by McKinley May
She name-drops a few big players from the early 2000's that have my mouth gaping before she continues on.
“Anyway, our headquarters are located just thirty minutes north of here. We'll be launching in the next few weeks.”
“That's great,” I say politely, still puzzled at how I play into all of this.
“For our first issue, we've been working on a few articles on the top sports at Windhaven. We were on campus this past week interviewing Coach Hanson from the men's soccer team when Vaughn interrupted, refusing to leave until we read your feature.”
My eyes bug open. “He did?”
Her head bobs up and down. “He was very insistent, so I obliged. I have to say, I was incredibly impressed. You have a raw, natural talent for writing.”
“That means a lot. Thank you,” I say, unable to keep myself from beaming out of every pore.
“I would be honored to publish your piece in our first issue. If that's okay with you.”
“Wow. Yeah, definitely,” I squeak out.
After all of the hard work I put into that thing, it'd be nice if it could get some recognition. Especially because it may be the last article I ever write.
“Fabulous! There will be fair compensation for you, of course.” She smiles before dropping yet another bomb. “I’d also love to take you on as my intern next semester. I know you'll be busy with classes, so we could start with part-time hours. If it's a good fit—which I'm fairly certain it will be—we could bump it up to full-time next summer. I think you'd make an excellent addition to our team.”
My heart leaps in my chest, an excitement I can neither control nor deny taking over my entire being. An excitement I know I'll never have for any other job.
But as much as I want to accept her offer, I know I can't. Not if they're going to be a carbon-copy of every other sports station out there.
She sense my hesitation and shoots me a reassuring smile. “Vaughn mentioned you were concerned with the direction sports media has taken lately. Here at On the Court, we think sports are dramatic enough on their own. No gossip necessary.” She winks. “Also, I believe we have a unique perspective here. The majority of our employees have been on the other side of the interview, so there's a bit more empathy and consideration when it comes to questions asked.”
Her eyes fly over me in a subtle once-over. “Mr. Steel also mentioned you may be interested in sideline reporting.” Red curls bounce as she vigorously nods her head. “He was absolutely right; the camera would love you. If you're interested, we could set you up to train with one of our sideline reporters as well.”
I'm trying to take in all the information at once, process everything that's happening, but it's all so much. The only response I can manage is a wide-eyed nod and a toothy grin.
She reaches into her bag for a moment before pulling out a small business card. Holding it out to me, she says, “I’ll be in contact soon with more details. I really hope you'll consider the position.” I take the card as she hikes her purse back up her shoulder. “And be on the lookout for your article in two weeks.”
I finally find my voice, though it's slightly high-pitched with disbelief. “Thank you so much. It was great talking with you.”
I wave as she walks off, her heels clicking methodically against the gym floor.
I'm still staring at the business card in awe when Vaughn reappears, grinning from ear to ear.
“So? What do you think? Would you be interested in working at a place like that?” he asks, attempting to gauge my reaction.
When I don't respond immediately, concern clouds his face. “I checked extensively with them about the way they're going to do things there, and I swear, Raynie, they're not going to ask you to do anything you don't want to do. It's focused on sports and sports alone. I'm positive you'd love it there, babe.”
I glance up at his determined expression.
“Vaughn,” I begin, but he's still rambling on like a maniac.
“—and I know you're trying to convince the world and yourself that you wanna be a fucking accountant, but Jesus Christ, Rayne, I know you don't. You were born to be a sports reporter, and you're crazy if you think I'm going to sit back and let you forget it, and—”
“Vaughn!” I yell, finally snapping him from his endless spiel.
He looks at me sheepishly. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. I can't believe you did this for me. Seriously, this is perfect.”
His eyes gleam. “So you'll take the position?”
I nod enthusiastically and he responds by lifting me into his grasp.
I wrap my arms and legs around his body, holding onto him like a koala to bamboo as he twirls me around. And yeah, I'm aware we look like the quintessential sappy love couple that can't keep their PDA to themselves, but I don't care. All I care about is having him back.
“Damn, I've missed this,” he mumbles as we come to a halt. “Missed having you in my arms.” He gently squeezes my waist. “Missed those pouty little lips.” He leans in, warm mouth on mine in a sweet kiss that leaves me breathless. “Missed your sarcastic, snappy remarks. Well…” One brow arches high. “Maybe not those.”
“Oh, shut up,” I tease. I reach out and tenderly muss up his hair. “You love my sassiness. Don't even lie.”
He grins and concedes. “Yeah, you're right. I do love it.”
“I love you,” I mutter before leaning in for another fleeting kiss.
“Everyday I've spent without you has been Mondayish, baby,” Vaughn mutters against my lips. Metallic blue eyes swim with warmth as he pulls back. “And it freakin' sucked.”
I laugh and gently rub the back of his neck. “Mondayish?”
He nods. “Yep. Synonyms include, but are not limited to, horrible, shitty, borderline unbearable. I think it has a nice ring to it,” he says before giving me the cutest damn smile I've ever seen.
“I couldn't agree more.”
