Dolce (Love at Center Court #2)

by Rachel Blaufeld

  I wanted to wait and see her out, but she’d looked like seven shades of green when I suggested it. Having been raised by a single mom, I knew not to push it.

  So I ran back to my truck, ratcheted up the heat, and headed back to what I was sure would be a rager at my apartment. When I scrolled through Twitter while I waited at a red light, my suspicions were confirmed.

  @HaftonBabe:

  Where is @BallerSteele? I’m waiting for him at his place. #nolongercelibate #GoHaftonGreen

  Catie

  I didn’t know why I agreed to meet Blane, other than I was a sadist. Or was I a masochist? I didn’t know which was which, but I clearly liked to inflict pain on myself.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Blane as I got dressed. I even straightened up my bathroom before tossing everything Ariel-related into a drawer, out of sight.

  Not that I was planning on bringing Blane back here, but he couldn’t know about this. Ever.

  I wasn’t ashamed. In fact, I was scared by how much I felt in control over the situation. The money aside, I was making my own rules. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t in anyone’s shadow, and I was standing tall in my choice. It wasn’t at all what I thought would come of the experience. Originally, I wanted to understand why women started in the industry, and why they stayed.

  Now I got it. What else would they do?

  Catching a glance at myself in the mirror, I smiled. I was still the same short, curvy woman, but there was something different. I felt more desirable, but not because of the sexy videos. No, those left me needing a shower. It was the control. My mom wasn’t there telling me how stupid I was, and my dad wasn’t comforting me with food. My sisters weren’t judging, and Stanwick wasn’t chastising me.

  My phone pinged just as I was heading out to walk to Starbucks. Standing in the vestibule of my shabby apartment building, I plucked it out of my coat pocket and read the incoming text.

  TESS: Hey, girl! Where have you been? Would love to see you.

  CATIE: I’m here. Want to do lunch this week?

  TESS: Sure. Did you see what’s going on all over Twitter? Sonny’s in love.

  I smiled to myself. What an idiot.

  CATIE: Yep! Dumb guy. Of course he is.

  TESS: And you? Have you seen you-know-who?

  CATIE: No.

  TESS: Fine. Oh, heard from Shelby you got an ID! Want to do lunch next week at the Mexican place and have a margarita?

  Why not? I was only taking two classes since I was thrown out of my major, making me ineligible to take what I wanted this trimester. And only two classes on my schedule left me a bit of free time.

  CATIE: Sure.

  TESS: Text me on Monday.

  CATIE: OK.

  I shoved the phone back in my bulky coat pocket and pushed the door out into the cold winter air. The sky was gray and hung heavy with moisture. It would probably snow tonight, and I would be happy to snuggle at home in pajamas. Frank didn’t film on Saturdays, choosing to take his wife out instead, so it was my night off. Otherwise, I worked double-time during the week, filming as much as I could. The money was an insane motivator, the notoriety not even a close second for me.

  It was also free speech and such. I was so sick of Stanwick tossing out my ideas. These ladies did what they had to do, and no one stopped them from doing it.

  My boots crunched through the leftover snow on the sidewalk as I hustled to a hot cup of coffee and an even hotter tall drink of man. A chill ran down my spine at the thought of what I was doing. I bundled myself tighter in my scarf and picked up my pace.

  Why couldn’t I have aimed for a soccer scholarship? Instead I was thrown out of my major, kicked to the curb, and turned into an overnight porn sensation.

  “Hey! Cate.”

  I turned to see Blane getting out of his pickup.

  “I would have picked you up,” he said as he rushed over to walk in with me.

  “Not necessary. A little fresh air does me good.”

  I tried to form a friendly smile, but couldn’t help the sizzle traveling through my whole body at the sight of him. He looked good in bulky Timberlands, with a puffy coat unzipped over skinny sweats and a thermal shirt.

  “I see you’re still sporting your sweatband from last night.” I sniffed deeply as he held the door open, allowing the aroma of fresh-roasted coffee beans to give my tired head a much-needed jolt.

