Our first away game was against the South Vermont University Vikings, and we clobbered them.
The field was a rainy mess from the time we jogged out onto it for warm-ups, our cleats and uniforms both covered completely in mud by the end of the first quarter. My knees ached from sprinting in the conditions, and my left ankle felt worse from all the sliding around than when I’d broken it in the sixth grade.
Still, the entire squad had been on fire, showcasing yet again that we were a team to contend with this season. After our bowl win last year, we had a lot of eyes on us — and now, we were two and zero, and had just defeated a team we barely scraped out a win against last year by more than twenty points.
“Um, excuse me,” Riley said, jogging up beside me after a post-game interview on the field. Her hair was soaked, dripping down over her shoulders and in her eyes as she hung her hands on her hips and glared up at me. “Do my three successful field goals not deserve a shoulder ride into the locker room?”
I grinned, reaching for her slight hips and easily helping her climb up. She saddled my shoulders, hands gripping mine as I stood before she lifted them in the air and started chanting one of our team cheers. Player after player filed in around her, joining in, and I ran her through the crowd for high-fives on our way toward the tunnel.
She laughed and squealed with every sliding step I took until I carefully placed her back on the ground once we were inside the stadium. As soon as I did, Zeke swept her up in a hug from behind.
“Nice pick out there, Johnson,” he said, and I clapped his hand when he held it up for mine.
“Next time it’ll be a touchdown. Mark my words,” I promised.
“I have no doubts.” He paused, giving Riley a look that apparently told her to get lost, because she made some excuse about needing to talk to Coach before she disappeared down the hall.
Zeke turned back to me.
“So,” he said. “How are things going with Giana?”
I smirked. “Nosy much?”
“Like you weren’t the same with me and Riley last year,” he shot back, deadpan.
“That was different. Giana and I are great. And not denying our feelings for each other like you two were.”
Something in my stomach rolled when I said those words, but I ignored it, throwing my arm around Zeke’s shoulders.
“Why are you so concerned?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, man. Giana is a nice girl. I… don’t take this the wrong way… I wanted to make sure she wasn’t just some sort of rebound.”
I cracked my neck, removing my arm from around him as Holden’s warning came back to memory. “Why is everyone assuming that’s what she is?”
“Because you were devastated over Maliyah breaking up with you like, a month ago, and now you’re making out with Giana every chance you get.”
“She’s hot. And fun to make out with. And my girlfriend,” I said. “I’m confused as to why this is such an issue for everyone to accept.”
“You’re right,” Zeke said, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have assumed. I’m glad to see you doing so well, honestly. I was worried there at the start of the season.”
“You weren’t the only one,” I confessed, and as we rounded the corner toward the locker room, we were met by a dozen giggling cheerleaders.
Maliyah included.
She was soaked head to toe, every inch of her uniform sticking to her lean body. Water was still gliding down her arms, her abdomen, her legs, more and more of it being released from her hair and adding to the stream.
Her laugh stuttered when she saw me, and her eyes flicked from me to Zeke and back again while all the cheerleaders watched her.
Watched us.
“Hey,” she finally said.
I swallowed. “Hey.”
One of the cheerleaders looped arms with two others and pulled them forward, the rest of the girls following and leaving us alone. Zeke gave me a look, a tilt of his chin his only farewell before he ducked inside the locker room.
Then it was just the two of us.
“That was a great game out there,” Maliyah said, and something of a smile bloomed on her lips with the words. “You’re even faster than I remember. They don’t stand a chance of being open when you’re out there.”
I sniffed. “Thanks.”
It wasn’t what I expected, standing there with her, finally alone for the first time since school started. I’d dreamed about having this moment for so long, what I would say, what I would do… but none of it felt like I thought it would.
Part of me longed to hold her, to reach out and pull her into me, to demand answers and ask why she was doing this.
But there was another part of me, louder than it had ever been, that was just… annoyed.
“Daddy was watching, too,” she said. “He wanted me to tell you how proud he is of you.”
That burned me more than I cared to admit.
