by McKinley May
Goddamn.
The bartender had to practically pry us apart at closing time, but that wasn’t the end of our makeout sesh. Not at all. We kissed fervently as we waited for a cab, spent the entire ride home tangled together in the backseat. When we came to a stop in front of her apartment, we didn’t come up for air until the driver threatened to charge us a PDA fee.
I’d wanted to take her home—so fucking much—but we’d both been drinking and I didn’t want to take things too far too fast.
So instead I bid her goodnight, enjoyed the view of her sauntering into her building, and jerked myself off twice in the shower when I got home.
Andddd now I’ve got a hard-on just thinking about it—something that’s been happening every time I replay that night in my mind.
God, I want her.
I want her bad.
But here’s the thing.
Yeah, the sexual energy between the two of us is undeniably out of this world, but that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to me and her. That’s only surface level stuff.
Because underneath all that, we’ve got a real emotional connection, the same sarcastic sense of humor, a true friendship.
And that’s where things get complicated.
All of my relationships with women in the past have either been purely physical or strictly platonic. It’s always been that simple, very black-and-white: hook-ups and friends. I can’t think of a time where there’s been any overlap, and that’s how I liked it.
Because when you combine friendship and physical chemistry, you’re treading dangerously close to girlfriend territory. And I don’t do girlfriends.
At least not until I met her.
Rayne’s not some random fling, and with the way I’ve been feeling the past week, I don’t think our “friendship” label is gonna cut it anymore. Not after all that.
‘Cause, shit, I think I really like her.
Screw it—I fucking know I really like her.
And I have for a while.
I didn’t expect to fall for the sarcastic, feisty girl who hated my guts less than a month ago, but here I am, falling. Falling hard.
For the first time in my life, I’m curious to see what would happen if we gave this a shot.
But I don’t know how that’s going to be possible if she won’t even speak to me.
I push the homework off the counter and watch as it flutters slowly to the floor, knowing I’m not getting shit done tonight.
I move to the living room, settling onto the couch as I try to focus on the game. I crank the volume as high as necessary to drown out my pestering thoughts.
Ten minutes later, I hear the front door open and the familiar sound of Liam and Ellie’s voices as they enter the house.
“Damn, mate. There a reason the volume is loud as shit?” Liam grabs the remote and turns it down a few notches. “Thought my Grandpa was in here watching the telly.”
Ellie ruffles my hair. “Going deaf, Vaughn? You’re a little young for that.” She veers towards the kitchen. “I’m gonna grab us all a few beers.”
Once she disappears, Liam jumps over the top of the couch and lands on the cushion next to me. An annoying commercial blares on the screen.
“What’s on?” he asks.
“Football.”
“Ah, nofeetball,” he says with a nod, using his preferred term for American football. “What’s the score?”
I shrug after realizing I never noticed. “Not sure.”
“Who’s playing?”
Uhhh….
“Dunno.”
Damn. I really wasn’t paying a lick of attention.
Liam cocks his head. “You going deaf and blind?” he quips before squinting at me. “What’s up, V? Something on your mind?”
I contemplate brushing him off but realize out of all the guys who live here, he’s the only one with an actual girlfriend. Ellie’s freaking awesome, and, yeah, I’m aware this makes me sound like a total pussy, but they really do make a cute couple. If there’s anyone I’m gonna ask for advice on the situation, it’s gotta be him.
“This convo doesn’t leave the room, okay?” I demand and he nods as I continue. “What’s it like having a serious girlfriend?”
His brows shoot up in surprise at my question, but once he gets over the initial shock, a dopey smile spreads across his lips. “It’s fucking wonderful. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But only because it’s Ellie. A relationship’s only going to work if it’s with the right person.”
“How’d you know Ellie was the right one?”
Scratching his chin, he answers, “It’s hard to put into words, mate. There was something extra with her, you know? She was different.”
“Different how?”
He ponders for a moment before speaking. “Here’s how it is. Imagine the girls you hook up with are bowls of vanilla ice cream, yeah? Vanilla ice cream’s quite nice, really hits the spot when you’re in the mood for it.” He pauses. “You like ice cream, right? Otherwise this analogy’s not gonna do it for you.”
I nod. “Who the hell doesn’t?”
He goes on. “Although vanilla ice cream’s great, there’s nothing special about it. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely respect vanilla ice cream, but I’m not obsessed with it, I don’t need it.”
He drags a hand through his light auburn hair. “So one day you come across a bowl of something, and at first you think it’s just another scoop of vanilla. But the moment you taste it you’re like, bloody hell, this is brilliant.”
I stifle a laugh at how freakin’ English he sounds.
He’s totally engulfed in his story, his voice getting more animated as he goes on. “With each bite, you’re discovering how much better this is than plain ol’ vanilla; it’s got chocolate syrup and chopped nuts and whipped cream. It’s a fucking ice cream sundae, and now that you’ve tasted it, you can’t imagine having normal ice cream ever again. You want this sundae everyday for the rest of your life knowing you’ll never get sick of it. You’re positive nothing will ever taste as good as this. Absolutely nothing compares.”
