by Celia Aaron
“Bring it on home, Cordy.”
“Yes, sir.” I trotted onto the field.
Trent followed. “You’re doing great.”
I grinned and fidgeted with my mouth piece. “So are you.”
The crowd grew louder as an image of Trent and me lit up the huge screens on each end. We were standing close, and my smile was on full display. My cheeks heated, but I trained my eyes on the field. I needed to keep my head in the game.
“You got this.” Trent tapped my helmet, then knelt.
The crowd was quiet, many of them to help me concentrate, the rest because defeat was at hand. I lined up, took my steps, then signaled for the center to hike the ball.
I took my steps, connected with the pigskin, and the ball flew through the uprights. The crowd cheered, and for the first time, I was actually glad I was on a football field instead of a soccer pitch.
Trent stood and smacked my helmet again. “Perfect.”
“Thanks.” I ran off the field as Hawthorne prepared for his final kickoff of the game.
Trent walked to Coach and had a brief conference before coming to stand at my side. His brown hair stuck up every which way, and his eye black was smeared on one side, but he smiled down at me.
“You did it. Your first game as the starting kicker.”
Pride swelled in my chest, and I couldn’t stop my smile. “We did it.”
Hawthorne kicked to the Gators, who ran two plays, then took a knee to end the game. The crowd roared with approval as the teams took off to their locker rooms.
Trent patted my ass once we were in the tunnel. “I’ll have to do the press conference, but I’ll see you after.”
“Baxter!” Coach Sterling’s yell cut through the click of cleats and the high spirits of the team.
Trent and I stopped and turned.
“I’ll want you at the table for the conference. Be ready in half an hour.”
“Me?”
Coach Sterling stared down his bulbous nose at me as the rest of the team filtered past. “Is there another Baxter on the team I don’t know about?”
“Um, no?”
“No. So have your ass showered and ready to talk in thirty. Same goes for you, Trent. You know the drill. Get to it.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Once Coach Sterling was out of sight, Trent dropped a quick kiss on my lips. “See you at the table.”
A press conference? I strode to the women’s locker room and pushed inside. We were at the Gators’ field, so the room wasn’t familiar, but it had everything I needed to wash the game off me. I showered and dried my hair as fast as possible. I didn’t have time for any makeup other than some mascara, but it would have to do.
I walked through the stadium’s inner hallway and joined the team milling around outside the men’s locker room. Coach Carver tapped Coach Sterling on the shoulder and jerked his chin at me.
Coach Sterling waved me to him. “Come on, Baxter. Hotfoot it over to the press room.”
Pulling my bag behind me, I navigated through the players, several of them smiling and clapping me on the back. It felt good, and I found myself returning their grins and even doing a fist bump with a wide receiver.
“I’ll take that and see it to the bus.” Coach Carver snagged my carry-on luggage.
“Thanks.” I let it go and continued down the corridor.
Gabrielle Younce, the head of school media, stood in the hall, her well-coiffed blonde hair done in beachy waves and her skirt suit fitting her trim form perfectly. I’d become well acquainted with her when I was initially picked to be the Mav. She’d given a press conference about Billingsley inclusivity while I smiled and waved next to her.
“You ready?” She looked me up and down, then undid the last button on my team polo.
“Hey.” I wanted to slap her hand away.
“Trust me.” She pulled a lock of hair over my shoulder and backed away so I could continue toward the media room.
“We good?” Trent jogged up, though he looked paler than usual.
Did he still get nervous talking in front of people?
“I think so. I don’t know.” I clasped my hands in front of me as I walked, my fingers at war with each other. “I’ve never done a press conference before.”
“It’s easy.” Coach Sterling clapped me on the back. “I’ll handle most of the questions. You two just sit there and look pretty.”
We came to a set of green double doors, and Gabrielle whipped around in front of us. “Just be your best selves.” She smiled and turned the handle.
Trent took my hand, his palm clammy, and gave it a quick squeeze.
I followed Coach, Trent at my back, as we filed into the media room. About a dozen reporters sat in chairs or chit-chatted with each other. TV cameras were set up in the aisle, and a couple more recorded from the back of the room. Coach took two steps onto a podium and claimed the center seat where a bank of microphones was already waiting. I scooted past and sat on the far end. Trent sat on Coach’s other side.
The reporters took their seats. I recognized a couple at the front from ESPN and the local sports channel. Gabrielle stood off to the side, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Let’s get started.” Coach Sterling gave a play by play of how he felt the game went. He praised Trent’s leadership and mentioned the strength of our defensive line. After a long spiel about how we have to work on avoiding penalties that cost yardage, he opened the floor for questions.
“Is there any truth to the rumors that lineman Ethan Granger and your QB have a long-running feud of some sort?”
Coach waved his hand as if he were swatting an annoying fly. “None whatsoever. This is a competitive sport. Even on the same team, players want to be the best. That can lead to gossip, but nothing more. Both men are trying to be the best this team has to offer.”
Two reporters started asking questions at the same time, but the one in the front row won out. “Trent, how has team morale been since the kicking fiasco last Saturday?”
Some photographers moved around, taking my picture from different angles.
