Scoring Wilder

by R.S. Grey

  "I just felt scared and vulnerable lying on that kitchen floor with you. You could pull the rug out from under me whenever you feel like it... whenever you're ready to move on."

  He reached up and pulled my hand down so that I collapsed onto his lap. Our skin was pressed together, hot and sweaty from our lovemaking, but I loved it all the same.

  "I love you, Kinsley Bryant. I love you because you aren't afraid to go for your dream. I love you because you had the balls to ask me to show you my tattoos when you didn't even know me. I love you because you're so talented and yet so humble. You've been given this tremendous gift and you push yourself every day to become even better. You're inspiring to be around and I love you. Please, believe that."

  I stared at his chiseled chest, rising and falling, and let his words marinate inside of me. After a few moments, I finally glanced up and flashed him a small smile.

  "You didn't say anything about my rockin’ bod or my quick wit..." He started laughing and shook his head, but I kept going despite my laughter. "Or my amazing talents in the bedroom, or my stellar whistlinggggaggghh—” he started tickling me and I couldn't speak over the laughter. I had to use every bit of strength to fend him off.

  "Ahhh, STOP Liam Wilder. Right now!" I demanded, though he didn't heed my harsh tone. He picked me up off the ground and carried me toward the shower, depositing us both under the warm stream. He kept holding me, letting the water rush over both of us.

  "By the way, I'm on birth control and I'm clean y’know... if next time we want to…?"

  He kissed me before I could continue. "I got checked before we started dating, so yeah, no more condoms."

  I smiled up at him. "Perfect. Let’s go again."

  He laughed and tossed water onto me. "You're insatiable, but I love you," he murmured, kissing my lips. "I love you," he said again, kissing each of my cheeks.

  When I opened my mouth to tell him that I loved him too, he stole my breath with a kiss and I never got the chance. I think the sneaky twit did it on purpose.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  "Are you sure this is a good idea to look at this?" Becca asked as we huddled together over my computer on my bed. I was finally going to go online and see what was being said about me. I knew it was a bad idea, but curiosity was eating away at me and I had to know.

  “No, this is a terrible idea, but since we’ve already closed the drapes and locked the doors, we have no choice.”

  “Yeah… that’s not how that works, Kinsley,” Becca laughed.

  “There’s no choice, Becca!” I added dramatically.

  “Whatever, weirdo.”

  My life had completely flipped upside down in the past few weeks. I used to take my old life for granted. Going to the grocery store, to practice, out to eat—I couldn't do any of it anymore without a group of photographers hounding my every move. And I wasn't even doing anything interesting! Had I been leaving clubs at 2:00 A.M. with white powder dusting my nose, sure, maybe Instagram me, but carrying Whole Foods bags to my car did not seem interesting to me.

  Which is why I had to see what they were posting about—why was I still so newsworthy?

  Becca typed in one of the top celebrity gossip sites and we waited for it to load. The first few stories were about actual celebrities doing things that were actually semi-interested: cheating, partying, and spending their money frivolously.

  Then my name popped up and beneath it there was a photo of Liam and me walking hand in hand out of Starbucks. I was prepared for the worst, so when I saw "America's Sweetheart Soccer Couple" beneath the photo, I gasped. They clearly had the wrong person; that photo didn't even show the real details of the situation. Beneath my stylish sunglasses I had zero makeup on, they thought my hair looked trendy because I hadn't washed it yet that day, and there had been a coffee stain on the front of my shirt, which the website had clearly photoshopped out. I was smiling up at Liam because he was making fun of me for being a klutz with my coffee. I mean, we were happy and we were a couple, but as far as being anything close to "America's Sweethearts"... they had it all wrong.

  Becca scrolled down to the comments section and that's where all the real controversy was housed. There were thousands upon thousands of comments concerning whether I was good enough/hot enough/nice enough/stylish enough to be dating Liam Wilder. Becca didn't let me read them for too long, but the comments I had time to read tore me apart piece by piece. Some of the claims were just too ridiculous not to ignore. "He should be with a blonde."— "He should be with a republican." — "He should date someone who is Jewish."

