Offside: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (36 page)

“Is that it?”

“You want me to go on? I’ll go on all week if you want me to.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t doubt that. You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you seriously need to get laid.”

I stay there rooted to the spot, while Landon barges past me, strides heavily away and eventually catches up with Mom and Marvin. From across the field, I watch the wave to me, beckoning me over to join them.

Laid? When was the last time I even thought about getting laid, let alone when it last happened. Is that how The Donkey’s going to solve my problems, with his magic fucking wand?

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L
andon

Oh, man, she is so uptight. Listening to her is like reading one of the hundreds of newspaper columns that just don’t get it. She’s jealous, that’s all it is. It’s that toxic sensation that creeps into people when they see others enjoying themselves, having a good time and doing something that makes them happy. She’s just upset because she’s not doing art, or whatever it is she wants to do that will make her happy, and because of it, she’s going to be alone, every night. I understand why now, especially if she’s that vicious with every man she meets. She’s got to loosen up. Yeah I think highly of myself, but I’m not doing anyone any harm. Besides which, I am as good as I think I am. I’m a damn good athlete, I’m getting to the top of my game, even though I know there is room for improvement, and despite what she says, everyone loves me, even more than I do in some cases.

I think it’s just the denial thing I already told her about. She can’t cope with the fact that she agrees with me. Not only does she agree with me, she actually likes me. It’s just she isn’t meant to be that person, and she doesn’t want to lump herself with the masses. She’s the arrogant one, because she is desperate to prove that she can resist me, when both of us know she can’t. It’s academic anyway, which makes me laugh, because there is no way we can ever be together.

If she keeps fighting it, she’ll eventually wear herself down. She can’t keep hiding from the truth forever. I can’t wait to see her face when that day comes, when she finally admits to me that even though I talk a good game, I give one too. You ask those hundreds of girls how they feel, even though they may have gone on to sell their stories, and I bet they’ll all tell you they’ve never had better. You ask all the top coaches in the league and all the players too who the best player in the AFC or the NFC is today, and has been for the last three years, objectively, they’ll all say me, unequivocally. My talent isn’t in doubt, and I don’t see the reason to be all coy about hiding it. I’m not saying anyone else is bad, I’m just saying they aren’t as good as me.

Tilly falls back for a while chewing over what I said to her, which gives me a chance to talk to Rachel and find out a little bit about her teenage daughter.

If I’m stuck here for a week, I might as well give myself a project. That’ll show Tilly I can demonstrate my interest, even if it’s not entirely noble.

That ex-boyfriend turns out to be the only boyfriend she’s ever had, and the whole relationship lasted a month and a half. Shock horror. That’s almost as short as some of mine. Aside from that, and despite being pretty damn sexy when she puts her mind to it - the image of her in her red panties is now imprinted on my brain and I can’t tell whether it’s just because I’m chomping at the bit to get laid - Tilly has had little other romantic involvement, at least nothing she’s told her mother about.

They don’t have a close relationship, of course, which sort of reflects the kind of relationship I have with my dad.

H’s supportive, and he’s always been there for me, but we never talk about feelings and bullshit like that. I always thought it would be different between two woman, but I guess not, and the kind of shit she’s liberally telling me now, I get the impression is the kind of stuff she wouldn’t sit down and talk to Tilly about.

Maybe that’s why she’s behaving like such a dick around me. If she hasn’t had time to build up strong relationships with men, maybe she just doesn’t know how to behave around them.

Rachel confides that she thinks Tilly was responsible for pushing him away, that she wasn’t flexible enough and eventually he got tired of trying to change her.

“She’s always been set in her ways, you know with the art and stuff, determined, which is great, but stubborn too. I think it’s held her back. It’s the reason she won’t do any old job to pay the bills. She won’t listen either. She has to do it her way.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Yeah, I was right though, Dad”, I point out.

“And so is Tilly, and everyone else who believes strongly enough that they are.”

“I think she’s lonely.”

