Scorched Turf

by Lilah Grey

  Well, maybe more than an inkling.

  A light knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Cori stood in the doorway, her bag slung over her shoulder. I remained silent for a moment, taking her in.

  Her hair was a shade darker, still damp from showering and held in a tight bun. She wore a light, floral patterned sundress that hugged her in all the right places. Her blue eyes welled with delight, and her bottom lip quivered as she tried her best to hold back a smile.

  I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her, and every inhibition I felt earlier evaporated.

  She smiled. “Are we going to do this or what?”

  A half-smile formed on my lips as I considered what I’d like to do with her.

  “Of course.”

  “Are you at least going to give me a hint at where we’re going?”

  “Would that make you feel better?”

  Her eyes followed me as I grabbed my bag and stood. “A little.”

  “I’ve made reservations for us at the most exclusive restaurant in New York.”

  She perked up for a moment, and then her cheeks and neck flushed. “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice was shaky, but I sensed excitement, rather than nerves. “It wasn’t that big of a game.”

  She was underselling her achievements as she often did, never giving herself the credit she deserved. She worked harder than anyone else on her team, and I wasn’t going to let her sell herself short.

  “Wasn’t that big of a game?” I said, closing the gap between us. “Two spectacular goals in the first game after a major injury.” I tilted my head toward her. “I think that’s worth celebrating, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “I guess.”

  I backed up and pulled out my phone, pretending to call the restaurant. “I guess I’ll go ahead and cancel if you—”

  “No!” she blurted out, grabbing my hand. It was soft and warm and I wanted her to keep it there.

  “So you agree you played well enough to warrant a celebration?”

  She sighed and nodded.

  I reached out and mussed her hair.

  “Okay, okay! Let’s go,” she said, pulling away.

  I followed her out the door. The smell of her coconut shampoo trailed behind her, flaring my nostrils as I breathed it in. For a moment, I was transported back to high school, back to the first time I met Corinne. She was wiry and awkward and completely embarrassed to find herself in the hallway with me wearing nothing but a towel, her scarlet face matted with damp hair.

  She’d ducked into her room, slamming the door behind her. I don’t think she came out for the rest of the day.

  A smile crept up on my face. It wasn’t until I heard Corinne’s voice that I snapped out of the memory.

  “Do you think they’ll have PB & Js?” Corinne asked in a serious tone.

  “PB & Js? I tell you we’re going to the most exclusive restaurant in New York and you want a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?”

  She shrugged. “I think the PB & J has been wrongfully snubbed by haute cuisine.”

  I stared at her incredulously for a moment and then laughed. “Well, if they don’t have PB & Js, would you settle for dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets?”

  Her stony face broke for a moment before returning. “I suppose.”

  “Great, it’s settled then.” I turned off the light to my closet, and we headed to my car.

  The more time I spent with Cori, the more I began to unravel the mystery of her. It wasn’t easy; she had so many layers, some with walls built around them. Every now and then I’d find a breadcrumb, a peek at the real Corinne. And with every peek, the more I wanted to uncover the real Corinne, raw and unfiltered.

  And it frightened me.

  “This doesn’t look like a restaurant,” Corinne said as we exited the elevator and stepped inside my penthouse. “I may not be a native New Yorker, but I don’t remember the last time I had to take an elevator twenty floors and—”

  Corinne’s mouth hung open as she gaped at the back of my apartment, toward the glass wall and the skyline of Manhattan behind it.

  “Is that…” She looked at me and then back at the skyline “Holy hell,” she breathed.

  “Welcome to Chez James. The most exclusive, invite-only restaurant in New York.”

  By the time I spoke, Corinne had already dropped her bag and walked halfway down the hall toward the wall of glass at the back of the penthouse.

  I followed, standing next to her as she looked out at Manhattan and Central Park below. She looked like a child gazing into toy store window display. The glow of the city cast a soft light on her face as her slow, steady breaths fogged the glass.

  “Beautiful,” I said, speaking of her, but knowing she’d interpret it as the view. And I meant it. So much so that I had to pull back, remove myself from Corinne for the moment.

  What are you doing, James?

  The thought circled my mind as I walked into the kitchen. I opened the freezer and let the cool air wash over me, calming me.

  “So what’s for dinner, Chef?” Corinne called out to me.

  Right. Dinner. I scanned the fridge for ingredients, creating a rough menu in my head.

  “I’m afraid I’m fresh out of dinosaur chicken nuggets.” Corinne laughed behind me. “Would you settle for salmon?” I asked as I inspected a filet.

  “I’ll eat whatever you make.”

  My nerves began to subside as I focused my attention on dinner. I’ve never had my emotions fluctuate so rapidly before. But then again, I felt like this whole month had been filled with firsts. I’d never cooked dinner for someone else or invited someone over without the intent of sleeping with them.

  I took a deep breath, pushing everything else out of my head and began to work.

  CORINNE

  Holy smokes.

  I’m pretty sure the feelings rushing through me right now were the same ones Lucy felt when she stepped through the wardrobe and into Narnia. It’s incredible to think that this place existed, and that I was actually here. I think my jaw had permanently dropped, so from here on out, I’d just have to live with a constant, drooling mess.

