Real Players Never Lose by Micalea Smeltzer
Teddy
I wakeup to Zoey’s screech. Slamming my hands over my ears, I groan, “Mom, stop screaming.”
Her hand covers her heart, eyes threatening to bug out of her head. “You have got to stop sneaking in here. Give us the key back.”
Cole pops around the corner, lips pursed when he finds me on the couch in my boxers. “Dude, how many times have we told you this has to stop?”
“Where else am I supposed to go? My dorm is basically a twenty-four-seven revolving door of pussy thanks to Jude. The guy would be better off seeing a therapist like a normal person.”
“Do you see a therapist?” Cole crosses his arms over his chest in challenge.
“Of course. I video chat Phil once a week. Cool guy. He recently got hair plugs, though, and it looks hella weird, but good for him. I’m sure it’ll be great when they grow in fully.”
Cole looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I can never tell if you’re being serious or bullshitting me.”
“’And that’s one secret I’ll never tell. You know you love me—'”
He holds up a hand. “Are you re-watching Gossip Girl again?”
“Chuck Bass is bae.”
He rubs his face. “Take a shower and put your clothes on.”
“Come on, Dad. I wanted some more sleep.”
“We,” he wags a finger between Zoey and him, “have class, so you can’t stay here.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll lock up on my way out.”
“Nuh-huh.” He shakes his head forcefully. “You leave when we leave.”
“Fine,” I grumble, rolling off the couch. Scratching my stomach, I bend over and scoop up my pile of clothes. “I’ll go take that shower now.”
“Mhmm.” Cole watches me through narrowed eyes. “You do that. That was some kiss you and Vanessa had last night,” he taunts after me.
I stop halfway down the hall to react, looking back to find him walking over to Zoey in the kitchen. He wraps his arms around her from behind, and she giggles when he kisses her neck. I would never admit it to anyone, I’m a man and I have my pride, but I’m envious of their love. It’s so easy, and natural. It’s nothing like the cold and clinical ‘love’ I grew up around that I now realize was never love at all, but the word used as a weapon.
I think of the kiss, how Vanessa’s body felt clasped against mine, and swallow thickly. I can’t think about it—can’t allow myself to go there with my thoughts.
Locking myself in the bathroom, I clean up and put last night’s clothes on. They smell like stale beer and cheese from Harvey’s, but I’ll swing by my dorm and change before I go to class.
I’m going to have to do something about Jude bringing so many girls back to our room. I hate to cramp the dude’s style, but I need to be able to sleep and also not get crucified by my father for someone else’s mistakes. I already make enough of my own.
The most ironic part of it all is my dad changed his mind about me living off campus with Cole because he thought there was a higher chance of there being girls and parties.
It worked out for Cole and Zoey, though. He needed a roommate, she needed a place to live, and in the end they fell in love with each other.
Leaving the bathroom, my stomach rumbles at the smell of bacon and eggs.
“Mom, please tell me you made breakfast for me, too.”
Zoey rolls her eyes, setting out three plates. “I would never leave you out, T.”
I hug her side and kiss her cheek, getting swatted on the back of my head from Cole.
“Don’t touch my girl like that.”
“Come on, man. I didn’t mean anything by it, and you know it.”
I can’t help it that I’m a touchy person. I blame it on the lack of affection I had growing up. Now I’m trying to make up for it.
Cole grumbles something unintelligible around his mouthful of food. I sit down beside him, Zoey on his other side, and dig in.
“This is great, thanks, Z.”
“Thank Cole. He does most of the cooking.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m honored you didn’t leave me out of breakfast.”
He sighs, looking to the heavens for answers. “Can I please have your key back now? You don’t even live here.”
I pretend to think for a second. “No.”
“I’m changing the locks,” he mutters.
“You can’t.”
“I’ll ask the landlord.”
We both know he won’t. “Okay, Dad.”
* * *
I’mtired as fuck after baseball practice, my muscles aching and sore. Sure, I work out regularly on my own, but Coach has been putting us through the wringer, and it’s showing in the way I can hardly move.
I pop a couple of Aleve before I pack up my stuff and head out, muttering goodbye as I go. I ignore the strange looks from Mascen and Murray. I’m too tired to worry about it, and I need to get over to The Burger Palace to see Vanessa.
I hope to God we can fool my parents this weekend, but my gut tells me that one dinner isn’t going to be enough to satisfy my father. The prick will enjoy dragging this out and making me sweat.
Getting into my car outside the practice facility, I shoot her a text, letting her know I’m on my way. I’m not sure if she’ll even have time to check her phone while she’s working, but if she does get the chance, at least she’ll know.
I’ve never been to The Burger Palace before. It’s a diner outside of town, and I don’t usually go anywhere except Harvey’s. I’ve never even been to the fancy Italian restaurant that Mascen’s girlfriend Rory works at.
