Текст книги "Game On"

Автор книги: Katie McCoy

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

So I said goodnight to Mandy and to Chris, went back to my hotel room and took a long, cold shower.

Chapter Ten

When I got to the field the next morning, the stands were full, but there was no sign of Mandy. I hoped that this was an indication that last night had gone well, not the other way around. Some of the girls in the stand gave me a wave and I waved back. I was making friends. Then one of them flipped me the bird. OK, maybe not. Perhaps she had been at the party last night and saw me walk away from the hottest guy in baseball. I didn’t mind. Internally, I was doing the same thing to myself.

It wasn’t hot yet, but I could tell the day was going to be another scorcher. This time I had been the one to come prepared, with two large bottles of cold water and a baseball hat I had bought at the campus store. Figured it couldn’t hurt my chances with the star player if I wore his colors across my brow. Besides, I looked pretty cute in a baseball cap.

When I got to my seat, however, there was a box sitting there, with a note on top.

Just in case I need your services at the next party. –Nathan.

I opened it to find several bottles of Coffee-Mate Café Mocha and a thermos of iced coffee. My preferred form of payment, or so I had told Nathan the first night in the bar. This was really fucking nice.

I had been there about fifteen minutes, watching a few players emerge from the locker room and begin to warm up, before Mandy arrived. She wore the sweet, rumpled look of someone who had overslept, along with the remnants of make-up and a big smile that indicated a really good night. By the time she reached me, she was already blushing furiously.

“Morning,” I said, handing her a bottle of water. I could barely hide my own smile. Clearly the night had gone quite well.

“Morning,” she said, her pale skin flushing even more. She kept her eyes down and I realized why when Chris rushed across the field, having obviously waited a few minutes before heading towards the locker room. As he passed the guys warming up, he was greeted with a ruckus of hoots and hollers.

“My man!” some of the guys shouted, while a few slapped him on the back. But Chris just waved them off, rushing to get dressed, but not before turning back and flashing Mandy a huge smile.

She went crimson, but smiled back.

“Good night?” I asked innocently.

Mandy leaned back in her seat, half of the water in her bottle gone, and gave a long, satisfied smile. “It was amazing,” she said. “Completely amazing.”

“Tell me everything,” I said, though my attention was momentarily captured by the sight of Nathan coming out onto the field. My heart sped up at the sight of him, my palms went damp, and my mouth went dry. He was just so good-looking. And nice. That was the thing that kept surprising me. He didn’t have to be nice, but he was. From my experience with men, most guys in his situation relished the opportunity to be enormous dicks because they could. If they had the talent and the looks, they certainly didn’t care about being decent, let alone kind. But everything about Nathan pointed to him being a really good guy.

The world was going to love him. I could only hope that I could protect myself from the same feelings.

“He was so nice all evening and we were having such a good time. He was polite, and not pushy at all, though I kind of wanted him to be,” she said with a smile, one of her curls wrapped around her finger. “So, when he offered to drive me home, I had to invite him up.”

Good girl, I thought. Chris was clearly trying to be a gentleman, but it was also clear that Mandy had waited long enough for him to make his move.

“Bet he was pretty excited about that,” I said.

“You should have seen his eyes,” she giggled. “I’ve never seen them so wide. I’ve also never seen him move so fast. He was at the passenger side door in a flash.”

“He opened the car door for you?” I asked, trying to remember the last time I had seen a guy do that. Good for you, Chris, I thought.

“He was a total gentleman all evening,” she said. “Except when I kissed him.” Her smiled went positively wicked. “Then he was all man. All night.”

We went over each and every detail of Mandy and Chris’ date, the cheers of the girls in the stands and the thwack of bats propelling balls across the field providing the background noise. Occasionally I would feel that little twinge of jealousy. Followed immediately by a feeling of guilt. I was happy for Mandy. Of course I was. From the very first moment I saw her and Chris together, their mutual attraction had been obvious. It had basically taken everything in my power not to grab their heads and smush them together, yelling, “Kiss! Kiss!” I was really glad I hadn’t done that, since it seemed like they had just needed a teeny little push to get their act together.

As practice ended, the guys were sitting towards the shade, some spread out on the grass. They were all watching Chris, who appeared to be in the middle of some grand speech, and both the head coach and assistant coach stood with their arms folded shaking their heads.

“What’s going on?” I asked Mandy.

She looked up and smiled. “He’s doing the big speech.”

“The big speech?”