We’ve stopped now, waiting for Tilly to catch up with us at a place where the trail divides into two parts. From here, trudging along the track, her dress billowing in the wind and her arms folded across her chest - her ample chest I have to admit - she does look lonely.

Finally she catches up to us. Whether sister or stranger, and despite what she said earlier, I’m beginning to warm to her. I can feel it inside me, like that sensation you get after a big meal. It’s good to have her back with us, even if it’s just to throw insults at me.

“Are we nearly done? I’m starving and my feet hurt.”

Fuck, mine too. Mine hurt like hell.

“Shouldn’t be more than ten minutes back to the car.”

“And then an hour and a half from there.”

Tilly falls alongside me for a moment, before the track narrows and she has to go in front. I can’t resist it.

“Have you ever been a cheerleader, Tilly?”

An extended middle finger, pointed aggressively in my direction, couldn’t have been a more perfect answer.

***

A
t home, I spend the afternoon getting the jacuzzi working, while Tilly sunbathes out on the deck. For a girl that can’t stand being around me half the time, she seems to be spending a decent amount of time in my shadow.

I try and strike up a conversation but she’s clearly still pissed off from earlier. She grunts a couple of responses to my suggestion that she really ought to be sunbathing in her bikini if she wants to get a tan, and then loses herself for much of the rest of the afternoon in her book.

Rachel and Dad occupy themselves by planning the outings for the rest of the week, cooking, transferring notes from one ledger to another, and then sleeping. When I go into the house to try and find the mains valve for the water, I catch them crashed out on the sofa, huddled together and snoring away.

With the jacuzzi filling up, I try again with Tilly.

“The time would pass much faster if we got along, you know.”

“The time is passing just fine, thanks.”

“You going to join me?”

“I told you, I don’t have my bikini.”

“I don’t have my bikini either, but it’s not going to stop me. It’s exactly what your body needs after a long walk. A bath and a massage.”

“No, thank you.”

“Not even the massage part?”

Tilly looks over towards me, out over the top of her sunglasses like Rachel has a tendency to do.

“You’re going to give me a massage? You?”

“I might if I knew you’d appreciate it.”

“I think that’s one step too far, don’t you? The great Landon Maddox doing something for someone else for a change. What would the papers say? It might ruin your reputation.”

“Suit yourself.”

She’s back to her book now, but I know she’s thinking about it. My hands all over her skin, caressing the parts of her body the sun isn’t reaching. The parts no-one has touched for a while.

I catch myself wondering if she regularly masturbates. I catch myself thinking that I might have to soon.

“The water is the perfect temperature.”

“So make sure you enjoy it before it goes cold.”

I don’t have my swimming trunks, but fuck it, I’m not going to let that hold me back. My feet are so sore from that walk they need soaking. I’m not going to come to a property that has a jacuzzi and not use it.

“You’re not going to offer to give me one?”

“There is no part of you that needs any more massaging, Landon.”

I beg to differ. There’s one very specific part of me that would respond extremely well to that. I watch Tilly turn the page, but I know already she’s stopped reading the book. She stopped when I took my T-shirt off and pretended not to look.

Maybe it’s best she doesn’t get in with me based on what happened at the end of the garden this morning. I thought it would be easier to hold myself back, but I guess not. I must be even more virile than I thought I was. It doesn’t help that she’s hot either. Annoying maybe, but definitely hot. I mean I know she’s my step sister and everything but a man can be objective.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get in it?”

I’ve got to stop thinking like this. There is no way that this can end well if I carry on along this road. I imagine the headlines as I slowly peel away the rest of my layers, making sure I’m doing so in plain view of Tilly. I’m playing with fire but I can’t help it. It’s only day two as well. What the hell is going to happen on day seven?

Landon Maddox in shock affair with his stepsister. Landon Maddox couldn’t keep it in his pants. The family member that ended Maddox’s career. The Donkey falls in love.

Fuck. Where the hell did that come from?

Tilly slams her book shut, and without even taking a single look at me, stood there in my boxer shorts like a Roman God, slides open the French windows and heads on inside.

