Lucy

Shit! Was that really the time? Lucy cringed as she glanced at the dashboard clock again. Her swim practice had run over and now she was stuck in rush hour traffic. Which in LA basically meant she was going nowhere fast.

Brooke was going to kill her. Alex’s soccer game was starting in ten minutes! Which meant poor Brooke had been stalling him for a while now. Lucy cringed. She could only imagine the wacked out things her eccentric roommate was coming up with to cover for her. To say Brooke and Alex didn’t get along was the understatement of the century. More like barely tolerated each other.

If it weren’t for Lucy, the soccer star and the artist would probably never have crossed paths. They were like oil and water—or maybe hot sauce and watercolors were more accurate. Either way, if Alex and Brooke were being forced to converse right now, who knew what Lucy would be walking into. But one thing she did know, there was no way she would make it to Alex’s game in time.

“He’s gonna kill me,” she hissed to herself.

Lucy pounded on the horn and beat the steering wheel. Why was there never enough time in the day? Classes, homework, swim team and Alex’s insane soccer schedule never left Lucy with any free time.

This wasn’t at all how she thought her last year of high school would be. It was all flying by so fast and she was missing everything. She couldn’t remember the last time she went to a party or went out with her friends. Wasn’t she supposed to be trying to get into clubs or using her fake ID? She hadn’t done anything fun like that since sophomore year. Hell, she hadn’t even been on a date this year. Really, was dinner and a movie that much to ask for? And all for what? So she could sit on the sidelines at Alex’s soccer matches?

Lucy sighed. Sometimes she really didn’t know why she was dating Alex. Lately, she’d been feeling overwhelmed by their situation. Dating him was like boarding a one-way train with no stops. At the time, Lucy thought she was okay with the destination. But that was five years ago. Was she really not allowed to change her mind now? It certainly felt like it.

Lucy glared at the unmoving brake lights ahead of her. Brooke was right; Lucy should’ve just told Alex she had swim practice today rather than trying to kill herself getting to his game. At the rate her Jeep was crawling, she’d be lucky to make it by halftime. Brooke would’ve caved by then and that meant Alex would spend all night lecturing Lucy in his annoyingly perfect Brazilian accent about how his soccer career is more important than anything Lucy wanted to do.

She squeezed her eyes shut at the next red light, already envisioning their conversation. It was always the same. “Luz, you’re the girlfriend. You need to be the girlfriend. Nothing else, lindenza.”

Lindenza—pretty. That’s all Lucy was to Alex lately, a pretty thing to have on his arm.

She sighed. It wasn’t always like that. She’d fallen in love with Alexandre Alvez the moment she met him. They were only children back then. Alex was just the sweet boy who lived next door. He wasn’t a YouTube celebrity or a soccer sensation being stalked by gold digging women and MLS scouts. They’d just been a boy and a girl who grew up together, who shared their first kiss, their first love, their first everything.

It broke Lucy’s heart that she could feel the special bond between them slipping away. She still loved Alex. She probably always would, but she knew things weren’t right between them. They hadn’t been for a while. But she couldn’t seem to find a way out of her situation. And if she didn’t get to this soccer match on time, things would just get worse.

Brooke

“Where is Luz?” Alex asked for what seemed like the millionth time, making Brooke’s brow bead with sweat. She mopped it away with her fluffy lavender wristband while stalling for time. Dang it, Lucy! You were supposed to be here by now. The game was about to start and Brooke had already told Alex that Lucy was in the ladies room, twice.

“Umm, I don’t know. I guess she must still be in the ladies room. You know us girls, the line can get pretty long when bitches be gossiping and braiding each other’s hair.”

Alex gave Brooke a funny look and she mentally scolded herself for allowing a slip of verbal vomit. That’s always what happened when she tried to lie. Her normally sharp tongue turned useless and random things that made no sense at all spilled out of her mouth. Brooke barely had a filter as it was, but when she lied it got ten times worse.

“Maybe you should go check on her,” Alex suggested. “I need my good luck kiss before the game.”

Brooke stood up quickly, spilling the Skittles that had been resting on her lap. They bounced everywhere while Alex looked on in disgust. He wasn’t the only one. Everyone in the stands nearby was glaring at Brooke like she had two heads. Great. Just what she needed in her life.

“Taste the rainbow,” she blurted out trying to roll with her clumsy candy fumble.

