The Hard Way: a Sports Romance

by Katie Ashley

  While the voice in my head continued telling me to get the hell out of there, my hand fumbled on the door handle. Almost in a trance, I stepped out of the car and started toward the store. It was like Avery had some magnetic pull on me that no matter how hard I tried, I was incapable of resisting.

  The sound of my knuckles rapping against the glass door caused Avery to jump. With her back to me, she called over her shoulder, “Sorry. We’re closed.”

  “It’s me. Cade.”

  Avery’s hand froze mid-swipe. Slowly, she turned around. “Cade?”

  “Yeah.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds like she was wondering if I was some sort of ghost. Finally, she tossed the rag on the counter and started over to me. After flipping the locks, she threw open the door. She did a quick head-to-toe sweep of me before shaking her head. The corners of her lips twitched. “I think you’re a tad bit overdressed for a Friday night around Rome.”

  “I just came from the winter formal.”

  Disappointment momentarily swelled in her eyes. “Oh yeah. That was tonight.” She waved me inside. “Come on in. It’s freezing.”

  After I entered the store, she locked the door behind me. When she turned back around, she crossed her arms over her chest like she was cold. I held out my tux jacket to her. “Need this?”

  She shook her head. “I’m fine. It’s not so much the cold.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I gotta say I’m a little surprised to see you, and the tux isn’t part of it.”

  My hand snaked behind my neck to tug at my hair. “Yeah, I guess things have been a little weird lately.”

  Avery jerked her chin up. “Maybe that’s because you’ve been avoiding me.”

  “No. It’s not like that. You see, I’ve had this pukey stomach thing, and then I…” When Avery pursed her lips at me, I knew there was no point in going on. She deserved the truth. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been avoiding you.”

  “Why?” she questioned softly.

  “Because I’m an asshole,” I answered honestly.

  Her brows shot up. “That’s not exactly the response I was expecting.”

  “It’s just, things got a little complicated at Thanksgiving.”

  “I’m sorry if my family came on too strong. That’s just the way they are.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not your family that was the problem.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “You.”

  She gasped. “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. In case you missed it, I kissed you Thanksgiving night.”

  “I’m aware of that, Cade.”

  “I don’t go around kissing just anybody.”

  “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure you’ve built a reputation on that.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I built a reputation on fucking, not kissing.”

  “Excuse me for being naïve, but aren’t the two related?

  “I kiss girls before I fuck them. It’s because I’m feeling something here—” I motioned to my dick, which caused Avery’s cheeks to redden. “I don’t kiss a girl because I feel something here.” I placed a hand above my heart.

  Avery blinked a few times as if she was fighting hard to process what I had just said. “So you’re feeling something for me?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  The corners of Avery’s lips twitched. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Oh, you are?”

  She bobbed her head. “I’m feeling something for you, too.”

  My chest puffed out with pride. “I figured you were.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Girls always end up feeling shit for me.”

  Avery gave me a disgusted look. “Seriously, Cade? Way to ruin a moment.” She whirled around and stomped over to the counter.

  “Wait. Shit. Don’t go.”

  “I need to finish closing up.”

  “Fuck,” I growled as I jerked a frustrated hand through my hair. After taking a few deep breaths, I walked over to stand in front of her. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? This is all new to me—uncharted territory. I’m bound to screw it up epically, but will you at least give me a chance?” A chance? Am I seriously asking her that? And holy shit, Avery feels something for me?

  Avery studied me intently, her green eyes boring into mine as if she was searching their depths for an ancient mystery. After what seemed like an eternity, Avery said, “Okay.”

  I cocked my brows at her. “Really?”

  With a small smile, she replied, “Yes, Cade. Really.”

  “Fuck yeah.” Inwardly, I was doing a victory dance like a quarterback in the end zone.

  She motioned to one of the antique barstools. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  “Thanks.”

  After I eased down onto one of the stools, Avery asked, “Hungry?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t eat much at the dance.”

  She smiled. “Your usual?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  As Avery started working on my sandwiches, I leaned my elbows on the counter. “I thought I might see you there. I mean, I hoped I would.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah.”

  She cocked her head at me. “And what would you have done if I had been there?”

  “I would have asked you to dance.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m serious.”

  Avery’s hands stilled. “You would have really paraded me around in front of your A-crowd friends?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Maybe because they would give you shit for dancing with someone like me?”

  “Fuck that. I make my own rules.” It was the truth. Because I was Cade Hall, no one would have talked shit to my face about being with Avery. Sure, they probably would have run their mouths behind my back, but no one would dare challenge me to my face.

  Avery shook her head as she poured me a Coke. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  She laughed. “Oh, I believe you. It’s more like I have trouble comprehending what an egomaniac you are.”

  I grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Of course you will.” She set the Coke down in front of me.

  “Why didn’t you go to the dance?” I asked.

  “Like anyone from Harlington would ask me.”

  I shrugged. “You could have brought someone from around here.”

