The Rival: A Washington Rampage Sports Romance

by Megan Green

  The senior center was incredibly understanding when I asked to take an immediate leave of absence after the news about Miles became public knowledge. But I know that I’ve left them shorthanded. I can’t run and hide forever, and eventually, I’m going to have to go back and face the looks and rumors of the people I grew up with.

  But, for now, I want to see the Space Needle.

  I tell Carter this and watch as his face briefly falls. Carter, despite his profession, has always hated crowds. Going to one of the biggest tourist attractions in the state is surely not the way he planned to spend his day.

  But he recovers quickly, plastering back on a smile and nodding his approval. “Space Needle it is.”

  The fluttering feeling in my chest as I stand on the observation deck of the Needle and look out over the gorgeous city of Seattle is a little overwhelming. Part fear from being so high off the ground, part anticipation and exhilaration over seeing something I’ve always wanted to see, and part sheer amazement over the spectacular view in front of me.

  The feeling of standing here, so high above the rest of the city, is one of freedom. I’m above all the bullshit that Miles caused in my life. I’m higher than the hurt. I’m greater than the devastation he performed on my heart.

  And I’m free.

  Carter slides up next to me, nudging me with his shoulder. When I turn to him, surprise overtakes his face. And it’s only then I feel the tears in my eyes.

  “You okay, Avie?” he asks, putting his arm around my shoulders and gently rubbing it.

  I nod. “I am. For the first time in three days, I finally feel like I’m going to be okay.” My voice is thick with tears, but it’s the most hopeful I’ve felt since this whole ordeal began.

  Maybe even before.

  Carter squeezes me to him. “Hell yeah, you are. You’re Avery freaking Grant. Ain’t nothing keeping you down for long.”

  I giggle, wiping at the tears on my face. “Thanks for bringing me here, Car. I think it’s just what I needed.”

  “No problem. Anything for my bestie.”

  I smile and lean my head against his shoulder, relishing in the moment of bliss and the comfort of my best friend.

  Until a tiny voice interrupts us.

  “Excuse me,” the little voice says, causing Carter to drop his arm from me and turn around.

  I follow suit, and the two of us come face-to-face with a small boy. He can’t be more than seven, his two front teeth missing when he smiles up at us, his dark hair mussed from the wind.

  “Are you Carter Hughes?” he asks, his eyes wide as he stares up at Carter in wonder. The missing teeth cause a slight whistling sound at the end of Carter’s last name, and my heart melts at how adorable he is.

  Carter crouches down, putting himself at eye-level with the boy. “I am. And who might you be?”

  The boy smiles shyly. “My name is Carter, too.”

  Carter’s face splits into a wide grin. “Is that right? Well, that’s a good name. Are you a baseball fan, Carter?”

  This seems to break the little boy out of his starstruck trance, his face brightening as he starts to enthusiastically nod his head. “Oh, yes. I love the Rampage. I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

  I place my hand over my heart, feeling it swell as I watch this sweet kid and his complete adoration for my friend. I mean, I’ve always known that Carter is some sort of hotshot baseball player. I’ve seen him play. And I’ve watched him on TV. But knowing something and witnessing it firsthand, watching how something as simple as meeting him has completely made this little boy’s entire day, are two completely different things. For the first time since he was drafted, it finally hits me.

  Carter Hughes is a big freaking deal.

  A fact that’s only driven home when I hear the shocked gasp of a woman from somewhere to my left.

  “Oh my God! Jen! It’s Carter Hughes!”

  The girl’s shrill voice rings through the entire place, causing every eye in the vicinity to swing toward Carter. In the span of only a few seconds, the observation deck goes from the hushed voices of families remarking on the view to a swarm of avid baseball fans, each of them clambering over the other in order to get closer to Carter. A flurry of papers and pens—and various body parts—are thrust into his face, everyone desperate for a signature from the all-star rookie.

