Forgetting the Rules: A Second-Chance-Romance Sports Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  “Did you see your feature on the rumor website?” Pax asks him.

  CJ blows out a breath and scrubs his cheek with his fingernails. “It’s been a really weird day. I’ve had chicks messaging me, and guys are messaging me asking for details…” He shakes his head. “I just hope my mom doesn’t see it.”

  “It’s not true, right?” I ask.

  “Well, not entirely.”

  I stand straighter, panic stirring in my chest. “What in the fuck does that mean?” I ask.

  “Shit.” Pax rubs a hand across his brow. “Only the teacher gets in trouble in these cases, right?” He looks at me.

  CJ Shakes his head. “It’s not like that. She was a student-teacher, and I had graduated before we got together.”

  “How would anyone know?” I ask.

  CJ shrugs. “Beats the hell out of me. You don’t think this will impact my place on the team, do you?”

  Paxton pats CJ on the shoulder. “No. If you had graduated and were over eighteen, it would be consensual.” But as Pac reassures him, I can hear the dread in his voice—because this time, the rumor is bordering on truth.

  Paige, the director of Beacon Pointe, claps her hands. “Thank you all for coming back out. We made a lot of progress in these past two weeks. We were able to remove most of the graffiti, and a local arborist volunteered his time and cleaned up all the trees and bushes.”

  I look around as she says this, noting how much work still needs to be done compared to the triumphs she’s listing.

  “We still have quite a lot of trash to pick up, and today we’re going to be working on repairing the fence, and we have some volunteers here to help install footers so we can build a bridge that will go across the stream.”

  “What’d I miss?” Luis asks quietly as he stops beside me, his breaths labored from running.

  I shake my head. “More trash to clean up.”

  He pulls in a breath through his nose in an attempt to calm his breathing. “All right. We’ve got this. Do we have to check in again?”

  I shrug. “She hasn’t made it that far.”

  Luis starts to say something in response as Paige continues with instructions, but my attention immediately shifts to Rose. She’s standing at the edge of the group beside Olivia and Chloe. In a group setting, Rose is always in the middle, drawing attention, whether wanted or not. Seeing her on the outskirts, her gaze unsure as she peers around, reminds me of that time I told her she was in the wrong study group.

  Luis elbows me. “Ready?”

  I straighten, focusing my attention on the makeshift desk where people are checking in. I head over, getting lost between groups of kids as I wait for my assignment. My thoughts are at war with each other. I want so badly to hold on to the anger I feel right now toward Rose, and yet, her unease and Arlo’s assurances are making the battlefield stretch further and further.

  “You’re going to be picking up some debris and garbage over here today, near the woods,” Penny, the woman with purple hair, tells me. She points at a map that’s taped to the table. “You’re going to need a red vest, gloves, and a bag. You’ll find that all over there, and then you’re heading straight back toward the river.”

  I head toward the station and gather my things. When I turn around, Arlo waves at me from where he’s in line with Chloe, Tyler, Cooper, Vanessa, Olivia, and Rose. Agitation climbs my spine like a ladder. Right now, I just need ten minutes to myself in a closed room with my paintbrush and canvas or on the field where I can tackle any damn son of a bitch who dares to come close enough to me.

  I stop in front of them, intentionally standing next to Tyler because he’s the furthest from Rose.

  “Trash again?” Arlo asks. “I’m going to have jokes all year about this.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I say with a grin, hoping it looks sincere because right now, I’m itching to move away as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you guys out there.”

  I turn and make it a hundred feet, one of the first to get to work, allowing me the moment of reprieve I’m so eager for before I hear my name being called.

  “Ian!” Rose calls my name again, but I don’t stop or turn around. I know all of my words would be scathing because, despite reason and logic, I still want to be mad at her, and Rose has a way of making me forget what I know is real.

  “Ian!” She jogs to catch up. “Can we please talk? Five minutes.”

