Authors: Harper Bentley
Jag
“Fuck, that hurts!” I whine.
“No pain, no gain,” Kim, my physical therapist says.
I grunt as an answer because if I open my mouth, I’ll go off on him. Yeah, I said
him
.
“Keep going. You’ve got one more set,” he informs me.
Now I’ve had it. “Who the fuck names their
son
Kim anyway?” I ask with a sneer as I pull the resistance band toward my stomach. To the average person this is not a tough exercise, but I sweat as I feel the strain on my shoulder, damn it.
“What kinda pussy name is Jag?”
he fires back and I snort in the middle of a pull.
“Fuck off. My dad was in a
rock band back in the 70s. I’m named after a good friend of his. You might’ve heard of him before: Mick Jagger.”
“Oh, and that makes it less pussified,” he counters.
I release the band as I bark out a laugh. We’ve been doing this for the past two months, trading insults. I have to admit that I started it when one of the exercises early on hurt so badly I thought I was going to pass out from the pain. So to keep my masculinity intact, verbal abuse was necessary. Kim’s just thrown it right back at me and it’s been awesome. He may have a sissy name but the guy’s definitely not a wimp.
“How’s it feel?” he asks, coming up be
hind me and putting a hand on my shoulder, manipulating it some.
“
Same as it did last night after your sister blew me. Fuck!” I flinch as he pushes his fingers into the muscle.
“Wondered why she came in and said she’d had a small snack, a
very
small snack, and felt unsatisfied.”
“Guess you didn’t notice that her jaw had been
dislocated then, and she still didn’t take it all.”
He
steps back after what feels like his jabbing a knife into my shoulder, which makes me bend in pain and raises an eyebrow. “You’d better be glad I don’t actually have a sister.”
I laugh at that, but
I’m glad too. He’s a big guy and I know he could do some damage if I ever had to fight him, especially in the state I’m in right now.
“I’m thinking a couple more weeks on the bands then we’ll move on to dumbbells,” he informs me as he starts picking up around the room.
“Think I’ll be ready by spring training?” I ask. I suck in a breath as I wait knowing my career depends on his answer. I haven’t had the balls up until now to even broach the subject, but my arm’s feeling pretty good.
He looks at me for a few seconds then continues cleaning up. “Big of an asshole as you are, stubborn, bullheaded, wouldn’t surprise me if you’re ready to throw some end of next month.”
Sweet. I let out my breath and grin as I zip my hoodie. “I knew my shitty attitude would come in handy some day.”
He snorts as he picks up a towel, throwing it in a hamper. “’Bout all it’s good for,” he mumbles.
“See you Friday, Kimberly,” I say and jog out of the room, laughing when I hear him mumble, “Fucker,” in my wake.
“You fucking kidding me right now?
It’s freezing out there!” Logan informs me on the way back to my condo.
“It’s fifty-five degrees, dumbass,” I say into my phone.
“Yeah. Cold. Dipshit.”
“You’re from Albany
.”
“Point?”
“It’s fucking cold there. How could you think fifty-five is cold?” I ask.
“It’s goddamned cold, Jensen. And you wanna surf?”
“Yeah. I wanna surf.” I hadn’t gone out since July right before I blew out my shoulder and I was itching to get back out there. It’s probably a dumb idea with my injury, but four months of doing nothing remotely exciting is enough. Surfing always seems to clear my head, and I need to deep-six some shit, such as the uncertainty of my career and of course, any misgivings concerning El and me.
S
he’s always on my mind and it’s not going away any time too soon. I find myself wondering what she’s doing all the time. Who she’s with. If she’s thinking about me.
I saw her at the beginning of the month when I went home to visit my parents, and when she’d driven by, our eyes had met. I’d thought she’d stop, but from the way she was
frowning at me, I realized it was too soon for her, she needed more time to figure some things out. But the thing is, I know we’re getting back together. I
know
it. She’s mine, I’m hers and there’s no question about it. We just need a little more time to get over some things.
“You wanna surf in this weather?” he asks
dumbfounded.