  “There wasn’t anyone I wanted to go with.” Avery held my gaze for a moment before she whirled around to go over to the sink.

  “All I know is it would have been a lot better if you had been there.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask me?” Avery questioned, her back still to me.

  “I thought we already established why.” When she threw a curious glance at me over her shoulder, I replied, “Because I’m an asshole.”

  “You were an asshole. You’re working on that, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I intend to be fully rehabilitated under your tutelage.”

  Avery laughed. “Did you actually just use the word tutelage?”

  I bobbed my head. “Yup. You’re rubbing off on me.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “You’ll probably be the only one to hear it. If the guys heard me, they would revoke my man card,” I joked.

  Avery set my sandwiches down in front of me. “Speaking of your A-crowd, where are they right now?”

  “Getting wasted at Gemma Worthington’s.”

  “Is that where you were going?”

  “Yeah, I was on my way there, but then I saw the Rose Garden. and you know…”

  “You decided instead of being with your partying friends you wanted to be with me?”

  Holding her gaze, I said, “Yeah, I did. Just the idea of the same old party with drunk idiots and casual hookups made me wanna puke.” I chewed thoughtfully on my sandwich. “I’ve never felt like that about my friends before, like I was above their maturity level or some
thing.”

  “Wow,” Avery murmured.

  I laughed at how incredulous her expression was. “I know. I’m thinking I should head to the ER to have an MRI or something.”

  “Sounds like you’re having a Jake Ryan epiphany.”

  I swiped my mouth with the back of my hand, which caused Avery to pass me a napkin. “Who is Jake Ryan?”

  Avery choked on the tea she was sipping. “You’re joking, right?”

  “Nope.”

  “The hunk with a heart from the movie Sixteen Candles.” When I shook my head, she demanded, “You mean you’re not fluent in Hughes?”

  “Um, considering I barely passed French, that would be a negative.”

  “John Hughes is a filmmaking genius from the ’80s and ’90s. Besides Sixteen Candles, he did Pretty in Pink, The Breakfast Club...” At what must’ve been my continued blank stare, Avery added, “What about Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wow, I find that shocking since you and Ferris have a lot in common.”

  “Ah, so he’s a badass who makes women’s panties wet?”

  Avery wrinkled her nose. “No. It’s more about him being a popular jackass who always manages to talk his way out of trouble.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Okay, there’s only one way to remedy this urgent situation.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “We’re just going to have to watch Sixteen Candles.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here. Right now.” She swept her hands to her hips and said in a pretentious tone, “That is unless you have a more pressing social engagement to get to.”

  “No, smartass, I don’t, but what about you?”

  She rolled her eyes like I had just said the dumbest thing in the world. “You should know I have nowhere else to be but the farm.”

  “What about your mom and grandma? Won’t they be expecting you home?”

  “I’ll tell them I’m going to stay here and watch a movie with you.”

  “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? You’re mom warmed up to me at Thanksgiving, but I’m not sure how she would feel about us having alone time.” Considering how close Avery and her mom were, I wondered if she had told her about our kiss. If she had, there was no way in hell Rose would want us hanging out together.

  “Fine. I’ll just tell her I’m going to hang out at Mae’s and maybe spend the night.”

  I made a choking noise. “You mean Miss Goody Two-Shoes is going to lie to her mother?”

  Avery giggled. “It’s just a little white lie about a movie, Cade. It’s not like we’re eloping in Vegas.”

  “Fuck no! No marriage for me.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Avery said, “Thanks for clarifying.” She grabbed her phone from beneath the counter and fired off a text to her mom. After a few seconds passed, her phone dinged. “We’re good to go.”

  I grinned. “Let my education begin.”

  AVERY

  “Nice tits,” Cade mused.

  I groaned and tossed a piece of popcorn at him. We had come to the shower scene in Sixteen Candles where Samantha and her friend do the creepy stare down of Jake’s girlfriend, Caroline, in the gym shower.

  His response was to flash me a wicked grin. “I can’t believe you held out on me about the nudity. This is awesome.”

  With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “Enjoy it while it lasts because this is it.”

  “Bummer.” He took a long swig of his Coke. “I gotta say I’m a little surprised to see a teen movie flashing tits and dropping the F-bomb that isn’t rated R or something.”

  “The rating system was a little wacked in the ’80s. This came out just before PG-13.”

  I readjusted the pillow behind my head. Cade and I were sprawled out on a rug from the 1920s in front of a giant armoire from the ’40s watching Netflix on a TV from 2014. A while back, my mom had decided to keep a TV in one of the armoires for times when business was slow. She had made sure it was hidden away from prying eyes by other pieces of furniture so anyone who walked by couldn’t see that she was just chilling watching TV.

  “I can’t imagine my mom ever forgetting my birthday,” I mused about Samantha’s plight.

  Cade snorted. “I sure as hell can. I’m sure if my dad’s secretary didn’t send them reminders, they would totally forget.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  His parents’ callousness caused my heart to hurt. “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  Cade kept his eyes on the screen “Not your fault, Prescott, so don’t be apologizing.”

