Playing To Win: An Elite Athlete Sport Romance Anthology

by Mignon Mykel

  Coach pulls out a picture of Sydney with him at her first Miami Blaze game. Reaching over, I squeeze her thigh under the table when she covers her face over her embarrassment at her long red hair, freckled face, and braces. She was adorable, easy to see how she grew up to be such a beautiful woman.

  We top dinner off with pecan pie and singing “Happy Birthday” to Susie before we say our goodbyes. Once her parents are out of eyesight, I pull her into my arms, wrapping my arm around her waist. Burying my nose into the crux of her neck, I inhale her clean scent mixed with her floral perfume.

  “Want to take a walk down by the water?” I whisper close to her ear as we reach my car.

  She glances down at her heels, and for a second, I expect her to say no. It’s not a far walk, but I will understand if she decides against it in those shoes.

  “Yeah,” she says, catching me by surprise when she closes the distance, kissing me lightly on the lips. Our fingers mesh together as we follow the sidewalk around the restaurant down to the docks overlooking the water.

  Boats line the marina and seagulls coo overhead. We take a seat on a bench facing the water. Reaching over, I wrap my hand over Sydney’s thigh as she moves to drape her legs over mine.

  Turning to face her, I say, “I feel like tonight went well. Your mom is every bit of the woman I’d expect Coach to be with. You can see how much they love each other.”

  She smiles, running her fingers over the base of my neck, her nails dragging into my hair. The sensation causes tingles to spread through my body as I lazily glance over at her and smile back.

  “Yeah, they do.”

  “So, about last night…” I say, testing her reaction. We haven’t talked about what happened after I got home from the game. We’ve been riding this line between us. One second, she’s wanting to keep her distance and making it clear she only wants a friendship, then the next she’s waiting for me at her door wearing only my jersey.

  I don’t know what to make of it. We both have reasons to be hesitant or to worry over why this wouldn’t work, but it seems like, with every passing day, those reasons grow more and more faded as the lines between us blur.

  “What about it?” Her tone shifts. What was once quiet and relaxed is now guarded and defensive.

  “I guess I was just wondering where you stood with everything, after what happened the other night, us going out to dinner with your parents tonight.”

  Her eyebrows furrow, pulling her hand back to massage her fingers over her temples. She seems frustrated or surprised. I’m not quite sure.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I mean, I guess we are still on the same page. I’m trying to focus on my job. You need to keep your head in the game. Not much has changed.”

  Immediately, my defenses are up, guiding her legs off my lap. On one hand, I expected this. I knew it was coming. On the other, I’m annoyed because why does it have to be one or the other?

  “We were on the same page, but I also think things have changed. We’re not doing anything wrong. We are adults, Sydney, and we are fully capable of doing whatever we damn well please. Do you actually think your dad doesn’t have an idea after seeing us together tonight?” I scoff, laughing.

  Her nostrils flare as she moves to stand. She narrows her eyes at me, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m ready to go home now.”

  “Why, because you know I’m right?”

  “No, because I don’t want to be around you right now.”

  She spins and marches up the dock. Her long legs power walking, eating up the distance. I don’t bother chasing after her. If she wants to be pissed, she can be. I’m not going to argue with her, but I sure am going to punch holes in every one of her bullshit excuses.

  I don’t think this has anything to do with her job. There’s more to this than she wants to admit, and the fact she’s running away from me right now, not wanting me to see it on her face, proves I’m right.

  By the time I make it up to the car, she’s leaning against the passenger side door, arms crossed in front of her chest. I don’t bother saying anything to her this time, hitting the lock on the door as she reaches for the handle and climbs in.

  Why does she always insist on pushing every one of my buttons?

  11

  Sydney

  We sit in silence for most of the drive. When we hit the highway, Colson reaches over and turns the radio on. When he settles back into his seat, I don’t miss the ache I feel at the loss of his touch, not having his hand resting on my thigh like he had the entire drive here.

  The silence between us is deafening. I don’t know how to feel about this shift between us. Of course, I’m worried about how our jobs will change and how the people around us will feel when they find out we’ve been together.

  The part I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell him but haven’t found the words for is what happens when things go south and this doesn’t work out? All I’m going to have left is my job. Sooner or later, the newness of us together will wear off, and he’ll find something new to catch his attention.

  It’s what has happened to me all my life. Bouncing around from foster home to foster home, always hoping it would be the last time. Praying each would be the family to welcome me into their family.

  I was fourteen years old when I met my mom and dad. By then, I’d been in countless foster homes. The shit I’ve seen is enough to build walls so high, nothing or no one could ever get through.

  Shivers rack through my body from the air conditioner blowing full blast against me. Colson is so lost in his own world he doesn’t even pay attention or notice, but we’re just a few minutes away from our apartment building, so I’m not going to speak up now.

  I’m ready to get home, shed this dress, and put on my oversized sweatpants and binge eat ice cream while catching up on Grey’s Anatomy on Netflix.

