Fraternize

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Me: It’s one of his finer attributes.

  Miller: Tell me about it . . .

  Me: Yes.

  Miller: Yes???? Did you just say yes to my offer of friendship? Should I make bracelets?

  Me: No need. I still have our necklaces.

  Miller: Tell anyone we had friendship necklaces, and I’ll deny it till I die.

  Me: Your half was pink!

  Miller: I hate you.

  Me: And when we put them together, they made a heart!

  Miller: I’m deleting all of these texts, just so you know.

  Me: Remember our handshake?

  Miller: It had snaps.

  Me: Your favorite part!

  Miller: I take back the friendship offer.

  Me: No you don’t. You know you’re laughing right now and trying to get the stupid handshake out of your mind.

  Miller: Damn it.

  Me: If you remember it tomorrow AND do it, I’ll bake you cookies.

  Miller: You’re on.

  Me: I missed you.

  Miller: That’s in the past.

  Me: Deal.

  Miller: And Em?

  Me: Yeah?

  Miller: I’m pretty sure, I missed you more . . .

  Chapter Twenty-One

  MILLER

  I gripped the necklace in my fist and walked toward the locker rooms. I knew Sanchez was already there. His car was in the parking lot right along with Em’s.

  After last night, I didn’t know what to think. But I did know that I couldn’t go on like this, constantly lusting after her, breaking rules of friendship and every other guy code out there just because I was still in love with her.

  And that was the part that killed me.

  It twisted inside my chest until I wanted to scream.

  She never left me.

  I believed her.

  Which meant, had I just tried harder, had I not let my grief and anger overtake common sense, we would have been more than friends.

  More than these strangers who used to hang out on the weekends and binge watch movies until four a.m.

  We used to fall asleep under the stars; she’d shiver in my arms and promise me we’d be friends forever. It was where our friendship necklaces came in. I’d bought them as a joke.

  But the minute I clasped the chain around her neck, she’d burst into tears and thrown her arms around me, squeezing my body so tight it hurt to breathe. I knew in that moment that our friendship wasn’t normal. The bond we felt for each other was extraordinary.

  I’d sworn to never take it off.

  And besides for games, I didn’t.

  The night she left me, I’d thrown it in my dresser and yelled.

  But I’d never had the heart to throw it away.

  A few strides later, I was in the noisy locker room, the smell of equipment and Icy Hot filling my nostrils as I made my way down the hall.

  Sanchez had his helmet in his right hand and was leaning against the wall, talking to Emerson, but not touching her.

  Touching would definitely get him a talking-to by Coach.

  I’d already started to notice the practices getting more intense, and the last thing any of us needed was a distraction. I’d expected the coaching staff to say something about us partying with the cheerleaders, but they really had turned a blind eye.

  I guess that was what happened when you earned two championship rings in the past three years.

  You got away with all kinds of shit as long as you won.

  “My man!” Sanchez nodded toward me. “Did my girl tell you she pleasures herself in the shower?”

  Emerson’s face flushed bright red. “You ass! I do not!” She smacked him in the chest.

  Sanchez’s laugh was infectious. “Then why else were you in there last night for over a half hour? Damn woman. Wouldn’t even let me join you.”

  I tried to keep my smile in place.

  I’d been texting her.

  Shit, I needed to stop.

  But even as my brain logically explained in vivid detail all the reasons it was a bad idea to stay friends with her, to keep my distance, my heart freaking jumped for joy when I saw her.

  Damn it.

  “Seems like you still ended the night on a good note, Sanchez.” I fought like hell to keep smiling. “You did end up with the girl, no?”

  “This is why I keep you around. You’re smart.” Sanchez winked at Em and gave me a nod of approval.

  “Sanchez!” Coach yelled. “Get your ass over here. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

  “This would be three times, Coach.” Sanchez grinned. “Not that I was counting.”

  “Now!”