Cory was the closest thing I’d had to a father figure since my dad left. They’d been close friends when I was younger, and I didn’t know if it was because of that or because of Maliyah that he’d taken particular interest in my life. He helped me when school got tough and Mom didn’t know what to do, or when I needed to shake off the mental pressure of football. He was a lawyer, calculated — but smart as hell.
His pride was something I wanted, even when I hated to admit it.
“I appreciate that,” I said with a little less bite.
Maliyah folded her arms over her chest, eyes a bit sad as she asked, “How are you?”
“How do you think I am, Li?”
My chest ached with the nickname, and I wondered if it did the same for her because she looked down at her shoes, rubbing her arms with her hands like she was cold.
“You seem to be doing fine,” she said to the floor, then dragged her eyes back up to meet mine. “With Giana.”
Fire sparked in my lungs with the mention of her name, both because of what I’d promised her I’d do, and because I knew just by that assessment alone that Maliyah had noticed us.
And that our little game was working.
“And you with Kyle,” I shot back.
“Kyle means nothing to me.”
She waited, like she expected me to say the same about Giana, but I knew Maliyah well enough to know that if I gave in too quickly, she’d lose interest just like she had before. I’d loved her for years, and one thing I knew better than anyone was that she loved a challenge.
And she loved to win even more.
When I didn’t respond, Maliyah sighed, looking around to make sure we were alone before she uncrossed her arms and stepped into me. Her warmth invaded my space, and she reached out, just the tip of her fingertip trailing my forearm.
“I see the way you still watch me when you’re with her,” she said, smiling as my skin pebbled under her touch. “What exactly is it you’re doing, Clay?”
Her eyes slowly slid up to mine, and she smiled coyly, leaning even more into me until her chest was flush with mine.
And again, I felt myself at war.
The urge to crush her to me and claim her mouth with my own battled with the powerful desire to give her a taste of her own medicine.
And something else… something foreign that I couldn’t quite name.
“I’m doing exactly what you wanted me to,” I said, angling my mouth for her ear.
She tilted her neck back, hand wrapping around my arm and squeezing tight as her lids fluttered close.
“I’m moving on.”
I whispered the words against her neck before abruptly pulling back and peeling her hand off me. I pushed past her and into the locker room, not bothering to turn and revel in seeing her jaw on the floor.
Maliyah wasn’t used to being denied.
I kicked the bottom of the locker they’d assigned me in the visitor space, drawing a few looks from my teammates before I forced a ragged breath and peeled off my jersey. Pads came next, and then I hobbled toward the showers, running the water as hot as I could and planting my hands on the cool tile wall as it rained down on me.
It was the first time we’d really talked since everything went down, since she threw me out like old garbage and walked away like it didn’t hurt her at all. Even now, I knew she was playing the game, dropping a tempting piece of bait right in my face to see if I’d swipe up and take it, only for her to reel me in and toss me back out again.
It pissed me off.
It broke my heart.
But that wasn’t what worried me most.
What made me stay in that hot shower until my fingers pruned and my skin was beet red was the fact that something in the way I felt about her had shifted, transformed into an emotion I didn’t recognize.
And now, I wasn’t sure what the game even was anymore.
Or what I was playing for.
The bus ride back to Boston was long and rainy, just like the game had been.
Though most of my teammates were rowdy and loud, celebrating our win and making plans to continue that celebration once we made it back to campus, I sat quietly near the front in a seat next to Holden, who seemed content to listen to his headphones and leave me alone.
My mom had texted me after the game, telling me she and Brandon had gone over to Maliyah’s parents’ house to watch the game on TV. She told me how proud she was of me. She told me how proud Cory was of me. She also asked if I was coming home for Thanksgiving.
I can’t wait for you to meet Brandon!
I didn’t have the energy to answer her, nor to even finish reading the long text my father had sent me not too long after that. It wasn’t a surprise to see his name on my missed texts. About the only time I ever heard from him was on game days, and usually it was a list of things I could do better, followed by questions on whether I’d found an agent or made my pro plan yet.
