Kicking Reality

by Kat T. Masen

  It was his attempt to break the ice. I make the effort to smile at his gesture, unlike Wesley who continues to stand guarded, ice-cold.

  “Maybe I should do the same, huh? Score some British bird that wants to be around me. American women are so over-the-top.”

  “Well, don’t let me stop you,” I fire back, angry at his heartless comment. “You go have your fun and I’ll have mine.”

  That comment leaves him speechless, baring down his teeth with a clenched jaw. I walk away from them and head to my room, longing for peace and quiet.

  The room is dead silent; the kind of silence I longed for. I lay flat on the bed, my stomach against the fancy sheets, and close my eyes. When did my life become this drama-filled soap opera? Like most couples, Wesley and I had a pretty normal relationship. A few fights, only a handful of massive blow-ups but for most of the part—we had gotten along.

  Now, it was a giant mess. If the cameras filmed our actual real lives and not the ones we pretend to portray—the fans would go nuts. This is reality. Caught in this messy love triangle with two men who rivaled each other for different reasons.

  Boredom found me soon after. I posted some pictures online, replied to the thousands of comments that followed instantly. Pictures from our Victoria Secret show to our tour of London. It’s been a busy couple of days with no end in sight.

  Finally, I scroll through my phone and find an old picture of me, Ash, and Logan that Mom sent me recently. It was taken when we were eleven. A school carnival where the three of us were in charge of the cotton-candy stand. Mom snapped Ash with cotton candy all over his head from when me and Logan dared him to put his head inside the machine.

  I type a comment beneath the photo, telling everyone how proud I am of these boys winning tonight’s game. I hold onto my smile, remembering this time with happiness. These two boys were my life, and every part of me is terrified that my relationship with Logan would break us if things didn’t work out.

  I shut down my Instagram and call Mom. She had texted me yesterday to say she would fly in for a day to watch the game. As much as she would have loved to stay longer, she had a pressing deadline and Tayla back home.

  “Hey kid!” There’s a large commotion in the background. I can barely hear her over the sound of Queen blaring through the speakers.

  “Where are you, Mom?”

  “I can’t hear you, hold on, okay?”

  Waiting for the connection to become clearer, there’s a muffled sound then her voice feeds over the speaker again. “Okay I’m back . . . phew.”

  “What on Earth are you doing, Mother?”

  “We’re out at this pub celebrating the win. I forgot how much I loved pub crawling.”

  “When did you ever pub crawl?”

  “When I was a loose cannon and didn’t have three kids busting my chops.”

  “I’ve never busted your chops.” My smile turns into laughter; my body relaxing on the bed. “Are you with Ash and Logan?”

  “Yeah, I think they’re around here somewhere. I lost count of things after the second pint,” she follows with a hiccup.

  “And Dad?”

  “I think he got tattooed by a Scotsman.”

  “Mom, shut up. Dad? The two of you shouldn’t be allowed out.”

  “Come join us! We’re in the city.”

  I look at the time. It’s only half-past ten and even though I’m exhausted, I wanted a chance to see Logan. Tell him how happy and proud I am of him. Yeah right, your damn kitty is itching to get some.

  “You know what Mom? I’ll be there.”

  I jot down the pub she was currently at and hang up immediately. I’m still in the same outfit as today but decided to change. I put on a black jumpsuit with long sleeves and a plunging neckline, pairing it with some high-waisted jeans and my knee-high boots. I ditch the coat, and throw on a scarf to keep the cool air away.

  I leave the room and spontaneously decide to knock on Poppy’s door.

  “Hey Em, you’re dressed all fancy for bed.”

  Poppy is wearing her pink PJs with unicorns patterned all over it. On her feet are fluffy white slippers that looked like rabbits.

  “Pop,” I say with a smile. “Wanna go on a pub crawl?”

  “A pub crawl?” Her face lights up. “Sure! I was about to order room service and watch Titanic.”

  “Okay, that’s depressing.”

  “Let me get changed.”

  Poppy emerges wearing a black knitted top, tartan skirt, and bright red leggings.