  When the light turns green, Colson veers onto our street and pulls his car into the underground parking garage. Adjusting the strap of my purse, I don’t bother talking to him now. We’ve gone this entire drive without speaking to each other, and I’m not sure what more there is to say.

  “Do you mind if I grab the last of my things? I left my phone charger at your place and the clothes I wore home from the game.”

  My body flinches, feeling the whiplash and the stark contrast in the tone of his voice compared to the way the man I know has spoken to me all those times before. My eyes wince as if I’m trying to adjust to make sure I’m seeing him right.

  Is this Colson? The same Colson I’ve gotten to know over the past few weeks?

  “Yeah, sure,” I respond in utter disbelief.

  Not bothering to sit and continue this conversation, I reach for the lever to open the door. The heavy exhale of his breath from behind hits me, and I grit my teeth.

  I understand he thinks I’m being unreasonable right now. I could put so much to rest by just coming clean and telling him how I feel, but why? So he can use it to make more assumptions on what I’m thinking and feeling since he claims he knows me so well?

  My heels click on the cement beneath my feet with every step, reaching the door leading us to the elevator. We ride the entire way in silence, but what was once attraction and desire hanging between us is now a cloud of frustration.

  We’re both waiting for the other to cut to the chase and say what’s on their mind, except where Colson always has an idea of what I’m thinking, I can’t even begin to decipher the change in his tone. He knew where I stood from the very beginning. How could he be upset with me now?

  When we reach our floor, he doesn’t bother to move from where he’s leaning against the wall. Reaching into my purse in search of my key, I unlock the door and push it open.

  He walks right past me, down the hallway to my room, leaving me to stare after him. His heavy footsteps as he collects his things sound like seconds ticking by on the clock, each one counting down until he finishes grabbing his belongings and walks right out the door.

&
nbsp; Once he’s gone, I’m not sure what would lead him to come back here or even want to talk to me. Everyone ends up leaving eventually, right?

  “Well, I guess this is it. Isn’t it?” he sighs, clenching his clothes in his arm with his charger in his hand.

  “I guess so.”

  “I don’t know what it is with you constantly wanting to push me away. Listen, I know you’re used to growing up living this extravagant life, getting everything you damn well please handed to you. It seems like you’re used to always having things your way, but not all of us live this life. If you want to keep pushing me away, eventually you’re going to push me so far I’m going to walk away.”

  “Extravagant life? Is that what you think it’s been like for me growing up?”

  My mind shuts down; every word he says after that goes unheard, floating through one ear and out the other.

  He thinks I had everything handed to me. Nothing could be further from the truth. Growing up in foster homes, I wore the same clothes and shoes for three years straight. Kids teased and made fun of my “high waters.” My shoe strings were frayed and broken, so knotted from trying to keep them together. I learned quickly not to ask for anything, even something as small as an extra pair of laces was frowned upon. I was made to feel unworthy, you’d think I was asking for the sun and the moon be served on a silver platter.

  “Listen, I think your parents are amazing people, and it’s clear they’ve given you an amazing life. I don’t know what it is or why you constantly want to push me away, but you can only push someone so far.”

  “Amazing life,” I scoff, throwing my head back, laughing maniacally. Pressing my hand against my stomach, trying to ease the pain as the knot in my stomach twists further.

  “I don’t know where you get the idea I grew up living this life with everything I’ve ever wanted. I hate to break it to you, but you don’t know everything about me like you think, and you sure as hell don’t have my life all figured out.”

  His brows furrow in confusion, his nostrils flare at my reaction to him.

  “Listen, my parents have done a lot for me since they came into my life. I won’t deny it; I’ve been very fortunate to have been adopted by them at fifteen years old. It’s not easy when you’re an orphaned teenager when everyone else wants new babies who aren’t lugging around their past baggage. Trust me when I say, I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth with all my wants and needs given to me like I’m some spoiled little brat. I heard what you went through growing up with a single parent, the hardships you faced, but unlike you, I didn’t have anyone else to look after me. I didn’t have a brother or a mom who fought for me. I had myself, that’s it!”

  He takes a step toward me, reaching for my hand, realizing the error of his words. He thought he knew me. He made an assumption based on what was said at dinner, and he was wrong. The look on his face, the genuine remorse is enough for me to know he is sorry, but it has gone too far. The damage is done.

  I don’t see a way out of this now.

  “I think you should go.”

  “Wait. No. I think we should talk about this.”

  “What’s there to talk about? You seem to have it all figured out, right? You know everything there is to know about me. I just proved to you how wrong you were, and I’m done now. I don’t have anything more to say.”

  “Will you just stop?”

  “Stop what, Colson? Stop. What?” I punctuate each word with a pop before reaching down, unhooking the straps on my heels, toeing them off in the process.

  “You always push me away. Anytime I think we’re getting somewhere, you put your walls back up and push me out. Can you just talk to me?”

  “You’re right, Colson. We lived two vastly different lives, but I’ve never made assumptions for you or about how you felt. Since the moment we first met, you’ve been trying to think for me, make decisions for me. I can make decisions for myself, and I want you to go.”

