One Southern Night (9 page)

“Are you sure I don’t have anything to be worried about?”

“Not when you’re with me, Lemon.” I slip through an opening in the fence. It’s by the dumpsters so there’s not the most appealing smell in the air, but we will be far away from it soon enough. “Every year there’s a field party thrown by the seniors. This is how we sneak in.”

A few minutes later we’re walking onto the end zone. Laney does a little turn, looking up. “God, you never see this many stars in the city.”

“Beauty of country living.” It’s dark on the field, but the sky is twinkling with a billion platinum dots and a huge full moon that’s casting a silvery light. There’s just enough illumination to see and still enough darkness to hide us.

“And it’s crazy the Wolverines have their own stadium. Most schools just have a field.”

“We’re not most schools. We’ve won state nineteen times.”

“Quite a legacy to leave behind,” she comments. I frown. She has no idea, especially if I’m never going to play football again. I walk Laney across the field over the ten, twenty, and thirty-yard lines until we finally reach the fifty. The dead center of the universe. Well, my universe. I lay out one of the blankets and drop the cooler. It’s colder than one would expect an Alabama night to be, but the smell of the fresh-cut grass is as potent as ever. I inhale deeply—it’s almost as heady as Laney’s exotic scent.

I motion for Laney to sit. Once situated, I open the cooler and pull out two cups and an orange Gatorade water bottle. Laney gives me a skeptical look.

“I promise it’s not what you think.” I pour her a cup, then one for myself.

“Okay, I trust you.”

I pause. “Nice to know we’re making progress.” I clink my red Solo cup against hers. “To trust. And forgiveness.”

“And playing football,” Laney adds.

I die a little death. “You certainly played your heart out today.”

“I didn’t want to make the infamous number seven look bad.”

“You could never make it look bad. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you wear that number.”

“Since the first moment you met me?” She bats her eyelashes.

“Something like that.” I take a sip trying to hide my smile, and Laney does too.

“Mmm, what is this?” she asks curiously, looking into the cup.

“You like it?”

“Yes.” She takes another sip.

“Iced tea vodka and lemonade.”

“Much better than sweet tea,” she comments.

“You don’t like sweet tea?” I ask, a little shocked.

“You didn’t notice I never drank anything at dinner when we were studying?”

“I did. I just never thought … I mean I can’t imagine anyone not liking sweet tea.”

“I felt bad telling your mom I didn’t like it.”

“You really are a Yankee,” I tease.

“Born and bred.” She laughs.

“I forgive you,” I joke.

“We can’t all be perfect like you.” She knocks her knees against mine.

“I’m not perfect anymore. Not that I ever was.” I look up at the starry sky.

“You’re too hard on yourself.” I can feel Laney’s eyes searing through me.

“I don’t know any other way to be.” I shrug. “My whole life I’ve been under a spotlight. People have either wanted something or expected something from me. I’ve always felt pressure to deliver.”

“I see,” she muses, taking another sip of her drink. I didn’t mean to get deep, but it’s easy to talk to Laney. Too easy sometimes.

“So why is your dad in New York?” I clear my throat, my soul feeling a little bare.

“He’s guest starring on America’s Next Top Chef. He’s the celebrity judge.”

“That sounds cool.”

“Yeah, he asked me to go with him, but I couldn’t bail on the football game. Miranda would have skinned me.”

“You passed on a trip to New York to play Powder Puff football?” I raise my eyebrows.

“Why do you sound shocked?”

“Because I am.” I laugh.

“Why?” she demands.

“Because football is just a game to you.”

“True, but it’s like a religion to the people around here. I didn’t want them to burn me in effigy if I ducked out.”

“They probably would have, too.”

“I don’t doubt it,” she laughs. I love that sound. “I also couldn’t pass up an opportunity to see you cheer on the sidelines.”

“Oh, you couldn’t?”

“Nope.”

“What’d you think?”

“You disappointed me all-star. You didn’t give one hundred percent.”

“Nope,” I agree. “It wasn’t really my thing.”

