The Red Zone: An Enemies with Benefits Sports Romance (The League Book 2)

I TRIED CATCHING Mae’s eyes from across the table, but she refused to look up from twirling her fork around her plate. No matter how hard she tried to shield her face behind her hair, camouflaging her misty eyes, there was no hiding the embarrassment rolling off of her.

As much as I enjoyed toying with the girl, I never wanted to be the reason behind her tears. Sure, we got snappy at each other sometimes, but it didn’t give me the right to go around purposely hurting her feelings.

If the roles were reversed and some dude acted like that toward my sister, I’d fucking kill them. No question.

That being said, I was fully capable of apologizing when needed.

While Abel and Scarlett mumbled quietly to each other next to us, I cleared my throat loud enough for only Mae to notice. She didn’t look up as I muttered across the table in a hushed tone, “I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

Her glossy eyes jumped to meet mine, pinning me with a pointed stare. “I don’t want your pity.”

“This isn’t that, and you know it.”

She didn’t relent her piercing gaze, but instead of letting her unsettle me, I leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table, matching her fixed look. I wasn’t a big enough asshole to make her cry, but I sure as shit wouldn’t let her poor attitude ruin everyone else’s night.

Mine included.

Mae and Scarlett had some sort of weird sisterly telepathy thing going on since we were kids, and I was doubtful I could break through. It wasn’t something I had with my sister, but maybe it was one of those girl things. You know, kind of like how they always travel in groups to the bathroom together.

Might as well try my hand at mental magic, anyway.

You’re acting like a brat.

Mae squinted at me from across the table, tightening the grip around her fork. My body temperature rose as I shot the same message to her once again. A few seconds passed, and I gave it one last shot, attempting to send my words down the telepathic line. Sure enough, Mae’s eyes widened, and a scoff escaped her lips as the silverware in her hands clattered against the table. “You did not just call me a brat!”

In my peripherals, I could see Scarlett and Abel’s heads whip toward us, but I didn’t dare avert my eyes in their direction. Blood pounded in my ears, but I remained focused, keeping my concentration locked on the girl in front of me, who looked like she was going to explode out of her seat.

See, the thing was, I wasn’t going to waver from Mae’s little stare down. At this point, an unexpected tsunami washing over us was about the only incident that would cause me to falter. Even then, I’d probably try to fight through it as long as possible.

I might’ve been new to this telepathic communication ordeal, but I would’ve bet twenty bucks I heard Mae shoot a message through the line calling me a conniving piece of shit.

I lifted a brow in question.

“Yes, you heard that right.” Her tone was scathing.

“You little—”

“Jesus Christ,” Scarlett cut me off before I had the chance to elaborate further. “This dinner is officially over.”

Huffing, Mae pushed back her chair, springing out of her seat as she picked up her plate. She brushed past Scar, storming into the house while the door slammed closed behind her. Now, Abel and I weren’t typically ones to share solidarity off the field, but the wide-eyed look we exchanged was the closest we’d gotten to friendship.

Shaking my head side to side, I pushed off the table and leaned across to grab the cup and utensils Mae had left behind, and stacked them on my plate. I trailed behind Scarlett and Abel as we silently ambled into the house. Upon entering the kitchen, the three of us stood there sharing a concerned look as we observed Mae pounding down the remaining white wine straight from the bottle.

Classic Mae-like dramatics.

Ignoring her, I headed over to the expansive kitchen sink and rinsed off our dishes before placing them in the washer.

Scarlett, who was putting away leftovers in the fridge, called over her shoulder to me. “October, can you grab the kiwi buns from the pantry? I’m going to make something really quick for you guys to take home.”

Hard to say no to a second dessert.

Obliging to her request, I gave her a nod before waltzing into the small pantry and perusing through all the labels.

That’s not it… nope, not it either.

I scanned through the entire pantry three times before slumping my shoulders and calling out to Scar, “I don’t see anything labeled as ‘kiwi buns’.”

“Look in the back near the cereal boxes.”

I scanned the area, only to come up short once again. “I still can’t find them.”

“Men are useless… all of them,” Mae muttered, barging into the tiny space to take over browsing the shelves. Before I could move out of the way, she planted herself in front of me, dropping to her knees to pick up a few of the boxes on the bottom shelf.

“Is that—nope—those are Hawaiian rolls,” she mumbled to herself in a hushed tone.

As she continued to sift through the shelves, my ears perked up at the sound of the pantry door closing to my right… and it was immediately followed by the lock latching from the outside.

