Team Player 2: A Sports Anthology

by Paige, Rochelle

  “Yeah, you do know me.”

  Jesus.

  I flex my fingers and loosen my shoulders. Here we go, a swift punch to the gut will buckle him over into the sand, bury his head, pull down his pants . . . and then stretch. I have it all planned out and ready to attack.

  “I thought so . . . Hermoine, right?”

  “Harmony, you fucking asshat,” I say, grabbing him by the shoulder, arm cocked back. “And next time you go to fuck someone—”

  Harmony grabs hold of my arm and pulls me back. “Holt, stop, we’re just joking. Pax and I are friends.”

  “Yeah, dude. Shit.” Pax nervously laughs. “Jesus Christ, I thought you were about to decapitate me.”

  “What?” I ask, my adrenaline pumping, my breathing erratic. “You know each other?”

  “Yeah, I’m the idiot who introduced her to the guy we don’t talk about. But I’ve paid my penance in fro-yo over the years.”

  “But . . .” I look at Harmony. “You hate athletes.”

  She shrugs and fluffs her hair. “I tolerate Pax, but that’s because we suffered through a British lit class together first semester of our freshman year. The only reason I still talk to him is because I like frozen yogurt, and he buys it for me at least once a month, if not twice.”

  “It’s the price I pay for introducing her to a douche. But it was tough to get back into her good graces, so warning . . . don’t fuck with her. Just about broke my heart when she shut me out. Excellent at the cold shoulder, highly effective at throwing shade, and boss-level at ignoring texts and phone calls.” Pax pats me on the shoulder. “Trust me, man, be careful with this one.”

  Yikes. Noted.

  But because I like to act like a confident motherfucker, I say, “Ah, I think I have her wrapped around my finger. No worries here.”

  Harmony snorts next to me. “Okay, keep telling yourself that, Green.”

  I smirk at Pax. “I’m not worried.”

  He assesses both of us, most likely putting his confidence in Harmony’s court. Then again, I have wheedled myself into her day, and she still has yet to truly ask me to go away . . . so look who’s already winning.

  This guy – did you picture me motioning to myself with two thumbs? Because in my head, I totally did.

  “I don’t know, man.” Pax shakes his head. “She’s tough, but if anyone can crack her shell, it will be you.” See, Pax knows where it’s at. “Are you guys going to the football house later? Beer and chips, that’s the theme. Just beer and chips.”

  “You guys really do use your tiny, damaged brains to be creative, don’t you?” Harmony says next to me, causing me to snort.

  It’s no secret that the football team throws the lamest parties amongst all the sports teams. There’s usually no creativity behind them whatsoever besides drinking beer. That’s it . . . beer.

  The baseball team, on the other hand, thanks to our resident party planner—Jason—throws the best parties on campus. There’s almost always a theme, unless it’s during the season and we’re being lazy. Then we serve up more than beer, and because we’re decent guys who love the earth, we make sure every cup used at the party is recycled if it’s plastic. That right there should tell you we’re doing our part. For the record, we usually make people bring their own cups so we’re not being extra wasteful, but there’s always a moron here and there who forgets one.

  The football team despises Mother Nature.

  That’s not on the record, but more of an assessment on my end since they always have plastic cups scattered over their front yard, being blown around by the winds off the water.

  Pax chuckles and says, “I think we’ve come to the realization that we’re never going to ever be able to compete with the baseball team, and we’re resigned ourselves to events surrounded around beers and chips and that’s it.”

  “At least you know your place,” I say with a laugh.

  “That we do, so are you two coming?”

  “Nah.” I wrap my arm around Harmony’s stiffening shoulders. “No, we have some things to do. You know”—I lean forward and shout-whisper—“some lover-type things.”

  “What?” Harmony protests. “We are not doing lover things.” Addressing Pax, she says, “We are not doing lover things.”

