I froze.
This was only supposed to be a physical thing with her. What was this talk of obsession?
She stiffened when she realized I was no longer reciprocating. But I was the one to actually break the kiss. She looked panic-stricken as I pulled away, something akin to horror etched across her face. Damn it, that wasn’t how this was supposed to end.
It shouldn’t have ever started.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, stepping back. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Wrong thing to say. You never told a woman you shouldn’t have kissed her, no matter what the circumstances were. I knew better. Why was I always fumbling everything around her?
She stared at me blankly for several seconds. Then she suddenly jerked to attention, scooping down to grab her towel off the floor and quickly wrapped it back around her.
“Yeah, um, you’re right.” She darted past me, heading toward the door, and I let her. What would have been the point in stopping her? “This was stupid. We shouldn’t have— But we said we wouldn’t hold it against each other, right?” She nodded, not waiting to hear my answer. “Right. So yeah, I’ll see you later.”
And she was gone.
I. Am. Such. An. Idiot.
For kissing her. For stopping the kiss. For making asinine comments. For ever speaking to her in the first place.
I stood there and banged my head against the wall for a few minutes. It probably wouldn’t help knock some sense into me. But all I could do was try.
14
Reese
“Wait, wait, wait, I’m confused,” Gemma said over the phone. “You made out with Cam Donovan, it was ‘jelly-leg level amazing’—your words, not mine—and you’re mad about it?”
Before I could respond, my phone beeped with an incoming call. “Hold on, Syd’s calling. I’m going to get a three-way going.”
“That’s what she said.”
“You have to stop binge watching The Office so much.”
She sighed. “I know.”
I pushed a few buttons and answered the call. “Hey, Syd. Gemma’s on the line, too.”
Again, before I could say anything, Gemma spoke up. “Okay, so here’s the sitch.”
She proceeded to explain everything I’d just told her about what happened between me and Cam the night before, with all the flare and drama I would expect from an aspiring actress. I was sitting on the edge of my hotel bed, waiting around until I had to head downstairs to catch the team shuttle over to the arena. It was the last day of the tournament, which I was grateful for. After we returned to Calhoun, we had a three day break before the next practice. Which meant I would have a three day break from Cam.
And after last night, I needed it.
“Of course, she’s mad,” Syd said, sounding outraged, after Gemma finished telling the story. “The guy clearly regrets the kiss, and he was needlessly crass about it. I would have dead-legged him. You’re a better woman than me.”
“Well, I’m mad at myself, too,” I said. “I wasn’t exactly an unwilling party. In fact, I sort of talked him into it.”
What a bright idea that had been.
Gemma cut in. “Irregardless—”
“Not a word,” Syd interrupted.
“That’s debatable. Most dictionaries recognize it.”
“It’s a double negative. It doesn’t make any sense—”
I rolled my eyes. “Hey! I didn’t call for a grammar lesson. What the hell am I supposed to do here?”
“I say forget about him.” This from Syd. “Last night sounded way too convenient for him. You were there in a bikini and you guys were alone in a stairwell. He took advantage of the circumstances, but it doesn’t mean he’s willing to work for more.”
“Who said I want him to work for more?”
“Then I don’t see a problem,” she replied. “Act like it didn’t affect you at all. Go on about your business like nothing happened. If you guys fight as often as you say, then it seems like nothing more should happen, anyway. Chalk it up to horniness in the heat of the moment.”
The problem with her reasoning was that when he and I fought, it wasn’t like normal fighting. More like sparring. Or snarky repartee. If I was being honest, I didn’t mind our little squabbles. It had more or less become our way of communicating.
After last night, though, it was also starting to feel like foreplay.
“Right,” I said, needing to convince myself of what I was saying. “Because with guys like him, you give them an inch and they’ll take a mile. I shouldn’t encourage anything because he’s a playboy, after all. And I don’t want to be one in a long line of many.”
“Exactly.”
“I disagree,” Gemma spoke up. “I don’t think you should ignore him.”
“What?” I asked, baffled. “Why?”
“You’ve got him on the line, Reese,” she explained. “You said he’s been cocky and arrogant around you since the day you met. I suggest giving him a taste of his own medicine.”
Oddly, this wasn’t sounding too ridiculous. “How so?”
“Dangle yourself out there.” She sounded much too chipper about this plan. “Show him what he walked away from. Tease him enough to drive him crazy, but never enough to satisfy him.”
“That is a terrible idea,” Syd said.
Maybe not. Driving him as crazy as he’d been driving me was appealing on many levels. I’d been solely concentrating on avoiding Cam’s type in order to protect myself from repeating past mistakes. It never occurred to me to turn the tables on him. It usually wasn’t my style but…
Gemma ignored Syd’s comment. “And if something more than kissing ever does happen, what’s the harm, really? It’s not like you have actual feelings for the guy, so it wouldn’t be a big deal if you guys got each other off a few times. From what I understand, he’s got a phenomenal reputation. If you know what I mean.”
Syd huffed. “We always know what you mean. Reese, that’s a risky road to go down.”
