Page 8 of Playmaker
Maddie
Last night felt like a lucid dream.
There’s no way Cameron apologized, suggested a truce so we could become friends again, and had his hard cock pressed against my ass all in the same night. How can he think becoming friends is something we’ll ever be able to maintain? When I backed into his thick length while he had me caged against the island, it confirmed my suspicions about his feelings for me. Well, maybe not feelings . I’m almost certain Cameron doesn’t know what genuine feelings are. The man is a certified player through and through, but one thing I did become keenly aware of last night? The attraction is mutual, and that’s a danger in itself.
Ever since I went to bed, I’ve tried to convince myself it was a fluke. Maybe he drank too much last night at the party. Maybe that’s why we stayed up until five in the morning eating pizza while we laughed and talked about irrelevant things, avoiding the elephant in the room about why we put distance between us in the first place. I thought he’d wake up this morning convinced the truce had been a mistake.
But what I didn’t expect?
Cameron Holden showing up on my doorstep at three in the afternoon with a bike propped against his hip.
I blink at least a dozen times before I finally grasp that this is definitely not a dream. My heart racing a mile a minute is real. My palms slicked with sweat are real. His smile that could rival the sun is real .
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Are you looking for Ethan?”
Christ . Cameron must have ridden his bike here. Droplets of sweat trickle down his tanned skin and run into the band of his shorts, disappearing beneath the indented v-line to—
“Ethan’s working a shift at Perry’s. He got called in since the weather is nice today. There’s nothing like a good ice-cream cone when it’s sweltering.” He flicks his eyes over my bare legs, and I don’t notice until now that I’m only wearing a large T-shirt that hardly lands past my upper thighs. “I’m here for you.”
“To what, ride bikes ? I haven’t ridden one since—”
“Your fall in the third grade. I know. I was there.” He points to the picnic basket slung around the handlebar. “I wanted to see if you’ll get over your fears and ride with me at Papago Park.” He waits expectantly for my answer, but I can’t seem to get past the fact that he remembered that fall off my bike all those years ago. It was the day my crush on him first developed, and the memory slams into me like a freight train.
“Ethan, you’re going too fast! Wait up!” Cameron pedals frantically ahead of me to catch up to my brother, and I’m working double-time to keep up with both of them. They both had growth spurts this past summer, and now anywhere we go that involves physical activity is a hard-core workout for me.
The greenery and pavement whip by me in a blur as I pedal faster. Ethan is long gone now, but it isn’t the first time he’s left us in the dust. He makes everything between us a competition.
Papago Park is my favorite place to ride. It’s the only spot where I don’t feel like I’m surrounded by desert. Here, there’s a pond in the center of trails surrounded by palm trees. I’m used to cactuses and sand that comes with the year round dry heat, but this is the one place where water sometimes kisses my skin when other kids skip rocks a little too hard or the fishermen catch a big one.
When I’m older, I want to live close to the ocean.
Cameron glances over his shoulder a few feet in front of me. “Do you need me to slow down?”
“No, I—”
Before the sentence can leave my lips, my tire catches on a rock and I go flying from my bike. I brace for the impact and hold my breath, which is knocked from my lungs when my elbows connect with scorching hot asphalt.
I don’t know if it’s from the adrenaline or the pain I know I’ll soon feel, but big salty tears stream down my cheeks like an endless river. Cameron, who’s stopped trailing after Ethan, tosses his bike to the side and jogs over to me.
My entire body is shaking, and although the fall wasn’t that bad, it was still terrifying. I’ve never fallen from my bike before, and I don’t plan on it ever happening again.
“Hey, you’re okay.” He soothes me in a voice akin to honey. He grabs my arm and twists it to inspect the wound on my elbow. Blood is trickling down my forearm and dribbling onto the asphalt below. “Mads, you’re okay. Look at me.”
I lift my gaze to his, and my sobs turn into whimpers at the sympathetic grin on his face. His teeth are all braces, and his glasses are slightly crooked, but the mere presence of him beside me causes my terror to recede.