“Jesus, Logan. Yeah. You no comprende my Anglais?”
“Where do you live again? Oh, yeah. Dickville. Population: You.”
I
laugh. “Get your ass over here so the population can move up to two.”
“Christ
. Gimme an hour,” he finally agrees.
“Thanks, man,” I tell Logan as we sit
on my patio drinking a beer. “I needed that. Just don’t tell Kim. He’d kick my ass if he found out.”
Logan snorts. “Who the fuck names their son Kim?” he says which makes me chuckle.
“Regardless of his name, he’s a badass.”
“Whipping you into shape, I see. You gonna be ready by Glendale?”
“Hoping. He said I might be able to start throwing end of next month,” I say.
“Awesome.”
My phone rings and I get up and go inside retrieving it off the bar. “Yeah, Coach?” I answer.
“Heard you got some good news today,” he says.
“Yeah, I did. Kim says I could be throwing by the end of next month.”
“Good deal. I need you to come in for a bit, though. Got some things to talk about.”
“Okay. I’ll be there in thirty. Anything I should worry about?”
“Nope. Just a turning point in your life, so to speak.”
Logan comes in while I’m talking to Coach and raises his eyebrow when I hang up. “What’d Coach want?”
“Said he wants to talk to me, something about a ‘turning point’ in my life,” I answer.
“Fuck,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“He said the same thing to Delgado right before he was traded to the Orioles.”
Oh, shit. Does
Coach want to talk to me about being traded? I don’t even know how to feel about that. I look at Logan then around at my condo wondering what the next hour will hold for me.
El
I stand and stare at the clothes hanging
in my closet as I bite my thumbnail. Just what does one wear on a sorta, kinda date with someone when you’re in love with someone else?
That could so be a
quiz in the next
Cosmo
:
1.
What percentage would you say you’re still in love with your ex?
a. 100%
b. 75%
c. 50%
d. 25%
Results: If you chose a, b, c or d you’re an asshole and have no business going out with another man.
Ugh.
I know this. I
know
this. But I’m so tired of hurting that any distraction is welcome. Which isn’t fair to Austin. I’ll have to make sure to let him know where my head (and my heart) is at.
“What made you wanna go into
physical therapy? Isn’t it kinda gross touching sweaty stinky athletes all day long?” Austin grins at me over the top of his beer mug before taking a drink.
I
chuckle. He’s a funny guy. And cute. And sweet. And I’ve been having fun so far. And the guilt is killing me.
“I was a trainer for the football team in high school
and it felt right. I knew I wanted to work in sports somehow, and I got really good at taping ankles, so I wanted to see what else I could do.” I take a sip of my beer as I shrug.
“Are you
Ed
?” I look over to see a seven or eight-year-old boy standing by our table whose eyes are about to pop out of his head as he stares at Austin.
“That’d be me, little buddy. And what’s your name?”
The boy looks like he’s going to pass out and I have to giggle.
“My name’s
Austin too,” the kid says, now looking like he’s going into mild shock.
Austin
’s smile is huge. “Awesome name, dude!” He holds his knuckles out to the boy whose mouth drops open. Little Austin hesitates as if this is a monumental moment in the history of mankind then he slowly raises his arm and finally touches his knuckles to Austin’s. As I watch, I find myself captivated, leaning forward and watching the gradual movement of the kid’s arm then have to roll my eyes at myself because I seriously start thinking sparks might fly when they touch.
And t
his thought reminds me of Jag and our
Beauty and the Beast
experiment when we were little and we kissed to see if fireworks would go off. I sit back suddenly as if I’ve been slapped. Stupid memories.
“Awesome,”
the boy whispers staring at his hand as he pulls it back.
“You want an autograph?”
Austin asks and I glance at the kid who now looks like he actually might keel over by the way he’s teetering. He swallows loudly but then recovers and nods, yanking off his Cubs cap and handing it over. “Willie? You got a Sharpie?” Austin asks the huge guy behind the bar who smiles and reaches under the counter then tosses a marker over. Austin signs the kid’s cap then hands it back, and you’d think by the look on the kid’s face that he’d just been given every cheat code to every video game ever made. “What position do you play?”
