Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology

by Paige, Rochelle

  Chapter Twenty

  Lance

  Coach slams his door, and we all feel the vibration, our heads collectively turning towards the hallway.

  Texas in August is hell on earth. Two of the guys threw up today and that ended one of the most hellacious practices I’ve ever had as a ballplayer.

  “Hope that ass was worth it, fucker!” Yates tosses his helmet across the locker room as everyone collectively groans.

  “What the hell is he going on about?” Orlando spouts to my right, and I shrug as if clueless while dread cloaks me. Orlando taunts Yates on the other side of the room where we all are stripping off our newly ruined knee pads.

  “What the hell you going on about, man? You need a tampon?”

  “Fuck you. Secrets out, asshole!” Yates spouts collectively to the room, his accusing eyes landing on a few of us individually before he rips his jersey over his head. Dread courses through me and I know what’s coming.

  “What the hell is your problem, Yates?”

  “My problem? It’s our problem. Some stupid asshole dicked the coach’s daughter, and we’re all paying for it.”

  Stunned reactions circle through the room.

  “How do you know?”

  “I overheard it,” Yates rants as inside I fight the urge to silence him permanently.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me, man. This is why he’s riding us so hard?”

  Yates rolls his eyes. “Ya think?”

  Voices sound out throughout the room.

  “Who the fuck would be dumb enough to do that?”

  “What’s her name, Parker?”

  “Harper,” one of them corrects, “she’s a sophomore.”

  “The ugly one?”

  That remark has me tensing so tight when Orlando looks over at me, it’s all I can do to mask my fury. Keeping my head down, my hands busy, I take deep breaths to calm myself. There are two ways this can go, and one is off the table. It means outing us both.

  “She’s got a decent body,” another voice spouts while I grip the back of my neck and close my eyes.

  What in the hell have we started, Harper?

  They’re baiting me. And by committing to Harper, I’ve voluntarily thrown myself into the biggest test of wills.

  I can’t be a part of this conversation, or I’ll hulk out. Or maybe it’s just what I need to prove to myself that I’ve changed. That my temperament is different. I can do this. I just have to master control. For her, for me, for my family. Nothing else matters. Even though I’m a part of the team, by deciding on Harper, I’ve alienated myself further. No one can know. I won’t trust a soul with the secret, and that’s to protect us both. And then there’s her side of things. Jersey chasers can be nasty, and if they’re half as cruel as these judgmental fucks I’m playing with, things can get a whole hell of a lot worse. I fight the urge to text her, to warn her.

  “I think she’s cute,” a voice sounds from somewhere in the crowded space. Maybe they’re going after her to spite me. That fear has me reeling. Part of me wants to backpedal from the decision we made earlier today. To protect her.

  What the fuck was I thinking? Surely none of these bastards would dare touch her, hurt her? No way would they be balls enough. If so, Coach’s wrath would only intensify.

  “Maybe when you’re done with her, I can get a taste.” Snickers pass through the room as I unlace my cleats.

  This is where I make my decision. Not back in that parking lot with Harper, but here in the locker room, where our situation is the biggest threat. By doing what I promised her, promised myself, I’ll keep everyone I care about out of harm’s way. Mind set, I shut my locker and head towards the showers. I know my temperament, and this too shall pass. This will all pass.

  “No fun if your friends don’t get none,” someone spouts as a few guys snicker around me. “Come on, be a team player.”

  Fists clenching, I reach for my earbuds. Another minute of this and all my good intentions will go straight to shit.

  “Didn’t coach just lecture us about respect?” Troy snarls from a few lockers down. “How about you take that advice to heart and shut the fuck up.” He doesn’t look my way. He can’t know. And between these walls, he’s considered a god, and by his record, the only other draft competition in the locker room. And when God speaks, these disciples listen.

