Filthy Forward : A Hero Club Novel

by Kelsey Cheyenne

  “Hi, ladies.” Tatum is wearing the same tight long-sleeved shirt I saw him in earlier and now I can see the black Nike soccer shorts hugging his delectable ass.

  “Are you grabbing lunch? You should join us.” I stare a hole through my best friend’s head, but she’s oblivious.

  “No, no, well, yes, I am grabbing lunch, but I have a lot of work to do. I need to get back.” His eyes find mine for a split second, but I glance away.

  “Then I guess we’ll see you at practice tomorrow.” He nods and backs away to the door to head inside. “Damn, he is fine.”

  “Morgan, quiet, he’ll hear you,” Syd tells her on a giggle, but Morgan shrugs, not a care in the world. She wants him to hear her. I’m sure if he made out with her it wouldn’t be a mistake.

  “By the way, Bri, you have spinach in your teeth.” Of fucking course I do.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bria

  Tatum has been avoiding me like the plague since our kiss. It’s been two weeks and we’ve had three games since, all of which we won. I had two exams, one run-in with Ben, and Sam almost broke my fucking ankle at practice, and yet, all I can think about is Tatum.

  Fucking Tatum and his kissable lips and his quiet moans and unbelievable body. Bastard.

  He keeps canceling our training sessions too, which is no help. Last weekend he claimed to be out of town. Naturally, I went to the field house to see if he was in his office again, but this time he wasn’t. Maybe he really was out of town, but it’s not like I can ask him about it.

  He won’t even look at me, let alone talk to me. He won’t get near me or coach me anymore. It’s stressing me out and, though I hate to admit it, I miss him.

  I’ve taken matters into my own hands and started conditioning on my own. I drive to the fields and run a few miles on the track, pushing myself to beat my times. It gives me a place to think but also to clear my head. It’s peaceful, running alone.

  I’m finishing up mile one when headlights pull into the parking lot. Someone gets out and starts walking toward me, but it must be one of those newer cars where the headlights don’t turn off right away.

  I can’t make out a face, but I can tell it’s a man. My adrenaline picks up as I take into account the position I’ve put myself in. I’m alone, it’s dark, and my keys and phone are on the opposite side of the track.

  “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” I stop running as I recognize the voice.

  “I’m not alone. You’re here,” I tell Tatum when he finally comes into view as the headlights fade. He’s looking delicious in running gear of his own. “I’m not usually here this late,” I admit.

  “I know. I’m here at this time every night. Usually alone.”

  “I can go…”

  “No, stay.” I take a quick sip of my drink before pushing my AirPods back into my ears and taking off again.

  Before I know it, he’s right beside me, matching my stride. We run together for a while and though music blasts through my ears, I don’t hear a word being sung.

  I take out my headphones and glance to the right, looking at him.

  “I had to take matters into my own hands since you keep canceling on me.”

  “Obviously you don’t need my help anymore.” My stomach drops at the thought.

  “I need you. I mean, for training. Not conditioning; I can run myself. But the other stuff I need you for.” Way to play it cool, Bria. My cheeks heat and it has nothing to do with exertion.

  He chuckles and I smile at the sound. It appears he’s in a better mood today, and I tell him that.

  “I booked a trip to San Francisco today.”

  “What for?” Am I allowed to ask him that? Is it too personal? Do I care?

  “To see my team. They have a game in a few weeks.” I glance over at him to find his brows furrowed.

  “You suddenly don’t seem very excited.”

  “What? No, I am. It’s just weird saying they have a game instead of I have a game.”

  I nod and keep my mouth shut. I’m dying to know what happened, but I doubt he’d tell me anything. There’s no way he left his team due to an injury considering how he’s been running and playing the past several weeks with my team, but then what else could it be?

  “You should come with.”

  There’s no way I heard him correctly. I was lost in thought, but now I’m snapped right back to reality. “What?” I look at him and trip over my own feet, falling and skinning my knee on the track.

