Free Quarterback Sneak by Desiree Holt

a
picture would show up on someone’s phone and make its way out into cyberspace.
Unfortunately, he didn’t think the Warrens would be taking any calls before
noon today.
    He downed two cups of coffee while
he watched the clock. Valentine’s Day. He had big plans for Stacy, along with a
special event tonight, before the magazine party. Maybe that was why he was so
nervous. By eight o’clock, he was ready to jump out of his skin. Showered and
dressed, he hurried down to the bakery in the nearby strip center and bought
the cinnamon rolls she told him she had a real obsession for. At eight
forty-five, he rang her bell, excitement at the upcoming day racing through his
veins.
    Instead of opening the door, Stacy
merely hollered through it.
    “Go away, Max. Go home.”
    What? “Stacy? What’s wrong?
I have cinnamon rolls.”
    “I don’t want your cinnamon rolls.
I don’t want anything from you. I don’t even want you. So, go away.”
    Shit. “I’m not leaving until
you open up and tell me what’s wrong.” He waited a minute, but nothing
happened. “The neighbors are probably going to call the cops if I stand out
here yelling much longer. Open the damn door.”
    He was considering breaking it down
when he heard the rattle of the chain and the snick of the deadbolt, then there
she was. His heart dropped at the sight of her. She had the rattiest robe he’d
ever seen on over an equally ratty sleep shirt. Her hair clumped around a messy
ponytail and her eyes were swollen and red.
    “I don’t want those.” She pointed
at the box. “I don’t want anything from you. I knew it was too good to be true,
and I was right. At least the other assholes didn’t dump me so publicly.”
    “Stacy, I have no idea what the
fuck you’re talking about. I didn’t dump you.”
    “Yeah? Well, I don’t share, either.
I told you that.”
    “Will you make sense here? What is
going on?”
    She held up a finger. “Wait a
minute.”
    She closed the door, leaving Max
still standing on the little porch. In seconds it was opened again. Stacy
shoved her phone in his face.
    “Look. On the Friends of the
Warriors Facebook page this morning. Janelle couldn’t wait to call me and tell
me.”
    Max’s heart sank. Those fucking
photos with that fucking Alana. He should have grabbed the fucking phone last
night and smashed it.
    “Stacy, the picture is not what it
looks like. I didn’t—”
    “You can’t imagine how humiliated I
am. Do you have any idea how many millions of people have probably seen you and
whoever she is already?”
    “Please let me explain. I hardly
even know her. She—”
    “Good-bye, Max. Don’t come over
here again. And don’t call me or text me or try to communicate with me in any
way. We’re done.”
    Then another hard slam that he felt
through every bone in his body.
    Fuck, fuck, fuck.
    Somehow he had to make it all
right. He wasn’t going to lose the love of his life on Valentine’s Day.
    *****
    Stacy tried to remember if she’d
ever felt more miserable in her life, but she didn’t think so. She didn’t think
it was possible for anyone to cry as much as she had or to feel as completely
devastated. It wouldn’t be so bad if she hadn’t trusted Max so completely.
After all, she’d known him for three years. They’d been best friends .
She’d shared her deepest secrets with him. Exposed herself down to her rawest
nerves.
    And he’d taken all that knowledge
and played her. Betrayed her. None of the other assholes had really mattered.
And mostly she’d been able to hide her state of being dumped because, except
for Kurt, she never shared with anyone. Too bad for her Max had insisted on
making their activities as public as possible.
    She hated thinking he’d had this in
mind all along.
    Maybe not. Maybe he’d really
thought they could be special together. A real relationship. Maybe. Hah! Then another hot female came on to him, and she was left in the dust.
    Her landline had been ringing off
the hook