  I need an ally, but we’re on opposite sides. Though he’s my roommate and on my team, we don’t talk much or run in the same circles. His circle is far larger. While he’s considered ‘the man’ on campus, I do my best not to be seen on anything other than the field. It’s not his house I’m renting, and I owe him nothing. But in this moment, I’m thankful for his gospel and will never be able to show it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Harper

  I shoot off a text to Lance and wait. The house is eerily quiet—it’s not late enough for anyone to be asleep. With a Honda sitting in the driveway I assume someone is home, or there would be no need for the Bonnie and Clyde routine.

  Harper: I’m here.

  Lance: I see you. I’m coming for you.

  Harper: That’s kind of scary.

  Lance: I’m coming to get you.

  Harper: Worse.

  Lance: Damn it, woman. I’ll be there in a minute.

  Harper: Better. But I can still feel the aggression in your text. We need to work on you.

  Lance: Did I say I missed you? I must have hit my fucking head.

  Harper: Zero points for today. You’re scoring nothing.

  Lance: I have a very persuasive tongue.

  Harper: Is this a bad idea?

  Lance: Yes, but we should totally do it anyway.

  I grin at his use of my own words against me before turning off my engine and rolling down my window. I’m sitting for mere seconds when I hear a little voice sound off at the house next to Lance just as a boy appears from the front door yelling back inside.

  “Mom! I can’t be on the porch at night!”

  “You will stand out there, young man, until you can talk to me with respect,” I hear a voice call out as a little boy crosses his arms and glares inside.

  “This house is a prison!”

  “You need some new material,” she replies.

  “I need a mom who will let me do my work in peace.”

  “Boy, watch yourself. I’ll extend your time. Five minutes. Think about the things you say before you spray them.”

  “That’s not funny. You rhyming like that.”

  “Well, I think it is.”

  “Who cares what you think! I don’t.”

  “Adding three minutes. You just hurt my feelings.”

  “I can’t hear you from the porch. You need to come closer.”

  “Sorry, I’m making your crappy mac and cheese.”

  “I didn’t say it was crappy.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “I said I was tired of having it!”

  “It was implied.”

  The little boy throws his hands up. “I didn’t say anything about flies!”

  Laughing, I jerk in my car seat when Lance appears out of nowhere and takes the passenger seat next to me.

  “What are you doing? I thought I was coming inside.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want that kid to be the one to spot us,” Lance says, slinking down in the seat.

  “I really don’t think this little SUV is equipped to conceal a gladiator. And that kid is hilarious.”

  Lance glances at the little boy. “His name is Dante, and he reminds me of my little brother Trevor.”

  Dante speaks up from the porch.

  “Fine. I’m sorry, Mom. For what I said. Can I come back in?”

  Her voice rings out clearly. “What did you say?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Five minutes left.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Hand me my pillow. I’ll sleep out here.”

  Seconds later, a pillow flies through the open door.

  “I will
sleep out here!” He threatens before looking around, the fear in his eyes, proving his threat empty. “I will.”

  “Well, there’s your pillow, ‘man of the house.’”

  “You are supposed to be nice to me. I’m your son!”

  “Works both ways, kid. You have an attitude problem.”

  Lance and I chuckle before he speaks up. “It’s eleven. He’s usually in bed by now. He’s up way later than normal.”

  I lift a brow. “You know the bedtime routine next door?”

  “I’m home a lot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” he frowns. “Long story.”

  “I have time.”

  He turns to me, his hair damp. I can smell his body wash. He’s got on a T-shirt and black mesh shorts. My mouth waters at the thought of curling up next to him, inhaling that scent.

  “I lost my truck not too long ago.”

  “Lost it?”

  “Sold it.”

  “Why?”

  “Had to.”

  “Elaborate.”

  “Naw. Not tonight. Not something I want to think about right now, okay? Just forget I brought it up.” He does want to talk about it. It’s eating him up inside, I can tell, but I nod.

  “You can come in,” the woman calls out before the little boy disappears inside.