  "Wow. People are really opinionated about Liam's dating habits. Like hyper-opinionated. Why do they care if I use a certain kind of shampoo?" I commented as Becca flipped to another website.

  “Probably to make sure you don’t use a shampoo that tests their products on animals. They said they don’t want Liam dating an animal abuser.”

  Oh good God. I wasn’t killing monkeys over here.

  The next site she pulled up had a photo of Liam and me out on the beach near his house. I remembered seeing paparazzi that day and Liam had wanted to go back inside, but I wasn't going to let them ruin our afternoon. Now, I wish I'd listened. Seeing my body in a bikini splashed across the Internet felt oddly personal. The photographs weren’t even close to being pornographic, but it felt like I should get a say in whether they get to use photos of me in a bikini or not.

  It didn’t help that Liam was rubbing lotion onto my back, and the attraction between us was clear even through the computer screen. Had there been an audio clip alongside the photo I would have surely been moaning.

  "Do you want to keep going?" Becca asked, eying me wearily.

  "Just a few more," I said, knowing the sinking feeling in my stomach was there to stay, even if I stopped looking now.

  I should have stopped.

  Why the fuck didn’t I stop.

  The next few websites were clearly going for a different angle. All of them talked about the controversy that Tara had brought to the limelight: Liam dating me when he was my coach, our age difference, his womanizing past, and my seduction of him. All of it was complete bullshit. After all, the media had mostly crafted his past anyway, but it still stung to know that some people were judging me based on this information. And not just some people, thousands of people that didn't know me at all.

  I was surprised to find quite a few new comments from Tara. It seemed that the threats from my father's lawyers hadn't shut her up and it enraged me to know that she was still out their spewing her lies.

  "I'm going to talk to her," I stated, hopping up off the bed.

  Becca sat up, her eyebrows pressed into her forehead in shock. "Who? Tara?"

  "Yup," I said, reaching for my phone. I still had her number programmed in from when she was on the soccer team.

  "Call Liam first, he'd want to know," Becca said, pushing off the bed and leaving the room to give me some privacy. I motioned that I'd just be a second. She motioned back with a crude jacking-off gesture. Never change, Becca.

  I thought Liam might have still been at practice, but when he answered, my stomach dropped. Crap, I was going to leave a vague message to get myself off the hook… now I actually had to be honest.

  "Hey babe, I'm just leaving the fields. What's up?" His voice was smooth and it almost erased all of my anger from Tara. But not quite.

  "Hey. I think I'm going to call Tara and see if she wants to meet me for coffee or something..."

  Silence hung on the phone line as I heard him fiddling with his keys and getting into his car.

  "Why would you want to do that?"

  I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts into coherent sentences. "Because she's still out there leading a hate campaign against me and maybe if we meet up and talk, some of the things between us can be settled. She obviously didn't respond to my parents, but maybe I can figure out why she's doing this."

  "For attention, Kinsley. She wants the limelight and you know it. S
he can't get there on her own, so she's dragging your name along with her."

  I sighed. "Well I still think it could help."

  He started his car before answering. "I'm not going to stop you, but I'd like you to go during the day and somewhere that will have a crowd."

  "She's not a murderer, Liam."

  "Maybe not, but she's certifiably insane, and I'd rather not have to worry about your safety," he sighed. "I still think this is bad idea..."

  I paced across the floor of my room, thinking the plan through. "Okay. I promise to do that, and I'll keep you posted. Okay?"

  "All right. Call me later. I wish you were going to be at my house when I got home."

  I smiled against the phone screen. "I know, but Becca and I promised we'd spend some time together today. Tomorrow, I'm all yours," I promised.

  "All right, love you. Good luck," he said before hanging up. My heart fluttered like it still did every time he said those words. I'd been counting. That was the tenth time he'd said it to me and it still didn't feel real.

