Collins the Shots: A College Sports Romance

by McKinley May

  With one hand on the bathroom door, I stop dead in my tracks.

  "Who?"

  "Zion."

  "What?!" I shoot her a pointed look. "Mari, don't even go down that road."

  "I'm not going down any road; I'm just stating the obvious! He's a good-looking boy."

  "Alrighty then, no need to get you wasted. You've already got total booze-brain if you're getting all giddy over freaking Zion."

  "I am not giddy!" she quickly exclaims. "You know I can't stand him, Sydney. He's awful."

  Her words say one thing, but those crimson-colored cheeks convey another message entirely.

  "You're blushing," I point out.

  "No I'm not!"

  Ducking under my outstretched arm, she goes into the bathroom and locks me out so I can't grill her any longer.

  But it's too late; the damage has already been done.

  Her bad-boy fever is blatant and blooming.

  Looks like I'm gonna have to keep an eye on her for the next couple years...

  After finishing up in the bathroom—the clean and private bathroom!—we rejoin the party.

  Crimson's hanging out by the refreshment table, still glued to that camera. We're a few feet behind her when suddenly she speaks.

  "Sydney," she says, her back to us. "Or Mariana. It doesn't matter. I need a shot of one of you pouring some punch."

  "Does she have eyes in the back of her head or something?" Mari whispers. "How did she know we were here?"

  I lift both shoulders. "No clue. I've learned to stop questioning the unusual when it comes to Crimson," I mutter before volunteering for the close-up. "I'll get some punch. I need a break from downing shots anyway."

  Judging by the Beware! Pumpkin Punch is Deceivingly Deadly! notecard leaning against the glass bowl, I get the feeling this isn't much of a "break", but oh well. Using the giant ladle, I scoop three large helpings of orange liquid into my plastic cup. Crimson films each pour from a different angle, then tells me to take a long sip.

  I'm lifting the drink to my lips when someone bumps my arm.

  Hard.

  "Ugh!"

  I frown at the liquid splatter coating my chest and shoulder before turning to confront the culprit.

  I'm expecting a super drunk frat guy, or maybe Zion's crazy lady seeking some sort of vengeance, but no.

  It's someone worse.

  Julie.

  Clad in a frosty-blue tube dress and a sparkling tiara, she looks every bit the ice princess she is.

  But, to my complete surprise, she's not sneering down at me. She's also not gloating or cackling with her pack of Goal Girl clones behind her.

  Actually, she looks genuinely apologetic.

  "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you, Sydney." Grabbing a few napkins off the table, she starts dabbing the sticky liquid off my skin. "Forgive me?"

  "Oh, um..." I'm stunned into silence as she wipes the droplets of spilled punch off the sides of my cup. "Sure?"

  "There. Good as new." After tossing the damp napkins into a trash can, she gives me a radiant smile. "Love the costume, by the way. Have a good night!"

  And with that, she heads towards the photobooth behind the Main House.

  I blink a few times, still confused as she fades into the distance.

  That was strange?

  Before I can analyze it further, someone else is behind me, commenting on my get-up.

  "Baby Blue the bumble bee?"

  That deep, sexy drawl instantly turns to my insides to mush. I pivot around, lips rising involuntarily as I watch Cameron fill up a red cup with punch.

  "Not gonna lie, I hate those black-and-yellow motherfuckers," he continues, his sharp profile highlighted under the flame of a tiki torch. "When I was a kid, a bee stung me on the inside of my lip. That shit hurt like hell, but I wouldn't hesitate to let you sting me."

  "Careful what you wish for. My stinger's sharp as a knife," I warn with a teasing laugh. "And what exactly are you supposed to be?"

  I raise a brow at his "costume", which is nothing more than a t-shirt with a tuxedo print on it.

  He takes a drag of his drink and smirks. "I call it Mr. Hates Dressing Up For Halloween. This is about as festive as I get."

  I click my tongue in mock disappointment. "Party pooper."

  "Won't deny it." He shrugs. "But I'm not the only dude here who takes the easy route when it comes to costumes. Check out Victor."