  I stop, and she nearly runs into me. She takes a measured step back and raises her chin. “Two,” I tell her.

  “I want to explain. I know I promised I wouldn’t write about the site, and I didn’t. The articles published last week, those were all mine. Today, that crap about the site, that was not mine. That was all Anthony.”

  I want to believe her—the scary thing is, I do believe her—yet I still feel like she drove a stake into my back.

  “I’m sorry that it happened. If I’d known, I would have tried to stop it or at the very least given you a heads up,” she continues.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her.

  She blinks. “It might. From what I understand, they’re going to be more damming. Maybe you guys can get ahead of this and take Hoyt’s approach. Own up to the images and spin the narrative.”

  “No one cares. No one’s even paying attention.”

  Surprise has her brows arching. “They’re clearly trying to do something more than just post scandalous pictures.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I repeat.

  “No one has to know if the secrets are true or not. If you guys—”

  “I’m done,” I say, interrupting her. “I don’t want to play these games. I don’t give one fuck about some asshole behind a keyboard.” I point in the direction of the line at the check-in table. “Girls are blowing up their phones and social media accounts. If this person thinks they’re fucking us over, they’re wrong.”

  Rose stares at me, her green eyes scanning over my face. For once, she’s silent, and fuck me if it doesn’t annoy me. I want her to argue and pick a fight because I have so much anger rippling through my veins and thoughts that need an outlet.

  “That’s good. You shouldn’t care,” she says.

  We stare at each other for several seconds, her eyes expressive and bright though she says nothing more. “Why do you care?” I ask. “What are you doing? Why are you here? Why are you apologizing for the article if you weren’t involved?”

  Her mouth falls open, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “What is this? Why do you show up at my house and follow me with your eyes? Why do you care about these damn pictures or the stupid goddamn site?”

  She takes another step backward, her green eyes shifting between mine as a dozen unspoken words remain locked behind her lips.

  I take a step closer, anger vibrating in my chest. “Dammit, Rose. Would you just tell me for once what you’re thinking?”

  She moves in one fluid step, so fast I don’t have a chance to respond. She twines her arms around my neck, and I barely register that her hair smells like summer, fresh and new, before her lips collide with mine. It’s a challenge and a punishment all rolled into one demanding kiss that is all pressure and intention. I drop the supplies still in my fists and grasp her waist, skating my fingers beneath the hem of her shirt and finding her warm, silky flesh. I dig my fingers into her skin and pull her closer to me, feeling her warmth invade me, dancing on the flames of my anger and managing to somehow make them grow and wither at the same time. I contest the feeling, sweeping my tongue along the seam of her lips.

  She responds with a gentle moan that makes me instantly aroused, but more than that, it triggers that same feeling I get when I’m on the field, the one that has me feeling like I’m more than a man—more than my future—and for a moment I want so desperately to get lost in this feeling and ignore all the doubt and trepidation that has prevented me from kissing Rose over the past several months because I know that this is going to change everything—and know
ing her rules, I know those changes won’t be in my favor.

  Annoyance and betrayal blow on the flames in my chest as I claim her mouth, tasting the spearmint on her tongue as it slides against mine with an equal level of defiance and determination.

  Her grip around my neck tightens, pulling our bodies even closer together. I slant my head and oblige, kissing her deeper as her hands rake through my hair with the same lack of control and gentleness as her lips. Our tongues battle as our grips become stronger. I don’t know if it’s lust or fury controlling me at this point as I devour her, taking and giving until I can’t remember if she’s the one who’s angry or I am.

  She pulls away, her fingers still locked in my hair as her chest rises and falls with heavy gasps against mine. Her cheeks are flushed, and her pupils dilated. Then, with one final sweep of her gaze, she turns and walks away.

  Rose

  With every step, my resolution weakens. There’s a warmth in my belly and desire between my legs that feels like a second pulse. I want to turn around and peel off Ian’s shirt and study every inch of his chest with my eyes, hands, and mouth. I want to feel his bare skin against mine. I want to hear his deep, perfect voice call out my name as he reaches his climax.

