Playing to Win (The Trouble with Tomboys Book2)

by Stephanie Street

  Hannah and Alex were my camp besties, but Natalie and Kelly were my go-to girls at school.

  “Some jerk took my parking spot.” Thankful for my tank top, I flapped my elbows at my side to create a breeze. Summer temperatures would soon be a thing of the past, but it wasn’t the heat outside making my armpits damp.

  Natalie’s eyes widened.

  “I know, right.”

  “Probably someone new. No one else would park in that spot. I swear people still think Bobby’ll pound ‘em if they park there.” Natalie shuddered, but she didn’t fool me. I knew she had a mild case of hero worship when it came to my brother. Heck, everyone did. The guy was a freaking legend in these parts. At twenty-one, Bobby lived on the other side of town and went to school at the community college while playing for the minor league hockey team in the next town over. He and Joe shared an apartment, but Joe mostly lived there alone during hockey season while Bobby traveled.

  “Bobby wouldn’t pound anyone,” I defended my brother. “At least not off the ice.” On the ice was a completely different story, and that’s how he earned his reputation. In real life, Bobby was a big ole teddy bear.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Kelly caught up as we entered the hall where all the senior classes were located. Kelly swam for the swim team and had early morning practice. The scent of chlorine followed her around from September through the end of October. Natalie played volleyball.

  Yeah, I rounded out two sets of tomboy trios.

  “Some douche parked in Jord’s spot,” Natalie said.

  Kelly’s eyes widened. “Must be someone new. Who was it?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before. He had a fancy car, though. And a guitar case.” No one carried a guitar case. We had the usual band geeks who lugged around tubas and piccolos, but no guitars. Did school bands even have guitars?

  “What did he look like?” Natalie asked.

  I knew she’d ask and I knew my face would turn beet red when she did.

  Natalie grinned. “That good, huh? Do you see him now?”

  I’d been keeping an eye out. No sign of him. “Nope. And I hope I never see him again.”

  “It’s just a parking spot, Jordan.” Leave it to Kelly to be the voice of reason.

  “I know. It’s just-” That parking spot represented a piece of my brothers and I missed them. I thought I’d be overjoyed about the boys moving out, but in truth, I hated them being gone. Parking in Bobby’s spot made me feel like he was still around looking out for me. And if not him, then Joe. For the last two years I’d pulled into the parking lot and held onto my identity as Bobby and Joe Parks little sister. Nobody messed with them, nobody messed with me.

  But like Kelly said, it was a parking spot. Anyone had a right to park there. I needed to get over it. Didn’t mean I would. And Mr. Parking Spot Thief had just earned himself a spot on my list.

  Asher

  The sound of a lunch tray clattering down on the table yanked me out of a gripping description of Newton’s Laws. Which wouldn’t have been so bad except when I glanced up it was her again.

  The hot blonde from the parking lot.

  And she was not happy.

  “Let me guess. This is your table.”

  What was with this school? Couldn’t they make it easy on the new guy and post a sign with all the insider information about assigned parking spaces and lunch tables?

  Blondie’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing here?”

  I blinked. “Eating?”

  She stared daggers.

  Two other girls, a brunette and a redhead, flanked her on either side.

  The brunette plopped down. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s had a bad-” her eyes widened as she glanced between her friend and me. “Morning.”

  Blondie shot her friend a look as she took the seat directly across from me.

  “You’re the one who took Jordan’s spot,” the red head asked, studying me just a little too closely. I was used to girls checking me out, but this one looked like she wanted to take a bite out of me.

  The dark haired girl rolled her eyes. “He obviously didn’t know it was Jordan’s spot, Natalie.” She faced me. “You’re new, right? I’m Kelly Harris. That’s Natalie Chance. And I think you’ve already met Jordan.”

  Jordan. A fitting name while everything else seemed such a contradiction. Her clothes tagged her a tomboy, but her face and body were decidedly feminine. The combination worked for her. I liked looking at her more than I wanted to.