  “Okay, I’m ready! How do I look?”

  “Like Poppy.” I laugh.

  “Let’s go, we just need to make one stop first.”

  We met Mom and Dad at a pub called Randy’s. The place is full of Royal Kings fans—dressed in their jerseys. Poppy made us stop at the concierge and had him hunt down a place that was still open that sold jerseys. We found the place not too far from the hotel and placed them on top of what we were wearing.

  The atmosphere is buzzing. Drunken patrons all singing loud and proudly buying each other rounds of drinks. There is a mix of young, old, and any other person you could think of. I spot Mom at the back; she’s got her arm around a toothless man singing to The Proclaimers.

  “Emmy!” she beams, stumbling over to greet me.

  There are many things in life you witness but watching your parents drunk is always a hoot. Dad was at the next table over, doing rounds of shots with a bunch of young guys. It was equally disturbing that the drink is called a Juicy Pussy.

  “Hey Mom.” I lean in and give her a hug. She reeked of beer and smoke. “Have you been smoking?”

  “Oh, lighten up kid. Who made you Mom?” She chuckles loudly with the toothless man.

  I take satisfaction in knowing that tomorrow she will be sporting the worst hangover and regretting her actions. Serves her right for partying so hard at forty-nine.

  I introduce Poppy to Mom. They seem to hit it off straight away and bond over another pint.

  “Where’s Logan and Ash?” I ask, scanning the pub.

  “They just left with the team for the next pub over.”

  We lasted five minutes in the pub until Dad announced it was time to pub crawl . . . again. Everyone cheered and we followed him out to the next pub over, walking along the street like a drunken march.

  The next pub is called Hudson’s Corner. A bigger joint and more crowded than the last.

  “Emmy!” Dad calls over the crowd.

  I slide my way through, holding Poppy’s hand so we didn’t separate.

  “Dad, ease up on the shots. You’re not twenty-one again. Plus, it can’t be good for your meds.”

  He laughs, kissing my cheek. “You see this, Alan? This here is my daughter Emmy. Ash’s twin.”

  “Twins?” Alan acts surprised. “Blimey! You’re gonna break some hearts.”

  “She already has.” The voice is behind me, and without turning around my smile is stuck. I twist my body and Logan is standing behind me. Dressed in a checkered navy and white shirt, tucked into his navy slacks with tan-colored shoes on his feet. His large watch is hanging off his wrist and hair styled perfectly to the side.

  He looks delicious. Like an Armani sunglasses model from a magazine. Perfect in every way.

  “Poppy, you remember Logan?”

  “Yes,” she beams with a crooked smile. “Congratulations, you smashed it today.”

  She jumps up and hugs him, much to his shock. When she lets go, he waits, searching our surroundings. I lean in and hug him, careful not to close my eyes.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispers in my ear.

  I pull back, careful not to raise suspicion and trying my best to control the heat that throbs between my legs. I’m wearing a black lacy thong, and it’s doing nothing to curb the ache; the thin piece of string rubbing against my clit making it ten times worse.

  “So anyway, where’s Ash?”

  The cocky ba
stard keeps his expression fixed, his delicious lips grinning with delight. He turns around for a moment, then turns back with his eyes directed at mine. Ash is standing in the middle of a crowd, jug in hand with bloodshot eyes, singing the team’s anthem.

  “Oh God, he’s gone,” I mutter.

  “Your brother is a toot!” Poppy says cheerily.

  “Yeah. Where is Alessandra?”

  Logan shrugs, then leans in. “People are watching us. I’ll meet you later.”

  Many people in the room had spotted me and Poppy, wanting selfies. Logan walks away and joins some other teammates, leaving us alone with the small group of fans that joined us.

  Ash spots us and runs straight to me, almost colliding with Poppy.

  “Emmy!” He hugs me tight, suffocating me with his odor of sweat and beer.

  “Alright, you’re kinda strangling me.” I struggle to remove myself from his grip.

