"I can't do any more," Brandon heaves, so desperate for air that I can practically hear his lungs screaming in pain.
They're as loud and desperate as mine. But the difference is that I told mine to shut up fifteen sprints ago and kept going. He opted for longer breaks. I kept mine short.
It paid off, too. I'm pretty sure I beat my personal best on the forty yard dash today. It's hard to know for sure, I'll have to wait and see if Hart says anything. But my strides felt different, quicker, more efficient. My body feels all tingly at the thought and everything looks brighter. I feel like a fucking champion.
Brandon, on the other hand, is currently sitting in the grass checking his pulse, sweating buckets under a painfully hot summer sun. I'm feeling the heat, too, but I'm used to being outside in all conditions, thanks to working for my dad. Brandon works all day inside. So, it's safe to say that today's conditioning drills are having different effects on each of us.
"Get up," I plead with him, pulling at my shirt as it sticks to my skin. Being used to the heat doesn't make the effects of it any better, and I need a fucking shower. "If Hart sees you like this when he gets over here, he's gonna keep us both out here. And you know he'll make you do twenty more of these. At least."
"Over the forty-two I already did?" Brand falls onto his back with an obnoxious sigh. "My legs are burning, bro. Call your uncle off. He's not our coach anymore."
I know he didn't mean anything by it, but the words hit me right in the chest. Delivering a fresh reminder that I'm leaving in a few days. Heading across the country, and joining a whole new ball game. A new league of competition, leveling up the intensity. And all without the coach I've worked with since I was a toddler to guide me anymore.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't starting to feel a little apprehensive about the changes on the way. I'll be a long way from home. Without my family, my mom's cooking, the endless comforts I've been accustomed to. That homesick feeling that Mia had going on last week is already starting to resonate with me, and I didn't even leave yet.
How does she do this every summer?
A whistle blows in the distance.
"On the line, you two!" Hart calls out as he makes his way toward us.
Brandon's on his feet like lightning, and I about die laughing at the flurried look on his face, the pure and utter speed of his movement. If he'd been that fast doing his forty, he might have given Bo Jackson a run for his money.
We take a stand on the fading lines of the makeshift football field at the community center, our training spot for the day since it was more convenient for Hart to stick around his place of work. With camp going on and all that.
"Please let us be done. Please let us be done," Brandon chants beside me, finally catching his breath. Pussy.
I shoot him a look. "Married life has changed you, man."
"Shut up, I'm not married."
"Might as well be," I shrug. "Whining about a workout, trying to get out of things so you can stay in with Elise, or cutting out early so you can go to brunch with her family." I reach over and pat his stomach, feeling nothing but rock hard abs, but I can't resist making a jab. "Putting on some weight there, too, buddy. Better watch the pastries."
He laughs and shoves my hand away. "Shut the fuck up, I'm buff as hell. The physique is why Elise won't let me out of her sight."
"I'm sure."
The conversation dies as Hart finally approaches, looking us up and down and appearing plenty satisfied as he takes in how rough we must look. I've never been worked that hard in my life.
With his hands on his hips, all typical and coach-like, he throws us a smirk. "Got good news and bad news. Good news is that you're done for the day."
"Thank God," Brandon sighs.
"Bad news?" Hart tilts his head. "That was a fraction of the conditioning you'll see at summer training next week."
"Fuck," we say in unison.
He laughs. "Don't be too worried. You guys did well. You've always done well. It's why you're my favorites, and allowed certain privileges. Like spending the morning with me when I have about a million things to put together for the movie this weekend."
"Thanks for making the time for us," I offer with a smile, sarcastic but completely genuine at the same time.
Hart picks up both sentiments, his eyes meeting mine with a spark of emotion I don't see from him too often. He glances over at Brandon and then back at me, his hand reaching out to pat my shoulder.
