Rooster: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (29 page)

She tucks her hair behind her ears, conscious I’ve just mentioned them.

“That’s pretty good peripheral vision.”

“You kind of need it as a quarterback.”

“What else do you need?”

“You want to do this so formally?”

“Don’t you?”

“I always thought you were more creative than that.”

“I told you I’m not going to make stuff up.”

“Then put in something people won’t know.”

Lucy shifts a little, crosses and uncrosses her legs, and then gives me the look that tells me I’ve given her something to bite on, a hint of the smell of something new.

“Alex Vann Haden, notorious womanizer, famous for his assets, much smaller in real life than initially thought.”

“You see, it’s all a game. To them, I’m The Rhino. The bad boy that threatens staff members, wakes up in jail cells, fucks famous politicians daughters-.” Lucy’s frowning at me and she obviously didn’t know, or doesn’t know, or wasn’t sure, whatever, she clearly doesn’t approve. “-That time really was a mistake. I’m not really like that.”

“What are you like?”

“I’m multidimensional. Layered. Complex.”

“You sound like an onion. Alex Vann Haden, originally thought to be a world class athlete, recently discovered to be nothing but an onion.”

“Now you’re mocking me.”

“Sensitive too.”

“It would help if you didn’t come at this with bias.”

“Then you should have asked someone along that you didn’t have history with.”

“Have I upset you?”

“You didn’t return my Valentine’s cards.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never sent a Valentine’s card in my life.”

“Actually, you did me a favor.”

“How’s that?”

“You would have only gone on and broken my heart.”

“That means you did care about me.”

Lucy shrugs. “We all make mistakes.”

“Maybe we can learn from them.”

Lucy shakes her head. “That is definitely something you’re not going to be able to convince me of in a week.”

“Then I guess you’ll just have to stay around for longer.”

I leave Lucy with a smile, too quick for her to respond, disappear down into the kitchen and bring back up a bottle of champagne, strawberries, full fat cream, and icing sugar. Lucy pulls the champagne out of the ice bucket to look at the label momentarily before allowing it to slide back inside amongst the freezing water.

“Are you trying to impress me?”

“Lucy Parker, there is no way I can answer that question without finding myself in a hole. If I told you yes, I’d be accused of foul play and acting unnaturally, when I’ve asked you here to record my natural life, and if I said no, this is what I always do, you’d be disappointed because I’m not treating you specially enough.”

“You’ve thought about that way too much for it to be natural, but then again, do you always keep champagne and strawberries in your fridge for special occasions?”

“I don’t bring just anyone here, you know.”

“No, of course, here to this very specific piece of water in the middle of nowhere.”

“See, I knew you were enjoying yourself.”

I open the bottle and pour the champagne while Lucy places strawberries into a bowl, cream poured generously over the top.

“The champagne is a nice touch, but the company could be improved I suppose.”

“There you go, goading me again, when I’ve already told you how sensitive I am.”

“I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“Name one person you’d prefer to be here with.”

That’s put her on the spot.

“Go on, one person”, I say again.

“I’m at work, that’s an unfair question.”

“You chose to come.”

“My boss forced me.”

“You chose to stay.”

“Who can refuse a boat trip to the middle of nowhere?”

“You just can’t admit you like me.”

“I’d like you more if you were less arrogant.”

“Admit it.”

She gives me that oh-so-not-very-subtle look away and then a coquettish look back up. This girl is pure theater, she’s learned that over the last five years. Not the college virgin anymore, far from it. This girl knows what she wants and she’s convincing herself she knows how to get it. A sip of champagne while the question hangs, a seductive wrapping of her damp lips around that strawberry she will know exactly what is doing to me.

“Alright.”

“Alright, what?”

“I’m enjoying myself.”

“With me?”

“You form part of that equation, yes.”

I can’t help but smile. “I knew you’d like me.”

“I didn’t say I liked you, I said I was enjoying myself.”

“It’s the same thing.”

“You think everyone likes you, you have a warped sense of perspective. It comes from the necessity to protect yourself from criticism.”

“I love it when you talk dirty.”

“You’d get turned on by a shop mannequin if you gave it the right dress.”

“Now now, don’t do yourself a disservice.”

“I’ll make sure I’m careful of that.”

“And I didn’t ever think you liked me, not the first time around at least.”

“Don’t convince yourself that viewpoint has changed if it hasn’t.”

“No, of course, making the same mistake twice would be awful.”

“Unforgivable.”

“Unthinkable.”

“Undeniable.”

This is sexual tension central station and even though she’s not admitting in, Lucy’s a high-speed train coming at me with her horns blaring and her lights flashing all over the place. I’m so horny I can barely hide it. My dick is twitching against the fabric of my board shorts like mad, and I’m swelling so rapidly I’m either going to have to pour water on my lap or something much more enjoyable instead, like those lips or those hands or what I know will be growing rapidly hot and tingly like mad inside her sexy little-

“Underwear.”

There is definitely movement towards each other, that’s undeniable. I could repeat that moment in my head a thousand times and come to the same conclusion. And when I say that moment, I mean
that moment.
The kiss. The culmination of a couple of days flirting. The close proximity of two individuals, with history, no longer able to deny it any more. The
fuck it, I’m going in
moment, the
nothing else matters
moment. The
Alex Vann Haden and Lucy Parker five years in the waiting ninety-nine yard hail mary at the end of the Superbowl, except I never throw hail mary passes because I’m that certain to make sure I get it done before there’s even a chance of it being over I don’t need to
moment.

