Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance Page 5

  “Damn. Slater Oakridge, huh?” Ace crossed his arms, leaning against the wall next to the men's bathroom door. “I never pegged you as the corporate type, but that's crazy impressive.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” I smoothed my topaz-blue dress, my eyes meeting his apprehensively. “So, what brings you to Peachtree Gardens?”

  “I'm here for a meeting with some Vitamin Water execs for a sponsorship deal.”

  “A sponsorship deal?”

  “Ah, yeah. I play for the Jets – quarterback, second-string.”

  “The Jets?” I repeated, my jaw hanging. “As in, the New York Jets?”

  “Yep.”

  “I – my boyfriend's father owns the team.”

  His face darkened, a pucker forming between his thick, flat brows.

  “You're dating Xavier Dubois?”

  “I am. Have been for almost 2 years now.”

  Ace pushed himself off the wall, taking a calculated step towards me.

  “Listen, Brooklyn, maybe we should talk –”

  “I gotta go,” I turned away from him, my stomach fluttering. “Sorry, I've hung around long enough. I should get back to my table.”

  “Oh. Yeah, of course. You look good, Brooklyn. I'll see you around.”

  My bladder squeezed when I was halfway down the hall, but I kept on going, all the while viciously cursing under my breath.

  Chapter Eight: Ace

  2004

  “Bay, Bay, Valley High,

  Lions fired up, and we ready to fight,

  Bay, Bay, Valley High,

  Lions gonna take you down tonight!”

  The cheerleaders' high-pitched cries resounded through the field. I slipped my head under the long strap of my gym bag and peered over my shoulder. They flaunted their over-the-top spirit, kicking out their legs, pumping their fists, and making some pretty sweet jump-splits.

  When the girls disbanded, my eyes fell on the new cheerleader. She took off her ponytail and shook out her long, light-blonde hair. I scanned her up and down from afar, from the faint lines on her toned stomach to the graceful, tanned legs stretching out of her short black-and-gold skirt.

  I've seen her around school before. She was also a junior and one of the smartest girls in school – enrolled in AP courses, the debate team, the works. I've seen her hanging around with the dance club, too, so evidently, the girl does it all. Naturally, we barely crossed paths, besides Shop, which we had every other Wednesday at 2.

  I had to admit, I've always thought she was a stunner, but I've never been able to work up the courage to talk to her. This girl was filthy rich, fucking brilliant, and way out of my league. Put me in front of any other girl in school and I guarantee you I'll have her number by the end of 1st period, no problem. But this girl – man, she was something else. I never thought you could have a thing for someone without knowing anything about them.

  The girl waved goodbye to the other cheerleaders with her gold pompoms and began making her way towards the bleachers.

  Her friend, Tabitha, was waiting for her on the far end of the lowest bench. She was hunched over a thick wad of papers with her earphones plugged in and iPod in hand. As she did this, she took turns belting out some musical number and scribbling notes. This took up most of her time. She was this good-looking, but weird ginger goth chick that was regularly cast as the lead role for most of the school plays. The only reason I knew her name was because we had a bunch of classes together.

  “Yo, Ace, heads up!”

  The second I heard that whiz of the wind behind me, I pivoted. A hard, leathery object smacked right into my raised palms. I pitched the football back to Reggie, but by the time I'd turned back around, the bleachers were empty.

  “Thanks – that one got away from me there. The guys and I are gonna try and see if we can sneak in to watch EuroTrip. You in?”

  “Nah, I'm good. My dad's going on the road to Phoenix for about a week tomorrow, so I gotta have dinner with him tonight.”

  “That's too bad, bro. Heard this one's got some decent boobage.”

  “Dope. Have fun. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  I made a right on Brunswick Avenue and trudged down the sidewalk. Not only were the soles of my sneakers giving out, my big toe was threatening to bust out the front of my right shoe. Of all the days for my car to break down – and we were having such a promising week, too.

  As I walked through the cobblestone walkway of Finley Park, a slow-paced Usher track drifted into my ears.

  “Can you handle it, if I go there baby with you?

  I can handle it, I can go there baby with you...”

