by Ruby Forrest
Mark shook his head. “No, I don’t want water.” He shook his head again and crossed his arms. “What are you going to do? Tell everyone that Brandon raped you? Or are you waiting until it’s been a day or two before you make the big announcement?”
“What?” I looked at Mark like he was crazy. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought that was a habit of yours,” Mark said, his voice pointed. “You know, you lure the guy in, sleep with him, then tell everyone he took advantage of you later on. No? Well, maybe that was just something extra special you did for me, then.”
Ashlyn looked around as she tried to diffuse the situation. All the busybodies were pretending to mind their own business, but Ashlyn could see Brandon looking right at her. Mark’s voice was loud enough to carry across the room, and Mark certainly wasn’t trying to have a private conversation or keep Ashlyn’s most embarrassing moments a secret either.
“Mark, you know that’s not what happened. Do you want to talk about it?” Ashlyn reached for Mark’s arm, but Mark jerked away.
“If you have something to say, then you can say it right here,” Mark demanded.
“I thought you were my friend. That’s what I have to say.” Ashlyn felt embarrasses. She couldn’t believe that Mark was trying to hurt her. “It’s like every day, you prove more and more why I think the way I do. If you were truly my friend, you wouldn’t do this to me.”
“Funny,” Mark said without laughing, “I said the same thing to myself when you started throwing around your accusations.”
Ashlyn could feel the tears building up in her eyes. “But that was different,” she tried to reason. Mark was only shaking his head.
“Sure, it was different. Because it was you. When you do something, then it’s always the right decision. But if someone else makes that same decision, then it’s wrong. Just learn to grow up, Ashlyn, and recognize yourself for who you really are.”
“Oh yeah,” Ashlyn challenged. “Who am I really then?”
Mark shook his head. “You don’t want me to tell you. I just want you to think about everything I did for you and the friendship we had then the way you decided to destroy it when it didn’t suit you anymore.”
Ashlyn felt like his accusations were unfair, and she wasn’t going to stand there and take them anymore. She turned on her heel and pushed her way past the few people in the kitchen. She had to get out of there, and the broken glass door was right in front of her. She crunched through the broken glass and out into the fresh air.
It was late, and the beach was dark. It didn’t matter to Ashlyn. She finally was far enough away from Mark’s voice that she could think.
Chapter Eight
Only a small strip of sand was visible next to the ocean, which stretched wider than it had been that morning. Ashlyn began walking along the edge of the beach. With the moon covered, though, she couldn’t see well. She finally found a place along the edge, and she sat down, ignoring the feeling of her shorts dampening from the sand.
“Why did Mark even know what happened? Katy said she didn’t tell him, but she probably told another big mouth who told him.” Ashlyn gave a growl, like an animal that didn’t know how to deal with the challenge presented it.
“It’s like everyone on this set is out to ruin me.” Ashlyn considered her sentence for a few minutes and recanted it. That wasn’t true. Pamela was her friend, at least. Most of the others were neutral toward her. Maybe everyone wasn’t trying to ruin her. Maybe it was just Mark.
Ashlyn waited and waited. Part of her hoped that Brandon would come after her. She wanted him to comfort her and ask her what had gone wrong. But the longer she waited, the more tired she felt. It was time to stop waiting. She wanted Brandon, and she was willing to make a sacrifice to be with him. The least she could do would be to start the conversation and see if he would carry it on.
Ashlyn walked back to the beach house and found Brandon sitting on the back porch. She smiled when she saw his form, and she knew it was him even though the light didn’t show him well.
“I was hoping you hadn’t been carried away by the ocean,” Brandon said.
“I’m here,” Ashlyn announced, “alive.”
“That’s the first step to a happy life you know,” Brandon replied. He stood up and offered the seat to Ashlyn. She refused it, not wanting to sit while he stood. They finally ended up sitting on the edge of the tall deck.
“The storm did a lot of damage,” Brandon said, pointing out a fence that went floating by.
“It’s not nearly as bad as some storms that I’ve seen on the news.”
“Did you see the roof? Whoever is sleeping on the top floor has their bed filled with water.”
Ashlyn smiled. This talk was diverting her from her mission. She needed to explain what Brandon had heard. “Let me tell you about Mark,” Ashlyn said.
“Yeah, he sounds like a fun one to have around,” Brandon replied.
Ashlyn nodded and swallowed. She looked at Brandon out of the side of her eyes. What was she being shy about? She had just made love to this man this afternoon! Ashlyn picked up Brandon’s hand and placed it in her lap, playing with his fingers.
“The thing is that back when we were staying in the mountains, Mark and I kind of became friends. I actually, well, I trusted him. He seemed really considerate and gentlemanly, the opposite of everything that he seems now. And, we had this party. I got super drunk at the party. I have never gotten that drunk before, and something happened. I have a pretty good guess what. The thing that was never clear between us was whether or not I consented to what happened.” Ashlyn bit her lower lip, feeling those pesky tears rising again.