  “Movie night.” He stole a kiss from her lips—my lips—and then glanced over his shoulder. “You should come too. It may help keep my manhood intact since I’m letting her pick.”

  It wasn’t my place to tell him she hated romantic comedies and favored action, so I simply shrugged and said, “Yeah, maybe.”

  His back was to me and Em while he chatted with Coach.

  Em’s blue eyes snapped to mine.

  They were bright.

  But a bit bloodshot.

  She’d been crying last night.

  I’d bet money on it.

  “You gonna make it?” I whispered.

  Her eyes widened briefly before she blinked and nodded, unfolding her arms and letting them hang at her sides. “Yup.”

  “Good.” We locked eyes, and then I was reaching for her hand. I took a step toward her, grabbed that hand and hid it behind her back, then placed my necklace against her palm. “I think you owe me cookies.”

  “You really kept it.” Our hands pressed against each other so intensely that I felt the imprint of the heart on my palm—the sting of the edges of the metal digging into my skin.

  Just like that, and things shifted back into a place I never imagined when I got traded.

  Her breathing went from calm to ragged as she backed up against her hand until her ass was touching her hand, and her other hand was touching my thigh. If anyone was watching, it would look like we were simply having a conversation.

  But my body was on fire.

  “I guess I do.”

  “I like chocolate chip,” I whispered.

  “I remember.” She sighed.

  I released her hand. “Have a good practice.” I felt the loss so violently that I had to flex and reflex my fingers.

  Her eyes searched mine. “Friends, right?”

  “Friends,” I lied.

  She knew it.

  I knew it.

  “Yo, Miller!” Sanchez called for me. I was already a safe distance from his girl, but it didn’t matter if I was a foot away from her or five hundred miles. I felt her.

  And maybe that was the problem.

  I would always feel her.

  Even when I’d thought she’d rejected me, I’d felt her every breath, every heartbeat, and let it fuel the hate I had for her.

  But now? Now she was so close and still not mine.

  “Whatever that expression means.” Sanchez glared. “Leave it on the field, got me?”

  “Always,” I barked, shoving on my helmet and running after him.

  I never knew that I’d become the type of man who wouldn’t just lie to my best friend, but also to my teammates, and worse of all, to myself.

  Lust was an ugly, terrible, unbeatable thing.

  And I was drowning in it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  EMERSON

  I was a nervous wreck.

  On top of feeling guilty about texting Miller yesterday and my heart warring with my mind over the fact that I was kissing Sanchez, we had a weigh-in.

  The manual said that every weigh-in would be a surprise.

  Thank goodness last night I hadn’t eaten anything; that was part of the eating plan for the Bucks Girls.

  “You’re making me nervous. Stop twitching,” Kinsey said behind me. “It’s going to be fine. The worst that can happen is you ga
in a few pounds, you get a warning, and they make you lose it before the next game, which just means a lot of protein shakes and dehydration. You aren’t going to get kicked off.”

  “Wow, only? That sounds awesome!” I said with fake enthusiasm. I knew the drill. And dehydration was basically the only way for a woman to lose weight that fast without starving herself. It would be a week and a half of broccoli and chicken with no salt, and small amounts of water.

  After the last failed tryout, I swore to myself I wouldn’t do that to my body again.

  But now, the temptation was there, to be that girl who freaked out over every single morsel of food that passed her lips.

  “Seriously,” Kinsey hissed. “If you don’t stop bouncing around, I’m going to lose my mind! I had beer last night!”

  “You’re like a size half-zero!”

  “That’s a total exaggeration, and you know it. I’m a six.”

  “I’m literally more than double that, so, sorry for being a bit freaked out!” I said through clenched teeth.

  “You’re strong,” Kinsey pointed out. “You have muscle, you have curves, and you look gorgeous, alright? I would kill to have your ass and hips!”

  My shoulders sagged.

  “Stand straight.” She kicked me in the ass.

  “Hey!”

