Seduced by the Game (50 page)

"What the hell are
you doing here?" He jerked me in off his stoop like I was a mangy tomcat
returning after a week of debauchery. I shook free of his grip. The foyer of
his house was incredible. Dark paneling, bronze wall sconces to carry the
Spanish feel inside, a thriving green plant as tall as I was.

"Yeah, hi to you
too." I stepped back from the man. He glanced up the steps leading to what
I assumed was his living room. Cam reached over to dim the light hanging over
our heads. My stomach did some sort of sick flip-flop. "Do you have another
man here?"

"Of course not!"
He tried to take my arm once more. "I’m sorry for being so curt, but
you’re not supposed to be here."

"I need a place to
crash," I said, morbidly intrigued by how his brown eyes flitted all over.
The fucker was hiding something. Then she stepped into view at the top of the
steps. A young woman of perhaps sixteen with long brown hair, wide brown eyes,
and Cam’s nose. I gaped at the teenager. She hugged her lean midsection in a
move so typically teen girl I almost smiled. She was dressed casually like her
father, jeans and sweaters for both. "Hi there!"

"Hi." She hugged
herself tighter. I pushed around Cam.

"My name’s
Jacobi," I said as I climbed closer to her with my hand out. She eyed my
palm warily then glanced at her father.

"He plays on the
Pumas, Jane."

I turned to look at Cam.
The. Mother. Fucker. He had never mentioned me to her. Probably he never even
told her about us, or his homosexuality. When I found his eyes, he beseeched me
to remain silent with his gaze.

"Oh, yes! I recall reading
about you on the internet." She continued to talk. I stood on the third
step with my mouth open an inch as my heart hung in fucking tatters.

"I, uhm, I’m sorry to
interrupt. I just, yeah, I’ll be on my way." Cam opened the door. I
stepped outside in a trance. Like a zombie I stumbled down the steps, the
sudden blast of frigid air making my eyes water.

"Jacobi, I just need
more time." That was Cam whispering at me. I didn’t reply. I left him to
his secrets. I was done with him. Done with the lies, the pain, and the need to
coddle Cam Evans. From this point on, his position was up for grabs. I hoped
losing his spot as the starting goalie hurt as badly as what I just endured.

My feet carried me an
entire block unbeknownst to my brain. I stopped when a pair of halogen lights
swept over me. I turned, eyes shielded with the back of my hand. I guessed it
was a cop coming to check on the stranger strolling around Fox Chapel.

"Jacobi!" the
driver shouted. I raised a lip at Cam. The headlights died. I saw he drove a
red BMW X5. Classy. I spun around then pounded down the sidewalk. He drove
along beside me, the Beemer’s lights off. "Jacobi, would you stop acting
like such a petulant child and let me explain?"

I stopped walking. I threw
him a glare. "Petulant? You think that was petulant?" I asked through
clenched teeth. Then I strolled over and kicked the driver’s side door in.
"
That
was petulant." I gave the door another kick just for the
giggles.

Cam came out of his car
like his ass was aflame. I had time to get my arms up but he didn’t throw the
punch I had expected. He tackled me to the ground then he threw a sloppy left.
I blocked it with ease. We then got into a rolling, kicking sort of show where
we spent more time pounding each other on the back then we did actually trying
to connect with the knuckle to face. A porch light coming on broke up the
skirmish. I staggered to my feet. Cam backed up to his car.

"I swear our lives
would be so much easier if I just yelled your fucking secret out for the whole
neighborhood to hear!" I threw the words at him like a sharpened dagger.
He physically jerked at the threat. "Don’t worry, I wouldn’t out
anyone." His big body remained tense. I padded closer so the conversation
would be private." You stay the fuck away from me, you lying prick. I am
so
done sucking your dick in both the physical and literal terms." I jabbed
an icy cold finger into his designer jacket with each word.

"If you would just
let me explain, Jacobi." I threw a hand up into the air to silence the man.
It worked. His kissable lips flattened out. I stalked off into the night,
ignoring the call from Cam’s neighbor. I heard Cam feeding the concerned
homeowner a line of bullshit about one of his teammates being a little tipsy.
Cam was good at lying. Truth told, he was a fucking expert at deception. It
suddenly hurt to suck in a breath. I blamed it on the painfully cold air.

* * * *

The following morning at
scrimmage I played as if my life depended on it. Revenge is a mighty strong
drive. It spurs a person onward better than any motivational speaker. After
paying for another cab ride home, I lay in bed all night, plotting out how best
to hurt Cam. I know. It was petty, little, mean, small-minded, and shitty of
me. If my mother knew I was being such a rotten person, she would weep. Did I
want to make my mother cry? No. But I was in pain. That’s my defense for being
a massive bottle of feminine refreshment anyway. After the AM skate I sat in
silence beside Cam, removing pads and tape with erratic, aggressive movements.
We never spoke a word to each other. I was so intent on ignoring the pretender
I never saw Ivan until his big feet were in my line of vision. Cam and I both
raised our heads simultaneously.

"What do you think,
Cam? Are you here?" Ivan paused to tap his temple." Are you ready
for  the start?" I slipped a sneaky look at the legend. His chin was up,
his eyes bright.

