Exploring the Rules: An Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  “Ohio?” Vanessa says, a bit too loudly.

  Our drinks arrive, orange peels and ice dancing in each of the glasses.

  “What shall we toast to tonight?” I ask, lifting my glass.

  Vanessa shakes her head. “I have a thousand more questions.”

  I grin. “I’ll give you two.”

  “So, you’re British and American, and your mom is from Ohio, but you live in Miami. But why do you have a British accent?”

  “I lived in England, growing up. Trips to America were for business and vacation.”

  “I’m reserving my right for my last question,” she says.

  “To friendship,” Cooper says, lifting his glass.

  “And Ohio,” Vanessa adds on.

  We look at Chloe, who releases a breath and raises her glass a little higher. “And the French for settling this city … twice, and bringing really good food.”

  “To whiskey,” I say, and we clink our glasses.

  “Hey, Miles,” Chloe greets our driver as we pile into the car, piquing my curiosity.

  “Nice to see you again, Ms. Robinson.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” she says in response.

  “You guys know each other?” I ask, turning in time to catch the smile she sends him.

  “He picked me up and brought me back to the hotel this afternoon,” she explains.

  From his seat beside me, Miles looks at me. “Ready, Mr. Banks?”

  I nod, and the engine hums as we move forward and drive the short distance to the notorious and inconspicuous club.

  “This is it?” Vanessa asks, looking around where industrialized buildings sprawl in every direction.

  Chloe waves goodbye to Miles and turns her attention to us, the shadows casting a glow that makes the planes of her cheekbones appear sharper and her eyes darker.

  I open the bag Anika had delivered to the hotel, and withdraw the four masks inside. “I was told these are required.”

  “Oh! They’re beautiful.” Vanessa reaches for a black mask with rhinestones and glitter dusted around the eyes, cut into an intricate pattern, while Cooper takes the single white plain mask, leaving me the black one and Chloe with a mask constructed of black lace that matches her dress nearly perfectly. She glances at it and then me as Cooper and Vanessa help each other with their masks.

  Slipping my mask back into the bag so I can put hers on, I motion for Chloe to turn around. She does so slowly. I take a measured step forward as she places the mask against her face, the silk ties resting against her hair. I deftly tie it in place.

  She turns, her green eyes brighter as they flash at me like a second warning of the night. I put my mask on and turn so she can tie it for me, and then the four of us cross the street, approaching the line of people that winds into the alley.

  Chloe moves toward the end of the line, and I set my hand on her back, guiding her toward the door.

  “Right here,” I say. She glances at the people who are watching us with the same level of curiosity we received last night at the restaurant.

  I flash my ID at the doorman who's wearing a purple mask, and he signals to someone and wraps lime-green bracelets around our wrists.

  “Welcome to Façade, Mr. Banks,” a woman with sleek dark hair and a matching purple mask greets us. “Please, follow me.”

  Behind me, Cooper moves to walk beside Vanessa. I place a hand on Chloe’s waist, guiding her into the club. We’re met with green and purple lights offset by strobes of white across the room, pulsing music, and masked faces creating a maze that assures me this would be the place to come if you didn’t want to be found.

  The woman leads us to a set of black wrought iron stairs where she briefly pauses to say something to the bouncer who’s monitoring the space. He nods, releasing the red rope that blocks off the VIP area.

  We climb the stairs that open to couches, tables and chairs, and music a few decibels quieter.

  “If you want drinks or any food, your bracelets will ensure our servers help you right away. You’re also welcome to place your orders here. This entire section has been closed and reserved for you tonight. We have a round of Patrón on its way up. Is there anything else we can get you? Champagne, perhaps?”

  I glance at the others who look nearly as shocked as they do confused.

  “Maybe in a bit. For now, we’re fine,” I tell her.

  She nods. “There’s a phone in the corner. If you need anything, just pick it up.”

