Chapter 4
Hayes
I check my phone for the third time today. I’ve been up since five this morning. It’s another winter training day for the football team to keep in shape for our spring games that start in only a few more weeks.
We might only have a handful of scrimmages starting in March, but if I’m going to make this work, I need to be ready. I’ve never had this kind of pressure on me when I was out on the soccer field because I was a midfielder. I had the team around me and we jointly had responsibility for the ball.
Now, as a kicker, all eyes are on me when the time comes. It’s my sole responsibility to ensure my kicks are accurate.
I press my feet against the platform on the machine and grunt as I lift several hundred pounds with my legs. Returning the weight to the ready position, I relax as I hear the clang of the weights dropping at the machine next to me.
“Shit, bro. That’s a lot of weight,” Hendy says with a whistle.
I pat my quads and laugh. “Well, I didn’t get these from just jumping rope, I can tell you that.”
Since I no longer have to be counted on to run, I’ve felt the need to bulk up even more now that I’m playing football. With soccer, I wanted lean muscles and stamina in order to sustain myself on a field for the duration of the game, but not with football. Here, I need to have muscle and reliability. God, I hope I can pull this off.
This was never my dream, but apparently the universe decided to dictate the trajectory of my life.
And who the hell knew that by doing so I’d have met Kelsie and then found her again at this college. Fucking universe has a maniacal sense of humor.
“I can’t wait to see you out on the field when we start regular spring practices after the break,” Hendy says with a grin as he slings a towel over his shoulder. “We’ll see if those calves and quads of yours live up to the hype.”
He snaps me with the towel across my thigh with a chuckle and then strides off to the PT room. It’s a bummer I won’t be playing officially with these guys next fall because most of them will be graduating in the spring.
This coming fall will be my first season as a kicker. It gives me anxiety that none of my teammates know I’ve never played on a football team before. Only Coach knows of my lack of experience because he’s the one who recruited me through a series of discussions with my former soccer coach. He brought me in during this semester to begin training with the team during our spring sessions and also has most of the graduating players staying on through the end of the semester.
Coach had seen me play soccer by happenstance when he came to Colorado to watch his nephew play on an opposing team. He came up to me afterward and inquired about my interest in playing football. I thought he was nuts, but after further discussion and after determining whether or not I was even eligible, Coach offered me a kicker position to start this year.
It was Holden who encouraged me to take him up on the recruitment offer. And out of a sense of obligation to my brother, who could never play again and said he’d never pass up an opportunity like this, I accepted.
And here I am.
My phone pings and I look down.
Holden: I’m fine. Stop mothering me. No, actually, you’re way worse than Mom.
I smile sadly. Although it seems like he’s having a good day today with his banter and humorous response, that can change from minute to minute. His mood swings are difficult to anticipate and have put a strange division in our relationship.
Me: Dude, there is no way I’m worse than Mom. Remember that time she wanted to tape the thermometer to your forehead after surgery?
I see the three little dots and I wait.
Holden: True. Okay, I concede. Stop Dadding me.
I chuckle loudly and draw the attention of another guy across the room. Reading his funny reply lifts my own mood.
It’s as though I’m talking to the former version of my brother, my twin who was once fun and carefree. The guy who wouldn’t take shit from anyone and always made me laugh.
God, I miss that person.
Me: Fair enough. You win.
Holden: No shit I win. Your attempt to win was pathetic. What the hell are you even learning at CFU?
Me: Oh, wait… I’m supposed to learn something here?
Holden: Yeah, something like that.
Me: Noted.
I slip my phone in my gym shorts pocket and walk over to the only open treadmill along the wall of the fitness room. Time to cool down.
Next to me on my right is Killian, the big dude everyone calls Killer. I can see why that name is fitting. I bet he kills it out on the field as the tight end. He has earbuds in his ears, but when I step onto the machine, I give him a nod of hello and start a light jog, increasing my pace to keep up with him. Once I’m there, he pulls a bud out of his ear and greets me with an easy smile. For such a massive brute of a guy, he’s pretty laidback and nice. And he didn’t punch me the other night for what happened between Kelsie and me. That’s saying something.
“Hey bro,” he says, slowing down his pace a little. “You ready for classes this week, FNG?”
“FNG?”
He claps me on the back with a laugh. “Yeah, you know. Fucking new guy.”
I chuckle because I’ve never heard anyone say that to me before. Maybe because I’ve never been the fucking new guy.
“I guess so. At least I was able to get in most of the classes I wanted to take. I was a little worried because a few of my credits didn’t transfer from my previous school, which means next year I’ll have to take more. That’ll suck, since I’ll have senioritis,” I answer, slowing the machine down to a slower jog.
