Kicked: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by C. M. Stunich

  I knew that I loved you then. I think I always had, but … it took me until that moment to realize it.

  I looked straight back at Flor, met his eyes across the dinner table like I'd done a thousand times when we were kids. When we were really little, before Flor had discovered girls and started breaking my heart, we'd passed notes to each other under the table. In fact … I reached up and traced my fingers along the wood, searching for something that I knew couldn't possibly be there but was anyway.

  My notebook.

  Flor and I had taped miniature notebooks and pencils at each of our seats, so we could communicate quietly while our parents droned on. Like I said, family dinners had always been long, dictated by good manners and polite waiting. This was made even worse when my stepmom or dad had clients or colleagues over to eat. The notes had made it all worth it and now, years after we'd written our last notes, mine was still stuck to the table.

  “Max and I … we're breaking up, too. Looks like Flor and I are both single again.” I adjusted my fork and let it clink against my plate, using the noise to disguise the sound of the ancient tape peeling away from the table. I yanked it into my lap and flicked open the front cover while my father and stepmother exchanged yet another look.

  I miss you when you're gone.

  My own handwriting stared right back at me as I struggled to fight back tears. Here was a note I never sent, that got forgotten as Flor and I had gotten older, as he'd started leaving the house more, skipping dinner more.

  I traced my fingers over the pale yellow paper, the daisies printed across the top of the page.

  “Oh, come on, Abi, Max is my best friend. We've been friends for, God, almost as long as I've known you.” I looked up at Flor, at his cruel smile and wondered what the hell he was doing. I decided to ask him, crossing out the I miss you and scribbling what the hell are you trying to do? in its place. “If he's done something to hurt you, you should tell me. I'll give him a talking to, clear up this little misunderstanding.”

  “Maybe it's for the best,” my dad grumbled, wiping his mouth with a napkin and taking a sip of his wine. “I never really liked that boy anyway.”

  “Art,” River warned, giving Flor a look. I watched as my stepbrother narrowed his eyes on his stepfather. The two of them had always had an odd relationship. Even if, somehow, Flor would stop being an asshole and we could figure out some way to make things work between us, my dad would never accept it. He hardly accepted Flor as the distant stepson he barely saw anymore. As my lover? A future husband? Father to my kids? Kids who would only have one set of grandparents between us. Eww. I swallowed hard and, even though Flor and I weren't at all related to one another, felt a flutter of disgust in my belly. Too bad it did little to stifle the desire I felt for him.

  As was our signal so long ago, I kicked Flor under the table and held my hand underneath, stretched out as far as I could without rousing suspicion. If he didn't remember the notes or the signal, I was going to look like even more of an idiot than I already felt like.

  But there, his fingers, warm and comforting and oh so familiar, curling around mine, fingertips sliding along my palm as he extracted the note from my hand.

  A flush crept up the back of my neck and my heart sang inside my chest. Stupid. I couldn't even believe that I was still feeling this way after what had happened today.

  Of course I want to fuck you. What guy wouldn't? But I've resisted for years because, obviously, there's a little something standing between us. We're family and you don't fuck your family, Abi.

  Flor hunched over, pretending to check out and stare down at his lap, something he'd often done anyway, just to show how little he really wanted to be here anymore. I watched him read the note and then glance up at me. Our eyes met again and my heart sped up, galloping along at an unnatural speed that threatened to make me feel faint. Why did he have to be so beautiful? That tight T-shirt, those muscles, those freaking eyes. But I had a feeling that no matter what Flor looked like, I'd have found him beautiful anyway. Love is weird like that, and I loved him, I did.

  Just not as a brother, more like a childhood friend. Like a boy. Like a man.

  I turned away and reached out to finger my water glass.

  “Boys can be quite the distraction, can't they, Abi?” River said with a sympathetic smile. Her mouth was so like Flor's, her eyes green like his, only not as piercing. “But just remember that there's nothing more important than a good education.”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Obviously I was aware of how important school was, and I'd been taking care of myself in that department for a long time. I never brought home anything less than an A as my final grade, barely skipped class, even tutored Flor who was three years my senior.

