by McKinley May
"Excuse me?"
"Uh, nothing." I quickly reel in my inner weirdo and hoist my backup up. "Anything else you need from me, Coach?"
She shakes her head. "Just keep up the good work."
"Will do." I stand, little flurries of excitement rushing through me. "See you tonight at practice."
"And Steel? Don't get a big head over this little chat," Coach warns. "Don't read too much into it, either. There's still a lot of soccer left to play. You've got more to prove."
I give a nod of confirmation. "Understood."
But as I turn to leave, the unthinkable happens again, and how the hell am I not supposed to read too much into this?!
Because her wide, toothy grin can only mean one thing...
I've got this scholarship in the bag.
21
Coach Hanson's halftime rants are legendary.
Whether we're winning by 100 goals or getting stomped into the dirt, the man never fails to get the team riled up. Personal insults and hostile commentary that would not fly in diplomatic conversation...his tirades are like physical slaps to the face.
Some people think his words are too harsh.
Some people find his game day demeanor too mean.
Those people are pussies.
Coach's motivational tactics might be savage, but you know what?
They obviously fucking work.
We're the number one team in the whole damn country, and today's mid-game chat is making sure we stay that way.
Parker's the first target of derision.
"Fitz! Your corner kicks look like a pile of horse shit this afternoon. Try crossing the ball into the box, not to goddamn Jupiter. Helen fuckin' Keller would be an upgrade at this point."
Next lamb to the slaughter is Zion.
"Pierce—or should I call you Dr. Dribble? We alllll get it, Superstar. Your footwork is unmatched, but that doesn't mean shit. Not sure how y'all play the game in Cali, but here in Texas we get points for kicking the ball into the net, not for being a damn show-off. Pass it or I'm sending your ass back to Silicon Valley on the next flight out."
A few of the guys snicker as Coach turns to Weston.
"Need you tighter on your man, Paine. I want you up in his fucking face, fully aware of what he had for breakfast this morn—" Coach's words come to a halt, head tilting as he gives Weston a good look. "'The hell is going on with your jersey, son?"
Everyone follows Coach's curious gaze.
Weston's usually stark-white jersey is covered in colorful stains: green, brown, orange, blue...
It's a freakin' mess.
"Lots of shit, Coach." Weston stretches out his uniform and provides explanation for each splatter of pigment. "Grass stain. This one's mud from a slide tackle. And the weirdo I'm guarding has a spray tan and cheap-ass blue hair dye, both of which are melting off onto me. Dude's like a fucking wax candle."
"Alright, enough. I don't give a damn if he pukes rainbows all over you—stay on him and shut his ass down." Coach huffs and points to the overcast sky. "The rain'll wash it out, anyway."
And it does.
The slow drizzle that plagued the first half transforms into a tsunami-tornado hybrid for the remaining forty-five minutes. Winds hitting 35 miles per hour, thick sheets of rain falling in a raging downpour, ominous clouds swirling overhead...
It's like a scene out of an apocalyptic movie.
But this is big-boy soccer. The only thing that's gonna cancel this shit is lightning, which is surprisingly absent, so we play on through God's second Great Flood.
Noah, where you at?
I'm scanning the horizon for the Ark when the final whistle blows. Our 1-0 lead from Vaughn's goal early in the match holds up and we seize the victory.
As we shake hands with the opposing team, I glance at the sideline.
The university we're playing at is a few hours away and tiny—no bleachers or benches for comfortable seating—so our fans are few and far between. Add that in with the turbulent storm and only a handful of the loyal ones remain.
There's the Goal Girls, most of whom look absolutely miserable in the cold, wet weather.
Probably wishing they stayed home for this one.
Bev and Erika catch my gaze next. They're huddled together under a giraffe-print umbrella—a souvenir Coach bought Beverley when the four of us visited the zoo last weekend. Erika waves before elbowing the bored teen and pointing my way. Bev scowls as she gives me an unenthusiastic thumbs-up.
I'll take it.
