Home Random Page


CATEGORIES:

BiologyChemistryConstructionCultureEcologyEconomyElectronicsFinanceGeographyHistoryInformaticsLawMathematicsMechanicsMedicineOtherPedagogyPhilosophyPhysicsPolicyPsychologySociologySportTourism






A Lot of the Guys Cheat

Jack

 

After the game and the team meeting, I changed, took a quick shower, and headed out of the navy blue locker room doors. I burst through, looking around for her face. The minute I locked on her tired green eyes, I knew something was off.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, as my protective instincts flared.

Her lips formed a tight smile and I eyed the Mets shirt that hugged the curves of her body. “Nothing’s wrong. Like my new shirt?”

She turned around, lifting her hair to proudly display my last name and jersey number written on the back of the shirt. Carter 23.

“Like it? I fucking love it,” I answered and her face softened, but the worry lines between her eyes remained.

My mind instantly flashed back to the night she was mugged at Fullton State. She was with a group of my teammates heading toward campus to meet up with me when a guy high on drugs and alcohol assaulted them and claimed to have a gun. I was scheduled to throw out the first pitch for the softball team that night, but I left the second I heard whispers about what happened, running into Dean and Brett along the way. I remember sprinting across the parking lot as quick as my legs would move me, toward the street searching for any signs of her. When I saw her silhouette, being helped up by my buddy Cole as they walked, I nearly crumpled with pain. It was my job to protect her and keep her safe, and I failed.

Seeing her beautiful face bruised and beaten in my mind caused my blood to start boiling. I promised her that night that I’d never let anyone hurt her again, and I meant it. The thought alone could make me come completely unglued. No one could fuck with my Kitten like that ever again.

“You going to tell me what’s wrong?” I pressed again and she avoided my eyes.

“Really it’s nothing. I just want to go home. I’m exhausted.”

I leaned my head toward her, my lips grazing over her ear as I whispered, “I know you’re lying. Tell me in the car.” I kissed her ear before pulling my lips away and throwing my arm around her shoulder.

I relaxed the moment she pulled her body into mine and confessed, “I love you. I’m so fucking happy that you’re here. That we’re here together. You know that, right?” She smiled as the words left her lips.

God I loved that smile. I loved everything about this woman.

“I am too. I love you.”

I refused to stop for any fan autographs or pictures, instead walking straight to the car, my arm around my girl. Cassie’s body tensed as small flashes of light exploded around us. I was used to this, but she wasn’t. I squeezed her tighter, longing to reassure whatever bothered her.

“Hey, Matteo.”

“Hi, Jack. Cassie.” His smile quickly faded when he said her name. He sensed it too. Something was wrong.

Once in the privacy of our car, I reached for Cassie’s hand, stroking the top with my thumb. “Tell me what’s wrong, Kitten.”

The car sped forward and Matteo glanced at us in the rearview.

“I’m just really tired, Jack. It’s a long day when I come straight here after work, you know?”



She had a point. Cass was gone in the mornings before I woke up, and we didn’t get home until well after eleven.

“You don’t have to come to all the games.” I offered her a way out. Did I want her there? Of course I did. I wanted that girl everywhere I was. But maybe I was being unreasonable by asking her to come to the games when I don’t even play.

Her eyes softened, and I had to touch her. I cupped her chin in my palm, her eyes closing. “I want to be at your games, Jack. I’ll miss plenty of them because of work. I want to watch every one that I can.”

I sighed.

Actually fucking sighed.

Matteo was probably thinking about what a giant pussy I was. Hell, I was thinking about what a giant pussy I was.

I changed the subject. She was avoiding my question for a reason, and I refused to push her about it in the car. I’d ask her again once we were home…and alone. I handed her a manila envelope filled with paperwork.

“What is this?” She scrunched up her nose, and it was so goddamned cute that I instantly hardened.

“It’s my travel schedule for the next three weeks.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh! I meant to ask you about that the other night, but I completely forgot.”

“Well here it is.” I slid my hand up her thigh. “Part of it anyway,” I added before she swatted my hand away.

“Stop it,” she whispered, her cheeks turning pink.

I loved the way I affected her. It made me even harder, and I adjusted my jeans, attempting to relieve the pressure. She flipped through the papers, pausing to read some pages more thoroughly than others. I leaned into her neck, the smell of her skin overwhelming my senses. I kissed her softly, allowing my tongue to glide up her neck as she released a slight gasp.