  He lifts his cup in the direction of the junior. Victor's also wearing a printed tee, but his is one of those bodacious bikini-body ones, the kind you buy on a cruise. The clashing combination of his masculine facial features alongside the coke-bottle figure is both hilarious and weird.

  "Victor, why?!" I shake my head back and forth.

  "Disturbing, right?"

  "More than disturbing."

  Both of us are laughing at the odd visual when a realization brings me to an abrupt halt.

  "What?" Cameron frowns at my reaction. "What's wrong?"

  "We're breaking our rule," I say quietly. "We shouldn't be talking right now."

  "Yeah, I know." He acknowledges the agreement, but instead of leaving, he moves towards me. "But we should've known it was gonna get broken. Not a freakin' chance we'd follow it."

  He steps closer still. He's so tall, so effortlessly masculine and dominant, with a lustful desire in his eyes that pierces me to the bone.

  I swallow.

  "I can't stay away from you, Sydney. It's fucking impossible."

  Our bodies are within inches of one another now. He reaches out, fingers gently caressing my bare shoulder.

  "Cameron..." I murmur under my breath, a heady feeling washing over me. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing."

  His hand drags inward, fingertips lightly brushing my exposed collarbone. Goosebumps spread down my arms, my back, my neck. I visibly shiver.

  That's not nothing.

  My brain is telling me to avoid his touch.

  My heart is begging me to bask in the moment.

  And my feet, judging by the fact that they're superglued to the grass, are obviously on my heart's side for this one.

  "There are too many people around," I insist. "Someone's going to see us."

  "I don't fucking care," he states gruffly. Fiery determination floods his features. "I really don't give a damn anymore. Baby Blue, I can't—"

  "Sydney!"

  That finally breaks me out of the trance.

  I jump away from Cameron as Lexie comes running up to us. Her medieval gown fits her perfectly, the scarlet-colored fabric cinching at her waist, then billowing out in a floor length skirt.

  She and Weston are definitely top contenders for this evening's 'Best Couples Costume'.

  "Hey!" she says breathlessly.

  I return the greeting and raise a brow at the person she's pulling along with her: some random dude dressed like a carrot.

  "Okay, so I swear I'm not trying to play matchmaker or anything, but..." Lex tugs the guy in front of her. "I overheard this nice young fellow talking about how cute you were. He said he wanted to dance with you."

  "Shit. You're really putting me on the spot here." The carrot grabs the back of his neck and gives me a sheepish grin. "I do think you're really attractive, so I might as well shoot my shot. Would you like to dance?"

  "Oh! Gosh, um, I'm flattered, really, but—"

  A low, growl-like sound catches my attention. My eyes dart towards Cam. His hostile grunt is emphasized by a clenched jaw and a white-knuckle grip on his cup.

  "I'm just...not the best dancer?"

  My excuse is lame and the orange vegetable isn't buying it.

  "You two are together?" He bounces a finger between Cameron and me with an insightful nod. "Ah. Sorry. I should've known."

  "What? Me and him? Together?! You're crazy!" I force a laugh, one that is far too loud and sounds slightly maniacal.

  I glance at Cameron again and jerk a thumb towards our accuser. I shake my head in a way that s
ays "This guy....amirite?".

  But Cam isn't playing along with my schtick.

  "He's crazy." I clear my throat and jut my head forward. "Right, Cameron?"

  For some reason, he still won't validate my claims. His mouth is in a tight line, eyes narrowed like he's deep in thought.

  Okie dokie.

  I guess I'll be handling the cover-up tonight.

  "We're not a couple," I reiterate.

  "Really?" The carrot remains unconvinced. "Because it kinda seemed like it. The way you two were looking at each other, the way he was touching you—"

  "Touching her?" Lexie's forehead wrinkles in curiosity.

  "Dude, what?" Diego's suddenly beside us, jumping right into the conversation. He grabs four mini quiches, stuffs them in his mouth, and gives Cameron a pointed look. "Bro, what's this Veggie Tale character talking about?"

  Cam shrugs and takes a long sip of his beverage.

  What is his deal?!

  I glance around in a panic. Lexie's confused, Diego's suspicious, Crimson's still got her damn video camera in my face...