Twenty minutes later I’m parking in the lot outside of the diner, cringing at the state of most of the vehicles there and praying nothing happens to mine while I’m inside.
Grabbing my backpack off the passenger seat—I figured I could get some studying in during the times I can’t talk to Vanessa—I groan from the pain in my right shoulder. I’m going to have to ice it when I get back to the dorm.
And fuck, I can’t forget to have a conversation with Jude about the girl situation.
Walking into the diner, the smell of greasy cheeseburgers and salty fries hits my nostrils. After practice, the last thing I should be eating is this kind of food, but man, it smells amazing.
I look around for Vanessa and spot her taking an order. She must feel my eyes on her, because she looks over jolting a little in surprise. Maybe she didn’t think I was serious about showing. With the end of her pen, she indicates a booth for me to sit at.
Shrugging my backpack off, I dig out my laptop and my business management textbook. I still can’t figure out why we have to keep wasting money on physical textbooks when the internet exists.
A few minutes later Vanessa swings by my table, a dark curl trying to escape her hair-clip.
“Hi.” Her voice is soft, and I can sense the underlying awkwardness there that needs to disappear before this weekend. She can be awkward with my parents, since she’ll be meeting them for the first time, but not me. It’ll be a dead giveaway that this is a farce. “Here’s a menu.” She sets it on the table beside my computer. “You want anything to drink?”
“Water’s fine.”
“Okay,” she jerks her head in a nod, “I get a break in an hour, but I’ll check on you as much as I can.”
“Thanks.” I smile at her, sliding the menu closer to me.
She walks away and my eyes zero in on her full, round ass. A light-yellow dress hugs each and every one of her curves.
My dick stirs in my pants and I grind my teeth together. I cannot afford to be getting boners over my fake girlfriend. I’ve been good this year, stayed celibate since July, and I don’t need to screw things up now.
Vanessa comes back a moment later with my water in a red plastic cup with Coca-Cola scrawled on the side.
“First question of the evening,” I start before she can run away from me, “what’s your favorite candy?”
“You know those blue and white shark gummies?” I nod my head, recalling it. “Those are my favorite. I haven’t had them in years, though. What about you?”
“Skittles. The orange one in particular.”
“Interesting. I have to get back…” She points over her shoulder. “Unless you know what you want?”
“A Caesar salad with grilled chicken. Dressing on the side.”
Her nose wrinkles. “That’s it? I thought guys like you would eat way more than a salad.”
“Believe me, I’d love to, but practice kicked my ass, and I’ll get sick if I eat too much.”
She bites her lip, blue eyes darting away from me. “Right. I’ll put that in.” She turns on her heel and walks over to the open kitchen area, hollering my order into the back.
While Vanessa tends to her tables I focus on my schoolwork. Contrary to popular belief I actually like school. I’ve always enjoyed learning new things and expanding my knowledge. I think one of the things that sucks the most when it comes to my father is knowing I’ve put in the work to take over everything our family name stands for, and I’d be good at it, but I don’t want it at the expense it would cost me.
I won’t sell my soul, and that’s what he expects me to do.
Getting my hands on my inheritance will secure me a stable future even if I decided to never work, which isn’t what I want. I might be planning to walk away from my family’s fortune and dynasty, but I fully intend on building my own.
It’s not long before Vanessa is bringing my salad, and she’s about to dart away before I can ask another question, but I gently grab her wrist between my fingers, tugging her to stay.
She purses her lips, eyeing me like an unruly child. It’s not the first time I’ve gotten that look in my twenty-one years, but it is the first time it’s turned me on.
“If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”
It wasn’t the question I planned, but maybe it’s because she looks so desperate to flee, ready to be anywhere but here, that makes me ask.
She shrugs her wrist out of my hold, and for a second, I think she’s going to actually run away from me, but then she says, “Paris.”
“Why?” It’s another question, but she doesn’t call me on it.
“It looks so beautiful and rich with history. The lights. The flowers. The architecture. Just … everything.” A wistful smile touches her lips. “There’s a street artist there too, anonymous, of course, and I like that he—or she—leaves behind something beautiful that makes a statement but washes away in the rain.”
“What? Like chalk art?”
“I’m not sure how they do it.” She gives a shrug, seeming to forget that a moment ago she was trying to run from me. “But I love it. Each piece is unique and well thought out, but it’s not permanent, and that feels like such a reflection of life itself.” She seems to come back into herself and says, “Where would you go?”
“I’ve been to a lot of places most only dream of seeing, but I’ve never been to Egypt so that’s where I would go. I want to see the Pyramids.”
“Why?” Now she’s the one asking another question and it makes me smile.