Little Austin’s face turns beet red before he lowers his head and answers, “Right field.”
“Hey, that’s an important position too,” Austin tells him. The kid looks at him doubtfully. “I played right field when I was your age.”
And now he’s made a fan for life, if there was ever any doubt.
I watch as the little boy takes on a whole new persona with this latest news, puffing out his chest a little and grinning hugely. “You did?”
“Yep. Keep working hard and you can play any position you want.”
“Okay. Thanks, Ed!” and he runs off yelling to his dad about how “Ed’s the coolest guy
ever
!”
I look at Austin and smile. I’ve seen Jag interacting with a lot of kids
like that too. It’s quite the sight.
“Hero worship at its finest,” I say with a chuckle.
“Never gets old.” He smirks then winks at me and I suck in a breath. The man is just way too handsome.
After several seconds I
break the spell and say, “Well, I’d better get home. I’ve got some laundry to do,” and wonder when my life got so lame.
“Oh, okay.
Yeah, I’ve got some urgent dusting I’ve got to do, so I’d better be on my way too,” he says with another smirk, and now I’m blushing just like Little Austin did.
Big Au
stin’s
very
cute. Damn it.
Taking a deep breath, I grab m
y purse to pay when he throws some bills on the table, glancing at me and winking again. This makes me stand, ready to get the hell out of there. I have no idea why I agreed to go out with him. This was a bad idea.
He
holds the door for me and we walk out to the parking lot stopping at my Jetta.
“I’d like to see you again, Ellen,” he says as he leans down toward me
.
I
tense up and stand as still as a statue looking up at him wondering what the fuck I’m supposed to do. Should I kiss him? Do I even
want
to kiss him? I mean, I haven’t kissed another guy in almost nine years.
Wait.
I’ve never actually kissed another guy before. Jag’s been my one and only.
Shit!
Just as the panic starts to overtake me, Austin’s lips are on mine and it’s so freaking weird to have another man’s mouth on my mouth and I feel every little thing as I think about the difference between his lips and Jag’s. As the kiss continues, there’s no reaction or movement coming from me and I know that, like me, he’s probably comparing the kiss too. To a dead fish. Ugh.
He pulls back and looks down at me with a troubled look on his face. “That was, uh… nice…” He says this like it’s a question and I’m mortified that I’ve just been a complete fail. “So, um, I guess…”
I don’t give him a chance to finish because for some inexplicable reason I wrap my arm around the back of his neck and pull him down to me and lay a big one on him, tongue and all. I know he likes it because his hands suddenly go to my waist, jerking me to him roughly then he pushes me back against my car and our bodies are crushed together so tightly a playing card couldn’t even be slid between them.
Wow
.
When we pull away, we’re both breathing heavily and looking at each other in surprise.
“That was, Jesus, Ellen,” he mumbles still breathing hard and looking at me as if I’m a puzzle he can’t figure out.
Well, at least I know I’ve still got it.
I bite my lip then say, “Gotta go. See you later,” and the next thing I know, I’m in my car and backing out, leaving him standing there watching me go.
As I drive, I put my fingers to my mouth that’s still buzzing from the kiss. Holy crap. I just kissed another man.
Holy crap!
I just kissed someone other than Jag! And the worst part about it?
I think I liked it.
“Well?” Rebecca asks
with a yawn when
she calls later that night.
I’m already in bed having done
laundry and dishes, vacuumed and anything else to keep my mind off what went down earlier.
“Well, what?” I ask.
“C’mon, El, I’m on a break and don’t have much time. How’d it go?”
I don’t know how she does it. She’s at that hospital twenty-four
seven it seems yet she still has time for my ridiculousness. I sigh and answer, “It went okay.”
“Just okay? Or okay, okay?”
“What’s the difference?” I ask.
“Well, it either went okay or it went
okay
,” she explains.
