He reached forward to touch my cheek. I batted his hand away, rage fully taking hold as his intentions completely sank in. He planned to dismiss me. To put me back on the shelf. Again. Without even trying. He was taking the easy way out.

  “Ash . . . please.”

  I looked up and down the hallway. It was now empty and quiet—as desolate as I felt. I let his rejection roll through me till it coiled and hardened into red-hot frustration.

  What was I supposed to do? Go sit back in the corner? Play nice? Be friends?

  Fuck that.

  I needed to prove him wrong. Prove his father wrong. I’d waited too long for this.

  His dad wanted to fight dirty?

  Well, two could play that way.

  I surged forward and grabbed his belt loop again, using my other hand to sink into his hair, pulling him toward me. Without permission, I pressed my lips onto his.

  I didn’t wait for him to catch up. I opened my mouth and traced his lips with my tongue, forcing his weakness. My nails scratched down his back, trying to break through skin to get down to the truth I knew he was hiding.

  Strong hands tangled into my hair. He groaned and tilted his head. Deepening the kiss. Giving in the way my heart knew he would. His tongue lashed against mine, as his hands dropped to circle around to my lower back. Callous palms brushed under the hem of my shirt, heating my skin on contact.

  I took advantage of the new position, pressing myself fully against him. All my good girl parts stood at attention. My nipples pebbled against his chest. His hands slid down farther over my hips, cupping my ass, pulling me against the hardest part of him.

  I gasped as he swung me around, pressing my back up against his locker. I ground my hips against his. Desperately seeking more.

  I’d finally become her.

  That blissed out girl pressed up between him and the hard metal.

  I didn’t want to come up for air. I wanted to do all those not-nice-girl things. Over and over till I was drunk on them. But the time had come to accept the fate of my experiment. I pulled back, giving myself personal space I didn’t want or need.

  “Did that feel like we could ever go back to being just friends?”

  He groaned and dug both hands into his hair. “Soot. Don’t do this. I . . . I can’t do this . . .”

  Tears filled my eyes faster than I could bother to stop them. I wouldn’t stand there like pathetic Herpes Heather and beg.

  I dug deep to pluck up my last shred of pride. My eyes searched his as wetness cascaded down my cheeks.

  “You’re so worried about damaging our future, so worried about hurting me someday. You’re too blind to see that’s what you’ve already done.”

  I retrieved my bag from where I’d thoughtlessly tossed it aside, the way he was tossing me aside now.

  “When your father cornered me, he wanted a partner. Someone to help convince you to go to that fancy school. He told me sending you away would be the unselfish thing. But I couldn’t do it. I told him we needed to let you choose your own happiness. I was so stupidly sure whatever you chose would still include me.”

  “I am. Soot, I’m staying here because I’m not ready to leave you.”

  “But don’t you see? You already have. All the way gone would be easier than halfway. I won’t live in purgatory,” I added, with all the venom I had left. My whole body felt as drained as my resolve. “Say hi to your father for me.”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder and started the painful walk away from him. Unlike Heather, I didn’t sashay my hips.

  I wouldn’t be lucky enough to forget him by the end of the hallway.

  “Ash,” he called.

  “Ashley!” he shouted again. “That’s not what I want. Goddamn it.” His words were followed by the repeated slamming of his fist against the lockers.

  I didn’t turn back to watch him self-destruct.

  He’d made his choice.

  Now, he’d have to live alone with it.

  Foul Territory

  Sometimes the only thing fair in life,

  is a ball hit between first and third.

  —Anonymous

  23

  Toxic Princess

  Brayden

  “Well, the prodigal son returns to the fold,” Bobby announced, dropping down on the camp chair beside me. His ginger cheeks glowed with the warmth of alcohol. “Have you boys all read Belinski’s latest prospect report?” he asked, looking at the circle of guys chilling out around us.

  He garnered a few smirks before he looked back over at me. “How hard did you suck that dude’s cock to get him to write that shit about you? His blog post today reads like you’re the goddamn Second Coming of Christ.”

