Players Game 01 - Fraternize

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Chapter Fifteen EMERSON I’d said yes. But it was only out of desperation, and when Sanchez said he had a spare car, the way some people talk about having spare toothbrushes or toilet paper, I’d caved. Maybe it was because I hadn’t slept all night, between my dad having nightmares and roaming around the house asking for my mom, to the fact that when I logged in to my bank account I nearly burst into tears, who knew? I finally had my dream, but now that it was in my hands, I could see it so easily slipping away. Everything I promised my dad, everything I’d worked for, and for what? So I could put on a uniform and yell? I felt so selfish. And on top of that, I was playing with fire, the very fire that would burn me from the inside out if I even thought about stepping outside the lines. Sanchez made it clear he only wanted sex, and Miller wanted nothing to do with me. But the fact was I wanted both of them, and all it would take was a misstep on my part—or Sanchez finally getting what he w

  Chapter Sixteen MILLER Friends stared at each other’s asses all the time. That’s at least what I told myself when I watched her hips sway back and forth, her heart-shaped ass making my mouth water, and, since nobody was looking at me . . . No harm, right? Until she turned and locked eyes with me. Because it was Em we were talking about. She knew. She could feel my stare. And maybe a part of me wanted her to turn around, wanted her to see the look on my face, the hunger I still had despite my anger toward her. “Yo.” Sanchez slapped me on the back. “You in?” “In,” I repeated, wracking my brain for what they could possibly be talking about. “Rookie dinner.” Jax grabbed his helmet. “We’re not as bad as some teams. It’s not like we always leave the bill for them to take care of, sometimes we help them out.” Sanchez and Thomas high fived, and then Thomas snickered. “Last year it was over seven grand.” “How do you spend that much on dinner?” I wondered out loud. “Dude, I heard New England lef

  Chapter Seventeen MILLER The team dinner went about as good as any team dinner could go. We ordered an insane amount of alcohol—and didn’t even drink most of it since we had a grueling practice the next day, and the same went for food. All in all, the final bill was around eight grand, small by most standards for the rookie meal. Justin Ranz, our newest rookie, offensive line, took one look at it and paled. “Chill, man.” Sanchez hit him in the back. “You get your bonus in, what, a few days?” “A week.” His voice was disgusted. “Right.” Sanchez nodded. “And you got a three-million signing bonus. This is chump change.” He frowned. “Well, I mean technically, after taxes you only get, what, that would be around half, considering you’re in a whole new bracket, and then you’re going to want to buy a car, because who doesn’t need a nice vehicle to transport them in?” “Don’t forget a house,” I piped up, knowing exactly what he was doing. I’d heard of it before, the mentors making sure the rooki

  Chapter Eighteen EMERSON Sanchez: Quick, take a picture of your panty drawer. I want to win a bet. I rolled my eyes and yawned as I swiped away from the book I was reading and started typing in messages. Me: Don’t have one. Sanchez: “Dead” Where the hell is that emoji? I couldn’t suppress my laugh. Me: How much have you had to drink? Sanchez: Clearly not enough if the thought of you not wearing panties is giving me a boner the size of Texas. I would send a picture, but I’m afraid it won’t fully fit in the screen, and that wouldn’t be fair to you. The guy was insane! Like a psychotic, wiggly hot worm that worked its way into your life and refused to let go. I relived his stupid kiss about as many times as I relived Miller’s heated look. I was in deep. And the worst part was that I didn’t remember how I ever got there. What had I done to gain Sanchez’s unwanted attention? And why was Miller so pissed at me? Especially when he seemed to think I was the one who put him on a friendship time

  Chapter Nineteen MILLER I felt guilty. I’d slept like shit, and it showed during practice. I was caught unaware by both Xander and Elliot, two rookie defensive ends, and it was more than embarrassing when Xander took my helmet off. “Miller!” Sanchez yelled. “What gives?” I shook my head. “Nothing. Tired. No excuses.” I eyed Jax. “Can we go again?” He nodded, and I ran my route, this time blocking and turning for a catch. I was the last option—a good one—but typically my job was to make sure that Jax had enough time to get shit done. I caught it. Our offensive coach, Merill, motioned me forward. Great. I wasn’t ready to get my ass chewed out because I’d been texting Emerson for ten minutes, only to stare at my own ceiling for three hours unable to sleep because I kept imagining Sanchez kissing her. Not that he’d know that. I only had myself to blame, right? I was flirting with danger. And I couldn’t stop. I’d texted her a few more times this morning, asking her about practice and her da