  When I glanced at the direction of the willow trees on my left, my feet stalled on their own. It was that new cheerleader. Only this time, she was alone. I shifted my gym bag behind me quietly.

  The girl had changed out of her cheerleading uniform, and was now wearing a black sports bra and gray yoga pants. On some level, I must have known I was creeping, but something about the way her body moved so fluidly and effortlessly to the music was downright hypnotizing.

  She rolled around on the floor before delicately picking herself up again, swinging out a leg as she twirled. Her loose hair whipped around her face, dancing along with her swaying head. As she danced, my eyes fixed on the clear outline of her juicy bubble-butt through her skintight pants. Blood surged to my cock.

  “Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to stare?”

  She walked over to the picnic table behind her, pausing the track on her CD player.

  “Sorry. I wasn't planning on it. You're really good,” I replied coolly, but my heart was racing.

  “Oh. Thanks.” She gazed back at me with her upturned, icy-blue eyes and a small smile. But that was enough to do it for me. “Thought this little spot would be perfect for a private freestyle session, what with all these trees and whatnot, but apparently not.”

  “You don't have to stop on my account. I was just leaving.”

  “I'm not. I may have already noticed you lingering in the back there for a minute or 2.” She lowered her eyes, gathering her hair away from her face and tying it up behind her. “But my parents are expecting me home for dinner. I'll see you around, Ace.”

  Holy shit – she knew my name. She grabbed her things and set off in the other direction, her CD player swinging in hand. She must have been a good 15 feet away before I finally caught myself. I made a triangle over my mouth with my hands and called out after her.

  “Wait, before you go – what's your name?”

  “Brooklyn! Brooklyn Cunningham!”

  Chapter Nine: Ace

  2016

  I leaned back against the row of coats behind me and reached around my waist, grabbing a handful of springy brown hair. Sharon gazed up at me, her cheeks puffing in and out rhythmically as she gobbled my cock. The cute freckles on her nose and cheeks glistened with sweat. Better yet, the wet smacks from her slobbering mouth filled the tight space of the room.

  I slipped my hand into the side of her dress that was hanging off her shoulder and palmed her swollen, creamy-brown titty. God, that was soft. Her tongue swirled around my head as she sucked me off, her brows snapped together and her longing hazel eyes peering up at me for approval.

  Sharon was in her zone. She was giving me some of her best work, but we've been in here for over 20 minutes. My dick was starting to feel raw. It was nothing against her, too – this girl was a solid 8 and she had a nice pair of pouty lips that were perfect for the occasion. But shit, with Brooklyn's face flashing in my head every 20 seconds, it was hard to keep focus.

  Sharon shifted on her knees and straightened up her back, exhaling deeply as she opened up her throat. She grasped my clenched ass cheeks, squeezing the head of my cock down the wet, narrow passage. My thighs started to slack. I stroked the back of her head encouragingly, shutting my eyes as I let the hot little vacuum of her mouth work its magic.

  Once again, Brooklyn's face faded in to my mind's eye. She wrapped her pink lips
around my cock, swiveling her tongue around my length in her dainty little mouth. Groaning, I thrust my hips forward, driving that cock deeper down her mouth...

  “Mm yeah, do you like that, baby?”

  The jarring, nasally voice barged in on my thoughts. My eyes peeled back. And when I saw Sharon batting her eyes at me, I felt myself starting to go soft. I backed away from her, ejecting before she could find out.

  “Something wrong?” Sharon scowled, wiping her smeared lipstick.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I zipped up my pants and adjusted my belt. “I just remembered I had to be somewhere.”

  “Right now?” She humphed, fixing her dress as I helped her off the floor.

  “Yeah, sorry. This was fun.” The words rolled out of my mouth automatically as I reached for the doorknob. “I'll call you later.”

  “But I didn't give you my –”

  I closed the door behind me and snuck away from the coat closet.

  I wasn't sure what came over me, but I sure as hell hoped it never happened again. I couldn't remember the last time I wasn't able to finish, especially not with this banging of a babe. Though in hindsight, I probably should have declined when she came rubbing up against me at the wet bar and spared us the awkward anticlimax I'd seen coming.