  “Can’t take it off now.”

  “I don’t even want to know what it smells like.”

  “Hey, I run it through the water in the shower.”

  We stepped in line, and like a missile, his hand landed on my back in a fiery explosion. I tried to scoot away, but he pulled me into the circle of his arm and whipped out his phone to snap a selfie.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sonny lifted the ban; I’m sure you already know. The whole campus is wondering where Cute Catie is, and I’m giving them proof she’s with me.”

  His fingers worked overtime on his phone before he said proudly, “Done.”

  “I don’t even want to know what you just did,” I whispered before breaking free from his hold.

  “Hey, Steele, awesome game last night,” the barista yelled.

  “Yeah, unreal,” the girl at the register said, practically swooning at the sight of him.

  “Thanks, y’all,” he said as we stepped up to the counter. “A cappuccino, fully leaded, and a bottled water.”

  I gave him the stink-eye. “You don’t have to order for me.”

  “Cut the feminist crap. You’re just an everyday woman now.”

  Little did he know.

  “I drink a skinny latte now, for your information,” I snorted back.

  “That explains your curves being smaller. I liked them better the other way.”

  He turned back to the swoony counter girl and said, “Give me two of those scones too.”

  “Stop, you’re making a scene,” I mumbled, noticing a lot of customers glancing at their phones and then looking up at us.

  “Hey, Blane, will you take a selfie with me too?” some girl ran over from the fireplace to ask.

  “Sure.” He winked at her and said “smile” as she hit the button on her phone.

  I frowned at Blane as the girl scurried off, holding her phone in the air triumphantly.

  “Glad to know you’re not putting all your eggs in one basket.”

  “Oh, I am. I most certainly am, Cate.”

  That’s exactly what I didn’t want to hear.

  We sat down in a couple of overstuffed chairs near the corner, the fire to our right and the bathrooms to our left. Too late, I realized there was no avenue of escape.

  Blane cracked his water, took a swig, and leaned close to me. With his hand on my knee, he said, “Cate, what the hell? What’s up?”

  “I needed space,” I said, giving him an overused excuse. Next I’d be giving him the old, It’s not you, it’s me.

  “Come on, you may have acted all small with Sonny, but that’s not you. What the fuck?” His hair was wet from snow, and his eyes were flecked with small slivers of gold inside the green. He wasn’t smiling, though. He looked concerned.

  If only he knew sitting with me could ruin his career.

  “It was bullshit,” I said, averting my eyes to gaze unseeing at the fireplace. “I was thrown out of my department and I had to think shit over.”

  He smirked at the swear words I let fly. “I get that, but we had this one time . . . one night, whatever you want to call it. I don’t usually do romance, but it felt great. And intimate. And then you bailed.”

  “I know, I don’t know. Ugh.” I leaned back, resting my head on the back of the chair for a moment as I closed my eyes. “There are too many mixed messages out there, and they’re driving me wild.”

  “You’re a witty, sexy woman, and I’m an interested man. There’s no mixed messages here.”

  “And then what? I give you it all, all of me, and then what? The NBA, and tall,
gorgeous women throwing themselves all over you?” I grabbed my latte and took a big gulp. My stomach tumbled with my nervousness; the lonely scones on the table weren’t even calling to me.

  “Whoa, let’s back up. Did you hear me? You’re a woman and I’m a man, and we’re both young. I can’t say shit about next year, but right now I’d like to hang out with you.”

  He took another swig of his water, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Strangely, I wanted to run my tongue along his neck.

  “Why?”

  “Come on, you can’t be that naive, Cate. You’re sweet, sassy, built like a woman should be. Any guy would be silly not to want to hang with you.”

  “Are you doing that whole swoony thing again?”

  “I’m trying it out for a while. Is it working?” This time he smiled and a small dimple appeared on his right cheek.

  I wanted to lick there too.