Damn it, Scarlett.

Had Lea been with us tonight, I wouldn’t have been slightly surprised by her pulling something like this. The girl was single-handedly responsible for getting Scarlett and Abel together in the first place, so I wouldn’t put it past her to try to work her magic to convince Mae and I to reconcile our issues.

But Scar? Not a chance.

If I was a betting man, she was the last person I would’ve put my money on to play matchmaker. How was she going to match people together when she had no idea Abel was plain as day in love with her before they started dating?

Mae twisted around, looking up at me with widened eyes as her mouth formed into the perfect O shape. Closing my eyelids, I ran both hands through my hair with a groan.

I did not have the energy to deal with this right now, but I guess I didn’t really have a choice, did I?

Dropping my hands to my sides, I opened my eyes to see Mae still on her knees with her mouth open, gaze fixed on the door in shock. Ever so slowly, she raked her line of sight across the small space until our eyes met.

Well, seeing Mae on her knees with wide eyes and an open mouth wasn’t exactly something I planned on seeing in this lifetime. Even more shocking was the fact that I wasn’t mad about it. Not one fucking bit.

Alright, alright.

Nope.

My gaze flickered to the ceiling. I would not allow my dirty mind to get the best of me right now.

When I peered back down at her seconds later, she was still making the same face.

Alright, I lied.

Now I was definitely thinking about her plump pink lips wrapped around my cock. Another minute of her looking at me like that and I was going to start thinking she was on the same wavelength.

“Can you back up so I can get your boner out of my face?” she snarled.

“I do not have a…” I mumbled, looking down at my zipper.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Reaching over her shoulder, I quickly grabbed a box of minute rice to cover myself despite the fact that she’d already gotten a front-row seat to my body’s betrayal.

Last time I got an unexpected hard on was four years ago during a press conference, when a bombshell sports reporter questioned me about a series of false tabloids which alleged to me throwing weekly orgies with the team’s cheerleaders. Needless to say, when I went to stand up after the interview was over, the photographers and reporters got a killer picture for their headline.

Could you blame a guy, though? Sitting around talking about orgies for ten minutes was hard enough—no pun intended—but tack on the gorgeous reporter interrogating me… asking me for intimate details about my sex life? I was fucked from the start.

The rumors grew tenfold overnight and it took months and thousands of dollars to scrub the internet of those images and videos. Seeing as they hadn’t resurfaced in about eighteen months, I think it was safe to conclude it was water under the bridge at this point.

“Are you really going to finish that sentence?”

“I’d rather not,” I muttered lowly.

With a small laugh, Mae pushed up off her thighs and shot over to bang her fists against the door. “Scarlett, open the door right now!”

A few seconds of dead silence passed from the opposite side of the door before Mae began pounding again.

“Abel, did you hear something?” Scar’s muffled voice sounded through the cracks. The hint of amusement coating her voice was difficult to miss.

That sneaky little minx. Who would’ve thought little Scar girl had it in her?

Whirling around, Mae pressed her back against the door with closed eyes, sucking in a measured breath then holding it for a handful of beats before exhaling. When she opened her eyes, the glare she gave me was deadly.

What was that for? It’s not like I wanted to be locked in here anymore than she did.

“I take it they want us to talk…” I offered.

“It’s a wonder you weren’t valedictorian with deductive reasoning skills that good,” Mae said with a pinched expression.

I took a few steadying breaths of my own to gather my composure.

If we were going to make it out of here without ripping each other’s heads off, one of us was going to have to be the voice of reason. And seeing as she couldn’t look past her blind rage for something out of both of our control, that position was going to have to be bestowed upon me, whether I wanted it or not.

The thing about Mae, was that she never knew when to back down from a fight. Getting her to let down her defenses long enough to have a cordial conversation was the equivalent to getting a toddler to sit still at preschool all day.

Not an easy feat.

“This is all your fault,” she huffed, stepping closer to me with her arms crossed tightly against her chest.

“My fault?”

“What, you think I wanted this?” Mae flailed her arms out in front of her before crossing them back again. “I’d rather be summoned to the underworld than be locked in this closet with you.”

Nice to know we could agree on one thing.

“You know what I’m sick and tired of?”

“Dwelling on your miserable existence?”

“No. I’m sick and tired of the fact that every time we’re around each other, you act like a fucking fourth grader. You realize you’ll be twenty-five in less than a month, right?” If it were humanly possible for smoke to come out of my ears, this would’ve been the moment. “And believe it or not, most twenty-five-year-olds can fake it long enough have a pleasant conversation with someone they don’t like. At the very least, most can take a joke. So, if you could act like an adult for five fucking seconds, I’d like to have one productive conversation. That’s it…”

“Fine.”