With our eyes locked, Cameron’s smile fades, and the breath catches in my lungs when he brings a hand up to my face. At this moment, nothing else matters. The kids playing a few yards away don’t exist anymore, and the chirping of the birds is drowned out by the thumping of my heart. My thoughts are jumbled as his thumb strokes my cheek to wipe away the tears, lingering longer than he should before he drops it back down to his side.
“I’ve got you,” he reassures me. “Always.”
Cameron stares at me in that deciphering way of his. I’ve always felt like he could see through every wall I’ve put up around myself, but at this moment I’m convinced he has a telepathic ability to read my thoughts.
His eyes soften as if he’s remembering that moment between us, too, and the lump in my throat becomes practically unbearable.
“If I fall . . .” I warn.
The smile he gives me in return makes my stomach bottom out. It’s devastatingly handsome, and one I’m sure he uses frequently on his conquest of the week.
“You won’t,” he replies. “I’ll make sure of it.”
—
We end up driving my car since the trunk is big and we can stow our bikes in it. My family hasn’t taken a ride together since my crash, so the bikes have been collecting dust and cobwebs in the garage ever since, which also meant we had to stop at a store along the way to buy a pump for the tires because they were flat.
But finally, we made it to Papago Park. March is the best time of year to visit Arizona, as the temperature is nearly perfect. It’s in the low eighties today, foreshadowing the first glimpse of summer, and although the pond and palm trees haven’t changed a bit and look as beautiful as ever, they’re not the sight I’m focused on.
Cameron kneels beside my bike as he pumps the last wisps of air I’ll need into the tires. His chest is glorious, and his biceps flex with every stroke of the pump. The man could be on any magazine cover in the world, and if he does make it to the NFL like others are predicting, his face will be the most sought-after one on the market for advertisements. I have no doubt.
“Fuck.” He swipes at his forehead to push back the curls stuck there. “I was expecting a leisurely bike ride, not wearing out my already-tired muscles from arm day at the gym.”
I stare pointedly at his chest while he isn’t looking and sneak some graham crackers out of the picnic basket perched beside me on the hood of my car. “It’d be a lot easier to dry your sweat if you wore a shirt .”
He lifts his eyes to mine, and the heat of his gaze almost makes me choke on the cracker. “ You want to lecture me on my outfit of choice today? Have you looked in the mirror?”
I glance down at what I chose to change into, trying but failing to hide my smile. He showed up for a bike ride without a shirt knowing the effect it would have on me, so I decided to play the game right back. I changed into the shortest and tightest athletic shorts I own along with a sports bra that leaves little to the imagination.
Now that I know he’s attracted to me, it’s difficult not to tease him about it. He’d never make a move, but the image of him thinking about me in that way late at night while he . . .
Nope!
Change of subject .
Now .
I shrug and pick at an invisible speck of lint on my shorts. “It’s hot outside.”
“Mm-hm. I’m sure.” He rises from the asphalt and pats the seat of my bike. “She’s all yours.”
Riding a bike shouldn’t be as terrifying as it is, but all I can remember is flying midair and the smack of pavement against my skin. I agreed to go bike riding with him, but now that it’s actually happening ?
“What if I don’t remember how to ride anymore?” I ask. “It’s been forever since I fell.”
“Riding a bike is one of those skills you never lose. Trust me. As soon as you pedal a couple of feet it’ll come back to you.”
Sliding off the hood of my car, I cautiously approach the bike and throw one of my legs over. The sun is beating down on my back, and the leather is practically boiling against my ass.
Cameron steps behind me and places his hands over mine on the handlebars. I can feel his bare skin against my lower back, and I pull my lip between my teeth in response to the zing of electricity. I want things to go back to the way they used to be between us, but after that night at Myrtle Beach I don’t know how they could. He almost kissed me, and even though he didn’t follow through with it, it changed everything .
He dips his head until his lips are pressed against my ear. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”
Time comes to a pause, the earth stops moving, and the only thing on my mind, the only thing that makes sense is for me to turn my head and—
“Oh my god, Cameron ?”