  Coach Kay eyed her clipboard. “Emerson Rodner.”

  I felt sick to my stomach as I slowly walked to the sidelines where the coaches had two scales. Actual scales for us to stand on. We went two at a time, which just made it that much worse. I was going to weigh in at around a hundred and ninety pounds, and the chick next to me was going to be like half my size plus an apple.

  I cringed as I stepped up on the scale and waited for my coach to shake her head, or at least for someone to make a snide comment about how the scale creaked under my pressure.

  “Thank you.” Coach Kay flashed me a smile and called out the next name.

  That was it?

  I’d freaked out for nothing?

  “Emerson,” Coach called my name, “a minute?”

  I stopped walking, nearly puked out my cereal on the grass, and waited.

  “Turn around,” she said softly.

  I met Kinsey’s panicked look as she stepped forward and onto the scale, only to have the coach record her weight and motion for her to come over too.

  Oh great, now I was getting her in trouble.

  “Emerson.” Coach let out a frustrated sigh. “You haven’t gained weight, but the look on your face tells me you were worried you had. Can you tell me why?”

  Shit. I didn’t want to exactly tell her it was because the guy I was seeing forced me to eat chocolate or that the other guy—you know, the one that I wasn’t seeing but texting at night—made me eat McDonald’s. I opened my mouth and shut it.

  “It’s that time of the month,” Kinsey said smoothly. “You know how we tend to bloat and I, uh, may have given her chocolate, so she didn’t kill anyone at practice today.”

  “Okay.” Coach eyed the two of us. “I want you girls to be healthy, but you do need to abide by the rules, eating at least six small healthy meals and drinking at least a gallon of water a day, got it?”

  “Yes,” we said in unison.

  “Good.” Coach gave me one last look before nodding to Kinsey. “You gained a few pounds, but it looks good on you.”

  She walked off.

  Kinsey’s jaw nearly came unhinged. “Did she just say I gained a few pounds?”

  “You forget that she also said they looked good on you.”

  Kinsey glanced behind her then did a little circle.

  “Whoa, what are you doing?”

  It seriously looked like she was a dog chasing her tail. “Trying to see if I finally have an ass!”

  I burst out laughing then covered my face as a few girls gave us nasty glares. “You almost have an ass, Kinsey.”

  “Yes!” She jumped up and down and then stuck her tongue out at one of our teammates who rolled her eyes at us.

  “Don’t take it personally,” I whispered. “I saw her staring at a cookie the other day before throwing it in the trash.”

  “No!” Kinsey stomped her foot. “How wasteful! You think it’s still there?”

  “You’re not digging through the trash can.”

  “Not now I’m not, but I could. Later. After practice. I like hanging out with you, you know.” Her voice softened. “I’d rather have an ass than throw away junk food. Last year I was too worried about what people would think. None of the girls would go to the guys’ parties with us, then the new girls finally warmed up, until Lily and a few of the others got their talons in them and now they’re just as grumpy and boring as everyone else.”

  I wrapped my arm around her. “Good thing you have me.”

  “Yup.” She grinned. “Good thing.”

  “Death by . . .” Coach yelled. “Push-ups. GO!”

  We groaned and dropped to the ground.

  The victory was short-lived, but the good news was that I had been so preoccupied with the weigh-in and then enough push-ups to kill a person that I wasn’t focused on Miller or the fact that I felt like I was emotionally cheating on Sanchez, even though we hadn’t slept together or even said we were together.

  Imagine that. Push-ups and weigh-ins were the only way to distract me from my daytime television life.

  “Hit the showers!” Coach yelled. “And we’re cancelling practice tonight. Good job, ladies. Remember, you only have one full week before the first game against the Pilots!”

  Miller’s old team.

  My body ached as I followed Kinsey into the locker room and started stripping; normally I hated showering in front of the other girls, but today I was too sweaty to care.

  All talking stopped the minute I dropped my clothes to the ground.

