Rooster: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (32 page)

She’s looking at this whole
me and her
thing way too seriously for my liking. Way too seriously than is healthy to be a hundred percent honest with you. A kiss is only a kiss and a fuck is only a fuck, what happens afterward are the important things. I’m not going to mess her around, that’s not my style and I’ve already told her that, but if we both like each other, and I’m certain she likes me even if she’s refusing to admit it, what’s the issue with getting down and dirty? Ok, maybe we find out we’re not compatible, so what, at least we’ll have had fun working that bit out. If she’s just cutting off her nose to spite her face, deciding not to give it up because she doesn’t want me to be right, well that’s just childish.

I’m not prepared to let her walk away either, not without openly admitting she doesn’t like me. She can vacillate all she wants, as long as she ends up coming back to me, what I won’t stand for is her being so proud she ends up refusing herself what she wants.

And I’m in the same boat here. Literally and figuratively. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the long run, I just know I like her. I didn’t know I still would before I invited her here, and I do genuinely want her to write that article on me, but when she stepped onto my island it was like going back in time.

I just need to work out how to get her into bed now, which shouldn’t be too hard for a man like me, with a storm coming, a bottle of wine on the table, and a compact double bed for us both to sleep in.

After tonight is over, she may not want to go back to the house at all. She might not even want to get back to her real life.

Lucy holds a thick juicy slice of sea bass out on her fork.

“This is good”, she says.

“Thank you.”

“Where did you learn to cook?”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“I can see you think that.”

I pour wine and Lucy appreciates how it warms her belly.

“I think you’re going to like being out here when the storm passes. I was going to suggest we did it one night but I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“Because that would be right out of character for you?”

“Because there’s only one bed.”

“Any more and I’ll be convinced you’re trying to seduce me.”

“You already know that. I’m just not being successful.”

“What does that feel like?”

“What does it feel like not to succeed?”

Lucy nods.

“It makes me even more eager to win next time around”, I say with a cocky smile.

This time, she smiles too. While the boat undulates gently from side to side and rain patters against the window, a hint of the ferocity I know is soon to follow, Lucy smiles and Lucy relaxes.

“I want to know you”, she says.

“Good.”

“I mean, I want to anyway, but I need to if I’m going to write about you, and that doesn’t mean, before you get the wrong idea, I want to know you immediately like that.”

“You know the only way you can do that is to spend time with me.”

“Ask the right questions.”

“Feel the answers.”

“You’re more cryptic than I thought you would be. Much more poetic.”

“What did you think I’d be like?”

“Driven, lacking self-awareness, a bit of a dick. A huge dick actually.”

“Well, let’s not beat around the bush.”

“Why are you shutting yourself away?”

A flash lights the sky by the side of us and brings with it a sheet of rain that sounds like pebbles being tossed against the window. It isn’t enough of a distraction for Lucy to forget the question she has asked me, though.

“People don’t like me”, I say eventually.

“Why don’t people like you?”

“Because they see the guy I am on the field and the guy I used to be in the press and they make up their mind.”

“You weren’t exactly likable.”

“Nobody likes someone like me.”

“And how is someone like you?”

“A born winner.”

“Now that is arrogant.”

“It’s the truth. If there is one thing I know how to do, it’s win. Fixing boats is another thing entirely.”

“At least you’re funny.”

“I’m not meant to be funny.”

“I know, but you are. I like it. It shows a fragile side to you.”

“I’m not meant to be fragile either.”

“No, but we all are.”

“If I am, I lose.”

“On the field.”

“In the game.”

“Not with me.”

“I’m not sure I can fix broken hearts either.”

“Then make sure you don’t break mine.”

I pour more wine. Lucy finishes the sea bass and I bring salad and potatoes.

“You have everything here. If I was even more cynical than I already am, I might think you’d contrived this to happen”, she says.

“Even for me that would be a stretch too far.”

“We’re not going to suddenly find the engine working after you’ve lured me to bed?”

I think Lucy notices the faux pas too late and then tries to hide her blushing by holding her wine glass with two hands in front of her face. I’m not going to let her off the hook so easily.

“We’re not going to look after I’ve lured you to bed”, I say.

“I meant-.”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t some elaborate plan, however, after I’ve lured you to bed, and you’ve refused countless times theatrically and then finally given in, and we fuck, spectacularly, of course-.”

“Because there is no other way?”

“-Because there is no other way, if, then, after that wonderful moment, all the stars of the northern hemisphere above us in their glory, the boat gently lilting from side to side, a smattering of rain all that’s left of the storm-.”

“Oooh, please, don’t stop.”

“-If I then happened to check the engine and found it able to work at that moment, because of some weird unforeseen and unexplainable coincidence, promise you won’t hold it against me.”

Lucy narrows her eyes.

“If that happens, all of that. I’m going to check the engine myself”, she says.

“Deal.”

“This could be a long night.”

“I’m glad you’re finally showing some belief in me.”

Suddenly, a thunderous whip of sound cracks the sky above us and shocks Lucy so much she screams and drops her wine glass. While she’s frantically apologizing and hunting for something to mop it up, the skies open up and empty a deluge of water on top of us that feels like Poseidon’s wave.

Right now, the storm is about to hit us and Lucy’s eyes couldn’t be any wider.

