Kick (Completion Series) (3 page)

I
rubbed my eyes, tearing myself from the painful memories of my past. I began packing my suitcase. When finished, I dipped some celery into peanut butter for dinner. After straightening my apartment, I crawled into bed, needing sleep. As tired as I was, I had trouble shutting down my brain. It pissed me off that my last thought before I fell asleep was Van Stelson’s ripped chest.

I took a cab to the airport t
hree hours before my plane departed. Traffic was a gnarly mess even though there wasn’t a ray of sunlight in the sky. Welcome to the city. I had an hour and a half to relax after checking my bag and making it through security. When I woke up that morning, I swore I would hold my head high. No shirking from eye contact. I caught myself looking down repeatedly, but with sheer willpower, I jerked my head up each time. I settled into a corner table at Starbucks with a latte, compliments of my
Journal
credit card. After pulling out my iPad, I continued my lessons in the foreign language of rugby. I also had my old college laptop that needed to get me through until Christmas. It would be the only Christmas item on my list for my parents this year.

I have
no idea why I typed Van’s name in the search engine first. It was ridiculous that I found myself attracted to him. Jock and most eligible bachelor. He and I would never happen. I could just imagine all the women throwing themselves at his smelly jock feet. Yuck.

I
clicked through the list and found a grainy image of Joel that I overlooked the night before. He couldn’t have been much more than a teenager when the picture was taken. The brothers could be twins. Double yuck. I continued scanning and found another photo of Van in his rugby uniform that had me taking a too large gulp from my hot cup.

That’s it
. I deserved a burnt tongue. Muscles, dimples, and blue eyes were no longer my thing, and my racing heart was because of my nervousness over flying. Adjusting my glasses, I started memorizing ridiculous rugby terms that made no sense. Thirty minutes before my plane departed, I clicked off my iPad and walked with my head held high to my gate.

Once I took my seat on the
mid-sized crowded plane, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the screaming baby in the row behind me. I had the window seat with two men sitting next to me. We didn’t talk, and I quickly fell into a coma-like sleep and made it through the first airplane ride in my life.

We landed an hour
and a half later. The airport was small though it had one car rental company which was listed on my itinerary. I picked up my car for the hour long drive to Colt. From my research, I knew its population was just over fifty thousand with a medium-sized state college and absolutely nothing else to attract anyone. I refused to consider rugby an attraction of any kind. For some strange reason this was where the Stelson brothers made their home.

My hotel was a quaint
inn off the highway. As I waited for the middle-aged clerk to finish up with a customer who entered before me, I timidly looked around the lobby and noticed the pictures on the wall. On closer inspection, I realized they were rugby teams and action shots of games.

“May I help you
, Miss?”

I turned
, immediately lowering my eyes to the tiled floor. Damn. No. I had to change the habit and make eye contact part of my muscle memory. I lifted my gaze. “I have a reservation for Cami Avesque.”

He clicked away on the computer, printed out a sheet for me to sign,
swiped my company credit card in case I wanted to order something to the room, and handed over a key card.

Before I walked away, I
shrugged another bit of timidity aside. “Is there a picture of the current rugby team anywhere?”

“You want the college team or The Slam?
”

Such
a stupid name. “The Slam, please.”

He showed me the
current pictures as he continued talking. “The Slam Tavern is next door and a great place to eat. If you go down another block and turn left, the stadium is about a mile from the main road. Playoff match this Saturday. Practically the entire town hits the home matches, but let me know if you want a ticket. I have a few connections.”

“Thank you, I’ll do that.” I gave
him a small smile. I didn’t bother telling him I’d be there front and center, because that would require more conversation. I also didn’t tell him that the last thing I wanted was to witness a bunch of grown men roll around in the dirt and act like little boys. I turned back to the team pictures after he returned to the desk. I spotted Van’s easy grin right away. He stood in the middle of his teammates with his arm thrown over the shoulder of another man. I leaned in closer to the picture. The other man’s face showed a long scar running from under his eye to his mouth, which pulled in his upper lip slightly. The other side of his face was the perfect replica of his brother’s. The unknown story behind the scar had me staring at Joel Stelson for several minutes. He was larger than his brother, his eyes more serious. A wave of regret rolled over me and then I mentally shook myself. Joel had dumb, muscle-bound jock written all over him regardless of the scar. I walked away, found my room, and sent a text to Van, whose number was the only contact on my schedule. I sincerely hoped he was at least semi-intelligent.

Me:
This is Cami Avesque with the Cleveland News and Journal. I’m in my hotel room and wanted to confirm our morning appointment.

I began hanging up my clothes
so the wrinkles could mostly fall out. The soft ping of my phone sounded.

Van:
Tomorrow morning 7 stadium locker room.

That was it.

Okay then.

I was hungry and
after looking at the local restaurant guide, I decided to walk to The Slam Tavern to see if I could order a salad. The name of the place didn’t leave any real hope that they’d have healthy food, but it was close and worth a try.

I nervously glanced around t
he dark interior. Before I could leave, a female shout came from the back. “Grab a menu and seat yourself. I’ll be with you in a sec.”

A stack of laminated menus rested on the counter by the door. I picked up the top one and quickly found the salads. Maybe this would work. My stomach
ached with hunger, so I walked to the far corner and took a seat after placing my scrap bag down beside me in the booth. I pulled my iPad from my bag and switched it on, relieved to have a little extra light.

Before I could cli
ck into my email, the waitress arrived with a glass of water.