  “This is straight crazy,” Cooper says, laughing as he approaches the railing. The floor turns to glass at the edge so he can see the dance floor beneath him and out across through the waist-high glass banister.

  Chloe follows him, the heels she’s wearing flexing her calves as she looks out across the club. She says something too quiet for me to hear over the music, but Cooper laughs, and then so does she.

  A waiter arrives with another telltale purple mask and sets four drinks on the table. I pass him a few bills. It’s as much to ensure they’ll be fast to bring new drinks as it is because it’s expected with my name.

  Cooper has one arm around Chloe’s shoulders as they step away from the edge and reach for a shot glass.

  “Hey, Coop,” Chloe says, holding her shot glass. “Truth or dare.”

  He groans. “Dare.”

  “At the bar downstairs, you have to order a slippery nipple.”

  Vanessa straight cackles. Chloe works to keep a straight face, but as Cooper slowly shakes his head, she breaks, her lips curving into a wide smile that her lipstick accentuates.

  “Let’s go!” Vanessa says, tipping her head back and pouring down the shot in one quick drink.

  We follow Cooper to the bar, and like promised, a bartender moves over to us instantly. “What can I get you?”

  Cooper glances at Chloe and shakes his head. “Two slippery nipples.”

  The bartender pauses, but then Chloe giggles, and his attention shifts to her. The obscure drink order is all but forgotten, as he’s clearly distracted for a full minute as he takes her in. He finally turns behind him, constructing the two drinks that he sets on the bar.

  Cooper slides one of them to Chloe. “Drink up.”

  “But it’s your nipple,” she says, shaking her head. The guy off to her side hears the particular word, his gaze dropping to her chest. “His nipple, not mine,” she tells the stranger, who looks at Coop.

  Vanessa giggles. “Drink, and let’s go!” she says.

  Cooper shakes his head, pushing one of the drinks toward her again. She accepts it this time, and the two toast. Her smile is impossibly bigger as she chews the maraschino cherry at the bottom of her glass.

  “How are you feeling?” Vanessa asks the pair of lightweights.

  “Warm,” Chloe admits, fanning herself.

  “Well, let’s get you hot.” Vanessa grabs her hand, and the two lead us out toward the dance floor where steam billows into the air and the lights flash, adding to the anonymity. The DJ spins a new song, and the girls stop, arms raised as they dance together, attracting the attention of a group of guys who begin to move closer but stop when Cooper moves into a possessive stance between the girls and the interested party. Vanessa moves toward him, dancing against him.

  Chloe grins and begins dancing with another guy who approaches her. She closes her eyes as the music seems to take over her body. It’s hypnotic and addictive in a way that makes something dark and aggressive bloom in my chest.

  A waitress weaves through the crowds. I catch her attention by raising my hand, her gaze landing on my bracelet.

  It only takes her a few minutes to return with the shots I ordered. I down two of them and carry the third to Chloe.

  She looks at me, a thin cloud of confusion in her eyes before she accepts, placing those red lips to the glass and swallowing it down.

  I wrap my fingers around her waist, pulling her against me, and lower my mouth to her ear. “Tonight, we call a truce.”

  She pulls back, tipping
her chin to one side as her eyes narrow with question. “Do we need a truce?”

  “You don’t like me much,” I point out.

  She says something, but I can’t hear her over the noise. I grip her hip a little tighter, dropping my ear closer to her mouth. “I don’t know you,” she repeats.

  “I’m an arse.”

  She laughs. “That part, I know.”

  “Don’t forget it.”

  “How do you propose a truce with that caveat?”

  I flash her a smile that promises promiscuity, but instead of leaning into me, she backs away, shaking her head as she looks at me.

  She stops a few feet away, dancing with a guy who moves in beat with her, her hips rolling with his like she’s just offered me the next round of truth or dare.

  I should turn around and spend the night surrounded in booze and hot skin that would be guaranteed to end with meaningless pleasure.

