I want to object. I don’t know why he’s pushing Sam from outside left mid to my forward and taking Lindsay away from me. I work better with Linds; I know and trust her. I don’t trust Sam as far as I could throw her bony little ass.
Sam’s devilish grin makes my stomach drop, knowing damn well she’s not going to be a team player to help me out. I’ll have to do everything on my own and try to keep the ball away from her.
“Bria, come here for a sec.” Tatum, who was standing to the side behind Paxton, waves me away from the rest of the team.
I follow him, fixing my ponytail as I trail behind. Sam makes a comment under her breath, but lucky for her I don’t catch it.
As I pass by the stands, I hear my name being called. I glance up and see Ben standing by the railing, waving with a smile on his face. He flicks his head to the side, moving the floppy hair out of his eyes.
I wave back and he cups his hands around his mouth, yelling to me. “Great job. You look incredible.” He winks and my face heats, but I’m sure the blush is hidden under the redness produced from exertion.
Tatum stops and whips his head to see who I’m talking to. His jaw clenches and he snaps my name, forcing me to look at him.
“What the hell are you doing out there?” The venom in his tone is unexpected and I rear back.
“Um, winning the game? Kicking ass?” My hands find my hips and I stare at him, allowing irritation to color my face.
“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. You had two turnovers, almost costing us the lead. You’re trying to go through players instead of using the skills I taught you. I feel like I’m wasting my time with you after watching this game.”
He can’t be serious. “What game are you watching? I scored two of the three goals, and on the third, I had the assist. If by turnover you mean how number fifteen tripped me out there and didn’t get carded, then maybe we’re on the same page.”
“Oh, poor Bria. That’s the name of the game, sweetheart. You can’t be afraid to get a little physical out there. I didn’t see one play warranting a card.”
“Which team are you rooting for, exactly?”
Tatum has been hard on me for days now. After our awkward practice the other night when we scrimmaged one-on-one, he’s all but avoided me. He’s been torturing me with suicides and running bowls, not even bothering to bring any balls or cones to practice. I feel like I’m on the fucking cross-country team.
“Get your head out of your ass and onto the field.” He jabs a finger toward the pitch.
“Get the ass out of your personality and you have a deal.” I whip around, hoping to smack him with my ponytail, and all but stomping back to the team as the ref blows the whistle to call the end of halftime.
I get into position across from Sam and she smirks at me. “Lovers quarrel?”
I roll my eyes. “Let’s just play the game.”
The whistle blows and our opponent, California Crest University has the ball. They kick off and immediately I’m on them, pressuring the bitch in the number fifteen jersey to fuck up and give me my opening to steal the ball.
Like a pansy, she passes instead of taking me one-on-one. The ball is on our half of the field and I drop back to get on defense. The girl wearing the number twenty-six gets past our midfielders and is approaching the goal—and I get pissed.
“Come on, ladies, what the hell are you doing?” I screech as the girl takes a shot. Sydney, our goalie, stops the ball and I let out a frustrated breath.
She punts it to me and I trap it and take off down the field. CCU barely has an opportunity to drop back on defense before I’m at their eighteen.
Their defenders approach me, crowding me with pressure. I drop my hips low, protecting the ball. The girl isn’t going to let up, which only gives me one option. I decide to push through her.
I drop a shoulder as I shove by, checking her and shoving her aside. She trips over her own feet and in an instant, the whistle blows and I’m forced to stop. The ref comes jogging over, taking out a little book from his chest pocket and holding up a yellow card. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
“Open your eyes, Ref, that was a clean shot,” I argue, my hands balling into fists and my ponytail swinging side to side.
“Watch it, Eleven, or you’ll upgrade to a red card.”
I bite my tongue and storm off the field when Paxton subs me out. Un-fucking-believable.
I throw my bag off the bench and grab my water bottle, squirting a large amount into my mouth. I wipe my chin as some of it dribbles down.