“Sorry
, hun, I’m it out front tonight, but the cook’s in the back if you’re hungry. I’m Estella by the way. Haven’t seen you around. Welcome to Colt and The Slam Tavern. My feet are killing me and my back hurts, but that’s age catching up with me. My youngest just had her second baby and now I have four grandchildren. I’ll tell you that makes me feel older. What can I get you to drink?”

Estella was in her mid to late
fifties. She had laugh lines around her eyes like my mom’s. I relaxed for the first time since waking up this morning. She was one of those special people who shy people loved. She talked your ear off without waiting for acknowledgment.

“
Could you recommend a red wine?” I asked hopefully.

Her lips twitched before she
threw back her head and laughed… loudly. A little too loudly if you asked me. I glanced around. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see two men at the bar and they were looking my way.

“Don’t worry
, honey, I’ll fix you up with our only red wine. We’re known for our beer and the hard stuff, but we keep a bit of wine on hand. You stayin’ at the Inn?”

I really needed that wine
; it always added a small boost to my courage. “Yes, I am.”

“Okay, pick what you want off the menu
. I’ll grab you a glass and be right back for your order.”

She winked at me and I realized I needed to loosen up a bit
more; the wine would help. I also needed to remember I had dreams of being a successful journalist. I needed to tough uncomfortable situations out and grow some balls. I took a sip of water, stiffened my spine, and looked around. More pictures of the local rugby teams lined the walls. Trophies and plaques too. The entire tavern paid homage to rugby.

Estella se
t my wine glass down. “What did you decide, hun?”

My smile was a bit wider this time
. “I’ll have the dinner salad.”

She reached in front of me and opened the menu. “That’s nothing but a few pieces of lettuce, a single cherry tomato, and two slices of cucumber. Try the chef salad and I’ll have
Dusty throw a little extra on it for you.”

Of course my stomach picked this
exact moment to gurgle, so how could I argue. “Umm, okay, with vinegar and oil please.” Exercise and I didn’t mix, so I had to settle for walking at a fast pace when I could and constantly watching calories.

“Taste that wine and tell me what you think.”

Here goes nothing. I gave it a small test sniff and then under Estella’s watchful eye, took a sip of the nastiest-tasting wine I’d ever had. It was a fight to control my facial muscles and not give my distaste away. Without choking, I managed to speak. “Good, thank you.”

“If you’re around tomorrow night we’ll fix you up something that’ll put some hair on your chest.”

How could I answer that? Hair was already popping up here and there from the wine. “Umm, okay?”

Estella laughed full out again. “I like you
, hun. How long you staying with us?”

“
I’m not sure. A few days at least.” If The Slam lost this week’s game, my short exposé on rugby would come to an abrupt halt. That wishful thought had me doing a happy dance in my head.

“Will you be
around for the big match Saturday?”

“
Yes, I should be.”

“Well if you are, let me know and I’ll hold you a seat
in the tavern. We start filling up as soon as the match ends.”

“Thank you
, I’ll do that.” Estella looked past my sloppy clothes and huge glasses, making me feel welcome. I was sure she never met anyone who wasn’t an instant friend. I would give anything to have her confidence. She left to help a new customer, and I finished checking my email. There was one from Ted.

Sorry
we didn’t speak before you left. If I had your number, I’d have given you a heads up. Congratulations, and yes, this is my way of asking for your number.

Ted

Oh crap, my cheeks burned. I had no friends at work. I kept my head down and did my job while avoiding as much office conversation and gossip as possible. I brought my lunch and ate at my desk with a book opened in front of me. When I first started at the
Journal
, some of the women invited me out, but I shyly refused. They stopped asking and most of the time I think they forgot I was even there. When Ted spoke to me, I rarely looked up. He seemed like a nice guy, a little old for me, but he’d never been anything but professional. Had I somehow given him the wrong impression? Did he arrange this assignment because of it? I panicked over situations like this and it was the last thing I needed. I counted to twenty as I calmed my breathing.

On my third count to twenty, m
y salad arrived with a slice of apple pie. “I’ll put it in a to-go box if you need me to. A little homemade apple pie never hurt anyone.” Estella gave me a wink and strolled away.

I
moved my iPad aside and tentatively took a bite of salad, refusing to look at the pie. The vinegar and oil was pre-applied and a little more than I liked, but it was good. I ate the turkey and the boiled egg, pushing the other meat to the side, managing to eat half the large salad.

Without me asking, Estella brought a small Styrofoam box
with a wrapped plastic fork for the pie. After I left, I thought about slipping the box into the Inn’s garbage dumpster, but the free pie was such a nice gesture. I’d save it in the small room fridge and maybe take a bite or two in the morning. I knew it would taste delicious because everything fattening always did.

I
closed my hotel room door behind me with a sigh of relief. I’d faced my fears the entire day and survived. Now it was my time. I removed my clothes, taking off the tight bra and massaging my breasts. There was a full mirror on the small closet door. Indents lined my skin from the bra. I dropped my hands and stared at myself. My huge breasts made my waist appear smaller than it was. Though my nipples pointed straight out, my breasts sagged slightly. In a few years it would be much worse. I pulled a large nightshirt over my head. I slept with nothing beneath the cotton material. If my career took off after this, I would start saving more than a few coins here and there for the surgery that would make me normal. Exhaustion from no sleep the night before and a day of travel rolled over me. Once my head hit the pillow, I dreamed of apple pie.

The stadium wasn’t hard to find
. Its size surprised me. I expected a field, a few buildings, and some bleachers. What I got was a top-notch sports complex.