5. It’s Gettin’ Hot In Here
5
It’s Gettin’ Hot In Here
Clayton
W ell, fuck me.
Rocky and I are ten minutes away from finishing our first successful practice as partners. After an hour of grueling drills, Coach had us scrimmage against Prescott and Chad again, seeing as they’re the only other senior team . I knew the moment they walked onto the other side of the court they thought it was going to be a repeat of last time.
Well, it turns out when Rocky and I aren’t at one another’s throats, we’re actually… good. No. Not just good. We have the potential to be unstoppable.
I’m not sure what kind of voodoo magic the universe is working on us, but I do know that I have never, and I mean never, had a doubles partner with whom I clicked this effortlessly with on the court.
Of course, it had to be Rockwell Campos, the one person who can’t seem to stand the sight of me off the court.
Chad’s jump serve echoes through the gym as it bolts across the court. In rapid succession, I receive it in the back row while Rocky automatically moves toward the net. My pass finds his hands beautifully, and, like he can read my mind, Rocky quickly sets to the outside just in time for me to hit a perfect line hit.
Prescott barely has time to react as he dives for the ball, but he’s nowhere near quick enough.
Side out.
And neither Rocky nor I had to utter a word.
Voodoo magic, I’m telling you. Like, whatever witch has our dolls… keep it up.
The last ten minutes of practice go on like that, and I grow increasingly more amused as Prescott and Chadwick become increasingly more agitated.
Serves them right for getting cocky .
After such an intense practice, all of us forgo the weights for the day and head straight to the locker room once Coach dismisses us. With a pretty satisfied smirk on his face, might I add.
Prescott and Chadwick hightail it out of the locker room like their asses are on fire while Rocky and I take our time showering and getting changed.
I’ve just thrown my shirt on when I hear my phone ring inside my duffle. Sitting on the bench, I pull my cell out to find a call from Chloé, one of my usual hookups. I groan inwardly, not wanting to accept the call. Every time the two of us hook up, she expects it to become something more than what it is when I have explicitly told her several times that I’m looking for nothing more than casual.
1 It’s no secret to anyone that I’m a perpetual flirt. I enjoy indulging in both men and women, and I am not ashamed or embarrassed to admit it, much to my father’s absolute horror. Everyone I hook up with knows the score… except Chloé.
But I’m a sucker, so I accept the call anyway.
I put it on speakerphone and set it on the bench next to me so I can tie my tennis shoes.
“Clay, baby! What are you doing tonight?” Her bubbly voice pierces through the silent locker room.
Not your, baby. But alright.
“Hey, Chlo. Not much, probably staying in to study.” I actually don’t have shit to study for this week, but the last thing I want to do is go out and party with her. All I really want is to lay in bed and watch New Girl reruns until I pass out.
“Boo! Come out with me! I haven’t seen you in weeks, and I miss you.”
I’m just about to politely decline again when I look up from tying my shoe to find Rocky glaring daggers at me again. But it’s different this time. It’s not his usual, “God, Clay. You’re so fucking annoying” look. It’s something darker. Deeper.
Is he… jealous?
Let’s test it, shall we?
“Actually, you’re right. I miss you too.”
No, I don’t.
Rocky clenches his jaw so hard I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack.
Holy. Shit.
I’ve seen men and women look at me that way enough to know that look like the back of my hand. Rockwell Campos is jealous.
Oh my god… this is amazing .
Focus, Clay.
“Yay!” Chloé squeals through the phone. “Okay, perfect. Pick me up at eight.” I won’t. I’m going to call in an hour and tell her I don’t feel good. “We can go to dinner before we hit up the house party over at…” The rest of what she’s saying fades into the background as I watch Rocky grip the bench so hard his knuckles turn white.
“Sounds good, Chlo.”
No idea what she just said.
“I’ll make sure to wear that black lace piece you like.” My eyes lock with Rocky’s, and I shoot him a wink. I can practically feel the anger radiating off of him in waves so hot they would burn me if I could reach out and touch them.
With a grin a mile wide, I answer, “Perfect. I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”
No, you won’t.
With my eyes still locked on Rocky’s, I slide my phone into my shorts pocket, sling my duffle over my shoulder, and walk toward the door. But not before stopping right in front of him on my way out.
Raising my hand, I run it across his heaving chest, lean in, and whisper, “Jealousy looks good on you, Rockwell.”
With an ego the size of the Grand Canyon, I walk away and yell over my shoulder, “See you Monday, partner!”
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