  Chapter Twenty EMERSON I had no right to be jealous. But I was. So jealous I was ready to lose my mind. I’d had too much to drink, that much I knew. Typically, I only allowed myself a maximum of two, but I’d had a third after Sanchez kept beating me at stupid Indian poker. Kinsey and Miller were talking in the corner again, and it took everything in me not to eavesdrop. He wasn’t mine. I had no claim on him. And it wasn’t fair that I wanted both him and Sanchez. What type of person did that make me anyway? Disgusted with myself, I quickly started tossing red plastic cups in the trash and cleaning up the best I could. My hands were shaking by the time I got close enough to hear them exchange phone numbers. When I looked up, they were saying good-bye to the rest of us. Were they leaving together? Was it my business? A few of Sanchez’s teammates followed them into the hall, talking loud enough to make my ears ring. Leaving just Sanchez and me. “You’re staying, right?” He came up behind me

  Chapter Twenty-One MILLER I gripped the necklace in my fist and walked toward the locker rooms. I knew Sanchez was already there. His car was in the parking lot right along with Em’s. After last night, I didn’t know what to think. But I did know that I couldn’t go on like this, constantly lusting after her, breaking rules of friendship and every other guy code out there just because I was still in love with her. And that was the part that killed me. It twisted inside my chest until I wanted to scream. She never left me. I believed her. Which meant, had I just tried harder, had I not let my grief and anger overtake common sense, we would have been more than friends. More than these strangers who used to hang out on the weekends and binge watch movies until four a.m. We used to fall asleep under the stars; she’d shiver in my arms and promise me we’d be friends forever. It was where our friendship necklaces came in. I’d bought them as a joke. But the minute I clasped the chain around her

  Chapter Twenty-Two EMERSON I was a nervous wreck. On top of feeling guilty about texting Miller yesterday and my heart warring with my mind over the fact that I was kissing Sanchez, we had a weigh-in. The manual said that every weigh-in would be a surprise. Thank goodness last night I hadn’t eaten anything; that was part of the eating plan for the Bucks Girls. “You’re making me nervous. Stop twitching,” Kinsey said behind me. “It’s going to be fine. The worst that can happen is you gain a few pounds, you get a warning, and they make you lose it before the next game, which just means a lot of protein shakes and dehydration. You aren’t going to get kicked off.” “Wow, only? That sounds awesome!” I said with fake enthusiasm. I knew the drill. And dehydration was basically the only way for a woman to lose weight that fast without starving herself. It would be a week and a half of broccoli and chicken with no salt, and small amounts of water. After the last failed tryout, I swore to myself I

  Chapter Twenty-Three MILLER My fingers buzzed with a prickling sensation the rest of the day—from a damn towel. I tried to rein it in, only to lose it all over again when I went over to Sanchez’s apartment, let myself in, and saw the most gorgeous ass in the air, directly in front of the oven. It swayed back and forth as music pumped through the sound system, and the scent of cookies filled the air. I almost had a heart attack when Emerson stood, oven mitts and all, and did another little shimmy before sliding the cookie tray onto the granite countertop. “Enjoying the show?” she called over her shoulder. I froze, pi
ssed that I felt my cheeks heating. “You knew I was watching?” “You walk loud.” “Bullshit. I’m a panther!” “Sure.” She still wasn’t looking at me. “A two-hundred-and-fifty-pound panther with size fourteen shoes. It’s amazing how you glide into the room.” With a laugh, she started fanning the cookies with her hands. “You think you float into rooms. You stomp. Trust me. I coul