  The next phone call wouldn't be quite as easy. I scrolled through my contacts until I came to the "T's". Tara's name was first and I pressed send before giving myself time to back out. Each ring that passed seemed to last a lifetime, and I wondered if she'd actually pick up or not.

  Then the phone clicked into the call.

  "Kinsley Bryant." She dragged out my name like it was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

  "Tara. Hi. Do you have a second to talk?"

  She sighed with an exacerbated air. "Not really, but I'm already listening, so whatever."

  Stay calm. Stay calm. "Okay, well I was actually calling to see if you would meet me for coffee tomorrow."

  "Why the hell would I want to do that? You got me kicked off the ULA soccer team because you couldn't keep your slutty hormones under wraps."

  All right. So she hadn’t had a personality transplant since we last spoke. Bummer.

  "Tara, I think we both know that you want to meet with me as much as I need to meet with you. Think of the photos they'll take of the two of us. I'll even sit outside so they get a good one of your face."

  I was being a bitch, but we both were at this point.

  "You think you're such hot shit, Kinsley. I'll meet you tomorrow, but only because I want to see that dumb expression on your face one last time."

  "Great. I'll let you pick the place. Let's meet around three." Then I hung up before she could protest.

  Dumb expression? I paused for a moment, realizing what I'd just done to myself and instantly regretting it.

  "Becca!" I called, and a second later I heard her footsteps in the hallway. When she pushed my door open I turned to face her with a solemn voice.

  "I'm meeting with the devil tomorrow at 3."

  Becca narrowed her eyes, nodded, and then stepped into my room. "Welp, I guess we better watch the rest of Game of Thrones tonight then just in case you get offed.”

  …

  Downtown LA was bustling the next day so I had to park quite a few streets away. The Coffee Shop Tara picked was mostly empty which made it easy to spot her bright blonde hair as soon as I stepped up to the outdoor seating.

  I was joking about sitting outside so the paparazzi could photograph us, but apparently Tara couldn't pass up a golden opportunity like that. It made me all the more happy that Becca had helped me curl my glossy brown hair. We'd picked out a cotton dress that I paired with a light, summer scarf and my favorite pair of designer flats. For once, the paparazzi would snap photos of me when I didn't look like crap after practice.

  "Hi Tara." I smiled down to her as I walked up. She'd been scrolling through her iPhone, no doubt googling herself, so she hadn't seen me approach. The second she heard my voice, her ears perked and she shifted her vicious gaze to me. Tara was a prime reason to not judge a book by a cover. She looked beautiful and docile. Her sweet features masked such insanity beneath them that I couldn't quite figure out how she'd become the bitch that she was.

  "Hello, Kinsley. Please take a seat."

  I thought she was actually going to be polite.

  "You're blocking the sun and I'm trying to get a tan while we get this over with."

  Or not so polite.

  "Right," I said, shifting down into the seat across from her and placing my purse on my lap. I pulled out my cell phone and ensured that the speaker was facing her before dropping it casually onto my lap.

  "How have you been, Tara?" I asked.

  "Cut the crap. What do you want?"

  She really wasn't going to make this easy. I folded my hands over my lap. "I want to apologize for the way I acted. I should have never started dating Liam while he was our coach and had I chosen my actions better, you might not have been kicked off the team."

  My apology was clearly the last thing she was expecting because her face contorted into an amused glare.

  "Oh, please. Anyone of us could have dated Liam. You were just the first one to open your legs. So don't think you're so high and mighty because you sucked him off in the field house and now you think you're actually his girlfriend."

  I could feel my eyebrows drifting toward my hairline. Welp, I guess we hadn’t actually gotten away with that as smoothly as I’d thought.

  Alriiiighty, then. On to plan B.

  "Well, if you aren't mad at me about those things, I'm a little confused why you're still going after me in the press. I've seen multiple quotes from you that are aimed directly at me."

