THERE’S a distinct kind of magic being wrapped up in bed with Jade. Looking back at just a few weeks ago, this moment would’ve seemed like a far-fetched fantasy. But here we are, exactly where we’re meant to be.
Her body finds solace in my arms, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with my own. I trace my fingers through her soft curls, stirring a sigh from her lips as she snuggles against me, her breasts pressed into my chest.
After drilling her on my dresser and, subsequently, my mattress—this all feels soft, and warm, and so fucking sweet. It’s a feeling that I don’t ever want to let go.
Jade stirs, stretching until she’s balanced on her forearms beside me. Her voice breaks the silence, tinged with sleepiness. “What was your team meeting about anyway?”
I roll to my side to face her, my free hand tracing random patterns along her bare spine. “Coach scheduled a scrimmage for us against Coastal U,” I say with a shrug. “It’s in two weeks.”
“Really? Have you ever done a spring scrimmage against an opponent?” I shake my head. “This will be a first. The NCAA’s finally allowing it.
Plus, Coach Rodriguez thinks it will give us some perspective on how the team’s doing. You know, prepare us for fall term.”
She hums in understanding but doesn’t miss a beat. “Except Dayton hasn’t been doing regular practices. And I heard Coastal has a really tight team this year.”
“Exactly,” I grumble, grimacing at the reminder. “Which is why we’re doubling down for the next two weeks.”
“Well, I’m sure you guys will kill it anyway.” Her faith in me is endearing, yet another reason why I’m drawn to her.
I lift a shoulder, attempting to downplay it. “I mean, it’s more so just for fun. But yeah, losing could definitely put a damper on the . . . banquet.”
The word tastes bitter now, given the past implications. It was a moment of vulnerability when she asked me about Shan, and I should’ve just told her about the Trade. But it felt wrong to do it then, not when she was already grappling with her own insecurities.
Which are . . . hard for me to fathom because I’m fucking lost when it comes to this girl. It’s like I’m disconnected from my own mind sometimes, just wandering around until I can get my next fix of her.
Her eyes narrow, picking up on my hesitation. “That’s the following weekend, right?”
“Yeah,” I manage to say, forcing a casual half-smile. “You know, we always do awards and stuff. I think another loss might rain on our parade.”
Her smirk is teasing, playful. “I guess you better win, then.”
“I guess so,” I say with a lighthearted chuckle, my fingers tracing over the smooth planes of her back. “You think you could make some time to watch me play?”
“Hmm, I don’t know.” She feigns contemplation. “I guess I could try and pencil you in.”
An idea forms, and I act on it. “Wait,” I say, my hand stilling. “What if you asked to cover the game for the Daily?”
“What?”
“Yeah, tell Garrett you have some interviews lined up already. It’s just a scrimmage, so maybe he’d be down to give you a shot.”
She lunges forward to hug me. “Theo! That’s such a great idea.” My heart lightens at her enthusiasm. “Yeah?”
“Yes! I’m definitely gonna ask him. I mean, there’s no way he could have already assigned the piece to someone else. You just found out about it last night, and you’re on the team.”
“Fair point.” I grin, proud of my suggestion.
“God, see, this is why I date you.” Her hand traces a path down to my arm, gripping my bicep.
“Oh, so that’s the reason?”
She laughs, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Well, that and you’re great in bed.”
“Damn right. Speaking of . . .” I slide my hand over the curve of her hip, a smirk playing on my lips.
“You’re trying to wear me out, aren’t you?”
“I’m just trying to prepare us both for another weeklong drought. I’m gonna be at practice almost every night.”
Her playful demeanor fades, replaced by a soft pout. “I really won’t be seeing you much, will I?”
I cup her cheek, my thumb tracing her jawline. “Don’t worry, we’ll make time.”
“Promise?”
My answer is sealed with a kiss, soft and reassuring. “I will if you will.” “Okay.” Her smile returns. “Then it’s a deal.”
 |
THE FOLLOWING DAY, the sinking feeling of mediocrity sets in as I receive my assignment back from Professor Hartman. A bright red “72%” glares at me from the top of the page. It’s a clear sign that Jade’s tutoring sessions hold more weight than my regular tutor.
Fucking pathetic if you ask me.
As we gear up for afternoon practice, Cam crunches the numbers for me. I’ll need a 75% on the written exam to keep my overall GPA intact. And I don’t have much faith in myself to achieve that. One fuckup has become my Everest, and now I’m standing at the foot of it, unsure of how to scale my way to the top.