“Annoying Coach McKenzie on the sidelines seemed to be your thing.”

“I was assisting,” I defend myself.

“I think it was more annoying.” She contends.

“I helped win the game, didn’t I?”

Laney rolls her eyes. “I guess.”

“You guess?” I poke her in the ribs and she jumps, letting out a cute little squeak.

“That wasn’t nice!” She pokes me back, harder than I expected.

“Oh, you asked for it.” I toss my cup and pounce on her, tickling her sides. She squeals as some of her drink spills on her shirt and the grass.

“Kam!” she screams, kicking her legs around. “Uncle! Uncle!”

I let up on the tickling, but I don’t get off her.

“You’re so mean,” she huffs, wiping off her T-shirt.
I love Laney wet.

“Sometimes,” I confirm. Then I lean in and kiss her. It’s a test kiss, to see exactly where her head is. My assessment tells me a good place, because she opens her mouth and wraps her arms around my neck. Our tongues dance as I situate myself between her thighs. She sighs, deepening the kiss, causing it to become more urgent, fevered. I press against her, my want evident as she wraps her legs around me and draws me close. “God, I missed touching you.” I slip my hand under her shirt, skimming my fingers up her side, until I reach the soft material of her bra. I cup her breast and squeeze lightly as she moans. Laney goes for the hem of my shirt, tugging it up so my stomach is exposed. She runs her hands up my sides and down my back, grazing her nails over my sensitive skin. Holy hell, her touch feels like trickles of water. Soft and enticing, inviting and alluring. My control completely liquefies.

“Laney,” I rasp as I press my hips against her harder.

“Kam, shhh. You don’t have to say anything. No strings, remember?”

I look down at her, our mouths a fraction of a centimeter apart. “What if I want the strings?”

“Then you can have them.” She lifts her head and brushes her lips across mine. My whole being lights up. There’s nothing at this moment I want more. Laney pulls my shirt over my head then goes for the button of my jeans. I love that she’s not shy, that she knows exactly what she wants. Which, right now, is me. After a few seconds of frenzied hands, we’re both stripped completely naked. I grab the other blanket and cover us as I nestle myself back between her knees. Laney folds her arms around me, bringing us as close as we can possibly be. I touch every part of her I can, skin-to-skin, mouth-to-mouth. I slip my hand between our bodies and skim her clit with one finger. She whimpers. It spurs me on, so I slip the same finger inside her and her body tenses.

“Oh, God …” She digs her nails into my shoulders. I finger her slow and suck on her neck. “Kam, please not like this.”

“Not like what? You have to tell me what you want, Laney.”

“You. Only you.” She attacks my mouth, and I almost combust. I reach for my pants and pull out my wallet, then two blue foil packets. Laney grabs one. She tears it open, removes the condom, then reaches down between us. I watch as she sheaths my erection; the feel of her hands is euphoric.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” I pump my hips against her palm.

“No one is stopping you.” She opens her legs a little wider. I love this girl. I am stupidly, ridiculously in love with Laney Summers. I push inside her gradually, savoring every measured inch. Her body welcoming me like a warm embrace. Laney wraps her legs around my waist, and we start to move, searching for a comfortable rhythm. After a minute or two we find it, and that’s when all sense and reason fades away. There’s only Laney; underneath me, folded around me, seeping inside me.

“Kam, you feel so good.” She flexes her hips, like I can’t thrust deep enough. Her muscles clench and her eyes close, as her breathing becomes choppy. “Please don’t stop.”

“Never.” I push her toward her orgasm, giving her everything she demands from my body until she breaks. Being with Laney is beyond amazing; her smell, her sounds, the way she feels. It’s sensation overload.

“Oh, God!” She comes in a rush, propelling my release. With my own climax threatening, I wring out every drop of ecstasy from her I can.

As she writhes and moans beneath me, I explode, my body seizing in pure rapture. When my orgasm releases me, I drop down into Laney’s waiting arms. She hugs me tight. I hug her back; scenting her skin, skimming my teeth against her flesh, memorizing every luscious inch of her.