  I should be going up to the VIP section and focusing on the meeting from this morning and what was relayed to me—and more importantly, what wasn’t.

  I should be erasing these thoughts and the image of Chloe fucking Robinson, and the way I want to decipher the silent glances she tucks away when she looks at me.

  Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll care about the fucking rules.

  I close the distance between us, my intention clear as I make eye contact with the guy she’s dancing with, who reads my thin veil of patience and takes the hint to move.

  I slide my hand over her waist and down her hip, trailing across the lace fabric. She watches me, a dozen questions and objections clear in her gaze as I move closer. The tempo is fast, but the beat is slow, carrying her body to move against mine.

  It’s then I realize the orange scent is from her hair, and the floral scent is her skin as I slide against her.

  We move like we know each other, know each other in intimate ways that dictate how our bodies move together with hunger. And when she turns, pressing her arse and back against me, I run my hand over her body and up through her breasts, across her sweat-dampened skin and along her neck, holding her there, feeling her breaths and the race of her heart.

  It’s fucking intoxicating.

  She turns again, eyes dilated, hands balanced on my waist, and my thoughts are lost in a deep ravine between yesterday morning and tonight. I consider what it would feel like to kiss her properly. What she would taste like and if it would make it easier or harder to finish the rest of this trip.

  Chloe raises her hand, instantly catching the waiter’s attention, and though I was ready to drag her upstairs to the VIP lounge and make the absolute best use of the privacy, my thoughts cool as she steps away to place her order.

  “Hey,” Cooper says, wrapping a hand around my shoulder. “This place is fucking lit.”

  I nod. “Good. Enjoy it. I have a meeting in the morning and need to prepare for it.”

  Cooper raises his eyebrows. “You can’t leave now.”

  I grin. “I’ve got like ten spreadsheets I haven’t even started on yet. Have whatever you guys want. They’ll send the bill to the hotel.”

  “Dude, we’re not here so you can pay for everything. That’s not why I invited you on this trip.” There’s a scratch of annoyance and an even deeper one of offense on Cooper’s face.

  “I know. I want you to have a good time. Vanessa’s having fun. Dance with her. Drink. Do whatever. The lounge is yours all night.”

  “Are you going to the hotel or upstairs?”

  “Upstairs for now. I need to make some calls and go over some shit they sent over.”

  “Okay. Well, if you need anything…”

  I shake my head. “Have fun.”

  I disappear through the crowds of people, making my way back to the VIP lounge where I pace across the floor, my body restless and tightly wound.

  “Hey.” Chloe’s voice pierces the space, making me feel vulnerable and messing with my headspace. “Is everything okay?” She holds two shot glasses filled with a blue liquid. She raises them. “Sometimes I get stuck in my head. I’m trying to do less of that… I think.” Her pointed heels accentuate her long legs that are swallowing the space between us. She hands me one of the glasses.

  I accept it, throwing the fruity chick drink back.

  “Is everything okay?” she asks for a second time.

  I shake my head. “Don’t look at me like that,”

  She blinks too fast, her glass untouched. “Like what?”

  “Like you want me to take you up against that wall and let everyone watch me claim you.”

  Her face pales, but her eyes dilate. “I came up here because you went AWOL.”

  “That may be what you’re telling yourself, but your body says differently.”

  Her eyes widen with alarm and offense. “That was dancing.”

  “We basically fucked with our clothes on.”

  She pulls her chin back, repulsion puckering her lips. “You’re a disgusting drunk.”

  I laugh mirthlessly, closing the space between us and slipping my hand through her hair, brushing it from her face, the floral and citrus scents of her hitting me like a drug. Her breath hitches, and her eyes shift to me, but she doesn’t move. “I’d do it,” I tell her. “I’d fuck you until you couldn’t remember another guy’s touch or name. Fuck you until you screamed and let them all watch you as you came. But that would be it. That’s where it would end.”

  The contents of her drink splash across my face. “It never started. Get over yourself.”