  He stops running when he realizes I literally fell behind. I see him attempting to hide a smirk when he offers me his hand. “Are you okay?”

  I grit my teeth, but allow him to help me up. “Yeah, I’m good. What were you saying?”

  “That you should come with me. To the game. It would be a good training lesson for you, to see how the pros do it.”

  “Yeah, okay. Let me know when and I’ll pack my bags.” My voice is full of sarcasm as I dust off the gravel before I start running again. I know he only extended the offer to be nice since we were talking about it. I’m not going to get my hopes up or anything.

  He catches up to be in no time and we’re jogging now, still side-by-side. The tension between us is palpable and I need a break to clear the tension.

  I jog over to the grass where my water bottle sits and take a large gulp. I drip some of the cool liquid on my burning knee where the turf burn is worst.

  “Do you need help cleaning that up?” Tatum kneels in the grass beside me, sitting close to inspect my knee.

  “I’m good, thanks.” He sits back so we’re side to side and reaches for his own drink. I watch him swallow a mouthful of yellow Gatorade and it does weird things to me. I didn’t know watching an Adam’s apple bob could be seductive, yet here we are.

  “Bria?”

  I glance up from my trance.

  “You zoned out on me.” He smirks like he knows exactly what was going through my mind just now.

  I reach for my phone and see it’s almost eleven. I’ve been here for two hours already.

  “It’s late. I should get going.” I push off the ground to stand, but his voice stops me.

  “Not without stretching. I can’t risk you getting injured.”

  He’s right, and I do as I’m told. We stretch together in incredibly awkward silence. I want to stretch as fast as possible before running to my car, but rushing through would only hurt me in the end.

  “I was serious, you know. About you coming to San Francisco. Bring your friends or whatever, but you should still come.”

  I bite my lip and nod. “Okay.” I still don’t believe him, but I don’t feel like arguing about it now.

  I grab my things and turn to head to the parking lot, when once again, Tatum stops me in my tracks. I turn in irritation after my name is called, ready to get the hell home.

  “I’m sorry,” he tells me.

  Those are the last words I was expecting to hear. “For what?”

  “For how I treated you and for being a dick. You didn’t deserve it.”

  He’s right. I didn’t.

  He walks over to me and I’m rooted in my spot. His lips pull up into a devilish smirk and I want to devour them. His eyes glimmer in the moonlight. They’re two open books and I can read every single dirty thought running through his mind right now.

  I’d know because I’m having the same ones.

  “Tatum,” I whisper.

  I want him to kiss me more than I’ve ever wanted anything. This playful, flirty side of him is addicting with a hint of danger. He’s already consuming my every thought; he’s an addiction I can’t quit. I need another hit.

  He’s close enough to where I can smell his musk. The toes of his sneakers touch mine and he breathes out my name on a pained, desperate whisper.

  “We can’t do this again,” he says, but his body tells me a different story.

  I look up and he’s right there. If I push up on my tip-toes, our mouths will touch and if I’m lucky, he’ll r
ip all my clothes off and take me right here next to the spot where we first met.

  I go for it, closing my eyes and pushing onto my toes, but I’m hit with something wet. Did he spit on me? Because that’s not something I’m into.

  I open my eyes when more water hits me. He has the same reaction at me, looking around before busting up laughing.

  The sprinklers had turned on.

  Still, I’d kiss him and pretend we’re Noah and Allie, making out in the rain. But the truth is, kissing in the rain isn’t sexy. It’s pretty un-sexy, actually. And right now it just kind of looks like we both peed our pants.

  We run away to our cars to get out of the water. The moment is officially ruined.

  “Bria?” I look at him. He’s a broken record with how much he’s repeated my name tonight. “Don’t ever run at night alone again. Call me and I’ll run with you.” I agree and hop into my car to drive home.