“So, after that, it made things pretty awkward between us. Because I only saw him as a friend. I never thought him super attractive or anything. I know that people do stupid things when they’re drunk, but I just don’t think I would have agreed to having Mark and me, well. . .do anything serious.”
“So now, Mark doesn’t get why you have moved on when he clearly hasn’t,” Brandon summarized.
“Yup, and apparently, Katy has a big mouth. Why else would he have decided at that moment to attack me?”
“We all make stupid decisions,” Brandon summarized. “Look, I wasn’t there. I didn’t see you two before that happened, but let me just tell you this. Don’t blame him or make him into the bad guy just to make yourself better. Take responsibility as well.”
Ashlyn hadn’t expected Brandon to stick up for Mark. Then she realized that Brandon wasn’t sticking up for Mark so much as teaching Ashlyn how to deal with life. Ashlyn nodded and kept quiet. She didn’t know how to transition from. “Sorry about my crazy ex-boyfriend” to “I want to stay with you.”
Brandon made the transition for her. “When are you leaving?”
“Are you ready for me to go already?” Ashlyn teased. “You sleep with me, and then you’re done?”
Brandon smiled and shook his head. “Oh, I am not done with you, baby.”
Ashlyn leaned forward, and the two shared a quick kiss. She realized that now was the time to explain. “Brandon, I think that I’m going to stay behind when my crew goes. I want to stay with you.”
Brandon was silent. He squeezed Ashlyn’s hand gently and waited for her to look at him.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
Ashlyn nodded. “I love filming, and I will find some way to do it here. I haven’t figured it out exactly, but I know there will be a way. But I just realized, before today even, that what we have together is unique. I can’t just come across a guy like you everywhere I go, even though I have searched, diligently.”
Brandon leaned forward and gave Ashlyn a long kiss. They kissed and kissed. Ashlyn was contented to let the desire build up in her as she tasted his lips again and again. “I’m so glad that you said something,” Brandon finally spoke as he stared off at the angry ocean. “I didn’t want to say anything. I thought that
if I said something you might feel obligated to stay just for me, even if you didn’t want to. I mean, we can do long distance.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Ashlyn smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “No, I’m not doing long distance. I want to be with you and enjoy every day of your crazy life. I don’t have a lot of money saved up, but I’ll find something to do around here, at least while you’re here.”
“Ashlyn,” Brandon was shaking his head, and Ashlyn wasn’t sure if he was refusing her or what. “You are one crazy woman. Imagine, if you hadn’t hurried out into the sea to save a man you thought was drowning, we might never have met.”
“I’d rather not imagine that,” Ashlyn responded. “I prefer to imagine the future, with us together.”
“With us together,” Brandon echoed. He smiled at Ashlyn and lifted one of his eyebrows. “I’m imagining what it will be like to take you back to my place when you’re finally done filming here.”
Ashlyn giggled and kissed Brandon again. This was what Ashlyn had always wanted for her future, the carefree, open love that she had with Brandon.
THE END
A Secret Baby Sports Romance
Chapter 1
Keith Roger smiled as he watched his parents interact over dinner.
At twenty-five, Keith Roger, NBA star knew that he didn’t have the most typical upbringing what with all the back forth between two continents. His mother was a typical English woman, pale, blonde and very proper. His dad was an American with coffee black skin, an easy going smile and a very loud and rambunctious personality.
It’s not like they still lived in a time where it was illegal for interracial marriages to happen, but it still shocked both sets of parents when Bridget and Roger fell in love and got married.
Keith had always admired his parents and the way their relationship just seemed so effortless, but he often wondered why he was nothing like them.
He had inherited his father’s dark skin and his mother’s hazel eyes, but beyond that he got nothing else. Not their old fashioned romantic notions on love, nor their love for the ordinary. Keith knew from a young age then he didn’t want a quiet life raising a family. He wanted to be front and center, he wanted the glory and the fame that came with being in the spotlight. He wanted girls to scream his name, and he didn’t want to stick to just one woman.
While his father tried to teach him about romance, Keith was too busy trying to figure out how to make it big. He knew that he had a tough time ahead of him because of his skin color, because although black people had come a long way in the States, he knew they still had a long way to go.
White privilege was still very much alive.
Growing up with two different cultures as his environment meant that Keith had a talent that very few people possessed. He had the charm of the English, and the tenacity of the Americans, paired with his winning smile, and his confidence, he knew that if he played his cards just right, he’d make it big.
And he was right.
He managed to graduate top of his class with a degree in the media arts, but he soon began pursuing a different passion, something he had a knack for since he got his first basketball at the age of five.
The second he opened the present and held the ball in his hand, he understood why Michael Jordan wanted to get where he was, and from that point on, he did everything he could to make sure he got there too.