  The woods are mere feet away, and I don’t even care how difficult it would be to get far enough away from everyone else and find a spot where we can carry out this fantasy playing out in my thoughts. Hell, we could slip away to my car in a few minutes, or my apartment, which is just fifteen minutes away.

  I realize I’ve stopped walking as these thoughts manifest into plausible realities.

  If I turn around right now, what would happen?

  If I go back to where I left him standing, would I see something more than betrayal and anger shining in his blue eyes?

  “Hey, Rose.” My thoughts are interrupted by Luis as he comes toward me wearing the same red vest that Ian was carrying.

  He dropped it, I now realize, and the memory of his hands digging into my skin hits me with another blow of desire. I want to feel his hands on me again—everywhere.

  “Are you on trash pickup again, too?” he asks.

  I shake my head, struggling to find words or even thoughts that aren’t of Ian naked. I swallow thickly. “No, I just wanted to apologize to Ian,” I tell him honestly. That had been my intention. Initially, at least. I don’t fully understand what happened next. Did I kiss him because he was implying my feelings were fake or because I was afraid I might never get the chance since things between us continue to feel increasingly strained?

  God, why did I kiss him?

  Why did I just make things more awkward between us?

  Why am I risking hurting him?

  “You want my red vest?” Luis asks. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  I know what he’s offering me: the chance to turn around and go back to Ian. I shake my head. “I need to go check in and find Olivia.”

  A mocking smile rests on his wide lips. He knows I’m full of shit.

  “You act different,” Luis says as I start to move away.

  “I’m sorry?” I pause, my gaze daring to wander past Luis and over to where Ian is watching us.

  “When Ian’s around, you act differently.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  He’s wrong. I know he’s wrong because everyone’s been commenting on the fact that I’ve been acting differently for months now and I’ve barely been around Ian.

  “He likes you,” Luis tags on. “But you already know that, too.”

  I stare at him, hearing his words replay in my head, delivering a shocking amount of relief, fear, and doubt. It feels like another lie. Last year, I was confident of that fact, but this year, the adoration and kindness that softened Ian’s expression are gone.

  “You’re both so damn stubborn,” he says with a grin before he shakes his head and continues past me down to the water.

  My heart beats erratically as I make my way back to the remainder of the line to check-in.

  “Did you find him?” Olivia asks as she approaches me from the side, righting a red vest that she’s pulling on.

  I nod.

  “Good. Arlo said they knew you didn’t do it.”

  I smooth my hair. “I’m pretty sure he did, but…” I shake my head because I don’t know what more to say. I’m not sure that he was convinced I didn’t write the stupid article, and I’m not sure now if that kiss meant anything more than pent up sexual tension we’ve been holding onto for the past several months.

  “You look a little pale. Are you feeling okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m just tired,” I tell her.

  “You were out late last night,” she says.

  “I think I finally found a study group that I like.”

  Olivia chuckles. “Things are looking up for the year.”

  “Except I still need to hunt down Anthony,” I say as I approach the check-in table as the last one in line. I hand Penny my ID and turn my attention back to Olivia. “Maybe I just quit the paper.”

  “Are you sure you want to give Anthony the satisfaction?”

  “No. But I’m also not sure I want him to pull another bait and switch. And if I’m able to get the yoga studio opened, I won’t have time to be a part of the paper, anyway.”

  “Thank you, Rose. We have you on the trusses today,” Penny tells me as she hands me my driver’s license. “You’re going to need one of the blue vests and a pair of gloves, and you’ll meet down at the river.”

  I look at Olivia. “It’s like they’re working to keep us apart.”

  Her smile is instant and wide. “Never. Someone left coupons on my windshield today for cheesy garlic bread at the new pizza restaurant that opened a couple of blocks from us. We’ll load ourselves up with breadsticks and pizza and devise a diabolical plan to get back at Anthony.”