  At least now I won’t need a cold shower because the sprinklers already took care of that for me.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tatum

  “Where were you last night? You got home late.” I stall where the girls are stretching when I hear the question Morgan asks Bria.

  “I was running.”

  “You’re not usually out that late.” Her friend is pushy and skeptical and something about her rubs me the wrong way.

  “I had a lot on my mind. I didn’t mean to be that late. It just happened.” She shrugs and turns the other way to work out her opposite leg.

  “Alright ladies, line up. We don’t have another match for four days, which means we’re going to push the conditioning hard today.” Loud groans erupt around me.

  Despite being hired as the assistant coach, Paxton has been pretty lax about letting me hold the reigns. Truth be told, I think he likes the change of pace and taking a step back.

  My phone is linked up to the speakers and I pull the device out of my pocket to set it up. The team lines up and I line up beside them.

  “I’m going to run with you guys. If any of you can beat me, we’ll play World Cup after this.” Everyone gets excited by the prospect. “But don’t get your hopes up.” There’s only one person on this team who even has a shot at beating me.

  I turn to Paxton. “Coach, can you hit play on my phone?” He complies and once the track starts to play, the groans around me get louder.

  The countdown begins and then the first beep sounds. Everyone walks to the other side of the field, saving their energy. No one ever likes the beep test, but it’s a great conditioning tool and I wanted to pull it out to see what progress the team has made since the season started.

  The first few levels are a breeze, but after nine levels things start to go downhill. The goalies drop out not long after. A few others follow until there’s only a handful of us still standing.

  Paxton is calling out the girls who don’t quite make it over the line in time until finally it’s me and Bria going head to head.

  The team rallies, cheering for their captain to beat me. I glance at her on my left and see her labored breathing and rosy cheeks. Still, there’s a fire in her eyes, showing me she’s not going to back down.

  I move closer to her as we run and talk to her when no one else can hear.

  “How about a truce? One more lap and we’ll both stop.” She eyes me with skepticism, like she doesn’t trust me. The fire brightens her blue eyes and her ego wants to tell me no, but I know she’s tired.

  “Does a tie mean the team wins?”

  “Yes.”

  “Deal.”

  We finish one last level before calling it quits. I walk over to where she is, hunched over with her hands resting on her knees.

  “Great job, Bri.” I turn to face the rest of the team. “This is what you should aspire to. All of you have it in you; you just need to push yourselves harder.”

  “Or you need to push us all harder instead of focusing all your time and special attention on one player,” Sam retorts, placing her hands on her hips and her nose in the air.

  “If you have the energy to talk back, you didn’t push yourself enough. Go run another two miles on the track.” She stomps away with a huff. If she wants to be pushed, I’ll push her.

  “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. Bria is not getting special attention. She’s getting trained and worked to the bone. The sessions are grueling but I push her because I think she has what it takes to make it to the next level. If anyone wants to join us tomorrow morning, feel free. We start at five a.m. by running the cross-country trail as fast as possible. If we don’t beat our best times, we run it again. We follow up with a brief lesson on foot skills, then suicides, then a cooldown of three miles on the track. So, please, feel free to join us tomorrow. I look forward to seeing you there. Now get some water and then get out on the field.”

  The team stares at me before staring at Bria who is red-faced and shoots me a death stare. I don’t think anyone will join us for training tomorrow and truth be told, I don’t want them to. I like the time I get to spend with Bria alone. I shouldn’t. I should steer clear of her, but I can’t and call me Rhett Butler because frankly, I don’t give a damn.

  The girls circle up on the field and I join them as we split into groups of four to play World Cup. We have six teams, and though I wanted Bria on my team, that wouldn’t be fair.

  We each choose a country and then two teams play against one another. The point is to score a single goal and the team that doesn’t score is eliminated. We cycle through teams this way until there are only two teams, or countries, left standing.