“Before a game Chris usually gives everyone a pep talk. He’s pretty good at—a good mix of encouragement and trash talk.” She got up, placing her camera gently on the seat. “Come on.” She pulled two large water bottles out of her bag. “Let’s see what he has to say about beating Baylor next week.”

“Are we allowed on the field?” I asked, but dutifully followed. She handed me one of the bottles and I and got a pretty good idea of what she was up to. Getting involved wasn’t a good professional move, but hell, I had gone to a frat party last night and behaved myself, surely I could raise a little hell this morning.

“Practice is over. The guys don’t mind.” Mandy unscrewed the lid of her water bottle and hid it behind her back. Some of the players on the field noticed her and wisely began inching away from Chris. He didn’t seem to notice, as he was completely lost in his own speech.

“And we’re going to kick their ass because we have the best pitcher in the league—” he shot a look at Nathan, who had been watching me. Mandy and I froze, worried that Chris would turn around, but Nathan’s eyes zoomed back to Chris and he crossed his arms.

“You still can’t decorate my truck,” Nathan retorted, to the amusement of the rest of the players who hooted and cheered.

“It’s a show of pride, my friend.”

“It’s my truck,” Nathan told him, firmly. “You don’t touch it.”

“Pretty rousing speech,” Mandy offered and Chris whirled around. His face lit up at the sight of her.

“Thank you,” he agreed. “I’m good at getting people worked up,” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Getting them hot.”

Mandy caught my eye and I quickly unscrewed the cap on the water bottle I had hidden behind my back.

“Well.” Mandy gave Chris a wicked grin. “Better cool off then,” she said as she dumped the entire bottle of water over his head. And before he could even respond, I did the same.

The team broke out in cheers and laughter as Chris sputtered, water soaking his uniform.

He shook his head, spraying all of us. Mandy laughed and Chris narrowed his eyes, a playful smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he told her.

“Am I?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“Oh yeah,” he promised, and before she could move, he had grabbed her around the hips and pulled her towards the water table where cups of water were neatly lined up. Grabbing one, he dumped it over her head. She shrieked and wiggled out of his grasp, but he wasn’t done.

“Get ’em!” he shouted at the rest of the team and it took me a few seconds to realize that I was included in that statement. I whirled around, just barely missing the cup of water that was tossed in my direction. I yelped as it hit me in the back, a refreshing splash of water soaking me through. The player that had thrown it gave me a not-so-sheepish shrug.

Sprinting towards the refreshment table, I managed to grab two cups of water before full-on madness broke out.

Suddenly water was splashing everywhere, everyone grabbing for cups of water and flinging them every which way. I ducked and twisted, trying to avoid any huge splashes, but still getting hit on my side and legs. It felt amazing in the heat, and I was having fun, laughing and running, dodging ballplayers and streams of water. Through the melee, I saw both Mandy and Chris, still locked in each other’s arms.

Distracted, I didn’t look where I was going and ran smack dab into someone. But the moment my hands went up, grabbing at firm muscle and strong biceps, I knew that it was Nathan. I looked up through my wet hair to find him staring down at me, both of us soaked, our clothes plastered to our bodies.

“What do we have here?” he smirked.

He had a hose in his hand and water was gushing all over my shoes.

“Gimme that,” I demanded, reaching for it, but he pulled away. I looked down at his body and wished that I hadn’t. Wet, white pants made for quite the visual. My mouth went dry.

But I couldn’t grab for him, so I reached again for the hose instead. He held it back, just out of my grasp.

“Give it to me!” I demanded.

I grabbed once again for the hose, this time managing to get a grip on it. But Nathan wouldn’t let go. This was a tug of war, and I was determined to win.

Nathan looked me in the eye, his own eyes glinting. “Hey Sophie, can’t get enough of my hose?”

“You wish,” I shot back, tightening my hold.

I gritted my teeth and gave the hose a sudden yank. He held firm. I guess I had to bring out the big guns. I thrust out my chest, taking full advantage of my wet T-shirt. Nathan faltered, his gaze fixed on my boobies. A-ha! The hose loosened in his grasp—now was my chance.

I ripped it away from Nathan and pressed my thumb over the end of the hose, directing the full force of the spray right into his chest.

“Triumph is mine,” I hollered.

“Not so fast.” He lunged for the hose, bending it so the water stopped. Oh, hell no. He wasn’t going to have the last water word.

I pulled the hose back toward me, but evidently too hard, stumbling backward and in the process losing control of it and spraying myself fully in the face. It burned up my nose, and I got the horrible feeling I was going to cry.

“Now you know how it feels,” he taunted.