“Campbell, what the hell are you doing?” Tatum stands in front of me, his hands thrown in the air with aggravation.
“What you told me to, Coach. Getting physical, not being afraid to get a little aggressive. I picked up the slack since my team is blowing it.” The teammates sitting beside me on the bench snap their heads toward me and scoff. Whatever, screw them.
“I didn’t tell you to break a girl’s ankle.”
“She has two left feet, I didn’t even touch her!” I stand as I yell and the ref looks over to me glaring. I sit back down with a huff.
After a few minutes, my foot starts to tap in impatience. It gets worse when CCU scores.
“Campbell, get in there.” I listen to Paxton and sub out Brittany, taking my rightful position on the field.
When Sam gets the ball, I clench my jaw. She makes her way down the field and completely ignores me even though I’m wide open and calling for the ball. But no, she keeps pushing and ends up losing the ball when she takes a pathetic shot on the goal.
“Sam, stop trying to be a hero. You don’t have the skill for it.”
She narrows her eyes at my remark and jogs down the field to fix her mistake.
Because of her turnover, California Crest scores again. Much to my relief, Coach pulls her out of the game and moves Lindsay back up with me. There are only five minutes left in this half and the score is tied.
We kick off and I drive down the field. I get past the midfielders and Lindsay is open. I pass her the ball. Watching her drive down the field happens all too fast but somehow also in slow motion.
I have a player on my back, but I push toward the goal in case she needs an assist.
She takes a shot and my arms fly in the air as she scores. The team runs and circles around Lindsay as we celebrate.
We have a few more minutes and all we have to do is make sure our opponent doesn’t score.
When the final whistle blows, we jump and scream with euphoria. The win wasn’t pretty, but at least we pulled through. We line up and slap hands with the other team. Morgan is behind me and leans in to whisper in my ear. “We’re celebrating tonight.” She has a devious smirk on her lips and I know she plans to get hammered.
“Good game, ladies. I know what we need to work on at our next practice. I’ll see you all then.” Paxton jots down a few notes on his clipboard before walking to Tatum and showing him whatever he wrote down.
We pack up our bags, but I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to simply walk away without a lecture. I walk to the other end of the bleachers to the hot yet irritating man who called my name.
“What’s up?” I cross my arms over my chest and look up at my assistant coach.
“That was a mess out there. Be ready for training tomorrow.” He eyes me pointedly and I’m guessing he can read the room—or, well, the field.
It’s our first game and win of the season. Of course, he knows we’re going to celebrate, dry season be damned.
“Yes, sir.” I roll my eyes and back away, walking over to Morgan and Lindsay. “Where’s the party?”
Chapter Thirteen
Bria
“This is a risk, isn’t it? Having the party at our place?” The music is already turned on even though most of us are still getting ready. Voices trail up the stairs and there’s a loud bang, scaring me and causing me to jump which messes up my eyeliner. Shit. I grab a makeup remover and restart the eye I smudge
d.
“Is Ben coming tonight?”
“Of course.” I adjust the wing on my cat eye and lean back to admire my work.
“Is Ben staying over tonight?” She appears behind me in the mirror, wiggling her eyebrows with a knowing smirk.
A knock comes from behind us and I turn on my stool to see Lindsay and Sydney in the doorway.
“Change of plans. The baseball house is hosting the party instead,” Linds tells us.
“Why? We already have the music and booze.” Morgan whines, but I’m glad for the change of scenery. We’re less likely to be caught if we’re not home.
“So, we’ll take the booze with us. Hurry up.” Syd does a little hip shake and fluffs her short raven hair before walking away.
I walk to my closet and glance to the left, spotting the heels I planned to pair with my jeans and tank top. That idea went out the window with the change of venue. I reach to the right and grab my white converse instead, slipping my feet into them.
“That’s what you’re wearing?” Morgan is dressed to the nines as if she’s ready for the Met Gala and not a frat party.