Trent cleared his throat. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a fiasco. That’s pretty harsh. We lost one of our best guys to injury, and Cordy did her best to fill that spot and win the game. What happened couldn’t have been foreseen. We got past it as a team, and now Cordy’s our starting kicker. We’re all behind her one hundred percent. So I think that tells you how the team’s morale is.”
I forced myself not to smile, though I wanted to burst with happiness from his vote of confidence.
“Cordy,” One of the men farther back called. “What’s it like being the only starting female college kicker in the country?”
I glanced at Coach. He nodded at me in the “go ahead” motion.
“It’s great. I couldn’t wish for a better team or a better set of coaches.”
The reporter leaned forward, his elbows on his thighs. “How did you go from missing so badly last weekend to knocking it through with ease during this game?”
“Practice. Trent helped me work on my form.” I winced as the reporter smirked, but continued, “Since he’s the holder, he knows a lot about kicking. We practiced together for a few days, and then I went to walk-on tryouts. I was the most accurate for shorter distances. And that’s how I got the first-string position.”
“Are you and Trent still practicing?” The inflection in his word and the smirk on his face had me fisting my hands beneath the table.
“The team practices every day of the week.” Trent’s voice boomed out. “Next question.”
But the reporter wouldn’t give up. “We saw an interesting display of affection out on the field during the game. Coach, are you okay with your players dating?”
Gabrielle stepped forward. “If you don’t have any football-related questions, we’ll call an end to the conference. The private lives of Billingsley’s students are not up for debate or questions.”
Relief coursed through me
as the rude reporter held a hand up and leaned back, though he still kept looking at me, then to Trent, then back to me.
The rest of the conference was taken up by questions for Coach and Trent. I was able to relax as they went over every bit of minutiae from the game. By the time the reporters began asking about our next game, our time was up. Gabrielle ushered us back into the hallway where Trent took a deep breath and leaned against the wall.
I rubbed his arm. “You did great in there.”
Gabrielle raised an eyebrow at the contact. “Cordy, a word?”
I stared up at Trent, not leaving until I was sure he was all right. “You okay?”
Trent smiled. “Yeah, I just have to decompress for a second, let my nerves calm down. Go on. I’ll see you on the bus.”
“Okay.” I followed Gabrielle, who turned into the nearby ladies’ room.
She bent over, checking for feet in the stalls. Apparently satisfied, she leaned against the nearest sink and sighed. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”
I couldn’t deny it, and I didn’t want to. “We’ve known each other a long time, but we only started dating a few days ago. Why?”
“The team doesn’t need any distractions.” She turned and perused her face in the mirror. “We already have a loss. It will take a miracle for us to make it to the playoffs this year. And we’ll likely have to face the Eagles again to do it.”
“I don’t care about facing the Eagles. They’re just another team.”
She peered at my reflection. “Do you have any idea how much pressure will be on the team, on you, if we go up against the same team who beat us solely because of your disastrous kick?”
Her tone grated on me. “Look, I intend to kick the best I can. That’s all I can do. My relationship with Trent has nothing to do with what happens on field.”
“If you two have a falling out, it will affect the entire team. It will affect how he plays and how you play.” She turned and faced me, her eyes narrowed. “Kickers are a dime a dozen. Quarterbacks aren’t. Bear that in mind if you want to keep your spot and your scholarship.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Are you threatening me?”
“No.” She strode to the door and pulled it open before affixing a fake smile on her face and responding brightly, “I’m educating you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
TRENT
MY PHONE RANG AS soon as I climbed onto the team charter bus. I already knew it was my mother. I ignored the call and pushed past my celebrating teammates to my seat. Cordy had saved a spot for me and smiled as soon as I came into view. I moved a little faster, the need to be close to her overwhelming my senses.
Sliding down next to her, I got a whiff of her shampoo. Would it be creepy for me to lean in and smell her hair? Yeah, probably. I did it anyway.
She laughed and punched my arm. “Weirdo. You’re going to get kicked off the bus.”
“I’m surprised they let you ride with us.” I glanced around. Cordy was the only woman I could recall being allowed on the team bus. The cheerleaders and the band always rode separately, and so did Cordy—until today.
“I think it was Gabrielle’s doing.” A frown tugged at one corner of her mouth. “Wanting to make the whole ‘she’s a real team member’ thing more effective for the press.”
I was just happy I got to sit next to her for the three-hour ride. “I guess your Mav days truly are over.”
“Well.” She glanced around as if she were about to tell me a highly classified secret, then leaned over and whispered. “I still have the vagina, so I can always reprise the role if I feel like it.”
“How’s my princess doing?” Ethan’s voice sounded from the aisle. I looked up to find him grinning at Cordy.
I bristled. “Move along, asshole.”
“I would, but you’re in my seat.”
“Wildebeests have reserved seating at the rear.” Cordy grabbed my elbow. “Google it if you don’t believe me.”
I rose, ignoring Cordy’s strengthening grip on my arm. “Don’t talk to her.”
“Who’s going to stop me?” He was about four inches shorter than me, but a whole hell of a lot wider.