He sighs happily, lost in thought. “Ellie’s my ice cream sundae, mate. With a cherry on top.”
I slowly shake my head. “Fucking poetic, dude.”
He glares at me. “Oh, piss off, Steel. You asked and I answered. I’m not gonna apologize for having a way with words.”
We look at each other for two seconds before we burst out laughing.
Despite his unique way of explaining his feelings, I do understand what he’s getting at.
Ellie returns, looking at us like we’re insane as she walks around the front of the couch and hands me an open beer.
“What’s funny, boys?”
“Nothing. Thanks for the beer, Sundae.”
She arches a manicured brow and opens her mouth to say something, but closes it and shakes her head instead. “Nope. Not even gonna ask.”
She struts over to Liam and hands him a drink. He grabs her before she walks away, tugging her down and cupping her cheeks as he kisses her.
When they pull apart, she giggles and runs a thumb across his lips, wiping her lipstick from his mouth.
“What was that for, babe?”
“Vaughn was reminding me how much I fucking love you, El.” His hands drop to her hips as he pulls her into another steamy kiss, this one verging into something not appropriate for all audiences.
“Hey,” I say, tossing a throw pillow between them. “Take that shit to Liam’s place.”
Liam grins. “You heard the man, Peaches. Let’s go.” He stands, grabbing her and tossing her effortlessly over his shoulder as she squeals.
He turns and points a finger at me. “Take this advice, V. When you find the one that makes vanilla ice cream seem like the blandest damn thing on the planet, you better not let her get away.”
Ellie lifts and twists her head to frown at us. “What are y’all talking about? Sundaes and ice cream?”
Liam sm
acks her ass. “Don’t worry about it, love. Let’s leave Vaughn to his telly watching. You can turn the volume up again, mate. I have a feeling things are going to get a bit loud next door.” He winks before carrying Ellie out of the room.
You better not let her get away.
Liam’s words hit me hard.
I need to convince Rayne to give me a chance and explore whatever the hell is going on between us.
She’ll have to talk to me eventually. I mean, the season’s not even halfway over and she still needs more info for her article. There’s only so long she can avoid contact.
She can’t ignore me forever.
20
“You can’t ignore him forever,” Lexie says, eyeing my buzzing phone on the coffee table in front of us Friday night.
I don’t even have to look at the phone screen to know who she’s referring to: the same guy who’s been blowing up my phone this entire week. The same guy I haven't mustered up the courage to talk to after our last encounter.
The same guy I can't get out of my head no matter how hard I try.
Without moving from my sprawled out position on the couch, I stretch out my leg and press ignore with my big toe.
Lexie looks over at me, upper lip twisted in a mixture of disgust and awe, and I flash a proud smile. “Impressive, huh?”
“Your hidden talents never cease to amaze me,” she teases, pulling her cashmere blanket up to her head and snuggling deeper into the couch.
“Do you think I could be one of those artists that paints with their feet? I could host live painting events and people could come ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ while they watch me create a foot masterpiece.” I stick my foot in her direction and wiggle it back and forth.
“Get that thing away from me!” she squeals, scooting as far away as possible. “And don’t even think your extremely weird attempt to change the subject is working. You’ve been avoiding me all week, which means something’s up. You know I won’t back down until you tell me what the hell’s going on with you and Mr. Soccer Stud.”
I groan as she glares at me in anticipation, unwilling to let me weasel my way out of this one. I should’ve known this “Girl’s Night” was really an ambush in disguise. Every time this week she’d tried to ask about my birthday, I’d made up an excuse and sprinted from the room as fast as I could. She’d lured me in tonight with reruns of Gilmore Girls and homemade peanut butter cookies, and I didn’t see past the bait.
If I wait any longer to fill her in she’s probably going to revoke my BFF status, so I take a deep breath and let the cat out of the bag.
“Vaughn and I kissed. Well, made out if we’re getting technical here.” The words tumbling off my tongue are low and mumbled, almost as if I’m trying to convince her it was nothing.
Or maybe trying to convince myself.
Her high-pitched shriek bounces off the walls, and I quickly plug my ears to save my eardrums.
Yeah, this is definitely part of the reason I didn’t tell her.
Once she finishes, I cautiously remove my hands and stand up.
“I’ll be right back. Just going to check and see if any of our drinking glasses are still intact after that.”
Lexie hops off the couch and shoves me back down onto the bouncy cushions. “Sorry, I’ll reel it in. But I need details, babe!”
She plops down directly next to me, sticking her pretty blonde head a few inches from mine. Her mouth twists into an insulted frown. “And why the hell did it take you over a week to tell me?!”
