A God in Carver (Carver High #1) Read online

  “So you don’t mind playing second fiddle?”

  “No. Not at all. He’s the one that has to deal with all the small town reporters and college recruiters. He’s the one who’s under all kinds of pressure. That kid has the weight of this entire town on his shoulders. I’m on that field for one reason – to play ball and run some motherfuckers over. I don’t think I’d want to play if it was a means to an end, you know?” he says, looking me dead in the eyes. “If it was the ticket to my future. If every move meant success or failure to this town. I don’t think I’d want to play if I were him.”

  That was good. I forget that Brandon, Nash and Reggie are regulars at the interview game. Brandon kind of sucked, but Nash isn’t bad at it.

  “What are you saying? That you’re not good under pressure?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is that it’s just a game to me. It’s one play, and during that play I have to put guys into the ground and sometimes I have to get that ball into the end zone. The pressure ends once the play is over. And if it happens to be the last play of the game then the pressure goes away for the rest of the week.”

  “So you never carry the responsibility of your losses, even if you had something to do with them?”

  “No, I guess I don’t.”

  “So basically what you’re saying is that you play the game for you and not for anyone else.”

  “It’s a game. I play it because it’s fun.”

  “Would it be as fun if it didn’t come with all of the added perks that you get off the field?”

  “What do you mean, like the open tabs we have at restaurants?”

  “Restaurants, gas stations, bars, liquor stores…”

  “All that stuff is awesome, but it would still be fun regardless.”

  “Do you ever wonder why you and your fellow high school team mates are served alcohol even though you are clearly under the legal drinking age?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tells me with a shit eating grin on his face.

  I roll my eyes at him but really, I’m happy he’s smart enough to avoid answering that question. “So you consider yourself a local celebrity?”

  “Celebrity? No, but as far as this town goes, football is what put us on the map. No one would even know where the hell Carver, Georgia was if it wasn’t for Coach Mason and this football program.”

  “What other kinds of perks do you get?”

  “Well for one, I spend most of my nights in the bed of the most gorgeous girl in the state of Georgia.”

  “Oh yeah? And who might that be?”

  “Well that’s a stupid question. Everyone knows the answer to that.”

  “And is she also the reason you have a 3.5 GPA?”

  “No she’s not and don’t you go suggesting she is. She’s got a deep seeded hatred for spirit girls.”

  “Mr. Carter, what are you saying? Do you lead those poor little girls on just so they’ll do your homework for your?”

  “Well as the rumor goes, ninety nine percent of the female population will do my homework, bring me baked goods and drop to their knees for the great Nash Carter without the title of spirt girl. But of course, I don’t take advantage of that fact. I accept the cookies but not the offers to do my homework or anything else that would be… unethical.”

  I laugh at his goofy ass and throw my notes to the ground. I look into Nash’s eyes that are still flecked with sadness. I wish for once he’d open up to me. That he would show me some real emotion. “Both your daddy and your older brother, Nate Carter, played for the Cougars. Nate blew out his knee senior year, but your daddy was offered a full ride to Georgia Tech among other highly respected universities. Where are they now?”

  He sets his beer down, too hard, and his jaw tenses. “Well, Tatum, as you well know, they’re just down the road. Safe and sound at home.”

  “Did your dad encourage you and your brother to follow in his footsteps?”

  “Why are you asking me this shit?”

  “It’s my job, Nash. You don’t have to take it personally.”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  “So did he go on to play college ball?”

  “Yes, Tatum. You know he did.”

  “And how did that work out for him?”

  “Well since you’re asking… not too damn well.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Sure. I mean, I’m sure your readers will love it. Mom, she was like a princess – long hair the color of baby’s breath; cornflower blue eyes; legs that went on for miles; skin that was kissed by the sun even in the middle of February. Beautiful. I got this friend and every time she steps foot in my house my dad, who’s usually drunk, likes to remind all of us that she looks just like my mom. Claims that she was even more beautiful, but that’s hard to believe. They were in love. Dad was living the dream. Until Mom got pregnant and, nine months later, he became a father. The University was paying for his education and his on campus apartment, but there was no time for a job. So Dad did what any respectable man would do – he gave up his dreams, packed up his new family and moved back to Carver.