  I wanted to say something like Flor might. Sure thing, River. I'll be sure to remember that. But I didn't, just smiled and shoveled some food into my mouth, nearly choking on the bite when a foot bumped into my shin. I reached down and took Flor's note.

  Why'd you run away? We need to talk. Fuck this dinner.

  I stared at the page just long enough to read it, but River caught me looking anyway.

  “Texting at the table?” she asked, like she was slightly irritated with me, but could do nothing about it. I raised my head and caught Flor smirking at me, like this was funny, like anything could be funny ever again.

  “I, uh, sorry.” I tucked the page into my back pocket and kept smiling. “Addi is … homesick right now, so I'm sort of helping her through that.”

  “Addi, the Battle-axe? Please,” Flor said, not at all helping the situation. He drummed his colorful fingers on the tabletop and spun his right lip ring with his tongue.

  “Homesickness is a completely normal and natural feeling,” River began, switching right into psychologist mode. Uh oh. I'd been on the receiving end of these lectures many, many times before. Too bad she couldn't help me with the problem I needed to solve the most: her own son. “If she's feeling that way, there's usually some specific reasons. Is she having trouble with Patrick?” In fact, Patrick was due to leave back to San Diego for a few weeks, so my lie wasn't entirely made up. I'm sure that once Patrick really did leave, Addi would need my help. “What she needs to do is make sure she has an established routine in place.”

  I felt another kick and reached out my fingers, this time finding my hand wrapped in Flor's. No note, just the dry warmth of his palm, the delicate strength that allowed him to be such an established artist. I licked my lower lip and tried to drag my hand away, but he wouldn't let me. After a moment, he released me and then nudged me again with his foot, passing over a blue sheet from his own notebook. Wow, talk about nostalgia. And confusion. One minute he was telling me to shut up and the next he was confessing his own love for me. I didn't even know how to feel anymore.

  I pulled the note onto my lap and unfolded it carefully, pretending to adjust my napkin, so I could read it while River talked at me.

  I know I'm not making much sense. I'm confused, too. Come over after.

  Come over? To his place. I did everything in my power to stay away from that den of sin, not the least of which was because I wanted to be the one sinning in it with him. Every time I went over there, I found myself looking at his couch, wondering how many girls he'd brought there. I could hardly even bear looking in his room or at his bed. Did I mention that Max was Flor's roommate? Yeah, not exactly a place I wanted to be.

  No.

  I sent the note back to him, both hating and loving the constant brush of his fingers.

  “Bring Addi over to dinner again,” River was saying as I nodded, getting back a response from Flor at the same time.

  Kittens? I can teach you to feed them. No Max tonight. Please?

  I shook my head and saw River raise an eyebrow. My dad was looking funny at me again.

  “Yeah, yeah, sorry. My head's in the clouds.” I tried to smile but nobody was buying it.

  “Looks like we're all finished then?” River said, stand
ing up and sliding her son's cigarettes over to him. She started clearing away dishes while my dad gave me yet another look, this one rife with disappointment. I'd managed to upset my stepmother, again.

  “Are you two staying for dessert?” she asked from the kitchen. I opened my mouth to answer, but Flor answered for me.

  “Abigail and I have plans,” he said suddenly, standing up and putting a cigarette between his lips. He nodded at my dad and moved around the table to give his mother a kiss on the cheek when she reentered the dining room.

  “Plans?” my dad asked, his voice low. If he was this suspicious of Flor now, how would he feel knowing everything that had happened between us? I turned to Flor, as curious to hear about these supposed plans as my dad was. Whatever lie he managed to come up with, I wasn't going along with it. As soon as I walked out these doors, I was getting in my car and going home.

  “Remember those kittens I told you about? Well, she wants to pick one out. Come on, Abs.”

  Flor reached down and grabbed my arm. I was so shocked to feel him touching me yet again that I almost dropped my yellow notebook on the floor, barely managing to grab hold of it before my stepmom saw.