I’d take my chances. “I think you know who.” I flexed my fists. The fact that he thought he could even look at Cordy made my blood boil. Guys like him had to be taught a lesson about the right way to treat women, and I was more than happy to be his instructor.
“Hey, guys.” Hawthorne stood in the aisle behind Ethan. “Knock it off.”
Ethan pointed a finger in my face. “One day soon, I’m going to put you in your place, rich boy.”
I stepped closer, until we were almost nose to nose. “That’s reassuring, since my place is always far above yours.”
Some of the closer players whistled. Cordy rose behind me and gripped my elbow. “Stop it. If either of you get hurt, it hurts the team.”
Ethan ignored her. He didn’t give two shits about the team. And my need to hurt him overcame Cordy’s sound logic. His comments about her couldn’t go unanswered any longer.
“What in the hell!” Coach Sterling’s voice cut through the chatter as he barreled down the aisle. “Ethan, sit the fuck down. Hawthorne, what are you doing just standing here?”
“Coach, I was uh—”
“You were putting your ass in a seat, is what you’re doing. Go on. We’re ready to get out of this shit hole, and we won’t be back until a couple years from now when we kick their asses again!”
The team whooped and yelled at Coach’s words, and Ethan continued down the aisle with lumbering footsteps. Hawthorne followed and patted my shoulder as he walked past. He was a good guy, and I could tell he would have had my back against Ethan.
I sank down in my seat.
Cordy grabbed my hand. “Don’t let him bait you. Ignore him. That’s what I do.”
“It’s not working. He’s obsessed with you.” I considered getting up and following him to kick his ass and be done with it.
“I seem to have that effect.” She rested her head on my shoulder as the bus began to move. The interior lights dimmed until only a soft glow from the floor lights illuminated us.
I kissed her hair. “He’s not going to stop being a problem.”
“I don’t want to talk about him. I want to talk about us.”
I threw my arm over her shoulder as we settled in for the ride. “What about us?”
A movie started playing on the back of each seat, but I focused on Cordy. Her polo was unbuttoned, and I could see the swell of her breast. My cock went from fight mode to fuck mode in the time it took me to shift closer to her.
“Are we…” She nibbled her lip.
I grabbed her chin and turned her to face me. “What?”
“Are we like, together?” She stumbled over her next words, as if she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “I know it’s too early to DTR—”
“DTR?” I grinned.
“Define the relationship.” She furrowed her brow.
“Right. Well, I define it as you’re mine and I’m yours. How’s that?”
Her gaze brightened. My phone buzzed again, but I ignored it.
“Someone’s calling you.” She glanced to my pants.
“It’s my mother.”
“Oh.”
I’d told Cordy about the difficulties I had with my mom, but I didn’t go into the details of how much acrimony our relationship would stir up. Mom had no doubt seen the press conference. She would know. Mom always knew. She was waiting for me to pick up the phone so she could load me down with Carlotta’s tears, my family’s legacy, and the bright future she thought I was throwing away. Future Trent could deal with it later.
I leaned close to Cordy’s ear. “Put your jacket on your lap.”
She turned to me, a wary look on her heart-shaped face. “Why?”
“It’s cold.”
“Not really.”
“You’re trembling.”
She arched
a brow. “Not because I’m cold.”
“Then why?”
“Because you—” She seemed to rethink her answer and, instead of responding, pulled her jacket into her lap as I’d requested.
“Good. My hands are cold.” I slid my palm along her thigh beneath the jacket.
She jumped and looked at me with a scandalized expression. “Trent!” She hissed through clenched teeth.
“What?” I pressed my fingers higher until I reached the top of her thighs, then I eased my hand between her legs.
“We can’t do this here.” She glanced around, but no one could see any details in the dark, and if anyone was looking, all they’d see was us sitting together and Cordy’s jacket in her lap.
I rubbed my index finger along the seam of her jeans over her clit. “We can.”
She gripped my wrist, but I didn’t stop. Her breathing grew faster as I stroked her. My cock demanded reciprocity, but it would have to wait. I wanted to pleasure her more than anything. When her lips parted, I knew I had her.
I pressed my lips to her ear. “Unbutton your jeans and unzip them.”
She tilted her hips forward and did as I’d said.
“You’ll have to be quiet.” I ran my fingers along her quivering stomach and she let out a small sound.
“Shhh.” I slid my hand into her panties and through her slick folds. “So wet.”
She pressed her lips into a small line as I circled her clit in slow strokes. I nuzzled closer and licked along the shell of her ear. She let out a breath and then placed one hand over her mouth.
The bus hit the interstate, the sound of the engine a constant background hum. I stroked faster, my fingers playing her clit as she worked her hips against me in small movements. Delving lower, I pushed a finger inside her tight pussy, and she moaned into her hand. I added a second finger and curled them to find her spot. Her hips moved faster as I massaged the little ridge inside her.
I slid my fingers out and went back to her clit while I kissed her neck. My back was broad enough to block the view, and the bus had grown even darker once we’d gotten past the city lights. Squeezing her clit between my index and middle finger, I rubbed up and down. Her eyes rolled back, and she came, her body quaking. She caught her quiet moans in her hand as I sucked her neck and kept pleasuring her with my fingers.