“I don’t feel like walking across campus in heels and who do I have to impress? I have a boyfriend.” I shrug even though calling Ben my boyfriend again kind of makes me want to cringe.
I’ve been avoiding him at every turn. It’s gotten worse since the practice with Tatum when we had our near-miss-whatever. I still don’t think he was going to kiss me, but there was definite tension I can’t forget about or ignore.
Morgan secures her dangly earrings and then we’re out the door. The music gets shut off and a bunch of us have our soccer bags slung over our shoulders. They’re not filled with cleats and jerseys tonight, though. Instead, it’s how we’re transporting our liquor.
The group of us is loud as we head toward the baseball house. My nerves rattle and something doesn’t feel right inside me tonight, but I can’t place it. I’m sure it’s nothing more than nerves about spending the night with Ben.
We get to the house and considering we brought our own liquor, they don’t make us pay to get in. They even agree to split the funds with us which makes this night a win in my book.
I make my way through the house toward the back where the kitchen is and we set up all the booze we brought. There’s enough vodka, tequila, and rum to inebriate the entire campus and we didn’t take into account the kegs the house has.
I grab the pack of plastic shot glasses out of my bag and open it, pulling out two cups—one for me and one for Morgan. I go straight for the big guns, filling the little shot glasses to the brim with tequila.
I shudder and shake my head at the burn while Morgan lets out a loud “Woo!” and pours another shot.
“To an incredible season and senior year and to making you a lifelong friend.” She raises her cup and I smile at her sweet sentiment.
“Cheers.” We clink and drink.
My best friend takes my hand and pulls me down the hall back toward the living room. I spot Ben by the beer pong table and break away from my friend to go to him. Morgan tosses me a wink and walks toward the center of the room. I see her saunter over to Chris, the first base player for the university’s baseball team. She’s fearless as she grabs his hand, pulling him to the other side of the room to do God knows what with him.
“Hey,” I say to my boyfriend and he pulls me into him. He kisses me on the cheek and offers me the ping pong ball.
“Celebrity shot?” I take it with a smile and take the shot, sinking it into the second to last cup. “That’s my girl.” He plants his mouth on mine and I can taste the beer on his tongue.
I pull away and try to be as sly as possible as I wipe my mouth from the kiss. “You keep playing. I need another drink.” He nods before I walk away.
The shots I had have done nothing for me. I don’t even feel the burn in my veins or the warmth spreading through my blood. I wanted to lower my inhibitions, to not cringe when my boyfriend kisses me, and to celebrate my victory.
So far I’m oh-for-three.
I push past the bodies in the hallway and make my way back to the kitchen. I find Sydney and Lindsay already doing shots, but unfortunately, Sam is with them. I shoot Linds a look, but she’s already too drunk to read the betrayal on my face.
Going around Sam, I grab a red solo cup and fill it to the brim with beer. I take a healthy gulp before turning back to leave. Sam, however, has other plans.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” she asks with a glimmer in her eye.
“Why do you care?” I take another sip.
“I was going to see if he wanted to take a ride. I’m sure he’s bored with you already.” She’s trying to get under my skin and I refuse to let her.
“Jealous because he didn’t sleep with you when he was sleeping around before? You weren’t even good enough for him then.” It pisses me off to remember how he cheated on me, but for the sake of pissing off Sam, it’s almost worth it.
“Who says he didn’t?” She twirls a stand of chestnut hair around her finger as she cocks her head and smirks at me.
I clench my jaw. I stare right into her shit-brown eyes and spot a twinkle that makes me sick. I never noticed it before and suddenly I’m questioning everything again. Would she really do that to me? We were friends once, before all this soccer drama, weren’t we?
“Fuck you, Sam.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll have Ben do it for you.” I down my drink and refill it before leaving the kitchen. Before I go, I rear back and slap the hell out of her face.
“You bitch.”
“Right back at you.”
