by Teagan Kade
He looks disappointed. “Training. As much as I’d love to stay here and whittle the day away exploring that fine body of yours, I’m afraid Coach will skin me alive if I don’t show up at Atlas today.”
I cradle the coffee with two hands. “It’s fine. I’ve got some errands to run. Polly wants a catch-up.”
“She still seeing that guy she ditched us for at the club, the one in an actual circus?”
“He works behind the scenes. It’s not like he’s out there wrangling lions every night.”
“Still weird. The whole circus thing—creeps me out.”
I place the coffee down on the carpet and slide up the bed beside him. “Ah, yes. Big bad Jensen Collin scared of a couple of clowns.”
“Like I said, that book scarred me for life.”
I tickle the line running down the middle of his abs. “What else are you afraid of?”
“Losing.”
“Losing what?”
“You, again.”
My finger dances around the edge of the sheet. “Do I look like I’m going anywhere?”
“It’s an irrational fear, I know.”
“You’re damn right it is.”
He grabs me, pulling me on top of him with one arm effortlessly, the other holding his coffee away from the bed. “We’re in a really good place, aren’t we?”
I have to admit, we are. The spotlight has shifted away. Things are returning to normal and it’s nice not to have to think about stepping outside, checking every corner. People give me a smile now, not a piece of their mind. “I’m happy, are you?”
He reaches between my legs, the cotton of my panties already damp. “Deliriously.”
“That’s a big word for a jock like you.”
“Hey, leave ‘jock’ for the football guys. I’m a skilled artisan of the sporting world.”
The blunt butt of his palm rubs against my clit. I press down upon it. “Skilled at more than soccer, it would seem.
I grind a little too hard, the mug in Jensen’s hand vibrating and coffee spilling over the sides, staining the mattress.
“That ain’t going to come out,” I muse.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why’s that?”
He smiles. “Your sheets are about to get a lot dirtier than that.”
“Are they?”
He pulls the crotch of my panties aside, a slender digit slipping in to the second knuckle. “You bet your ass.”
*
Polly holds her glass up. “What did you say this was again?”
The café’s oddly deserted for this time of the morning. I don’t need another coffee. I’m still buzzing from this morning, and not the caffeine. “Cold drip coffee, from that thing that looks like a science experiment over there.”
Polly doesn’t look convinced. “I prefer my coffee lava-like whenever possible.”
“This isn’t Harvey’s.”
Polly laughs. “My god, that place. Do you remember that cupcake I got from there once? There was more mold than cake in it.”
“Harvey used the one towel for everything—cleaning the counter, taking stuff out of the microwave—probably wiped his ass with it.”
Polly shakes her head. “I don’t know how we’re still alive. School days aside, this new Scarlet’s interesting.”
My curiosity is piqued. “New Scarlet?”
“Old Scarlet would never have said ‘ass’ aloud.”
“New Scarlet does. She does a lot of new things.”
Polly puts her hand up. “I do not want to hear about Jensen’s sexual prowess.”
“You should see what he does with his tongue,” I tease. “Probably ties his laces with it.”
“Scarlet Emelia Matthews! You fiend.”
“I’m experimenting a little, so sue me.”
Polly places her glass down. “He says that, you know. You’re even starting to sound the same. Soon you’ll be the one weird entity—‘Scarsen’.”
“Sounds like a skin condition.”
Polly picks her glass back up, relaxing into her chair. “As long as you know what you’re doing.”
“I do.”
“No, really, Scar. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jensen doesn’t exactly have the greatest track record when it comes to relationships. Seems like his idea of commitment is a non-disclosure and an aspirin in the morning.”
“I’m different.”
“I know what I said before, but it doesn’t mean I’m not still watching out for you.”
I’m surprised Polly’s taking this tone with me, but she’s never been one to blow smoke. She’s always told it straight and that’s why we work. Her direct nature didn’t always go down so well at school. Teachers never like to be told by a student they’re incompetent, or incontinent.
“Pols,” I start, “you know me better than anyone, which is why you have to trust that I really do know what I’m doing. He’s in this for the long haul, believe me. That crazy Jensen who was splattered through the social pages, he’s gone. It was a front all along. He wanted to be with me this whole time, and there I was with the wrong brother. It’s my fault, really.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I mean, why didn’t I see Josh for what he was? Why didn’t I see what Jensen wanted all these years? Every time we hung out, the three of us, it must have been tearing him up inside, and all over a lie from the start.”
“A lie?”
“Josh told him we were a thing weeks before we were.”
Polly sits up. “That little bastard.”
“Yeah. Now you see where I’m at and why I need to make this work, but you know what? It doesn’t feel like work. When I’m with Jensen, it’s effortless, natural. It never feels forced like it did with Josh, and the sex. My god, the sex.”
Polly rolls her eyes. “So you keep saying.”
“Those gossip columns got one thing right.”
Polly makes a gagging sound. “Way too much information, my dear.”
“I guess it is a little too much to handle.”
“When did you become the Pun Master of the World?”
“Like I said, New Scarlet.”