Last, but certainly not least, is Sydney.
When she looks my way, I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a mad man. I've never been a super-smiley type of dude. Always leaned more towards the passive side when it comes to emotions, but with her? I'm a damn sap.
Each and every time I lay eyes on the girl, it's like I've been injected with a shot of pure sunshine. Heart drumming against my chest, blood racing through my body, some serious below-the-belt stirring...
I'm addicted to her presence, and I need another dose.
Right fucking now.
I tip my chin towards the concessions building, tap the back of my wrist, and hold up my fingers in a '5 minutes' gesture.
I'm there in four.
Ignoring the Sorry, we're closed! sign, I head inside the abandoned property and hop over the counter. Sydney shows up a minute later, yellow rain boots squeaking against the slippery floor.
"What can I get you?" With a coy grin, I lean forward on the laminate and play the part. "Corn dog? Hot dog? Popsicle? What'll it be?"
"Is there a reason the only choices are phallic symbols?" One of her dark brows goes high, her lips lifting at the corners. "Not so subtle, are we?"
"Hey, you're the dirty-minded one who made that connection, not me. I didn't even notice," I claim with hands up in innocence.
"Surrree you didn't." Her eyes roll towards the ceiling and I laugh.
"You know who's really to blame? The dudes who originally came up with concession menus."
"That's a good point," she agrees with a grin. "They probably claimed it was more practical to sell food customers could eat without utensils, but the real reason is obvious; they wanna see people putting dick-shaped objects in their mouths."
"For sure." I nod. "Total pervs."
She chuckles as she makes her way towards me. Gathering her drenched hair in her hands, she squeezes out a substantial amount of water. "This storm is ridiculous. I feel like a drowned rat. Ick. I probably look like one, too."
I tilt my head, giving her a scrutinizing once-over. "Yeah. Kinda."
Her mouth drops. "Cam!"
"What? You're the cutest drowned rat I've ever seen." I continue with the teasing. "That make it better?"
"Not exactly." She crosses her arms over her chest. "I might put you in the doghouse for that comment. What do you think about that, huh?"
Her attempt at a menacing glare falls flat—it's just adorable as fuck.
I laugh and pat the counter in front of me. "Jump up here."
A wide smile spreads her cheeks as she hops up and swings her feet over my side, boots dangling.
"You know I love it when you're soaking wet," I say as I tug her to the edge of the counter, situating myself between her long legs. "I spent half the fucking game sneaking glances at you, thinking about all the things I want to do to you later..."
"Oh?" Desire flares in her baby blues. She wraps her arms around my neck. "Please elaborate."
I dip my mouth to her ear, about to reveal the dirty details, when suddenly the door flies open. In a flash of movement, Sydney jumps down, ducking underneath the counter.
When I see who's entered the establishment, I'm relieved Syd's got lightning-fast reflexes.
"This weather is disgusting. God." Julie pulls a compact mirror from her purse and wipes the mascara from under her eyes. "I hate the rain."
She huffs, tosses the small mirror back in her bag, and turns my way.
"You played so good today," she says in her fake, suck-up voice. "You always impress me."
Proof she didn't pay a lick of attention. I made one save that required me to move my feet and took a total of three goal kicks; not exactly a game that showcased my talent.
"What are you doing here, Julie?" I ask.
"That's how you say hello? Really?" She brings a hand to her heart like she's offended. "After all we've been through?"
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
All we've been through?
We were never even a freaking couple.
"I've missed you, Cameron." Her bottom lip pokes out as she approaches the counter. "So much. You haven't answered my calls in months."
Uh, yeah. Take a fucking hint.
I feel Sydney brush against my leg. Thank God I filled her in on the Julie situation from the start, otherwise this encounter would be hard to explain. I told her Julie was an old fling, a mistake from the past, and possibly still pining for me. Syd knows there's nothing going on with the Goal Girl—at least on my end—and that's the truth.
"What do you want, Julie?" I ask impatiently.