“I’m going to fuck you in the back of this car while Matteo watches if you don’t stop making those noises.”

Her jaw dropped open, her eyes falling to the bulge in my pants before widening with embarrassment. “Jack!”

“Screaming my name isn’t going to help you,” I teased, my tongue sliding around her earlobe as I sucked it in my mouth gently.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Stop.” She adjusted her body, moving my face away with her hands. “Wait ’til we get home,” she begged, casting a glance in Matteo’s direction.

I moved my hand up her thigh again, stopping before I reached her spot. Want filled her eyes, even through her constant pleading for me to stop. I pulled away swiftly, putting my hands behind my head and leaning back into them. “OK. I can wait.”

Her chest heaved, her breathing uneven.

Fuck. I couldn’t wait, but teasing her was worth it.

She attempted to distract herself by flicking through the paperwork again, her hands shaking. “So this is all your travel information. Flight, hotel, bus, and game times?”

“Yep. It’s all there.” I tried to ignore the throbbing between my legs.

“I have a question.”

How the hell do females just turn off the ability to be turned on? It’s like they’re superheroes or something. Can go from worked up to shut down in two seconds flat! Guys don’t work like that.

“I have an answer,” I said as evenly as possible.

“Who does all this for you guys? Someone has to book all your flights and coordinate all this. I’d freaking die if I had to do all that administrative bullshit,” she admitted, shaking her head.

“We have a travel secretary. Her name’s Alison, and I’ll give you all her contact information in case you ever need to reach her.” I tilted my head to each side, cracking my neck loudly.

“What happens when I want to go to an away game? Do I call her for my travel too?”

I laughed. “No. She only books the team’s travel. All the wives, girlfriends, and kids are on their own.”

“Jeez. But if I wanted to get on the same flight with you, I can, right?” she asked as two worry lines appeared above the bridge of her nose.

I shook my head. “No. We have a team plane that—”

“You have a team plane? Like a Mets plane?”

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand. “No. If you’d let me finish.”

“Finish,” she interrupted with a smirk, and I wanted to finish her.

“We have a commercial airline that we charter, so no one else can go on it. It’s just the team, the manager, the coaches, the trainers, and the equipment guys. And we don’t sit in the airport or anything either. We use a separate area so we don’t have to deal with fans.”

“I had no idea all that happened. That’s pretty cool for you guys. Sorta shitty for me.” Her lips formed a small faked snarl. “But whatever.”

“What’s with the snarl?”

She huffed, “Well Nora mentioned that I might be able to do some assignment shooting in conjunction with your road trips. But that’s not firm or anything.”

“You’d get to travel with me and work? I love it.” The idea of having her travel with me all the time was exactly what I wanted, and I refused to hide my enthusiasm over the suggestion.

“Don’t get too excited. She only mentioned it once and she also said it might not work.” She cocked her head to the side before asking, “Do a lot of the wives go to the away games? I mean, what about the ones with kids?”

“Most of them don’t travel with the team. I think it’s just easier to stay home.”

She nodded. “OK. So if I want to go to an away game, I have to book my own flight, and what else?”

“You’d have to get a rental car. The team travels by bus. And you’d have to let me know you’re coming because Alison would need to change my room.”

“Change your room, how?”

I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable about the information I was about to divulge. “If a wife or girlfriend comes to an away game, we get put on a different floor of the hotel than the rest of the team. Or if there’s another wing to the hotel, we get moved over there.”

I braced myself, wondering what was going on in that pretty little head of hers. “If a wife or girlfriend comes, you’re separated from the rest of the team? I don’t get it.”

Oh, Jesus.

“Basically it’s for your own good. There are things you don’t want to see on the road, Kitten. And if we’re not on the same floor as them, then you won’t necessarily see it.” I coughed into my hand. “Unless you go into the hotel bar. Don’t ever go into the hotel bar. Don’t even look in there. Do you hear me?”

She still looked lost. I needed to spell it out for her, and I really didn’t fucking want to. Not with our history. Not with our painful past. I imagined the groupies and cleat-chasers that showed up in the hotel bars every night after our games. They always knew which hotel the team stayed at and didn’t hesitate to make themselves available to any player who wanted them.

I’d seen things happen in those bars I wished I could erase from my memory, and I didn’t want them seared into hers. I hated hurting her. I glanced toward Matteo, who clearly knew what I was about to say. He quickly shook his head, as if advising me not to tell her.