My cell buzzes in my handbag. I lean over and scoop it out.
Polly blows across the top of her mug. “Jensen?”
I read through the text. “Wants to meet for dinner after training tonight.”
“You’re not on shift?”
“Not for a few more days.”
“Explains the glow. That, or…”
“Polly, I am not pregnant.”
“Shame. You two would make super-cute babies.”
“Motherhood? Wow. I don’t even know if it’s for me, you know? I mean me, a mom?”
“You’d make a great mom. You’d have to hide the handcuffs, of course…”
I give her a scowl. “I’m not that adventurous… yet.”
Polly nods knowingly. “Give it time. Give. It. Time.”
*
Jensen’s neighborhood ain’t much better than mine, a half-hour at most, but my apartment’s far more habitable even considering recent efforts on his behalf to make his place ‘befitting a queen’. It’s crazy to think I could have walked to his place every night instead of hanging out at Josh’s McMansion wondering where he was and, now, who he was with.
A group of kids blasts pasts me, two of them riding in a shopping cart. I smile as they disappear down the road whooping and catcalling. I feel their verve for life, understand it. It’s like being with Jensen has turned me into a teenager again where the world is fresh and new and filled full with possibility. The fear and anxiety I’ve felt in the past is slipping away. With him by my side, I know I can conquer anything. Put that on a bumper sticker.
Jensen’s apartment is on the first floor, number Twenty-One just like his jersey. I’m not sure which came first, if the number has any particular significance to him.
He didn’t answer back when
I asked where we were going tonight. He might even cook. So far his skills seem limited to scrambled eggs and bacon, but he assures me his mother has a recipe for lamb shanks so good I’ll be begging him for his hand in marriage before the night’s over.
We’ll see about that.
I’m smiling as I knock, nervous like always just before we meet. I don’t know why, but I think it’s a good sign I can still be excited like this, that I still have the capacity to be surprised.
When there’s no answer, I knock again, the door opening slightly and with it an odd sense of déjà vu.
I push the door lightly and it swings wide, Jensen’s apartment dark except for a light on towards the bedrooms.
“Jensen?” I call, noticing the galley kitchen empty.
The déjà vu deepens, tells me to hold back, but I move on towards the light.
“Jensen,” I call once more, making my voice light. “Come on. If you’re planning on jumping out at me, I’m going to kick you in the nuts.”
No answer.
The door to his bedroom is open, the light on.
I step in. “Jen—” the word catches in my throat.
No.
It takes me a second to register I’m not back at Josh’s place, but no, I’m here alright, Carolina the soccer groupie naked, sprawled out on Jensen’s bed, our bed, sheets ruffled and her legs wide.
I reach for the doorframe, my legs turning to marshmallow.
“Where’s Jensen?” I stammer, unable to process this at once, the shock washing through me in icy waves. I can’t take my eyes off her, her breasts and dark nipples, that damned tattoo that so mocked me the last time we met.
“Scarlet, hi,” she says casually, like we’re simply two girls catching up, like her venomous pussy isn’t looking me right in the face. “He ducked out for a moment, but he’ll be right back.”
I try to control my breathing, but my windpipe is seizing up, my chest tight. “I don’t understand.”
She kneels up, hands coming underneath her breasts. They’re bigger than mine, fake maybe. I don’t know.
“It’s okay,” she continues. “We’ve been fucking for months now, a casual thing, but I think it’s starting to mean more, you know?”
“I thought you were with Josh.”
“I can’t have both? Though I must say Jensen’s far more experienced.”
The anger that floods through me is so hot, so alien, I have to stop myself launching forward and clawing her eyes out. “You’re lying.”
She leans back, hands on the mattress. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did you really think one girl would be enough for him? He’s Jensen fucking Collins. One girl can’t satisfy him.”
The insinuation that I’m not enough for him, that I can be topped by this, this trash… It makes my blood boil. “I don’t believe you.”
She runs a hand down her body. “Why do you think I’m here? It’s not for his autograph, I can tell you that.”
I open my mouth, but my tongue’s tied. I can’t speak.
“You know what I like best,” she continues, getting on all fours and padding slowly towards me across the bed cat-like. “That little seam between his balls. It drives him wild when I lick it.”
“You’re lying,” I gasp.
She raises an eyebrow, pausing, “Am I? Does he fuck you in the ass?”
I start to step away from the doorway, Carolina swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing, continuing to walk towards me. She’s taller than I am, physically dominant. “Look, it doesn’t have to be like this. We’re more alike than you think.”
“We are nothing alike,” I spit, eyes hot.
“We’re both player’s girls. We both like a good time. We’re sharing, practically sisters.”
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” but she’s broken me, plump tears running down my face.
“God, don’t cry. He’s not worth it. My offer from before still stands, you know.”
“What offer?” I whimper.
“Stay. We’ll play. Like I said, you’re fucking sexy, even more so when you’re upset. You haven’t come until you’ve been with a woman.” She brings her hand up, licking at the span between her thumb and forefinger. “Jensen’s got a nice cock, but it’s no match for what I’m offering.”