"I saw you come in here earlier." She glances around. "Are you alone?"
"Yup."
I lean forward, making sure Sydney is completely blocked from view.
Julie's the last person who needs to be privy to our secret. If she found out...damn. Who knows what kind of fucked-up shit she'd try and pull.
"I've been thinking about us," she purrs. "I gave you your space, but don't you think it's time we picked up where we left off? We're about to graduate, and you'll be off to play professionally. You need someone to support you, take care of you. I've always been there." She bats her eyelashes, leaning over the counter to ensure I've got a view straight down her shirt. "We were perfect together, baby. You know you miss me." With a sultry look, she pushes her boobs together until they're practically falling out of her low-cut top.
If she thinks shoving her tits in my face is gonna convince me, she's got another thing coming.
"What do you say?"
She reaches out, rubbing a hand down my forearm, and I immediately jerk away from her touch.
"No."
"What?" She tilts her head, befuddled at my response.
"You heard me," I say firmly. "I'm not interested."
"But Cameron," she whines, sounding like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. "You cannot be serious."
"More than serious. Sorry, but this—" I bounce a finger between the two of us "—is not gonna happen. Ever."
"But—"
"It's done, Julie. It's over. Shit, it's been over since summer break when I told you all this the first time." I release an annoyed breath, because this convo really does feel like deja vu. "Don't contact me anymore."
"Whatever," she snaps. "If that's how you really feel."
"It is."
She narrows her eyes at me, lets out a frustrated puff of air, and stomps out of the building.
There.
Finished with the drama forever.
Hopefully.
"She sounded pissed off. Were you too harsh with her?"
I step back, meeting Sydney's eyes under the counter as I shrug off her concerns.
"Nah. I was nicer before, but obviously that didn't do the trick. This time around required a more blunt approach." I wave her up. "Coast is clear. You can come out of hiding now."
"I dunno. It's kinda cozy." Her heated gaze travels to my crotch and she raises a brow. "Maybe I'll stay down here a little longer..."
Oh shittt.
I know exactly where this is going, and my dick reacts accordingly. I'm hard as granite in five seconds flat.
"Damn." Her wide eyes bounce from my tented shorts to my face. "I haven't even touched you yet."
"I told you I've been fantasizing about you all game," I say with a grin. "Add that in with our convo from a few minutes ago, and no shit I'm horny as hell."
"I think I can fix that for you."
She drags her hands down my abdomen and tugs my soccer shorts down, my erection springing up. Her fingers dig into my upper thighs as she settles on her knees in front of me. She dips her head back to give me a sensual smile, the seductive look making my cock twitch in anticipation.
When she wraps her palm around me, a low hiss falls past my lips.
We're just getting started when the door fucking opens. Again.
Should've locked the damn thing.
This time it's Liam with the interruption. Reddish-blonde hair wet from the storm, he shakes his head like a dog and droplets of water fly everywhere.
"Collins." He tips his chin when he spots me. "There you are."
He doesn't even question why I'm chillin' behind the counter, just ambles over and starts chatting my ear off.
"Diego's acting strange. It's the weekend, so I ask if he wants to head down to Dublin with me and Ellie later tonight and you know what he says? No. A 'no' from Mr. Party Animal himself. Never thought I'd see the day." Liam frowns. "Craziest part is I ask him why not, and he claims he needs to study. Study and Diego in the same sentence? Since when is he a total Parker? Honestly, I..."
As he rambles on, I nod every so often, grunt out an acknowledgement when appropriate, but I'm a little preoccupied with something else.
Someone else.
Sydney continues teasing me beneath the counter, her smooth hand moving up and down in slow, torturous strokes. Each time her thumb grazes the sensitive underside of the head, I bite down a groan because it feels so fucking good.
She's seriously getting me worked up, so much so I have to physically restrain my hips from jerking forward.
And then she takes it to the next level.
When her full lips wrap around my cock, I can't contain my reaction.
"Shit."