“Yeah. I feel ya there. We’re all seniors this year and I’m fucking lucky with the independent study classes I have. I can coast into graduation,” Killer says with a broad grin, gesturing with the swoop of his arm. He glances over at me. “So, where’d you play ball before this?”
I falter a little with my steps and wipe my brow. I decide to keep it low-key and generic to avoid the topic of my soccer playing versus football. “Colorado.”
“Cool. I’m from Iowa. Got any siblings?” he asks, as if we’re just shooting the shit and not getting through a workout. What the hell type of twenty questions is this?
“A brother,” I answer a little hesitantly, wishing my time was counting down faster.
“Younger or older?”
Shit. I always hate answering this one. Now that everything’s happened between me and Holden, it’s even more complex. It just adds more questions that I don’t want to answer.
“We’re twins, actually,” I say a little reluctantly, glancing at the dashboard timer on my treadmill. Two more minutes to go.
“No way! That’s so cool, man. What’s that like? Are you identical? Do you have that twin-to-twin telepathy shit or something?”
Killer suddenly stops walking, taking the other bud out of his ear and turning his full attention on me as if I’m some kind of circus animal. It’s always like this. I could probably guess his next five questions.
One will definitely be if we have our own language and because he’s a college dude, he’ll ask if we’ve ever shared a girl.
He leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Ever shared a girl?”
Nailed it. If only I had a dollar for every time I get these questions, I’d be a freaking millionaire.
“No. We don’t really have the same type.”
“Oh, bummer. How about a secret language?” he prods.
And there it is.
“Nah. Not that either.” If we did, maybe I could help my brother out of his darkness. Instead, I have to just sit back and watch as he continues to spiral.
My timer beeps on the machine and I thank the time gods for the interruption so I can leave this awkward conversation behind. “Well, off to shower. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sure. See you later, Mac,” Killer says with a wave, but then hesitates before latching onto my arm to stop me. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“Yeah?”
He clears his throat. “Hey, I don’t know what the deal is with you and Kelsie Dannon, but be careful there. She’s one of us, ya know?”
The warning is clear—don’t fuck with her or I’ll be sorry.
I nod my head. “Got it. Thanks.”
I hurry into the locker room to shower and dress so I can get back to my place to finish putting together the bookshelf I bought.
Although I was told the room was furnished when I rented it online, I found it was a little lacking for what I needed. Overall, though, the house is quiet, close to campus, and although I have to share a bathroom with someone, it’s right next door to my bedroom, so there’s at least that.
I’ve never had to share anything with anyone else besides Holden. This will be a unique experience. I was told I get one shelf in the fridge and one cabinet in the kitchen, but I’m free to use the kitchen anytime I like. There’s also a decent size television and sofa in the family room and the back yard is actually pretty nice. There’s a big deck, a hot tub, and even a fire pit that all looks out over the mountains and nature preserve.
It reminds me a lot of home. Whether that’s a good thing or not is yet to be determined.
I’ve finished getting ready and I’m just about to leave when Hendy notices me and waves me over. He’s pulling a sweatshirt over his head that reads CFU Football.
“Hey, Mac, a few of us are grabbing breakfast at the diner on Main Street after this if you want to come along,” he offers.
Shit, I do and I don’t. I appreciate that our team captain is making an effort to include me on things off the field, given what went down the other night with one of his friends. But he seems to have moved on from that and accepted me into the fold.
Or it could be one of those situations of keeping your friends close and your enemies closer.
I consider his offer and sling my bag over my shoulder. “Yeah, that’d be cool. I can stop by for a few minutes. Then I gotta get my place sorted out. It’s a mess.”
Hendy laughs like what I said is funny. “Dude, you’re in college. It’s supposed to be a mess!”
I open the locker room door and he follows me out. Once in the hallway, he throws an arm around my shoulder and I instinctively know what’s coming next.
The talk.
“So, what’s up with you and Kelsie?” he asks, not in the same serious tone Killer used, but the implication is still there. I get it. They’re protective over their girl and I think that’s cool. She has good friends in them.
Although I don’t really want to talk about things until I clear the air with Kelsie, I also can’t shut him down either. That’d be rude when I’m the new guy and trying to make friends with him and my teammates.
“Yeah. Kelsie and I happened to be in Paris in the same program last semester,” I answer, trying to keep my explanation as short as possible and leave it fairly open-ended. He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he can connect the dots and figure out Kelsie and I hooked up.
He whistles again, raising an eyebrow. “Kelsie’s a tough one, dude. She’s hot as fuck, but does her own thing. No one around campus—not even me—has been able to tame that one. She’s like those wild horses you hear about. She doesn’t let many get close to her. If she likes you, she really likes you. If not, she’ll fucking let you know it.”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to make me feel better or not. What does come as a relief is that it sounds like Hendy never slept with Kelsie.