  I don’t even try to fight the crowd, feeling myself getting pushed further and further away from Carter with every passing second. When I’m finally over by the entrance, I stand up on my tiptoes, catching a glimpse of Carter in the middle of the throng of people.

  A bright smile is plastered on his face, his demeanor completely at ease as he takes dozens of photos and signs autograph after autograph. Never once does he act annoyed. Never once does he seem put out that his quiet morning at the Space Needle has just turned into a circus.

  Carter Hughes is completely in his element. And I love watching the happiness dance across his features.

  He’s worked so hard for this. Every single moment spent on that field, all the times he missed hanging out with our friends because baseball came first…it all led to this.

  I lean back against the wall next to the door, crossing my arms over my chest, completely content to just stand and watch until Carter can manage to break free. I’m smiling as he gets down on his knees in order to take a photo with a boy in a wheelchair when two women come strolling by.

  I recognize one as the girl who first identified Carter and alerted everyone else to his presence. The other woman—Jen, I’m assuming—talks animatedly as they walk, her hands a flurry of movement as she regales her friend.

  “Did you see the way he smiled when he looked at me? Gah! It’s seriously not fair for one person to be that hot. Surely, he’s breaking some sort of law.”

  Her friend beams back at her, her voice breathy and a little uneven as she speaks, “I know, right? The man is seriously sexy. And did you know he’s single? Like, where do I sign up? A guy who looks like that and has money? Honey, where is the courthouse when you need it?”

  Jen playfully shoves her friend. “Whatever, whore. I saw him first. If anybody is going to be Mrs. Carter Hughes, it’s going to be me.”

  The two women walk through the exit, still bickering over which one of them is going to be the lucky one to lock Carter down.

  It’s not until I turn back to the crowd before me that I realize my face has fallen. Gone is the smile I was sporting only moments before, and in its place is a concerned frown.

  I look back at Carter, finding him in exactly the same state as before—smiley and like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  So, why the sudden shift in my own mood?

  When a teenage girl leaves Carter, stumbling back toward her family with stars in her eyes, it hits me.

  Am I…

  Jealous?

  I immediately rebuke the idea, laughing it off as some sort of ridiculous notion.

  But is it?

  Why does it bother me so much to see all these women lusting after my best friend?

  I wonder how many of them he’s slept with.

  And there it is.

  It’s not the fact that women find Carter attractive. I mean, I have eyes.

  It’s the thought of Carter potentially returning those feelings.

  If Carter falls in love, what does that mean for me?

  A shiver runs down my spine at the nasty thought.

  How selfish can you possibly be, Avery Grant? You’re worried about how Carter’s happiness might affect your life instead of just being happy for your friend.

  I know I’m being a self-centered bitch. But it’s always just been me and Carter. Practically as far back as I can remember, it has been the two of us against the world.

  At least until Miles entered the picture.

  And what did Carter do then? He took a step back and let you be happy even though he absolutely hated Miles. Yet here you are, acting like a spoiled brat because a few gi
rls happened to smile at him.

  Carter catches my eye at that moment, the happiness on his face slipping briefly as he takes in whatever look he sees on mine.

  I plaster back on a smile, giving him a thumbs-up and then an okay sign to let him know I’m fine with waiting a little longer. He shoots me a questioning look but seems satisfied with what he sees reflected back at him, turning his attention back to the fans surrounding him.

  I don’t know what the fuck that was all about, but I’m going to chalk it up to my confused, hormonal state.

  Miles betrayed my trust, and Carter is the only other man I’ve ever been close to. Other than family.

  I guess it would make sense that I’m worried about losing him, too.

  Yeah, that’s it. It was just a moment of weakness in my troubled heart.

  There’s no way I would actually be jealous of a woman Carter might be interested in.

  No way in hell.

  Chapter 9

  Carter

  After a quick stop at the grocery store to pick up some essentials we’ll need for the night, I swing by the best Chinese place in Seattle and grab all of our favorites.