  “Life was good for a few years. They even had another son. But when a ‘modeling agent’ came through town and got a look at my mom he told her she could make it big in Hollywood so off she went. That was fifteen years ago and my dad is still waiting for his angel to come back home.” He stops and shakes his head.

  He looks about as insecure and vulnerable as he’s ever looked. I knew his mom left them when he was just a baby, but that’s the most he’s ever said to me about it. It breaks my heart but it also touches it.

  I make my way over to him and situate myself on top of his lap, pulling his body close to mine. “She’s one stupid woman to walk away from a kid like you,” I tell him.

  “I don’t know her, Tatum, I never did. I don’t have one memory of that woman. I don’t even have a photograph of her, but my dad swears up and down that you are the only creature he’s seen that can rival her beauty. You scare him and you scare me too. I’m afraid I’m gonna end up just like him: you’re gonna go off to do bigger and better things and I’m gonna bury myself here looking down these dirt roads just waiting for you to come home.”

  I lean back and grab a hold of his face, looking into his eyes. “You’re never gonna lose me, Nash. Maybe I’ll never be your girlfriend again and God willing I will get the hell out of this town one day, but you’re never getting rid of me. You’re as much a part of me as anything else and there’s nothing either of us can do about that. We’re stuck with each other. Forever.”

  “You promise?”

  “I can guarantee it. I don’t even have a choice.”

  “What the hell is wrong with me, Tatum?”

  “Well that’s about the stupidest question I’ve ever heard. You’re the only person I know who has nothing wrong with him. You’re you. No matter what. No apologies. No exceptions. You know who you are and you’re willing to accept that. I believe you are well aware of this, Nash Carter, but I’ll tell you anyway – you’re just about perfect.”

  8

  “What do I have to wear to this thing?” I ask Nash as I whip the hangers across the bar in my closet. I’m regretting agreeing to go to the football banquet more with each passing minute.

  “You’re Tatum Austin. You can wear whatever you want.”

  “Thanks, Nash, but I’m looking for some kind of dress code here. What’s Summer gonna be wearing?”

  “Good God,” he says through a huffy breath. “Hopefully one of those little sundresses that are just a little too short and low cut to be okay for church.”

  I take my boot off my foot and throw it at him. “Dress would have sufficed,” I tell him.

  “You asked,” he says laughing.

  I take my other boot off then strip down to my bra and panties. Nash stands and wraps his arms around me from behind, burring his nose in my neck. “You know we don’t have time for that,” I say,
unwrapping his arms.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time I showed up late.”

  “Yeah, well I already did my hair and makeup and I’m not redoing it for you.”

  “I can be gentle.”

  “You can be patient. Go sit down.”

  He takes his mouth off my neck and laughs. “I’m gonna grab a beer. I’ll be out in the living room waiting for you.”

  “Yeah, okay,” I tell him, pulling out a white eyelet, strapless dress that buttons up the front and flares at the bottom. It’s a hand me down from Tally. I don’t know why she had it; it’s too sweet for her and almost ironic on me and like everything I get from her, it’s too damn short. But if Nash likes cute little sundresses I’ll give him one. I manage to find some strappy sandals in my sister’s closet that are a size too small but will have to do.

  I look at myself in the mirror and enjoy the sight. This is definitely not the Tatum Austin people are used to getting, but she looks damn good anyway. I decide to pull my blonde hair up into a ponytail and scrounge around my makeup drawer until I find a shiny pink lipstick. When I reassess myself I can’t help but laugh. Damn, I look downright wholesome.

  When I walk out to the living room Nash practically spits his beer all over the carpet and my mom oohs and awes over me and tells me I look sweet as a Georgia peach.

