Chapter 45
GRAYSON
It doesn’t happen often, but there are times when three of our teams are at the same opposing school at the same time. Today is one of those days.
We’re playing the number two ranked team in our division, while the women’s soccer team and men’s volleyball are here as well.
It means Selena’s here. We haven’t talked, we haven’t texted. It’s strange how tempted I’ve been to do both, but what reason could I possibly give?
She doesn’t care that I haven’t stopped thinking about her. She can’t possibly give a shit that I’m dreaming about her on a nightly basis. The truth is I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
Heat rips through me when I think back to the other night. Making her come on my hand, on my tongue. Tasting her sweet pussy while she was riding my face. I’d never done that. Seemed too personal, too intimate. Yet, I couldn’t get enough. It makes no fucking sense.
Running a hand through my hair, I’m fucking glad I’m not pitching today. Don’t think I’d be able to. Don’t have the right head space for it.
Dylan, one of our outfielders jogs out from the clubhouse and mentions that the girls are up 1-0. Wonder if he was watching the game back there.
“Have you seen Sammy’s sister?” he asks and my head snaps his way. I walk over, ready to shut down whatever stupid comment he’s about to make. “She’s a beast! That girl doesn’t give a fuck!”
“What’re you saying about my sister, guey?”
“Nothing bad,” Trevor smirks. “You don’t have to worry though,” he laughs, “G was on guard.”
Sammy gives me a strange look while I’m glaring at Trevor. Dylan doesn’t pay us any attention.
“I was saying that Selena stopped their striker—who’s twice her height! That other girl was pissed.”
Sammy smiles with pride. “Yeah, Sel does that.” He removes his catcher’s gear for his at bat. “We should head over once we’re done here. What do you say, captain?”
I shake my head.
“We haven’t been to a men’s volleyball game this season,” I remind him. Some of them groan.
“But it’s a must win for the girls!” Dylan argues. “If they win, they’re going to playoffs. If they lose there’s a possibility they’re out!”
“How do you know this?” Sammy asks.
Dylan stutters something about being a soccer fan.
“I think Dylan’s a Selena fan,” Trevor laughs, ruffling the freshman’s hair.
“I just think she’s really pretty,” Dylan admits, stepping behind Trevor when Sammy charges at him.
“Get your head in the game!” I snap, having heard enough. I swallow the bile rising in my throat. I know I have no claim on her, doesn’t mean I want to hear this shit.
By the time our game ends 2-1 in our favor, we learn the volleyball team has lost. My head is spinning. It’s not a good idea for me to watch her play, yet I drag my ass to the soccer stadium along with the others. None of us waste any time changing, so we’re all still in our uniforms.
As we search for seats, I notice a small cheering section for our girls. The green hoodies, TLU shirts, and Lion hats stand out among the sea of orange.
When we get there, Selena’s in the back field, focused on the ball in the middle. A redhead whose name I don’t know, passes to Jess.
Defenders from the other team press on her. Jess has no option, but to turn around and pass it back. The center defender kicks it to Selena, who drives the ball up the line. The boys start cheering, none louder than her brother.
“That’s fucking right! Go, Sel, go!” he cries, jumping up and down while he cheers her on.
It’s mesmerizing watching her. The ball seems glued to her feet. She moves right and left with ease. When she jukes a midfielder at the halfway line, she continues with determination, driving the ball toward the goal. She’s fast, in control, fucking impressive. Of course she is.
Not only is she one of the team captains, she’s a starting defender for a D1 soccer program.
The defending national champions. This season she has 10 goal involvements and 20 clean sheets—stats that I had to look up to understand.
But reading about her highlights is nothing like watching her live. Why isn’t she playing after college?
Selena sends a beautiful cross to Jess near the top of the box. Jess shoots and scores!
Chaos erupts in our section. We’re jumping, high-fiving, and fans hug each other. I’m tempted to jump over the rows of seats in front of me simply to be closer to her.
“Go Lions!!” people chant. I join them, but I’m more focused on her than doing our six-count.
I watch her celebrate with her teammates.
I want to celebrate with her. I want to celebrate her.
Her talent and her effort, not just the assist. And not just on the pitch, but off it too.
I want to celebrate her wins and make her forget any loses.
I want to be the first person she calls when something goes right and the person she turns to when something goes wrong.
And I know right then and there that I am so fucked.
The match resets, the other team gets the ball. There’s passing back and forth between the other players, but I’m watching her. Dylan was right, she’s much smaller than the striker she’s defending. It doesn’t make a difference. Selena steals the ball, sends it to a midfielder.
“That one girl, she hates Selena,” I hear Sammy tell Troy.
“Why?” Trevor asks as he throws a handful of popcorn on his mouth. When did he get that?
“Because that girl’s the leading goal scorer in the country, but she’s never scored against us.”
“Ooh, I’d be pissed too,” Troy laughs.
The fact I’m concerned while listening intently, is a problem. I cannot be invested. There’s nothing to gain. I should go. And I should stay away from her from now on.