I storm through the house, bypassing Ben at the beer pong table. He started another game with a new opponent as the reigning champion.
“Bri,” he calls but I ignore him.
I head upstairs to get away from everyone. There’s a bathroom most people don’t know about at the end of the hall. I find it vacant and slip inside to calm down.
I sit on the toilet with the lid closed and sip my drink as I think over everything. Sam was only trying to get under my skin, right? Ben confessed to everything, he promised to be honest with me. I just need to ask him.
I open the door, ready to bolt back downstairs and confront him, but already find him on the other side. I should’ve known he’d come after me here; after all, he’s the one who showed me this secret bathroom in the first place.
“Hey, are you okay?” His face crinkles with concern and I desperately want to believe his act.
“Not really. Can we talk?” He nods and offers me his hand. He takes me to one of the bedrooms and thank God it’s empty.
He pulls me to the bed and we sit down side by side. He opens his mouth to question me, but I beat him to it.
“Did you sleep with Sam?” His face contorts in disgust.
“No, I swear to you I didn’t. Why? What did she tell you?”
I study him. A part of me will always question him thanks to his past indiscretions. I don’t know if I can, or will, ever trust him again.
“She didn’t say it, but she implied it. She’s getting in my head.” I drink my beer, allowing my thoughts to ruminate and my hatred for her to strengthen.
“Forget about her.” He cradles my face in his hand, turning me to look at him.
The buzz from the alcohol is finally settling into my belly, making me hot.
I cast my eyes down before looking at him. I used to feel safe when I was with him. Looking at him used to fill me with nothing but love and happiness. Now when I look at him, all I see is all the other women he slept with when we were together. There’s no trust or love. Sure, he’s handsome, but I’m attracted to him like I’m attracted to kittens. They’re cute, but if I get too close I’ll break out in hives.
He doesn’t read the indecision I’m projecting. In fact, his eyes are red and half closed and I don’t think he’s looking at me at all.
His lips find mine and I try to kiss him back. I hope the heat in my bell
y will spread and I’ll want to kiss him. I hope to forget everything with this kiss and only focus on the here and now.
But I can’t.
I push him away…but he doesn’t budge. He kisses me harder, rougher. His hands wrap around my upper arms as he forces his tongue into my throat.
I manage to turn my head and a strangled, “Stop,” comes out of my mouth.
He thinks I turned my head to give him access to my neck. He trails wet kisses down the slope toward my collarbone and breasts. His hands are still on my arms and I grip him back, digging my nails into his skin. It doesn’t faze him.
My phone, which is in my back pocket, starts vibrating. With fear lacing my voice, I tell him I have to answer it. I play cool, trying not to act scared. I don’t want him to feel threatened and lash out.
By some miracle, he keeps kissing my neck but he loosens his grip on me and I’m able to reach for my phone.
As I notice the caller ID, a sigh of relief escapes me. “Hey, can you pick me up? I’m at the baseball house across campus. Do you know where it is?” When Tatum says yes, I say a silent prayer. He asks me if I want to stay on the phone until he gets here, but I say no. “I’ll wait for you outside.”
I start counting the minutes until Tatum gets here.
“Who was that?” Ben tugs on my earlobe and vomit comes up my throat.
“Coach. He found out about the party and uh, he’s pissed. He’s coming to get me and I’ll have hell to pay.” I’ll say anything right about now to get away from Ben and the lie works.
“We have a few minutes until he gets here, right?” He reaches for the zipper of my jeans and I swat his hand away. He looks up at me, his eyes suddenly full of sadness and regret.
In part, I don’t think Ben is a bad guy. I think he makes bad, incredibly stupid decisions. I think he parties too much and loses himself, and for a minute I was sincerely afraid of him, but in general, I think he tries to be good.
“What the fuck is your problem, Bria? I apologized. We got back together. And yet I’m here trying to prove myself every day and you still won’t sleep with me. Is it any wonder I slept around on you the first time?”
Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel Page 7
