Fletcher( Boys of HGU #1)

by Victoria McFarlane

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

  “You slept with him!”

  “Demi!”

  “Was it good? Everything you ever imagined?”

  I sigh, “It is incredible.”

  “Is and not was? You’re still sleeping together?”

  I shrug. I can trust Demi with this information, she won’t tell anyone.

  “We’re,” I purse my lips, twisting them side to side, “I guess, seeing each other?”

  She gasps, “How did your families take it?”

  “They don’t know,” I admit, “Fletcher wants to keep it a secret for now.”

  “A secret, why?”

  I shake my head in response, “It’s a long story. I’m going to keep it quiet for the time being.”

  Demi doesn’t look convinced, her brows furrow in concern but she keeps her opinion to herself.

  “Well, I’ll get to suss your boy out,” she says after a lengthy silence.

  “Huh?”

  Her lips curve into a mischievous smile, “Well the school paper have tasked me a new assignment.”

  My confusion must be evident on my face because she just cackles and turns her laptop to face me.

  There in big bold letters.

  Hillgrove Titans, the boys behind the team.

  “I’m writing individual articles on each and everyone of the guys. With them being in senior year and well on their way to enter the draft, the paper wants personal pieces written for each senior. Yours truly has been given the task.”

  “But you’re not a sport reporter,” I say.

  “No, but apparently my people skills has earned me this.”

  “How did Hailey take that?” My face screws up. Hailey is a Junior like us and for some reason Demi is her competition, even though they write for different columns.

  “Like I care,” Demi shrugs, “the bitch can suck it.”

  I laugh, “Well I’m sure the guys ain’t gonna make it easy for you.”

  She cocks her head, full reporter mode kicking in, “How so?”

  “Oh no,” I wag my finger, “You’re not getting any dirt from me.”

  I wonder idly how Decker is going to react to the news. He didn’t talk about his past, not with anyone other than us so Demi digging into his life won’t be taken lightly.

  If anyone can do it and do it in a way that’ll be sensitive and caring, it’s definitely her but I’m not sure how I feel about someone dragging it all into the open.

  I doubt he’ll offer any information up willingly.

  Not when I know his past still causes him pain.

  She doesn’t appear deterred though, if anything, Demi looks about ready to drag that beast into the open, kicking and screaming if need be.

  Thirty-three

  I’ve just finished unpacking when a loud pound on my bedroom door has my brow pulling down and my body twisting to look at the door. “Come in!”

  Decker slams his way into the room, “You about done?”

  He looks pissed.

  More than pissed, he looks furious.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I swallow, sure he knows what’s been going on between Peyton and me. I brace myself for the onslaught I’m sure is to come but when nothing happens I look to where Decker has collapsed onto my bed, his arms spread. “What’s going on?”

  “You haven’t checked your mail?”

  I glance at my phone, seeing the little notification light flashes green showing me there is a new email there. “Nah, man, I haven’t looked.”

  I’ve been too preoccupied trying to get my shit organized whilst thinking about seeing Peyton later.

  “We’re the new subjects of the Hillgrove Reporter,” he sneers, “Our lives are about to be put on display.”

  With a frown I cross the room and snatch up my phone. There’s a new email from coach.

  Boys,

  Coach here…

  I laugh, as if we don’t already know who the mail is from.

  The university paper reached out during the winter break and with a lot of you in your final year and some of you heading off to the draft, they want to dedicate the next few months to us. Each one of you will be spending time with the Hillgrove Reporter journalist in two week segments so they can write up an article about our team and the players.

  This isn’t optional.

  Schedule below, anyone who has a problem with this, well, tough.

  Fletcher Dallas

  Vincent Decker

  Ash Parker

  Colt Shaw

  I stop reading at that point.

  “This is no different to the journalists after our games,” I shrug.

  Decker scoffs, “They’re going to dig up everything from my past!” He hisses, “Everything, Fletch and it’s going to affect my chances. Who’s going to want a player with such a dodgy history?”

  I sigh, looking down at my childhood friend, “Anyone who judges your past will answer to me.”

  He laughs without humour, “As if it’s that easy.”

  Colt comes to the doorway, leaning casually on the frame, “So you’ve seen it.”

  Decker grunts.

  “It’ll be fine, if you don’t want to talk about it, don’t. They can’t report on shit they don’t know.”

  Decker doesn’t look convinced, a wall slowly being constructed. He’ll shut everyone out if it means protecting himself. I can’t say I blamed him, the pain he’s seen, well it has nothing on what I’ve experienced. I pat his shoulder, “It’ll be fine, bro, we got your back.”

  Colt seconds my words but if it helps his worry, he doesn’t show it.

  _

  I keep it casual tonight, dressing in my dark jeans, boots and leather jacket and I let Colt drive for once. Chucks is busy tonight with everyone now being back from break and making the most of their last night before classes start again tomorrow.

  I spot Peyton the moment I step into the bar, like a beacon I’m drawn to her. She’s leaning over the pool table, her legs clad in tight, form fitting denim and an AC/DC shirt that’s been knotted at the front to show off a slither of skin at her abdomen. Her feet are in a pair of chunky biker boots and her long hair falls around her face like a luxurious curtain, glossy and shiny in the lights overhead.

