Hard As Steel

by McKinley May

  I’m chuckling at his response when I hear Jessica excessively clear her throat. I raise my head, suddenly aware I have an audience.

  Jorge's eyes bounce from my face to my phone, eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Hun, you’ve got the classic look of a girl in the midst of a sexting spree with her lover.”

  I let my jaw drop at the thought.

  Sexting?

  With Vaughn?

  Yeah, right.

  “Not at all,” I say with a rigid shake of my head. “Unless you think pictures of mathematical equations are equivalent to nudes. And if you do, you may need psychological help.”

  Jorge resumes typing on his computer, unyielding in his analysis. “I know that look, Rayne, and it can only mean one thing. Either you really like math or you really like whoever’s helping you. One seems much more likely than the other.”

  I frown because he’s completely off base. Since when does smiling and laughing down at a phone mean anything other than you’re reading something funny? For all he knows, I could be watching a compilation of hilarious cat videos. To immediately jump to the conclusion that I’m freaking sexting is absurd.

  I hold up a hand and wave him away.

  “Get back to work, King Jorge. You have advice to dish out to your monarchy.”

  14

  “¡Viva Windhaven!”

  The clinking of shot glasses echoes up and down the long, wooden table. I lean my head back and down the tequila shot, noticing the colorful mosaic tile on the ceiling as the smooth liquid burns in my chest.

  It’s Saturday night, and we just murdered Sunbend State so bad I’m not sure if they’ll ever fully recover. Because we had such an impressive showing, we’re currently celebrating the win at the only restaurant within a fifty mile radius willing to seat a party of thirty rowdy, drunk, college-aged athletes: Más Mantequilla.

  One of the owners played for the Mexican National Team back in the day, and the entire place is covered floor-to-ceiling in soccer décor. It’s safe to say everyone who works here fucking loves us. Busboys, cooks, and servers alike shower us with praise and congratulations every time we show up after a win. They even seat us in their massive private party room in the back. We definitely get the full VIP treatment around here.

  The best thing? They provide us with as many free drinks as we want, which is a shitload. But like the genuine guy he is, Coach Hanson always tips them a crazy amount to make up for us completely draining their liquor supply.

  Our usual waitress, an older woman named Maria who we've dubbed our unofficial “soccer mom”, approaches our table. She’s balancing a giant tray on one hand and it’s overflowing with tequila shots and small bowls of lime wedges.

  “Congrats, boys!” She begins placing the tiny glasses in front of us. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised. Sunbend State isn’t the same team they used to be. Six to zero wasn’t a big enough win if you ask me.” She winks jovially.

  Cameron downs his shot and sucks on a lime before putting on an exaggerated frown. “Way to take a six nothing win and make it a negative, Mamá Maria. Your unrealistic expectations are really bringing me down.”

  His frown cracks into a crooked smile as he hands her his empty glass. She sets another one in front of him before raising her hands in defense.

  “I just call it like I see it. Overall, you did a fine job,” she teases as she comes up behind me and puts her hands on my shoulders, squeezing them. “You boys are lucky you have this one to score so many goals for you. Mr. Steel here is your secret weapon.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a nod. “Imagine if Liam was the only forward on this team. Dude shoots over the top of the goal like he’s kicking a damn PAT.” I grin tauntingly at him.

  He’s a kickass player and he fucking knows it, but he really does have the tendency to shoot the ball like he’s attempting to send it to space.

  Liam flips me off before hurling his napkin at my face. “Piss off, you fucking wanker. That’s rubbish. I scored one of those goals and set you up perfectly for two of yours. All you had to do was tap them in. I do the hard work and you get all the credit. Face it, mate. Without me, you’d be utter shit.”

  He’s trying to look serious, but he’s got a good-natured smile threatening to spread across his face.

  Laughing, I hold out my shot glass to him. “Cheers to that, bro.”

  Maria looks up and down the table. “You all want some more chips and queso? Guacamole? Salsa? Tomatillo Sauce?”

  “All of the above. Gracias, Maria.” Weston blows her a kiss.

  Coach Hanson calls out to her before she disappears around the corner. “Maria, could you do me a favor and bring everyone some water?” He shakes his head in disapproval at us. “Y’all think a damn margarita is sufficient for rehydration.”

  Maria acknowledges Coach with a thumbs up and scurries away to get everything.

  “Tequila’s kinda like Gatorade, Coach. Both packed full of electrolytes and all that good shit.” Across the table, Diego flashes a wide grin as he grabs two shots and takes them back-to-back, no lime chasers necessary.

  Coach opens his mouth to object, but decides it’s not worth it. He taps his knife against his plate and stands at the head of the table, a toast incoming. The low murmur of diners in the restaurant and a muffled Mariachi tune come into earshot as everyone shuts up and gives their full attention to Coach.

  “That was an impressive showing today. If you continue and perform like this over the rest of the season, there’s no doubt in my mind we’ll be there at the end, this time College Cup Champions.”

  Coach claps his hands together and we all let out a loud cheer.