I lean back to avoid her accusatory glower. “Okay, first of all, you are way too close for comfort right now. Back away and maybe I’ll tell you.”
She obeys my command and I sit up straight. “The reason I didn’t tell you is because it wasn’t a big deal. We were drinking, it was late, and we got a little cozy in a club. It was nothing.”
“I find that hard to believe, R.” She tucks her legs into her chest, resting her head on her knees. “You guys have this intense, sexual tension that surrounds you whenever you interact. It’s insane, like, I can practically see the aura around you two, and it is red hot. Anyone who’s ever seen you together can vouch for me on this. There’s just no way it wasn’t something magical when you kissed.”
I break eye contact, focusing on the screen where Rory and Lorelai are bantering over cups of coffee. I blatantly ignore the rapidly increasing beat of my heart and the tingle that jolts down my spine as the flashbacks from my birthday scroll through my mind.
“Sure, it was great. But would you expect someone like him to be a bad kisser? Of course it was unbelievable. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing that guy isn’t good at, but that doesn’t mean it meant anything,” I insist as she makes aggravating little tsk noises at my explanation. “Plus, when alcohol’s involved you don’t know which sensations are real or just heightened from the liquor pumping through your system.”
“Okaaayy,” Lexie says, her lips pursed. “All I got out of that load of crap is that making out with him was fucking fantastic, but you’re thinking of any excuse to undermine why it was that way.”
“Uh, no,” I counter. “What I’m saying is that Vaughn and I are friends and we made a mistake. This isn’t happening, Lex. It was a tipsy, twenty-first birthday lapse in judgement. Nothing more.”
She looks completely unconvinced. “So why are you ignoring him? If it was a drunken blunder, what’s holding you back from just telling him that?”
That’s a good question. I’m not even sure myself.
“I’m going to see him tomorrow at his game. I’ll straighten things out with him afterwards, and everything will go back to how it was before. End of story.” I snatch a cookie off the platter on the coffee table and point it at the TV. “Can we watch the show now? I love this episode.”
“Sure, Rayne.” Her face is smug and I can tell she thinks there’s more going on between us, but she couldn’t be more wrong if she tried.
The next morning, I’m sitting up high in the metal bleachers of Warrior Stadium staring down at the twenty-two soccer players scrambling around the field. The weather’s finally started to cool down, so the sun beating down on my bare shoulders feels nice and warm in the crisp morning air.
Although this match-up was predicted to be one of our tougher conference games, we’re absolutely dominating Meyland University. It’s so bad that Meyland hasn’t crossed the fifty more than twice since the game began thirty minutes ago.
I spot Weston looking bored to tears as he watches the midfielders and strikers play the game while he and the other defenders twiddle their thumbs. I’m half-expecting him to sit down and start picking out blades of grass like a toddler at a peewee soccer game.
At the risk of sounding like the worst Windhaven fan ever, I wish this game was more evenly matched because this entire half has been The Steel Blue show. I’d planned on ignoring lucky number seven as much as I could, but he’s the center of play and a major component of each attempt on goal. Not watching him would be equivalent to ignoring the whole game. He’s killing it out there; he’s already scored twice and it’s only a matter of time before he nails another one into the back of the net.
I pick at my thumbnail as I plan out the serious conversation him and I are going to have after the game. I need to make it abundantly clear that there’s nothing happening between us and there never will be.
This would be so much easier if he was some random guy. I've had my share of drunken kisses at some of the parties Lexie's dragged me to over the years, and it's always been incredibly simple to forget they ever happened because we never had to see each other again. There was nothing forcing us to spend time together like there is with Vaughn and me.
That’s the hardest thing. Vaughn has become not only a crucial element to my future, but also a major distraction. A sexy-as-hell distraction. The lines between my central and peripheral vision have officially been blurred when it comes to him: we’re working together, we’re good friends, and now we’ve
hooked up?
It’s all confusing the heck outta me.
I’m jerked from my thoughts when I hear the cheer of the crowd as we score another goal. I crane my neck, looking at the huddle of Warrior players gathered around the goal-scorer, waiting to see who emerges from the pack.
Please be Liam, or Parker, or Diego, or—
But of course it’s freaking Vaughn who surfaces from the group, jogging back to midfield as his teammates continue to pat him on the back and congratulate him on his third goal of the half.
The moment he gets to midfield, he faces the Windhaven side of the crowd, searching for something.
It takes me a good couple of seconds to realize he’s looking for me.
Oh jeez.
I try to hide, ducking slightly and pulling my baseball hat down low, but it’s no use. I made the idiotic decision to sit at the very top of the stands where the crowd is sparse, and finding me is equivalent to the world’s easiest page of “Where’s Waldo”.
When his gaze inevitably reaches mine, a huge smile crosses his face. He points up at me, biting down on his lip as he jogs backwards. He holds up three fingers with his other hand, and I can practically hear his cocky voice saying That hat trick was for you.