“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”
She laughs. “El! Come on! Did you kiss him?” I sigh again and she knows. “You did! Oh, my God! You totally kissed him! How was it? Was it good? Did he use tongue? Like swirly, good tongue that you want all over and specifically on one part of your body, or thick, sluggish cow tongue that makes you wanna gag? Who initiated it? Are you going out again?”
I
lie in bed, staring at the ceiling while she babbles on, wondering what Jag’s doing right now. Is he kissing another woman? Maybe Alessandra? That thought pisses me off and I frown. Then I turn on my side and draw my legs up to my chest when pictures of him kissing other famous women—movie stars, models—flash through my mind and I feel like I’ve been punched in the fucking gut. All the gossip magazines have linked him to several of them, Ariana Evans in particular, and although I’ve tried ignoring it, some of it still gets to me. And now the pictures are vivid in my mind.
“El?”
It’s hard to talk with the lump that’s formed in my throat but I do it anyway. “Oh, huh?” I rasp out.
“I asked if you’re going out again?”
“I don’t know. After we kissed I kinda just left without saying anything. And he doesn’t have my number.”
“Aw, damn. It wasn’t good,” she says sounding disappointed.
“Actually, it was very good,” I inform her and frown again.
“Yeah? So you’d consider
going out with him again?”
“I don’t know. And again, h
e didn’t really ask.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t run off he would have,” she says.
“Who knows.” I don’t really want to talk about this as I think about Jag kissing someone else. I’d be so hurt. What would he think right now if he knew what I’d done?
“So was he all sweet and attentive?”
I turn back over and stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah, he really was. A little boy came up asking for an autograph and he was so nice to him. I thought the kid was gonna pass out for a while he was so nervous, but Austin talked to him and calmed him down.”
“
That’s so cute!” she squeals.
“
Yeah, it was…” I sigh loudly for what’s probably the billionth time since the breakup. It’s become my new favorite thing.
“El…”
“Yeah?” And now my voice cracks.
“Oh, honey, it’s gonna be okay. I promise it’s gonna be okay.”
“Wh-what if Jag’s doing the same thing? What if he’s kissing another woman? And I’m not talking about that skank Alessandra. I can handle her because I know she’s fake.” I put a hand over my eyes trying to keep from crying. “I believe him…”
Now i
t’s Bec’s turn to sigh. “I know. I believe him too. But like I’ve said before, sometimes it’s a good idea to back off for a bit. Let things settle down, you know? You know what happened when you tried talking to him.”
Yeah, that’d gone over great. When Jag had gotten hurt, I’d been watching his game on TV
from my apartment in Chicago and saw it happen which freaked me the hell out. I’d called him immediately after he’d left the field and when he finally answered, he’d basically cussed me out and told me he wasn’t my concern anymore. Oh, and how could I forget his telling me to leave him the fuck alone. I’d known he was angry at me, known he had every right to be, and that’s when things had become very real.
I
get it now. I should’ve believed him when he tried explaining things about that bitch Alessandra, but at the time it’d just been one thing after another and I couldn’t take it anymore, so I’d ended it between us.
N
ow I feel bad because although they’d been linked as a couple in the media since they’d done some pretty risqué commercials together (on top of the text message he’d “sent” her and a picture of them kissing that she’d forwarded to me), I knew better. I knew he wouldn’t betray me like that. I should’ve believed him when he tried to tell me she was a whack job, but I’d thrown our relationship away because of my anger and my insecurities.
With another yawn, Bec says,
“I’ve gotta get back. I’m off this Thursday. Wanna hang out?” She yawns again then continues. “Maybe go to a movie? Shopping? Might be time to get you some sexy, new underwear,” she says carefully.
Dear God. I haven’t even thought that far ahead. I’m still freakin
g out about the kiss. Jeez.
“
I can’t even go there right now, Bec.” I sigh dramatically and want to punch something. Maybe myself. “I’m off Thursday too, so, yeah, we can hang out.”
“
It’ll get better, El. Promise. And yay for shopping! I’ll call you tomorrow, okay, honey?”
We hang up and before falli
ng asleep, I lie there looking at the ceiling again wondering when this ache inside will go away.