I was ready to throw my phone into the nearest river until Giana texted me right as we pulled into the parking lot.
Sorry I didn’t get to see you after the game. Field was madness with all the reporters. Are you back on campus yet?
I thumbed back a response confirming we’d just pulled in.
Come over?
My heart stopped before kicking back to life, and I typed back a thumbs up emoji before my sour attitude could talk me out of it. I’d had plans to march straight to my dorm and pass out face down in my mattress, but the truth was I didn’t want to be alone.
Not with all the thoughts whirling in my mind like a tornado.
Coach gave a quick speech in the locker room before we were all dismissed, told to enjoy our Sunday and get back here ready to work Monday morning. I flew out of there with my headphones on so no one could ask me to go out to the bars or The Pit.
It was a long walk to Giana’s spot off campus. I usually took the train or called for an Uber. But the rain had stopped, and I found myself thankful for the cool night air as I made my way off campus and wound through the Fort Point district. It was busy, locals and tourists alike flocking to restaurants and bars now that the weather had cleared up.
It was almost nine by the time I made it to Giana’s, and she buzzed me up, waiting with her door open when I made it to her floor.
“Okay, I figured you were hungry after that monster game — that pick was insane, by the way! — but I didn’t know what you’d be hungry for, exactly,” she said, holding the door wider so I could slip inside. As soon as I did, a plethora of aromas assaulted me. “So… I kind of ordered a little of everything.”
Her hair was big and frizzy from the rain, piled into a sloppy bun on top of her head with little curls bursting out of the hold and framing her face. She wore her black glasses tonight, the frames wide, and her fluffy, pink house slippers slapped against the wood floor as she walked me toward the kitchen.
She wore a simple white, spaghetti-strap tank top, and it was cropped so that her stomach showed between it and the oversized sweatpants hanging low on her hips. Everything about her screamed cozy, along with the candles burning in every corner of her place.
When we made it to the little kitchen, she bit her lip shyly, gesturing to the spread of food that was entirely too much for two people.
“There’s dumplings and rice, and pizza, and some slider burgers from the bar down the street. I got some pretzel bites with beer cheese because yum.” She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, patting her stomach like a starved man before she popped a finger up. “Oh! And fries. And donuts. And ice cream in the freezer. I might also have some… chips… up… here,” she added, struggling as she reached up onto her tiptoes to open the small cabinet above her stove.
She indeed did have chips, two bags of Cheetos — both puffy and crunchy — and she added them to the spread before hanging her hands on her hips in satisfied victory.
“Bón appétit,” she said. When she finally looked at me, her brows folded in. “Oh God, it’s too much, isn’t it?”
I tried to smile, shaking my head. “No, it’s great.”
Her frown only deepened, and she stepped closer, searching my eyes as I swallowed and tore my gaze away from her. I stared at the space between us, my hands tucked firmly in the pockets of my sweatpants.
“You’re not okay,” she whispered.
Again, I tried to smile, but it wilted like a flower in the desert sun. I lifted my gaze, debating over trying to say I was fine.
But in the end, I just shook my head.
Giana sighed, nodding like she understood without me saying a word. “Okay, you,” she said, grabbing my arms and marching me toward her bedroom. “Sit,” she instructed, pushing me until I sat down on the edge of her bed. “Relax. I’ll make us a couple plates. And you pick out the documentary we’re going to watch.”
“Documentary?” I asked with an arched brow, kicking off my sneakers before I sat back against her headboard.
“Yep. We’re going to watch a stupid documentary about something weird and stuff our faces.” She thumbed through to Netflix, eyes lighting up a bit when she clicked into the documentary sub-category. “Oh! Look. One on cheerleading.”
She gave me a look, waggling her brows.
I swiped the remote out of her hand. “Give me that.”
With a smile, she obliged, disappearing into the kitchen. She came back moments later with two plates piled high with a smorgasbord of food, and then she slid onto the mattress next to me.
