One Good Play

by Meredith St. James

  It was the first time Rose had mentioned being adopted, though I'd had my suspicions already. I gave her a quick hug, dodging far out of reach of the hot curling iron in her left hand. She hadn't made a big deal out of saying it, so I didn't comment on her revelation.

  "It is kind of weird." Quickly, I added, "But it's really sweet, too."

  "So, you'll still go with us?" she asked hopefully.

  I plopped down on the closed toilet seat and tilted my head to give Rose access to the bulk of my hair. "Well, I mean, I can't get through my entire first semester of college without seeing a real, live college football game," I rationalized aloud.

  Rose squealed with glee as she launched herself at my hair. "You won't regret it," she promised. Though, when it took thirty minutes just for her to do my hair, I started to think she'd spoken too soon.

  By the time she was done, we exited the bathroom to find her parents examining—and indulging in—the contents of our kitchen. "We got hungry," Mr. Scott managed to explain around a mouthful of donut. Mrs. Scott unceremoniously dumped a forkful of instant noodles in her mouth, offering a shrug as her daughter groaned with embarrassment.

  I liked them.

  17

  Wren

  I'd never imagined that someone so bulky would be able to move so fast. But then again, Carter had surprised me before.

  Beside me, I could hear Carter's family trying to explain to me the significance of Carter's grip on the ball as he ran down the field. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it gave me warm and fuzzy feelings to be included. Rose's fingers were clawing at my arm as she excitedly pulled me to a standing position.

  Carter's feet were a blur as they brought him closer to us. It wasn't really us he was running to, it was the end zone. But since we were sitting behind the end zone it felt like he was heading right towards us.

  The scoreboard's timer counted down, warning of the impending end of the game. The score was tied, but Carter was running with the ball and it didn't seem like anyone could get close to him. My eyes darted between him and the timer, each second making my heart beat faster as it brought him closer to scoring.

  I waited with bated breath as he propelled himself onto the painted section of the field just milliseconds before the roars of the crowd announced the end of the game. I grasped at my chest. My heart was fluttering so rapidly that I spent a split-second wondering if I was having a heart attack.

  I was only semi-surprised when Mrs. Scott—Diana, she'd insisted I call her—stood on her chair and started chanting. "Carter Scott is very hot! Carter Scott is very hot! Carter Scott is very hot!" The crowd behind her gleefully joined in until nearly half the stadium was chanting along with her. It was the same sort of thing my mom would have done given the chance.

  Carter's head had jerked up when the chant started, annoyance showing on his face. He looked towards our section, probably seeking out the source of the noise. His eyes landed on me. I could see his expression turn to surprise. He dropped the ball he'd victoriously carried over the threshold, and a grin spread across his face.

  "Someone's excited to see you," Rose teased.

  He stepped forward as if to come to us, but the moment was hijacked. His team swept him up in a celebratory circle.

  I watched in fascination. I'd never been much for team sports as a kid. Even as an adult, no matter how many friends I'd made, I'd ultimately done things solo. It was a little baffling to peek into how rooted in other people Carter's life was when my own felt so rootless.

  I'd been in love before. Afterward, when it was over, I'd taken comfort in the saying that lightning never strikes twice. But out there, under the stadium lights, I found myself guiltily wishing for a second strike.

  18

  Carter

  Twenty-four hours earlier I would never have guessed that I'd be sitting around a dinner table with my family and Wren. There was something surreal about having them all together like that. I was especially interested to find that Wren wasn't the least bit uncomfortable despite my unconventional parents. I knew they were a lot when people first met them, but Wren didn't seem fazed by it.

  My parents had chosen a family-style Italian place to take us to. It hadn't escaped my notice the way Wren's eyes had lit up when my dad ordered three different kinds of garlic bread for the table.

  "This will be the best Italian food you've ever had," my mom told Wren. She was so solemn that she said it. Someone sitting too far away to hear her would have thought she'd just announced to the table that she was dying. Wren grinned, something she'd been doing freely since I'd joined them outside of the locker room after my game.

  "I don't know," Wren mused, "I've had Italian food in Italy before. There's some stiff competition."

  My mom spit out the small sip of water she'd just taken. "You've been to Italy?" she gasped. She hit my dad in the chest with the back of her hand.

  He grunted from the impact. "What was that for?"

  "You've never taken me to Italy!"

  "Good grief woman," he groaned. "Have you forgotten that we live off of two teacher's salaries?"

  Mom rolled her eyes at him and turned her focus back to Wren. "Italy, wow. You're like...worldly." She lowered her voice, even though it did nothing to stop me from still hearing her clearly when she asked, "What in the heck are you doing with my son? Has he told you he's afraid of airplanes? And boats? Trains, too, I think."

  That time it was my turn to groan. "I am not afraid of them. I'm just realistically aware of the dangers."

  "He cried the last time we tried to get him on a plane," Mom said, leaning conspiratorially towards Wren.

  "Really?" Wren looked at me, her eyes big and round. "How old were you?"

  "Seventeen," Rose answered before I could.