  He flailed his arms up and down in front of himself, sending sarcastic worship in my direction. I snickered but didn’t respond.

  “In all seriousness, what the hell did you do at that invitational in Orlando last week? That guy said . . . wait, wait, I’ll pull it up. I have to read it to you.” He dug down into his jeans, trying to squeeze his phone out from the pocket covering his thick thigh.

  “Bob, knock it off, man. No one wants to hear that shit,” I said, palming the bill of my cap as I stared around the bonfire to look for her again.

  “Brayden Ross has been a standout since the beginning of his high school career, but few other top prospects have shown the explosive growth we’re seeing out of the right-handed ace this summer.”

  I held my hand up, but he didn’t give a shit.

  Bobby lived for a captive audience.

  The guys around me had all stopped talking to listen in.

  “For a couple of months now, he’s been working with legendary pitching coach Ed Rossnel, and it shows. He’s bulked up his six-foot-three-inch frame, and on top of a blazing fastball, has added a nasty new knuckle curve to his repertoire. We’ve never seen someone show breaking stuff like this at such a young age. At this point, it’s not a question of if Ross will make it to the big dance; it’s simply a matter of when.”

  Bobby pressed his phone against his chest and tipped his head back with his eyes squeezed shut. “Jesus, man. That last sentence.” His head popped back up along with a shit-eating grin. “I’m not gonna lie; I almost came in my pants the first time I read that.”

  “I’m glad it was good for you,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

  “Hell, buddy,” Dillan said, kicking the leg of my chair, “that’s gotta make all this shit you’ve been doing worth it, huh?”

  I pressed my lips together in a flat smile and held my beer bottle halfway up in acknowledgment.

  “You have fun in Florida?” he asked.

  “I shared a hotel room with my dad for five days. What do you think?”

  I’d spent most of my summer on the road. The invitations to showcases and all-star exhibitions had rolled in.

  My father refused to turn down a single one.

  Scouts had been coming out of the woodwork. They’d sit in the stands, taunting me with their stupid notebooks and iPads, writing up the words that would decide my fate.

  When I hadn’t been traveling to train or play, I’d been at home, trying to play off not being a miserable asshole.

  “Thanks, Bobbo. I really enjoyed that,” I said, laughing sarcastically. I thumped him on the knee as I stood and searched one more time.

  Nothing.

  I turned to Dillan and murmured, “I’m gonna go take a walk down by the water. If she shows up, will you text me?”

  Dillan answered with a pitiful smile, “Yeah, man. Why do you keep torturing yourself like this?”

  “Glutton for punishment,” I answered under my breath as I started to walk away from the crowd.

  “Goin’ to get you some, Bray?” Bobby called.

  I flipped him off without turning around.

  I couldn’t blame him for assuming.

  I’d spent the summer working my way through a handful of girls most guys would have been more than happy to have bouncing on their dicks. Miranda Ramos. Leona Merritt. And Heather fucking Franco.

  Yeah, she’d come rolling back my way again and I’d decided to cave.

  That girl was a serious freak. She got off on having sex in public. She’d gone down on me in the movie theater twice and had me fuck her from behind, up against a picnic bench in the park behind Christ Church.

  She’d screamed, “Oh God,” through most of it.

  I guess that was her idea of finding religion.

  I’d gotten drunk and somehow ended up with Coral Lynn one night, after another bonfire just like this one. That was the first time Ashley had shown up at one of these parties.

  The royal-blue sundress she’d worn that night had tiny spaghetti straps. They’d begged to slide down her arms, so those perfect tits could come out to play. The cool breeze coming off the bay had kept her nipples pebbled against the thin cotton, tempting me with the knowledge she wasn’t wearing a bra. The skirt had flared out when she walked. She’d crossed her legs a couple of times, and I’d sworn I could see hot-pink panties peeking out at me from across the fire.