"I'm proud of you guys," he tells us. "I wish I could tell you what to expect. Or offer some kind of advice from actually being in the cleats you're about to lace up." When his head drops, my stomach goes with it. I can't imagine having to settle for the shoes he ended up in.
All I've ever wanted to do was play ball. I worked my ass off to get where I am, and the thought of having this chance taken from me sends my giddy heart into a panic. Every time I see Hart adjust his right shoulder, still grimacing in pain to this day, each time I watch him throw me a pass with his left hand. I'm reminded how lucky I am to have this opportunity. To play college ball, to try and go pro, build my life around the game I love.
"You'll be working with the best of the best," Uncle Hart goes on softly, lifting his head and looking right at me. "You'll have lots of people around you to help you out, guide you, and make sure you succeed. But don't forget, I'm only a phone call away. And I'll be watching every single game, cheering you on like I always do."
Well, damn. I think I might cry. The shift I seem to be experiencing in my life at the moment is making me act funny, turning me into someone different. Not bad different, just... different.
Before things get too mushy, Hart clears his throat and lets out a laugh. "By the way," he says to me, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He brings up a photo he took of his stopwatch, the time paused on a number I've never seen before. Because it's two seconds less than the last time I saw it.
"Congrats, Gray," he says to me, his voice full of pride. "You beat your record."
*****
After hitting the showers, Brandon and I are heading through the main building and out the back doors to see what's going on as camp comes to an end for the day. He's gotta work soon, washing dishes at Elise's family's restaurant, and I'm hoping to see where I can pick up the slack since I had most of the day off.
I find out quickly that things are pretty well taken care of. The day's activities seemed to have evolved into a giant water balloon fight, but clean up is nearly finished and there's really nothing for me to do. When I asked Hart if I could help with anything for the big movie in the park thing going on this weekend, he told me it was too early to start setting up outside and to just go home. But since Brandon's waiting on Elise so they can drive to work together, I decide to stick around with him for a few minutes.
We haven't been out here long before something hot comes into view. Like, really hot. Causing my demise in a way the blazing sun could never pull off.
Champagne blonde, tanned skin, and a pretty purple bikini top.
I was not prepared.
It's one thing to see Mia fully dressed. To take in the way a simple t-shirt clings to her body, shorts hitting just right on her thighs. The perfect amount of skin on display to distract you, make you wonder about the parts you can't see.
Catching a glimpse of her in a bikini is a whole other story. Holy shit. It's not even the first time I've seen her in a two-piece. But it is the first time I've seen her since she became like... a fucking woman.
My body freezes, refusing all orders from my brain to act normal. The string holding her tits inside the shiny plum fabric teases my eyes, and all I can think about is giving that string a swift pull. I want to see what's hiding underneath.
I want to push her against the building and stick my tongue down her throat.
"Don't even think about it, Gray," Brandon's voice is a cold glass of water, poured mercilessly over the path my thoughts were taking me.
"Think about what?" I ask, trying to shrug it off. "I wasn't thinking about anything."
Only everything. Including things I don't particularly think I should be thinking about when it comes to Mia Hill.
Along with my desire to stare at her, thinking of all the things I'd like to do to her, wondering how she would look in my bed, I have an unexpected urge to ask her how she's doing. But that almost feels worse than checking her out.
And so, I try to stifle it. I try to focus once again on the curve of her waist, the dip of her collarbone, her very enticing mouth. But there's no point.
It's when she smiles that I realize my fascination with her now officially goes beyond how she looks. The soft tilt of her lips as she waves goodbye to someone gives me relief, takes me straight back to last week when I took her to get hot chocolate.
She'd been off that afternoon. After seeming fine at the scavenger hunt, it was like her whole vibe was different by the time we were heading home for the day. The homesickness. I felt for her. The least I could do was try and take her mind off of it, right?
Thing is, I never expected to end up in a weird and deep, but oddly satisfying, conversation about honesty. I was happy to cheer her up, but I didn't expect to enjoy myself as much as I did.