  “It’s sort of working,” I admitted.

  I gulped coffee and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. I’d already tainted my own reputation and stood to do worse when my research came out, and now I was considering tossing this guy’s future in the trash.

  “So, what the hell have you been doing all this time? Watching women’s basketball?”

  Nerves skated over my spine like a hockey player on steroids.

  Or a basketball player with NBA aspirations.

  I looked away, shifting a little in my chair. “Um, I’ve been up to a little of this and a little of that. Made a few new friends and got an ID, but you already know that. Experiencing life.”

  That wasn’t too much of a lie. Exactly.

  “So, can we do a little experiencing together?”

  I raised an eyebrow at his dirty suggestion.

  “Not like that. Right away. G-rated or whatever. I can take you on a picnic. Isn’t that what girls love?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been on one.”

  “Then we should do it.”

  “Blane, it’s the middle of January. When it’s warmer, maybe?” I nipped off a piece of the scone and popped it in my mouth.

  “Ha! Yeah. How about an indoor picnic? Next week? We’re traveling the beginning of the week to Ann Arbor, but when I get back?”

  I thought no, but yes came out of my mouth, and my heart sank to my boots.

  Maybe I could keep this whole project a secret until I was out of the business? I was stashing the money and planning to shift my focus to pure research soon, needing more anecdotal input to flesh out my data.

  “Good.” Blane squeezed my thigh, bringing me back to the present and making my panties wet.

  How was it that Ricky masturbated in front of me and I felt nothing, and this guy touched my leg and I was ready to go? All the way?

  “Now tell me, have you been watching my games?” he asked and then finished his water.

  I felt my smile reach my ears.

  “I knew it!” Blane slapped his hand into the small table in front of us, causing a commotion.

  “Shhh, I’ve already been delisted as a feminist. Now they’ll call me a ball baby!”

  “Let’s see what’s happening on Twitter,” he suggested, and I slapped my forehead.

  “Fuck.”

  He cracked up and swiped his finger up the screen on his phone.

  @Hafton101:

  Looky here – @BallerSteele is out with the former #CuteCatie. Are they an item? (@SonnyB_KnocknBoots) What about the ’ship?

  @SonnyB_KnocknBoots:

  Hey, #CuteCatie, come back and see me - fill me in - I have this new intern who spends his day watching porn

  @SexySarina:

  Aw, look at the cute couple #steeleandcutecatie <3

  Blane started typing away, and I peered over his shoulder.

  @BallerSteele:

  Working on it, @Hafton101 (On both the #ship and #CuteCatie)

  “Looks like they’re already talking about you.” He ran his knuckles over my cheek, and I shivered.

  “You cold?”

  I shook my head.

  “Here.” He picked off a piece of the scone and ran it along my lips. I opened willingly and let it fall on my tongue. “We could take a picture of our tattoos.” He swiped the hair off my shoulder and tugged at my sweatshirt.

  “Oh God,” I grumbled. “That seems like a lifetime ago. But it wasn’t.”

  “It definitely wasn’t, and it was fun.”

  Blane ran his nose along my cheek before backing away. Then he winked and leaned close again. I was getting dizzy from all the back and forth, or maybe just from him. Who the hell knew?

  He whispered near my ear, his warm breath stirring my hair. “Let’s do this again, Cute Cate.”

  I smiled like a fool, swallowed, and nodded.

  “I have to go; Coach wants us in for a team meeting. But I’m driving you home.”

  “Okay.”

  That’s how easily I gave in to him.

  Ball baby.

  Blane

  She wasn’t the same Cate when she first showed up on Saturday. Quiet, reserved, or whatever the fuck you call it. She wasn’t the foulmouthed sprite I knew her to be.

  But it didn’t take long for her to warm up, the pulse in her neck to start fluttering, and a few four-letter words to come out of her mouth. I had her at hello, or whatever the movie said. I think my high school girlfriend made me watch it before she put out.