  Her lips had been my last straw though. They were my obsession. Always pink and lush. Just a little bit pouty without being too cute. She’d started putting something on them. They were always shiny and wet.

  So fucking wet.

  I wanted them. I wanted to lick the little upturned ridge across her top lip. I wanted to bury my dick between them and watch them slide up and down. Hear them calling out my name.

  That was the shit I dreamt about.

  Her lips made me the world’s biggest perv.

  Problem was, I didn’t lay claim to that title alone.

  I’d wanted to beat the shit out of CJ Weller. He’d sat too close to her that whole night, rubbing his hands all over her, feigning like he was trying to help her stay warm.

  Fucker had no game and couldn’t figure out how to cop a feel.

  When she’d left with him, I hadn’t been in a good place. I’d taken a yellow pill I was pretty sure was Valium. Between the supplements from Rossnel, and the good stuff my dad’s doc had given me—after I complained about jitters and insomnia—I’d lost track of what was what.

  I’d chased my little friend down with a Heineken.

  Everything had been fuzzy and better after that.

  Right up until I’d woken up at three a.m., passed out on my couch, with Coral Lynn still half-stuck to my cock. That chick had no self-respect. I’d woken her up, told her to get the fuck out, and then crawled up to my own bed.

  Ashley had also been there the night I ended up having sex with Whitney and Hannah—not together, just on the same night. That resulted from too many beers, Xanax, and some bad weed my new pal Danny brought.

  I swear I’d only been drinking—up until the point when Ashley walked in with Joey . . .

  “What the motherfuck does she have on now?” I hadn’t meant to share that thought out loud, but my eyes were bugging, and the words just popped out of my mouth.

  “Jesus, I don’t know, but there ain’t much of it,” Bobby muttered beside me.

  Dillan popped him across the back of his head for me.

  “What?” Bobby said in response. “I have eyes, man. Good Lord. It’s impossible not to notice her these days. She sure as hell has finally grown up. In all the right places.” He made an hourglass motion with his hands.

  Dillan popped him again. I nodded at him in appreciation.

  Ashley’s cutoff jean shorts were frayed so far up the little squares from the white cotton pockets stuck out at the tops of her thighs. As if that wasn’t enough to make my cock try to jump out of my shorts, she had them paired with half a shirt. The black lace top had fringe at the bottom that barely skimmed down to her belly button. All she had on underneath it was a silky black bra. It left her cleavage plumped up in a delicious little V that begged for my tongue.

  Saliva pooled in my mouth.

  “Who knew Brayden’s little pet would turn into the hottest chick in town?” Elijah Boon asked, waltzing over to join us.

  The dude graduated last year. Fucker came home from college for the summer and thought hanging out at high school parties still sounded cool.

  I expectantly looked at Dillan.

  He smirked at me and popped Elijah across the back of the head for me, too.

  “Shut the fuck up. She’s not my pet. And she’s not allowed to be the hottest chick in town.”

  “Well, someone should tell her that. Every guy around this fire is adjusting his hard-on.” He demonstrated on his own fly. “You ever tap that, man? I mean, hell, she’s hotter than half of the chicks I’ve met at Clemson. I’d tap that. All night long. She turns eighteen any minute now, right?”

  I glared at him until he held his hands up in submission and chuckled.

  “I’m just yanking your chain.”

  “Where the hell is Nathan?” I asked, looking around for my lost-in-action best friend. “Why can’t he ever mind his little sister?”

  “Where he always is. Off fucking Cindi again,” Bobby said, rolling his eyes. “He hasn’t come up for air since we got back home last week. I’m not sure how that guy doesn’t end up with gangrene or something. He doesn’t ever give his dick a chance to dry off.”

  The entire group snickered.

  Nathan and Cindi were pretty damn serious. They had been for a while. Our summer team traveled so much, the time apart took a toll on them. Nathan was always texting her, or on the phone whispering shit to her in the dark, while the rest of us were trying to sleep in the shitty hotel beds. He never hung out when we were home anymore either. The two of them were always holed up somewhere, acting like rabbits, making up for lost time.

