Chapter Six
~AUGUST~
“Ijust want to say that this team is truly something special. I am blessed to be a part of this organization. The Blaze is really coming into its own. This is the breakout season that no one could have predicted, and it’s all because of all of you.
” I stand there on the bar stool, looking out over all the members of the team that came out tonight.
I see my friends over in the corner, grinning back at me.
Who would have thought that the boyfriends of soccer players that I manage would befriend me and not see me as the stuck-up boy whose daddy handed him a soccer team to manage?
But Danny, who dates Mac, my center striker, has become a close friend of mine.
As has Jase, the English goalie coach that I was lucky enough to hire.
Jase dates our mid-fielder Cassie. The friend I still talk to from college, Dexter Langley, came down here to be the team’s trainer after running away from a marriage that was left in ruins due to his infidelity, ended up dating my injured center back.
My father hates the optics of it all, but it works somehow.
“Let’s have some fun tonight and tomorrow we get back to work on making this playoff run one of the best!
Cheers to all of you and your hard work.
Go Blaze!” I say, toasting my glass. I’m met with a chorus of cheers.
I can tell that some of it is genuine and some of it is because I bought the round that they are all drinking.
I hop down and rejoin my friends at our usual table.
“So is your father stoked for a change?” Danny asks me quietly as he watches Mac, Cassie, Hendrix and Amelia giggling about something.
I chuckle. “You would think that he would be. But he just said that anything less than a playoff run would have been unacceptable.”
Danny shakes his head. “Has he not seen the media coverage? The Blaze is the only team that has made a playoff run in their inaugural season in ten years. It’s rare for a team that started out the way these girls did to make the playoffs.”
I nod. “I know that, but you know Maxwell Cromwell isn’t easily impressed with the things that I do.
He has expectations that would rival a dictator’s.
So, nothing that I do is ever quite good enough.
” The words slip out before I can stop them.
It’s not something that I like to admit to my friends.
But I must have enough whiskey in my system to make me say things that normally I wouldn’t.
Danny claps me on the back. “You did plenty, August. Just accept that while he may not see it that way, the rest of us do.”
“Thanks, man, but I didn’t do anything. It was all of them,” I say, turning my attention of where Danny is watching.
The girls are standing there swaying their hips to the beat.
“It’s time to dance,” I say, rising from my chair and pulling him with me.
“Ladies, let’s take this party to the dance floor. ”
The suggestion is met by cheers from the ladies.
Jase, Danny, Dex and I follow them to the dance floor.
All of them have someone to dance with, expect for me.
Hendrix and I are the only two that are not attached in this little group that we have created.
Sometimes, it makes it awkward, like right now.
I’d love to go over to her and pull her close to me.
Let our bodies sway to the music just like the others.
But I don’t. I can’t.
She would have my balls hanging off a silver platter because she is so angry at me. Every once in a while, I get a glimpse of my Hendrix, the girl that I dated back at UNC. But it’s almost like she realizes and slams a steely wall up so high that I can’t even begin to scale it.
I attempt to dance with no one. It’s what I normally do.
Hendrix does the same thing. We’re used to this little routine that we have to do.
Dancing when we are the only two that don’t have a partner but refuse to partner up.
I move a bit to the beat, standing near the couples that are lost in the music.
But I can’t do it tonight. I don’t want to be dancing alone, and the icy stare that Hendrix gives me when I take a step in her direction has me backing off.
I leave the dance floor and head back to the bar, where I camp out for a bit.
I can still see everyone dancing, but the one person that I left without a partner is not there anymore.
I decide to let her go for a little while.
Let her be by herself before I seek her out.
And when I do, if she’s still alone, then I’ll try to join her.
Something I long to do more than I’d like to admit.
An hour later, I order two shots of tequila and decide to go in search of her.
The music pulses low, the kind that makes conversation feel like a secret. The team has taken over the whole bar and dance floor area. I make my way to the patio that is out back. We rarely hang out there. The Tampa heat makes it feel unbearable out there, but that’s where I find her.
Hendrix is nursing a beer, legs stretched out on a lounge chair as she stares out into the darkness behind the bar.
