Chapter Ten
Mateo
I blame the balls.
Not even big balls. Small balls.
In bright fucking pink.
I was in the sporting goods store to buy some soccer balls for the kids at camp. While I was there I figured I’d grab a couple of shirts and maybe another pair of running shoes, since mine are starting to feel a little too well worn.
Anyway, so there I am, wandering around the store, when I walk down an aisle that has nothing I’m interested in. I have no idea why I walk down this aisle. But right in the middle of the aisle, on the left-hand side, eye level, are Ping-Pong balls. They come in packages of six. There are white balls. Yellow balls. Pink balls.
Immediately, my mind goes to Teague. Pink seems like her color. I need to buy these for her. I need to take them to her. I need to play Ping-Pong with her. Like today.
Which is why I’m now standing outside her door on a Friday night, hoping she’s up for getting her game on. Or playing with my balls. I’m totally down with that idea, too. Yeah, I’m horny right now. And really don’t want to fucking leave here with blue balls.
Even though I know I probably will.
Lights are blazing inside the place, and I hear voices and giggling. The sound of her laughter has me second-guessing my arrival. She’s having fun.
But she’ll have more fun with me. I’ll make sure of it. Balls or no balls. Jesus, Mateo, stop with the fucking balls.
I knock, and immediately the sweet noise inside stops. “Who is it?” a girl calls out. Not Teague. It must be Harper.
“Mateo.”
There’s definite clambering inside the house if I’m hearing correctly. The door is jerked open a few seconds later and Teague and her friend are standing—no, more like tilting—in front of me. “Hi,” they both say.
My eyes quickly latch onto Teague. She’s still in work clothes, but her feet are bare (her toes are painted pink by the way, go me), and her strawberry-blonde hair is haphazardly piled on top of her head like she couldn’t be bothered with it.
“Hey. Looks like I caught you two playing with Don Julio.” Their breath is heavily tequila-laced.
“Who?” Teague asks.
“Brains and looks. I like,” Harper says. “We may have been imbibing with Don. It is his holiday, after all.”
“That’s right.” May 5.
“We haven’t officially met. I’m Harper.”
“Nice to make it official,” I say. I still haven’t taken my eyes off Teague. She’s leaning against the door. I would make an excellent door for her to rub against.
Harper elbows Teague. “Oh, so um, what brings you by?” Teague asks.
“I come with a gift.” I lift the bag in my hand from the sporting goods store. “And a challenge.”
Teague studies the bag. Harper elbows her again. “Okay. Would you like to come inside with that gift and challenge?”
“I would.”
The girls part so I can step between them. The place is spacious with a kitchen and office nook to the right. Straight ahead is a hallway with what looks like a couple of bedrooms. To my left is a living room made up of comfortable couches, two bookcases, and a flat-screen TV. And holy fucking shit. The source of the girls’ giggles when I arrived is right up there on the screen in glaring 2-D. I have a feeling they meant to turn the TV off before they answered the door, but instead they paused what they were watching. I’m currently staring at, no joke, a foot-long cock. My sweet, gorgeous Teague was watching porn.
I may not recover from this—the fact that Knox was watching a dirty movie, not the fact that I have to see a giant dick freeze-framed. Just to clarify.
“Looks like I interrupted something,” I say.
“Ohmigodohmigodohmigod!” Teague lunges for the TV remote sitting on the arm of the couch. She points it at the TV screen and hastily pushes the power button. The screen goes black.
She drops the remote like it’s hot and looks up at me, her cheeks the darkest shade of pink yet. “You did not see that.”
“I didn’t?” I tease.
Harper bursts into a fit of laughter. She’s laughing so hard I’m afraid she’s going to be unable to catch a breath. She clutches her stomach and plops onto the couch.
Teague, on the other hand, doesn’t know what to do with herself. She fidgets, bites her lower lip, her chest rising and falling.
I get stuck there, on her tits and the way her shirt stretches across her curves. I’ve been up close and personal with enough shapes and sizes to know she doesn’t wear a padded bra, which means the spectacular display is natural and—
“Mateo! Did you hear what I said?”
My eyes snap back to hers. “Sorry. What?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, testing my eye contact skills to the max, but this is a girl I care about, so I hold her blue gaze. A doubly difficult task because she’s trying to stare a hole through me.
“I said let’s go into the kitchen.” She brushes by me. “I need ice cream. Or cookies. I need ice cream and cookies.”
I grin and follow her ass across the room. Don’t scowl at me. It’s a compliment to how well Teague is put together. And it keeps me from mentally backing up to the fact that I do, indeed, care about this girl.
“I’m just gonna go to my room,” Harper sings out. “Have fun, you two.”