  “Can you believe I scored that last goal? Especially since I had a huge fight with Sandy that morning. I was too pissed to tell you.”

  It explained why Alessandra seemed almost robotic that morning. I didn’t think too much of it at the time, assuming she was stressed about the game like me.

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t care. I’m so glad you’re here!”

  He suffocates me again, then stands on the table with a wobble, whistling loudly to the crowd.

  “I wanna do a speech.”

  The crowd cheers, a loud rumble with feet banging against the wooden floors.

  “Firstly, to Coach. You fucking break my balls dude and now I know why.”

  Coach Bennett tips his hat, smiling like a drunken fool.

  “To Mom and Dad. I fucking love you guys. You are the best parents ever.”

  Another loud rumble from the crowd. Mom is almost in tears, quick to wipe them away as she downs another beer. Dad looks equally emotional, wiping his eyes with a dirty napkin from the table. These two were unbelievable.

  “To Emmy. You’re my fucking sister for life. I wouldn’t have wanted anyone else shooting out of Mom’s vagina. Vagina log ride for life!” He raises his glass as every laughs.

  I scrunch up my face at the godawful speech. Mom’s vagina did not need attention. It wasn’t helping that she found it equally hilarious.

  “And to this guy.” He points at Logan with a proud smile, holding his glass to his chest. “My brother for fucking life. No one will ever come between us.”

  The crowd roars on until Ash yells drinks on him. I don’t think he was thinking straight; the room is at full capacity and would cost him a fortune. I could have said something, but chose to teach the moron a lesson and ordered a drink myself.

  Poppy and I hung out with the fans that joined us. They were a cool bunch, eager to chat but not so eager it was creepy. We drank some rounds, talked about the show, sung along to the songs that streamed over the speakers. We did a live Facebook video. Probably not the brightest idea but still a lot of fun. We crawled to another pub and by the time we got there, we began losing people to the copious amounts of alcohol entering their body.

  “Kid, we’re heading back to the hotel,” Mom slurs, Dad almost passed out at the table.

  “Did you want me to take you?” I ask, a little worried that Dad looked legless. “No, you stay here. Join us for breakfast tomorrow before our flight leaves?”

  I kiss her cheek and follow her to the street to call a cab. Logan follows with his coach, Dad in between them as they carry him to where the cab waits.

  “Are you sure we can’t help you, Mom?”

  She shakes her head. “Enjoy the night, kid. I love you.”

  “Love you too Mom.”

  The cab drives off and we’re standing on the street watching it drive away. Coach Bennett calls it a night, reminding Logan he needed to be at the studio by half past ten tomorrow for a segment.

  It’s just after two in the morning. The streets are deserted with only a few drunken people stumbling around. The night air is cool, prompting me to fold my arms to shield out the cold.

  “I’ve got a room at the hotel the next block over. You cab it, I’ll walk it.” He slips something into the back pocket of my jeans. “And by the way, you look damn sexy in that jersey.”

  “I’ll keep it on just for you,” I tease. “But what about Ash and Poppy?”

  The two of them were surrounded by a small crowd, laughing and telling awful jokes that everyone found hilarious. I tell Logan that I need to say goodbye to Poppy, heading inside to talk to her.

  “Pop, we need to talk for a sec.”

  I pull her to the ladies’ restroom, checking the stalls to make sure they are empty.

  “I need you to cover for me.”

  “Okay? Like a secret mission. Oh, how exciting!”

  “Not really,” I drag. “I’m staying at another hotel tonight.”

  “Oh, I understand. The housekeeping is tardy at our hotel.” She nods agreeing. “Did you know that I found several pubic hairs on my pillow? I mean, why on the pillow? I’m not a princess but switching rooms seemed like the best thing to do.”

  “I’m sleeping with Logan,” I blurt out.

  There’s a giant pause, her eyes wide in shock. “Um, right. Logan as in . . .”

  “Logan as in . . . Logan. I know what you’re thinking. I’m a cheater because of Wesley.”