I place a shot down on the table where her beer rests. I lower myself to the lounge chair, sliding her legs over a bit so that I can perch on it.
“What do you want?” she asks me. There’s not the usual malice in her voice, so I decide to take that as a win for the night.
“You looked good tonight,” I tell her as I slowly spin my shot in my hand.
Hendrix picks her shot up and clinks her glass against mine. “We won. That’s what matters.”
We both take our shots and let the tequila burn our throats.
“You made three impossible saves. That last one—Jesus.” I shake my head and look at her in awe.
She shrugs. “Reflex.”
I study her for a moment. “You always downplay your brilliance, or is it just when I’m around?”
She turns to me. Her eyes are sharp. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not.” I hold up a hand, as if I’m surrendering. “I’m just… proud of you.”
I can tell that remark hit her harder than she wanted it to. I watch her throat bob as she swallows slowly. Hendrix picks up her beer and takes a long swig of it. “You don’t get to be proud. You left.”
“I know,” I say, avoiding her eyes.
Silence stretches between us, thick with everything that is left unsaid.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately,” I admit. “More when I drink. Which is probably why I’m here.”
She laughs, bitter and tired. “That’s healthy.”
“I didn’t come here to fight.”
“Then why did you come?” Hendrix sits up so that we are inches away from each other.
I look at her, studying her face, like I’m trying to see what has changed since the last time I was this close. “Because I miss you. And because I’m drunk enough to say it.”
Hendrix sighs. But she doesn’t walk away or throw her beer in my face. The tequila is warm in my veins and it’s making me bold.
I brush a stray strand of hair that slipped out of her ponytail off her face, “You’re still so beautiful.”
“And being alone with you is still so dangerous,” she says.
I lean in slowly. “Tell me to stop.”
She doesn’t.
Our kiss is messy—too many teeth, too much want—but I don’t care.
Her hands slide up into my hair and she pulls me close.
My hands find her waist, and I pull her onto my lap.
Her hips align with mine instantly, like it’s a reflex that we’ve done multiple times.
She moans when she’s settled. I run my hands up her back and keep exploring her mouth with mine.
We’ve found a rhythm of tongues and caresses.
I would say it’s like riding a bike, but nothing about us has ever been routine.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Hendrix finally says when she pulls back. She’s breathless and panting, just like I am.
“Are you sure? Because I feel like we should be doing this,” I say as I work to catch my breath.
She grins at me. It’s the first real smile that I’ve seen from her in a long time. And I know that she’s not going to be walking away from me.
“Okay, you win. We can keep doing this,” she says with a giggle. It’s soft, sweet and a sound that I haven’t heard for years.
“Thank god. Because I’ve missed having you in my arms like this.” I notice that there is a bit of uneasiness that passes through her eyes, but one blink and it’s gone.
She surprises me by saying, “We should get out of here.”
I pull back slightly and stare at her. “Are you sure?”
She giggles again and it causes my smile to grow. “No, not really, but yes. So let’s go.”
I chuckle. “Well, that’s incredibly clear.”
“I’m saying yes, August. Let’s go.” She stares at me, daring me to say no. “Don’t,” she whispers, but it’s not a warning. I can tell by the look in her eyes that it’s a plea even she doesn’t understand.
I lean in anyway, voice low and rough around the edges. “I’ve been trying not to want this. Not to want you.”
Her breath catches, she doesn’t pull back.
The moment erupts.
I cup her jaw gently with a bit of desperation that I can’t hide. She meets me halfway. The kiss hits fast—urgent, hungry, years of restraint breaking all at once. She grips the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, and I respond just as eagerly.
It’s a kiss that says we shouldn’t be doing this even as every part of us insists we’re doing this anyway.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, foreheads touching, the world rushing back in around us.
“We can’t stay here,” she murmurs. Her voice sounds surer than the first time she declared it.
I nod, eyes dark with everything I’m feeling. “Then let’s go.”
We stand—not thinking, not planning—just moving together toward the door, toward the night, toward whatever comes next.
The Backwoods is not far from my place, thankfully. I hold onto her hand the entire time. In the cab that we hail out front, throughout the short ride to my building. I never let go. If she’s finally going to let me touch her again, I’m not wasting a second.