“Fuck you, Nathan Ryder.”

Nathan quickly grabbed the hose away, but I let him have it. I was already wet and embarrassed and totally pissed. “Sophie, I—” he said apologetically, but I threw up my hand and stalked away.

Mandy ran over to me. “Are you OK?” she asked, somehow procuring a towel, which I used to dry my face. When I was finished, I noticed that most of the players had disappeared into the locker room. Including Nathan.

Oh no, I thought. He wasn’t going to get away so easily.

I needed to get my interview with him. But I also knew that every time I tried to ask him something personal, he dodged the question and ended up turning it around to where I was either admitting something about myself or leaning in to kiss him.

The thing that killed me was that I knew that half of my co-workers already thought that I had slept my way into my position, despite the fact that my editor-in-chief was a happily married father of three who had made absolutely no advances toward me and was generally a pretty decent guy. Unlike most of the senior staffers I worked with, who made no effort to hide the predatory looks they gave me. Surely most of them figured I had gotten this assignment—interviewing a young, handsome athlete—because I was also young. And no doubt, they assumed I was going to use my feminine wiles (aka my boobs) to get what I wanted from him. And the last thing I wanted was to prove them right.

I was tired of this. I wanted my interview. And if Nathan thought I was going to be deterred by him going into the locker room, well, he was just wrong.

“Sophie!” I heard Mandy call behind me as I pounded down the stairs into the dugout. “Sophie, where are you going?!”

The locker room smelled exactly as I had expected it to smell, musty and hot. Like socks and deodorant. The sound of water and men’s laughter echoed around me as I tucked a wet lock of hair behind my ear, squared my shoulders and prepared to confront the person who thought he could run from me. Too bad it was going to be in a wet T-shirt.

As I came into the main room, the reaction to my presence was immediate.

“Hey!” voices cried around me, as hands grabbed for towels and my senses were overwhelmed with an overwhelming amount of naked butts and jock straps. “You can’t be in here!” guys were shouting.

“I just need to talk to Nathan,” I said, keeping my eyes straight ahead of me. I hadn’t really thought that there would be this many naked men around me. If I had prepared myself more, I might have found it funny; as it was right now, I was feeling terribly awkward and embarrassed.

“Sophie?” a familiar voice came from around me. I put my hands over my eyes.

“Please tell me you’re wearing clothes, Chris,” I said before I turned around.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, letting out a sigh when I didn’t lower my hands. “And yes, I’m wearing clothes.”

I peeked and saw that he was still in his uniform.

“Why are you here?” he asked again.

“I’m looking for Nathan,” I told him.

He let out another sigh, but this time with a smile. “Of course you are.”

“Sophie?” Another familiar voice, but one that never failed to send a shiver up my spine. Only this time, it was accompanied by irritation. I turned around, half hoping that this time, the man in front of me would be naked, but unfortunately Nathan was decent.

Well, half decent.

He was clearly heading towards the shower, a towel tied around his waist, his beautiful torso lined with beads of water, or sweat, that I had the sudden desire to lick off his skin. Whatever part of me thought this was a good idea, that I would somehow be safe surrounded by other people, was waving a white flag and lowering the drawbridge.

“What are you doing here?” Nathan asked, grabbing my arm. Suddenly I remembered why I was here, why I had stormed in in the first place.

“I want my interview,” I told him, trying to regain some of the indignation that had sent me here.

“You’ll get it.”

“No,” I said, crossing my arms. “I want it now.”

“You want to do the interview now?” he asked, looking thoroughly amused.

“I—” I quickly realized that I was definitely not prepared. Not just for the interview, but for talking to a half-naked Nathan. “But we’re going to decide when it’s going to happen. Right now.”

“We could have talked about this outside,” he said, lowering his voice. People were staring, after all.

“You left!” I told him. “You walked away from me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking somewhat reproachful. He ran a hand through his wet hair. “It’s just, well, after last night. I was just disappointed.” He leaned in closer to me and it took everything in my power to not just melt into a puddle at his feet. If he had smelled good to me before, this after practice, sweaty pheromone version of himself was almost too much to bear. “I thought we were having a good time.”

He looked so hopeful, so earnest, that I wanted desperately to kiss him. Instead, I leaned back and tried to ignore the disappointment that came over his face.

“I can’t,” I told him.

“I know,” he said.

“It’s better for both of us if I can just finish the interview and get out of your hair,” I told him, though I hated saying it. Like I had told Mandy, I barely knew him, but I felt a bittersweet twinge at the thought of not seeing him again. It was unreasonable, I tried to remind myself, but the sadness remained.