  Chapter Twenty-Four EMERSON My chest hurt. I’d been able to down a half of a cookie with a gulp of milk, and that was it. We watched Jason Bourne. I sat between two of the hottest guys on the planet while they argued over cyber terrorism and threw cookies at the TV. It was perfect. And it was hell. How was it possible to feel such conflicting emotions? Sanchez had put his arm around me and held me close, but a part of my thigh still touched Miller’s, and I knew he knew it, because every once in a while he’d shift, and the torture would start all over again. Whether it was feeling his muscled thigh through his jeans . . . Or the graze of his fingers as he handed me the blanket . . . But he stayed true to his word to be my friend; if anything, I was the one having a nervous breakdown, while he was having completely casual conversations with us while Sanchez held my hand and played with my hair. And I’d be lying if I said having Sanchez’s attention didn’t feel good. It did. He wasn’t what

  Chapter Twenty-Five MILLER Game 1 Pilots vs. Bucks Home Turf Favored Team: Bellevue Bucks “You got us?” Jax yelled in the middle of the circle. He was talking to me. I knew it. The team knew it. The Pilots were the very first team that drafted me, but nothing could have prepared me for the brotherhood I felt with the Bucks. It was home. And I’d battle until the death. Incredible what good coaching and a hardworking team got you. I was excited to play my old team only because I knew that I was on the better team, not just because they had the money to buy good players, but because the players worked their asses off to stay the best, and didn’t quit. “You know I got you!” I yelled back. “Bucks, Bucks, Bucks, Bucks!” We chanted as Sanchez stood in the middle of the huddle, tossing his helmet in the air one last time before we ended with a cry of “Buck you!” Adrenaline pumped so hard through my system I was nearly dizzy with it as I followed my teammates onto the field. The stadium was pac

  Chapter Twenty-Six EMERSON I’d wanted to tell Sanchez no. I was exhausted, and I knew he had to be exhausted too, and yet, he wouldn’t stop texting me about all the partying we were going to do. And with those texts, pictures of movies and food . . . The guy had enough energy and adrenaline for an entire football team, maybe that was why he was one of the captains. Watching him on the field was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I remembered all of the cheers and felt like my performance had been good, but honestly, my focus hadn’t been on the cheers or crowd pleasing. It had been on him. Sanchez. The way he commanded the field. The way he and Miller seemed to read each other’s mind. I’d always watched Miller play, even when I hated him, I’d watched. He was cold, calculating. And Sanchez . . . He was like a football professor out there—light on his feet, cracking jokes. When they’d been near our side of the field, the big screen had caught him grinning at the guy trying to block him

  Chapter Twenty-Seven MILLER It was the postgame party—which meant I basically had to go even though I wasn’t one to party. Sanchez and Em still weren’t at the bar and I didn’t want to leave without at least saying good-bye. Right. I was that big of a loser that I was waiting to say good-bye to two people who probably couldn’t care less about the fact that I even waited in the first place. “You gonna drink that or just stare longingly into it like you want to make it your bitch, but the nice kind?” Kinsey’s voice sounded from behind me, and then her hand patted my shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, all love sucks.” “Wow, thanks,” I said with fake enthusiasm. “I really needed that pep talk after scoring my first touchdown.” She plopped down in the seat next to me and grinned. “You’re welcome.” Jax glared at me over her head. “Ah, your brother’s giving me the warning stare.” “Just stay the agreed upon five feet away from me at all times, and he won’t rip your face off.” “I can’t imag

  Chapter Twenty-Eight EMERSON We were in bed. It wasn’t weird. It should have been weird. But ever since confessing to him about finding out I was pregnant in high school two months after Miller left, I felt—free. I’d confessed to the wrong guy—and felt better, exhausted but better. “You know . . .” Sanchez was flipping through channels on the TV, shirtless, wearing a pair of low-slung black sweats that hugged him in all the places I really shouldn’t be looking if I was going to keep my promise not to sleep with him. “What?” I yawned behind my hand and fluffed my pillow about ten times before he finally sighed and jerked it away from me, then pounded it with his giant fist, only to chuck it off the bed and pat his chest instead. I gulped. He repeated the motion. And because I was exhausted, I gave in. His body was warm against my cheek, and then I found my hand drawing circles down the rivets of his perfect abs. And somehow my legs inched themselves closer to his until I was both tangle

