Play With Me

Ryan shouted. He stood over me and offered me his hand to pull me
up. “You okay?”
    I said nothing
but nodded. My voice would have betrayed me otherwise. He sent me back into the
game.
    The pain from
that little escapade wasn’t completely gone, when Cloey got me again. I cursed
her in a volume loud enough to compete with a police siren, but it ricocheted
off her thick head. As it happened a third time, I knew she was doing this on
purpose. And from then on I didn’t touch the ball anymore, not to give her a
reason to kill me out on the field.
    After the game, Tony
worked his fingers into the muscles at my neck as I hunched on the bench. “If I
had known you’re actually such a good player, I would have made you play with
me every day after school.”
    I gave an
irritated snort. His being nice did little to mend my broken pride—or bones.
“That girl chose the wrong sports. She’d be a pro at kick-boxing.”
    “Who? Cloey?” At
least this time, he didn’t deny that she was after my life. “Did she get you bad?”
    I scowled at him
over my shoulder. “She was like an eighteen-wheeler. Unstopped.”
    He bit his lip. “She
can be an aggressive player.”
    Which put it
mildly. I sighed. “Are you going to hang here much longer? Because I really
need to go home and tend my bruised shin.” And then I was still grounded, of
course.
    The pause he
took to scan the playing field made me wonder if he was looking out for the
troll with the bad temper. The flames of anger and jealousy licked up my spine.
But she seemed to have gone already.
    “I’m coming,” he
said.
    On the way to
our bikes, we crossed Ryan’s path. He cut a brief glance to my leg and winced
at the color. “Put ice on that ankle. I want you fit tomorrow.”
    The thought of
more torture coming at me in just a few hours rendered me silent.
    “What does he
mean? There’s no training with the girls tomorrow. Just us guys,” Tony pointed
out as we walked on.
    Okay, I figured
it was time to spill. “Ryan is doing some personal training with me.”
    Tony could have
said many things then, like asking me why, or where, or even when it happened I
was insane enough to agree to that. But he chose to say the most stupid thing
of all.
    “With you?”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    “Sorry, I didn’t
mean to sound like an ass. But…are we seriously talking about Hunter?” He
snorted, and I should have kicked him in the butt for it.
    “What’s your
problem with that?”
    “No problem.” He
mounted his bike, waiting for me to get the number-combination of my lock
right. “Just thought you were grounded.”
    “I am.”
    “And you get out
of the house for the training how?”
    Now I avoided
his gaze, stand-kicking into the pedals to get ahead of him. “Same way you get
in.”
    He had no
trouble catching up with me. “You’re sneaking out? For Ryan Hunter?” If
Tony was implying that I never did it for him, he let that leak from every
syllable.
    “So what?”
    Tony cast me a
sideways glance, his lips tight in a weak attempt at hiding a grin. “Here I’m
gone for just a few weeks, and you turn into quite the Kinder surprise.”
    Hell, yeah. And
I couldn’t even stand those goddamn chocolate eggs.
    “So, now that
you’re acquainted with the exclusive way in and out of your room, want to come
to Charlie’s for a drink with the others?”
    “I’m not doing
this during the day, Tony. My mom isn’t that ignorant. Hunter picks me
up at five in the morning.” I whined. “He makes me run at the beach.”
    “Ah, fun
guaranteed.”
    “I swear the man
is Satan in the flesh.”
    We reached my
house, and while I got off my bike, Tony placed one foot to the pavement and
studied me with those intense blue eyes. “You know I still don’t get it. Why
are you torturing yourself for sports you loathed all your life?”
    “I never loathed
soccer.”
    “You said it was
the fifth, never mentioned plague that would bring the world down.”
    Did I really say
that? Wow, the man was good.
    As I wheeled my
bike into the shed, Tony’s raised voice drifted to me. “Is Hunter the reason?”
    I froze, staring
at Dad’s fishing rods for an infinite moment. A piss-glare on my face, I finally
walked outside, slowly, then leaned against the doorframe with my arms folded
over my chest. “What in the world makes you think that?”
    Tony had propped
his forearms on the handle bar of his bike, leaning forward in a casual way. “Well,
you two are pretty close