  “That’s what she thinks.” I tug her toward the wharf. “Come on, sweet buns. She likes it when I call her that—”

  “I do not. What is wrong with you?”

  Laughing, Pax gives me a wave and calls out, “And I thought you had your hands full, man. Looks like Harmony has met her match. Have fun, you two, and don’t get caught doing your lover things in public.”

  “We are not—” Harmony growls out in frustration. “Let go of me.”

  “You know”—I pause, thinking about it—“I really don’t want to. I like holding your tense, very corpse-like body. Makes me feel all warm inside.”

  She pushes past me and picks up her walking pace. In about two steps, I’ve cut the distance and tug on her hand. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re enjoying a walk together.”

  “You might be, but I’m not. I need to get away from you.”

  “Hmm, is this about the lover’s thing?”

  She stops and spins to face me, eyes blazing, small pieces of hair sticking to her Chapstick-covered lips, and a deep frown creasing her brow.

  I have one word for the look: magnificent.

  I know, call me crazy, but I love an irked woman. I love seeing the fire blazing beneath her eyes while her hands itch at her sides, begging to do some damage. And when she licks her lips, wets the pink of her mouth, it gets me high knowing I’m about to get a tongue-lashing.

  I can’t wait for it.

  “This is about the entire day.” Hands on her hips, she asks, “Why are you even here? Didn’t you come with any friends, or did you just stalk me and figure out where I was going to be today so you could annoy me on one of my only days off?”

  I mistakenly wince at the stalking thing, because you and I both know that’s precisely the dirty truth. Hoping Harmony never knows the creepy sleuthing I did to get here.

  “Wait.” She holds up her hand. “Did you stalk me?”

  “You know.” I tap my chin. “Stalking is such a powerful word. I wouldn’t necessarily put it that way.”

  “Then how would you put it?” she growls. If she was a cat, the hairs on her back would be sticking straight up and she’d be on her tippy-toes, moving back and forth hissing.

  I fold my arms over my chest and give it a thought. “Well, it was more like expert-level sleuthing.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” Throwing her arms up in frustration, she charges past me back to the towels, but she doesn’t get too far before I stop her again.

  “Let’s talk about this.”

  “Talk about what? The fact that you followed me home and then staked out at night to see where I was going the next morning? Don’t you have better things to do with your life?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask, my brow pinched. “Fuck that. I don’t sleep outside, let alone in some college girl’s bushes—plants bushes, not pussy bush . . . Do you have a bush?”

  Her arm raises and I see it coming, the slap across my face, so I quickly lace my fingers with hers and lower it. She tries to pull away, but I don’t let her. Instead, I pull her closer into my chest, wrap my other hand around her back, and start dancing to the cover of Free Fallin’ by John Mayer.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Dancing. What does it look like?”

  Her voice drips with venom when she says, “Does it look like I want to dance with you right now?”

  “Your eyes are definitely saying get the fuck away from me, but your hand is wrapped around my waist holding on tight. It’s hard to decipher when you’re giving me mixed messages. I’m going to go with . . . apprehensive, but slightly into it.”

  “You are the most annoying guy I’ve ever met.”

 
“Thank you for the compliment.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment,” she says, her head now resting on my chest.

  She’s such a fraud, it’s comical.

  Said in girly voice: “Oooo, get away from me, pee-yew, boys, yuck, I don’t want you near me, Holt.”

  Yeah fucking right. This girl is all about me. You might be wondering why I’m saying that. I know you are. But here’s why. She’s holding on to me. Beneath that snark and attitude, the feisty independence and strength, this girl is leaning into my hold, and fuck if she doesn’t feel right being there. She could have kneed me in the nuts. She could have run. But I can feel the smile against my chest. For some totally insane reason, this girl digs my brand of crazy.

  “So . . .” she says, looking up as I guide her in circles across the dipping and diving sand under our feet.

  “So what?”

  “So how did you find out I was here if you didn’t stake out my house?”