A moment later, water spills insultingly out of the top of the jacuzzi, seeping quickly through the decking towards the dry earth below.

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T
illy

I can’t sleep, and this time it’s not because The Donkey keeps me up with his incessant pissing, or ridiculous games, it’s because, for one reason or another, I can’t get the loud-mouthed, can’t-do-anything-wrong, star athlete out of my head. I can’t tell you how annoying that is either. First he invades my world, and then he invades my head. The next thing he’ll be doing is invading my dreams. He might already be there if I could sleep for long enough to find out.

The mattress is incredible uncomfortable, and half way through the night I have to turn it over just to see if it’ll make any difference. It doesn’t. I don’t know how much more I can take of this. We should be taking turns, but I know Landon will just tell me to put the mattress back on the bed it came from and quit whining. There isn’t any real reason for me not to sleep in there either, except I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing any more of my flesh than he deserves too. That’s why I’m sleeping in my track pants, even though it’s damn hot with them on. I’m not going to let him have more ammunition to mock me with.

I finally fall asleep at around five am, just when the morning light is breaking through and the room takes on a kind of milky, ethereal haze, and what seems like less than a moment later, I’m woken up by Mom and Marvin eating breakfast loudly at the table above me. Actually, it’s Mom’s foot in my gut that does it, apparently an accidental swipe as she stretches out her legs.

Wide awake again, and with the house now up, it’s going to be impossible to get back to sleep, so I don’t even bother trying. I can’t have slept more than two hours. My head hurts, my back hurts, my brain hurts and my mouth is dry. This vacation sucks.

“Morning, Tilly.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine.”

“And it’s a beautiful day already”, Marvin adds.

I notice the drapes have already been drawn and the garden and decking is bathed in sunlight.

“You know I was sleeping, right?”

Mom avoids the question. “You want some breakfast?”

I don’t think I can face breakfast right now. I don’t think I can face anything but a darkened room and some relaxing music. Perhaps a massage. My eyes go to Landon’s still closed bedroom door.

“How come you have to wake me up and The Donkey gets to sleep in?”

“Landon? He left about an hour ago.”

“Left? Where?”

“For a run, I think. Said he was going crazy being cooped up.”

Instead of feeling jubilant that my new big brother is finally out of the way, I feel a little disappointed he’s disappeared, without even telling me. I shake the feeling away and blame lack of sleep for my clear emotional confusion.

“Coffee’s still warm if you want some.”

I drag the mattress back to Landon’s bedroom, not because it needs to be there, but because I want to see if Mom is right. She is. Besides a stack of clothes, a general mess and a musky boy smell that makes me want to lie down in his bed, and not because I’m tired either, he’s gone.

I dump the mattress down on his bed, partly because it’s easy for me to retrieve when I need it, mostly because it’s in his way and I know it’ll annoy him, and then I sit down on the bed next to it and take a look at the room that should be mine. We’ve only been here two days and he’s not only made it a mess, he’s completely made it his own.

I have a sudden urge to rifle through his belongings, dig for secrets at the bottom of his bag, or just take advantage somehow of his absence, but I’m not entirely sure where to begin, nor what it is I might be looking for, and the intimacy of the idea finally stops me.

“When is he going to be back?”

I sit down at the table, take two slices of cold toast out of the rack and lather them with honey and peanut butter.

“He didn’t say.”

“I thought we were supposed to be doing things as a family.”

The coffee may have been warm five minutes ago, or an hour ago when Mom first made it, but it definitely isn’t now.

“It’s only a run, honey, he’s not going to be out all day.”

“He did take his car.”

Marvin has a funny way of looking like he’s not listening, lost in some other task or activity, and then saying something, usually in a way that sounds like he’s saying it to himself, that proves he’s been listening all along.

I watch him let that comment fall, as though talking about the weather, which I suppose he could be because whether Landon has taken his car or not is really neither here nor there, turn the paper with a carefully saliva dampened finger tip and push the last of his toast into his mouth.