In the days after my fight with Ivy, I find myself thinking about Chris more than I have in a long time. And about how hard my parents tried to get me to try to quit the game after he got hurt. Even though I know Ivy isn’t asking me to give up football, I could see in her face how worried she is about me being injured. I can’t handle having another person in my life try to talk me into quitting the game.
Can we make this work? I wonder. Or is football always going to be something that comes between us?
Cash leaves on Saturday, the day before I leave for camp. He’s planning to stop in Atlanta before he turns north toward Atlantic City. I tell him to say hi to our folks for me, and he promises to come back to Springville sometime the fall to come see me play a game with my new team. The following day, I say goodbye to Ivy and Zeus, then head to Rochester for three weeks.
When I get to the camp, which is on the campus of the university in Rochester, I check into the dorms and get my room assignment. I go upstairs and throw my stuff on my bed, then I head out to the meeting with the head coach, Phil Porter, who sets the scene for us in an auditorium-style classroom.
The next morning is our first practice. I’m up at six to grab breakfast with the team. Then it’s off to the training room to talk to the docs about the results of my latest physical. After that is an hour-long session of lifting weights. Since it’s the first day, I’m not in pain yet, but I know from experience that tomorrow, I’ll be battling stiffness, pain, and bruises.
After weight training, it’s off to meetings. We had a team meeting yesterday, so this one is relatively brief. Then there’s a special team meeting without the quarterbacks, and then an offensive meeting. By the time we’re sent to our lockers to get ready for practice, I’m all meeting’ed out and looking to blow off some steam, so I’m really looking forward to getting out there on the field.
Training camp practices are open to the public, and there’s a pretty good crowd out there today. When we walk out on the field, the fans erupt. Next to me, our quarterback, Jake Ryland, grins. I grin back. It’s a great feeling, hearing the cheers greet you. It never gets old.
There are five veteran receivers and five rookie free agents at training camp. The team will only keep five wide receivers on the roster, so for one of the rookies to make the team, he has to unseat one of the veterans. I keep my eyes on the rookies as we practice, sizing them up, but I don’t see anyone who looks like he can shove me out. I shut everything else out except for the work. We practice for two hours, then grab lunch and hang out until the second practice.
By the time we’re done with second practice, it’s evening and I’m pretty worn out. It’s an effort not to fall asleep for the last meetings of the day. After we’re done for the night, I head to the locker room with the guys, shower up, and trudge back to the dorms. This will be our daily routine for most of the next three weeks. It’s intense, exhausting, and even though it’s tough as hell, I would trade this life for anything.
We don’t have a lot of down time during training camp, but we do manage to carve out the occasional half-hour or so before bed to have a beer in one of the dorm lounges. One night I’m shooting the shit with Jake, the quarterback, who’s telling me about his checkered reputation in Springville and how it almost cost him his position with the team. Apparently, he met his girlfriend, Rinn, when the team’s owner, Knute Amundson, gave him an ultimatum to clean up his act. Jake’s penance was to start doing high-profile volunteer work with a local charity. Apparently, Rinn was the director of the charity at the time.
“God damn, that woman couldn’t stand the sight of me when I first met her,” Jake shakes his head ruefully as he tells me about her. “She thought I was just a hotshot athlete with only one thing on my mind. Well,” he concedes with a laugh, “I guess she was mostly right about that one. But still. It definitely took some time to get her to see beyond the dumb jock stereotype.”
I smirk. “Funny, my next door neighbor sounds a lot like your girlfriend.” I say.
Jake turns an appraising eye on me. “Next door neighbor, eh? That all she is?”
“Not exactly,” I admit with a grin. “I don’t know for sure what else she is, though. Still trying to figure that out.”
“That right?”
I laugh. “So, your girlfriend. Rinn. How’s she feel about football? She like the game?”
Jake chuckles. “When I first met her, she had no idea at all who I was, even though I’m the starting quarterback for the NFL team in the town where she’s lived her entire adult life. She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. She’d actually never seen a pro football game, and had no desire to. Now? She’s at every home game, cheering herself hoarse.”
The smile on Jake’s face when he talks about Rinn makes it obvious: he’s happy as hell, totally in love with his woman. “That’s great, man,” I say. It’s all I can manage, because suddenly there’s a lump in my throat, and I don’t know where it came from.
Jake takes a final swig of his beer and stands up. “Well, man, I’m gonna head off to bed. I’m wiped.”
“Sounds good,” I nod. “See you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
He grimaces wryly. “You got that right. Too early.”
I sit and finish my beer as I stare out the window at the street lamps illuminating the campus. I wonder what Ivy’s doing right now, I think idly.
Then I stand up, toss my empty in the bin, and head off for bed.
23
ivy
Knox told me before he left that the schedule at training camp was punishing and that he probably wouldn’t have a lot of opportunities to call, so I’m not expecting to hear from him much, if at all, for the three weeks.
I tell myself that’s a good thing. I can definitely use the time to make some headway on my research, which I’ve been kind of neglecting lately. The trouble is, I can hardly concentrate on my work. Every time I start another article, I think about Knox, and wonder what he’s doing right now. I don’t know exactly what football players do during training camp, but in my mind’s eye, all I can see is them facing off on the field and smashing into each other over and over.