“Why?” I asked, needing to know.
“Well for one, the face of any girl he’s ever with ends up plastered all over the internet. Even if she was the barista at Starbucks who gave him his coffee. Are you ready to become ‘the girl seen with Cam Donovan’?”
“I’m the team trainer, so it wouldn’t really raise suspicions if we were seen together.”
“Two,” she continued. “You’d be mixing business with pleasure. This internship is important for your degree and your dad is his coach. I just don’t think it’s wise to create any unnecessary discord between you two, any of the players, or your dad.”
That was the most compelling point that had been made.
“You’re right,” I told her, grinning when I heard Gemma’s grunt of frustration. “Nothing good would come of it, anyway.”
“Except some earth-shattering orgasms,” Gemma chimed in. “That would come of it.”
“No, this is one instance where I can’t listen to my vagina.”
Gemma snorted. “When was the last time you listened to your vagina?”
“Last night, when it shamelessly humped Cam Donovan’s thigh,” I snapped.
Syd whistled. Gemma was silenced.
I stood up, gathering my things and moving toward the door. “He has an entire smorgasbord of girls ready to drop their pants for him at a moment’s notice. One make-out session with the team trainer won’t make a bit of difference to him. So, it won’t make a difference to me, either.”
I hung up.
Take that, vagina.
***
“Reese, we’re out of kinesio tape,” Gus called out as he searched through our training bag.
“There’s some more in the side pocket,” I said as I held out a contact case and solution to Jesse. “It was the right one that had a scratch, right?”
“Yeah.” He tilted his head back after replacing the contact lens, blinking a few times before smiling. “Think we’re all good. Thanks, Reese.”
I took a breath, feeling accomplished. “Welcome.”
The Miami Invitational championship game was about to start, and it had been chaos ever since the team had stepped out onto the floor. The arena was packed, and the energy from the guys was amping up more with every second. Although I knew this in no way compared to what the Thunder Dome was like on a Friday or Saturday night when we played one of our big conference schools. Especially BelV. Those games were the most insane of all.
“There’s no tape in there,” Gus said. “I’ll go grab some more out of the training room.”
I held him back with a hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s fine. I’ll get it.”
I loved Gus, but he couldn’t move as fast as he used to, and Krys needed his back taped before the game started. The guys had finished warming up and we were doing last minute taping and massaging before Dad gave them one last pep talk right before tip-off.
“Could you grab my sleeve, too, while you’re back there?”
I stopped on a dime, turning around slowly to face Cam. His expression was hard and focused—his game face—but there was an undertone of challenge to his question. As if to say, Yeah, what we did last night was stupid and we can’t do it again, but don’t think I’m going to allow you to forget about it.
“Of course,” I said politely. “I’ll be right back.”
His mouth twitched, as though he knew exactly what I was doing.
I walked at a brisk pace down the base line in front of the roaring bleachers—cheering spectators all dressed out in their finest NCU garb. The student section went particularly nuts when I scurried by, as they always did when any member of the team or staff walked by. I passed our mascot, The Baron, on the way out. It was a giant bass drum that was made to resemble thunder when played. I smacked a good luck kiss on it and raised my fist to the student fans.
They went crazy.
As soon as I entered the tunnel, I flew into a dead sprint. I was wearing my team polo and Converse today and no one was around to see me, so I didn’t really care. One of the reasons I loved basketball so much was because of this atmosphere. It was addicting, and I used to always eat it up when I played. I guess some things never changed. I understood why a lot of players never wanted to leave this scene.
I quickly grabbed Cam’s sleeve, the rest of the kinesio tape, and some extra bandages and athletic tape, just in case. My heart racing, I took off back down the tunnel, toward the court. I glanced down at my watch for a second to make sure I hadn’t already missed the tip-off—
I crash landed into something big and hard that I bounced right off of, careening toward the cement floor. A hand suddenly reached out and snagged my arm, saving me from almost cracking my skull wide open. I looked up to thank my would-be savior, and my insides deflated.
Trey Warren.
All dark hair, heavily tattooed arms, six-and-a-half feet of him.
And he didn’t look as surprised to see me as I was to see him. Geez, even this guy’s smile was scary. Had he followed me down here? No. Why would he have? I’d noticed the BelV team sitting across the court from our bench. They had lost their game yesterday and stuck around for the championship game.
“Hello again, Reese,” he said in his signature raspy voice. His gaze flicked down to the items I dropped when I’d slammed into him. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
I jerked out of his hold and bent down to pick everything up. He followed me and pretended to be a gentleman by helping. But I knew better than anyone that this guy was no gentleman.
“You know I’m supposed to be out on the court,” I said firmly. “So, if you’ll excuse me.”
He blocked my path with his gigantic body. “Come on, now. Why are you making me fight for a few seconds with you?”
I looked at him like he’d just told me he was a better basketball player than Michael Jordan. “Are you serious? Why would I give you any of my time? In case you don’t remember, we hate each other.”
He tried to look sheepish, but he couldn’t really pull it off. “That was years ago. Haven’t we both matured? You’re telling me you’ve been holding a grudge all this time?”