When he graduated from college, he moved to the States full time to pursue a career in basketball. At first, he worked odd jobs here and there. Three days a week he did some free-lance work for a marketing firm, and the rest of the week, he trained with a coach who let him play in a small scale basketball team. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Two years later, a talent scout happened to be walking by when he spotted Keith play, and the rest fell into place. His parents had just flown out to celebrate, and they took him out to dinner at a nice restaurant. They began prepping him with questions about the sport, his team mates, particularly Blake Hamilton and Mark Hummel. They were legends in the NBA, and even though he played alongside them in some of the games, they only knew him from afar, so he hardly ever interacted with them.
But he knew all about their lifestyles, they were considered royalty on and off the court. Women flocked to their side; or at least they used to until they both discovered that they were fathers.
Keith inwardly snorted at their bad luck, knowing that he’d never make that mistake. He knew that he wanted to be at the top of the food chain in the team, and once he got there, no one would take that away from him.
Not a woman nor a child.
He knew that having one or the other or both would be distracting and would make him unable to stay ahead of the game, so he avoided it as much as he could.
He half listened to his parents chatter on about how proud they were, and how they were thinking about moving to the states, so they could be close to him.
“Wait, what?” Keith had only been half listening, so he wasn’t sure he’d heard them right.
“Move back here?” He repeatedly looked from his father’s shy smile to his mother’s beaming face.
“Well, honey, why not? Your father and I have lived in Britain for quite some time now, and I know your father misses America, so I figured we could move back here for a while.”
Keith loved his parents, he did, but he was twenty-five, and just getting started on his big plans to live large, so he didn’t want to have to worry about disappointing his parents.
“Don’t worry, son. We’re still talking about it, we wouldn’t want to ‘cramp your style’ or whatever the kids call it these days.”
Keith was surprised to find himself chuckling. “Okay, Dad.”
Cramp my style he thought to himself with an amused grin, he shook his head as his parents continued to tell him a story about his grandparents.
He absent-mindedly scratched his back, wondering how long the tattoo would itch. The tattoo artist had said that it was normal for it to feel itchy and uncomfortable for the first few days, but that after a week of using cream, he wouldn’t be able to feel a thing.
He had gotten two tattoos, one on his shoulder of a Game of Thrones quote ‘Valar Morghulis’, and the other on his back that was a picture of Rocky Balboa.
He hadn’t been quite sure of the second one, but his team mates had assured him that women not only loved tattoos, but that they loved manly tattoos, what could be more manly than a boxer?
He took a bite out of his dessert, and absent mindedly watched a petite waitress with short black hair and a nose piercing clear the table next to them.
She was bent over the table as she cleared away the dishes, and Keith found himself fantasizing about a different kind of bending.
He shifted uncomfortably as he felt himself begin to grow aroused. He hated that his parents were sitting right across the table from him because he didn’t feel comfortable doing his own thing with them around, but he’d figure out a way around that.
He continued to watch the waitress out of the corner of his eye, and once she caught him staring, she smirked at him and gave her hips an extra shake.
One eyebrow went up in surprise as she gave him a saucy wink before sauntering off, knowing full well that he was staring at her backside and wondering how to get her over.
Keith made a comment at something his parents said as he continued to think of the black haired mix who just walked off.
He noticed that she emerged a while later, and she made eye contact with him as she gave him a small seductive smile. He signaled her over, and as he watched her strut to the table, he wondered how he could make his move with his parents sitting across the table.
Just as she was approaching the table, she tripped and fell and landed directly at his feet. The water she was carrying spilled all over the front of his pants, and he gazed at his parents in dismay wondering what had just happened. He glanced down fully intending t
o help her up before he noticed that she was gesturing for him to be quiet.
“I’m so sorry, Sir,” she began as she picked up a napkin and began to rub his legs.
He opened his mouth to say something before he noticed that she had spilled some water on the front of her shirt as well, and now it stuck to her body in a way that accentuated her breasts. His parents both got up and mumbled about finding him a spare shirt from a shop nearby, and they exited the restaurant.
Aware that some of the staff was staring at them, Keith tried not to make it too obvious that he was turned on and staring at her.
She leaned over, so he could get a peek at her lacy black bra, and Keith gulped as he felt himself growing more and more turned on.
The waitress continued to tut and apologize as she attempted to make sure he was ‘dry’.
She knew exactly what she was doing and soon Keith was so aroused he was sure everyone in the restaurant would be able to see.
The waitress ran his fingers lightly over it as she smirked. “I think I’d better take you out back and find you a spare pair of pants, Sir. I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold on my account.”
“Yes,” his voice came out sounding hoarse. “Yes, quite right. I’ll also need to speak with your manager about your behavior.”
The waitress’s eyes widened in mock fear. “Please, Sir. Don’t get me fired. I’ll do anything.” She emphasized the last word by licking her lips.
Keith tried to look nonchalant as he stood up and glowered at her. She gestured for him to follow her, and she kept her head down as she led him to the back.
“We’re very sorry, Sir.” The rest of the staff hurried to apologize as he moved past them. He waved their apology away with a tight smile, feeling bad about the deception momentarily, before realizing that they had all probably done something similar.
The waitress led him to the back and through a set of double doors that led to what looked like the employee staff room.