  Ever since my meeting with Dubois, I was off my game – both on the field and off it. This whole thing might have been less screwed up if he'd cut me from the team altogether. But he didn't. Instead, he sat me down for over 2 hours, expressing how concerned he was about me. We talked mostly about my “excessive drinking and partying habits,” and how my life was spiraling in a way that was uncannily similar to his Great Uncle Webster.

  I would've preferred that Dubois screamed at me and ripped me a new asshole, but he did none of that. He spoke calmly throughout the meeting, his voice never raised, but laden with disappointment. I could feel the exhaustion coming off his bleak eyes, and that shit hit me hard. The meeting ended with me promising him that I'd attend a couple of AA meetings – it was his ultimatum. If I so much as slipped a hair out of line, that was it for me. Don't get me wrong – I was beyond grateful, but deep down, I think I knew I didn't deserve any of this. It was so far past my second chance, I'd lost count myself.

  I grabbed a beer and blended into the crowd. We moved down one of the massive marble staircases that led to the mansion's Olympic-sized pool and light-up hot tubs. Ripped dudes and bikini-clad bombshells splashed around in the water. The rest danced around the open space, waving their drinks and glow sticks. From up here, it was like watching a hive of drunk fireflies.

  “Roll up to the party with my rims on fleek, rims on fleek, rims on fleek.

  Get your girl and her friend and we can freak all week, freak all week, freak all week...”

  When I got to the landing, I glowered at the DJ booth, taking a long swig of my drink. The piss-poor track was the spawn of Xavier, or X-Dawg, himself. You'd think a party of this caliber could have afforded a DJ with better taste. Or, the more likely scenario would be that he was here, too, and had paid off the DJ to promote some of his shitty “rap” music. This was just one of the multiple unfinished projects under Xavier's belt, all of which were sad, half-assed attempts to prove himself to his father. I would've never believed that Xavier and Marvin were in any way related, if it weren't for the fact that Xavier seemed to be the spitting image of what Marvin must have looked like 30-something years ago.

  “Hey, Warner!”

  Speak of the asshat.

  I lowered my beer and looked behind me. My eyes bugged out in surprise. Xavier pimp-walked over to me, his arm snaked around Brooklyn's waist. She wore a metallic green dress and tall heels, and her hair was pulled away from her face in an elegant bun. It's been over a decade, but it still took me a hot second to get over how beautiful she was.

  “Oh my goodness, Ace?”

  A woman in a lacy black dress joined them. She blinked at me, the dark makeup accentuating her smoky-brown eyes. It took me a while to recognize her with her red hair now pin-straight and streaked with gold.

  “What's going on.” I nodded at Xavier curtly. “Brooklyn. Tabitha. Y'all doing alright?”

  “Wait, how do you guys know each other?” Xavier demanded, his lips curved down in a grimace.

  “We're Bay Valley alumni,” Brooklyn answered hastily. She leaned away from him, tugging him in the opposite direction. “I'm getting kinda thirsty, why don't –”

  “Funny, I've never heard you mention Warner before.”

  Brooklyn's shoulders jerked, wincing as his grip around her waist tightened.

  “Whoa, dude, chill the fuck out – Brooklyn and I –” I took a step forward, my eyes flashing and my fists and teeth clenched. But when I detected the pleading look in Brooklyn and Tabitha's eyes, I backed off, relaxing my fingers. “Not that it should matter, but we took Chemistry together back in high school. There's nothing to it, so loosen up those panties before you bust a vein –”

  “Yo, you better watch your goddamn mouth, Warner. Just 'cause you got my old man wrapped around your finger, don't mean –”

  “Ace! I see you! You ain't going nowhere this time!”

  Shit – what now?

  The crowd behind me moved aside, clearing the path for the pissed-off pair of women. Sharon and Priya, some psycho I dated for 2 or 3 weeks a couple of years ago, stormed towards me. Behind me, Xavier clapped his hands slowly, cackling.

  “Ace!” Priya shrieked, stomping her glittery red shoes. “You better tell me who this stupid snaggle-toothed bitch is, before I –”

  “Hold the fuck up.” Sharon whirled around, shoving Priya in the chest. “Who the fuck you calling snaggle-toothed?”