I curse, both hands white-knuckling the edge of the counter as her warm, wet mouth surrounds me.
"I know, right?" Liam seems to think I'm agreeing with whatever the hell he's bitching about. "That's what I'm saying, mate. Anyway, then I told him..."
I bite on the inside of my cheeks, trying like hell to keep it together. But as Sydney skillfully works her tongue, the sensations driving me wild, I know there's no fucking way I'm gonna last. I'm a minute away from blowing my load, and I really don't wanna be listening to Liam babble during the grand finale.
"Dude," I manage to get out between gritted teeth. "I'll meet you on the bus, okay?"
My polite way of saying "fuck off" works.
"Er, alright." Liam gives a confused nod and starts walking towards the exit. "Bus leaves in ten, so don't miss it. Oh, and get me some popcorn, will you? Cheers."
The moment the door shuts behind him, I let out a satisfied groan.
"Fucking finally."
My eyes dart down to the pretty brunette sucking me off. She blinks those big blue pools at me, lust and pleasure swimming in their depths.
I've never seen anything hotter in my damn life.
I palm the back of her head, fingers twisted in her soft hair. I'm so fucking turned on, my breaths become ragged, my dick hardening in her mouth. She can sense I'm getting close, her head bobbing faster in response.
"God damn, Sydney." My grip tightens, my hips thrusting forward as she takes me deeper. "Just like that, baby."
She pumps her hand up and down my shaft with fast, desperate strokes. When she swirls her tongue around the head of my cock and moans, the vibration sends me straight to the edge.
My balls tighten, waves of ecstacy surging through my system as I let out a growl of pleasure.
"I'm coming," I mumble in warning. "Fuck."
I try to pull out, but she wraps an arm around my back, refusing to let me leave her mouth.
Holy shit, that's hot.
My head lolls back, a guttural sound escaping me as I bust down her throat.
It takes me a full minute to recover from the mind-blowing climax. When I come back down to Earth, Sydney's sit
ting up on the counter, that lustful gaze still present.
"Okay," I begin as I glance at my phone. "We've got seven minutes before I gotta get on the bus. You have two options. One: we stuff ourselves with all this candy." I wave a hand across the various types of chocolate and sour gummies on display. "Or two: I take you in the back room, bend you over, and rock your world." The thought has my dick already prepared for another go. "Your choice."
Sydney taps a finger to her chin before a wicked smile spreads across her face.
"How about both?"
"Both?"
Her cheeks flush with color as she nods.
I grab a handful of colorful candy packages in one hand, then wrap my other arm around her waist and pick her up. She squeals in delight as I toss her over my shoulder in one easy swoop. I give her a slap on the ass and carry her towards the back of the building.
"You're my kind of girl."
22
The last week of the month has me and Cameron squeezing in as many seasonal activities as we can.
First on the agenda was a visit to the pumpkin patch—one a good forty miles out of town to avoid running into anyone we knew.
Dressed in matching flannels like one of those adorable color-coordinating couples, we took as many photographs as we could. Some were Christmas-card-worthy portraits, wide smiles amongst an abundance of gourds and hay stacks. But most were absolutely ridiculous. The pic I snapped of Cam holding two ginormous pumpkins in front of his chest like a massive pair of orange boobs had us keeling over with laughter.
And the one of me with a leg wrapped scandalously around a scarecrow, a seductive finger pressed to my bottom lip?
Yeah...that is not going on social media.
This past Saturday night, we took Bev and Carlos to Midnight Massacre Haunted House. Personally, I wasn't a big fan of the constant jump scares. Every time a creeper with a bloody chainsaw or some other tetanus-infested weapon popped out, I screamed like a banshee and latched onto Cam's arm in fear.
I'm pretty sure I permanently bruised his bicep.
Bev and 'Los, on the other hand, had the time of their freaking lives. The pair of horror junkies laughed and talked like old pals, barely even acknowledging Cam and me the entire outing. I swear I saw them holding hands a few times, but it was too dark to be certain.
