by McKinley May
She takes another huge bite. “I’ll say. Does she cook for you a lot?”
“She brings meals around constantly. Without her we’d be living off ramen and pepperoni pizza. She’s basically the team nutritionist at this point.”
Rayne scratches her chin. “Any chance I could join the team? Pull a She’s the Man?”
Before I can tell her she’s way too hot to disguise herself as a dude, a cheer from Weston as he scores yet another goal grabs our attention.
“You are shit at this game, Cam. Bow down, bitch.”
Cameron reaches over and slaps the controller out of Weston’s hands.
“At least I’m a boss in reality and not just as some 3D Messi, Casanova. I fucking hate this game.” He tosses me his controller. “I’m forfeiting. You guys are up.”
Rayne hops up and grabs Weston’s controller off the ground. I flash an innocent smile in her direction.
“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll go easy on you.”
She smirks. “Not necessary.”
Forty-five minutes later, Cameron, Weston, and I are staring at the screen, mouths gaping after watching Rayne beat me three times in a row.
No...beat’s not the right word. Completely smash, absolutely annihilate, stomp me into the dirt are far better ways to describe what just happened.
This girl is a FIFA aficionado. I wouldn’t even think twice if she told me she moonlights as a professional gamer.
“Damn, baby. I’m ready to propose right here and now. Would you like to be Mrs. Rayne Paine?” Weston cracks as he eyeballs her in astonishment. “Seriously though, nobody ever beats Steel.”
She lets out an easygoing laugh, unaware of the gravity of her feat. “Just call me Nobody then.” She sets her controller down and seems to notice our shocked expressions for the first time. “You can’t tell me he’s the best out of all of you guys. Come on. He sucks.”
"Whoa, whoa," I interject, throwing my hands in the air. “It’s rude not to let the guest win. I was trying to be a gentleman.”
Cameron grins. “Keep telling yourself that, man. Whatever makes you feel better after getting your ass handed to you by Sportscaster Girl.”
Rayne pulls out her phone and notices the time. “As much as I’d love to stay and embarrass you four times in a row, I should probably head back. It’s getting late.”
I stand up and walk her to the door after she exchanges goodbyes with the guys, both of whom are still staring at her like she walks on water. She definitely won them over, no doubt about that.
I open the front door for her and she turns to me, a puzzled look on her face.
“You know, this ended up not being as horrible as I thought it would be.”
“Wow, thanks. That means a lot,” I say sarcastically.
“I mean, I still kinda hate you—”
I clutch at my heart dramatically, and she rolls her eyes before continuing.
“—but maybe this whole thing will be alright.”
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’ll be more than alright, Raynie. It’s going to be the best damn article anyone’s ever read. I can guarantee it.”
“I’ll text you plans for next time.” She looks hesitant, as if she’s not sure what to do next. She finally holds out her hand for a goodbye handshake and I take it, my hand swallowing her smooth, petite one.
We say goodbye and I shut the door, heading back inside.
I really hope Cameron and Weston are still in the living room. My bruised ego needs a serious boost after losing three times in a row, and I know for a fact they don’t hold a candle to Rayne’s game.
9
“You’re late.”
The second I put my car into park and open the door, Jessica’s standing right in front of me, arms crossed over her purple razorback tank top and lips curled into a scowl. She looks beyond me into my passenger seat.
“And where’s Lexie?”
I hop out and fling the door shut. “Sorry. I got back late last night and crawling out of bed this morning was a major struggle.”
I stretch my arms and reach down to touch my toes. I lock my car as we begin walking towards the dirt trail ahead.
“And Lex wasn’t even back when I got home. When I went to knock on her door this morning there was a note saying she would meet us at Juice Bar.”
A look of worry passes over Jessica’s face. “You think she’s okay?”
I nod assuredly. “You know how she is. Also, this wouldn’t be the first time she’s skipped the workout but had no problem showing up afterwards for the refueling.”
We laugh and continue along the trail, the bright rays of sunlight illuminating the path before us.
Our Sunday morning runs around Lake Winnie are a monthly tradition between Jessica, Lexie, and myself that we started freshman year.
We all get busier and busier as the semester goes on, and it can be hard to find the time for all three of us to hangout and catch up. Jessica came up with the idea of getting together at the lake once a month and we all agreed. She initially suggested a sunrise start time because apparently she's a freaking masochist, but Lexie and I fought her hard on it. We’d ended up compromising on 9:00 am—which I still think is too damn early for a weekend, but it’s a hell of a lot better than the ass crack of dawn.
We walk a bit further, warming up our muscles. Once we hit the gorgeous lake view, we begin jogging.