I feel my jaw unclench and my hands relax. Or did he hook up with her? If so, I want to flatten him to the ground.
“Um, did you guys hook up or something?”
Hendy stops and turns to me, looking me over as if deciding whether to trust me or not. His lips finally curve up at the corners. “Nah, not that way. We’re just good friends. But don’t tell anyone that because I have a reputation to keep,” he says with a laugh as we turn a corner and walk up the steps to the diner. “But God help the guy who finally captures that girl. She will take him for the ride of his life and probably buck him off before she finally gives in all the way.”
I grab the handle and open the door to the diner, allowing Hendy to walk in before me as I follow behind, considering what he said. Am I the first guy she’s had a relationship with? Am I the guy who captured her heart?
If so, the thought has me both brimming with confidence and feeling the massive remorse of hurting her.
“Hey, Sherrie!” Hendy calls out to a woman behind the counter as we enter the restaurant. “A full breakfast for me and my friend here will have…”
“Oh, uh, can I get a bagel with eggs, bacon, and cheddar to go, please?” I ask.
“Sure thing, sugar,” Sherrie says. “Coming right up.”
Hendy takes a spot in a booth and I slide in on the other side to wait for my to-go order. Sherrie stops over with a pot of coffee, filling up the empty cup in front of Hendy and looking to me for confirmation. I shake my head.
As she walks away, Hendy takes a sip and then lifts his brows at me.
“Just so you know, it sounds like Kelsie is pretty pissed at you and things could get a little complicated because both Killer and EJ date her best friends.”
Nodding slowly, I try to figure out where he’s going with this. I toy with the napkin sitting on the table as he continues.
“I’d hate to have to ban you from the football house, but the girls are threatening us to do it.”
He shakes his head and then gives a wave to a few other players who walk into the diner and then get seated a few tables away.
“Were you and Kelsie together together in Paris?” he asks, as something flashes in his eyes. Is it jealousy? Or just concern?
Before I can respond, Sherrie returns to our table with a small paper bag in hand. “Your sandwich.”
I toss down a ten. “Thanks, Sherrie. I’ll probably be here for dinner again too.”
“Anytime, son.”
I scoot out of the seat to exit the booth, thankful that the food was ready so quickly and we don’t have to continue this conversation.
“So…is she yours?” Hendy asks, grabbing my arm before I leave.
I want to laugh at the complexity of that question. I want to scream, “Yes, she’s mine and I want her back!”’
But, instead, I simply shake my head and say, “No.”
Because she’s not mine anymore and probably never will be again.
“Good to know. Take it easy, bro.”
I nod and walk out with my breakfast in hand even though I don’t feel the least bit hungry. Suddenly, I’m left wondering how many guys Kelsie has been with. I know it shouldn’t matter because we’re not together, but it still stabs at my gut. I need to get back to my place so I can decompress and turn off my thoughts for a few minutes.
Hell, I don’t want to think about anything, especially who she may or may not have hooked up with besides me. I just want to do a mindless activity for a few minutes and avoid having thoughts of Kelsie roaming free in my head.
Buttoning up my coat and throwing my hoodie over my head, I walk down the tree-lined street the three blocks from the diner and end up at the big, old house I’m calling home this semester.
As I attempt to enter the four-digit code into the keypad while juggling my breakfast in my other hand, I let out a sigh of relief when out of the corner of my eye I see someone opening up the interior vestibule door and then the exterior. I lift my eyes, ready to introduce myself to one of my housemates and say thanks, when my gaze lands on the last person I expect to see.
The next ten seconds happen as if in slow motion.
In front of me on the threshold of the doorway, looking hot as fuck, stands Kelsie. She has on a pair of bright pink leggings and a cropped black top with sports bra straps showing from under the neckline. Her hair is piled high on her head in a ponytail and she wears a pair of earpods.
Because her eyes are cast down at her phone as she fiddles with it, she hasn’t noticed me standing here yet. But the minute she slips the phone into a pocket in her leggings and raises her head, her eyes meet mine and we both freeze.
We stand three feet apart from one another, but I swear I can hear her heartbeat loud and clear. She’s a step above me, putting her nearly at my eye level. I watch those big blue eyes grow wide from shock and a myriad of other emotions.
Until she yanks an earbud from her ear and anger creases her forehead, her mouth slanting in a frown. “What the hell are you doing here, Hayes?”
“Kelsie?” I ask, incredibly confused as to why she’s leaving my house. I point stupidly at the door behind her. “I live here.”
She blanches. “Bullshit. No, you don’t. I live here,” she says, pointing to herself.
Well, shit on a brick.
Things just got a whole lot more awkward.