  The Rampage doesn’t have a game tonight, and now that practice is finished up, I have the entire night free.

  To spend with Avery.

  Just the thought sends little butterflies of anticipation racing through my stomach.

  Oh, if Jeffers could see me now.

  I grin, not even the thought of Brandon Jeffers and his smart mouth able to dampen my mood. Don’t get me wrong; the asshole is a good friend. But he sure as hell doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

  I decided earlier that Avery and I would be kicking it old school tonight. I got all of our favorite junk food at the store, and I have 10 Things I Hate About You cued up on the DVR. We’re going to gorge ourselves on Chinese takeout and ruminate on the hotness of Heath Ledger and Larisa Oleynik. I’m definitely Team Larisa, FYI.

  I think tonight is exactly what Avery needs to get her head back on right. A night of nineties movies, junk, and food packed with MSG is always the cure for whatever ails you. At least for the two of us.

  And, sure enough, as soon as I walk in the door, arms laden with all my goodies, Avery springs from the couch, hustling over to the kitchen to assess my bounty.

  “Red Vines, Skittles, M&M’s, popcorn…Carter Hughes, I think I just fell in love with you.”

  The words send a jolt right through my heart, but I simply smile. “You just wait until you see what I’ve got in this bag.”

  She moves to reach for it, but I pull it away before she can grab it.

  “Uh, uh, uh. You have to eat your dinner first,” I tell her, nodding my head to the brown paper bag on the island as I move to the fridge to put the cake and ice cream inside. I wait until her back is turned before I remove the items from their bag, wanting to surprise her with them later.

  She takes the cartons of Chinese food out of the paper bag, opening and sampling each one as she goes. I don’t even care that she’s using her fingers to grab pieces of chicken and shrimp. It just makes me so damn happy to see her smile.

  “Okay, seriously, Carter, did someone die or something? Why are you trying to butter me up?”

  I roll my eyes. “What? A guy can’t just do something nice for his friend?”

  She ponders this for a moment. “Well, yes,” she decides. “But this seems like a lot. Even for you.”

  I shrug. “I just thought you could use a night off. From everything. Phones, laptops, Facebook…and most of all, thinking about that asshole.”

  I expect the mention of Miles to put a temporary frown on her face, but instead, I find the opposite. A bright smile spreads across her lips, light dancing in her eyes as she looks at me.

  “Carter Hughes, you are a genius. Please tell me you at least have Jurassic Park or something other than The Sandlot we can watch. I need a good nineties movie in my life.”

  “Even better,” I say with a smile. “I’ve got Patrick Verona.”

  Avery squeals, her hands forming into fists, which she shakes excitedly in front of her. “No way. No way, no way, no way. I get to spend my evening with the hottest guy to have ever existed?”

  “Well, and Heath Ledger,” I joke, giving her a playful wink.

  She lets out a hearty chuckle. “Oh, believe me, I know what a hot commodity you are these days. I saw those girls at the Needle yesterday.”

  Her response surprises me because I’m not sure which girls she’s referring to. And also because it’s incredibly weird for her to notice other women. Avery has always been a confident person, never comparing herself to every other woman in the world and never feeling the need to belittle others to try to make herself feel better. It’s always been one of my favorite things about her.

  So, to hear her mention another woman is strange. Especially because I’m pretty sure I see a flicker of…something…pass across her face.

  I shrug it off though, certain I’m trying to read more into things than what’s actually there. Instead, I just say, “You’re crazy,” grabbing a couple of the cartons of food off the counter and walking into the living room, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

  We take turns passing the food back and forth, both of us laughing when that poor Izod reject drives his scooter over the side of the hill. Doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen this movie; that will never not be funny.

  By the time Kat starts reciting her poem to Verona, the food is completely gone, including the vast majority of the candy and popcorn I grabbed on the way home.