“A lot of the guys cheat on their wives, Kitten. That’s why we’re put on another floor if we’re actually with our wives or girlfriends. And that’s why you avoid the hotel bar at all costs. There are things you do not want to see in there. OK?”

Matteo’s eyes narrowed in the mirror as he shifted his view from the road to Cassie and back again. She looked shocked, her face losing color. “Oh. Right.”

I reached for her chin, turning her to face me as her blonde hair spilled down around my hand. “Those other guys, they can cheat all they want. But I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t even go into the hotel bars anymore. I refuse to put myself in that position ever again. And I’ll ask to be on the wives’ floor every road trip if that will make you happy.”

I tapped my foot against the floor mat, nervous energy running through my veins as she turned away from me. I waited for her to respond. “Cass?” Her eyes met mine. “Say something. Anything.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“You always have something to say. Just say it. Please talk to me,” I begged. This girl brought me to my knees, and I’d fall to the floor willingly for her every single time.

She swallowed before inhaling deeply, “I just think it sucks. Obviously management knows that cheating goes on and by putting the wives on separate floors, it’s like they condone it. I just don’t understand why the integrity they demand from you guys on the field isn’t demanded once you’re off it?”

“It’s not that, babe. The cheating is going to happen no matter what anyone says. The wives eventually started asking to be put on different floors. They didn’t want to see girls coming out of their friends’ husbands’ rooms.”

The car slowed to a roll before coming to a stop altogether. In the height of the conversation, I’d almost forgotten where we were. Matteo exited the car before I could stop him, opening our door and extending a hand to Cass. He pulled her with care from the backseat, guiding her toward the building entrance by placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you,” she said politely.

“Thanks, man.” I reached out for Matteo’s hand and gripped it tight. He gripped it just as firmly in response, and I fought the urge to squeeze it until his bones popped. If this was some sort of pissing contest we were having, I’d be the one winning. “See you tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Good night and good luck.” He raised an eyebrow, and I patted his back.

“Thanks.”

We walked through the lobby, saying hello to Fred before taking the elevator up to our apartment. Once through the front door I emptied the loose change from my pockets onto the table. I sorted through it, grabbing all the quarters and removing them from the pile.

“What are you doing?” she asked, peering around the refrigerator door at me.

“Taking out the quarters.”

“Whyyyy?” she asked, dragging out the y sound for emphasis.

“You know why,” I said with a wink.

“Humor me.”

“I don’t spend quarters anymore, Kitten. They all get saved and put in that box right over there.” I pointed to the box filled with quarters Fred delivered that night, sitting on the shelf.

“I owe you a lot of touches, Mr. Carter.”

“You’re telling me. Why do you think I keep adding to the box?”

She laughed, and I watched her face light up before I took her smile away. “Now that we’re alone, will you please tell me what’s wrong? I know you’re tired, but something else happened tonight. What was it?” She hesitated, and I sensed she didn’t want to tell me. “Cass. Please. I’m starting to go a little fucking crazy here. Did someone hurt you?”

“No.” She shook her head, her eyes avoiding mine. “No one hurt me.”

“I know something happened. I can see it in your face. There might not be bruises this time, but I can see it just the same.”

She winced at my bringing up the mugging. We barely talked about that night, partly because they caught the guy, but mostly because it made me uncontrollably pissed off. I could barely think about that night, the way she looked and the way she trembled in my arms, without wanting to break into jail and kill that asshole with my bare hands.

I searched my memory for anything I might have said or done recently to piss her off. “Why the fuck are you making me drag it out of you like this? Just talk to me!” My irritation started to build as my tone escalated.

Why wouldn’t she just fucking talk to me? “Dammit, Cassie, just spit it out! Are you pissed at me? Did I do something wrong?”

My phone beeped, signaling a text message. Irritated, I grabbed it and slammed my finger against the buttons.

Cass will kill me for sending you this Jack, but you need to see it. It’s from tonight’s game.

Attached to my little brother’s text was a picture of Cassie getting a cup of beer thrown at her back.

 


Date: 2015-02-28; view: 922


<== previous page | next page ==>
When Life Gives You Lemons | I Don’t Need a Babysitter
doclecture.net - lectures - 2014-2024 year. Copyright infringement or personal data (0.011 sec.)