  I need to do something.

  I need to do something fast!

  "You know what? I just remembered that I'm a classically trained hip-hop dancer!" I practically shout as I grab Mr. Carrot's arm. "Don't know how that slipped my mind. I'll show you. Come on!"

  "Wait. Don't forget this." He shakes my red cup. Not sure how that ended up in his possession, but he hands it back to me. "Drink up."

  I chug down the Pumpkin Punch—the whole dang cup—and toss it in the trash before dragging him away from the awkward situation.

  The dance floor's packed, barely-clothed girls twerking and drunk dudes forming mosh pits everywhere you turn. Some students are grinding on one another with such animalistic vigor, I have to look away.

  It's starting to get raunchy around here.

  As we squeeze onto the floor, black-and-white spots flood my vision, causing me to trip.

  "Watch your step." My dance partner grabs my shoulders to steady me. "There you go."

  "Thanks," I mutter as I blink hard. "I think the punch is already getting to me."

  "I'm Dave, by the way."

  He places his hands on my waist and I interlock my fingers behind his neck.

  "Awesome." I nod. "Nice to meet you, Dave."

  We start to sway to the music and he cocks his head.

  "Do you have a name?" he asks with a half-grin.

  "Oh, whoops. Sydney."

  "Sydney. Pretty name."

  I muster up a smile, but I don't prolong the conversation.

  Sneaking glances over Dave's shoulder > small talk.

  As expected, Cameron's watching us.

  And, as expected, his frustration is palpable from all the way across the yard.

  I totally understand.

  If he was out here dancing with another girl, I'd be livid.

  But this is what we have to deal with. It's what we agreed on.

  Keeping "us" a secret requires a certain type of sacrifice.

  When Dave lowers his hands, palms coming to rest just above my ass, Cam looks like he's gonna blow a gasket. He downs his drink, squishes the cup in his large fist, and storms off.

  As I watch him go, I blow out a heavy breath.

  Because I feel the same exact way.

  23

  Where the hell is she?

  I scan the party for what feels like the millionth time tonight, but I don't spot Sydney anywhere. I haven't seen her since that dude was getting way too handsy with her on the dance floor. I couldn't stomach the sight for more than a minute or two; I nope'd outta there real quick before I did something I'd regret.

  Like give the douchebag a black eye and tell him to get the fuck away from my girl.

  But she's not your girl, you dumbass.

  If she was, you wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. Wouldn't have to watch another guy touching her, his wandering eyes leering over every inch of her body, inner thoughts about what he wants to do to her written all over his stupid orange face...

  Fuck.

  I shake my head, brushing the thoughts aside. I've got other shit to deal with right now, like the fact that Syd's been missing for almost two hours.

  Worry twists my gut as I down my drink and head towards the Main House.

  Maybe she's in there.

  Hopefully with no damn vegetable by her side.

  I'm about to duck under the red rope blocking off the staircase when someone shouts my name.

  "Cameron! Cameron Collins! Wait!"

  The dainty voice doesn't belong to the girl I'm searching for, but I turn around anyway.

  Good thing I do, because mystery solved.

  Relief surges through me as a petite girl heads my direction. She's dragging a bumble bee along with her—a disoriented, extremely drunk bumble bee.

  "You're Cameron, right? I'm Mariana—Sydney's teammate. She keeps asking for you." With a grunt, she struggles a little under Syd's dead weight. "I think she needs to go home."

  "Whattt?" Sydney waves off the suggestion with a slow laugh, then loses her footing and almost crashes to the ground. "No I don't."

  "Yeah you do," I say as I pull her into my side and hold her upright. I frown at her friend. "How much did she have to drink?"

  "Too much," Mariana answers. "I can't find her roommate anywhere. I'm completely blanking on what dorm she lives in. I don't know how to get her out of here!"

  "Don't worry about it. I'll get her home safe."

  Sydney sags into me, and shit. She is so fucking out of it. Her head droops against my chest and her eyes flutter shut.

  Mariana's eyes, on the other hand, are narrowed in suspicion.

  I take a step forward, leading Sydney away from the party, but the teeny brunette blocks my path.