Teague puts her face in the freezer, ignoring her roommate. I take a seat at the round two-person kitchen table. “Would you like some?” Teague asks, putting a gallon of ice cream on the counter.
I’m not big on junk food, but I know girls. They don’t like to eat the crappy stuff alone. “Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
Her movements are jerky and a little sloppy as she moves about. Could be the alcohol. Could be her embarrassment. Either way, she’s fun to watch.
She puts a bowl with ice cream, chocolate chip cookie pieces, and chocolate syrup in front of me. She sits down with a matching bowl. “Hi,” she says, calmer, more in control now.
“Hi. Thanks for the sundae.”
“You’re welcome.”
We eat in silence, stealing glances at each other the whole time. Halfway to finishing, Teague says, “What did you bring me?” I hand her the bag.
Her spoon clinks inside her dish before she takes the gift from me. She pulls out one of the bundles of Ping-Pong balls and smiles. “Now I understand the challenge.” She rummages in the bag. “Are you planning on making this the best of twenty or something?”
There were five packages of pink balls, so I bought all five. A girl can never have too many balls. Yeah, I just thought that. I’m an idiot sometimes.
I shrug. “I got a little carried away.” Seems to be a theme with her.
“I like them. Thank you. You know we can’t play tonight, though, right? It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Worried I’ll win because your head’s a little foggy? Reflexes a little slow?” I don’t see any signs of tequila in the kitchen, so they must have hit a restaurant or bar. With the passing of time, Teague isn’t all-out drunk, but she’s not sober, either.
She makes a cute sound from the back of her throat. “No, actually. I’m worried I’ll beat you while under the influence and then you’ll have the unfortunate distinction of losing to a girl when she wasn’t even at her best.” She takes a bite of her ice cream. “For a jock like you, that could be devastating,” she says around a mouthful of food. “So best if we play and I beat you when I’m not a little tipsy so you can be proud of your loss.”
This girl is too much. “Is that so?”
“Yep. It’s weird how good I am.”
I fight a smile to keep my game face on. “What if I beat you?”
“You won’t.”
Her confidence is insanely attractive. And I’ll be totally honest here, a tiny bit worrisome. I’m a competitive guy. I don’t like to lose. Since Teague’s a straight arrow, I know she’s not talking shit here. Plus, if I were to beat her, she could say it was because she wasn’t at her best, a legit reason at the moment.
“Okay, we’ll table it for now.” I take one last bite of my ice cream.
“Smart man.”
I watch her eat, lick the chocolate syrup off the corner of her mouth. She’s the first girl I’ve hung out with who is unapologetic about eating and enjoying it. I think back to how much she enjoyed our tacos a couple of weeks ago.
“So, did you and Harper enjoy some Mexican food today, too?”
“We did. Madison joined us.”
“Bride-to-be Madison?” I didn’t know she and Teague had become friends.
She pushes her bowl away and, with her elbow on the table, puts her chin in her hand like she’s tired. “Yes. I was told to help her with her bridesmaid gifts and Harper came along. Afterward, the three of us went out. She’s really nice.”
“She is.”
“We talked about you.”
I lean forward, duck my head so our faces are more level, closer. I can see the faint scar on her cheek. “Anything I should know about?”
She’s fixed on me so intently I can almost feel her pulse along with mine. She wants to ask me something but is hesitant.
“Or anything you want to know about?” Besides my secret identity as the Dating Guy, I’m pretty much an open book.
“Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?”
I sit back. I need a little more breathing room if I’m going to talk about Allie. “Yes. What about you? Serious boyfriend?”
“I thought so,” she says with regret. She stands, collects our bowls, and puts them in the sink. She pads over to the couch. I follow and sit next to her, not close enough to touch, even though I really want to.
“What was her name?” Teague asks, tucking one leg underneath her and resting her side against the couch so she’s facing me.
“Allie.”
“What happened?”
“She broke up with me after an injury ruined my chances of being a professional soccer player. Took up with my best friend on the team while I was still in the hospital.”
“What a butthead.”
I crack up. God, this girl. She makes me feel…I’m not going to think about what she makes me feel. Not in front of her, anyway. “Not exactly the adjective I’ve used to describe her, but thanks.” It took me a few months to get over the heartbreak Allie left me with, and I was angry. Said some not-so-nice things about her. Especially after she hooked up with my teammate like I meant nothing. She kicked me when I was down, and in some ways it hurt more than the injury I suffered on the field.
“What kind of injury?”
“I collided with another defender and broke my leg so badly the bone pierced my skin. Had a compound fracture of my tibia and fibula. It sucked.”
Teague swallows. “That sounds awful, but you seem to have made a complete recovery. I never would have guessed you’ve had a broken leg.”