  When I see Avery reach up and wipe a stray tear from her cheek, I stand, clapping my hands together as I walk to the kitchen. “Right. Time for your surprise.”

  I instruct her to wait on the couch, moving swiftly around the kitchen to gather the necessary items. Slicing off a giant hunk of the chocolate cake I purchased, I top it with two scoops of mint chocolate chip ice cream before drizzling chocolate sauce over the top of it all.

  I fix my plate the same way, sliding a spoon into each before hoisting them both up—triple chocolate cake is pretty freaking heavy—and walking back toward the living room.

  “Close your eyes,” I say as I step up behind her.

  She reaches up and covers her eyes with her hands, and I can practically see the grin spreading across her face.

  My Avery has always loved surprises. As long as they aren’t of the sex-tape variety, that is.

  I reach over her and set the plate in her lap. “Okay, open up.”

  Her hands drop from her face, and a high-pitched shriek bursts out past her lips. “Oh. My. God. This is the most perfect creation I’ve ever seen.”

  I grin as I walk around the couch, sitting down beside her, looking down at my own plate. “It is pretty amazing, if I do say so myself. I figure the awesomeness of the ice cream will overpower any dry cake we might have to endure.”

  This time, it’s her turn to roll her eyes at me. “Oh, please. The only reason this green glob of goo is even tolerable is because of the delicious heaven resting beneath it.”

  It’s an age-old debate between us—cake versus ice cream. Avery has always maintained that cake is God’s gift to this world, and I am of the opinion that there’s not a damn problem in this world that ice cream can’t solve.

  Nice to see some things never change.

  We both dig into our treats, and I pull up The Sandlot and hit play. She gives me an exaggerated eye roll.

  “What?” I say innocently. “I told you we needed to rectify this situation ASAP. Three years of no Hambino is just not okay.”

  She’s always liked to give me shit about my love for this movie, but deep down, I know she loves it, too. She complains and groans the whole time it’s on, but her eyes never once stray from the screen, the smile never leaving her face and the lines flowing out past her lips as easily as they do my own.

  Right around the part where Scotty Smalls gets the guys into the
biggest pickle of their lives, Avery yawns widely, stretching her arms up over her head and arching her back.

  I try to pretend that watching her breasts push out against her shirt doesn’t affect me.

  But I’m a damn liar.

  I allow myself just a moment to look while her eyes are closed as she moans through the pleasure of the stretch.

  Jesus Christ.

  And, if that wasn’t bad enough, the second her eyes open, she spins in place on the couch, kicking her legs up on the now-open space and laying her head in my lap.

  Damn good thing you let that designer buy these fucking throw pillows. Avery would’ve gotten an ear full of something other than softness if she didn’t have a pillow to grab on her way down.

  “Is this okay?” she asks, already settling herself against me.

  She knows I won’t protest, this position not unfamiliar from all the nights we spent together, growing up.

  I swallow hard, trying to steady my breathing before I speak, “Yeah. But don’t feel like you have to stay up with me. You can go to bed if you’re tired.”

  She shakes her head against the pillow in my lap, and the movement does nothing to help the…problem developing in my jeans.

  “No, I want to finish the movie. I’ve missed this so much.”

  Her eyes focus on the screen, watching as the guys lower Yeah-Yeah down to try to get the Babe Ruth ball back. I try to turn my attention back to the movie as well.

  I mean, come on. Who doesn’t know who Babe Ruth is?

  The distraction doesn’t work though, my thoughts still fixed firmly on the fact that Avery is resting only inches away from my dick.

  How in the hell did I survive all those years of this? This is torture.

  I keep my eyes on the screen, flicking them down every few seconds to look at her face. I think I’m being discreet, but when Avery’s voice interrupts the sounds of the movie, I know I’ve failed.

  “You’re not even watching,” she says, rolling over and giving me a small smile.

  “Just checking to see if you were asleep,” I lie.