Playing to Win (The Players)

I wake up to the mattress shifting, my eyes cracking open to find my bedroom is still shrouded in darkness.

And the girl who fell asleep in my arms after I gave her an earthshattering orgasm is no longer in my bed.

There’s rustling in the dark, a muttered curse, and I sit up, trying to see in the dark. “Ruby?”

“Oh.” My eyes adjust and I spot her standing at the foot of my bed. I can just barely make out what I think is a sheepish expression on her face. “Hey.”

“What are you doing?” I clear my throat, scratching the back of my neck. I don’t remember turning off the light before I fell asleep, but maybe I did?

“I’m headed home.” She sits on the edge of the mattress, her back to me and I can tell she’s putting on her shoes.

I don’t remember her taking off her shoes at any point when we were so—heavily focused on each other, but she must’ve. I don’t remember a lot of details from our interaction, thanks to drinking a little too much, but I do remember all the kissing. How much she enjoyed me focusing on her perfect tits. And the way she coated my fingers when I stroked her hot, wet pussy.

I’d wanted to do more after I fingered her. I was willing to give her another orgasm—specifically with my mouth—and was hoping for some reciprocation, but ultimately, she fell asleep. Just…passed out within minutes, her breathing evening out, her body going soft.

Eventually I fell asleep too, too tired and drunk to keep my eyes open, I guess.

“You, uh, really leaving?” I ask when she still hasn’t said anything else.

“Yeah. I have an early class tomorrow. Well—today.” She glances over her shoulder, offering me a quick smile. “I had fun.”

She had fun? That’s how she’s phrasing what we just shared?

I mean an orgasm is fun, don’t get me wrong, but…

“Um, yeah. Same.” My answer is lame and I fall back onto the mattress, closing my eyes.

What the fuck is happening right now?

Ruby stands and I can hear soft footsteps as she rounds the bed to my side, bending over and giving me a quick kiss on my fucking forehead. “I’ll see you later?”

I crack my eyes open and nod, staring up at her, hating how the roles have somehow…reversed? I seriously don’t know how to feel about this. “See ya, Red.”

She smiles. “Bye, Ace.”

The moment I hear the front door click shut, I’m bounding out of bed and running into the living room, peeking through the blinds. I feel like a shithead for not walking her out to her car, but it’s directly in front of my apartment, giving me an excellent view. I watch as she climbs into the fancy BMW, shuts the door and starts the engine, backing out and speeding away.

I drop the blinds and stand there for a moment, my mind reeling. She just…left. What if I hadn’t woken up? Would she have walked out without saying a word? I’m thinking yes.

Damn. Can’t help but feel kind of…

Used.

What the actual fuck?

Next day at practice and I’m still sore over my encounter with Ruby. Not the sexual part of it because that was hot—she’s a dirty girl with some secret kinks I’d love to explore further if she gave me the chance, but I’m starting to think she doesn’t want to explore much else with me.

Which is a fucking strange feeling, I cannot lie.

I’ve hooked up with plenty of girls since I came here, doing a variety of things, including a quick little finger sesh. Most of the time, they’re so damn grateful that I got them off, they’re willing to do whatever I want afterward. Sometimes I take advantage of what they’re offering and sometimes I don’t. Depends on what I’m in the mood for.

Ruby didn’t offer anything. She fell asleep, for the love of God. Like my orgasm-giving skills have the ability to take her out, which I can’t help but feel proud of, but still.

I haven’t seen her all day and like a jackass, I don’t even have her number. Any other girl and I’d think I don’t need it anyway. But with Ruby?

I want it.

I fucking need her phone number.

Memories come back to me, one after the other. Ruby offering to help with my car—though I ended up having Derek help me. Me telling her I didn’t have her number when she said just call me. How she took mine and sent me a quick text.

Shit. I do have her number.

I need to text her. After practice.

We’re an hour in and I’m playing like a giant fuck-up. Constantly throwing the ball away when my receivers are too covered, which is like every time I try to pass. I even throw an actual interception that has me cursing up a storm, walking in circles with my hands on my hips as I mutter under my breath on the sidelines. Mattson eventually puts the second string in to play, supposedly to give me ‘a break,’ as he calls it.

Already cracking under pressure is how I’m describing what’s currently happening to me. I’m a fucking hot mess and pissed about it, too. One game in and this is what happens? What the hell is my problem? I can’t cut it?

“What’s your deal?” Mattson asks me at one point, when it feels like everyone is out on that field but me.

“I don’t fucking know.” I throw my hands up in the air, frustrated.

“Well, knock this shit off. You’re too in your head and it’s messing with your ability. Stop overthinking.” He stalks off, grumbling much like I was only a few minutes ago, and I exhale raggedly, pissed at myself.

Coach makes it sound so easy. Just get out of my head and play right.

I’m discovering it’s not that simple.

I never want to disappoint my coaches, especially Mattson. He took a chance on me from the start. He’s the one who came to my high school and watched me play. Talked to me and my dad after the game, encouraging me to apply to CU. While I didn’t come from a big high school and we didn’t win state championships, my team was still pretty good and I was a superstar in my hometown.