  “She puts her kid on the porch often, huh?”

  Lance grins. “Clarissa is her name. And yeah, they fight like an old married couple. To be honest, he reminds me a little bit of me too, when I was his age. It’s entertaining. Come on,” he takes my hand before I can prod him further, “I think we’re good.”

  “So, who’s home?” I ask as we approach the porch to the older two-story house.

  “Just Theo.”

  It’s then I hear the sound of a guitar coming from the basement.

  “Wow, he’s really good.”

  “Yeah and he’ll be at it most of the night.”

  “Hmm. And Troy?”

  “He’s gone most nights. I think he works graveyard.” He turns to me. “Wait, how did you know Troy lived here?”

  “He saw me the other night when you kicked me out,” I say with an edge to my voice.

  “And you’re just now telling me? Did you miss the point of our argument?” His voice carries a much more dangerous edge.

  “He was three sheets to the wind or lost in thought or something. He didn’t even look my way. He just said, “Hey,” like he was on autopilot. He was at the kitchen table, staring out the window. I didn’t answer him. He was on another planet.”

  Lance seems satisfied as he walks me up the stairs, the sound of guitar filtering throughout the house. “Wow, he’s incredible. You said his name is Theo?”

  “Yeah, he plays in the Grand Band.”

  “What does he play?”

  “I don’t know, we don’t talk much.” Lance leads me up the stairs before closing the door to his bedroom and caging me behind it. “I didn’t kick you out,” he says, his masculine scent filling my nose.

  “Threw me on my ass,” I clasp my hands behind my back. “Tossed me like garbage.” Lance bends, so we’re eye level.

  “You really aren’t going to let this go, are you?”

  “I do believe you mentioned something about your tongue and an apology.”

  His eyes pool dark. “I didn’t mention an apology.”

  He leans in, slightly lifting the hem of my T-shirt with his finger and lazily running it along my abdomen.

  “You should apologize.”

  “I did.”

  “You should do it again.”

  His deep chuckle sends goosebumps over my flesh as his finger runs up between my breasts before tracing the underside of my bra. “A little bit demanding tonight aren’t we, Mami?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Well, let’s hear them.” His fingers move up, lifting my shirt until he’s caressing the underside of my bra.

  “Hear what?”

  “Your other demands.”

  “I don’t know yet. I’m new to this.”

  “I’m sure they’ll come to you.”

  Breathless, I lean into his touch and am rewarded when he takes it a step further, his erection pressing into me. “We should ease you into this.”

  Something about being with this man makes me bolder. It’s been that way since the day we met.

  “Then I’ll have your tongue first.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lance

  I stroke the skin of her hip, my arms wrapped around her as we listen to Theo’s latest concert. It’s been an hour-long mix of Santana and Jimi Hendrix. “He should join a band or something.”

  “I told you, he’s in the marching band.”

  “You know what I mean.” She looks up at me, her eyes filled with curiosity as her cheeks heat. “You, uh, did something different this time.”

  “I have a lot of different things I’d like to do to you.”

  She turns her tight little body to lay on her stomach, all her goods hidden aside from the spectacular view of her ass which I unveil by moving the sheet. I love our late-night chats. I’ve been sneaking her into my room every night this week. Though stuck in the small space, we’ve managed to keep ourselves entertained. Sometimes we study until passed hungry looks get the best of us. Other nights we order food in, sharing Chinese takeout across a stack of pillows. It’s an escape for both of us, to say the least. In this room, we’re free to just…be.

  “Are you ever going to tell me what happened with your dad?”

  She winces. “Is he still going hardcore on you all?”

  “Every fucking practice. It’s like he’s been waiting for the chance to make us pay. It’s hell on earth.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  I chuck her chin. “Tell me.”