  Wren patted my shoulder in a way that she'd probably meant to be comforting. Instead, it made me feel like a little kid. Desperate, I blurted out, "I'll have you all know I've flown several times with the football team in the past couple years, and I haven't cried once."

  "Oh, gosh. Look how proud he is about it," Mom managed to get out in between the hoots of laughter that were escaping her. The whole table dissolved into a giggling fit. It was no wonder I never wanted to open my mouth.

  I felt a hand slide gently onto my left leg I peeked over at Wren, who looked so casual about it. There was nothing sexual about it at all, the touch was just surprisingly intimate. It was the sort of thing I'd expect a girlfriend to do. I tried not to get my hopes up as I slid my own hand down towards hers. She flipped her hand over so that our palms touched, her fingers clasping with mine. The continued teasing faded to background noise as Wren offered me a private smile.

  The waiter interrupted the moment as he and another server brought over our giant bread order. Immediately, Dad was trying to nab a piece before the plates had even touched our table. After taking our actual dinner orders, our waiter was gone again as quickly as possible, probably worried about losing a hand in the chaos. One thing was for sure, my parents liked to eat. Table manners had never really been a thing in our house growing up. I was relieved that Wren didn't seem bothered by it. She fit right in.

  "That was some game today," Dad said when he'd finally stuffed himself full of bread. He beamed proudly. "Not much longer until you'll be playing with the pros."

  I felt Wren's hand tense in mine. I squeezed hers, trying to channel some of the strength she seemed so graced with. When my eyes drifted over her I noticed the tilt of her eyebrow. I'd made it pretty clear to her that my future plans didn't include a professional football career. She probably assumed everyone had known.

  "Later," I breathed out, quietly so that only she could hear me.

  It wasn't something I wanted to delve into with my parents, not when the day had started to drift so far in my favor. I owed my parents everything. I'd been just a young foster kid when they'd come and plucked me up into their family. The prospect of my pro career was exciting for them—much more so for them
than it was for me—and I just wasn't ready to ruin that for them yet. Besides, I was dreading the long conversation that would inevitably come along with that declaration.

  I changed the subject. "Has Rose mentioned she declared a major? She wants to be a nurse."

  Mom would have clapped her hands in her excitement if they'd been empty. As it was, she was busy double-fisting garlic bread. She raised her arms and clapped the pieces of bread together instead.

  "One point for me then," Dad boasted.

  Mom tossed one of her bread pieces at his face. "She's only a freshman. She'll probably change her mind at least eight times before she graduates."

  "You took double points over Carter switching his major," he reminded her crossly. The rest of us had ceased to exist in the midst of their arguing. They might as well have been standing in a boxing match together.

  "It's not my fault I guessed both journalism and history for him."

  "You said that because you were guessing he'd double-major. Him switching between the two isn't even the same thing."

  "Wait," I interrupted. "Have you all been betting on our majors?" I asked. I couldn't say I was all that surprised by the possibility.

  "Yes, but that's not why I got the point."

  "You didn't get a point!" Mom was still trying to protest. Dad slapped a hand over her mouth so that she couldn't talk.

  He explained, "I get the point because our nurse daughter is obviously the front-runner for taking care of us in our old age."

  "Shouldn't that point not be distributed until you all are actually old enough to need taking care of?" Wren jumped in. She seemed fascinated by the odd game.

  Dad scoffed at her. "That's ridiculous. We use a milestone benchmark system. At every major milestone in the kids' lives, we evaluate how it would affect our elderly care prospects. Rose starting college and picking a major is the most recent benchmark, hence the point."

  "That makes sense," Wren admitted. She nodded thoughtfully. "I'd have to agree then that you get the point. Even if Rose changes her major later, her initial selection is what triggered the benchmark rule."

  Mom shook off Dad's hand and pointed an accusatory finger across the table at Wren. "You traitor. Just for that, I'm making sure you and Carter have to take us. That way you have to change my adult diapers, you wench."

  Wren blushed. Probably at the implication that the two of us would be together when my parents were elderly.

  "Mom?" I butted in, "Maybe bring it down a notch."

  She muttered something that sounded an awful lot like she was calling me a "stick in the mud" but I ignored her.

  Rose managed to drag the conversation back around to herself. She regaled my parents with stories about how her first weeks of college had been going. The spotlight stayed on her even as the waiter brought out our food.

  Wren gently extradited her hand out of my grip, and I reluctantly let her. She needed her right hand free to be able to eat comfortably. I didn't have that problem though since I was sitting on her left. I let my hand rest on her leg like she'd rested hers on mine. I kept my touch limited to her lower thigh.

  Pretty quickly, I discovered I'd made a mistake. When she took her first bite of the pasta she'd ordered she let out a low moan that would make even a seasoned porn star jealous. I yanked my hand away from her as if I'd been burned. My dick had stood right to attention at the sound of her pleasure.

  "Excuse me," I barely managed to mumble to the table as I shoved out of my seat.

  I could feel the looks of concern trailing after me as I practically sprinted towards the neon bathroom sign. In my mind, I pictured the least sexy thing I could think of. Newborn kittens. Nursing homes. Global warming. Nothing was working. And because luck was not on my side, the one-person bathroom was occupied, leaving me without a hiding spot.