  “Parks,” Jordan added before taking a bite out of an apple.

  Parks.

  Parks?

  Could it be a coincidence? Somehow, I didn’t think so.

  “Whats’s your name?” Natalie asked still staring a little dreamily.

  “Um.” I cleared my throat, avoiding her gaze by doing some staring of my own. At Jordan. “Asher. Asher Sloane.”

  “And you’re new?” Kelly asked.

  I nodded, and because I didn’t want to come across creepy like Natalie, I turned my attention to my food. “Yeah, I just moved from Minnesota.”

  “Really? How do you like Chicago?”

  Lakeview wasn’t really Chicago, but I noticed everyone lumped the suburb in with the larger city.

  I shrugged. “It’s nice.”

  “How come you moved?” Jordan asked and for some reason my heart lurched a little in my chest at the sound of her voice. What was wrong with me?

  “Uh, my dad bought a car dealership here.”

  Three sets of brows rose.

  “That explains the fancy car,” Jordan murmured under her breath.

  For some reason, I felt the need to apologize for what happened earlier, even though I couldn’t have possibly known that parking space had been reserved for her.

  “I didn’t know it was your spot.”

  “It’s fine.” She glanced at the uneaten food on her tray. “Actually, I think I’m finished.” She rose from the table. “See you guys later.”

  Unable to stop myself, I studied her as she went to dump her tray and set it on the dish return. Her blonde hair hung like a wild mane around her shoulders and down her back. Smooth, tan skin covered her bare shoulders and toned arms. She looked strong, like an athlete. I’d never really been attracted to a girl like her before, but something about Jordan turned my crank.

  “What’s her story?” I directed my question to Kelly, who seemed more likely to give me a straight answer.

  “Who? Jordan? Don’t worry about her. She’s just been a little stressed lately.” The two girls shared a look.

  What could be causing Jordan stress?

  School? The year just started.

  Friends? She didn’t seem to have any issues with these two.

  Boys? The thought made my jaw clench. Which was dumb. I decided to ask.

  “Stressed? How come?” I asked, trying to sound casual. As though I didn’t really care. And I shouldn’t. I didn’t even know Jordan. “Boyfriend problems?” Yeah, not casual at all.

  Natalie snorted and Kelly laughed out right.

  “Jordan? Boyfriend?” Kelly shook her head. “Funny.”

  Natalie grinned. “Although, her issue does have something to do with boys.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean?”

  “Jordan plays hockey,” Natalie said.

  My eyes widened. “Hockey? Really?” Even in Minnesota I hadn’t known many girls who played hockey. Jordan’s hot points intensified until I thought my attraction to her might incinerate me.

  Too bad she probably hated my guts.

  “Yes.” Kelly nodded.

  I frowned. “So, why the stress?”

  Natalie and Kelly exchanged glances again, but it was Natalie who spoke up. “Jordan’s actually really great at hockey. So good, she made the guy’s team. Today is their first practice and she’s a little nervous.”

  “It doesn’t help that her dad’s the coach,” Kelly added before taking a bite of her lu
nch.

  The girls kept talking, their conversation moving to school work and their own sports. But I stopped listening, too caught up on the information they’d shared.

  Hockey?

  All guy’s team?

  Her dad was the coach?

  Parks.

  It couldn’t be. But the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach told me it just might.

  And if I was right?

  I was so screwed.

  Blue days, I had Lakeview Singers, an invitation only choir Ms. Jackson put me in based on my previous choir experience and the fact I played guitar. No way I was the only guy at this school who played, but apparently, I was the only one who played and sang in the choir.

  I found a seat on the top tier, glad for a break from my academic classes and anxious to just sing. It didn’t take long for the seats to fill, most of them occupied by girls, but I wasn’t the only guy hiding out in the back row.

  “Hey, man.” A tall guy with long blond hair walked right up to me with his hand extended.