Beside me, Brandon sighs. "I mean it, man. Don't even think about hooking up with Mia."
"I'm not thinking about hooking up with her."
Lie. I'm definitely thinking about doing exactly that. Too bad she's got a stupid boyfriend, and my days here are dwindling to a close.
"Yes, you are," he laughs. "It's written all over your face. You're practically salivating. Being the typical Grayson Adler I've always known. Only this time, you've fixated on someone you have no business messing around with."
"I'm not messing around with her," I inform him, keeping my tone even as my eyes stay peeled on Mia. "Mind your own business and go back to your ball and chain."
I don't why I just called Elise that. She's one of my best friends. Sometimes, I prefer her company to Brandon's because he can be a major drag when it comes to my philandering ways. Like he's being right now. My only defense is to make fun of his long term committed relationship.
"Yeah, yeah," he brushes me off with a laugh. "You can get on my case all you want. Make jokes about how I wifed up Elise way too fast, when I was way too young. And that's fine. I've accepted who I am. But I know who you are, too. This might come as a shock, but you're kind of slutty, Gray."
My hand goes straight to my heart, I can't believe he went there. "I am not slutty."
Brandon tilts his head, shooting me an amused look. "You hooked up with half the girls at school."
"Only the blonde half."
"Is that what this fixation with Mia is? Is it because she's blonde?"
I shrug. "Doesn't hurt."
"Okay, well," he sighs. "In case you haven't noticed, Mia's not some cheerleader who will fall for your antics when you bat those long eyelashes and deliver that signature smirk of yours."
"No one is immune to the smirk, Brand. Not even Mia."
"Sure. But she's still not the girl you fool around with." He scrunches his brow, expression going all contemplative. "By the way, where's Hannah in all of this? Isn't she your non-girlfriend girlfriend that you were hooking up with this summer?"
I shake my head, letting my eyes travel back to Mia, watching as she bends over to lift a bag of equipment, mesmerized by the way her muscles flex with the weight. My answer comes rolling out all mumbly, distracted, "I haven't been with Hannah in weeks."
Which is responsible for at least a small fraction of my obsession with Mia Hill right now. I'm self-aware enough to know that much. I really need to get laid. I just wish I didn't feel like fucking her, of all people. Because a small part of me knows that Brandon is right.
"I'm sure that's not for Hannah's lack of trying," he says, laughing. But then he stops, turns to me and smacks my shoulder with the back of his hand. "Hang on just a fucking minute. Is that what this thing with Mia is about? Are you trying to get with her because she's the first person to challenge you? Not fall in your lap like everyone else does?"
That would be another small fraction of it, yes. But I can't tell him that. I can't even truly admit that I've thought about getting with her, because she's not even available. It feels wrong on many levels to be thinking about her naked right now.
My arms cross over my chest. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Grayson."
"Leave it, Brandon," I mutter. Mostly because I want him to shut up. Mia's walking right toward us. "I'm not going after her."
"If you say so," he laughs, throwing his arms up in surrender.
At that moment, Mia passes by us, her glance shifting to Brandon first. She waves and says hi to him, her voice all pleasant and friendly.
He gives her a smile. "What's up, Mia?"
"Not much," she smiles right back. And then her head turns to me and she nods. "Grayson."
Eyes up, I tell myself over and over again. Don't look at her tits. Or her legs. Or her flat, tan stomach.
I clear my throat. "Mia." Her name comes out all choked. What the fuck is wrong with me? Pull it together, Gray. Next thing I know, I'm staring down at the bag she's carrying, and my mouth betrays me again. "Where are you taking that?" I ask her, as though she's not heading toward the shed. With a bag of equipment that belongs in the shed.
Pointing behind me, her answer comes out all slow. "To the shed."
"Oh." I'm a fucking idiot. "Yeah. Okay, good."