  "Carter?" Wren had followed me to the hallway in the back of the restaurant. Just what I needed, to be trapped in a small space with her while I was fighting the boner she'd inadvertently given me. "Are you okay?" she asked. She approached me slowly as if I was a wounded animal.

  "Uh, yeah," I answered in a tight voice that barely sounded like my own. I sounded like I was being strangled.

  "Did I do something?"

  All I could do was chuckle. "Uh, you could say that." I gestured towards my lower half.

  "Oh." She glanced down. "OH." Her eyes darted back-and-forth between my face and my straining cock. It was almost like she couldn't help but to keep looking. "How did that even—"

  "You moaned."

  She seemed surprised. "I did? When?"

  "When you took your first bite out there. You moaned." I raised my hand, forced to bite my own fist as I remembered clearly the sound she'd made.

  "Sorry." She glanced away guiltily. I pulled her to me and wrapped my arms around her. I did as much for my own comfort as for hers. She felt so right nestled up against me like that.

  "Don't be sorry," I told her, "Just promise you'll make that sound again for me later."

  "We haven't talked about everything. There's obviously still stuff we need to work out."

  "We will," I promised. I let my head rest against the top of hers. "I like you," I told her softly.

  "I like you, too," she breathed out without any sign of a second thought. Then, she said something that made me squeeze her tighter. "And I want to try."

  19

  Carter

  "You're not even paying attention," Wren sighed.

  She leaned forward on the couch so she could set my textbook on the coffee table. I watched guilt-ridden as she pushed a week old pizza box out of the way to make room for the book. It came with the territory of having so many guys living together unsupervised in one house. We weren't the neatest when you stuck us all together like that. I would have to remember to pick up a little bit before Wren came over again. I didn't want her thinking I was the one that was the major slob.

  Out of all the roommates, I was actually probably the cleanest. Wren and I hadn't spent time in my bedroom since the night when we'd slept together, but I hoped she'd remembered that about me. My room hadn't been pristine when she'd seen it, but it hadn't been gross either.

  I tugged Wren towards me by the sleeve of her sweater. I was sprawled out on my back taking up two of the couch cushions, so she ended up settled between my legs with her head on my chest. The smell of her shampoo wafted towards me, and I took a deep breath. I loved the flowery smell of her freshly washed hair. I could tell it was still damp from her having rushed to get ready to come see me.

  "Stop smelling me," she mumbled into my t-shirt.

  I threw my head back against the armrest and laughed. "I can't help it. You smell so good."

  "So do you," she sighed again, though that time with contentment rather than exasperation.

  She tilted her head up and rested her chin on her arms, which she crossed over my chest. Her eyes studied me. I couldn't resist tucking some of her hair behind her ear. I loved any excuse to touch the soft waves.

  We hadn't quite figured everything out in the weeks since Wren had surprised me at my football game, but we were working on it. We'd been spending an increasing amount of time together since then. She'd started introducing me to her friends as someone she was dating, which felt like a huge promotion from being the guy she was tutoring. I'd even managed to hang out with her friends like a halfway normal person.

  "It looks like you're thinking hard," I commented as I used the tips of my fingers to smooth away wrinkles in her forehead. She always got them when she was concentrating on something.

  She puckered her lips in a request for a kiss, and I obliged with a quick peck. Anything more than that and I worried the night would be taking the express train to an NC-17 rating.

  "You're a good guy, Carter Scott."

  I let my hands wander up into her hair, tangling with the strands in a way I'd grown familiar with. "You sound surprised," I joked lightheartedly.

  "Not surprised," her lips twitch
ed, "More like...caught off guard."

  I started to ask her what she meant by that when the front door slammed open, effectively distracting us both. We turned our heads to find Travis stumbling into the house. Wren quickly sat up, and I tried not to read too much into it. The more surprising part was when Matty and Rachel carefully stepped into the house behind him. As far as I knew, neither of them had ever been to the football house before. Their grim expressions were cause for concern.

  "Is everything okay?" I asked. I stepped around the coffee table towards Travis thinking he could use some help balancing, but he waved me off.

  "Don't bother trying to help," Matty warned. The dark look he shot towards Travis gave me pause.

  Travis spun and glared at Matty. "Go away," he groaned.

  "Gladly," Rachel returned dryly.

  Wren exchanged confused glances with me. When she turned back to Matty and Rachel she offered, "Let me walk you guys out, okay?" They took her up on the offer immediately. Rachel, in particular, looked relieved as they got out of there as fast as they could.

  Travis stumbled a few steps further into the house before he managed to trip over his own feet. I studied him where he lay splayed out on the laminate flooring. He looked like he was in bad shape. I couldn't remember ever having seen him so plastered before. It also looked like he had a black eye developing.

  "What the hell happened?" I tried to ask. The only answer I got was a dry retching sound coming from his throat.

  Cringing, I went off in search of a trashcan and a glass of water. When I got back with them, I found Wren on the floor with Travis. She'd somehow gotten him to a sitting position. Her face was awfully close to his, but I couldn't bring myself to feel any jealousy with him in that current state. He wouldn't have been able to make a move on her even if he'd wanted to.