  “Hey.” I stood up to grip his hand.

  “I’m Jarom.” He took the seat beside me.

  “Asher.” I was a little taken aback. Hardly anyone in any of my classes had taken the initiative to introduce themselves to me.

  “Man, we gotta stick together in here. These girls,” he shook his head, warily scanning the clusters of girls on the tiers below us. “They want to do all this stupid crap. Dancing and-” he shook his head and shuddered a little. “Ms. Jackson’s cool, but she goes along with whatever.”

  This guy was hilarious, I could already tell. “Dude, what are you doing in here, then?”

  Jarom’s eyes met mine. “I’m in a band. We aren’t great or anything but Ms. Jackson’s not just a choir director, she’s a voice coach. I can’t afford lessons, and this is the next best thing.” He paused to grin. “Plus, it’s a great place to meet hot girls.”

  I held out my fist and Jarom tapped it with his.

  “Right on, man. So, here’s the skinny.” He pointed to a cluster of girls front and center. “The one in the middle, in the pink mini skirt? That’s Jenna. She thinks she’s the best voice in here. Tries to take charge, wants to pick songs. Very annoying. Stay away. Far, far away. In fact,” he paused and I looked his way again. “Don’t date her or any of her friends.” He held up his fingers, bent like claws, and hissed.

  I was laughing hard at this point. “Got it. What else?”

  Jarom pointed again, this time to a quiet girl sitting near Ms. Jackson’s piano. She looked sweet and unassuming. “She’s the real star. Sasha. Jenna can’t stand her because she’s by far the best voice in the room. And the nicest girl you’ll ever meet, but she’s just a sophomore. Let’s be real, this class is eighty-five percent women and one-hundred percent drama.” Jarom glanced at Sasha again. “I try to keep my eye on that one. She doesn’t know how to stand up for herself.”

  “Right.” I could see that. From the top row, Sasha was cute. I had no doubt a girl like Jenna would chew her up and spit her out then grind her into the dirt.

  “We have six guys, including you and me. Ms. Jackson likes to do men’s choir, so she’ll try and have us work on a few songs for concerts.” He gave me a look. “We have a lot of concerts.”

  That was fine by me. I needed all the practice I could get.

  Ms. Jackson entered the room, cutting Jarom off. “Okay, everybody, let’s get started!” She stood at the front trying to get everyone’s attention. She couldn’t be very old, twenties or early thirties at the most. And pretty. I bet there were a few guys who joined choir just because she was kinda hot.

  For the first few minutes, she went over the syllabus, concert schedules, Jarom hadn’t been kidding, there were a lot, and what to expect over the next few class periods as she determined each of our strengths and weaknesses.

  Then, she broke us into groups to get to know each other, so she could call us back individually to sing in one of the practice rooms. Every few minutes she’d also call out for us to switch groups.

  By the time Ms. Jackson called my name, my cheeks were burning from all the female attention as we moved through the groups. Trying to shrug it off, I reminded myself it had more to do with being the new guy than anything else. Pretty soon, they would all forget I was even here.

  I snagged my guitar on the way to the practice room. Ms. Jackson sat at a piano, but she spun on the bench when she saw my guitar, her eyes wide and sparkly.

  “Is this okay?” I asked, pausing before sitting down.

  She nodded. “Absolutely. I’d love to hear you play.”

  Sitting down across from her, I cleared my throat and wished for a glass of water. I knew I could sing, but I had very little practice singing in front of other people, especially solo. More than anything, I wanted to be a singer/songwriter. So far, it was just a dream, heard mostly by the walls of my bedroom.

  I avoided Ms. Jackson’s gaze as I strummed the first chord of a song I’d written over the summer. The melody came first, then the words. And for the next three minutes, I sang about dreams and wishes and all the things holding me back, each note, each lyric, a piece of me.

  When the song ended, I opened my eyes to find Ms. Jackson watching me. Her mouth hung open and her eyes filled with moisture. She wore the exact expression I dreamed people would have after hearing one of my songs.