I’m taking advantage of a particularly nice, sunny day to sit out on the balcony and study when my phone buzzes. I pick it up excitedly, hoping it’s Knox, but it’s Franklin, calling to request a video chat. Feeling guilty to be so disappointed, I accept the call and pull his face up on the screen.
“Hey, Franklin!” I greet him cheerfully. “How’s life in Argentina?”
“Hey, sweetie.” Franklin’s normally effusive voice is subdued. “I’m fine. How are things in Springville?”
“Status quo,” I say. “Zeus is fine. I’m studying out here on the balcony. It’s a beautiful day.”
“That’s nice, honey. As it turns out, it looks like I’ll be soaking up some of that Springville weather sooner rather than later. I’m coming home.”
“What?” I say, sitting up in my lounge chair. “What happened?”
“It seems that my Argentinian adventure has come to an end.” He says this with a flourish, but there’s a note of sorrow in his voice that he can’t hide.
“Did you and Juan Carlos break up?” I ask hesitantly.
He’s quiet for a second, then says: “It’s just time to take a little break.” His eyes flick away from the screen for a moment.
“Oh, Franklin, I’m so sorry!” I murmur.
“Not to worry, dear, not to worry,” He continues briskly. “These things happen. However, would you be a doll and pick me up at the airport?”
“Of course,” I promise him immediately.
“Wonderful,” he nods. “I’ll email you my flight information. And I’ll see you and Zeusie in a few days.”
I hang up and sit back in my chair for a few minutes, staring into space and feeling terrible for my friend.
Apart from research, I do try to get out and do some recreational things — more than anything so that Knox won’t be able to make fun of
me when he gets back. I call up Robin and Alan and hang out with them a couple of times, but that’s about the extent of my social activities. I really do need to get more of a life, I tell myself glumly.
One afternoon, when I can’t focus anymore on the journal in front of me, I take a break and eventually find myself searching for videos of Knox playing football. I call some up from when he was playing for Carolina, and click on one at random. It’s a compilation reel, showing different games where he makes a difficult catch and then runs it down the field for the touchdown. As I watch, my mouth starts to open in fascination. Even though I know hardly anything about football, it doesn’t take an expert to see that Knox is amazing. It feels dorky to think this, but his movements are almost like poetry. I remember noticing when I first met him how graceful and at-ease with his body he seemed. Now, as I watch video after video, I start to see how that strength and awareness translates on the field.
I sit and watch, mesmerized. When I’ve gone through all the clips, the most prominent thought in my head is the reluctant admission that Knox was made for football. He makes it look so easy, what he does, but I know deep down that can’t possibly be true. It’s the first time I’ve ever looked at the sport as anything other than a silly, pointless game. I knew the basics, but it just seemed like a bunch of guys banging into each other until I watched the videos of Knox. When he gets home, maybe I’ll ask him to explain it to me, I tell myself, remembering how he promised to “bore” me with a lecture on the finer points of what it takes to be a good wide receiver.
Knox has been gone for a week when I’m getting ready for bed one night and my phone buzzes with a call from him. We’ve texted back and forth a few times, but this is the first time he’s phoned me since he’s been gone. I try to push down the excited hammering in my chest as I press the button to accept the call.
“Hey,” I murmur as I flop down on my bed.
“Hey, cupcake, what’s up?” his unmistakeable voice says on the other end.
“Seriously? Again with the ‘cupcake’?” I complain, but I’m grinning so wide I feel like my face is going to split.
“How else are you gonna know it’s really me?” he teases. “What’s up?”
“Just hanging out with the man in my life,” I tell him. I glance down at Zeus, who has padded in and is now sitting in front of me expectantly. It’s like he knows it’s Knox on the phone, I think in amazement.
“The other man in your life, you mean,” Knox corrects me. His words send a little shiver of pleasure through me.
“Well, maybe,” I concede. “How about you? How’s training camp going?”
“Fucking exhausting,” He admits. “But good. It’s supposed to kick our asses. What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, and all that.”
I laugh. “Wow. That sounds awesome.”
“Eh, it’s a living,” he answers, but I know he loves it.
“So,” he continues. “The team’s gonna be playing an exhibition game next week. At Port Lewis.” He pauses. “I was thinking maybe you’d wanna drive down for the game. Hang out.”
Port Lewis is the next state over. It’s a three hour drive in the opposite direction from where Knox is now.
I could see Knox. I could see his cocky, infuriating half-grin as he teases me. I could feel his hands on me, his lips on my skin as he…
I shiver again.
“I could do that,” I say nonchalantly.
“Cool,” he murmurs, his voice deep and resonant even through the phone. “I’ll text you the info. Now, on to more important business.” I hear him shift positions. “What are you wearing?”
I look down at myself: faded boxer shorts, a stretched-out tank top, legs that haven’t been shaved in four days. “Um,” I say. “Black negligee? High heels?”
A laugh rumbles from his throat. “I’d settle for an old T-shirt and a tiny pair of panties I could rip off with my teeth.”