  “Arlo leaves again this weekend,” I remind her.

  “I know.”

  “I don’t want you to miss seeing him.”

  Her smile turns thoughtful. “Dating Arlo doesn’t change us.”

  It has, but mentioning this seems hurtful, especially when she’s trying to make a point to be there for me. “I’ll see you at five.”

  She blows me a kiss before turning toward the play structure.

  I’m trying to ignore the way each of my breaths feels more uneven than the last as I head back down toward the river when a familiar head of messy brown hair pops up beside me. “Hey. I didn’t know if you were coming today or not.”

  “Hey, yourself. We’re not done yet, so of course, I’m here.”

  A grin slowly spreads on her lips. “Good, I was worried you might not after last week?”

  “You mean because I was picking up old dirty diapers out of the mud?”

  She laughs. “That was pretty gross.”

  “Indeed. Well, future Madame President, you got stuck with me again, I see.” I point at her blue vest. “Blue’s your color.”

  She smiles shyly. “That’s what my dad says.”

  “Wise man with a sense of style. Sounds like a keeper.”

  Bree gives a tight-lipped smile but doesn’t say anything more as we slowly make our way back down to the stream. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I ask.

  “Two older sisters.”

  “Ouch,” I say. “I have one, and that’s rough.”

  This earns me a full-on belly laugh in reply. “Tell me about it. All my sisters care about are boys and clothes.”

  “Those aren’t horrible things to care about, are they?” I ask, realizing she’s Anna and I’m her sisters.

  “It is when that’s all they want to talk about.”

  I smile. “I’m sure it’s a phase.”

  “A never-ending phase,” she says with a scowl. Over her shoulder, Ian and Luis are carrying what appears to be an old washing machine that is rusted and dripping water up the embankment.

  Br
ee is silent, staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Do you like one of them?” It’s barely a question, more of an accusation.

  “We’re friends.”

  She quirks her eyebrows, delivering a look so cool and bold that I nearly high five her. “You aren’t interested in any boys? Or girls?” I tag on.

  “I like boys. I just don’t live for boys.”

  “That’s fair.”

  She goes quiet again, but her gaze keeps creeping back to me like she wants to say something more. If this were a year ago, I’d likely continue and pretend I don’t notice. “Are you okay?”

  “Are you close with your mom?”

  Her question catches me off guard. Two mentions of my mom in a mere hour makes my chest ache. “I was,” I tell her. “But, she passed away.”

  Bree stops. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, realizing she’s apologizing for the question more than my loss.

  “My mom’s gone, too,” she tells me, her eyes on the uneven path that leads down to the stream that is mostly mud rather than grass. “She left with her new boyfriend four years ago and never came back.”

  Statistics start to bubble in my thoughts as memories of my limited days in therapy remind me of terms like abandonment and trust issues. I wonder if Bree has ever heard of the potential impacts or if she exhibits them? If so, does she fight against them as I did?

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, sincerely, though my thoughts are still jumbled, trying to make sense of her situation and compare it to mine. We’ve both lost our mothers, and I would bet my life savings that she thinks about her mom as much as I do mine, possibly even more since she’s still a kid, and her list of what ifs is likely endless, whereas mine often gets tangled around the same pattern.

  “He smoked,” she says, her voice soft.

  The random fact seems incredibly displaced, making me believe I was in my thoughts and missed something she said, but then the sight of our trash bags has me recalling our first week and her comments about cigarettes.

  We stop at the bank, and Bree uncomfortably shifts her brown gaze to meet mine. I’m pretty sure this is where I’m supposed to say something prolific—something comforting and kind, hopeful and meaningful. I think of all the books and stories I’ve read and the words that have given me that glimmer of optimism and courage, and yet, as quickly as they form, they’re replaced with memories of me drinking beer for breakfast with Chantay and skipping classes throughout high school, and kissing boys because it was fun and simple and easy. “I suck at this,” I admit, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.”