  “Asher, what was that? I’ve never heard anything like that before.”

  “I, um, I wrote it. Did you like it?” I thought I knew the answer, but I kind of wanted to hear her say it.

  “Did I like it?” She shook her head a little. “I loved it. That was beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” I said, dipping my head.

  “Do you want to sing it? For our fall concert? I always leave spots open for solos or small ensembles and I think you should sing that song.” Her eyes widened. “Have you written others?”

  I nodded. “Lots.”

  “Wow.” She stared at me as if she didn’t quite know what to do with me. “Wow. Well, you have an amazing talent, Asher. Your voice is beautiful and if your other songs are as good as that one, I can’t imagine you won’t have an opportunity to do something really special with your music.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Jackson. I really appreciate that.” I stood up. The bell had rung about a minute before.

  I made my way to jazz band flying high from Ms. Jackson’s praise and the rush of performing, everything about it reaffirming music was my future. No matter what my dad said, I was going to pursue it.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan

  No.

  It couldn’t be.

  Not again.

  He turned and spotted me, his lips immediately pulling into a frown before they seemed to change their mind and curve into a smirk.

  Another magazine cover pose for him.

  What was he doing here?

  And how did he make ‘jerk’ look so good? Not that I cared. I still wanted to be mad at him.

  “This your spot, too?” he asked, tipping his head toward his car before reaching into the trunk.

  I watched, horrified, as he pulled out a duffle bag and hockey stick.

  “You play hockey,” I said, the image so incongruous to my preconceived judgments I couldn’t even wrap my head around it. After meeting him in the parking lot, I’d almost convinced myself he couldn’t possibly be as good looking as I imagined. But then I saw him in the cafeteria, once again in my spot, and I knew I’d been lying to myself. The boy was hot with a capital tsss.

  Sizzling.

  Asher paused to glare at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Since I put my foot in my mouth like a pro on a regular basis, I replied with, “You play the guitar.”

  And look like a long lost Jonas brother.

  I kept that last part in my head.

  “Really? I play the guitar?” He rolled his eyes in a fantastic imitation of a five-year-old as he slammed the trunk shut.
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  I held my breath as he took a step toward me, lowering his face so close to mine his breath brushed my cheek. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.” His voice dipped low into a seductive whisper. “I can do both.”

  An involuntary shiver raced down my spine.

  He turned on his heel and headed into the rink without a backward glance.

  Holy smokes!

  I’d never experienced that heart pounding, tingling feeling you read about in romance novels, had begun to wonder if it even existed. It did. I’d experienced it three times that day already.

  I held my breath until he disappeared inside the building then gasped not allowing myself to contemplate what his presence at the rink where my team had practice might mean. I had more important things to worry about, like impressing my dad enough for him to let me start at our first game. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by hot guys who stole my parking spot.

  And my breath.

  Inside the rink, deep male voices echoed off the cinder block walls inside the guys locker room. As I walked passed and a wave of isolation hit me. For the last twelve years I’d played on an all girls team. Maybe I’d taken for granted the camaraderie, the sense of being a part of a team, that developed inside the locker room.

  Not on this team.

  At least, not for me. Each day for practice and before every game, I’d prepare by myself in a separate locker room.

  But I’d made a choice. I wanted to play for the same team as my brothers. The same team coached by my dad. So, I appealed to the commission and they agreed I should be allowed to play as long as I made the team the same as everyone else, by trying out.

  And I did. I worked my butt off for a spot on this team.

  My thoughts turned to the conversation I had earlier that morning with Hannah and Alex about dating teammates. The stakes were high for me now. I had a lot to prove. The time had come to buckle down, focus. Hockey and school, those two things had to be my top priorities. I couldn’t let anything stand in my way. Especially, not a relationship. Which made it doubly important to remember and follow Rule #1. I absolutely could not fall for one of my teammates.