  “Defense, really nice coverage. Midfield, saw some great through-balls today. And forwards finished brilliantly. Wright and Mendoza each with a great finish.” He tips his chin at Liam and Diego before turning to me. “And four goals by Steel. Unbelievable work. Keep that up.”

  I nod as Cameron hits me on the back in approval.

  Coach grabs his water glass and raises it high in the air. “Here’s to remaining focused and determined. Never forget the end goal. Hear, hear!”

  “Hear, hear!”

  I take what must be my fifth shot as noise fills the room once again.

  I reach for my phone to text Rayne about the outcome of a little wager we had on the game. When we were texting last night, she naively bet me twenty bucks I wouldn’t score three goals. Not her smartest move. It’s time for her to pay up.

  I'm typing out a message when Weston leans over, peering nosily at my screen.

  “What the fuck, dude?” I shove him out of my personal space. “Do you need something?”

  “Nah, just confirming something,” he explains with a devilish smile.

  I know I shouldn’t encourage him or fall for his baited statement, but I wanna know what the hell he’s talking about.

  “Confirming what?”

  He grabs a chip and starts to dip it in the guacamole bowl Maria’s trying to set on the table. She slaps his hand away, but he still manages to get a giant glob and shove it in his mouth. He shrugs as he chews. “Just that you have the hots for your little reporter.”

  “Wrong,” I say defiantly.

  “She’s cute, man. Ask her if she’s interested in getting the real star of the team’s story. I’d be game for some one-on-one interviewing.” He winks one of his hazel eyes, and I suddenly get the violent urge to give him back that shiner he had last week.

  Cameron turns towards us. “How’s the article going, anyway?”

  Before I can answer, Diego catches wind of our convo and joins in.

  It’s a fucking family affair now.

  “Wait, you guys talking about that chica in the weight room Monday? She is finnne, bro. Muy bonita.” He’s got the most mischievous look on his face as he continues. “I’d love to get my hands on her—”

  “Yeah, I don’t fucking think so.” I shut down the conversation before he can finish his sentence and piss me o
ff anymore. Just the thought of them trying anything has me seeing red. “You guys won’t be bothering her. She’s trying to do her job, not get harassed by you dickheads.”

  “What? You already called dibs?” Diego questions.

  I shake my head. “Nah, man. I just don’t want you guys scaring her off.” I glare at them accusingly until they sigh in defeat.

  “Fine. No hitting on the reporter.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Can you at least ask her to give us some prime time in the paper? You don’t get all the attention, Blue,” Cam says half-jokingly.

  “I’ll put in a good word for you.”

  Diego suddenly points behind me through the glass walls and into the main restaurant.

  “You wanna do that right now? Isn’t that your girl over there?”

  I swivel in my seat, squinting to see through the dim overhead lighting. I’m about to bitch Diego out for lying when I spot her standing at the host podium with a tall blonde girl. One of the hosts, Jacob, leads them around the corner and out of sight.

  I immediately push my chair back and rise. “Be right back.”

  Weston exchanges a not-so-subtle glance with Cameron who cocks his head at me suspiciously. “You sure you’re not interested in her?”

  I don’t even bother answering before I turn and walk away.

  It’s true I like spending time with Rayne, and yeah, we’ve been texting everyday for the past week even when it doesn’t have anything to do with soccer or her math class, but that’s what friends do.

  Shit, can't a guy be friends with a chick without it being some huge-ass deal?

  I follow the path I saw Jacob lead them, nodding at students in booths who congratulate me as I stroll past. When I turn the corner, I instantly recognize the back of her long, shiny hair and saunter towards their table.

  “Stalking me?” I slide in the booth directly next to Rayne and she yelps.

  “Holy crap, you scared me!” Her light honey eyes are wide as she clutches a hand to her chest.

  “Didn’t answer my question, babe. First Café Cappuccino, now this? You’re definitely following me.”

  I scoot closer, her bare knee brushing against mine. She looks down at the contact and quickly jerks her leg away.

  “Oh yeah, Steel,” she says, shooting me a sardonic look. “As if I don’t have to deal with you enough already, I’ve now installed a tracking device on your phone so I can be with you every moment of every day.” She does that all-too-familiar eyeroll and puts a fake valley-girl voice on. “I’m just, like, your, like, biggest fan!”

  “I thought so.” I tug at my jersey. “If you play your cards right, I may even give you this to use as a pillowcase. Every lady fan’s wet dream.”

  I rake a hand through my hair and put on my sexiest grin, one that always gets me a favorable response from the female population.

  But her response?

  An unimpressed snort.

  I turn my attention to her friend who looks freakin’ thrilled as she darts her eyes from me to Rayne, obviously enjoying watching the two of us interact.

  Holding out my hand, I flash her a charming smile. “Hi, I’m Vaughn. Rayne’s new BFF.”

  I hear my new BFF groan at my introduction.

  The blonde takes my hand and shakes it eagerly. “I’m Lexie. Wow, you are a complete and total hunk. Even hotter in person. And those eyes. Like a real life Insta filter. Damn.”

  I let out a loud laugh.