Almost immediately I feel the stresses of class, the newspaper, and my future fade away for the time being. I concentrate solely on my breathing and the soothing sound of my feet padding against the dirt in a constant rhythm.
I feel more relaxed than usual today because for the first time since I was assigned the Vaughn article, I’m convinced he won’t screw this up for me.
Although last night got off on the wrong foot with a heated phone call followed by an unwanted striptease attempt in his bedroom, once I got him to sit down and focus on the task at hand, he gave me some pretty good answers.
Some great answers, as a matter of fact.
He was easy to talk to, charismatic, and—dare I say it—a little bit funny. It’s crazy to think that just a few years ago he was a ticking time bomb during interviews.
Because the guy I talked to last night?
A total charmer.
Vaughn may thrive on his dumb jock, bad boy reputation, but yesterday he gave me a glimmer of hope that there might be more depth to him than I thought.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still think he’s a conceited asshole, though. I’m not giving him the benefit of the doubt just yet. We’ll see how long he can keep the good guy schtick up.
The two miles around the lake finally come to an end, and the relaxation I felt at the beginning of the run has transformed into utter exhaustion. I feel like walking death. The September sun beats down mercilessly on my back, sending me straight to a water fountain to quench my thirst.
Jessica jogs up beside me, chipper and awake, and I groan. While I look a complete mess, sweaty and red-faced, Jess looks like she just took a leisurely stroll around an air-conditioned mall.
The fact that she considers this her “easy run” day and I consider this my hardest workout of the week is evident when looking at the two of us.
Luckily, Juice Bar is only a five minute walk away, so I manage to make it there without my jello legs giving out. Once we arrive, we spot Lexie sitting at our usual table: the slightly wobbly one that sits in front of a massive window overlooking the deep blue waters of the lake. She’s already sipping a green smoothie and scrolling through her phone.
“Nice of you to show up,” Jessica teases as she pulls out a squeaky chair and takes a seat.
Lexie takes a long slurp and sets her cup down noisily. She looks at us and I can tell she has something juicy to share when I see her eyes dancing.
“I was at the hospital until three in the morning.”
“What?! Oh my God, Lex. Why didn’t you say so? Now I feel lik
e a bitch,” Jessica says, guilt in her eyes.
I inspect Lexie up and down, examining her for signs of injury. “Are you okay? What happened? Why didn’t you call me?”
She waves a hand in the air, brushing off our concerns. “Oh, not me, don’t worry. I’m fine. It was Pierre. Five minutes into our knife class, the boy almost cut off his thumb. And he thinks culinary school is in his future? I’m sorry, but finger fragments in your entrees are not going to be getting you any Michelin stars.”
Jessica gasps and says exactly what I'm thinking. “Eww!”
Lexie takes another sip before continuing. “It was wild. The instructor fainted and most of the other students sprinted out of there as fast as they could. He’s lucky I’ve seen so much blood and gore while shadowing in the ER that it doesn’t phase me at all. We wrapped his hand up and I drove him to the closest emergency clinic.”
I shiver in disgust, thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t me in that situation. If I was there, the instructor wouldn’t be the only one out cold on the ground.
“Is he okay?” I question.
She nods. “Totally fine. I got to watch them stitch him back up which was cool. His insurance covered everything, and he’ll regain full movement within a few months.”
Suddenly, she smiles. “You know, we actually had good conversation in the waiting room. He was hilarious—granted that was probably due to the wooziness from all the blood loss. I told him it was the most exciting date I’ve been on in a long time.”
Jessica playfully smacks her on the shoulder. “You’re sick, you know that?”
Lexie shrugs. “I’m just being honest.”
Before we can get anymore details on her disaster date, a friendly waitress wearing a lime green apron the same color as Lexie’s drink walks up to our table.
“What can I get you girls?”
Jessica and I both order our regulars, mine with an extra shot of caffeine.
As I’m attempting to stifle a yawn, Jess looks at me suspiciously.
“And why exactly were you up so late, Rayne?”
Lexie joins in, giving me the side eye. “You went out last night after interviewing Steel Blue?”
I rub my eyes and try to think of another reason for being out late.
Someone’s birthday party?
No, they’d ask for too many details.
Studying at the library?
Even I wouldn’t be working until one in the morning on a Saturday.
Went out for drinks downtown by myself?
Ha. They’d be more willing to believe I was the heir to a royal fortune than that one.
I frown, blaming my half-asleep brain for even mentioning I was out late and decide that I might as well tell the truth. It’s not like anything happened, so why the hell am I so reluctant to tell them?
The waitress brings over our orders, and I take my sweet time drinking the first sip.
My best friends glare at me, impatiently awaiting my answer. I let out a deep breath.