  Chapter Twenty-Nine MILLER I lay in bed and imagined them watching movies like we used to. I let the memories of me and Em wash over me until I was sick with them. Because no matter how damn bad I wanted to be the guy sharing her present, I’d lost that opportunity the minute I walked away in her past. Part of me wondered if I had given up too easily because I’d been hurt. Because, deep down inside, I didn’t expect a girl that incredible to want to stay with me, and when I’d driven away from her, I’d had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t end well. Not because I didn’t love her. But because I wasn’t sure how to love her so far away, not with our relationship being so new. Not with my dad breathing down my neck about football and college scholarships. It was as if the further away I drove from her the more issues popped up, making it impossible to even see her waving figure anymore. I turned over on my back and stared up at the ceiling. Football. Winning games. Focusing on the positive. I nee

  Chapter Thirty EMERSON My body was still buzzing from last night. I felt good, so good, until I locked eyes with Miller, and the guilt was back. Normally, other feelings accompanied it, feelings that made me feel guilty about everything going on with Sanchez, feelings that told my body that maybe I wasn’t over Miller, but the butterflies weren’t back full force and I wasn’t looking at him with longing anymore. Instead, I was feeling guilty more than anything. “Hey.” Sanchez grabbed me from behind, then twirled me in his arms and kissed the side of my neck. “Did you drink all your mimosa like a good girl?” “Every last drop.” I grinned like a lunatic. “Thanks.” He pressed another kiss to my neck and tugged me against his body. I loved the way he felt. The world faded away. All of it. It was like the more time I spent with him, the more my past disconnected, leaving me no choice but to cling to my future—to cling to him. So while the past strings were cut . . . The future strings were att

  Chapter Thirty-One EMERSON “I’m really looking forward to you in an apron and nothing else.” Sanchez gripped me by the hips and held me close to his body as we both walked toward the locker room. “In fact, I think you should let me help you shower—just in case you have grass and dirt in places that need inspection.” “Very funny.” I shoved him away and ran. I was pissed. I liked winning. “Aw, baby.” He chased after me and then tackled me to the ground right before I ran off the field. He held his weight above me by bracing his arms on either side of my body. “I like you.” “Is that your way of apologizing for winning?” “You shouldn’t have blitzed again.” He grinned. “I read it.” “Bullshit!” I shoved his rock-hard, totally sexy chest. “I wasn’t even looking at you!” “Yeah, but I felt you.” He licked his lips. “And I know how competitive you are. You were thinking about stopping me—stopping the play—not about the actual play headed in your direction or the fact that I’d do a quarterback fa

  Chapter Thirty-Two MILLER What a day from hell. And we still had practice that next day, which meant that we were all supposed to get along as if nothing had happened with Thomas. I got there ear
ly, hoping to talk to Sanchez, since, when he got home the night before, he’d said he just wanted to crash. But he was already suited up and on the practice field. His back was to me as I approached him. He was watching the cheerleaders practice. I didn’t blame him. “Remember that time you said that you would have never walked away? And that’s what made us different?” I stood a foot away from him, not taking my eyes off the field as I clutched my helmet in my right hand. “Yeah.” He sighed. “You’re doing it by not going after her now, by not explaining yourself.” “It’s called self-destructive behavior.” Sanchez turned to me. “Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I just don’t know how to make her listen, make her understand. And the sick part is that I know I don’t really deserve her.” He paused. “Ne

  Chapter Thirty-Three EMERSON I felt his stare all through practice. I needed to talk to him and stop being that girl who just ran off without letting the guy explain. Because everything Miller said was true, and I refused to let history replay itself. I wouldn’t just ignore what my heart was saying in order to protect it from getting hurt again. So after our night practice—where I made leaps and bounds with a few of the girls on the squad by offering to help with the new routine, I drove over to Sanchez’s place. And, like a total coward, I sat in the car for a good ten minutes before I finally walked to the elevator, pressed the penthouse button, and made my way to the top. Loud music sounded from his apartment. Yelling followed. I knocked then let myself in. Players were everywhere, none of them drinking, and a lot of the party girls I’d seen over the past few weekends were hanging on them, stars and dollar signs in their eyes. Jax was in the kitchen staring at everyone like he normal