Maybe that’s why they hate each other so much.
Dad waves at Eli’s table as we move past it. My gaze falls on Eli to find he’s already watching me. His lips are curled into a smirk, and his eyes are dancing with humor. It’s hard to take a guy who’s so full of himself seriously.
At least, it is for me.
I look away and focus on following Dad. We end up at a table clear on the other side of the room, near the front and close to a makeshift stage that’s been set up. I’m sure someone’s going to speak. At some point during our stay here, I’m guessing my father will be a speaker. His favorite thing to do is to help high school football teams. Inspire them. He says he wants those boys to believe in their goals and dreams.
I often remind him that girls play football too, and he always gives me one of his patient smiles and agrees, though sometimes, I wonder if he actually means it. I find that offensive. I would’ve been offended even more if he patted me on the head. Such a patronizing gesture. He’s done it before.
He hasn’t done that in a long time though, and I’m glad. I don’t like yelling at my dad or reminding him that he’s partaking in misogynistic behavior.
The boys’ club crap has got to stop, am I right?
Anyway.
I’m sitting in a giant boys’ club tonight, that’s for sure. Once we’re settled at our table, I glance around the cavernous room, looking for a fellow female. There are women working here. Mom is here—duh. But I don’t think there is one girl who’s on a team here tonight.
That’s a little disappointing.
I suppose I could’ve played football if I wanted to. I’ve been involved in more family football games than I can count over the years, but honestly? I don’t get it. I’m not that good at it. Dad tried to explain the rules to me, and his words just flew over my head. Autumn ate it up. Jake and Beck are both stellar football players.
A group of older men who are all dressed similarly step onto the makeshift stage, and one of them flicks on the microphone that’s attached to the podium sitting in the center. He leans in, murmuring, “testing,” as everyone is prone to do when speaking into a microphone, and the whine of the feedback that rings through the speakers makes all conversations screech to a halt.
That’s one way to get everyone’s attention.
“Sorry about that,” the man says with a chuckle. He’s wearing a bright red polo shirt and an equally bright white smile. “We know you’re hungry. Dinner will be served in a few minutes, but first, we just wanted to thank all the coaches and their teams for coming to this camp for the next four days. We want your boys to play and to learn. And we hope you’ll all leave inspired and eager for summer practice.”
There are a few good-natured groans and low chuckles at those words. No one enjoys summer practice. It’s hot and intense, and they usually schedule them Monday through Friday, three hours a day.
“We’ll have a speaker after dinner, and then the rest of the evening is free time. Enjoy yourselves.” The man turns off the microphone, and he and his fellow red shirts exit the stage.
With a dramatic sigh, I turn back around to face everyone sitting at the table, my gaze meeting Mom’s. “Those guys were boring.”
“Those guys are joining us for dinner,” Dad chimes in, sending me a stern look. “So be polite.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course they’re joining us.”
“Ava.” I glance over at Mom, who’s studying me with concern in her eyes. “Please don’t give those men a speech about the patriarchy in football and how there should be more women playing the sport.”
My mouth drops open. Mom doesn’t usually ask me to keep quiet. She encourages me to express my feelings, always. “But there should be more women playing, especially at the high school level. Or even at the youth league level. Total acceptance from the ground up will ensure they’ll be accepted over time.”
I might’ve given this speech before. Jake always tells me if I care so much about girls playing football, I should play. Because he knows that’s never going to happen, it usually shuts me up. But he’s not here.
“Boys have an unfair advantage over girls in such a rough contact sport,” Dad says calmly. Always calm when he argues with me on these points. I’m the one who gets heated up. I can’t help it.
“Girls are tougher than you think, Dad.”
“I’m not big on violence toward women,” he says, just as smoothly as ever.
I love my dad. Really, I do. When I was little, I fought with Autumn on who got to sit in his lap first. He doted on my big sister, but he also completely babied me. For years, I was the baby, and I used it to my advantage before I even realized that’s what I was doing.
Then my brother Beck came along and ruined my youngest child status. Dad still babies me, though. I’m his last girl at home, and I love the long talks I have with my father—though during football season, I don’t see him much. I love his hugs. I will still sit on his lap on occasion, and he’ll go on about how heavy I am, but really? I think he loves it.
I love it too.
But when he argues with me like this, I sort of want to smack him. Is that wrong? I just don’t understand why he can’t agree with me. Why he always has to contradict what I say. He probably feels the same way about me.
I can’t help it if I have strong opinions. I blame my parents, anyway. It’s probably genetics. Mom is never one to back down in a confrontation. She’s fierce. Dad always says I’m just like her.
“It’s not like it’s violence against women on purpose,” I remind him. “They can wear the same kind of protective gear as the rest of their teammates.”
Dad’s about to say something else when all those red shirts appear at our table, giant smiles plastered on their faces, as they each shake my father’s hand and lavish him with compliments. Dad introduces them to us, and Beck and I smile and nod but otherwise, they say nothing to us. They’re too busy laying it on thick about how great Dad is, and Mom too. When you have famous parents, people tend to lavish them with lots of attention, and it can feel very…fake sometimes.