“I’ll be on the bus,” I tell them.
“Bro, what?”
Trevor shakes his head. “G, there’s less than five minutes left.”
“It’s almost over,” Sammy mutters.
They’re right. It’s not that big a deal. My leaving draws more attention anyway.
TLU is about to score again, but my eyes are exactly where they shouldn’t be. I can’t stop myself. I’m too busy staring at the way her uniform clings to her delectable curves to join in the celebration of another goal scored. Those hips, that sweet ass. Fucking hell, my dick’s getting hard.
I clear my throat, adjusting myself as discreetly as possible.
Her high ponytail swings. I can’t help wanting to wrap it around my hand as I picture her on her knees in front of me. That’s not fucking helping!
“Did you fucking see that?!” Trevor howls and I nod in agreement even though I missed the play.
The stunning smile overtaking Selena’s pretty face as she’s hugging her teammates has me fighting back a smile of my own.
Big Mike shoves my shoulder. “It is not polite to stare,” he says, smirking when I meet his eyes.
I don’t bother correcting or contracting him. He caught me and I need to get my shit together.
Schooling my expression, I follow the ball, but inevitably my gaze returns to the defensive line.
I happen to look over in time to see the leading scorer they were just discussing earlier, dribble with the ball.
Selena bodies up, but before she can attempt to make a move to steal the ball, the girl throws a vicious elbow at Selena’s face.
I watch her head snap to the side. I watch her go down and I fucking freeze.
No.
I feel sick. Nausea and concern roll through my stomach.
“What the fuck was that?!” Sammy yells.
People are cursing and yelling. It gets worse when the ref gives the girl a yellow card.
“That should be a fucking red!”
I sprint down the stairs, shoving people out of my way. Squeezing behind the bleachers, I try to go through security at the gate.
“Stop him!” Huge arms hold me back. “What are you doing?! There’s a game going on,” someone barks at me.
“That’s—she’s—I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“You can’t go on the field.”
Another security guards grabs me when I try to fight them off. There’s three on me now.
“If you run out there, you forfeit their game,” one tells me.
I don’t know if that’s true or he’s lying to me, but I won’t risk their season. So I stop struggling, feeling utterly useless and helpless.
Near the goalpost, Jess pushes that fucking asshole striker into the net. Refs blow their whistles. Selena hasn’t moved.
Terror grips my heart when I spot blood covering half her face. Coaches and players surround her. Teammates are urged to back up. The stadium is eerily quiet. She still hasn’t moved.
I can’t breathe, I can’t think, can’t do anything except stand here and watch an electric golf cart roll onto the field.
My heart’s pounding and I’m ready to fight all three men holding me back when an ambulance enters the stadium.
It drives towards her and that’s the moment her hand moves.
A tsunami of relief and gratitude hits me so hard I stumble out of the security guards’ grasp.
On the field, Selena tries to sit up, but they hold her down. Someone’s checking her eyes, her neck. I think she’s nodding. Air fills my lungs again when her lips move.
There’s a stretcher. Selena’s strapped in. Into the ambulance she goes and off it drives out of the stadium.
The crowd claps. It’s that soft clapping, signaling an injured player has made it off the field.
I feel cold. Like I need to hurl. Where are they taking her? I need to find out.
“Yo, Gray, thought you bounced,” Sammy says as I’m coming out of the medical tent. I wonder how it’s possible for him to look and sound so calm.
We walk back to the bus together. Trevor and Troy catch up. Letty and Big Mike join us soon after.
“Have you heard from your sister?” I ask when I can’t stay quiet any longer. The only thing I found out was the name of the hospital the ambulance might’ve gone to.
“Doctor says it’s a concussion,” Sammy replies.
Fuck.
“When’d you talk to her?” Letty asks before I can.
“Couple minutes ago.”
I can’t resist checking my phone. There’s no missed calls, no text messages waiting.
“She’s going to need stitches for that cut.”
My stomach drops. I hate to think about how much pain she’s in.
“What else did she say?”
Sammy gives me a strange look. “Not much. It was like a three second conversation. Which reminds me, I’m supposed to call our parents.”
He walks ahead, phone at his ear. The others are talking among themselves.
Nausea swirls in the pit of my stomach as I grab my phone and type up a text.
Then, delete the message. Type it up again only to end up deleting everything.
Irritated with myself and everyone else, I slip the phone in my back pocket.
The bus ride back to campus seems to take months. It’s a never-ending forty minutes, more than ample time to drown in my thoughts.
I know I can’t have what I want. The outcome of my life was decided the moment I was born.
Heir to father’s fortune. His empire mine, granted by fate.
Doesn’t matter that I’ve never wanted it.
Doesn’t matter that I want different things.
I have no choice. As the first born son, my duty is to him regardless of what I want, which is why I decide against calling or texting or reaching out.
When Sammy tells us he just spoke to his sister and she’s going to be okay, everyone on the bus cheers. Everyone except me. The anguish in my chest lessens, but more importantly, I make a promise to myself that I will stay away. I have to.