Lucy

I am genuinely fucking scared. Four years at college in Louisiana, none of which time I even set foot in the water.

I hate flying, I hate danger and I hate boats, probably even more than anything else. Alright, when a boat is doing nothing more than sitting on the top of the water I can handle it, but when it’s rocking from side to side like a cork in a washing machine, so much water hitting the roof and plate glass around us I can’t tell whether it’s from the rain or a biblical size wave, the sky opening up, first with forks of lightning that look like the world’s cracking in half, followed by thunder louder than any noise I’ve ever heard, I’m inclined to shit myself, just a little.

Alex, on the other hand, looks so comfortable he could be enjoying it. I stumble from side to side if I get up, feel even worse if I try and sit down.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“No, I’m not fucking alright.”

“It’ll pass.”

It doesn’t feel like it’s going to pass. I’ve seen films with people in this same situation and it never ends well. One minute you’re enjoying a lovely sunbathe and a swim in calm blue waters, the next, it feels like someone has transported you to the tempestuous waters at the gates of hell. Seriously. I’ve seen rapid weather changes before, but this? Nothing like this.

The boat creaks, shudders and threatens to split right open. Why the fuck does the engine not work? Who’s fucking idea was it anyway to come out here when a storm was due and why is Alex just sat there, glass of wine still in his hand looking at me like I’m a mad woman?

I could be literally anywhere else. We could be in his mansion on the island. We could be at one of his several other residences. We could even be at mine, drinking wine, chatting, flirting with each other, passing the time. Instead, we’ve got to be here hoping we don’t die.

I’m a strong woman but, fuck- suddenly a wall of water hits the boat with such force I lose my balance, trip and end up on top of Alex. Not by the side, not holding his arm to steady myself, but on top. Both of us sliding without grace and ending up on the floor a mess of arms legs and embarrassed looks.

“If you wanted to lie on top of me-”, he says calmly.

“Hey, that was gravity alright?”

The boat lurches, yawns and finally rights itself again. Out of the window, all I can see is water, and for all I know we could be underwater already.

I quickly peel myself away from Alex, even though in his arms is probably the place in which I feel the safest of all, but stay low, in case I tumble over again.

“Exciting, huh?”

Exciting? What the fuck is wrong with him? Alex live-on-the-edge-because-there-isn’t-enough-space-left-in-the-middle Vann Haden might be enjoying this, but I’m not. Then again, he might just be putting in on, like he’s got used to doing with pretty much everything in his life so far.

The last thing I want to do is let him see that I’m vulnerable. If I do that, he’ll think he’ll be able to protect me and get all manly, and then when this really is over he’ll think he’s done enough to create a connection. Not going to happen, no matter how much I’d like to be back in those arms and rested against that chest again. If I wasn’t shitting myself about the very real possibility that I could die out here in the middle of nowhere, without really having achieved anything at all with my life, I might allow myself a moment to enjoy this.

More rain hits the roof so loudly it feels like lumps of ice, while the wind picks up around us and howls like a baying dog.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me?” he says.

“Seriously? You’re asking me that question now?”

“Sure, when else am I going to ask you it?”

“When? I don’t know, never.”

“I told you, I’m direct.”

“I’m the one that’s supposed to be asking the questions.”

“You don’t look like you are capable of doing anything at the moment but shitting yourself.”

“I’m not shitting myself”, I say.

“I bet you don’t like amusement parks.”

“No-one likes amusement parks unless they are under the age of fifteen.”

Alex makes the short distance over to where I’m sort of lying, sort of cowering, and sits alongside me.

“We’re not going to die. This boat is super solid and storms always sound worse than they actually are anyway. We are going to be fine, and afterward, you’re just going to appreciate life even more”, he says.

“If we manage not to die in this storm, I’ll still be trapped on this boat with you.”

“Then you’ll just have to start trying to like me.”

“Fix the engine and I’ll like you even more.”

“Do you like the left-hand side of the bed or the right-hand side better? Or are you the kind of girl that starfishes out?”

“I like the couch.”

“You’re very serious.”

“This is a serious matter.”

Alex looks down at me with smoldering eyes. I never thought blue eyes could smolder, but somehow he manages it.

“What else are you scared of, you know, besides storms and football players?”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“No, you’re scared of you.”

Alex begins to crawl away, towards the kitchen area I think, or the bedroom, but my hand on his shorts pulls him back towards me. I’m not having him saying that and then thinking he can get away.

“How am I scared of me exactly?” I say.

“Because you deny yourself what you want in case something bad happens.”

I laugh. “Come on.”

“It’s true. You’re not alone, lots of people are like that. You’d rather not get hurt at all, and miss out on something you’ve always wanted, instead of saying
fuck it
, even if this goes so wrong I end up in a worse place than I was before, I’ll have at least tried everything I can for my happiness.”

“You don’t even know me, what do you think makes you so qualified to say that?”

“You’ve been showing me all day.”

“I’ve been showing you?”

“Those looks, the way you carry yourself, the way your skin bobbles up in goose pimples whenever I’m near you, the way your heart was trembling when you fell onto me.”

“That was-.”

“Yeah, gravity, I know. Sexy gravity throwing you at me and making your whole body burn with desire.”