“Can you just go check on my girlfriend?” Alex muttered.

“Right.” Brooke skirted out of her box seats, grateful for an excuse to get the hell away from Alex’s glare.

She jogged up the stairs to the corridor that led to the main concourse, dreading what she’d have to come up with next if Lucy didn’t show up soon. The only thing Brooke had going for her was that Alex probably wasn’t suspicious of her verbal diarrhea since just about every girl on campus fell over themselves stuttering when Alex gave them the time of day. Of course, Brooke wasn’t usually one of those girls. Those two-faced jersey chasers were half the reason Brooke was always telling Lucy she could do better. Alex was a shameless flirt. Sure he was a gorgeous social media megastar with millions of followers, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a grade-A douchebag.

Last summer, Alex was caught making out with Trista McAllister on camera. Caught, for Pete’s sake! But that still wasn’t enough to make Lucy dump him. The video went viral, but it was like the guy could do no wrong. Sometimes Brooke wondered what the hell Alex had on Lucy to make her put up with his bullshit. It must’ve been something big, because after the Trista-Alex make out video, it was like open season on campus. Girls were practically throwing themselves at Alex right in front of Lucy, but none worse than Trista.

Trista McAllister was the most popular girl on campus, which at Saint Andrews

Prep, meant she had the most money. And homegirl had it bad for Alex. Maybe he had magic man bits or something. Why else would Lucy deal with such blatant disrespect?

Whatever it was, Lucy remained by Alex’s side, the dutiful girlfriend. She even kept up all his ridiculous rituals. Like the good luck kiss before every soccer match.

Alex was a superstitious freak. One game he happened to run up to the stands and kiss Lucy over the railing after a particularly awesome goal. That was one of the best games of his life and the first time he was featured on ESPN. Ever since that day, Alex made sure to do the same thing at the start of each game and the tradition was born—which was why Lucy wasn’t allowed to miss a game.

At first, it was romantic as hell. But now, it was so choreographed, with Alex’s crew of video puppets recording every angle, that it lost its charm for Brooke. That and she knew that Alex wasn’t the Brazilian Romeo everyone thought he was. The more she got to know him, the less Brooke liked him. But for Lucy’s sake, she tried to tolerate him.

When Brooke reached the line for the ladies room she pulled out her phone and tapped out a quick text to Lucy. WHERE ARE YOU?

Lucy replied a moment later. ALMOST THERE.

Alex

The muscles in Alex’s jaw twitched while he watched Brooke disappear into the milling crowd of the stadium. Something was up. Lucy’s weirdo roommate was almost being nice to him. That never happened.

He ran a hand through his short dark hair and checked the time on the scoreboard. Alex growled at the clock. Lucy had better get her ass here soon. The girl needed to know her role.

Lately, Lucy had been acting defiant, and it was starting to really chap his ass. Alex didn’t have time for it. He should be focusing on the game, not worrying about where his little good luck charm was. That was the only reason he’d kept her around so long. That and his fans loved her.

Lucy had that likeability factor that drew people to her. Alex always thought it was because of her tiny size and big doe eyes. Whatever it was, his fans went gaga for her whenever he posted videos of the two of them together. But, since Lucy decided to drag ass today, Alex pulled his cell phone out and started a live video. The camera was facing him—of course—and he waved while showing the crowded stadium scene behind him. When he was done recording, he faced the crowd, waving to them in thanks for their cheers. That’s when Alex’s eyes snagged on a familiar face in the crowd.

Trista McAllister gave him a seductive grin and a coy little wave from her seat. Damn. That girl . . . she was a whole different kind of charm. Trista was wearing white thigh-high socks and her Saint Andrews uniform skirt hiked up so short that the whole damn stadium could see her red panties flashing beneath it. Shit she looked hot. Alex had half a stiffy just looking at her. He admired her confidence.

If you got it flaunt it, right?

That was his motto.

And Alex most certainly had it.

Only a few more games left and he’d be graduating high school and signing with a pro soccer team. Hell, he had the world at his feet. Teams were competing for his attention and brands beating down his door with sponsorship offers. Everything was as it should be. Everything but Lucy.

Alex ground his teeth when he checked the time again. Screw it. He’d kiss Trista before kickoff if Lucy didn’t get her skinny ass to the game in time. It’s not like she’d do anything about it. Alex gave Trista a wink and jogged back over to his teammates without an ounce of guilt.