  Monday morning, I arched my back in my seat on the bus and adjusted my earphones. A little old-school Guns and Roses blasted in my ears as I shut my eyes and concentrated on ball. And a little more Cate.

  I’d have to invite her personally to the game on Friday, so I could know where she’d been hiding.

  Okay, enough Cate.

  I visualized my crossover and my spin move. I actually saw it happening in slow motion against our upcoming opponent, and felt a rush of adrenaline.

  Someone tapped on my shoulder, and I turned to find Mo behind me on the bus.

  “Ready to ball out?” He slid the cans off my ears.

  “Fucking A right,” I shouted.

  “Listen, man, the baby’s due in April,” Mo said in a low voice. “I’m yours until then, but I got to have a plan. We need this ’ship.”

  “I know, my brother. I know. You’re gonna do good and make your bro proud. And me.”

  “You too, Steele.”

  We both settled back with our music until we arrived and were hustled off to a practice.

  My mom called just as I was heading to my hotel room for the night.

  “Hey, Mom,” I answered, shutting the door behind me.

  “Guess what? I got a bigger advance than I thought, and Gigi is coming to stay with the dogs so I can come up again in two weeks!”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, I blew out a long breath. Of course she was. My dad was also scheduled to come in two weeks.

  “I assume you know Dad is coming?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to stay out of his way . . . okay, baby?”

  As if.

  “Of course. Listen, I have to get some rest. Big game tomorrow night.”

  “You do that, honey.”

  We hung up, and I texted Cate on the new number she’d given me, but I didn’t hear back.

  The next morning, I woke up early and did a few rounds of pushups and sit-ups in my room. Ashton, who had come in sometime after me, was dead asleep in the other bed. I slapped his ass when I was done.

  “Come on, we got a team breakfast and a light practice.”

  “Shit, fuck,” he mumbled, but got up and walked to the bathroom with his dick in his hand.

  “Dude, you have got to stop that,” I called out, but knew he wouldn’t.

  I checked my phone after lunch and saw I had a text from Cate.

  CATE: Sorry. Was working on a project late last night. Good luck today! :)

  I didn’t respond; Coach would have my hide if my mind wasn’t on winning this game, which it was. It was a nationally tel
evised matchup, prime time on ESPN, and I was fucking ready to ball out.

  Doing my usual thing at warmup, stretching my wingspan and my hammies, I heard a lot of boos. Part of being on the road. It didn’t matter; I took possession after the tip and didn’t let my foot off the gas.

  “Push it,” Coach yelled from the sidelines, and I did.

  We put on a show, the starting five. We were up by twenty-two at the half, and hit the locker room with chants and slaps.

  Back at the new half, we all took turns getting rest on the bench. Conley rotated us like a pro, veins bulging in his neck as he screamed plays to two of the new guys rotating in and out, and then to us. I ended it with a quick pass to a newbie, Slick, and he dunked at the buzzer.

  Another one in the bucket.

  “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” I yelled in the showers after the game.

  “Dude, I need some chicken and some bird,” Alex yelled back.

  “You’re sick,” I called back.

  “No, that’s you, lover boy.”

  He was sort of right.

  Wednesday, I picked up Cate at her new place at five. She came running down the steps in jeans and a puffy coat, her hair tucked into a dark green Hafton knit cap. I smiled to myself at her repping the team.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “I could’ve come up to the door, but if you’re not ready for me to be in your place, I’m cool.” I winked as she buckled up.

  “It’s just . . . never mind. Chalk it up to excitement.”

  I wasn’t sure what it was going to take for her to come out of her repressed shell, and I certainly didn’t know why I wanted to try, but fuck it.

  “Congrats on the game,” she breathed out, her words making little puffs of smoke in the car.

  Reaching out to turn up the heat, I said, “Yeah, it felt good to give a beating that bad on the road. Speaking of which, you coming on Friday? I can get you a ticket with an actual seat.”

  “I’m not sure yet. I want to, but I have to see if I can.”