I slip my jersey over my head as I pose the million-dollar question to Cam. “How am I gonna make time to study these next couple of weeks?”
“I can pull some late nights,” he offers. “Help you after practice.”
I dismiss him with a wave, appreciating his offer but refusing it all the same. “Nah, man, you got your own shit. And you might be the smartest motherfucker I know, but writing? Not your thing.”
As I deflect, his mind works in overdrive. “What about Jade?” he asks. “She helped you out before, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, conjuring up images of her intense focus, the softness in her voice as she pored over my essay. “But she’s swamped with her own stuff.”
“You should just ask her.”
“I don’t know.” There’s a strange tightening in my chest at his suggestion. I don’t want to push her to help me, to make her feel obligated. “I don’t want her to think I’m asking too much.”
“That’s what relationships are for.”
I glance at him, skeptical. “You sure?”
“Yeah, man. If she doesn’t have time to help, then she’ll tell you. It’s all about give-and-take with the person you’re dating.”
I take a moment to assess my best friend, appreciating his genuine concern. Objectively, he’s a good-looking guy, intelligent, and seems to know a hell of a lot about relationships. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend again?”
He chuckles, a light sound that breaks the tension. “Too busy giving out free dating advice.”
“Well, thanks, man.” I thump his back in gratitude. “In some twisted way, you’re the reason Jade and I got together.”
“You mean because of the Trade?”
“Yeah, you know . . . I thought about telling her the other day,” I confess, my voice tinged with apprehension. “I was actually—”
“Wait, are you fucking serious?”
I shift uncomfortably, my gaze fixed on the ground. “I mean,” I say sheepishly, “Jade wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“Dude, are you using your brain at all?” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration twisting his features. “She would definitely tell someone. You know Coach would be livid if he found out, right? Like, half of us would be benched for the season.”
“I know,” I say, grinding my teeth together. “But Jade’s not spiteful like that.”
He lets out a disbelieving snort. “Right. And again, you’ve known her for what . . . a little over a month? Think with your head and not with your dick, man.”
“Oh, fuck off,” I snap, my jaw clenched tightly. “I didn’t tell her, so stop acting like I killed somebody just for thinking about it.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, his tone softening. “I’m just trying to look out for the team right now. I know you like this girl, but you gotta think rationally here.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about the fact that my girlfriend straight-up asked me if I had feelings for another girl last night.”
His brows shoot up. “She asked if you had feelings for Shannon?”
“Yeah, and I told her I never did,” I say, a mixture of guilt and uncertainty swirling inside me. “I mean, that’s the honest truth. I fully realize that now. But still, part of me feels like I’m lying to her.”
“You’re not lying,” he insists, his voice firm. “You’re just . . . not telling.”
“Same shit. It’s a lie by omission.”
He places a heavy hand on my shoulder, a gesture of both support and reassurance. “Dude, trust me when I say this—nothing good can come from telling her about the Trade.”
I pause, his words sinking in. I can’t deny the truth behind his advice. What good could possibly come out of telling her about this—something that could potentially disrupt not only our relationship but also my entire team’s dynamics?
It’s a big risk, with very little reward.
“No,” I finally say, rubbing my temples to ease the building tension. “I guess you’re right.”
“I know it sounds harsh, but it’s all gonna be over in a few weeks,” he assures me, his voice filled with empathy. “Besides, you called that shit off before you even got together. You’re not doing anything wrong, man.”
“Alright.”
“Alright, then.” He gives me a stiff nod, reaching for his cleats. “Swear you won’t lose your mind over this?”
“Cam, seriously, fuck off,” I repeat, my words clipped. “I’m not swearing shit. I said I won’t tell her, and I won’t.”
“Okay, I’m fucking off now.” He holds both hands up in mock defense. “I know you got this.”
“Sure,” I grumble, grabbing my gear and following Cam out the door. We toss our things into the back of his Jeep and climb in. I slide into the passenger seat and dial up the radio, a feeble attempt to drown out the disquiet in my mind.
Despite Cam’s supportive words, my guilt remains. I’ve tried to rationalize this, to convince myself that I’ve done nothing wrong. Yet, the facts are the facts—I’m a fucking liar at the end of the day. I’ve
manipulated the truth, and there’s a weight to that reality, a heavy certainty that my actions will come back to bite me in the ass.