Epilogue
Two Weeks Later
Question: Was there really any doubt that Windhaven Men's Soccer would be holding up that shiny first place trophy at the end of the season?
Answer: Nope. None whatsoever.
Still, when that final whistle blew late this morning to officially confirm the Warrior's 3-1 championship win, we all went freakin’ berserk as if it was completely unexpected. Those buff security guards beneath the bleachers might as well have been flimsy orange cones as the Windhaven student body stormed the field and congratulated our boys.
And that's no exaggeration—it seriously was the entire student body out there on the field.
The Final Four semi-final and final games were held this weekend less than an hour from campus, so it was pretty much “home turf” for us. While the other teams had a few loyal fans make the much-longer trips, the majority of the crowd was bathed head-to-toe in cobalt blue and metallic silver.
It couldn't have been a better setting for the guys to take it all.
Another bonus to the close proximity?
The after party at the Treehouse was in full swing within just a few hours of that game-ending whistle. The moment we arrived back to Windhaven, family, friends, and fans alike all piled onto the property to celebrate.
Though the front yard is the usual go-to party venue, it’s still in recovery from the masses of students who showed up for the quarterfinal win celebration last weekend. Dying winter grass + 300 pairs of shoes stomping around = a not so pretty yard.
So tonight we’re packed onto the massive back deck—possibly the only section of the Treehouse I hadn't observed yet (apart from Weston's Lair).
It's breathtaking back here: dark-stained wood beneath our feet, a stone fire pit out in the grass, and so much vegetation I feel like I'm in a freakin’ green house. The earthy colors are further amplified by the overcast sky—stormy gray clouds and an erratic breeze warning us a storm is surely on its way.
I'm sipping on a glass of wine while I chat with Vaughn, aka Mr. MVP of the College Cup.
&n
bsp; Yeah...I think there was even less doubt about that proclamation than the outcome of the game.
And of course he’s completely deserving of the title. He scored twice, each goal a masterpiece in its own right. He is an absolute stud.
However, I'm starting to get annoyed and a tad jealous because no one is letting him forget this fact. I don’t think we've gotten in more than two minutes alone since this shin-dig began a few hours ago, the two of us constantly interrupted by partygoers complimenting him on his performance.
I’m convinced every person here has had their share of congratulatory words with him when the short-and-stocky sophomore, Victor, pops up beside us and proceeds to practically bow at the feet of my boyfriend.
“Dude, awesome game. You are the man, Vaughn. Best player in the entire country for sure! Maybe the whole world!”
“Victor.” I shoot him a warning glance. “Wipe that drool from your mouth, and please refrain from inflating his ego anymore than necessary.”
Vaughn furrows his brows in mock offense. “You weren't impressed with my game, Raynie?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “Eh, you played alright.”
“Just alright, huh?” His lips curl up in a mischievous grin. “Funny you say that, ‘cause when I saw you in the stands after my second goal you seemed pretty damn impressed. In fact, you looked like you were really enjoying it: biting on your lip, giving me that look—you know what I'm talking about. That come take me right—”
“What?! Jesus, Steel!” My cheeks turn a guilty shade of bubblegum pink as I whack him on the chest. “I did not!”
Okay...so I totally did.
And it may have led to a little locker room love fest after the game.
What?
I can’t help myself. Watching Vaughn dominate the field gets my motor running like nothing else.
But his teammates do not need to know that.
Victor just grins and walks off. I gaze around the yard, taking in the scene.
“You know, this is surprisingly classy for a Treehouse event. Everything seems very...mature? It's slightly shocking.” I point to my glass. “I mean, we're drinking wine. What's going on here?”
Vaughn laughs. “Just wait until all the families head out. Classes are over, finals don't start until Thursday, and we just won the fucking National Championship. This place is gonna look like a nuclear war zone come morning. Ellie's gonna freak.”
He nudges his chin towards the yard where Cameron's setting up a fold-out table, Diego on his heels with some plastic cups and bottles of dark liquor. “See? The games are only beginning. Right now's just the calm before the storm.”
I'm watching the flip-cup set-up commence when I catch sight of something beyond the table. Something that I desperately need to prevent him from seeing.
“Um, Vaughn, do you think you could go get me—”
But it's too late. His mouth sets into a tight line as he spots Weston chatting up Sydney next to a thick tree trunk.
“Motherfucking Paine,” he grumbles with a shake of his head. “Swear to God, I'm gonna fucking murder him.”
“Relax, babe. Sydney's smart enough not to fall for whatever game he's throwing her way.”
“She better be,” he says gruffly. “Thank fuck she has no interest in going to college here. I’d have to spend all my free time keeping her as far away from this place as possible.”
“Oh, come on. I don't think you'd have to worry that much,” I start to say, but stop when Weston leans in close to whisper something in Sydney's ear. He places a hand on her waist just as she starts to giggle at his words, and—
Okay, I stand corrected.
I completely understand why he wouldn't want her within a fifty mile radius of him.
Vaughn’s back goes ram-rod straight. “Sydney!” he calls out sternly. “Come here. I need to ask you something.”