"The best way out of
a slump is to play through it, right?" Ivan nodded at that reasoning
before he walked away. I felt Cameron looking at me. "I wish you would
meet me somewhere so we could–"

I got to my feet, peeled
off my leggings then went to the showers. I hoped he enjoyed looking at my ass
because that was all he would ever do with it again. The blast of water hit me
in the chest. It stung for a moment. How the hell had my life gotten so
convoluted in such a short span of time? And the really stupid-ass thing was
that I wasn’t in the shitpit quite deep enough, I guess. I then went home to
compound the mess even more. This cluster was my own doing. My bruised heart
prodded me along, whispering rancid, hurtful things into my ear, until I found
myself knocking on the door of Brad’s room, my mind whirling with dark glee at
the thought of rubbing this under Cam’s regal nose. Brad was surprised to see
me looking so contrite. I was surprised to see him in nothing but a towel
knotted around his waist.

"Look, man, I was in
a bad place last night," I mumbled, hand kneading the back of my neck.
"I didn’t mean to say that shit to you. I wanted what happened between us
to happen. Maybe I was scared of it, you know?"

Brad leaned a strong
shoulder to the doorframe, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "So you’re
saying what here, exactly? That you wanted me all along but were afraid to
admit it?"

I nodded. He folded his
arms over his chest. The time to act was here so I leaned into him for a soft,
searching kiss. It lacked the fire that Cam and I had when tongue slid over
tongue, but that didn’t matter. I was done with emotion. All I wanted now was sex
I could use as retribution. Somewhere in Jersey my mother was feeling a huge
disturbance in the Force. I was just about to slide my hand inside Brad’s towel
when my cell phone chirruped in my front pocket. The vibration did pleasant
things to my groin. Brad pulled away slowly as I fumbled to tug my phone free.
As soon as I saw who it was, the semi-erection I had wilted.

"It’s my mom." I
seriously didn’t know what to do.

"Let voice mail pick
it up." I shook my head. I guess that was it. Brad rolled his eyes then
closed his door in my face.

"Hey Mom," I
said as I dragged myself back to my room.

"Jacobi, did you keep
the receipt for the sweater you bought me for Christmas?" I dove onto the
bed then rolled to my back.

"Maybe," I said
as I stared at the ceiling.

"Honey, are you
okay?"

No, Mom, I was not okay. I
was so fucking confused that I almost seduced a man I didn’t want in order to
stab the man I loved in the heart. I wanted to cry. Or punch someone. Or fuck
someone. In lieu of those options…

"Mom, you got a few
minutes?"

* * * *

As soon as I walked into
the locker room, I could feel the tension. It settled on the skin like August
humidity. The team was already anxious. I dressed in silence. My mother had
told me quite a lot during our forty-five minute talk. Cam was already geared
up. He sat stiffly, lost in the world he entered before a game. My fingers
itched to touch him. Mom had imparted lots of wisdom to me, some useful, some
just comparative. After the mother/son chat I had spent an hour and a half
lying on my bed, hands resting on my stomach, thinking while staring at the
newly-painted ceiling.

"Jacobi." My
mother had chided as only a mother can. "Why would you pull away from the
man when he needs you most?"

"He hurt me,
Mom."

"Of course he did.
He’s hurting inside too deeply to do anything else. Try offering him your
support again. Being mean isn’t like you, son."

"What if he lies to
me again? What if he never comes out?"

"Do you remember
learning to ride a bike?"

I could not figure out
what this had to do with two gay men having relationship problems.

"Vaguely."

"You were ten."
I could hear the reflective smile in her voice. "You were so scared of
riding that bike without training wheels. Your father refused to let you give
up, though. Every day after school for over three months he would hold the back
of that seat as he ran alongside you. Some people need someone to hold onto
them a little longer than others when they’re afraid."

Yep. She had gotten me
right in the feels.

"Hey." Cam’s
dark eyes opened slowly  I could see the unease lingering in those chocolate
depths. I slid closer to him. He watched me closely, perhaps waiting for me to
attack him again. All I wanted was to hold him. "I understand why you
didn’t tell Jane."

"Jacobi…"

"I know. It’s cool. I
shouldn’t be pushing you to do something you’re not ready to do. I’m still with
you. "I patted his thigh. I couldn’t feel his toned thigh, of course, not
with all the padding. The sentiment was there even if the sensation wasn’t. Cam
placed his hand over mine. He held on tight. My eyes flew around the locker
room then came back to Cam.

"I told her. She,
uhm… She still loves me."

"I love you, too, you
know?"

Cam nodded. His eyes were
dewy. He lifted my hand, his fingers trembling strongly.

"I know. The feeling
is quite mutual." His lips were soft on my knuckles. Then he stood up. I
held onto him as he cleared his throat. The locker room fell silent. I ran
alongside him as his training wheels fell off one shaky confession at a time. I
am still running alongside him five years later. Now it’s me with the upstart
pup sitting in the corner eying my crease with lust.

Cam finds that highly
entertaining.

# # #

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

V.L. Locey loves worn
jeans, belly laughs, anything romantic, Greek mythology, New York Rangers
hockey, comic books and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She
shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer
named after a famous N.H.L. goalie,  a pig with a President`s moniker, and
a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

V.L. is a self-published
and conventionally published author. She is a proud Torquere Press and Secret
Cravings Publishing author. When not writing romantic tales, she can be found
enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a
cup of fresh java in hand, writing, or cheering on her beloved New York
Rangers. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, and GoodReads.

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Sommerland

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