  “Honestly Em?” She rests her hand on my shoulder, easing the tension. “I know things aren’t great with you and Wes and rumors are a rife about how he has treated you. No judgment from me.”

  “Oh Pop.” I hug her tight, almost in tears. “It feels good to tell someone.”

  “So are you like serious?”

  “No . . . I don’t know. We’re just having fun.”

  “He doesn’t look at you like just that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She opens the stall, placing the lid down and sitting on the toilet to rest her feet.

  “The moment he saw you, his face lit up. You make him happy. And trust me Em, I’m great at reading faces. I could read anyone.”

  “Really? What does my face say?”

  “You want to end this conversation ’cause you need to get laid.”

  I laugh softly. “I can’t argue that. And tell me what Wesley’s face says?”

  “He’s a wild child. Always has been. You tamed him but boys like him can only be tamed for so long.”

  “You’re telling me,” I huff. “And Farrah?”

  “That I can’t tell. The plastic gets in the way.”

  We both fall into a fit of laughter, our stomachs hurting until we manage to control ourselves.

  “Don’t worry Em, I got your back.”

  “Thanks Pop.” I hug her tight again, letting go and stroking her hair. “You’re one of a kind, you know. You should have been my twin.”

  She clutches onto her stomach barely able to get her words out. “Vagina log ride. Your brother is something else.”

  “That he is . . .” I respond, with the proudest smile on my face.

  “There are no more questions. She is mine.”

  ~ Logan Carrington.

  She’s laying on the bed.

  I watch the way her body lays waiting for me; eyes wide with a curious yet frightened stare because she had no idea what I would do to her. Her innocence radiates; a part of her that remained untouched, at least, in my eyes—she belonged to me.

  Despite my desperation to be inside her—taste her arousal all around me—I linger and savor the sight in front of me. Her eyes begin to wander, trailing down my torso and centering on my cock. The hunger consumes her. She licks her lips then bites her tongue, her chest moving up and down, the breaths hitched and barely audible.

  “Are you done eye-fucking me?” she teases with a straight face. “I thought you had this grand plan to take me however you wanted me.

  I’d fantasized about this moment for a long time, despite my reluctance to admit it. Emer
son had always been beautiful. She had this air of confidence that, for the most part, got her into trouble. She also had a sweet side, a side that not many people saw because she kept her circle tight.

  She knew she had me. Laying in the hotel bed all sexy begging me to fuck her however I wanted. I needed to do things to her. Explore my animalistic side because we both agreed to have fun and she wanted this just as much as I did.

  “You’re a tease.” Keeping my eyes fixed on hers, she moves her legs, spreading them to catch my attention. Her pussy is waiting desperately for attention. “I must be that good if you’re soaking wet just waiting for me.”

  She spreads her legs wide, raising her knees to give me a more open look. Pouting her lips, she slides her hand between her legs and brushes against her clit. Fuck. What the hell is she doing to me?

  “You mean this?” Her fingers graze the wet arousal glistening around her entrance. In small, circular motions, she rubs it gently before lifting her fingers to her mouth and tasting her arousal.

  I swallow the giant lump in my throat, covering up my need to blow on myself by just watching her. I watch for a few more seconds before I’m on my hands and knees crawling towards her. When my body is positioned on top of her, she gasps when my cock flicks against her pussy.

  “Logan,” she breathes my name. “I’m scared.”

  Her short-lived confidence is shattered as she murmurs those words. I would never hurt her. I just wanted to show her a different type of pleasure.

  “I won’t hurt you.”

  “Physically, I know.”

  There’s something in her eyes, a look that passes between us. Unsure of what that lingering emotion meant, I place my mouth on hers and kiss her deeply. As my cock begins to throb, threatening to give early, I break free from the kiss to control my urges.

  “I will never hurt you.”

  “You have already hurt me. Once.” She lifts her knee and shows me an old scar. I remember what it was from: the time when I pushed her off the zip line because she was a scaredy cat and I had never seen her scared before.

  I tilt my head, lifting her knee to meet my lips. Kissing it gently, I reassure her, “I will never hurt you again.”