Kicking Reality

Though I wouldn’t mind finding some and releasing my anger that way.

“So you think this is weird too?” I ask.

He nods, placing his arms underneath his head. The bottom of his shirt lifts slightly and I do my best to avoid looking at his happy trail. Okay, his happy trail looked sexy. I didn’t even know that was possible. Isn’t a happy trail just an extension of your pubic hair?

“We walk into the bar after a game. He says she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen and the next morning he calls me to tell me he married her.”

“What?” I sit up on my elbows again but this time in a mad rush, which causes the hammock to swing faster. “He knew her for less than a day?”

“Yes.”

“And he has the nerve to say I’m getting married so fast.”

“Oh yeah.” Logan half smiles. “Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks.” I kill my

curiosity by asking him for the truth. “Did you watch it?”

There’s a short silence while he gazes at the sky. He’s one of those people that when he smiles, his whole face lights up, most notably—his eyes. The color of them used to freak me out: green that sometimes changed to brown. When I asked him how he did that, he told me he was bionic raised by robots pretending to be human.

“You know I don’t watch TV unless it’s sports.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, choosing to drop the subject of my engagement and focus back onto Ash.

“What happens now? Is your coach mad?”

“Coach Bennett is fuming but he calmed down a bit. He sent Ash home to tell your parents and expects us back in three days to commence training. He said that if this relationship ruins our game—he’s out. No second chances.”

“That’s a bit harsh don’t you think? So what, you’re not allowed to have relationships?”

“Not ones that would affect our gameplay.”

“Huh,” I say loosely. “Explains why you’re a player of women.”

He knocks into my arm, causing the hammock to swing faster.

“Let’s go out tonight. Maybe we should celebrate his decision. I’ve been a terrible best friend,” he openly admits.

“Really? Is that a cover of you just wanting to go out tonight and find some random chick to screw? Some Green Meadows hussy waiting for the hottest athlete to come sweep her off her feet?” I lace my voice with adoration, mocking his persona.

“You know me too well, Emmy.” He grins.

“I can spot a man-whore a mile away,” I point out confidently. “Alright, first let’s see if he’s still alive.”

“Good idea.”

We both climb off the hammock with great difficulty. Walking back towards the house while we talk about what’s been going on, we walk past the edge of the pool. I make a note to keep a reasonable distance from it. You learn from the past: once a prankster, always a prankster.

“Lighten up, I won’t push you in,” Logan chastises.

“That’s what you said numerous times. Once played, always scarred.”

“C’mon, I’ve grown up. We aren’t kids anymore.”

Logan Carrington wasn’t a kid—that’s for sure. He is a man. One that screamed bad boy. I felt sorry for the women that fell in love with him. He’s your classic athlete with the biggest head on this planet, next to my brother of course. That’s why they were best friends since day one. Two man-whore peas in a man-whore pod.

“I guess you’re right.”