  Awareness prickled down my spine as I slowly turned to see girls whispering and pointing.

  Kinsey growled in their direction then nodded to me. “Own it. Not everyone can have hips like that. Besides, you have Sanchez. They’re just pissed because nobody’s been able to land him since Jacki.”

  Jacki? Was that the woman he’d been talking about the night before?

  When Miller caught us kissing.

  I gulped. If they only knew about Miller too.

  “And don’t forget the way Miller looks at you,” she added.

  I froze.

  “It’s okay.” She winked. “It’s our little secret. Though you have to tell me what the hell kind of perfume you have that attracts not one, but two men of that caliber.”

  “And have your brother come after me and bury my body?” I tried to lighten the mood as I grabbed my towel and went into the shower. Kinsey and her skinny ass followed me.

  “Hah!” She turned both of our showers on while I hung up my towel. “Jax can’t do shit, and he knows it. He’s so focused on me not sleeping with anyone that he hasn’t dated in years.”

  “Maybe we should set him up.”

  “Nobody will have him, trust me.” She laughed and tossed her head back. “He pretends to be boring on purpose, especially with what he likes to call airheads . . . and then he leaves them with the check if they ask to come back to his place. His last date asked how much he made.”

  “That’s horrible!”

  “He’s rich, which means he attracts the crazies.”

  “Hmm.”

  We finished showering in silence and walked out of the locker room only to find our bags gone.

  Both of them.

  “Oh no!” I gasped, nearly dropping my towel. The necklace was in my bag; it was more about that than my clothes.

  “Those bitches!” Kinsey screamed. “Are we seriously in middle school right now?”

  “What do we do? Drive home in our towels?”

  “No,” Kinsey growled. “We have to march over to the guys’ locker room and find them.”

  My eyes widened. “What makes you think they put them in there?”

&n
bsp; “Because two years ago I started the tradition of hazing the new girls and making them do the walk of shame to the guys’ locker rooms. But don’t worry. They’re still practicing. It was more about them following leadership.”

  “Great, Kinsey,” I said through clenched teeth. “And now the tables have turned.”

  “To be fair, you are a rookie.”

  “You’re the captain.”

  She looked ready to fight someone. “And this captain’s going to kick ass tomorrow morning, but for now, we need to grab our shit before the guys do.”

  “Deal.”

  Male voices sounded down the hall.

  We shared looks of horror before running down the connecting hallway and across the room to the men’s locker room.

  And both of us tripped to a stop when Jax stood in front of us, a look of pure fury on his sexy face. “Kinsey,” he snapped. “Emerson.”

  “We, uh . . .” I gulped. “The girls hid our bags.”

  “Then I suggest you grab them before the rest of the team barges in on you!” He opened the locker room door and shoved us inside.

  I slid across the floor, nearly banging my body against one of the benches as my eyes searched for my blue bag and Kinsey’s green one.

  “Got mine!” Kinsey shouted from somewhere in the locker room.

  “Looking for something?” Sanchez’s deep voice caused a shiver to run down my spine.

  “Classic, Emerson,” Miller joined in.

  I let out a groan of frustration and slowly turned to face them, each holding a strap of my bag, stupid grins on their gorgeous faces.

  “It was a prank,” I said defensively. “Now give me the bag.”

  They jerked it back. “I don’t know, Sanchez.” Miller shrugged. “I mean what are we going to get in return?”

  “Gratitude?” I offered in a pleading voice as more male voices started sounding through the hall. I was running out of time, and I did not want the rest of the team to see me in only a towel!

  “No.” Sanchez licked his lips. “But Miller mentioned something about . . . What was it, Miller?”

  “Cookies.”

  “Yes, cookies.” Sanchez snapped his fingers.

  “Moist,” Miller said, knowing that I hated the word almost as much as I hated the scale. “Moist . . .” He just had to repeat it while Sanchez tried not to crack up. “Cookies.”