  “You ready?” I ask Nash, picking up our bags for the after party. Mine is full of clothes but Nash’s feels and sounds like it’s full of liquor bottles.

  He laughs then takes the bags from my hands. “Hell yes, let’s get you to that banquet.”

  We get in my truck and not Nash’s like always since he will most likely be impaired by the end of the night. “Are you turning into a good girl on me?” he asks, running his hand up my thigh as I struggle to keep my stiletto heel from getting trapped under the clutch.

  “Not likely. Why? Do you want me to be?”

  “I don’t know. I definitely like this dress, and the fact that I have such easy access to your long, beautiful neck,” he says, leaning across the seat and kissing his way from my naked shoulder all the way up my neck.

  “If I were a good girl I wouldn’t let you run your hand up my skirt and your mouth up my neck like you’re doing.”

  “That’s what you think. That’s the whole fun of being with a good girl, Tatum, you have to work for what you want. And when you get it, it’s so damn rewarding.”

  I push him off me and take my eyes off the road so that I can attempt to kill him with my glare. “Really? Really, Nash Carter, is that why good girls are so fun? Because you know, asshole, bad girls can be cold, frigid bitches too.”

  “Ah, hell, Tatum. I was teasing you.”

  “Yeah? Well it wasn’t funny.”

  He leans back in the seat and lets out an exasperated breath. “So you’re gonna cut me off tonight? Tonight of all nights when you’re finally going on a date with me. When you’re wearing that dress. Just ‘cause I said some stupid crap?”

  “Well if I’m playing the proper girlfriend who is worth taking on dates then I should probably act the part. No self-respecting good girl would let a boy like you touch her on a first date.”

  “Can we just have fun? Do you have to be so damn proud and stubborn all the time?”

  “Fun? You’re making me go to a football banquet. I already told you that if you were looking for a fun date you shouldn’t have brought me. No, Nash, I don’t believe we are gonna have any kind of fun tonight,” I tell him as I pull up to the banquet hall and nearly clip the sedan I park my truck next to. I yank up my emergency break and pull my keys out. “You ready?”

  “Can’t wait,” he says dejectedly, taking a pull off his flask before climbing out of the truck.

  The place is decorated like it’s prom and every upstanding citizen in Carver is in attendance along with all the football players, cheerleaders and all of their parents. Nash manages to turn on the charm as soon as we walk through the door and hell if I’m not keeping up with him. I go out of my way to chat up every adult we cross paths with and laugh at every stupid thing these football players say to me.

  By the time Sissy Cafferty, Colby’s mom and the head of the booster club, asks us to find our seats, I’ve got this good girl act down pretty well. My dazzling smile feels almost natural. That is until I find my assigned seat and realize that for the rest of the night I’m gonna be stuck with Nash on my right and Brandon on my left.

  “Hey, Tatum. It’s good to see you here. You look really nice,” Summer tells me, leaning across her man and putting her hand on mine.

  I try to be subtle when I move my hand away from hers, reaching for the water that’s in front of me. She gives me a tight smile and drops her gaze for a moment. I take the opportunity to assess her. Her long, brunette hair hangs over her shoulders in loose waves. She’s wearing a sundress that Nash would appreciate. She’s got the body of someone who grew up in dance and gymnastic studios and has dedicated the last six years of her life to cheering. But there’s one thing I will always have on Summer: I’ve got legs and I know it. I turn towards her and Brandon and cross them. When Brandon’s eyes veer downward it doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

  “Well, I try. I was so excited about tonight I just had to try my best to look nice for y’all,” I eventually tell her. “You know, I just love these football dinners. You can’t imagine all of the fascinating conversations I’ve had already. I could just talk football all night long,” I tell her enthusiastically.

  She practically pouts at me. “I know you think all of this is pointless, but you don’t have to mock us.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t tell you how special I feel. I mean, how many people are here do you think? Hundreds, probably. And out of all these people I have the honor of sitting next to Carver’s golden child, Brandon Eastman,” I drawl, running my hand over his arm.