From the look on Nathan’s face, I could tell he was feeling a variation of the same. Maybe not sad, but definitely disappointed.

“It’s nothing personal,” I said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder. I wished it could be personal. I wished things were different. I also wished I had kept my hands to myself. Stupid Sophie. His skin was warm and wet and wonderful, and I regretted the touch immediately. Quickly I pulled back my hand, but my palm still tingled.

He looked at me with a now familiar heat. “I know.” He glanced away and took a deep breath. Suddenly we were back to interviewer and subject. The way it was supposed to be.

I gave him one of my don’t-be-mad smiles. “Tell you what,” I offered. “If you let me interview you tonight, I’ll let you pick the place.”

Chapter Eleven

He chose a bar. Not just any bar, but an extremely noisy one directly across the street from my hotel, called Stubbs. One with peanut shells on the floor and sticky spots all over the table and five-dollar pitchers. A bar filled with people who only seemed to be able to communicate by shouting at each other. One with a stage that looked like it was going to be occupied at some point in the evening by a local band, but not be able to properly support their entire weight. The whole place had a live-in, neighborhood-dive-bar kind of feel. The kind of place my mom usually found her latest paramour. The kind of place I had essentially grown up in. And probably the worst possible place to try to record a conversation.

But I wasn’t going to let Nathan deter me. He was clearly still nervous about the interview, but I was losing my patience. All I was doing was my job. He knew that I was coming, he knew what I was here for. I put my recorder on the table in defiance, in between our beers. He raised an eyebrow at it but didn’t say anything.

I had prepared for this evening like I was preparing for war. A war of civility and charm. Everything I was wearing was meant to make him feel comfortable but not too comfortable. My lips were red, but not too red, my smile friendly but not flirtatious. My shirt was snug, not tight, and my hair was straight and pulled back in a ponytail. I had made myself attractive but slightly aloof. Last night I had let my guard down and boundaries had been tested. I could still feel Nathan’s breath tickling my ear, his voice low and sexy, his fingers brushing aside my wild hair. If the song hadn’t interrupted us, I would have let him have his way with me. And I would have had my way with him back. But we both knew that was a bad idea. Clearly he felt the same if he had chosen to do our interview in such a loud, public place. So tonight I was a professional. I was here to do a job. But I couldn’t deny that I got a certain little thrill from the thought that I made him as nervous as he made me.

“So,” I said, sliding my phone, recording app cued up and ready, closer to him. “Tell me what you love about baseball.”

He raised his eyebrows at me and crossed his arms. His shirt was stretched across his gorgeous chest, straining against the muscles in his shoulders and biceps. Everything he wore fit him perfectly, molded to his lean form.

Before, he could answer, however, there was a loud commotion from the other end of the bar where the stage was.

“Great,” Nathan said with a smile. “The band is setting up.”

I glanced over my shoulder to confirm and did a double take. You had to be fucking kidding me, I thought, as I watched Nick and his band set up their instruments on the rickety stage.

“Dammit,” I muttered to myself, turning my back to the stage completely. This was the last thing I needed right now. “Can we go somewhere else?” I asked, hating the pathetic way the question came out of my mouth.

“Why?” Nathan asked, popping a peanut into his mouth and tossing the shells on the floor like the rest of the patrons. “Not a fan of the band?”

“You could say that,” I responded through gritted teeth.

“I’ve heard they’re pretty good,” he said. “Not from around here, though.”

“They’re from Houston,” I told him, getting up from the table. “Can we please go somewhere else?”

“Isn’t that where you’re from?” Nathan asked.

“Yep,” I said, standing next to the table, making eyes at the door.

“Great,” Nathan smiled. “Then they should make you feel right at home.”

But before I could answer, I heard Nick’s voice crackle through the microphone.

“Good evening, Austin,” the baritone I had once found sexy called out to the crowd. For all his personal faults, Nick was a great performer. It was the reason I had fallen for him in the first place. Seeing him on stage was seeing the most attractive version of himself. It was the rest of the time that had been problematic.

Why was he here? My ego would have liked to believe that he regretted breaking up with me and had followed me to Austin in an attempt to win me back with some big romantic gesture, but my logical side remembered that when he had broken up with me, he had had no idea where I was, just that I wasn’t there. This whole thing had to be the world’s worst coincidence. Unless…

I glanced over at Nathan who was looking up at the stage with a smile on his face. I hadn’t pegged him as the kind of guy to plan something like this—to purposefully take me to a place where my ex-boyfriend was playing—but I also knew that I had let myself be half-blinded when it came to him.