“Our Planet! Excellent choice, my friend,” she said, popping a Cheeto in her mouth. Then, she grabbed the remote out of my hand, scrolled a few episodes, hit play, and flicked off the lamp next to her side of the bed.
The documentary started, and she kept her eyes on the screen, save for when she reached for something on the two plates between us.
She didn’t bug me about what was wrong. She didn’t pry.
She was just… there.
“Isn’t this… crazy?” she asked me around a mouthful of Cheetos when we were halfway through the second episode we picked. It was High Seas, and glow-in-the-dark creatures that lived far in the depths of the ocean were swimming across the screen. “It looks like it’s CGI. But it’s not. This is real.” She paused, waving her Cheeto about like a wand. “I mean… that’s real. That weird glow-in-the-dark fish that looks like an alien lives right here on the same planet as us.”
She popped the chip in her mouth, shaking her head.
“I know aliens are real. I mean, it would be ridiculous for there to be so many universes and not a single other planet has intelligent life on it. But whether we will ever communicate with them? I don’t know. But this?” She gestured to the screen. “We have aliens right here. We have a whole other galaxy we can’t even fully explore because we can’t dive that deep. How wild is that?”
I smirked, arching a brow at her as she continued staring at the screen wide-eyed and chomping on the dusty orange chips.
She was so strange, and intelligent, and curious, and full of wonder. She was like a child and a grown ass woman somehow wrapped up in one.
Giana must have sensed me looking at her, because she glanced my way before sucking the crumbs off her fingertips and asking, “Do you want to talk about it?”
I cracked my neck, looking back at the screen. “Not really.” I paused. “But… thank you. For this,” I added with a nod toward the TV. “It helped.”
She smiled, a little shimmy of her shoulders telling me she was proud of that. “Good.”
The light from the television battled with the shadows of her room, casting her figure in a soft blue light. I followed the length of it down to her cleavage, the sliver of skin showing above her sweatpants, all the way down to her feet and back up again. I couldn’t explain it, but there was something so comfortable about her in that moment, something that begged to be held.
That beast inside me reared its ugly head, rattling against the cage and demanding my attention. And I didn’t know if it was for her or for my own selfish desire that I did what I did next.
“So…” I cleared my throat. “Now that you’ve made me feel better…” I angled myself toward her, propping my chin on the heel of my hand. “Wanna practice?”
Giana frowned. “Practice?” she echoed around a bite of a pretzel dipped in beer cheese.
When she looked at me, I just cocked a brow, hoping the salacious smile spreading on my lips would be answer enough.
Her lips parted, eyes popping open wide before she gulped down the bite in her mouth. “Oh, my God. Practice! Yes!”
In a feat of agility and speed, she dropped what was left of the pretzel in her hand and cleared the plates and snacks from the bed between us. She hastily shuffled them into the kitchen before all but skipping back to the bed and jumping into it, landing on her knees and clapping like a little kid.
“Okay. What do we do?”
I smirked, sitting up to join her, but as soon as I did, she gasped and leapt out of the bed.
“Wait!” she exclaimed, and then disappeared into the bathroom. I heard the faucet running and a quick two minutes later she was back. “Sorry. Cheeto breath,” she explained.
I barked out a laugh at that. “I’m not worried about your breath. And besides, I’ve been eating the same shit. Do you want me to go brush my teeth?”
“No. Cheeto breath wouldn’t make you disgusting the way it would on me. You’d somehow find a way to make it sexy.”
I licked my bottom lip, amused, and Giana rolled her eyes before smacking my chest playfully.
“Come on. Focus. Tell me what to do.”
She carefully removed her glasses next, setting them aside before she was tuned back into me. And the way she was perched there, propped up on her knees, her chest swelling and falling, eyes eager… it was the sweetest, most intoxicating sight. She watched me like I had all the answers, like I was her lifeline.
Like she trusted me with everything that she was.
Swallowing, I ignored every voice inside me that warned against what I was about to do, and I moved into her, framing her body with my fists against the mattress as she leaned against the headboard.
“Lie down,” I commanded.
A flash of desire pooled in her eyes as she obeyed.
