Kick (Completion Series)

by Holly S. Roberts

  “This is when you can let you hair down a bit and enjoy the stodgy contributors doing the same thing. I’ve found if I let loose a little they’re more likely to do the same thing and I’ll get a better story.”

  So we danced and laughed. I drank too much champagne after Trett promised to protect me from unwelcome advances. He remained sober so he could drive, and he dropped me at my apartment at midnight.

  “Write up a few things and email them to me. I’ll cover this story, use our combined thoughts, and give you an idea of what we need. You’ll fly solo and bring your own date to the next one.”

  I didn’t tell him I had no date. My heart was playing in the championship game next Saturday and he would never give me the time of day again. I had a great evening, but when I lay in bed the tears fell. I didn’t think the ache in my chest would ever disappear, and the championship game was now six days away.

  I cleaned my apartment on Sunday after picking up a latte. With my new assignment at the paper, I received a pay raise that would now cover lattes three days a week. I emptied my change into the boob jar wondering if I could even go through with the surgery now. Money wise it was still years away, and Carmen, my Ford, would eventually need replacing. The boob jar would remain, but I would leave my options open. I turned the radio to a pop station and did my housework listening to today’s top music.

  After my apartment was spotless, I settled down to write about the previous evening. I emailed what I had to Trett and noticed over fifty emails in my inbox. The only name that stuck out was Stub’s.

  Cami,

  Received the camera. Photos are wonderful. You have a hidden talent. We missed you at Saturday’s game and celebration. Rumors are flying about you. A fight broke out at the bar when someone said something within Van’s hearing. Maybe that boy has a hidden soft spot that I never saw before. Woo girl, you have some explaining to do.

  Stub

  Van defended my honor, not Joel. He probably believed any bad rumors concerning me. Van getting into a fight over me was beyond shocking and made no sense.

  The championship game was in Seattle and I planned to sneak in and sneak out with no one knowing I was there. I could easily write a story from the stadium seats. I knew seeing Joel would break my heart again, but I wanted one last look at him while he played.

  I began checking the other emails and realized quickly they were all from rugby fans. My second article ran today. I received no fan mail from the previous week, but today was a different story. I started reading.

  You took everything I feel about rugby and put it into words, thank you.

  It’s amazing to see someone touch the sport like your words have.

  You’ve turned me into a fan.

  They all continued in the same vein. There were two more segments to follow, and I wondered what the response would be as readers came to know some of the team’s personal struggles. Before I closed my laptop, I pulled up the image of Joel standing in the locker room. Sliding my fingers over the screen, I tried forgetting his hands on my body and his heart beating against mine.

  Like that was ever going to happen.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Miller called me into his office on Wednesday.

  “Charles Woodrow from The Colt Sentinel has requested to run your series in his local paper. We have a set price for requests like this and you’ll receive compensation too. I wanted to let you know before you left for the championship.”

  Charlie. And probably Stub. I felt bad they had to pay for my work, but also thrilled it would run in Colt. I’d promised Estella a copy of the articles and now she would have them through the local paper. I left Miller’s office and went by the second floor to see if Kathy was ready for lunch. I alternated lunch between Kathy’s click and Trett and JJ. I no longer buried my face in a book during my breaks. Every now and then shyness pushed its ugly head up, but I shook it off and each day became easier. Sad that I was twenty-three before I was able to do it.

  My plane flew out on Friday morning. I took a cab to the hotel, ordered room service, and took a nap after I ate. I had notes and recordings to go through for a charity event taking place the following week and could do them after I woke up. Nights were the hardest time for me and I had trouble sleeping. After the championship match, I would attempt a regular sleeping schedule, but right now thoughts of seeing Joel in person were keeping me awake.

  An hour later, I gave up the nap idea. I had a particularly boring file playing on my recorder when someone knocked at my hotel room door. I looked out the peephole and Van stood there. What the hell? I wasn’t sure I could handle Van, but I knew I needed to face him. New Cami didn’t run from her problems.

  He was lifting his hand to knock again when I opened the door. His bad-boy grin flashed. “I didn’t think you would answer.”

  He looked so good because he looked so much like Joel. Added to the effect was his tight t-shirt and mussed hair. But no scar for me to tenderly run my fingers over. I crumpled.

  “Come here, baby.” His arms circled me. They weren’t the arms I needed, but it felt so good to have someone holding me up.

  My tears soaked his t-shirt. “I’m sorry. I feel so stupid,” I blubbered into his chest.

  He walked me backward until he could shut the door while keeping his arms around me. “Shh, don’t apologize.”

  I finally managed to move back a few feet and wipe my eyes in embarrassment. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to take you to dinner, but saw the tray outside your door and figured I’m too late. Doesn’t matter as long as you don’t mind me ordering something to the room.”

  I shook my head. “Van, this won’t work. I don’t know how you got my location or my room number, but you need to leave.”

  Instead of leaving he took a step closer. “I want to try an experiment and need your cooperation. You game?”

  He was out of his mind. “You’re crazy. What kind of experiment?”