  “He yelled, a lot. More than he ever has. It was pretty scary. And then he apologized for it, which only showed me how hurt he was. I told him it wasn’t meant for him to see, but it didn’t matter. Mom hasn’t made it any easier on me. They both went silent for a few days after the initial blowup, which was the worst. Mom is coming around a little day by day but Dad, well he’s submersed himself into the season. I’ve spent the last few days trying to talk to him, assure him it’s not a thing which is like shooting my own foot off. I hate lying to him.”

  “Harper, I can’t—”

  “I know,” she says softly. “I-just, if he ever finds out he may never trust me again. We’re close. I’ve always been honest with him. It’s my guilt. I’ll deal with it. He’s just, really protective of me because of what happened.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “With that guy?”

  I nod.

  She swallows, her eyes cast down. “I was fourteen. He told me he really liked me and talked me into sneaking over to see him. He’d been my crush since third grade. I wanted so badly to believe him. Being with him was… he made me feel…high. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “He pressured me, sweet-talked me into it, but he didn’t make me. It wasn’t like that. I was willing, but I still knew it wasn’t right. I knew I wasn’t ready. Anyway,” she looks down, picking at non-existing lint off the sheet, “it lasted mere seconds, and it was painful and horrible. But that wasn’t the worst part. He recorded it to show his friends.”

  “Jesus, Harper.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s the one who should have been embarrassed, he’s the minute man.”

  “Don’t joke.”

  She runs her fingers over my chest lost in that time. “Trust me, it will never be funny.”

  “It’s no wonder why coach is ready to kill us. If that happened to my kid, I’d flip shit.”

  “It circulated through the school. My sister didn’t speak to me for months. When it happened, my whole life imploded. I was totally out of control and I couldn’t stop crying. My parents pulled their hair out. I had to go to therapy. Bad, bad time.”

  “Ye
ah, but you’re speaking so casually about this.”

  She frowns. “I know, it’s just…I think when you’ve been through possibly the worst thing that will ever happen to you, it changes you a little. I feel for other people, like really feel for them, I can empathize, but that incident kind of made me, I don’t know, tougher…harder to hurt? Less quick to bruise. Like if I got through that, I know I’m going to be okay, no matter what happens.”

  I lift her to lay on my chest and thread my fingers through her hair.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” I whisper to her temple.

  “It was just a mistake, you know? Something that I could’ve lived with and learned from, but Dad said modern technology made it impossible. At least that’s his take. And that’s why doing what I did to you makes me a frigging idiot.”

  “That’s different, you didn’t mean to take a picture of my ass.”

  “Different, but I’m still guilty.”

  “Let it go,” I nudge her with my chin, “I have.”

  “Promise?”

  “Swear.”

  “Thank you.”

  She lifts my hand and measures ours in size against my palm, and I lace our fingers. “Since then, Dad’s kind of watched me like a hawk in that respect. He just doesn’t want to see me hurt like that, ever again.”

  “Understandable.”

  She smiles up at me. “And since then, I’ve been afraid to pull the trigger with guys. Until you. That’s why I was hesitant to walk away from this but knew I had to. That we both needed to.”

  “This is a mutual decision.”

  “I know. And you should know you’re the first guy I’ve ever really trusted. And I know,” she says softly resting her chin on my chest. “I just know you won’t hurt me. Not like that.”

  “I won’t.”

  She smiles. “I said I know.”

  “How?”

  She shrugs. “With you, things are just different. I’m not afraid of you, even though you’re a mammoth meathead with a nasty temper.”

  “Nice.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lance

  I hate surprises. They give me anxiety. Being put on the spot is a fear of mine. I always end up freezing, making a fool of myself or lashing out. So, when my girlfriend asked if she could plan my birthday, I was hesitant, but gave her permission. I glance over at her as she drives, my knee bouncing. For the last month and a half, it’s been smooth sailing. With the season underway, it’s been a tough gain for every win. Coach hasn’t let up much at all, and we’ve all been paying for my secret relationship. My resentment for him is growing, but I leave Harper out of it.