“Let’s just stay for their first set,” he said, his eyes twinkling. I really didn’t want to believe he had done this on purpose, but what other explanation was there?

Then I heard the familiar first chords of a song I had hoped never to hear again. I sat down.

“This is a song about a girl I knew,” Nick said, and I could hear Anne Marie’s stupid little tambourine jangling in the background. This song, this awful, stupid song that I had once found terribly sexy and romantic, had never had a tambourine in it before. That bitch, I thought. My boyfriend wasn’t enough for her; she was even moving in on my song.

The band joined in, pretty much drowning out the tambourine, but my relief was short-lived as Anne Marie began crooning into the microphone. She was singing now too? Guess sleeping with Nick really was the best option for her, career-wise. I wanted to be more annoyed at her, but I couldn’t help but admire the girl’s moxie. It also helped that the entire audience winced when she started in on her off-key ooh-la-las—another new addition to the song.

I risked a peek back at the stage and found Nick at the center, strumming his guitar, looking pale and angular, dressed all in black. His usual performance attire. I hated to admit it, but he looked good. I was struck with the memory of why I had liked him in the first place. He looked like he belonged up on that stage. He looked confident and comfortable. It had been easy to assume that that’s how he was in the rest of his life, instead of lazy and unmotivated.

Next to him, clutching the microphone in one hand, jangling her tambourine in the other, was Anne Marie, also dressed in black, but her outfit was more ripped and suggestive. She looked as if she had barely escaped a crowd of especially vicious wolves, her dress practically in tatters, holding onto her curves for dear life. I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt, wishing I had known I was going to be confronted with my ex-boyfriend and his new paramour this evening. I would have worn my red dress.

Now I just wanted to leave before they started into the chorus of the song, but a glance over at Nathan showed that he had settled into his seat, his mug of beer halfway empty, another full one being placed on the table next to it, along with a flirtatious smile from the waitress, which I was vindicated to see him ignore. His focus was on me, that same satisfied smile on his face—a smile that felt like a sock in the gut. Clearly he had hoped the band would be loud enough that we couldn’t do the interview. Little did he know how much he was going to regret bringing me here. I took a long swig of my beer, as if that could make this whole thing go away.

It didn’t take long for Nathan’s smile to flicker and fade as Nick leaned into the microphone and began singing the chorus in his sexy baritone.

“Soph-ie, Soph-ie, how I love it when you kiss me. When you touch me. When you love me. Soph-ie, Soph-ie, don’t you leave me, don’t you leave me.”

When he wrote it, I had found it charming. What girl didn’t want a song written about her? But it wasn’t even really about me. It was just a good rhyme, Nick had told me one night, effectively removing all the magic and romance from it. From that point on, the song had always felt like a lie. Now, it was an embarrassment. And one that never seemed to end.

Usually the chorus repeated itself, but it appeared that Nick had gained some inspiration since I had left him and launched into a completely new section. One that he practically growled into the microphone.

“Soph-ie, Soph-ie, put your arms around me. Put your legs around me. Put your lips around me.”

I wanted to die. I was pretty sure that if there had been a bottle nearby I would have tossed it at the stage. And my aim was pretty good when I was mad. I began looking around for something just as destructive. Anything to stop Nick from singing about our sex life. The same sex life that had been remarkably uneventful for half of our relationship. Not that you’d be able to tell from the way he was singing about me. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought I was some hot-to-trot sex kitten that lived for fucking and blowjobs. Not that I was against either of those. With the right person.

I looked over at Nathan, whose eyes were darting between me and the stage. I then looked up at the band and realized that not only was Nick singing about me, he was singing at me. Somehow, in the dim light of the bar, despite the lights blasting the stage, he had still managed to pick me out of the audience. Staring and singing.

Poor Anne Marie, I thought, as she clanged her tambourine and glared at both of us. No matter how many tambourine solos she was given to play, or ooh-la-las she was given to sing, the song was always going to be mine. It was always going to be my name, my memory. From the stage, Nick flashed me a smile and I could feel half the room shift their attention to me.

Nathan, on the other hand, hadn’t taken his eyes off of me since the second part of the chorus had begun.

“Is that– Is this song– Is it—?” he couldn’t seem to finish any of his sentences. This evening couldn’t be any more of a disaster. As Nathan sat there with his mouth hanging open, I sat down and put my head on the table and waited for the music to end.