  “I know it’s not my fault, but I can still hate the way they treat you. That happens when you care about someone.”

  He flicked his gaze over to mine. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

  I smiled. “I’m glad.”

  By the time the movie ended, we had polished off a six-pack of Coke, four bowls of popcorn, and some of the leftover banana bread we’d served in the store that day. As I started cleaning up, Cade stretched his arms over his head. “That was a pretty cool movie, Prescott.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “And I agree that I’m totally Jake Ryan.”

  I laughed. “I didn’t say you were Jake Ryan; I said you were having a Jake Ryan moment when you realized you didn’t want to hang out with your immature friends.”

  “Um, I think I have all the qualifications of being Jake Ryan. I’m rich, handsome, popular”—he swept his hand to his chest—“and I have a deeper, sensitive side.”

  “Which you don’t really show that much.”

  Cade waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’m a work in progress.” He started helping me dry the dishes. “There’s only one problem I have with the movie.”

  “The fact that there weren’t graphic sex scenes?” I suggested.

  He chuckled. “While that was certainly a bummer, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then what?”

  “The happy ending.”

  I frowned at him. “What kind of person hates a happy ending?”

  “It’s not so much that I hate the happy ending—I’m glad Jake wised up and got with Samantha—it’s more about the fact that it leaves you hanging. Like how does everyone at school take Samantha and Jake as a couple? Does Caroline get shit when she shows up at school with part of her hair chopped off? Does she start speaking to the nerd guy when she sees him in the hallway since they spent the night together in that car?”

  I blinked at him. “Wow, I never thought about any of that.”

  “Guess I’m too much of a realist.”

  “While I was too caught up in the happy-ending aspect.” I bent over to put the popcorn bowls up when I knocked a bottle out of the cabinet. “Crap,” I muttered as it rolled to a stop at Cade’s feet.

  “Is that wine?”

  “Yeah. It’s homemade muscadine. My mom used to keep it displayed because of the antique bottle it’s in, but then everyone kept wanting to buy it, so she put it away.”

  Cade’s brows popped. “Homemade? For real?”

  “Yep. My grandfather used to make it from the muscadine vines that grew along the pasture. Want to try some?”

  A teasing gleam burned in Cade’s eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me, Prescott?”

  As if I would even have a clue as to how to do that. “Were my motives that obvious?”

  Cade grinned. “Fine, I’ll have some—on one condition.”

  “You have a condition?”

  He nodded. “You have to drink with me.”

  Oh man. I hadn’t expected that one. Sure, I’d had a sip or two of wine during the holidays and at church during communion, but I’d never sat down and actually had a glass. “Um, okay.”

  With a snort, Cade said, “Prescott, you disappoint me with how easily you cave to peer pressure.”

  “I’ve had wine before.” At his pointed look, I added, “Just not a lot.”


  “Have you ever been drunk?”

  I shook my head.

  “I can’t say I’m surprised by that.” He jerked his chin at the bottle. “Pour it up.”

  Since we didn’t have any wine glasses on hand, I had to use some of the teacups. After pouring them almost full, I handed one to Cade and then took one myself. Cade clinked his to mine. “Here’s to us.”

  As I brought the cup to my lips, the beat of my heart thrummed wildly. Was that a generic toast like to us as people, or did it mean more like us as a couple? The giant question mark hanging over us was so frustrating. Although I knew I should be cautious, I still couldn’t help the feelings I had for Cade. They had been growing stronger and stronger over the last few months, and after Thanksgiving, I knew he felt something for me.

  After taking a few sips, Cade said, “It’s good.”

  “I’ve always liked it, but it’s not like I would really know the difference.”

  “Well, it really is good, and my opinion means something since I have extensive wine knowledge.”

  I grinned. “I should have known you would be a wine connoisseur among your other talents.”

  “It was my parents who started me off. They took my sister and me to Paris with them when I was seven. The wine is kind of free flowing there, so I made sure to have my fill.” At what must’ve been my horrified look, he added, “I didn’t get drunk, Prescott.”

  “Oh, good,” I replied in relief. I couldn’t help judging Cade’s parents a little for letting him have wine at seven years old.

  Cade refilled our cups before walking over to the antique side of the store. He stopped in front of one of the marble-top tables then threw a glance over his shoulder at me. “Is this one of those old-timey record players?”

  “A Victrola,” I answered as I joined him.

  Cade snapped his fingers. “That’s right. There was one of these at my grandparents’ house.” He eyed the contraption curiously. “Does it work?”

  “Sure.” I set my cup down before winding up the crank. Then I placed the needle on the record, and a slow instrumental tune came out of the Victrola’s horn. At Cade’s groan, I grinned. “Not a fan of classical music?”

  “No. It’s more about the fact that it’s one of Strauss’s waltzes.”

  Cocking my brows at him, I asked, “You know Strauss?”