  Calm down Corinne. Just. Calm. Down.

  My mind raced with all sorts of thoughts, none of which stuck around for more than a few fleeting moments before being replaced with yet another.

  What was I getting myself into? It felt like I’d been asking myself that question a lot lately. If you were to ask me how I envisioned this year going a couple months ago, this definitely wouldn’t have crossed my mind.

  I walked along the glass wall, my fingers trailing behind me as they glided across the smooth surface. At this distance, people were no larger than dots as they walked along the sidewalks. Cars weaved in and out of lanes. We were in the heart of the New York City, but up here, the only noise was in my head.

  I turned to James. He was hard at work in the kitchen, chopping something before tossing it into a pan. Oil spat and sizzled as he shook the pan, filling the air with pleasant aromas. I had asked him if he needed any help, but he declined, of course.

  Not that I would’ve been much help anyway. I’d hardly cooked anything other than box macaroni and cheese or frozen dinners in my lifetime. But, I would’ve enjoyed being close to him. He made me feel safe, secure, and happy.

  And that was a problem.

  I needed to focus on soccer, on getting drafted and making sure that I wouldn’t have to follow the path my mom had laid out for me. I didn’t want this season to be my last.

  But James had been a recurring theme in my thoughts lately, someone I couldn’t ignore. No matter how hard I tried to control my feelings, secure them deep inside me, the moment I saw him, breathed in his rich scent, it all unraveled.

  It was a battle I was slowly losing. A battle that a part of me wanted to lose.

  I jumped from James’s touch on the small of my back.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he rasped.

  His warm touch burned through the
thin fabric of my dress. He kept his hand there, smiling down at me; the corners of his eyelids crinkling. My heart melted as I eyed those dimples of his. My resolve was disappearing by the second.

  “Dinner’s ready.”

  “Great.”

  The heady scent of his cologne flared my nostrils, and almost immediately, my legs began to tremble, and my stomach twisted and turned. Not even Tyler had this effect on me.

  He pulled away. The skin where he rested his hand was on fire from his touch. I wanted more.

  “Have a seat,” he said, pulling out a chair as he walked by the table. “I’ll make a plate for you.”

  I smiled and glanced one last time at the world so far below us. I really was in a different world with James. And no matter how hard I tried to leave it, he kept pulling me back into it.

  It was hopeless to resist.

  20

  James

  I watched Corinne anxiously as she forked her first bit of salmon. She studied it, rotating her fork to inspect it on all sides. Although I knew my salmon was perfect—skin seared in butter, lightly seasoned with salt, pepper, parsley, and lemon—I was still nervous that she wouldn’t like it. This was the first time that I cooked for someone other than myself.

  She brought the fork into her mouth, her lips sliding across the metals prongs as she pulled it away. Her eyes narrowed for a moment and then widened; the concerned expression on her face was wiped clean and replaced with surprise.

  “Where in the world did you learn how to cook like this?” Corinne asked before turning her attention to the roasted potatoes.

  I set down the glass of wine I’d been hiding behind and smiled. “France.”

  Corinne nearly choked on a bit of potato, but she managed to swallow it.

  “You alright?” I asked, leaning toward her.

  “Fine,” she said weakly through coughs and sputters, grabbing her glass of water. She had almost downed the entire glass by the time she spoke again.

  “So… France. When was this?”

  “A few years ago. I trained with a club team over the summer. Weekly cooking lessons were an optional part of the training.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” I sipped my wine and set it down.

  “Why would a club team offer cooking lessons?” Corinne asked after a few more bites of salmon.

  “Do you cook your own meals?”

  “Sometimes,” she said, but her body language led me to believe otherwise.

  I snorted. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “I can cook a pretty mean Hot Pocket.”

  I chuckled. “I bet.”

  “But only pepperoni.”

  “Is there any other kind?”

  When I think about how I ate before I learned how to cook, I can’t help but cringe. It’s amazing that my body was able to perform as well as it did, for as long as it did, while I shoveled crap into system.

  “I used to think cooking was a useless skill. Why would I need to learn how to cook when I could go out to eat? It was easy and uncomplicated and I didn’t see the value. But that changed abruptly when my good friend Jack forced me to tag along with him to one of the classes.”

  “Jack McGregor?”

  “The one and only.”

  “My god that man is dreamy.” She rested her chin on her hand, a goofy smile on her face as though she were daydreaming.

  My chest and neck flushed as my pulse quickened. I’m not usually the jealous type, but then again, I never felt quite like this for anyone before. I took a breath, stayed my jealousy, and smiled.

  “He is, isn’t he? Something about that red hair and bushy beard.”

  “He has a beard now?”

  “Yep.”

  “Chloe will go bonkers when I tell her that. She loves beards and Jack McGregor. Combine the two and well… game over.”

  “I’ll let Jack know he has a fan. It might’ve taken him a decade, but it finally happened.”

  Corinne laughed, and I took another swig of wine.