  “Ah, that reminds me, Florian,” she said, following us towards the front door. Flor's hand on my arm was such an intense sensation that I forgot to protest. “Your father,” I saw my stepbrother visibly cringe at that, “and I are going out of town next weekend. Could one or both of you stop by and check on the cat? Oh, and don't forget to water my houseplants.”

  Flor let go of me and opened the door, lighting his cigarette before he even stepped outside.

  “Sure thing, kaa-chan,” he said, giving her another kiss on her other cheek. I rolled my eyes. Kaa-chan, another random Japanese word that Flor liked to toss around because it annoyed my father. He thought it was just another sign of Flor's disrespect. Kaa-chan was a pretty casual way to address one's mother, and my dad already thought Flor acted too much like his mom was just a friend and not a parent.

  I moved outside first and over to my car, the smell of cigarette smoke wafting around me as I paused to unlock the doors.

  “Meet me there?” Flor asked as I glanced over my shoulder at him. Really? He looked way too beautiful standing there with a lit cherry highlighting the strong bones of his face, the soft hardness of his mouth, the scar on his chin. I smoothed my hands down my skirt, unconsciously remembering the feel of his Flor's hands on my bare thigh.

  “I'm not going over to your house, Florian,” I said quietly, glancing up to make sure nobody was watching us through the curtains. I didn't see any curious faces, so I rounded on him and crossed my arms over my chest. “What part of that sounds like a good idea to you?”

  “We need to finish talking, Abigail.”

  “Is that what we were doing in the bathroom at the restaurant?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat yet again. I just couldn't seem to stop blushing around Florian as of late. “I can't stand here knowing how I feel about you, utterly confused about how you feel about me, and having to look in your eyes and see hopelessness. This will never work. You know that, and I finally think I'm starting to get it, really get it.”

  Flor reached a hand over my shoulder, splaying his palm against the driver's side window and leaning close to me. It was a far too intimate position to be taking outside our parents' house, but I couldn't seem to find it in me to stop him.

  His face was pained and his eyes wouldn't quite meet mine, drifting away to stare at the house.

  “Abigail, I want to explain myself.”

  “Didn't seem so eager to do that before when you took off the first time, told me to shut up the second.”

  “I didn't want you to say it aloud, Abigail, because if you did, that made it real.”

  “What about fucking me and letting me go? What guy wouldn't want a chance at this piece of ass, right? Isn't that what you said?”

  “I never called you a piece of ass,” Flor growled, letting his cigarette tumble to the ground between our bodies. He crushed it out with his boot. “I … life isn't a fairytale, Abs. When you say you're in love with someone, it also usually means you want to sleep with them.”

  “Who said I didn't want to sleep with you?” I blurted and his eyes widened, lashes fluttering as he blinked at me in shock a few times. Finally, Flor leaned back and laughed at me. His laughter was so rare nowadays that it took me aback, made me remember strange things, like sitting shoulder to shoulder around a campfire, telling ghost stories with our foreheads pressed together and a flashlight stuck between us.

  I blinked back at him, wondering if he was trying to read my blue eyes the same way I read his green ones.

  “Can we please just talk? I'll even stop by Sweet Life and get you a lemon bar and a cup of bitter black coffee on the way.” Flor leaned in close to me again, brushing a stray curl over my shoulder with his fingers. The stars across his knuckles shimmered in the porch light that was bathing us both in orange-yellow. If I closed my eyes just a little, squinted just enough, those stars glimmered almost as brightly as the ones in the sky above our heads. Could've been a trick of the light, might've been because Flor not only remembered my favorite dessert but also remembered that I liked to have a cup of dark roast coffee, no cream and no sugar, to go with the sweet tartness of it.

  “If you're going to drive five miles out of the way just for that, why not meet up there? It'd be safer that way.” I hated that the last sentence came out in a whisper. “Besides, my apartment's like seven blocks from there. It'd just be easier for me.”

  “Is Addi home tonight?” Flor asked, and I nodded.

  “Exactly. Max is booked solid tonight, so we'll have the place to ourselves. Do you really want to talk about this at a table in a busy bakery?” He was right, of course. Sweet Life was open until eleven, an oddity for any café or bakery, so it was always packed at this time of night. “I'll drive us and then bring you back here to pick up your car.”

