a Kia Soul.

  Swear to God, this was an actual argument that spanned three days between Ty and his roommate. It spread to other members of the team like a kissing disease and wasn’t resolved until one of them found an actual Kia Soul and tested it out. For the record, they could fit nine of them in there. Those boys are forced to spend far too much time together.

  “No. I don’t have a reason I forgot. Sorry.”

  There’s a pregnant pause as both Rhyann and I are shocked into silence by his flat response and lack of excuse. I feel a prick of guilt for eavesdropping on what must now be a mortifying conversation for Rhyann, but it’s not like they’re whispering. Besides, Ty would’ve been telling me all about this, word for word, the moment Rhyann left.

  “Well,” she finally says. “I see how it is. I told myself that once your football season was over, things would be different. We’d be able to spend time together like normal couples do. We’d go to movies, go out to eat, study together, but you always had new excuses. I have drills. I have the combine. I have the draft. I have tests.” Her voice cracks slightly. “You had time for everything but me.”

  “I know,” is Ty’s dumbass response.

  “You know? You know!”

  Poor Rhyann. Ty couldn’t be more indifferent.

  “I told you last winter when you wanted to start dating that I was bad boyfriend material. Football’s my priority and everything else comes a distant second.”

  “Really? What about her?”

  Heat scorches my cheeks. Crap.

  I know she’s pointing at me. I shift to the right, trying to get out of the direct line of fire.

  Ty’s back rubs against the vinyl as he peers over his shoulder at me. “Who? Ara? Ara’s my friend. I don’t make time for her, either.”

  “I saw you two days ago having dinner on campus. And two days before that, you were studying at the Sandwich Shoppe.”

  “Why does that make you mad? They don’t have your acai bowls at either place,” Ty stupidly says.

  Would it be too obvious if I draped a napkin over my head?

  “They don’t have my acai bowls? That’s your response?” Rhyann’s voice grows screechy.

  I slump further down in my seat, but it’s not far enough, because seconds later a spray of water hits the back of my head. I fucking knew she’d be a thrower.

  “Oh, hell. I’m sorry,” Ty says, but I think it’s more for my benefit than hers.

  “Not sorry enough!” she yells. “You’re a terrible excuse for a human being and an even worse boyfriend. I don’t know why I wasted even a minute on you, let alone four months. Don’t c
all me again. Ever!”

  2

  Ara

  I hand Ty a napkin. Sheepishly, he props his glasses on the top of his head and dries his face. “That went well.”

  “Yeah. She didn’t seem to care much.” He returns the napkin. It’s slightly damp and heated from the warmth of his skin. My stupid heart beats a little faster. “How you doing?” He peers down at me.

  “I always like a fresh morning glass of water in my face. Perks me the hell up.”

  “I’m sorry about that,” he says ruefully.

  “I told you she’d throw something.”

  He cuffs me lightly on the top of my head before releasing a deep sigh. “I’d stick around to have breakfast with you and your dad, but my agent is coming in.” When I make a face, Ty protests, “He’s not that bad.”

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  Ty reaches out and tweaks my cheek. “You don’t have to. Call me later?”

  “Will do.” I watch his broad frame as he heads for the door. I’m not the only one watching. Ty draws female attention everywhere he goes, and why wouldn’t he? He’s tall and muscular and drop-dead gorgeous and—

  Your friend. He’s just your friend.

  Sighing, I get to my feet to take a bathroom break, but I only manage two steps before someone stops me.

  “Hey, Ara.”

  I can count on one hand the number of people in this world I hate.