  I started to jog over to them, but security beat me to it. 3 men in all black wrenched them apart before any serious damage could be done. The women flailed in the men's arms, air-clawing one another as they were escorted out of the premises. With them gone, the crowd spread back out, carrying on as if nothing had happened.

  I turned back around, only to see Xavier and Brooklyn all the way on the other side of the backyard. Brooklyn had her arms folded across her chest, her shoulders slouched miserably. Xavier hounded her closely behind. He gestured wildly with his arms, his flying beer splashing on the unfortunate party-goers around him.

  “Hey, Ace.” Tabitha elbowed her way through the crowd. “Brooklyn and Xavier just ditched me. Do you wanna –”

  “Sorry, Tabitha,” I refused as politely as I could. “Maybe some other time. I've gotta get up early for practice tomorrow. It was good seeing you again. Enjoy the party.”

  Chapter Ten: Brooklyn

  2016

  “You've reached Xavier Dubois. You know what to do.”

  I lowered my phone and smashed the “End Call” button angrily. For a lack of a better term, Xavier had been acting like a whiny little bitch since we bumped into Ace at the MacAllister party. He'd been dodging my calls left and right, and was instead inundating his Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, and other social media feeds with passive aggressive woe-is-me statuses.

  Things took an uglier turn when Xavier somehow got a hold of my yearbook from junior year and saw that Ace and I had been voted cutest couple. The attention-seeking statuses only worsened from there. I knew I should have been up front with Xavier when he asked me about my past with Ace, but in my defense, Ace was the one who lied – I just chose to keep my lips sealed. And honestly, judging by Xavier's knee-jerk jealousy, could he really blame me for not wanting to elaborate? After all, he'd been the one who insisted we were never to bring up our pasts, lest it ruffle his insecurities. Because God forbid he had to face them like a healthy, functioning adult.

  “Hey, Ms. C! We're gonna head out,” said Thumper as he joined the kids streaming out of the studio. “You want one of us to hang back so we can walk you to your car?”

  “No, I'm fine, thanks.” I slipped my phone into my purse. “I'll see you guys tomorrow.”

  “Alright, payce!”

>   Thumper and the rest of the kids poured out the front door. All but Aiden. With his back turned to me, he kicked off his high-tops and pulled off his gray hoodie. I stared hard at the constellation of purplish bruises and welts running down his back and arms. My gut churned.

  “Hey, Aiden.”

  He buttoned up the white shirt of his uniform, looking back at me with a surly knot between his eyebrows.

  “Yeah?”

  “Just wanted to say – I'm really glad you're here.” I smiled at him warmly. “It's always great to see a new face around here. Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

  “It's fine,” Aiden muttered, fixing his tie.

  “Oh. Okay, well, listen, about the kids – they're probably just a little intimidated. I'm sure they'll come around –”

  “We get along fine.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Glad to hear that. You're a man of few words, huh?” Met with silence, my smile faltered. “So, where'd you learn to dance like that? I've never seen anyone pick up the choreography so quickly.”

  “TV. YouTube.” Aiden crammed his sneakers into his bag and slipped into his loafers.

  “Right. Anyway, Aiden, listen, I'm just gonna put this out there – if you ever need to talk –”

  “I'm fine, but thanks.” Aiden picked up his bag, nodding at me. “I'll see you on Friday.”

  When Aiden slunk out the door, I grabbed my things and started locking up the studio. I thought it would be best not to pursue the matter and leave him be for now. From what I've learned with some of these kids, it took a while for them to get comfortable around you.

  It took Thumper over 4 months before he dropped the “hard thug” attitude, and he was now one of the most easy-going and lovable among my kids. Maria wasn't too far off, either. The former Little-Miss-Thang used to terrorize the place by breaking in and covering the walls with graffiti, the conductor to her band of vandal buddies. Even when I'd coaxed her and a few of her friends into our group, she would mouth off to me for at least half a year. Now, she came over to my apartment every month to make me one of her grandmother's heavenly recipes.