“It took a lot of work to get here, and some days my leg aches, but yeah, I’m good.”
“Madison said you work for a soccer camp for kids, so you must be able to run around okay.”
“Yeah. It’s called Kids and Kicks. It’s a great organization, and I’m happy I still get to be around soccer even if it’s not how I imagined.” On those occasional days when my leg throbs more than usual, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. That sense of striving for something I loved died on the field with my dream of turning pro, and Bennett and volunteer work are great, but I still feel like something is missing.
“I’m glad,” she says softly. Her body sinks more comfortably into the couch.
“Your turn. I’m afraid to ask if Big Dick is the boyfriend you were referring to.”
She scrunches up her nose. “He is. I thought he was The One. Boy was I mistaken. Turned out I wasn’t the only one for him, and then he decided to very publicly break up with me in my favorite pub back home.”
“What a butthead.”
That earns me the smile that’s just mine. I’ve seen Teague smile at other people, and it’s not like what she gives me. It makes me feel like a fucking rock star.
“Luckily I dodged that bullet, though. I’m not sure how I could have been so wrong about him. Shows you what a bad judge of character I am when it comes to guys.”
I’m guessing it’s not her judgment but naïveté. “There’ve been other pricks?” I want to punch every guy who’s hurt her.
“I wouldn’t call them that exactly. We just didn’t connect, I guess. The relationships were pretty short-lived.” She straightens. “Want to watch a movie?”
I raise my eyebrows. I’d like to act out the last film she watched and then create some of our own scenes.
“Not that kind of movie!”
Wishful thinking.
This is my cue to leave. To tell her I can’t stay. It’s not that late; I can meet up with Elliot and Levi for a beer, do some “work,” but I don’t want to get off this couch. I want to stay in this cozy home with this gentle, authentic, beautiful girl and watch whatever movie she wants. Even if it’s the sad, romantic shit Izzy loves.
This is a fucking problem, but one I’m apparently going to ignore because I say, “Sounds good.”
“Okay, why don’t you pick one?” She stands. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to change out of my work clothes.”
Two more reasons why I need to get my ass out the door. She’s nice enough to let me pick the movie and she’s comfortable enough around me to change into her pajamas, I’m guessing. Wait a minute, she doesn’t sleep in pajamas.
I’ll stay for a few. See what she comes out in, then tell her I actually need to get going.
Which makes me a total ass. She’s carrying on with the friend thing and I’m…I’m at a fucking loss. I want in this girl’s pants, but I like her too much to date and ditch her. Which is what I do. What I have to do to keep my job.
I’m discovering the friend thing might be too hard for me with her.
Yep. Definitely too hard. In all the wrong places, I might add. Because she walks back into the room wearing the Dodgers nightshirt I gave her, and the first thought to run through my head is I don’t want anyone else to see her like this. She’s adorable. Sexy. The kind of girl any guy with a pulse would want to take to bed. I want to fuck her in every position I can think of. And let me tell you, it’s a talent how many I can think of.
“Are you okay?” she asks, sitting down and picking up the remote. “I leave you one simple task and you look like your head is about to explode.”
“I have to…”
“You have to?” Her attention is on the television and pulling up the movies available on demand.
Go. I have to go. But the word doesn’t want to come out and mess up what I’ve started. That’s right. I started this. She wanted nothing to do with me, and I pressed for more. Insinuated myself into her life without thinking. Like she was my force field and I’d crash and burn if I didn’t stay in her orbit.
I can do this. I can ignore how hard my cock is right now.
“Nothing,” I say.
She cuts me a sideways glance. “Are you sure? I can ask Harper to watch a movie with me instead of you.”
There is no “instead of me.” And the reminder that Harper is down the hall eases my mind. If I’m not on my best behavior, Teague’s best friend will no doubt kick me to the curb.
Side note: there is something wrong with me. I have never given this much thought to a girl. Ever. All the weekly dating reports I’m responsible for have got me analyzing the shit out of this relationship.
I relax against the couch. Knowing there’s a reason for the running commentary in my head makes me feel better. “I’m sure,” I say, and grab the remote from her. “How do you feel about an action flick?”
“I like all movies, so anything is fine.”
We agree on a Jason Statham film and settle in. It doesn’t take long for us to gravitate to the middle of the couch so we’re touching from shoulder to knee. Soon thereafter, Teague lays her head against my biceps. To make us both more comfortable, I lift my arm and put it around her so the side of her face now rests on my chest.
Halfway through the movie, she falls asleep, her body completely molding to mine, her breathing soft and even. I debate lifting her and carrying her to her room. Tucking her under the covers. But I don’t get to make a decision, because the last thing I remember is a sweet sensation coursing through me as my eyes close right there on the couch.