The moment dissipates as quickly as it appeared. Cameron takes a step back to look at a girl around my age, maybe a few years older. She’s flawless, with a perfect tiny figure. I’ve never felt self-conscious about the curves I have, but I don’t have a workout regimen, and the abs glistening on her body make me feel stupid for wearing these shorts where a tiny roll of mine shows over the top.
“It’s been a while,” she says. Her eyes slide to mine in a calculating, snarky way when she adds, “Jessica, remember?”
The silence from him is telling. He doesn’t remember her, but she doesn’t seem offended. Instead, she giggles softly and places a hand on his arm. “High school? We spent time together in the gym after cheer practice . . .”
His body stiffens, a forced smile appearing. “Oh right. Jessica. How are you?”
Dark hair to my blond. Skinny to my curvy. Hazel eyes to my ocean blues. We’re complete opposites, and that seems to be the trend for him. The girls he’s into are the complete opposite of me. Sadie with her red hair and freckles, Jessica with brunet locks. Then again, maybe Cameron is the kind of guy who doesn’t have a type. He sleeps around a lot.
“Are you going to Jamie’s party tonight? Becca thought you might come.”
Is this what spring break consists of? Partying every other day and getting shit-faced? Granted, with no school or finals to study for, what else is there to do around here? The desert doesn’t have much else to offer.
“Probably not. I train during the week, so all my focus has to be on that.”
She glances between us again. “Is that what you’re doing? Training?”
After a moment of contemplation, he dips his chin in acknowledgment. “Cardio is part of my training, so sometimes I like to bike instead of run.”
Is that what this is?
Training?
Am I just a placeholder to keep him company while he gets in shape for football?
No .
If that was the case, he wouldn’t have packed a picnic basket for us. He can’t tell Jessica we’re here as friends because, since she went to high school with him, she more than likely knows Ethan too. I’ve never seen her before, but I also wasn’t in their class. If Jessica was to go back and say she saw us together alone with a picnic basket, it would undoubtedly raise questions.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll see you later tonight.” Her hand stays far too long on his forearm, and the bitter taste it leaves in my mouth lingers long after she jogs off to complete her workout.
I’d rather crash this bike than deal with the aftermath of that conversation, so I take off without his help.
Just as he suspected, the motion comes back to me within the first minute, and then I’m pedaling at a leisurely pace, keeping my eyes trained on the road in front of me while I search for any rocks in my way.
Cameron catches up to me in less than thirty seconds, keeping pace beside me. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, the words short and clipped.
“Really? Because it seems like you have something to say.”
Twisting my head to glance at him briefly, I snap my eyes back to the path in front of us and say, “Other than the fact you’re a total dick? Not really.”
He tosses his head back with laughter. “Ah, there’s the Maddie I missed. Tell me, how am I dick?”
“You didn’t even remember her name. Have you slept with that many girls?”
“I didn’t realize this bike ride would result in me opening up about my sexual history.” It’s meant to be a joke, but he seems to sense the brewing anger inside me because he adds, “Honestly? Yeah. I’ve slept around. However, the girls I sleep with know it won’t turn into anything serious. I’m a fan of getting laid, not breaking hearts.”
Just mine, then?
The sentence is on the tip of my tongue, and I bite down so hard on it I fear it might bleed.
“Consensual sex isn’t a bad thing,” he continues. “I’m not going to feel guilty or ashamed of my body count. I’m safe, and that’s what matters.”
“I’m not saying you should feel ashamed , but don’t you want to reserve some of that intimacy for the person you end up with for the rest of your life?”
Trees and blue sky whiz by us in a blur. Cameron pedals until he’s slightly ahead of me, but after a minute or so he says, “I think fucking and making love are two different things, and with the right person, I’ll be able to enjoy both. There hasn’t been a girl I’ve fucked yet where I’ve wanted to do both, so until then, I’ll wait.”
Right . Because that girl will never be me. It’s a constant reminder every second I’m around him, and regardless of if I want it, he’ll never go against my brother. He may find me attractive, but it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough.