Whatever. I’ve already forgotten their names.
Again, I glance around the room, relieved to see staff pouring out of the kitchen, holding giant trays that are covered with plates of salad. My stomach growls, and I watch with rapt attention as they start doling out the plates to the tables that are on the complete opposite side of where we’re sitting.
I have a long wait. I don’t know if my stomach can take it.
“Hey.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I find Jake standing there, his hands in his shorts pockets, his gaze on Dad. “Are you going to join us?” I ask him.
He scoffs. “Hell no. I’d rather sit with my friends.”
I’m this close to asking if I can join him instead but at the last second, I don’t bother. He’d tell me no anyway. And do I really want to hang out with his friends? He’s probably sitting with Caleb and Diego. Those guys have always been total douchebags around me. His friend Tony is all right, but he’s awfully quiet. I figured that’s because he has secrets.
But maybe I’m wrong. Who knows? Tony isn’t talking.
The only guy Jake hangs out with on a semi-regular basis from the football team that I actually like is Wyatt. He’s in my grade, he’s cute, he’s nice, and he moved up to the varsity team at the end of our freshman year, which was kind of a big deal. I like him, but I don’t like him, like him, if you know what I mean.
“What are you doing here then?” I ask, when Jake still hasn’t said anything.
“I want to talk to you.” He crouches down, so we’re at eye level. My brother looks a lot like Dad. Same facial features. Same dark hair. Me? I look like Mom, minus her short height. I’m taller than her and Autumn. But I’m blonde and green-eyed just like my mama.
“What about?” I ask warily.
“I’m hoping you can cover for me tonight.” He leans to his right, checking to see if Mom and Dad are paying atte
ntion to us, I’m sure. “I’m probably going to be out late.”
“What are you doing?” I ask, curious. Jake and I are close in age, which means we can argue a lot, but we get along for the most part too. When we were little, we did everything together. As we got older, Jake took on the role as overprotective big brother, which sometimes gets old.
But secretly I love it. He’s always got my back.
He sends me a look, his lips tight. “Like I’m going to tell you.”
“If you want me to cover for you, you have to at least tell me what’s going on,” I say, irritated with his secretive attitude.
His voice drops a couple of levels. “We’re going to TP the Mustangs’ cabins tonight.”
I stare at him for a moment, at a loss for words. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“What’s the big deal? They deserve it. I hate those guys.” He glares over at the tables where our rival team is sitting, and Eli Bennett just happens to be looking straight at us.
Straight at me.
Our gazes meet. He appears amused by the entire situation, while I’m annoyed. What is this dude’s deal? Why does he always look like he’s in on some big joke, and he can’t wait to reveal the punchline?
I tear my gaze away from his, and focus on my brother, who is still staring down the other team. “It’s going to be real obvious who TP’d them tomorrow morning. You’ll get in trouble,” I tell him.
“Not if we TP other cabins too,” Jake says as he turns to face me once more with a giant grin.
Lame. “I think it’s a terrible idea.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” His tone is snotty.
“Too bad, you’re getting it anyway,” I say, just as snottily. I tilt my head toward his and whisper, “Dad will kill you if he finds out you guys are causing trouble the first night you’re here.”
“Just boys being boys,” he says, with that same stupid grin.
Ugh. My brother thinks he can excuse any bad behavior with shit clichés like that.
“Boys disrespecting their coaches and making them look bad,” I add.
Jake frowns. He didn’t like hearing that. “Why you always gotta bring me down?” He rises to his feet, towering over me.
I turn away from him and right my chair, so I’m facing the table again. Jake doesn’t move, though. He remains behind me, resting his hands on my shoulders and giving them a not so gentle squeeze. Somehow he catches Dad’s attention and essentially sucks up to him and all those old men who are running this camp, sweet-talking them about football and how he’s going places and wants to follow in our father’s footsteps. Blah, blah, blah.
So annoying.
Shrugging out of my brother’s hold, I place the napkin I eagerly set on my lap, only a few minutes ago, on top of my salad and empty dinner plate. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Mom, as I push my chair back.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Bathroom.” I’m lying. I just want out of here. Away from my brother. Out of this room full of loud boys chattering nonstop. I need fresh air.
I move through the room, exiting through one of the side doors, and breathe in the fresh mountain air the moment I step outside. Glancing around, I realize I’m standing on a patio that’s connected to the dining hall. There are wooden picnic tables scattered everywhere, some of them covered by blue umbrellas.
Walking over to one of them, I settle on one of the benches, wishing we would’ve been served dinner out here. It’s so much cooler, and it smells wonderful. Not like sweaty teenaged boys.
Though if we were seated outside, it probably would smell like sweaty teenaged boys. Ew.
I savor the silence for a while. Oh, I can still hear all the hustle and bustle happening inside, but I’m detached from it, and I’m so glad. I didn’t want to hear those old guys yammering on. And I really didn’t want to hear Jake continuously sweettalk our parents so they think he’s an innocent choirboy, when he’s really planning on destroying our rival high school’s cabins later tonight.