  He grabs a hold of it and practically throws it back at me. “Carter, get your girl under control,” he says sternly without looking at me or Nash.

  Nash puts his arm around me and laughs. “There’s no controlling this one and she’s on a rampage tonight. Try to ignore her.”

  “How about the two of you switch seats,” Brandon suggests.

  “I see. I’m not worthy of taking up one of the two prime seats tonight. That’s fine. My ego can handle it.”

  Brandon finally turns and actually looks at me. “What’s your problem, Austin, huh? What the hell did I do to you to make you hate me so much? I know it can’t be the offensive fact that I play football seeing how you’re sleeping with Nash. Is it because I’m too damn good? You don’t like the fact that I get all this attention for throwing a ball? Tell me, what is it that I did to make you hate me so much?”

  “Alright,” Nash says, standing and grabbing a hold of Brandon’s arm. “Calm down, man. Don’t let her get you all pissed off.” Brandon stands with Nash’s prompting before shaking his hand off his arm. “Let’s just take a walk,” he says, grabbing my purse off the back of my chair and fishing my keys out of it. I manage to keep my comments to myself. I don’t know what’s up with Brandon lately but he can’t seem to take my shit like he once could.

  I can feel Summer’s eyes staring a hole into my face but I don’t acknowledge her until she says, “He cares about you, Tatum. I know this is all just entertainment for you, but he takes the things you say to him and the way you treat him personally.”

  “Well he shouldn’t. There’s nothing personal between us.”

  “I think there is, otherwise you wouldn’t go out of your way to hurt him.”

  “Hurt him?” I say, turning to her now. “Please, like he can’t handle a few harmless words. I’m not trying to hurt him, I have better things to worry about than hurting Brandon.”

  “Just back off, okay?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Jesus, you guys are all so damn sensitive. This is why I hate these things. I have to walk on eggshells around you people. You’re so used to being
praised and pawed over you can’t handle a little dose of reality.”

  “You think we don’t live in reality – that our lives are easy and perfect? Is that what you’re trying to say? That’s a little bit presumptuous since you don’t even know us anymore. Do you have any idea what Brandon’s going through in his personal life? Do you even care about what’s going on with his family? Yes, Tatum, he is the quarterback for the Carver Cougars and, yes, he’s a damn good one, but he’s still a person and he has a life outside of football and it’s not perfect.”

  “Oh my God, Summer, give me a break. Even before his daddy became the biggest contractor in Centennial County and he was slumming it on my side of town, his family was always perfect. Don’t tell me that living in that ideal house with his ideal family is hard. You don’t know anything about hard living. You never did.”

  “Forget it,” she says shaking her head. “Nash is right. Brandon’s wasting his time with you. You don’t care about him. You probably never did.”

  “Jesus, can we just take the melodramatics down about a hundred notches?”

  She gives me one last sad shake of her head before turning away from me.

  “I like having you around, Austin,” Reggie says through an obnoxious laugh. I pick my ass up and move over a seat. Reggie’s about the only person in this room I can actually have a little fun with.

  By the time Nash and Brandon make their way back to our table we’ve already been served soup and salad and are on to our main course and Reggie and I have taken our flirting to an almost inappropriate level. Nash manages to ignore, not only Reggie’s arm around me, but me all together. I can smell the alcohol on him but it’s obvious that good boy Brandon hasn’t indulged in anything.

  By the time desert has been cleared and all the speeches have been made I’ve had about all I can take of Reggie’s flirting and everyone else’s complete and total lack of attention.

  While Nash gets his last few minutes of schmoozing in, I head outside. My sandals are off my feet before I even get to my truck and my dress is over my head as soon as I get the door slammed shut. By the time Nash shows up I’m in his sweatshirt, my jeans and boots and deep into his bottle of his whiskey.