  I knew it would come down to my chosen team, Spain, against Bria’s chosen team, Brazil. Bria has her three friends on her team—Morgan, Lindsay, and Sydney, while I’m stuck with a group of non-starters. Still, this line-up makes it a pretty fair match.

  I watch Bria’s feet as she uses the new skills I taught her. She’s light on her feet and I’m captivated watching her work. She shoots, but the goalie stops her and throws the ball back out to the middle of the field.

  “Come on, Tatum. Take the ball from me. What are you waiting for? Can’t you get it? Am I,”—she fake gasps—“better than you now?”

  Her big, expressive eyes are thick with mischief as I look at her. She’s goading me, and her trash-talk game needs work. Yet, I fall for the trap and lunge for the ball like a goddamn rookie. She passes it to a teammate who shoots but luckily hits the crossbar.

  This time, I get the ball.

  “It’s going to be a real shame when you lose after talking shit,” I tell Bria, my voice low enough to keep anyone other than her from hearing me.

  “Who says I’m going to lose?” We’re squared off and it feels like another one-on-one game between her and me.

  One of the girls on my team calls for the ball, claiming she’s open, but I barely hear her and I don’t glance her way. I focus on the girl in front of me and getting the ball into the goal.

  I move backwards with the ball to get a better view of the field, thinking Bria would back off her defense, but she’s smart and she follows me back.

  “I’m not going to let you get a shot off from back here if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking about, Bria.”

  I stare at her pointedly as I grit out the words. I’m thinking of wrapping her ponytail around my wrist, having her hide under my desk in the office and take my cock into her mouth. I’m thinking of the thin tank tops she wears, thin enough to always showcase her sports bra underneath. I’m thinking of her cheetah-print shorts and how they hug her firm, toned ass and what it would look like hugging my dick.

  Every time I see her in these skimpy soccer outfits, all I can think about is our kiss and kissing her again. And doing more than kissing her.

  But I’m in the middle of the field, wondering what it would be like to fuck her. And I’m distracted. And she manages to steal the ball away from me.

  She bolts back down th
e field and around my other teammates and I know this is it. It’s game over.

  She shoots and scores, the ball soaring into the top left corner of the goal. She runs to her friends, cheering. I watch like a fucking creep.

  While she’s mid-hug with one of the girls, she meets my eyes once more. Her brows are furrowed as she stares at me. She has no idea how bad I want her and it has to stay that way.

  I start to clean up all the supplies as the girls get drinks and cool down. Practice is over and in a few minutes I’ll be alone with my thoughts. Though I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  “Trevino, can I talk to you in my office?” Fuck. What does Paxton want? I’m praying he didn’t catch me staring at Bri. I don’t want to have to explain myself.

  After the girls leave, I meet Paxton in his office in the field house. Walking down the concrete hall to the tiny room feels like a death walk. I tap my knuckles on the door once out of courtesy before Coach waves me in. I take a seat across from him on the opposite side of his desk and wait for him to start talking.

  “Is there something you need to tell me?” I swear my heartbeat doubles in tempo and I hope my face doesn’t give me away as I try to play it cool.

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “I’m not one to pay attention to rumors, but when you came here, you told me you were injured as the reason you’re not with the Elite right now. I bought it in the beginning, but I see how you’ve been running and training. If you had a hip flexor injury, you wouldn’t be able to run the way you do or even walk. We both know it. I’ve heard a lot of damning things and I don’t want to believe them, but I am allowing you to be around my girls. Right now, I need you to be straight with me.”

  On the plus side, he’s not questioning me about Bria. Well, not directly anyway, but in a sense, that’s exactly what he’s asking me about. Even if doesn’t know it.

  I don’t know what to tell him. I’m caught completely off guard. I got cocky and naïve, assuming I wouldn’t get caught and the lies wouldn’t catch up to me. Fucking Mitch opening his big mouth to the reporter. Who knows what’s out there now. Since I haven’t gotten a call from Murray, it couldn’t be too bad, right?