  “This.” I was back in his arms with his lips on mine before I knew how it happened. Van’s kiss was everything I remembered—possessive, passionate, and exciting. It was all wrong. I didn’t fight him off, but I didn’t respond either. He lifted his mouth and looked down at me with a small grin. “That proves it,” he whispered against my lips. “You and I are good friend material. I’ve never had a girl as a friend and I’ll probably be really bad at it. You’ll catch me staring at your tits and making inappropriate sexual comments, but if you slap me enough times I may come around.” He placed one last, small kiss on my forehead and released me.

  “You’re serious?”

  “As serious as winning the championship tomorrow.”

  Things were changing so fast my head was spinning. “What brought this on?” I asked suspiciously.

  “My brother’s in love with you. I’m not. Don’t get me wrong. I like you and your amazing tits.” That had me laughing. “I’m not ready to settle down and stop playing the field, so the two of us won’t work. It may be hard for you to get over me.” Now he gave his fuck-me smile. “I get that, but my brother’s the one for you.”

  “You goof. I don’t see your brother looking twice at me again.” Just the thought of Joel had my chest aching again.

  “We’ll fix that. He’s not happy with either of us at the moment, but I’ve been pressing his buttons every chance I get. He’s stubborn, but with a little push, I’ll get his head straight. Now, seriously, I need food.” He walked over and sat on my bed while picking up the phone and placing an order with room service. After putting the phone down, he kicked back against my pillow.

  I gave him my mean look, but it didn’t deter him. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I pulled a chair over and plopped down. “I want a play-by-play of last week’s game. It sucked watching it on my computer.”

  We talked rugby until the food arrived. Van could put away as much food as Joel. I fought asking anything about his brother, but questioned him about the other players—Mike
, Elf, and the rest.

  He told me what was happening in their immediate rugby world, but saw straight through my smoke screen. “You gonna ask about Joel?”

  “No.” I wouldn’t. I didn’t know if I could handle it without crying again.

  “He’s miserable. Haven’t seen my brother like this since our Mom died. He’s always been the introspective one. He doesn’t show his emotions like me. He blames himself about the accident and never let it go.” Van ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. The unconscious action reminded me so much of Joel.

  “Why would he blame himself?”

  His blue eyes considered me for a moment before he responded. “He was driving. Christ.” There was so much pain in his voice.

  “What happened?” I asked softly.

  Van’s forearm covered his eyes and I knew this wasn’t easy for him. “A man ran a stoplight and t-boned my mom’s car. He was texting on a fucking cell phone. He had a wife and kids waiting at home for him and ruined all our lives so he could let his wife know he was on his way. It was hard not to push for prosecution, but Joel wouldn’t let me. We were both underage and our lives in chaos. The steering wheel crushed the left side of Joel’s face. He had multiple surgeries. Even as pathetic as it sounds, I was so angry with him. I know it’s stupid, but I kept thinking if I were driving I could have avoided what happened. Joel had an entire year more driving experience than me, but that’s where my crazy thoughts took me. Damn, I said that aloud.” He lifted his arm and turned his head to me. “Don’t cry.”

  I was a basket case. You would think with all my tears since I’d left Joel, there would be nothing left. I was wrong. Van’s story was breaking my heart all over again. I’d never asked Joel about his scar. I figured he would tell me when he was ready. Van pulled me onto the bed and back into his arms.

  “Friends don’t do this,” I mumbled against his chest again.

  “Sure they do. I was cuddling with Elf while he cried just last night.”

  Laughter mixed with my tears.

  “You might not want to do that with your tits against my chest. If I get a hard-on it’s only because they’re tits, and well… I’m a man.”

  I groaned in frustration because Van would never change. I had to finally ask the question that burned in my brain for weeks. “Van… why me? Why was I sent to cover The Slam?”

  He remained unnaturally quiet.

  “It’s bad isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, baby, it’s bad.”

  “I’m a big girl… woman… not a baby. And that word needs to stop.”

  A small burst of laughter came from Van. “I’m coming to terms with too many things tonight—girl that’s a friend, I can’t touch your tits, and I’m spilling my guts like a pussy. You’re asking a lot.”

  “You’re changing the subject.”

  “It was a stupid bet with my dad. I jokingly requested a female reporter when he mentioned he had a contact that might be able to gain us some media coverage. He said he would be sure to send a female, but one I couldn’t seduce.” He rolled so he faced me. “I said if she was between the ages of eighteen and sixty I’d take the bet and prove him wrong. I spoke to my dad last week and according to him you were supposed to be married and pregnant. What’s up with that?”

  It all clicked into place. I didn’t know if I should be furious or laugh hysterically. “I hate to ask how much my virginity was worth.”

  “Fuck.” Van jumped out of bed so fast you’d think it caught fire. The look on his face was priceless.

  I couldn’t stop my laughter from exploding into the room. “Your face…” I rolled and grabbed a pillow, placing it against my stomach. “You are such a dirt bag.” I laughed some more.

  “Ha ha, funny.” He sat down next to me, grabbed the pillow, and threw it at my head. “You were worth a quarter.”

  I stopped laughing. “I’ll kill you.”