  Well, shit. She’s blunt. This has got to be the wild roommate Rayne mentioned. Definitely living up to her reputation so far.

  Rayne kicks her under the table, and Lexie grabs at her leg. “Ow, R! I’m only speaking the truth!”

  Their waitress approaches the table, a massive strawberry margarita in one hand. She places it in front of Lexie before handing Rayne a glass of water.

  I look at her quizzically. “No drink for you?”

  “No, I’m not twenty-one.”

  “Okay…” I slant my head at her in confusion. “And?”

  She lets out an annoyed exhale before snapping at me. “And what? I’m not going to apologize for being a law-abiding citizen.”

  I relax into the booth and let out a chuckle. “Ah, okay. So you’re one of those girls.”

  “What are you saying?” she questions, eyes narrowed over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip.

  “You know the kind. Goody-goody. Stick-up-the-ass type,” I tease as she turns red as a damn tomato.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a rule-follower. And I do drink, Steel. Just not where an ID is required. You’re such a jerk!”

  “No,” I argue, “I’m just telling it like it is. Más Mantequilla has the best strawberry margaritas in the entire state, and you’ve been missing out.”

  “Oh, gee. How am I ever going to survive knowing I’ve been missing out on the state’s greatest margarita?” She sticks her tongue out. “I think I’ll live.”

  As I’m gazing at her face, I notice how great she looks. This is the first time I’ve seen her in something that wasn’t straight-up workout attire, and—Jesus—she looks good.

  She’s wearing faded jean shorts and a dark gray Windhaven tank-top. Her skin is bronzed from watching the game, and those cute freckles that are only visible up close pop on her cheeks. Her hair is wavy, flowing around her face and bare shoulders like a waterfall. I don’t claim to be some makeup expert—I couldn’t tell you the difference between lipliner and lipstick if my life depended on it—but whatever she’s got on is really natural, giving her an innocent, angelic glow. I can’t blame the guys for noticing how attractive she is.

  You’d have to be blind not to.

  All of a sudden, the weirdest, floaty sensation comes over me, like I’m having a damn epiphany or had one too many shots or something. Before I can determine what it is, Lexie interrupts my thoughts and shakes me from the strange feeling.

  “Rayne’s twenty-first is actually next Wednesday, Vaughn. You and your friends should come celebrate downtown with us!”

  Rayne quickly interjects. “I don’t think you guys would be interested. It’s gonna be a very mellow twenty-first, the complete opposite to the out-of-control parties you and your roommates are accustomed to.”

  “Actually,” I begin, rubbing my chin, “I think that would be cool. Wild and crazy gets old after a while. A chill bar crawl sounds great. And I can make sure the guys take it easy. Diego might take some convincing, but he’ll listen to me if he knows what’s best for him.”

  Lexie claps her hands together enthusiastically. “Perfect! It’s a plan!”

  Rayne collapses backwards into the booth with a sigh. “I guess what the birthday girl wants doesn’t matter, does it?”

  “What the birthday girl really wants is me at her birthday party.” I grin. “She just won’t admit it to herself yet.”

  She pushes against my shoulder with hers playfully. “Don’t speak for me. How the hell would you know what I really want?”

  “I know you better than you know yourself, babe.”

  I place an arm around her, squeezing her into my side. My fingers graze over the smooth skin on her shoulder, and I swear I feel her shiver slightly.

  She quickly pulls out of my side-hug and gives me a sassy look. “Oh, please. Anyway, are you planning on crashing this entire dinner? Or are you heading back to wherever you came from now?”

  Lexie’s jaw drops open. “Rayne! Don’t be a bitch. He can stay if he wants.”

  I start to stand. “Thanks, but I should get back to the team before they eat my food. Shit, they probably already have.” I turn my gaze back to the caramel-haired spitfire. “We’re meeting up this week, yeah?”

  She responds with the most pathetic half-shrug I’ve ever seen and a mumbled, “If we must.”

  Talk about a blow to a guy’s ego.

  “Wow, please try to contain your excitement,” I deadpan before turning back to Lexie. “She’s just puttin
g on an act. I promise she likes me.”

  Lexie raises a brow. “Oh, I know she does. Believe me.”

  Both Rayne and I glance at her, slightly confused, but she just leans forward and takes a gulp of her margarita, eyes wide in innocence.

  When I start to say goodbye, Rayne stops me. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  After I stare at her blankly for a few moments, she helps me out.

  “Our bet?”

  Oh yeah.

  “I’m surprised you’re bringing that up,” I say.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” She looks perplexed. “You owe me twenty dollars.”

  I give her a piteous frown. “Babe, I saw you up in the stands watching the game, so I don’t know if you lost count or fell asleep or what, but I scored four goals. That’s more than three. I win.”

  She chortles, shaking her head as she starts scrolling through her phone. “Nope. The bet was that you’d score three goals exactly. Not more than three. Technically, I win.”

  I’m about to argue, but she holds out her phone, our text messages on the screen, and...shit. She’s right.

  Sighing in defeat, I quickly transfer her the money through an app. “Check your damn phone.”