“The history is remarkable and there’s so much we still don’t know. To say I’ve been there feels like I’ve been this close,” I hold up my thumb and forefinger a teeny bit apart, “to something bigger than anyone alive today can even begin to comprehend.”
Her dark blue eyes narrow on me in a speculative way. “You’re different than I thought.”
I grin back at her. “Stick around long enough, Van, and you’ll learn that I’m full of surprises.”
* * *
Less than an hour later,Vanessa slides into the booth across from me, letting out a sigh of relief the moment her ass touches the cracking vinyl seat. She lets her hair down, fluffing the dark strands. A burger and fries sit on a plate in front of her, but she eyes it like she’d rather be eating cardboard. It looks good, better than my salad at least, but I’m sure if I worked here and served burgers all evening, I wouldn’t want it either.
She picks up a fry, stares at it for a solid three seconds, and then chews the end of it.
“So,” she finishes the whole fry, “what other questions do you have for me? Credit score? Pretty sure that’s like zilch. Favorite animal? Dogs—particularly pugs. If I don’t own a pug named Penny one day, I’m suing. Favorite book? Little Women. Um…” She taps her bottom lip. “Favorite movie? Titanic. RIP Leo DiCaprio.” She does the sign of the cross, oblivious to my grinning face across from her. “Did I miss anything?”
“I think I’ve got a few more here.” I point to my trusty list.
She sighs. “Should’ve known. You keep adding to it don’t you?” She takes a bite of her burger, groaning in anger when the tomato flies out the bottom and splatters on the plate.
“Perhaps. Do you have any questions for me?”
She tilts her head to the side. “Why baseball?”
“What do you mean?”
She swirls a fry in ketchup. “It seems like most guys like you would go for football. It is the most popular sport in the United States.”
“Guys like me?”
“You know, hot. Popular.”
A grin overcomes me. “You think I’m hot?”
She huffs, rolling her eyes. “You know you’re hot.”
“Oh, I know it, but me knowing it and you saying you think I am are two completely different things.”
She rolls her eyes again. “You’re the kind of guy who kisses his reflection, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. Gotta show myself I care, you know? But don’t worry, you give me the chance and I’ll show you how well I can worship you instead.” She chokes on a sip of water, spraying it across the table so I get pelted in the face. I dry myself with a napkin. “I can make you do that other places too.”
“Oh my God!” she shrieks, throwing the lemon from her glass at my head.
It lands in my hair. Pointing to it, I say, “Look, I have a tiara.”
“Nothing fazes you, I swear,” she grumbles, glaring at her burger.
“Not really, but to answer your question, I chose baseball because of my grandpa. He played in his youth and when I was little it was something we bonded over. I happened to be really good at it, and now here we are.”
“What was his name?”
“Next question.”
“What?” She pales. “Why is that off limits?”
“Because it’s my father’s name and my name too.”
“So, Theodore then?”
I grin, chuckling. “Teddy’s not short for Theodore in my case.”
Her nose scrunches as she thinks. “Then what is it short for?”
I pick up my water glass. “I’m not telling, sweetheart. I’ll never live it down.”
“Is it really that bad?”
I think for a second. “Yeah.”
“Hmm … if it’s not Theodore, Edward then?”
“Nah, babe. I don’t sparkle in the sunlight. I’m a real man.”
“Thomas, maybe?”
“Big fat no.”
“Fine,” she blows out a breath, “I give up for now, but I’m going to figure this out.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Your cockiness will be your downfall, McCallister.”
“Ooh,” I lean closer to her across the table so there’s little space separating us, “keep talking dirty to me.”
She shakes her head. “You’re … I don’t know what you are exactly, but it’s something.”
I chuckle, leaning back into the booth. “Got any other questions for me?”
She bites her lip, thinking. Her lips are a soft pink color without the use of any sort of lip product. I find myself thinking about her lips. How they felt against mine, what it was like, and especially what she’d look like with them wrapped around my cock.
“Are you even listening to me?”
I jerk back into myself. “Uh … w-what did you say?”
She heaves a sigh, her breasts straining against that tight yellow uniform. “Men,” she mutters. “I asked you what your biggest fear is?”
“Failure,” I blurt without a thought. “Honestly, that’s what I’ve been most of my life, but I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I want to do more. Be more. Make a difference.”
“Hmm,” she hums quietly, taking another bite of her burger.
“What?”
“That’s just not the answer I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“I don’t know, striking out with a girl?” She smiles, joking.
Shaking my head, I push the shaggy strands of hair out of my eyes. “Babe, I never strike out. When I have my sights set on something I never, ever lose.”
“That so?”
“Yes,” I say with absolute certainty.
But as she gathers up her plate and walks off so she can get back to work, I think I might’ve met the one girl who has the capability of ending me.