“On the bright side, I think the girl I marry will appreciate all the practice I’ve had,” he says with a laugh, oblivious to the pain searing my heart. “All of the skills I’ve honed over the years will be for her and only her, you know?”
I can only nod in agreement because I don’t trust myself to speak.
It makes me feel like an utter idiot for pushing other guys away for him. He’s been having the time of his life gathering skills for the girl he ends up with, which clearly isn’t going to be me, and I’ve been what? Reading books? Doing homework? Isolating myself and waiting to see if he’ll make a move?
What a useless way to spend my time.
It makes me want to act irrationally. It makes me want to ask Ethan for Mark’s number and take him up on his offer to take me on a date. Maybe he’ll be at that party tonight. I’m sure Maya knows. Maybe I’ll shock the entire town of Wickenburg and attend back-to-back parties like I actually enjoy it and know what I’m doing. Maybe I’ll go live my best life and hone my own skills.
“Want to stop here and eat?” Cameron jerks his head to a clearing overlooking the pond, and while I prop my bike against a tree next to his, he grabs the picnic basket and walks us over to a bench.
I ignore how right it feels as my thigh brushes against his, along with the pitter-pattering of my heart when he pulls out a slew of my favorite foods. The graham crackers I snuck a few bites of earlier, Doritos, a turkey sandwich with mayo and—specifically—American cheese.
I’m moving to take a bite of my sandwich when I hear the sound of a Tupperware lid opening. Cameron has a salad rather than a sandwich. It’s piled high with chicken, avocado, and a boiled egg, from what I can see.
“Looks delicious,” I say dryly.
He shrugs and takes a bite. Then, with a mouthful of food, he says, “Training. I have to eat clean and get as much protein as possible. My dad came up with the diet plan, and it’s helped me build a lot of muscle this year.”
I purse my lips, trying to hide my frown. “It’s amazing how involved he is with your future career even from thousands of miles away. I mean, if you want to eat boiled eggs for eternity then by all means, be my guest. However, I know you love pizza almost as much as I do.”
He gives me a knowing look. “Come on, Mads. You know why I’m taking my dad’s advice.”
Unfortunately, I do, and I think Cameron’s father puts way too much pressure on him to make it to the big leagues. Stacy, Cameron’s mother, was the biggest football fan of all time. She was born and raised in Pennsylvania, and when she was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer Cameron made it his mission to become the greatest player at West Bridge, smack dab in the middle of Pennsylvania, to become closer to her.
His dad was already heavily involved in Cameron’s football endeavors, but after Stacy’s passing, it became obsessive. They’re two men going through an insurmountable loss, and it seems the only way they can handle the grief is to live vicariously through Stacy’s love of football.
I’d never bring Stacy up since I know how sensitive a subject it is to Cameron. I haven’t discussed his mother since the day after she passed, and with the way that conversation went, I don’t ever want to bring her up again.
However, if I did have the courage, I’d ask what happens if he does make it to the NFL? What happens to all that pent-up grief when he realizes making it to the big leagues doesn’t heal him in the way he assumes it would? Stacy was the sweetest soul. She was the type of woman who would take the shirt off her back for anyone. I know it would kill her to see Cameron scarfing down boiled eggs to achieve an expectation she never had for him.
But Cameron isn’t the only one who lost a role model. Since Stacy and my mom were best friends, she used to babysit me frequently, and some of my favorite memories are of her allowing me to be her hairdresser and do her makeup. She’d look ridiculous in hair curlers, and her face looked like a clown, but she claimed to love it. She’d always tell me she wanted a daughter, too, so she was more than willing to be my test subject on all things girl related. She was someone I looked up to, and although I wasn’t her biological daughter, the empty space in my heart sure as hell felt like it.
Stacy only wanted us to be happy, yet we’re both killing ourselves to try to fill the space she left.
Dammit .
The anger I felt earlier toward him vanishes.
Cameron is still grieving, and although I’m concerned about him fucking his way through life and using girls to numb his emotions, at the end of the day, he’s not mine to care about.
He never was.
He never will be .
And it’s about time I start living like it.