It’s only with toilet paper, but still. Ridiculous.
There are giant barrels placed here and there on the decking that are full of colorful, fragrant flowers. Breathing deep, I can smell their sweet scent, and I close my eyes for a moment, just as the breeze washes over me and I can hear the delicate noise coming from a nearby windchime.
“What are you doing?”
My eyes pop open to find freaking Eli standing about twenty feet away from where I’m sitting. He’s watching me, that amused expression long gone from his—I hate to admit this—very attractive face. Now he appears…
Curious.
“Why are you following me?” I throw back at him.
He takes a couple of steps toward me. “I walked past the open door over there.” He turns and waves a hand toward the door I exited through, not even five minutes before. “And saw you sitting outside. Alone.”
“There’s a reason I’m sitting here. By myself.” I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t budge. “I want to be alone.” I say the words slowly, like I need to help him comprehend.
“Hey, just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He holds his hands up in front of him, that irritatingly pleasant smile back on his face, as he backs up a couple of steps. “It’s all good. Didn’t mean to get up in your business.”
Turning, he starts to walk back toward the dining hall.
“What do you mean, you wanted to make sure I’m okay?” I call after him, curiosity now getting the better of me.
He hesitates for a moment before he slowly turns to face me. “You looked upset. Earlier. When you were talking to your brother.”
Oh. Didn’t really want him to notice any of that conversation, since it pretty much dealt specifically with him. “It was nothing. You know how it is.”
“How what is?” He frowns. Looks a little confused, which I must admit, is a good look on him.
This boy is—frustrating. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“An older brother, yeah.”
“So then you know what’s it like. Dealing with them,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I suppose.” He shrugs. “Though my brother moved out almost two years ago.” He watches me, and I want to squirm. Doesn’t he have to get back to his bros? Why is he wasting his time standing outside with me? I clearly don’t want to talk to him.
Can’t he take a hint?
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I ask him.
He actually starts to laugh. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?”
I hate it when guys say that kind of condescending shit to women, like it’s a compliment. It’s rude. “And you’re a complete asshole.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Again, he flings his hands up in front of him. “No need to be hostile.”
“I guess I wouldn’t have to stoop to that level if you would just leave me alone.”
Wow, I sound extra rude. But I can’t talk to this guy. Jake hates his guts. And while I’m annoyed with my brother, I have to stand with him. Eli Bennett is a jerk. An egotistical pain in the ass.
If Jake caught the two of us talking right now, he’d probably try to beat the shit out of Eli.
“Damn girl.” He whistles low, and actually takes a few steps forward. He gets so close, I can smell him. And he doesn’t smell like sweaty teenage boy.
Nope, he smells clean. Like fresh laundry warming in the sunshine. As subtly as possible, I inhale, taking in his fresh scent.
What am I doing?
“You got a mouth on you,” he says once he’s standing directly in front of me. “You have a boyfriend?”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Clearly, you don’t have one.” He chuckles. “No need to get your panties in a twist. I was just making sure you’re okay, remember? And from what I can see, you are just fine.”
There’s double meaning behind his words. I can tell by the appreciative gleam in his
pretty hazel eyes. The way he’s contemplating me.
Like he wants to keep looking at me and never stop.
“Anytime you need help getting those panties of yours untwisted, give me a call,” he says, his voice as smooth as silk. “I’d be more than willing to assist.”
I’m stunned silent. Before I can even work my mouth into forming words…
He’s gone.
Three
Eli
I didn’t realize coming to this camp was going to be such a problem.
Yeah, word on the street was that Drew Callahan would be here for the duration, doling out pointers, which excited the hell out of the entire team, especially me. I hear he’s even going to do some one-on-one work with various teams while we’re at camp. I’m hoping we’re one of them.
Doubtful though, since we’re considered the enemy.
What I didn’t expect was the entire Callahan clan to show up. I used to have a minor thing back in the day for Autumn Callahan, the big sister. She’s hot. Short and cute, with nice, big tits. I used to like older girls, especially when I was a freshman and sophomore. They’re confident. They don’t give you a lot of bullshit. They blow you off when they think you’re being stupid, and hey, I respect that.
I knew I didn’t stand a chance with Autumn, though. One, she’s Jake’s big sister and that asshole hates my guts. Two, she got together with Ash Davis, and while he’s never been totally awful to me, that guy would pound my face in if he heard even a whisper of me saying his girlfriend is sexy as fuck.
So, I kept my mouth shut. Safer that way.
Ava Callahan, though. I remember seeing her in the stands when I was a sophomore, thinking she was a hottie. And she was. Cute as can be. But now?
Now she’s like a walking wet dream.
Okay, that was crass as fuck, but it’s true. She’s pure fantasy material. Last time I saw her, she was a baby. A freshman. She’s a year younger than me. Daddy probably never lets that beauty out of the house—can you blame him?—so I’d peg her as completely inexperienced.
Addicted To Him Page 2