“You’ve never given me a reason to forgive you for being a dick to me in high school.” I shrugged. “Why stop hating you now?”
His lecherous eyes swept down my body, making me cringe inwardly. “Well, at least some parts of you have matured over the years.”
I sneered. “You’re disgusting.”
His eyes glinted with what I could only assume was malicious intent. “You didn’t used to think so. I seem to remember someone being pretty eager to stick her tongue down my throat.”
Ugh. Vomit.
“Yet you can’t recall the dozens of times I rejected you after that?” I asked. “And you might want to add this little encounter here to the list.”
He stepped forward, invading more of my space, and my back straightened. “Don’t you think you’ve played at this hard to get game long enough?”
“If you think that’s what I’ve been doing, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”
His eyes gleamed with something I couldn’t name. But it unnerved me. “You can’t resist me forever, Reese.”
“Watch me.”
“I know you still want me. There are some things even you can’t hide.”
I shoved past him, relieved when he stepped out of the way. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear. Nothing will ever happen between us again. Ever. Save yourself some time and focus your energy on someone who will actually fall for your bullshit.”
I stomped down the tunnel, simmering with anger. I’d always known he had nerve, but he’d just taken it to a whole other level.
“You’ll change your mind, Reese,” he called out. “I’ll see you soon.”
I was grateful when I finally reached the court and felt like I could breathe again. There was so much going on around me that no one would notice how visibly rattled I was. The team was gathered around the bench as my dad went over some last minute plays. Cam sat at the edge of the group, his attention catching on me as I dropped my equipment on a nearby chair. It looked like his shoulders relaxed significantly when his gaze fell on me, but that was crazy.
Then his focus shifted to something over my shoulder. He gnashed his teeth in a menacing gesture before his eyes darted back to mine, sharpening to a glare. What the hell had I done? I turned around and saw Trey walking out of the tunnel I’d just exited, strutting like a damn peacock.
He was staring right at me.
When I turned back to Cam, his accusing gaze was still centered on me. No, no, no. Did he honestly think something had happened between Trey and I? Just now, in the tunnel? His expression said yes. Yes, he did. I opened my mouth to confront him, but he shot to his feet before I could get a word out, snatching his sleeve out of my hands and turning away from me.
For a brief second, I was completely outraged. I was ready to stomp my foot and scream in his face, pissed that he would think I’d be so easy.
Then I thought, screw it.
I didn’t owe him an explanation, especially considering how he’d acted last night and how he’d been since then. I had a job to do and quite frankly, he didn’t have the right to say anything about what I did or didn’t do. Let him think what he wanted about me.
Maybe that would make my new task of ignoring him much easier to accomplish.
One could only hope.
15
Cam
There were two absolute truths in my life right now.
One, it was game day.
Two, I was losing my fucking mind.
It had been two weeks—two entire weeks—since I’d kissed Reese in that stairwell. Two weeks since we’d won the Miami Invitational. Two weeks since I’d seen Warren step out of that damn tunnel right behind her, which I still had no explanation for. Mere coincidence? The thought of what could have happened between them in that darkened hallway had driven me to playing my best game of the season
thus far and our overall victory.
With the scrambled mess my head had been in, it was any wonder why I hadn’t played like shit. I couldn’t explain it.
I swear Warren’s eyes had been on Reese every time I’d glanced up at him during the game. And every time I saw it I nailed a three-pointer, or I had a steal, or I made one hell of a drive to the basket. I just couldn’t stand the idea that he’d once had something I hadn’t been able to attain, but something I desperately wanted. Not that I was the type of asshole who saw Reese as an object to possess.
Well…possess, yes.
Object, no.
I did want her, that couldn’t be denied. But for reasons that went far beyond the fact that Warren seemed to want her, too. I actually enjoyed being around her, even though she pissed me off more often than not. She fascinated me. Not to mention the fact that my dick reacted stronger to her than it had to any other girl in my entire life.
There had been very minimal contact between us since that game. I hadn’t visited her for any therapy issues, and we’d avoided each other on the plane ride back. I’d been afraid that I would have lost my cool if I’d opened my mouth around her. So many questions I wanted answered, yet I knew it wasn’t my place to ask.
And if there was one day that I really needed to shove all of this to the back burner, it was today.
Game day.
Our first conference home game. An undefeated record. A sold out arena, packed wall-to-wall with screaming, jumping Thunderbolts—the name of our student section. The resounding boom of The Baron as we took the court. The shouting of our names from devoted fans.
There really was nothing sweeter.
This was where I thrived. What I lived for.
I ruled this world with a vengeance.
I walked down our team tunnel in my sweatpants, street shoes, and zip-up sweatshirt with the hood up. We normally had to dress in blazer and tie for home games, but Coach would let us slide on it every now and then. My headphones blasted my warm-up music in my ears as I entered the locker room. I’d switch from Avenged Sevenfold to Eminem. From Godsmack to Metallica. In preparation for games, I needed hard hitting and angry. That’s what got me fueled up and ready to go.
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