“Is that the first time you ever blew the whistle on the fifty-yard line?” she asks while gliding her fingers up and down my back.

I chuckle. “Yes. You?”

Laney laughs. “Definitely.”

“How was it?”

“Unforgettable.”

I peck her on the lips. I am idiotically happy at the moment. And it’s not because I just got laid. I very reluctantly withdraw from Laney --I could stay buried in her all night—and roll onto my back, snuggling her into the crook of my arm. We lay quietly, me rubbing her hip, her rubbing my chest. For the first time in months, everything feels right. It’s like when Laney is next to me my life is aligned. I kiss her head.

“What was that for?”

“Nothin’.” I shrug. “Can’t a guy just kiss his girlfriend?”

She glances up at me. “Is that what I am?”

“Well, Lemon, when I said strings I wasn’t talking about shoelaces.”

“Glad you made that clear.” She tightens her arm around me. I smile.

“Why do you always smell so good?” I breathe her in. That strange, exotic scent is tingling my senses.

“Because I shower.”

I pinch her playfully. “Smart-ass city girl.”

“Hey!” She flinches, giggling. “It’s Plumeria.”

“Plum-whatta?”

Now she is full-blown laughing. “It’s a flower that grows in Hawaii. My mom always brings me back perfume when she goes.”

“Hawaii, huh?” I stare into the black ocean above us glowing with stars. “She ever take you on her business trips?”

“If she can. And if I’m not in school. Why? Want to go to Hawaii?”

“Might not be a bad idea. I’m going to have some free time on my hands.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’m not going to play football anymore.” That’s the first time I’ve admitted that out loud. It feels like someone just stabbed me.

“Why aren’t you going to play football anymore?” Laney asks softly, snuggling closer to me.

I huff. “Because I can’t throw anymore, Lemon. My accuracy is gone. And without that, I’m no good to anyone.”

Laney frowns. “Kam, you really believe your football career is over?”

I want to say no, but it’s time to face facts. “I think it is.”

Laney stares at me for a long minute. “How was it before you had the aneurysm?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, what did you do differently then compared to now?”

“Nothing. I just picked up a football and threw. I never had to think about it.”

“Maybe that’s your problem. You’re so worried, you’re over thinking it.”

I gaze blankly at Laney. Over thinking it? Is that possible? “I never thought of it like that.”

“Well this night is all about new perspective, right?”

“I guess.” I nuzzle her neck and nip at her skin.

My Lemon is smart, sassy, and now psychoanalytic. I hit the jackpot with this one.

I
hold the football in my hands as the dawn peeks out from the behind the horizon.

It’s Monday morning. Laney and I spent the entire weekend together making up for lost time. I don’t think seven days a week, twenty-four seven would be enough time to spend with Laney. The girl has me hooked, and there’s no place I’d rather be. Except maybe on a football field. Preferably with Laney. Naked.

I roll the ball between my palms and inhale the smell of early morning. Everything is peaceful. Everything is quiet. I stare at the tire swing as pink light casts its luminescent glow.

Maybe you’re over thinking it.
Maybe she’s right.

I close my eyes. What do I have to lose? Placing my fingers between the laces, I just let go; tossing the ball at the tire. I send every dream, every hope, and every expectation spiraling through the air. I open my eyes just in time to see the football pass through the hole. Something inside me lifts, then cracks. I pick up another football and throw again, sending it straight through the hole. Tears actually prick my eyes. I throw pass after pass, the way I once had. Almost every attempt hitting the target. I wipe my eyes after the bin is empty. “Yes!” I scream as loud as I can. The heaviness I’ve been carrying around the past few months now seems like nothing more than a weightless cloud. It feels like I just won a war.

I walk back into my house like I’m on air. My mother is standing at the kitchen counter. Her eyes are bright and brimming with tears, she must have been watching. She hugs me. “Kam, I want you to know, whether you play football or not, I love you. I never thought to tell you that because I thought you already knew. But now I’m making it perfectly clear. I proud of you for who you are, not what you can do.”