Mattson told me he saw great potential in my game play and felt that he could mold me into an even bigger star.

And here I am, learning under Mattson, letting him mold me and I’m failing.

To clear my head, I jog around the track, thankfully no one is calling out to me as they continue practicing. I run a mile, then another one, until Mattson is telling me to stop so I can conserve my energy.

Feels like I can’t win no matter what I do.

It’s near the end of practice when I spot our social media team of three approaching the field, my gaze snagging on Ruby’s familiar blonde head. She’s hot as usual, wearing a red Golden Eagles T-shirt today, the mascot on the front, and a pair of denim shorts, standing in between Gwen and Eric talking.

I try not to look over at her, but it’s damn hard when I’ve got nothing else to do. I end up blatantly staring at her like some sort of jackass and she finally glances over at me, a faint smile curling her lips.

I smile back, about to lift my hand in a wave, but she’s already looking away, talking to Eric.

My hand drops to my side, useless.

Mattson blows his whistle and calls for a break and my teammates head toward me, many of them offering me mini pep talks. I nod but don’t say anything, keeping my feelings inside so I don’t blow up on someone who doesn’t deserve my wrath. There’s no one to blame for my fuck-ups anyway.

Just myself.

“Hey.” I turn to find Evan standing in front of me, his hair all sweaty from his helmet, clutching a reusable water bottle that’s in the university’s school colors in his hand. “You okay, bro?”

“Rough day,” I admit, not sure how else to explain it. I shrug. “You know how it is.”

“I do.” Evan glances around like he’s making sure no one is paying attention before he continues, “Not trying to make you feel bad or anything, but Mattson is freaking out.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He’s definitely not making me feel much better.

“You seem to be really in your head.” I start to protest, but he keeps talking over me. “It’s something I’ve been guilty of too. I just wanted to make you aware of it.”

“How’d you make it stop?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Well, I’d take a walk or run or whatever, but I see you already tried that.” Evan winces. “Maybe you should try and talk to someone that centers you? Mattson maybe?”

“That guy doesn’t center me. He’s too keyed up.” Like I am.

“Okay…what about Derek? Or any of your other friends on the team? I know we’re not that close, but if you ever need someone to just vent to, I’m here,” Evan offers.

“I appreciate that.” No one makes an offer like he just did. Everyone is too worried about looking like a wuss, I swear.

I remember hearing about Cam last season, how after the season was over, he went to counseling and it helped him a lot. All of that was thanks to Blair. He fell in love with her and wanted to be a better man for her.

And for himself.

Glancing across the field, I watch Ruby laugh at something Eric or Gwen says as she holds her phone out for them to all watch something. The pleasant sound drifts over to me, settling in my chest and easing some of that tension that’s making it so tight, and I realize in that moment who I need to go talk to.

Someone who could possibly center me.

I stride across the field, ignoring the guys who call my name, thankful that Mattson doesn’t blow his whistle or worse, try to get me to talk to him again. His idea of a pep talk isn’t what I want right now.

Pretty sure I need something else.

I don’t stop walking until I’m standing directly in front of the social media team, dying for Ruby to lift her head and acknowledge me before I have to say anything. And like she knows what I’m thinking, she lifts her head, her eyes lighting up and her lips curving into a faint smile when she spots me.

“Hey, Ace.”

There’s no point in mincing words. “Can you talk for a minute?”

Her smile fades, most likely thanks to my serious tone. “Sure.”

I glance at Gwen and Eric. “Alone maybe?”

They share a look, Gwen saying, “Hey, let’s go film some footage,” to Eric as she practically drags him away.

Once they’re gone, I step a little closer to Ruby, breathing in her scent, noting how it immediately seems to settle my rattled thoughts. Or maybe that’s just because I’m standing close to her.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she says, her voice full of concern.

“I’ve had a shit day.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head to the side. “Why is that?”

“I don’t know. I can’t keep it together out on the field. I fumble. I keep throwing the ball away. I threw a fucking interception. More than once.” I shake my head, grimacing. “I’m sucking shit out there and I don’t know why.”

She’s quiet for a moment, absorbing my words, and I send her a worried look, fighting the panic growing inside me. I can’t let one bad day get to me, but I am. I’m panicking and it’s stupid and I don’t know how to stop it.

“Why did you want to talk to me?” she finally asks. “How can I help?”

I stare at her, unsure how to explain it. What can she do to help me calm my wayward thoughts? I run a hand through my hair, cupping the back of my head, and she studies me, her gaze lingering on my biceps for a second too long, her gaze jerking to mine.

“Just…let me look at you for a minute.” I really take her in, liking how the T-shirt fits snug across her chest. “Loving the show of support.”

“Oh.” She glances down at her shirt before returning her gaze to me. “Blair gave me this shirt. It’s kind of small.”

“I think it’s perfect.”

She rolls her eyes. “Because it’s tight across my boobs?”

“That might have something to do with it.” I grin, already feeling better.

Thanks to Ruby.