  "Now wait just one minute, mister." She wags a finger back and forth. "I don't know about that. I've never met you before, and I don't think I should let a stranger just whisk her off in the middle of the night!"

  "I like that you're watching out for her. You're a good friend," I say before a light laugh escapes me. "But I swear to God Sydney and I know one another. In fact, we're pretty damn close. You can trust me."

  She crosses her arms over her chest. "Prove it!"

  "Okay."

  I dig into my pocket, fish out my phone, and show her a pic of the two of us playing soccer together.

  Then I show her a few goofy selfies.

  And then an intimate one of us kissing.

  No way she can argue with that.

  "Good enough for you?" I ask.

  "I surrender. The evidence is indisputable." A hurt look crosses her face. "But why has she never told me about you? We're friends...best friends."

  I'm about to explain our complicated situation when her eyes go wide.

  "Oh. Ooooh! Holy moly. It's you. The secret guy. You're the one Sydney's head over heels for!"

  "She said that?"

  Mariana bobs her head up and down repeatedly. "It was more than implied."

  "Yeah?" A massive grin spreads across my face. "Sweet."

  "Lovebirds." She giggles before addressing the girl in my arms. "Text me when you get home, okay? I want to make sure you're safe and sound. Sydney?"

  Syd mumbles something incoherent about grape jelly.

  Mariana diverts the instruction to me. "Make sure she texts me!"

  "You got it."

  I lead Sydney across the yard, a discreet hand on her lower back for guidance. She's stumbling all over the place, her sense of balance completely obliterated by the alcohol flowing through her system.

  The third time I save her from face-planting straight into the grass, I realize this whole walking thing isn't gonna work out.

  "Here, Drunk Girl." I crouch down in front of her. "Get on my back."

  With legs wrapped tight around my waist and arms looped across my neck, she molds her body to mine.

  "Better?" I ask as I hoist her up a li
ttle higher.

  She nods and rests her chin on my shoulder, tiny wisps of her hair tickling my cheek.

  "Mhmmm," she hums. "You feel so warm. Like a fireplace. Or an inferno. Nooo...like the pits of hell."

  "Uh, thanks?" I laugh and unlatch the front gate. "Not sure if that's a compliment or not."

  "It is," she insists with a heavy slur. "The pits of hell are hot, therefore, you are hot. See? Compliment. Now go faster, would you? Giddy-up!"

  Without warning, she digs her feet into my ribcage and tightens her arms around my throat.

  This does not make me go faster.

  "Whoa. Shit." I groan as I pry off her ironclad grip. "Let's refrain from giving the horse—aka me—internal bleeding or choking him to death, please."

  She emits a concerned gasp. "Did I hurt you? I'm sorry."

  "You're good." I shake my head in amusement. "You are so damn wasted."

  "I am?"

  "You are."

  "Ughhh." She buries her face in the nook of my neck. "Embarrassing."

  "Embarrassing? Nah. Fucking adorable is more like it." I gently squeeze the back of her thighs as we cross the street onto campus. "Act a fool all you want. I seriously doubt you'll remember any of this in the morning."

  Five minutes later, we arrive at her freshman dormitory. Besides a few guys pointing at Syd and shouting "Man down!", the ride to the 5th floor is uneventful.

  After getting the key from her pocket, I nudge the door open with my foot and we enter the room. I flip on the bedside lamp, a warm yellow glow enveloping the space.

  "Home sweet home." I twist my head to meet her glassy gaze. "You ready to go to bed?"

  "No," she mumbles, her drowsy voice cute as fuck. "I wanna stay up here. All night."

  "You wanna sleep on my back?" I grin as she holds me tight. "That's cool, but I gotta sleep, too, babe, and..."

  My words trail off when suddenly she presses her mouth to my flesh. Supple lips nibble at my neck, a zing of electricity shooting down my spine at her touch.

  "Sydney. Damn." I squeeze my eyes shut, trying like hell to not get turned on. She starts to rub her hands up and down my pecs, my self-control growing weaker by the moment. "We can't."

  "Why not?" She moans against my skin, the vibration too much for me. The boner I was attempting to talk down comes on full-force.