  “First of all, no one does that. Second of all, technology has really changed how we find people. I looked up your first name in the school database, found your last name, and then trolled Instagram. Thanks for not making your profile private by the way, it was really helpful.”

  She mutters under her breath, but I can’t quite decipher what the slew of swear words were.

  “I’ll be honest, the yellow bikini picture really got me excited to see you this morning. Also took care of my morning wood.”

  “Ew, are you serious?”

  Head tilted back, I let out a hearty laugh while shaking my head. “No, but glad you think it’s ‘ew’ for me to masturbate, given every guy does it at least three times a week, if not a day.”

  “Men are disgusting.”

  “Are you saying you don’t masturbate?”

  “No, I do.” That’s hot. “But I don’t masturbate to someone I met the night before. Have some self-respect and masturbate to porn like the rest of us.”

  Another bout of laughter hits me. See? My kind of crazy.

  “Jesus Christ, that’s amazing.” I stop dancing and with her hand in mine, then I walk her out to the wharf, the concrete chilly under our feet. “What’s your favorite type of porn? Girl on girl?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  I shrug. “Just seemed like a good fit.”

  “No.” We take a seat along the edge, the water lapping against the concrete but not quite hitting us. Straight across from us is the Chicago skyline, beautiful as ever with the sun starting to make its descent. There’ll be a few more hours of sunlight, plenty of time to hang out with Harmony. “I don’t like anything in particular, nor do I watch it often, but when I do, I just search what I’m feeling that night.”

  “So you’re a nighttime diddler? Nice. I like a good stroke at night too.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She pauses and says, “And before you ask, no.”

  “No what?” I chuckle.

  “I think I can tell what your next comeback is going to be. Tell me if I’m wrong, but the next thing that was going to come out of your mouth was if I wanted to go back to your place, so we could diddle and stroke each other.”

  “No, pfft, you don’t know me at all.” Her brow raises. “I was going to suggest your place, not mine. I assumed your sheets are more comfortable.”

  She rolls her eyes and then plays with her hands in her lap. “Why would you assume my sheets are better?”

  “Duh, because you’re a girl and girls always have soft things.”

  “Not when you live paycheck to paycheck. My sheets are like cardboard boxes.”

  “Cardboard is comfortable. Can’t get enough of that brown stuff.”

  “Stop it.” She laughs and shoves my shoulder.

  “Okay, so my place, because of the possibility of a dangerous papercut from a box. But I’ll warn you, if it’s my place, there’ll be a bunch of prying eyes. Hmm, you know, the more I think about it, how about I grab my sheets from my place and bring them to yours, chuck the cardboard boxes to the side for later if we want to make a fort, and then diddle each other? I really like it when a girl plays with my balls, just a heads-up.”

  Quietly she laughs, and there’s a slight shake to her head. “You are so weirdly confident and say the dumbest shit.”

  “But, it’s making you laugh so that’s all that matters to me.”

  “Is that so? Didn’t seem like it last night. You were on the defensive big time.”

  “You weren’t necessarily pleasant either.”

  “Yeah, but you’re the one who came chasing.” She challenges me with her stare.

  “Because I had a question to ask you.”

  “Is that right?” I nod enthusiastically. “Okay, so you stalked me out, came down here, spent almost the whole day with me to ask me a question?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, what’s the question?”

  “I made a mistake with my tip. Can I have my change back?”

  Her mouth falls open and then spreads into a wide grin right before she pushes my shoulder, sending me slightly to the side, but not by much. She doesn’t have a copious amount of muscle on her.

  I’m a Bison to her squirrel—does that make sense? It did in my head. You get the picture. She’s a pipsqueak, and I’m all man muscle and glory.

  “You did not come here to get your money back, and I wouldn’t give it back to you at this point anyway. I gave you your chance, and you were a pompous ass and denied it, so it’s mine now.”

  “A pompous ass? For giving you a nice tip? Maybe I was trying to just be a nice guy.”