Mia hoists the bag up onto her shoulder and proceeds to walk past us. My stupid eyes travel her up and down, marvelling once more at the definition I find complementing all that glistening skin. The bag looks heavy. I actually know it to be heavy, too, but she doesn't even look like she's struggling. Why do I find that hot? Is it the fact that she's wearing a bikini? Or is this just who I am now?
Brandon's arm shoots out and shoves me. "Are you kidding, Gray?" he mutters under his breath. "Take the fucking bag from her."
Oh, shit. What am I doing? "Let me take that back for you," I blurt out, reaching for the bag. For a minute there, I think Miss Independent might resist. But surprisingly, she hands it over.
"Thanks, that's a huge help," she sighs.
"I thought you'd fight me on that," I tell her, somehow finding my normal voice again. Something about the way she just thanked me has me feeling like my calm and confident self once more. "You must be tired."
She nods her head, "I am. Very tired."
"At least it's not from the weight of carrying my responsibility this time, right? I've been a perfect partner as of late."
"You have. I'll give you that," she says, her honey eyes holding mine for a heartbeat. A moment seems to pass between as she pauses with the strangest look on her face. I have no idea what it means. I've never seen her make a face like this. But all at once, she looks past me at the shed. And then, gesturing down at the bag that's now in my hand, she says, "Well, if you've got that, I guess I'll head back to finish up."
"Yeah," I nod my head. "I've got it."
"See ya around, Grayson."
"See ya."
And just like that, she disappears. A ponytail of champagne hair swings behind her, that bikini top making me weak, the view of her shorts making the situation in my own feel uncomfortably tight.
"You know her boyfriend just cheated on her and they broke up, right? More of a reason for you to leave her alone."
There goes Brandon again. My voice of reason. Just like Mom said. I wish he'd just shut up sometimes.
Wait.
My chest stutters as the words he said catch up to me. "That dickhead cheated on her?"
"Yep," Brandon nods. "I heard her and June talking about it the next day when they came into the diner. I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to hear it though. And I'm definitely not supposed to be repeating it, so you're dead meat if you say anything."
"I won't," I reassure him, knowing he hasn't been comfortable holding onto that info. It's also starting to make sense why he told me to stay away from Mia.
Brandon is the protective big brother everyone wishes they had. My mom always says it's a crime he's an only child.
"When did it happen?" I ask him, taking full advantage of his insight, even though I know it's wrong.
He shrugs. "I guess they ended things over the phone last Friday."
Friday. Friday? We were in the woods on Friday. That was the day everything seemed fine and then took a weird turn. The day I took her for hot chocolate.
Is that the real reason she was upset? Why she was all hung up on honesty?
Fuck.
"Who would break up with her?" I ask, more to myself.
"I don't know."
Without permission, my mind wanders to a place it has no business wandering. Curious about how long they were together, if they were having sex. I shouldn't care, and I certainly shouldn't be thinking about the inner workings of other people's relationships. But did that guy seriously have access to the full view of what's underneath that pretty purple bathing suit and actually cheat on her?
Did he think he could do better?
I know she definitely could. Breaking up with her over the phone when she's all the way in New York for the summer? I don't even have to know the guy to know he's a chicken shit loser. Small dick. Probably without a clue on how to handle someone like Mia. If they were fucking, how good could it possibly have been for her?
It's information I don't need, and hope I never get a hold of. Because now, if I wasn't already distracted enough, all I can think about is showing her how good it could be. With me.
"Oh shit, I shouldn't have told you that," Brandon laughs. "At least when you thought she was still involved, you might've had the decency to leave her alone. But I can see you've got that look in your eyes..."
I glance at him, confused. "What look?"
"The one where you've set your sights on something. Or someone. And you won't stop until you get it."
That's a bit much. "Maybe I just want to get laid before we head to California."
"If that's really the case," Brandon laughs. "Then go give Hannah a good farewell fuck."
I should listen to his advice. On top of not complicating things with Mia, Hannah would be easy. And she'd be thrilled. But...
It's not Hannah I want.