“I’ve got to go.” I spin and start running for the door, smashing into Jensen’s coffee table and barely feeling the pain, stumbling to the door and rushing across the courtyard, anything to get away from her and him and this whole stupid mess.
The tears dry on my face as I run, my handbag slapping against my side.
How could you have been so stupid? You knew what he was.
The street, freedom, beckons. I just want to get home and forget all about this.
It’s complete night now, the lighting poor.
I come out the front gates of the apartment complex and start across the road, but I’m not thinking straight, even as the lights close in on me.
I don’t know why, but I freeze, don’t even manage to turn fully before I’m hit.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JENSEN
“You look good out there.”
It’s the first thing Josh has said to me in weeks. I nod, take it, pulling the laces on my boots a little harder than necessary.
Coach Andrews steps in, the assistant coach by his side somehow looking more worried than usual, not that they’ve got jack to complain about. We’re two spots from the top of the MLS ladder. Another couple of wins and that championship is a certainty.
Coach claps his hands together. “So, you all think you’re hot shit, don’t you?” When we remain silent, he questions, “Well?”
“Yes, Coach,” comes the patchy response.
He slams his hand against a locker. “This is precisely the fucking time when we’re not going to rest on our laurels. We’re like a shooting fucking star but you can bet your asses both Toronto and York can smell that cup. Are we going to give it to them, hand it over on a silver fucking platter?”
“No, Coach,” a little more firmly this time.
I said, “Are we going to give it them?!”
Assistant Coach Druitt takes a step back.
“No, Coach!” a little louder now.
Coach relaxes. He lives for this drill-sergeant shit. It’s embarrassing. “Good. Let’s get out there and give it everything.”
It’s hard for the mood to be anything but lively given our 5-0 over New England. Still, I remain focused.
“Collins!” Coach calls from the sidelines.
I jog over. “Yes, Coach.”
He points to Josh. “Your brother’s looking a little unsteady out there, son. You know anything about that?”
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Josh was a little hungover out there, maybe even drunk, but I’m not about to rat him out matter how much I want to. The drink could be a problem, but we need him right now. “He’s having a hard time at the moment.”
“You think I should pull him?”
“You’re asking me?”
“I must say, you yourself had me worried for a while there, but you’re back and you’re playing the kind of soccer I only see when I’m daydreaming. It’s Rio in a couple of months. You keep this up and you’ll be captain of goddamned Team USA. How does that sound?”
“Good, Coach.”
“Then start talking about Goofy over there.”
“Like I said, he’s dealing with a lot of personal stuff.”
“Girl trouble?”
“Something like that.”
Coach spits at the ground. I swear he only does it to make himself look tougher. What did the grass ever do to him? “I know you’re with his girl, son, and that’s fine, but if that’s the reason he looks like ass out there, you’ve got to fix it.”
“I don’t know if that’s fair, Coach.”
Speaking to any typical coach like this wouldn’t work so well, but I’ve learnt Andrews likes to be defied every once
in a while. It buys his respect.
“Maybe you’re right, Collins, but if he keeps this shit up he’ll be warming the bench, you hear?”
“Yes, Coach.”
He slaps my ass. “Fuck off now. There’s a bunch of 4-3-3 rondos with your name on them.”
“My favorite.”
He blows me a kiss. Asshole.
I head into the grid and get to work, but I’m thinking about Josh. I can’t seriously be expected to drag him back into line. He’s a fucking adult. He should have this shit under control. In many ways I want him to fail. I don’t know what it would prove, but it would sure as hell make me feel better for the shit he put Scarlet through.
I glance out to the midfield. Coach was right. He barely has control of the ball, transitions sloppy. The attackers will rape him dry. Maybe the bench is the best place for him at the moment.
The ball ricochets off my head.
One of our defenders, Jones, is laughing. “I thought you gave better than that, Collins. Suck his cock later. The sooner we get through this, the sooner we get to the bar.”
Or Scarlet.
I’m desperate to see her. Another day of blue balls and they’ll be sucked up into my body, a vagina opening up in their place.
I throw the ball back into the center of the grid, pointing at Jones and smiling. “How about you shut that ugly trap of yours and stop with the foreplay.”
*
I park in the vacant block next to Scarlet’s apartment complex, keen to see her and relax. It was a tough session today, tough but rewarding in that way only hard physical labor can be. For the first time in a long time I have my A-game back.
I thought Josh was heading out tonight. That’s what I overheard in the showers, which is why I’m surprised to see his Mustang parked outside her place.
I clench, telling myself to relax. Just wait.
I find him at the bottom of the stairwell near the complex swimming pool a positively sickening shade of green. “Grabbing a coffee? I hear they do it better up in the Hills.”
He stops on the bottom step and turns, grinning. “Fancy seeing you here.”
I stand by the pool, make sure he’s not within striking distance. “We’re together. Why’s it so surprising? Question is, what are you doing here?”
He leans against the wall, crosses his arms. “We’re getting back together.”