Not gonna lie, I totally love this protective older brother side of Vaughn. It’s oddly endearing.
Sydney glances over, pouting but ultimately obeying her older brother as she heads towards us. Vaughn flips up his middle finger at Weston and mouths a few colorful expletives his way.
Before Weston can vocalize his retort, the heart-stopping roll of thunder erupts from the sky. Less than a second later, rain begins to pour from the clouds, the massive drops hitting the deck with loud splats.
Everyone immediately runs for cover, packing up the food and drinks as quickly as they can before retreating into the Treehouse for shelter.
“Let's go!” I grab Vaughn’s hand and nod towards the house.
But when I try to pull him along, he doesn't budge.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Let’s stay out here. I don’t wanna squeeze in there with all those people. I want you all to myself.”
“In the rain?” I question, glancing up at the steady stream of water falling from the sky.
I don't really mind, though; the cool droplets feel refreshing as they roll down my skin.
“Yeah,” he says, tugging me towards him. He brushes my wet hair from my face, tucking the strands that are starting to curl behind my ear. “I don't know if you know this, babe, but I fucking love the rain. Rain’s my favorite thing on this entire damn planet.”
I roll my eyes good-naturedly. “What the hell would you do if my name wasn’t pun-friendly? That would really suck for you, huh?”
“No, that would suck for you.” He smirks. “You wouldn’t get the pleasure of hearing all my hilarious jokes.”
“Cheesy jokes,” I correct.
“Cheesy, mushy, gooey—use whatever adjective you want, they’re still fucking hilarious.”
“Are we discussing your jokes or a grilled cheese?”
He laughs and wraps his arms around me. I snuggle into his chest, the wet fabric of his thin t-shirt clinging to his taut muscles and leaving nothing to the imagination.
“Rayne?”
I lift my head to meet his gaze. His hair’s been colored a majestic, inky black by the water, and dozens of raindrops are trickling down his golden skin. A muted crack of thunder booms in the distance.
And then he leans down and places a tender kiss on my forehead, a kiss that instantly transports me back to that fateful night on my couch so many months ago. I close my eyes and I'm there.
I'm there and falling for him all over again.
He gently pulls back. My eyes flutter open to reveal his sweet smile.
“I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” Curiosity flits through her eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s inside. Gimme one sec.”
I jog into the house, shoving my way past the groups of people blocking my path.
As I step into the kitchen, I realize it was really fucking stupid to leave it in here unattended. I swear, if somebody damaged it, I'm gonna—
Luckily, I don’t have to finish that thought because I spot the cardboard box exactly where I left it.
I snatch it up and turn when I spy Sydney in the corner, beer bottle in hand as she bats her eyelashes at Jamal and Diego.
For fuck’s sake.
Can’t let her out of my sight for one goddamn minute.
She looks up, probably sensing I’m staring her down. Before she can avert her eyes, I point at her.
“You. Over here. Now.”
No rainstorm to spare the lecture this time, Sis.
She looks over both shoulders before jabbing a finger in her chest and mouthing “Me?”
I roll my eyes and barge over to her.
“Hey, dude, I didn’t know you had—”
I blatantly ignore Diego’s comment as I grab Sydney’s arm and begin dragging her off.
“Dang it, Vaughn. What are you doing?”
“You need to stay away from these assholes. They're trouble. Every last one of them.” I point to her bottle. “And that’s the last one of those you’ll be drinking tonight. You’re too young.”
“But it’s a college party! Everyone underage dri
nks in college.”
“Yeah, and you’re in high school. You can do what you want when you go to college, but as long as you're here we play by my rules. Got it?”
“That's not fair,” she grumbles.
“Life's not fair, Syd. Deal with it.”
After pulling her through the living room, I finally reach the one person at this party I trust enough to watch after her: Miss Mother Hen herself.
“Hey, El. Just the girl I'm looking for.” I yank Sydney up in front of me. “You meet my kid sister yet?”
Ellie’s face lights up as she amicably greets her.
As Sydney’s introducing herself to Liam, I catch Ellie’s eye and tip my chin towards my sister. “Keep an eye on her for me, will you?”
She nods reassuringly. “Sure thing.”
Problem solved.
I head back outside, but not before grabbing a spare umbrella hanging from the coat rack. This gift’s not waterproof, but I still wanna do this outside where it’s just the two of us.
After I slide the back door shut, I pop open the umbrella and motion for Rayne to follow me.
“Hope you don't mind, but I didn't have time to wrap it,” I say as I set the box on the patio table. “I was kinda busy this weekend. Had a few soccer games to play.”
She grins and lifts the box. But instead of ripping it open impatient-kid-on-Christmas-morning style like I would’ve done, she just stares at it.
And stares at it.
And stares at it some more.
I rub the back of my neck. “Well shit, Rayne. My hair’s turning gray over here. Fucking open it.”
She blushes and her fingers finally get to work prying open the taped flaps. Her eyes go wide as saucers as she lifts the present out of the box.
“Holy shit!”
A massive grin spreads across my face as I watch her bounce up and down in ecstasy.
God, she's fucking adorable.