“Actually, I was at Steel’s pretty late.”
They both exchange wide-eyed glances and I roll my eyes.
“For interview purposes. Get your minds out of the gutter.”
Lexie furrows her brows. “That’s one long-ass interview, Rayne.”
Jessica looks at me in disbelief.
I rest my elbows on the table, propping my head up with my hands. “I swear, nothing happened. I mean, I did walk in on him in only a towel, but—”
They both squeal like freakin’ pigs in a mud pit, causing the other customers to glance over at our table in annoyance.
I put a finger to my lips and shush them. “Chill, you two. Would it kill you to not cause a scene?”
“Sorry, but you need to spill the details! You can’t drop something like that on us and not expect a reaction!” Jessica and Lexie are both staring at me intently, their forgotten drinks pushed aside.
I look out the window at the people paddle boarding and kayaking on the water, wishing I was down there instead of up here trapped in this stupid conversation.
Only because I don’t have any other choice, I turn back to their eager expressions and fill them in on the events that took place the night before. I make sure to insist that everything was platonic, because it totally was. Still, I can feel my cheeks burn when I revisit the topic of his wet, practically naked body just feet away from me.
When I’m finished, Jessica sighs dreamily and Lexie shakes her head before scolding me. “Rayne Everett, do you know how lucky you are? I bet girls would kill to have been in your situation last night!”
Knitting my brows together, I lay it out clear as day for them. “I’m not interested in him like that. At all. Sure, he’s hot, but being a Vaughn Steel one-night stand is not a priority on my to-do list. I don’t even want to be friends with the guy. All I need from him is an internship-worthy article and that’s it. This is a professional relationship between the two of us.”
Thankfully, the conversation comes to a close when Jessica spots someone across the room. She jumps up, grabbing her phone.
“That girl’s outfit is fab. I hope she’s a student because I need her in my weekly column!” She runs off to beg the girl for a picture and outfit details.
I turn all my focus to sucking up the last sips of my drink, avoiding looking across the table where I know Lexie is still staring me down.
After there’s absolutely nothing left in my cup, I slowly raise my head.
Yep, there it is. That devious Lexie-grin. Head tilted down, lips pulled into a grinch-like snarl, one eye opened wider than the other.
It’s sorta disgusting, honestly.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I shut that down real quick. “Nope. I don’t want to hear whatever you’re about to say. I can see it on your face, and I know I’m not going to like it. So keep that evil mouth shut.”
We sit there for sixty seconds in silence before she just can’t help herself anymore.
“You should’ve ripped that towel right off him when you had the chance and taken a look at what that man is packing down below.”
I throw my empty cup at her and stand up from my seat. I try to hold it in, but I can’t help cracking up at her crude comment.
“Fuck off, Lexie!”
10
Practice Monday night comes to a close as we finish with my favorite of all drills: one on ones in the box. While I’ve got the speed and shooting accuracy to be a great striker, it’s my ability to take on defenders and send them diving in the wrong direction that really sets me apart from other players.
My slick footwork has earned me a lot over the years: a never-ending line of women at my doorstep, the coveted “Big Man on Campus” title, and recognition on a national level.
But the best thing about it? Hands down has got to be the downright orgasmic feeling I get from pulling the moves and juking out players left and right.
Trust me, there’s nothing more satisfying than absolutely dominating a defender and watching their face drop as you nail the ball into the back of the net.
“Last one, boys!” Coach hollers from midfield. Weston kicks me the ball from behind the goal post and runs up in an attempt to stop me. Because he’s by far our best defender, he’s usually the one most willing to take me on. He claims it’s not that hard to tell which way I’m taking him because I’m so “easy to read”.
Poor dude must be illiterate then, because I always kick his ass.
“Whatchu got, Steel Blue?” He jogs up, leaving a small amount of space between us as I trap the ball and dribble forward. “You got nothing, that’s what!”
I crack a smile as the ball travels between my bright white cleats. “Your trash talk game is weak, bro. Please tell me you have more in store for the SMU game tomorrow. Or is your plan to spit such lame shit they fall over laughing and can’t get up?”
He ignores me and continues shuffling backwards from left to right, trying to decipher which direction I’m gonna go
.
“Come at me, V. Pick a side; doesn’t matter which because I got you either way. Nobody gets past the Paine Machine.”
I cut the ball to the right and pick up the pace, but he’s right there with me, preventing me from taking a shot on goal.
“Nah, can’t go that way, man. Not today.”
I place my foot on top of the ball and lean into him with my shoulder, blocking him from poking it out.
He pushes hard against my back. “Nowhere to go now, Steel. I’ve got you covered all night.”