  “I swear those two are married. That guy is so pussy-whipped, he’s not even paying a second of attention to his sister’s clothing selections,” Bobby added.

  “You mean, Joey’s. She’s the one responsible for this. I know it. Fucking Joey,” I muttered.

  I watched Ashley from across the fire. She sat on a blanket next to her personal Svengali and a couple of their other friends. Four or five guys were already circling them.

  “Damn vultures.”

  She kept running her hand across her belly. Blood-red fingernails trailed across soft, creamy skin. I could tell the revealing shirt made her as uncomfortable as it made me.

  Why had she started letting Joey dress her like a tart?

  I took another pull from my bottle, then absentmindedly picked at the label, while I watched her hand move back and forth. She might as well have been stroking my dick. That poor sucker got lost in his own world, dreaming about having those nails wrapped around him.

  My pants were getting uncomfortable. I stood up to relieve the pressure. My movement caught her attention. Our eyes met across the top of dancing flames. The pained expression that darted across her brow sucker-punched me in the gut. She didn’t even like looking at me—my worst fear come true.

  I turned my back on her and searched around for Danny. I needed to get away from Ashley, physically and mentally. My new buddy would have the answer. For a guy barely scraping his way through high school, Danny knew a whole lot about problem-solving.

  I don’t remember finding him. I also don’t remember walking away from the fire with Whitney. We just ended up back in a cluster of tall grasses, down near the water where black nothingness provided a little bit of privacy.

  “You fuck me so good, Brayden. Too good. I’ve missed this so much.”

  She was bent over, holding on to the trunk of a willow tree. She insisted on trying to turn around and kiss me, but I kept my hand tangled tight in her hair, holding her so she couldn’t gain access. I didn’t want to see her face.

  “You’re so big. God, nothing feels as good as your cock. No one else is this good.”

  She fucked like bad porn.

  Every one of her moves was predictable and fake.

  I really wanted her to shut her mouth. If she’d shut up for a minute, I could close my eyes and dream her into being someone else.

  I reached around and pressed against her clit so we could get this over with faster. She panted and screamed out my name a couple of times as she convulsed around my dick. Then, she held on to the tree with her hands, so I could pound my frustration into her.

  The release didn’t fix things.

  Even temporarily.

  Ashley had left with Tucker Hoile. Before I’d wandered away with Whitney, I saw her holding his hand as they walked up toward the road where everyone parked. He’d pulled her in close to him, wrapping his grubby hand all over the gentle curve of her exposed waist.

  Every nerve ending inside me still boiled. Rage like I’d never known.

  Whitney got the brunt of it.

  When I pulled out of her, she tried to turn again. I stepped back before she could reach me. I threw the condom off into the bushes, zipped my pants, and smirked in her direction.

  “Thanks, Whit. Nice catching up with you.”

  I didn’t even make sure she got back to the fire.

  She’d spent enough time out here with other guys all summer. I was sure she knew the way. I didn’t have time to worry about being a colossal asshole.

  I never picked nice girls for a reason. I picked horny girls with bad reputations, who were always ready to get off and then stupid enough to let me keep walking away.

  Whitney knew better than to expect more from me.

  I drank a couple more beers by the fire and took Danny up on an earlier offer for more weed. I had a rare rest week coming up. I didn’t have to play any more ball for eight whole days. Long enough for me to cover the damage from a night of bingeing. Unfortunately, not long enough to heal from the damage Ashley’s disappearance had inflicted.

  I turned to Dillan and Bobby halfway through my joint.

  “We need to get the message out to all these fuckers that she’s off-limits, and they’d better keep their hands off her. She’s off-limits to me, too, of course. That’s the motherfucking problem.” I inhaled and let the smoke fill up my lungs till it burned a little bit. “Walking around here like a goddamn cocktease. Driving me stupid.”

 

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