  She rolled her eyes and tipped back in her chair as if bored with the conversation.

  "I do what I have to do to stay in the public eye. I put a pause on the soccer crap and now I have a bit more time to devote to my career."

  "Your career?" I asked, trying to keep my tone attitude free.

  "Modeling and acting," she answered dully, as if I was a blubbering idiot for having to ask.

  "Oh, that's awesome. I think you'd be great at that." And I actually did mean it. She was dramatic, crazy, and beautiful. What better person to be cast as the villain in films than a person who actually played the role in real life?

  "Thanks, but I don't care about your opinion."

  I nodded and shifted my gaze to the street for a moment. Camera flashes caught my attention and reminded me about the task at hand.

  "So then, if you're focusing on your career now, maybe we can come to an understanding..." I began.

  "And what might that be?" She cocked her eyebrow with an incredulous look.

  "You have to stop finding fame by dragging me down. The story will fade and eventually people will see right through it. Not to mention people will realize that I'm actually very boring and they won't care what I eat for lunch or how I take my coffee. This won't last forever so there's no reason to prolong the inevitable."

  A sinful smile spread across her lips. "Kinsley. The beauty of free speech in this country is that I can say whatever I want, whenever I want. If I want to keep telling the press lies about you then I will because I don't actually give a fuck about you or Liam. I care about making it big. So this whole conversation has been a colossal waste of your time. In fact, I think you've just made it all the more fun to talk about you to the press because now I know that it's bothering you. Honestly, Kinsley, you make it just too easy."

  I'll admit there was only a small part of me that had hoped that Tara would come to the light and change her ways. The other 99% of me took pride in the fact that I'd been right in masterminding my plan from the very beginning.

  I reached forward and set my phone on the table so that Tara could see the recording screen. Then I hit pause and glanced up at her with a confident smile.

  "You know, you think you're so brilliant, Tara, but what you're actually doing is against the law."

  "Oh please, I'd love to see you try and take this to court."

  I laughed and saw her perfect facade start to crack. "No. I don't plan on suing you. I don't give a shit about your money. What I'm aft
er is public opinion. You see, yesterday I met with a lawyer and filed a restraining order against you. I outlined all of the facts that happened concerning your hazing and bullying, and then I had the other teammates and Coach Davis corroborate my story."

  That was complete bullshit, but she totally bought it. Her mask had a giant crack straight down the center.

  "But still, I thought that wouldn't be enough for you, Tara, because let's face it, you are the most psychotic bitch I've ever met. So then I set up this meeting today so that I could record you confessing to telling the media lies all in the name of becoming a star."

  She scoffed. "As if, Kinsley. You think you've outmatched me, but you have no clue who you're dealing with."

  "No one likes a bully, Tara, and now I have proof. So if you spew one more thing about me in the press, I'll release the tape and we'll see what America decides to do about it."

  "They'll assume its fake," she protested, still clinging onto her confident air.

  "Maybe they will, but your voice is pretty recognizable. And you know the funny thing about the media? They want the most interesting story. So what's better than an accurate story that's also interesting? So why don't you consider which would sell the most magazines? A headline that reads Kinsley Bryant Goes to Soccer Practice Yet Again... or Crazed ex-ULA Soccer Player Stalking and Harassing America's Sweetheart?"

  I was not America’s sweetheart, not even close, but she didn’t need to know that.

  A pregnant pause passed between us and I knew I'd finally broken through to her. While slightly off her rocker, Tara was still fairly intelligent and she knew I had her.

  "I could just come back at you with something twice as big. I'll reveal more details about you and Liam," she said, grasping at her last hope.

  "You could, or we could stop this entire show right now. You can walk away with a little bit of your dignity left and I could forget that I even have this recording," I said, pulling my phone off the table and dropping it back into my purse.

  "You're just as conniving as I am," she spat, pushing to stand. Her metal chair scraped against the concrete.