  “No one is ever simply nice like that.”

  There’s a heavy statement. One I wish I could tear apart piece by piece, and dissect to find out the true meaning behind it. This isn’t just about her distaste for athletes; this is deeper than that. Someone hurt her, maybe many people, but there’s a guard she’s wearing, a protective shield that she seems to erect any time I try to get an inch closer. And that’s fine. For now. Just means I need to slowly take it down.

  Growing serious, I reach over and tip her cheek with my finger so she has to look me in the eyes. “I’m like that, Harmony. I’m a nice guy. I might be obnoxious most of the time with my joking and innuendos, but when it comes down to it, I’m genuine.”

  Her full lashes flutter right before she says, “Intentions can be genuine, but the soul can also be greedy.”

  “This soul is anything but that.”

  “Is that what you think? Well, you took my only day off away from me because you had an agenda. Is that not greedy?”

  She speaks with such weight in her words that I truly want to know what’s behind those dark eyes, what or who made her the jaded person she is today.

  “It’s not,” I answer.

  “No?” she asks, question in her facial features.

  I shake my head. “Not when I know you’ve probably laughed more today than you have in what . . . months?”

  She looks away, and I know I’m right.

  “You’ve had fun. Yes, we’ve had great banter back and forth, and we’ve argued and bickered, but we’ve also laughed . . . a lot. You’ve gotten your fair share of eye candy”—she snorts—“and I’ve seen a great deal of your ass, which I’m eternally grateful for. This hasn’t been a one-sided greedy, ill-intentioned day. It might have started off with a hint of greed, but I knew there was something between us that I wanted to explore. Today has been a day full of new friendships and enjoying one of the last days of the summer before school starts back up.”

  “Friendship. Is that all you want?” A loose strand of hair falls in front of her face and before she can tuck it away, I reach out and drag it behind her ear for her.

  “No, but I’ll take what I can get.”

  “What if I say I’m good on friends right now?”

  “I’d say you’re lying. There’s always room for more friends in this world. Plus, after today, I’m not sure you can get rid of me.”

  “Yo
u’re so confident.”

  I bring her into my side with a tug on her shoulder and say, “I have to be. If I wasn’t confident, I would never be where I am today.” And that, my friends, is the absolute truth. And more than anything, I want Harmony Styles to like that about me too.

  Chapter Nine

  **HOLT**

  “Did you guys ride together?” I ask River and Harmony, who are folding their towels.

  “Yeah, I drove,” River says as we both make eye contact, a silent conversation happening between us. I know she gets it the minute she adds, “But I actually have to run a few errands before tomorrow. Holt, do you think you could drive Harmony home for me?”

  See, I told you I liked River. I mentally give her a high five.

  “What?” Harmony protests, just like I knew she would. “No, that’s okay. I can run errands with you.”

  “I know you can, but I don’t want you to. These are private affairs,” River says with her head held high.

  Harmony doesn’t buy it. “Private affairs? I’ve been in the room while you got your vagina waxed, so nothing is private between us.”

  Talk about friendship. If Knox or Carson asked me to be in the room when they got the hair ripped from their balls, I would have told them to go fuck themselves. I’m all about being there for a friend in need, but waxing . . . yeah, I’ll pass.

  “This is more private than that, real sensitive, top-secret stuff.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Harmony rolls her eyes and turns toward me. “Where are you parked?”

  I smile brightly and hold out my arm for her to take. “Right this way, madam.”

  She refuses to take my arm and starts walking toward the parking lot. I shoot River a quick thanks, which she returns with a wink, and catch up to Harmony who seems to be on a mission to get the hell out of here.

  Silently we walk to my car, the crowd around us seeming to part as we walk by. I’m not sure if it’s because Harmony has her head down, ready to plow people over, or if it’s because they notice my desperation to keep up with her and are giving a guy a break. Either way, we make it back to my car in record time.