  She’s a damn sight to behold.

  Decker wolf whistles, making her head turn to us. Her eyes clash with mine and a secretive smile tugs at her mouth.

  “Hey babe!” Decker says, grabbing her and pulling her into him for a bear hug that makes her wheeze out a breath.

  She swats his shoulder, giggling and then he drops her, passing her off to Colt who does something very similar without the squeezing. She looks to me, waiting to see if I’ll bring her in for a hug and whilst I know it’s a bad idea, a very bad idea, I grip her shoulders and drag her to me, crushing her to my chest. I subtly press my face into her hair, inhaling her scent and pressing my lips in and then I let her go, keeping it chaste and friendly as much as I’d like to kiss her in front of everyone right now.

  Ash is waiting on the other side of the table, leaning on the pool cue.

  “Ash,” I nod.

  “Fletcher.”

  We haven’t spoke other than a quick conversation before the games we’ve played since that morning in the gym.

  “We’re just having a quick game,” Peyton says, nodding towards the table they’ve occupied at the edge of the room. Demi is there, staring at her laptop, something I’ve noticed she does a lot.

  “I’ll play the winner,” I tell them and head to the table, ordering a round of fresh beers for the table before sliding into the booth opposite Demi.

  “Mr Dallas,” Demi greets me, her eyes meeting mine above the lid of her laptop.

  “Miss Atwood,” I greet in a similar fashion.

  Her eyes twinkle and she gives me her full attention, cocking her head to the side, “Tell me,” she starts, “What is it that everyone sees in you?”

  I’m taken aback by the question, �
��I’m sorry?”

  “Well,” fingers poised over her keyboard, “all the reports say you’re in the top five for draft picks but you declined entering the draft early last year. Your game is strong, scouts and sponsors seem to be going nuts for you but I don’t think it’s just the game. No, there’s something else, tell me, what is it?”

  It clicks and I lean back in my seat, spreading one arm out to rest against the back of the booth, “You’re the reporter.”

  She grins, “I am.”

  “I’ve never seen your name at the bottom of a sports article, I thought Hailey was the sports reporter for the Hillgrove Reporter.”

  “She is, but you see, I have a way with people that means I’m the perfect candidate for this particular job.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite,” I lean forward, “but first, tell me, do you know anything about the game?”

  “Not a single thing,” she grins, “Now there’s my truth, you tell me yours.”

  “And what truth would that be?”

  Her eyes flick to Peyton and I follow her gaze, my eyes snagging on the way she bends over the table, lining up her cue to shoot. She takes the shot and the ball bounces around the table before sinking into the hole in the top right corner. A cheer, a high five and then she looks over to me, her smile falling, her eyes darkening.

  “You know,” I say without looking back to Demi.

  “I do.”

  “I trust you won’t tell,” I say, finally breaking away from Peyton.

  “It’s not my place to,” she closes her laptop, “Our interview isn’t scheduled until tomorrow afternoon so I’m going off the record now. I won’t write this in your article.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she says in a low voice, curling her hands around her beer, “That girl over there, she deserves all the happiness this world has to offer. For whatever reason, you seem to be it for her. I know enough about your past to understand how much you mean to each other.”

  I stiffen with each second that passes, with each word that crosses her lips.

  “If you hurt her, in any way,” Demi leans forward, “I will come after you.”

  “I don’t take threats lightly,” I growl.

  She simply chuckles, “It isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.”

  I have to hand it to her, she has balls.

  “And I’m going to give you a word of advice,” I tell her, “When it comes to Decker, do not press him, do not dig into something he isn’t willing to give.”

  Her eyes light up, “You’re just making me want to do it.”

  “Then you’ll make an enemy.”

  “I’m not in this business to make friends.”

  Peyton decides at that moment to saunter towards us, her hips swaying in those tight pants. I want to grab them, haul her into me, perch her in my lap where she’ll stay for the rest of the night but I can’t do that.

  Guilt over wanting to keep this a secret sits heavy on my shoulders. She deserves a guy to show her off, a guy who’ll kiss her in front of everyone, show everyone just how much she means and at the moment, I can’t be that guy. Who knows when I’ll be able to.

  She slides into the booth next to me and plucks up her own beer, taking a few healthy sips before she meets my eyes and grins.

  “Looks like you’re playing Ash.”

  “You lost?”

  “Apparently so,” she shrugs.

  Subtly, I reach beneath the table and grip her knee, squeezing. Her breath hitches and she almost drops the beer in her hand.

  “Let me show them who’s boss,” I tap the table, “Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck,” both the girls say at the same time as I head off to play against Ash.

  He watches me approach, leaning in that same way he was when we first got here.

  “Ready to get your ass beat?” I taunt.

  “Ha,” he scoffs, “You’re dreaming, Dallas.”

  Thirty-four

  After class on Monday I head to the library, not for any other reason than the solace it provides. I pull out my sketchbook, my pencils and headphones and settle in at a table close to the fiction section of the library. The quietness of the space settles around me and I sigh, feeling the stress of the first day back at classes ease away.