  “I don't know, Flor,” I began, but he was already reaching out, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and pulling me towards his car. My heart was skipping beats, leaving me two lungfuls short of enough breath to protest. When he opened the passenger side door, against my better judgment, I climbed in.

  I clutched my coffee cup to my chest and watched my stepbrother bottle-feed a baby kitten.

  It was … well, God. Let's just say the sight did nothing to extinguish my desire for him. He sat there in an overstuffed armchair, his tattooed hand cradling the bottle gently, the kitten's tiny orange paws resting against his fingers. The piercings, the tattoos, the strong set of his shoulders, all of that juxtaposed against the tiny sweetness of the kitten? I felt my eyes swell with tears and had to look away. Damn you, Florian.

  “Never bottle-feed a baby kitten on its back,” he told me as the cat released the bottle and he checked the level of the formula. “They can aspirate the milk. Best to feed 'em like mom would've.” A dark look crossed over his face as he replaced the baby in the padded laundry basket by his feet. He curled his fingers gently around a black kitten, putting it on his knees and starting the process all over again.

  “Flor,” I said, but the only words that wanted to come out of my mouth were I love you. I stopped talking and sat back for a moment before changing the direction of my thoughts. “I think I've got it. Use the canned formula, mix it fresh with warm water, feed them on their tummies, not their backs.” I swallowed hard and glanced away, at the paintings hanging on the dining room wall – all of them Flor's. Max was a talented artist, too, but he rarely painted anything other than skin. “I don't want you to go to jail though.” I sounded like a little kid and that made me frown. Crap. I took a sip of my coffee and kept staring at the paintings on the wall. Each focused on a different woman in a different setting, all of them fantastical, each of them with a similarity I couldn't quite put my finger on.

  Florian snorted at me.

  “I didn't kill the guy, Abi.” He paused and his voice grew dark.
“Though I wanted to.” I swallowed hard and took another bite of my lemon bar. “All I did was beat the crap out of him. He deserved it, too. Who the fuck dumps kittens into a garbage can like they're trash?” I didn't argue with him. In my opinion, he was right. But I still worried. “Anyway, I don't think anyone'll be able to trace it back to me, but I wanted you to know how to take care of these guys just in case.” Flor finished with the last of the three kittens and then leaned back in his chair, his eyes now entirely focused on me. I made myself look back at him, if only because it felt cowardly to look away and I'd been showing far too much cowardice lately.

  “So,” I began as Flor rested his left elbow on the chair arm and curled his fingers under his chin. “Now what?”

  “Why now?” he asked me as a horrible anxiety driven stomachache overtook me. I put my drink and my dessert onto the coffee table, suddenly uninterested in it.

  “Why now what?” I asked, my voice hoarse and husky. It was always husky though, like I was some sort of sex phone operator. I couldn't help that, but I cringed at the roughness in it.

  “Why wait until now to tell me that you love me?” I bit my lip, wishing I'd sat a little further away from him. Our knees were only an inch or so apart. “And when, when did you know?”

  “I … ” This is exactly what you wanted when you started all of this. Try honesty and see what happens. Secrets and lies are what got you here in the first place. “I … ” My voice failed me, cracking on that single syllable. Something shifted on Flor's face, something that looked an awful lot like sympathy. That's what got me angry. I didn't need his sympathy, didn't want it either. Even if this love was unrequited, or doomed, it was still mine and I cherished it. “I've always loved you, Flor. I can't think of a single moment when it started, maybe when I … first saw your eyes. I've been under your spell since I was five.” I choked up a little when I said that, memories assaulting me from every angle. Why him? Why did Flor have to be my stepbrother? Why not Max? If Flor had been a childhood friend or a classmate, we would've been free to act on our feelings. When he said nothing, I continued, letting it all fall out. “I decided to tell you now because I'm tired of living with the shame and the secrecy. I'm tired of getting stomachaches when I see you with other girls, tired of dreading family dinners because I just know that one day, you're going to meet a girl and get married. I'll have to watch you have kids with her, love her, hold her, and there I'll be, standing in the background like I've always been.”