  “So, I wasn’t hooked after the first class, but Jack insisted that I kept going. So I did. Over the next few weeks, I began to see slight improvements in my game. I had more stamina, quicker reactions, and I could move more weight in the gym. I didn’t feel sluggish at all. After a month of cooking and eating healthier, I felt like I was a completely new person.”

  “Superman,” Corinne ribbed.

  I smiled. “Something like that. I guess what I’m trying to say is that small changes can have a huge effect. You just have to be willing to test them out.”

  She knit her brow, turning my words over in her head. After a few moments, her face relaxed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, chewing her lip as she slumped back in her chair, still thinking about something.

  We finished dinner, and after washing up, we watched a bit of TV. We hardly made it through a show before Corinne readjusted herself on the couch, resting her head on my shoulder as she began to fall asleep. It felt right, natural even, something I wasn’t used to. Her face was serene, and I couldn’t help but be drawn in by her beauty. Her plump lips, the way the edges of her nose crinkled randomly as she slept.

  I wanted to kiss her but settled for just being near her. Her presence seemed to fill a void that had opened up inside of me, that I had been trying to fill for the past few months.

  I watched her chest rise and fall as she slept, and eventually, she awoke.

  “What time is it?” she asked tilting her head to me, blinking slowly.

  “Late. You should probably get to bed.”

  “I’m not tired what-so—” She was interrupted by a huge yawn. “Okay, I might be a little tired.”

  “I’ll grab you something to change into.”

  I stood up and Corinne collapsed onto the couch.

  “Sounds good,” she mumbled into the cushion.

  Corinne had already dozed off again when I came back with an extra pair of sweats and a white t-shirt. She looked so peaceful, curled up into a tight ball on the couch, and I didn’t want to wake her. I sat down next to her and brushed a few strands of hair off her cheek, pinning them behind her ear. She stirred and then looked up at me with tired eyes.

  “I hope this works for you,” I said, handing the clothes to her. “They might be a little big, but I think you can manage for the night.”

  She looked them over. “They’re perfect.”

  “Do I need to carry you to bed?” I asked. “Or do you think you can handle it.”

  “I think I can manage it,” she said, standing up, clutching the clothes to her chest.

  “This way,” I said, placing my hand on the small of her back, guiding her in front of me.

  This would be the first time anyone had slept in the guest room. It was also the first time a woman had stayed the night in a separate bed.

  Corinne hopped onto the bed and looked around.

  “The shower’s in there,” I nodded to the door in her room. “If there’s anything you need, just ask. I’m at the end of the hall.” I could feel Corinne’s gaze on me as I made my way to the door.

  “Goodnight, Cori.”

  “Hey, James,” Corinne said, softly.

  I paused in the doorway before turning around. “Yeah?”

  She chewed on her lip for a moment. “Thank you for tonight. It was really… nice of you to do that for me.” Her gaze dropped to her hands fidgeting on her lap. “No one’s ever done something like this for me before.”

  It felt like I had just been struck in the gut with a baseball bat. I was conflicted. Although I was happy that Corinne appreciated my gesture, it saddened me that this was the first time she experienced something like this. It was a simple gesture, cooking for her, celebrating her victory, but no one had done it for her before.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. And you better get used to it. If you keep playing like this, we’re going to have a huge celebration when you get drafted.”

  �
�I’d like that.”

  I rapped the door with my knuckles and left the room, but Corinne followed me in my thoughts. It had been a good day—a great day, really. Corinne made that happen. When I was with her, everything wrong in my life seemed to disappear. It didn’t matter that my professional life had unravelled. With her, I felt that I could rebuild it. With her, I felt that anything was possible.

  After finishing my bedtime ritual, I went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I walked by the guest room, I noticed that the door was ajar and glanced in as I passed by.

  Holy shit.

  It was only a fraction of a second, but what I saw burned into my mind: Corinne stood in profile, wearing nothing but a small black thong, looking at herself in the mirror. My cock hardened as my mind absorbed the sensual curves of Corinne’s lithe body.

  I couldn’t think straight; I couldn’t even walk straight and ended up crashing into the small table in the hallway.

  Fuck, there’s no way that Corinne didn’t hear that.

  I was only a few feet away from her bedroom door as I held my breath, frozen in place. But there wasn’t so much as a creak coming from her room. Complete silence.

  Eventually, I found myself in the kitchen, glass of water in hand, still transfixed by the image of Corinne in my mind.

  What would Jack say? I knew the answer. He’d tell me that I was making a huge mistake, that I was risking my career by even entertaining the thought.

  I downed my water and headed back to my bedroom. The door to Corinne’s room was wide open now. I passed by without looking in.

  “Goodnight, James,” she lilted.

  The image of her naked body flashed in my mind. “Goodnight,” I said without slowing down.

  I struggled to fall asleep as my mind’s eye retraced every delicious curve of her body.

  21

  Corinne

  I lay on my back as James kissed my stomach; his lips moved lower at an agonizingly slow pace. I tried to urge him further down with my hands but he resisted.

  “Patience,” he said, a half-smile on his lips.

  His hands caressed the length of my sides, triggering goosebumps along my arms and legs. Slowly, his sensual kisses crossed my navel. I squirmed, biting my lip in anticipation of his warm mouth against my clit.