The Love We Deny ✔️ [COMPLETED]

Chapter 10 - Problems

The drive home was silent. We ended up winning our first game, but this new revelation soured the taste of our team's victory. How could I not have known? Why didn't he tell me? I couldn't help but wonder over and over again as I made my way home.

This could ruin everything. It was written clearly on our cheerleader contract that no contact was allowed with the players. They didn't take this clause lightly. I knew of dancers that had been fired because a paparazzi caught her in the same club as a player. The joke was that she wasn't even talking to them, but the NFL doesn't care about that. I live next door to him and work at the same company. I laughed bitterly at my situation. I was royally screwed.

When I walked up the stairs, I noticed a figure waiting on the stairs leading up to the patio above ours. Kyle was sitting there with his headphones on and his eyes glued to his phone. He hadn't noticed me coming up yet and I pondered walking past him without a word but the pull I had towards him was stronger.

"Did you forget your keys or something?" I asked bitterly. By the end of the drive, I felt betrayed by his omission. He looked up once I was standing in front of him and took his headphones out.

"Hey," he said gently as if testing the waters. He probably thought I was some wild animal that was about to go on a rampage. Well, he wasn't wrong, I had anger and betrayal coursing through my veins, and it was already hard enough to contain it when I was alone. Now that I was seeing him, it was all threatening to come rushing out in one ugly mess.

"Why didn't you tell me you were a football player for the Beacons?" I asked, deciding to get straight to the point. My feet automatically started to pace the floor in front of our apartments while I tried to sort through each thought coming into my mind. "I mean how hard is it to mention what you do for a living. I mean Jesus, were you purposely hiding this from me?" I asked, looking at him in shock. Could that be it?

"No that's absurd!" he denied directly. "Plus, I could ask you the same question. You also neglected to mention you were a cheerleader," he was calm as he said this. It was like I was the only one panicking about this situation.

I laughed humorlessly. Of course, he was calm, he had nothing to lose. If we were caught he wouldn't even get as much as a slap on the wrist while I would be shown the door without a second thought. He couldn't care less. There it was, the selfish football player stereotype I had grown to know from all my years of cheerleading.

"I mean why do you even live here? Don't you get like millions from your football contract?" I finally asked the question that had been bugging me the most. I mean football players were always bragging about their big houses and fancy cars, during a 'who has the biggest ego' contest.

"That's none of your business," he said harshly. I could tell this was a more sensitive topic, but in the state I was in, I couldn't care less. Well, look who's the one being selfish now?

"Can you not like move or something?" I asked, running my hand through my hair. This was an absolute disaster. We were lucky no one had caught us before the season started or I wouldn't even have been able to start my dream before it would have been crushed.

"No, and for the record, I lived here long before you did. So, if anyone should be moving, it sure as hell isn't going to be me," he answered, sounding more aggravated than he was before. Something in me felt satisfied. Probably the part that didn't want to be the only one feeling like I had been put on a rollercoaster meant to crash and burn.

"I don't understand how I didn't recognize you?" I said more to myself than him, but he still answered.

"In your defense, I don't think many people actually know what I look like. I rarely take off my helmet during the game and have a no-media clause in my contract," he explained while giving me a small smile.

"Your name is different too," I added to the list he made. "You introduced yourself as Kyle Sexton to me but the wide receiver for the Beacon is Kyle Lopez, better known as the rabbit," I recited from the endless pages we had to learn on the players for our interviews. Cheerleaders often went in front of the mics to answer questions about the team and the organization.

I saw Kyle grimace at the nickname and chuckled despite the situation.

"Why in the world do they even call you the rabbit?" I asked, looking amused. It wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I envisioned a nickname suitable for a football player.

"Samuel the other wide receiver saw me eating a salad for an entire week because I had lost a bet with my little sister. It started as a joke but ended up sticking. I swear I'd knock some sense into the one that blabbed to the media about it," he explained, running his hand through his hair. He might sound annoyed, but I could tell the nickname had grown on him. I mean he probably spent more time with his team than his family. They were bound to develop some kind of brotherhood.

I pushed my head up against the door I had been leaning on to look at the ceiling. What was I going to do? For one I would need to move out, find another place. I sighed and quickly said good night before opening my door and stepping in. Looking around I felt a pang of sadness, I had started to get used to this new place, to the comfortable couch and even the leaking sink. It was saddening to know I would need to find a way to leave and start all over again.

I was supposed to be mad, but here I was chatting with him like we were friends. Well, you kind of are. No, I couldn't be. If he was a player, I could lose everything just by being in the apartment next door. It was dark outside, the clock read quarter past eleven. With everything happening today, I didn't know if I would even be able to sleep tonight.

"I understand sir, but I am finding myself in a rather peculiar situation and truly need to look for a different building to stay in," I explained. I had just rung my landlord hoping there might be some way we could come to an agreement.

"That would be in breach of our contract," he said as if it was the most obvious thing, and that I was idiotic to think otherwise. I know this and had been thinking about ways to solve this issue all night.

"What if I find you new tenants before I leave? This way you won't miss a single month of rent," I tried to plead my case. I mean he wouldn't be losing any money so there shouldn't be a problem for him, no?

"Ms. Belova, we have an agreement. The contract was signed for a one-year lease. If you choose to break this contract, I will not be able to refund you the two months' rent deposit," he explained, sounding bored. I mean I get the point and I knew it was a long shot, but could he not be just a little compassionate? Is that too much to ask?

"I see. Well then, have a pleasant day," I said dryly and waited for him to return the courtesy before ending our conversation. This man wasn't going to show an ounce of flexibility. He didn't have a single bone of empathy in him, I was honestly starting to consider a sociopath theory.

I took a pillow from my couch and screamed into it as loud as I could. I felt some of the anger and stress dissipate, but the problem was still there and so was the headache I had been sporting all morning. I took a deep breath. The next call I was going to make was one I hated to make and never thought I would have to make. I rang the number I had memorized as a kid and waited for that familiar voice to sound through the speaker.

"Dorogaya!"

My dad and I caught up on the latest gossip and interesting pieces of drama happening in our lives before I mentioned my current issues.

"I wish I could help you, but your mom is monitoring the accounts like a hawk. She doesn't think I'll be able to stay away for a year," my dad said with a sigh.

Despite the situation, I let a laugh leave my lips. "Do you blame her? I mean I hadn't even left the house for a week when we started calling each other."

"What can I say? You had me wrapped around your little finger at the age of two. I don't think I ever managed to get untangled," I loved my parents, and even with my dad being away most of the weeks, we had still formed a strong bond. I was a daddy's little girl.

My dad and I talked for a few more minutes before he got called away for another meeting. Feeling defeated, I slumped onto the couch and buried my head in my hands. If I wasn't able to change this situation, the least I could try to do is manage and contain it.