  “I’m sorry,” he says, reaching for my hand. Even feeling his hands on me now, my resistance is beginning to crumble, but I know I need space.

  When I’m close to him, when I touch him, I can’t think straight. Taking a step back, I put some distance between us. Rubbing my fingers over my forehead, I massage the skin, trying to ease the building pulse.

  So much is swirling through my mind at the moment, and I just need some time to think. We’re both running high on emotions and need to call a time-out.

  “I’m going to give you space. I can tell this is what you need.” My eyes glance up at him. He’s doing it again. Trying to read me and, I don’t know why, but it only annoys me further.

  He holds his hand up. “I think we both need space right now. I know I made assumptions, and I’m sorry. I’m going to give you some time, but we’re going to talk about this again.”

  I don’t want to argue with him right now. I fully expect him not to bother once he walks out the door. What reason does he have to keep trying? Time and space won’t change the fact sooner or later he’s going to walk away, like most of the people in my life have.

  I need to protect myself, my job, and everything I’ve worked so hard for. When he does walk away, I won’t allow him to take all those things with him.

  He rubs his thumb over the side of my hand where our fingers still entwine. Glancing down at our joined hands, I let out a heavy breath before I look up at him.

  “I’m serious, Sydney. I’m giving you time, but it’s only time. Sooner or later, the time is going to run out, and I’m going to be back here. We’re going to talk about this.”

  I nod.

  He reaches his hand out, pressing it softly against the side of my face before he leans forward and kisses my cheek. His mouth lingers near my face as I tilt my head to the side, feeling his warm breath against my heated skin.

  “I’m not walking away from you. I won’t give up on us either.”

  He squeezes my fingers again, pressing another kiss against my cheek before he pulls back. He flashes me a sad smile, clenching his clothes in his hands, and turning to walk out the door.

  All I can think in this moment is how badly I wish he were telling the truth.

  12

  Rush

  After the fight, I gave Sydney some time and left her alone. At first, I believed it would only be a few days, but then it became painfully clear she was evading me. I tried stopping by her place on the mornings when I thought she’d still be home, only to have my knocks go unanswered. I started making trips into the office before practice to see if I could spot her, but her door was always closed or her light was off.

  Over a week had passed since I last spoke to her and agreed to space, but I still couldn’t manage to see her.

  Coach must’ve picked up on something being off between us when he stopped me after practice today, asking if I’d spoken to her. When I told him I hadn’t, he simply nodded his head and waved me off with a thanks.

  I wasn’t in any rush to get home from practice tonight, so I opted to shower and get cleaned up in the locker room. Some nights when I’m not feeling sociable, I’ll grab my stuff and head straight home. Then there are days like today, where I feel like nothing is pushing me to leave but the fact is I can’t stay here forever.

  A couple of my teammates invited me out for some wings and to watch some football, but I declined. I made up some excuse of having other plans for the night. In the back of my mind, I was still hoping if I stopped by her place on my way home, she’d be there.

  Except, with my luck lately, it likely wouldn’t happen.

  She’s ignoring me now, pushing me away. She’s been doing this since the moment we first met, but there’s a part of me that keeps hoping she’ll ease up and loosen the tension.

  I have to keep believing sooner or later the resistance will eventually ease, and she’ll let me in. She’s worth the fight.

  After I showered and cleaned up, I shoved all my shit into my gym bag and checked my phone. Jairo texted me
letting me know he was outside the arena ready to give me a lift back to my place. Pocketing my phone, I adjust my bag on my shoulder and waive off my teammates.

  “C’mon, man, you sure you don’t want to join us for some wings tonight?” Kinnick asks as he finishes lacing up his shoes. He leans back against the edge of his locker as Jaxsen comes walking into the room.

  “Yeah, man. It’ll be a good time. I’m sure you could find yourself a woman, too. They tend to flock there on Saturday nights when there’s football on. They know the Blaze come to hang out,” Wild says, raising his brows suggestively.

  Jaxsen Wild and Miles Kinnick are two guys on the team I have bonded with the most since moving to Miami. A niggling thought in the back of my mind has me wondering why I’m not going out with the guys? It’s likely Sydney won’t be home or even answer the door if I try, and then I’ll be left with nothing else to do.

  Except, it is the weekend, and I want to take advantage of even the slightest chance I might see her and be able to talk to her about everything that’s been going on between us.

  “Rain check? The next time you guys go, let me know. You can count me in.”

  “Alright,” Kinnick sighs, shaking his head. “You could always tell Sydney to come meet us, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure the other guys will be bringing their girlfriends with them, too.”

  “What?” I say, caught off guard. How do they know I’ve been seeing Sydney?

  “Coach Carr’s daughter. You’ve been seeing each other, right?”

  Running my hand over the back of my neck, I massage the skin attempting to ease the tension. How do I begin to explain to them what’s going on with us?

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? Bro, I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” He chuckles. “Can’t be that complicated.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. She’d love knowing that although she tries to hide it, even the guys are picking up on the fact there’s something going on between us. Clearly, we aren’t as sly as we thought we were.