  8

  Chloe

  My thoughts are still buzzing, too loud to let me sleep.

  I roll over and reach for my phone to check the time. Four-thirty.

  I’ve been awake for the past two hours. The first thirty minutes were spent listening to Vanessa give me the detailed play-by-play of her night with Cooper, including details of what she felt while dancing with him—details I’d rather not know or think about my best friend—until she happily passed out with a smile on her face.

  I, on the other hand, am already dreading the rest of this day. How in the hell am I supposed to face Tyler after how things ended?

  And how had I felt guilty for thinking he was a jerk, and then right when my defenses lowered, he proved just how big of an asshole he is.

  I flip off the covers, too agitated to sleep or remain still.

  My toes sink in the plush carpet as I tiptoe across the room, silently open the door, and slip out into the air-conditioned living room upstairs where the telescope sits.

  My gaze settles on the telescope, my breath leaving me with a sigh as my shoulders relax.

  I move closer, the lights of the city making it easily bright enough to see as I graze my fingers over the expensive tool and the sleek lines. I can’t fathom having something this expensive just sitting out for anyone to touch.

  I find the brightest spot in the sky—guaranteed to be Venus—and release the clutches to align the telescope with the glowing object and look through the eyepiece, slowly twisting the focus knob until the image becomes sharp and clear.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump, nearly knocking the telescope over.

  Cooper grabs the telescope, chuckling as he rights it. “Sorry. I thought you’d jump, but I wasn’t trying to send you out the window.”

  “Liar.”

  His smile broadens, and then he points at the telescope. “Tell me something nerdy.”

  I take a deep breath, moving to be in line with the telescope again. “Did you know it’s silent in space?”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Silent silent?”

  I nod. “Sound waves require a medium to travel through, and since space is a vacuum with no atmosphere, the realm between stars is silent.”

  “What about on other planets?”

  “They have noise, like Earth, but depending on the air pressure, it would sound different.”

  Cooper raises both hands to his head and makes an explosion sound. �
�That’s awesome.”

  “Glad I could blow your mind.” I pretend to shine my fingernails on my pajama shorts. “Why are you awake?”

  “Why are you awake?” he counters.

  I shake my head. “We don’t answer questions with questions. It violates every friend rule.”

  He backs up, sitting on the couch and crossing one ankle over the other. “Are you doing okay?”

  “Me? Yeah. Of course. Why?” I wonder if Tyler told him what he’d said to me?

  Coop rolls his shoulders. “You’ve been kind of absent lately.”

  “I have?”

  He shrugs again. “I don’t know, maybe I’m in my own head, but it just seems like something is bothering you. I thought it was because of Ricky…”

  I shake my head. “Definitely not. I’m done wasting brain power or another second on Ricky. We’ll file that one under mistakes and embarrassing stories we don’t bring up.”

  He nods. “Good. He’s a fucking dick.”

  We went to high school together. Our short fling this summer was mostly because we worked together, and I think a little because he had never given me a second of attention in high school and then seemed infatuated with me this summer.

  I abandon the telescope and reach for a soft throw, joining Cooper on the couch. “I wonder if there’s a drink I can make you order with the word dick in it?”

  His eyes slide to me, narrowed and lacking humor.

  “Your face was priceless.”

  He shakes his head. “Just wait, Robinson.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be sleeping with one eye open.” I close a single eye as an example.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, ignoring my attempts at making him laugh.

  I nod. “Yeah. It was fun,” I lie.

  Coop shakes his head. “I had no idea Tyler was this loaded. No. Idea. I mean, I knew he was rich, but it seems like a third of the student body at Brighton is rich. But this is like next-level rich.”

  “Too bad he can’t use all this money to buy himself a nice personality.”

  Coop stifles a laugh.

  “I’m serious. I don’t understand how you’re friends. I keep my thoughts to myself most of the time, but he’s a jerk.”