  With my headphones plugged in and my pencil to paper, I release the remainder of tension by sketching. I’m not even entirely sure what I’m drawing until the lines start to take shape, arms, legs, torsos, entwined like ivy wrapped around a beam, the two people on the paper come alive, writhing in sheets of lead and shadow.

  “What’cha drawing?” Decker’s voice startles me, causing me to swipe a long deep groove straight across the paper, the line fracturing the lovers straight down the middle.

  A warning perhaps.

  Ignoring the bells ringing in my head I close my book and turn my attention to my friend.

  “Sorry,” he winces, “Was that a project?”

  “No,” I sigh.

  “What’s up babe?” He frowns, taking the chair closest to me.

  I shake my head and look over his shoulder, spotting the other two making their way over to us. Fletcher looks as handsome as ever, sporting a jersey and a pair of light denim jeans, his hair falling messily over his brow.

  His eyes brighten when they meet mine and I can’t stop the way my heart begins to pound in my chest, the way my blood roars in anticipation or my core tightens with every step he draws closer.

  Colt sits across the table, along with Fletcher and like clockwork, his leg reaches out beneath the table, his foot bumping with mine. A grin tugs at my mouth and I tap his foot back in acknowledgement.

  “None of you got classes?” I say, folding my arms over my sketchbook.

  “Not this afternoon, why? You wanna get rid of us?” Colt jokes.

  “As if,” I scoff.

  The guys fall into their usual banter and I relax, nostalgia working its way through me. This was what it was always like between us. The ripping into each other, the easy laughs and familiar smiles. I wanted this back. I wanted it all back.

  “Do you know who the reporter will be?” Colt asks.

  I perk up at the topic but it isn’t me who answers, it’s Decker. He flicks his gaze my way and then back to Colt, “Demi Atwood.”

  “Your roommate?” Colt asks me.

  “That’s the one.”

  The guys begin to talk about what this means, having their lives dissected by Demi when a shrill voice cuts right through me, turning my blood to ice.

  “Fletcher!” Nina’s all smiles as she sashays her way to our table, sparing me a second glance, her perfectly groomed brows puckering. She’s in a tight pair of yoga pants and a cropped tee, her blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail.

  I had absolutely nothing against her. The times I had spoken to her through my years at college were fine, she was nice but she was pressing in on something that didn’t belong to her. She slides herself into the chair next to Fletcher. My hands curl into fists on top of my sketchbook, watching as she leans into him, wrapping her hands around his bicep.

  I try to cool myself by telling myself she doesn’t know. She can’t possibly understand but it does nothing to the anger swelling inside me.

  “How was your break?” She gushes, pressing even further into him. “You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

  I take great pleasure watching as he takes her hand and uncurls her fingers from his arm, staring at her dead on.

  “That kiss,” she swoons, actually swoons.

  “I have a girlfriend.”

  He says it so quietly I almost miss it but when the words register I suck in a deep breath, eyes widening.

  “Huh?”

  “Nina, I have a girlfriend.”

  “What!?”

  “I am in a relationship, you can’t keep doing this.”

  “Since when?” She screeches.

  “For a long time,” he meets my eyes across the table,
“most of my life actually.”

  “Who is she?” Nina snaps.

  The table has gone quiet, shocked at Fletcher’s words.

  “That’s none of your concern,” he growls.

  Nina frowns, looking to each of us on the table and then climbs to her feet, seemingly confused by the direction that went for her but I don’t pay her too much attention, instead I turn back to Fletch, swallowing.

  Is this it?

  Is he going to tell the guys?

  “What the fuck, dude!?” Decker hits him in the shoulder. “you got a girlfriend and you didn’t tell us!?”

  “It’s none of your business,” Fletcher snaps.

  Decker looks shocked and I realize he’s not about to tell them about us.

  “Who is she?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he growls.

  Colt isn’t watching them though, he’s watching me, his brows puckering, a realization dawning on his face. His eyes flick between the two of us but before he can say a word Fletcher slams his chair back, grabs his things and storms from the library.

  He isn’t ready to share what we have, I got it but it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

  I keep telling myself it isn’t a reflection of his feelings for me, that despite it, he loves me, me, the same way I’ve always loved him.

  We can make it through this and when the time is right we can tell our friends, our family together.

  With a sigh I gather my things, stuffing them into my bag.

  “I’ll catch you guys later,” I tell them, kissing them both on the cheeks before I follow the path Fletcher just left down. Instead of heading back to my dorm though, I trek my way across campus, walking the way to Fletcher’s house set just outside of the main area.

  His truck is in the driveway and I knock, waiting for him to answer.

  For a minute I think he’s going to ignore it but then the door opens and he comes into view, his bottom half dressed in a pair of grey sweats with HGU down the left leg and his top half is gloriously bare. I follow the lines and dips of his abdomen, mouth watering at the delicious V that carves a path that disappears beneath the band of his sweats. A dusting of hair travels from his navel, all the way down, until that too, disappears.

  Without truly thinking, I reach forward, a single finger following that line and revel in the way his whole body bunches, the muscles in his torso jumping.