The ice in my crotch feels super cold, and I’m up on my feet, softened instantly, watching that moment float away on the afternoon’s wind, waving at me as it goes, flicking me the bird.

Lucy looks embarrassed, either because of what’s happened - both the attempt to kiss me and the accidental knocking over of the ice bucket - or maybe because I’ve just caught her ogling my crotch.

“Fuck, sorry, fuck”, Lucy’s saying, the words punctuated by laughter. “That was super unlucky.”

And then the moment is so far past us there’s nothing else for it but to move on and wait for it to eventually come back around again.

Lucy

If that jerk thinks he can play me like that, he’s got another thing coming. He’s so transparent I can see the sun shining through him, and it’s not going to work.

If Alex Vann Haden is serious, which I’m almost a hundred percent certain he’s not, he’s going to have to work a lot harder than that to prove it.

I’m not going to let him win this little bet unless I know it doesn’t bother him if he loses it, and I’m not going to give it up just like that. I might have done at college, if this happened way back then, but I’m definitely not going to do it now. He can pour me as much champagne as he likes, take me to as many private islands in the middle of nowhere, but until he proves to me he’s not just another alpha male looking to get laid, he and I are going nowhere.

The water has made his board shorts see-through enough I can see the outline of his cock, and as much as I try not to look at it, I can’t help my eyes wandering back there every so often.

Nowhere
, I repeat back to myself. I’m better than that. I’m strong enough to resist him and have a large enough sense of self-worth not to bring myself down to his level. No matter how easy it would be. Not matter how much I have always kicked myself for being the shy girl who was always out of his league.

That’s why none of this makes sense. That’s why I’m still convinced he’s trying to trick me, or punk me, or whatever, everything but being sincere about what he actually wants. And I don’t buy that bullshit for one minute. Maybe now he’s seen me he wants to fuck me but back then, at college, when he had every opportunity to tell me the same? It’s a little difficult to swallow.

I look from Alex’s crotch, across the perfectly tight muscles of his abdomen and then up to his beautiful blue eyes. They are narrowed against the sun and it gives his face a quizzical, slightly surprised look.

I suppose he expected me to throw myself at him then, and now that his plans have changed he’s been thrown off course. Invite a girl here, take her out on the boat, ply her with champagne and watch her lift her legs onto his shoulders I’m sure is his normal modus operandi.

Well, this girl is a little different. Number one, I’m here for work and I have a job to do. Number two, I don’t just sleep with any super hot football player, and number three, even if I am going to sleep with him, even if I want to so much I feel like my ovaries are going to explode every time he looks at me, I’m not going to it just for a bit of fun.

I might if this wasn’t Alex Vann Haden, but because it is, and because he’s so arrogant with it, I really don’t want to give him the satisfaction of feeling like he’s conquered me and I’ve had to give in to his charms.

Even if it were true, that would be enough to swell his head so much the island might sink. No. Even if resisting is torture. Even if he proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that he actually seriously likes me, that he’s not just dicking around and wants to pleasure me and make me feel good, he’s going to have to grovel to make it happen.

He’s going to have to prove that it’s not just for his benefit, but for mine too, and before all of that, he’s going to have to open up and prove he’s not just one dimensional.

All I’m getting at the moment is
one track mind
and very little else. Alright, there isn’t much time I don’t think about what I’d like to be doing to him, or have him do to me, but that’s different. At least my desire is genuine.

“You’re going to be hard work.”

“It was an accident.”

The look he gives me suggests he doesn’t believe me for a minute.

“Is there more ice?”

“Don’t worry about it. Maybe we should take a swim instead.”

“Or ask some questions.”

“I thought we already were.”

“I’m still a little fuzzy on the answers.”

I sip my champagne and hold his gaze. Even with the late summer sun, those board shorts don’t stay wet for long.

“Alright, let’s go over it again.”

I watch him pace from one side of the boat to the other, his steps measured, the action hypnotic.

“Name?”

“Alex Vann Haden.”

“Parents?”

“Divorced.”

“Relationship with your father?”

He stops to look at me. “Is this necessary?”

I shrug and rifle through the strawberries looking for a big juicy one to place between my lips. An act of theatrical indifference, a flirtation tool. Alex carries on pacing.

“Normal. Ups and downs.”

“Mother?”

“Better. I don’t see her a lot now.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“Promise me that after this, we go for a swim.”

“I haven’t brought my bathing costume.”

“Then I promise I won’t look.”

“You can’t make a promise that your eyes can’t keep.”

“Then you’ll just have to get your own back.”

“Brothers and sisters?”

“You already know this.”

“Then tell me something I don’t know.”

“Have you ever considered a career in psychology?”

“I have to ask questions if I’m going to know what to write, and you have to tell me the truth if you want me to do what you’ve asked.”

Alex pauses to wet his lips with champagne, takes the strawberry I have in my hand and places it mischievously between his teeth. An act of indifference, a flirtation tool. Eyes like gemstones shimmering in the sizzling sun.