“Huh,” I reply, my face growing warmer. “What a coincidence, because that’s exactly what I’m wearing.”
“Yeah?” I can hear the smirk in his voice. “Wanna prove it?”
“What?” I say, startled.
“Wanna video chat?” His voice drops lower, and there’s no mistaking what he means.
“I, uh,” I stammer. “I…’ve never done that before.”
“I bet you’d be damn good at it.” His voice drops lower, more intimate. I can practically feel his lips against my ear. My breathing speeds up.
“I’d be…” my voice sounds strangled. I swallow painfully. “I don’t think I can,” I finish. My face is flaming. But there’s also a low ache beginning between my legs. “I’d be too embarrassed.”
“Then let’s just keep it like this,” he rasps. “I’ve missed you, Ivy.”
“I’ve missed you, too,” I admit.
“Are you in bed?” he asks.
“I’m on my bed,” I tell him. I take a deep, nervous breath. “Where are you?”
“Me, too. In a shitty little twin bed in a dorm room.” I hear him shift again. “The lights are off, but the street lamp outside is shining through the window.”
I stand up quickly and grab Zeus by the collar. I lead him out of the room and close the door, ignoring his whines.
“Is that Zeus?” Knox says in an amused voice.
“Yeah,” I say, sitting back down on the bed. “I didn’t really want him as an audience.”
Knox laughs out loud.
“Knox,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?” he asks. He knows, I know he does. But he wants me to say it.
“Have…” I gulp. “Phone sex.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” he says in a mock-surprised voice. “I just thought we were gonna exchange recipes.”
“Knox,” I plead. I feel like I’m going to die from embarrassment.
“Have you been thinking about me?” he asks then. His voice shifts as he speaks. From teasing to a sort of growl.
“Yes,” I murmur slowly.
“Because I’ve been thinking about you,” he continues. “I’ve been thinking about you lying in your bed at night. Wondering whether you’re horny. Wondering whether you touch yourself and think about me when you’re all alone.”
I make a little choking sound in my throat, and almost start coughing.
“Do you, baby? Have you been touching yourself?”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes. “Yes,” I tell him, barely able to get the word out.
“Take your clothes off,” he says. “Do it.”
I set down the phone and do as he says.
“Are you naked?” he demands.
“Yes,” I whisper again. Between my legs, I’m throbbing.
“Touch your breasts,” he orders me in a low, urgent voice. “Rub your nipples between your fingers. I want to hear you moan the way you do when I do that.”
Oh, God. I do as he says, drawing in a sharp breath as the sensation shoots through my body. Hearing me, Knox swears softly.
“Fuck, Ivy. I’m hard as a rock for you,” he grits.
“What…” I swallow, then take a deep breath. “What are you doing?” I manage.
“I’m lying on my bed, staring out the window at the sky,” he tells me. “Stroking my cock. Thinking about you touching yourself.”
Holy God. I don’t know why this is so hot, but it is.
“I’m so wet,” I whisper.
Knox groans.
“Touch yourself, baby,” he urges. “Reach down and stroke yourself.”
I do as he tells me, imagining that my fingers are the hot tip of his cock as they slide against my swollen lower lips. I arch my back and suppress a moan.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Ivy,” he says. “It’s only been a week. It’s driving me fucking crazy to be away from you.”
“Knox,” I pant.
“Tell me what you’re doing now.”
“I’m…” I take a deep breath. “I’m touc
hing myself. Rubbing my clit.” I’m so sensitive that I have to be careful not to make myself come yet. I slide my slickened middle finger over the swollen nub and gasp.
“That’s good, baby,” Knox croons. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy.”
“I wish…” I whisper. “I wish it was your mouth on me.”
“Oh, God,” he groans. “I wish I was eating you out right now.” His voice sounds tight, strained. “God, I wish my tongue was on your clit. I’d give anything to have my face between your thighs. I’d lick you and lick you until you come on my tongue. Your thighs shaking around me as you call out my name.”
“Knox!” I gasp. “I… I want to taste your cock. I want it inside me.” My fingers slide around my clit, faster and faster, just millimeters away from the spot. My hips arch toward my hand, but I don’t let myself come. Not yet.
He groans, louder. “Fuck, Ivy. Tell me that again.”
“I want to taste your cock,” I tell him urgently. “I love the way it tastes. I love licking it. I love making you hard and wet with my mouth.” I close my eyes tight, my body going tense. “I love it when you slide it inside me.”
“If I was there right now I’d fuck you so hard you’d scream,” he rasps. “I want to feel your pussy clench around me. I want to let go, come inside you.”
“Knox,” I warn him.
“Come for me, baby,” he groans. I slide my fingers over my desperate bud and let go, crying out as the wave crashes over me. On the other end, Knox shouts, and I know he’s coming with me. I listen to him, imagining how he looks with his strong hand wrapped around his thick cock.
I’m breathing so heavily that for a second I think I’m going to pass out.
“Jesus, Ivy,” he says eventually. “Holy shit. Why did we wait a whole week to do that?”
I can’t stop myself from giggling. “I don’t know. It was… wow. It was something.”
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