  “Well that might happen anyway, but I’ll never tell you how much the bet was for. I’ll admit to being shocked at what you hid under those hideous clothes. I may let my dad pick women for me on a continual basis.” He lay back beside me and took my hand. A while later, Van ordered me dessert, but ended up eating it himself after I poked it with my fork a few times.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said after finishing the chocolate cake.

  Oh this should be good. “What did you do now?”

  “For the night at the house. I purposely made sure you were drunk.”

  “We don’t need to talk about this.” It was actually the last thing I wanted to hear about.

  “I’m sorry.” It was a sincere apology.

  I gave a long sigh. “I wasn’t that drunk. Now, can we move past bets and apologies and never speak of this again?”

  The bad-boy grin came back. “I’d probably play better tomorrow if you gave me a pity fuck.” I threw my napkin at him. “You can’t fault me for trying,” he said with a laugh.

  This side of Van was so different from what I’d seen before. Still a player and total bad boy, but there was something sweet about him too. I didn’t need to question him about defending me in the bar. I had my answer. It made me sad that I wouldn’t be around when that special woman came along and took him to his knees.

  We talked about trivial things, just enjoying each other’s company until almost eleven. He was staying with the team a block away and walked to my hotel to see me. He took off after making me promise I would be at the after-game celebration. Like Joel, there was no room in Van’s thinking for defeat. The Slam was winning this match and I believed him. He hugged me goodbye.

  It sucked that I would miss him and not just his brother. I fell asleep thinking about Joel’s lips with the slightly puckered corner. God I missed him.

  Chapter Thirty

  I made it through the crowd at the stadium and found my seat. Green shirts surrounded me, but a few rows back red covered a larger section. I was glad I didn’t recognize anyone. Van made coming here easier, but I knew the gossip spread about me was nothing good. The excitement today was at a higher level than the previous matches. Television crews were here. Van mentioned ESPN was televising the match on one of their many stations. For U.S. Rugby League, this was the main event.

  I jumped up and down at the first kick when Van caught the ball and started the attack down field. After their fifth tackle, The Slam ended up with a one-point drop goal. Seattle’s team, The Tide, came back with a try and successful conversion totaling six points.

  No one in the stadium stayed in their seats for long. The intensity of the match was brutal. Van didn’t get up for several minutes after a particularly nasty hit, but Joel finally helped him gain his feet and they resumed play. At the half, The Slam was down by three. I bought water from a vender walking down the aisle, refusing to stand in line and miss any play. The wave came around and I yelled along with everyone else. I barely remembered my feelings of idiocy at the first match I attended. I was a die-hard fan now.

  Play resumed and ten minutes into the second half The Slam scored a try, taking them up by one. Quibly kicked the conversion and added another two points. The Tide came back with a try and we were down again.

  The Slam had to win.

  I yelled until my voice was hoarse and then yelled some more. With two minutes of play remaining, The Slam was still behind. Joel made an awesome pass and received a late tackle. Joel, as team captain, decided on six tackles for a try instead of taking a penalty kick. This meant their tackle count, which is limited to six, starts over. A try and conversion kick would put them in the lead. I could see Joel yelling and players scrambling. I knew they practiced for these situations, but until the play continued it was hard to make out their formation. DJ fell back and caught the first pass. He threw it to Joel, who charged for the goal. Several players were coming at him, and at the last minute, he tossed the ball back to Van. One of the opposing players almost stopped the attack, but Van jumped up and forward, grounding the ball on the try
line.

  My voice croaked no matter how loud I tried to scream. “Slam, Slam, Slam.” The fans were going crazy. Twenty-six seconds later, the final whistle blew. The Slam were the U.S. Rugby League champions.

  The man next to me patted my back. “Great game,” he said with a smile.

  I grinned from ear to ear. “Thanks, that was a great game.”

  I’d taken a taxi to the stadium and knew it would be awhile before I could catch one back to the hotel. I checked my cell. There was a text from Charlie.

  Charlie: Van says you’re coming to the party. Meet me and Stub out front and grab a ride with us.

  I did a short happy dance unable to hold in all my feelings.

  Me: On my way

  Charlie and Stub wrapped me in huge hugs when I saw them. “What a game,” Stub said after Charlie put me down.

  “I’ve missed you both so much.” I had. Yes, I had friends at my job now, but Charlie and Stub were more than friends. I felt entirely at home with them. They made me feel part of their family.

  Charlie drove his rental car while Stub grilled me with questions. I told them all about my promotion, my new co-workers, and my plans for the future. The same plans I’d dreamed of for years.

  “So Van isn’t in your future?” Stub asked softly.

  They deserved the truth. “Van was never in my future. We’re friends, though I doubt his brother will ever believe that.” I knew he wouldn’t. He heard I loved Van. The fact that I put a disclaimer on the statement by saying “a little bit” was beside the point.

  The bar was only a short distance away. We beat the bus by thirty minutes, and my nervousness grew.

  “We’ll talk later,” Stub whispered to me when we got out of the car.

  I suddenly remembered something I had wanted to ask Stub. “How did you get your nickname?”