“So, you don’t like me…”

“Congrats on stating the obvious, fuckface,” she deadpanned with fury filling eyes.

I roamed my gaze over her face. She could try to cover it up all she wanted, but there was a trace of lust flaring in her eyes that didn’t go unnoticed.

“So, you’re saying you want to fuck my face?” I chided, taking one step closer to her, so her back was pressed against the door again.

I was trying to be serious, but she set me up for a response that was too good to keep inside.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Established. Now, let’s get back to the point, so we can get out of here.”

“You want to move into the pool house.” That was a statement, not a question. A bit obvious, if you ask me, but nonetheless, it was nice to know she was paying attention.

“Precisely.”

“And I don’t want that.”

“What do you suggest I do, then?”

“You could stop breathing,” she replied flatly. “Then your new home would be a coffin, and I wouldn’t be subject to suffering through another ‘cordial’ conversation with you. It’s a win, win,” she muttered the last sentence with her fakest smile to date.

“What is wrong with you?”

“Many things.”

“I’m aware,” I countered, moving the box of rice from my crotch and placing it back on the shelf to my left. “Look, I know that what I’m asking isn’t an ideal scenario for you, but I swear it will only be for a few weeks until I find out whether or not I’m getting traded.”

“Is there anyone I can call to make that decision come sooner?”

“Sure, call up Madden Matthews and see if he’ll strike a deal with you.”

Madden was the youngest person to own two professional sports teams—the Matrix and the Boston Benders hockey team. Sure, Mae might’ve been a well-known public figure, but despite what she believed, she wasn’t “call up one of the richest men alive” kind of famous.

Man, wouldn’t I get a kick out of watching her attempt to badger his secretary for a meeting, though. That’d be better than a damn comedy special.

“Do it for Scarlett,” I suggested. I knew she’d never do anything to upset her sister, and I wasn’t above using it to get my way with this. “Do you know how happy it would make her, seeing us pretend to be friends with each other?”

She sighed; annoyance written all over her face. “You can’t keep pulling the ‘do it for Scarlett’ card every time you want me to do something.”

“It’s quite effective, isn’t it?” I inched closer to her as she scrunched her lips together in thought.

I maximized her moment of contemplation by taking a minute to observe her features. Button nose. High cheekbones. There was a reason she’d previously been one of the highest paid models in the world. Even when she was pissed off, she looked gorgeous.

Smart of her for choosing a career path that involved little to no talking too. Lawyers everywhere should be grateful she wasn’t their counterpart in the courtroom. Or man, how about picturing her as a doctor… could you imagine Mae performing bedside manner?

A small laugh slipped past my lips at the mental image, to which Mae shot me a deadly glare.

“Fine,” she sighed after another minute of grueling silence. “Just know that Scarlett is the only reason I’m doing this. I don’t know why she insists on keeping you around as a friend, especially when she has Lea and I, but she does. Plus, she’d get pissed at me if I let you rot cold on the streets like I want to.”

Can’t say her vivid imagination of my suffering came as much of a surprise.

“Let’s get a few things straight… I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to hear you. In fact, I don’t even want to know you exist. And for the love of fuck, if I so much as see one of your obnoxious whores on my property, I will have both of you arrested for trespassing.”

“Lucky for you, I don’t sleep around during the season.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“If that’s your way of telling me I’m hot enough to fuck, I’ll take it.”

“Ha. Ha,” Mae grumbled with a twisted face. “I’m being serious. I’m a light sleeper. If you play your music too loud… I’ll know. If you test your luck at sneaking someone into the pool house at two in the morning… I’ll know. If you attempt to park even the slightest inch over from your designated spot in the driveway… I’ll know,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I am all-knowing and all-seeing.”

“Say it ain’t so,” I gasped in mock surprise.

“While you’re at it, you should really get a new cologne. The one you’re wearing smells like month old unwashed underwear.” She pulled a face like she’d just stuck her nose in a freshly used dog crap bag. “I don’t want your nasty odor infiltrating my pool house.”

“I find it interesting that you’re so familiar with what month-old unwashed underwear smells like,” I countered. “Please… tell me more. Don’t leave out any details.”

Was I being a wee bit childish? Admittedly so.

What’s that phrase people said, again? All is fair in love and war.

“You should really keep an eye open while you’re sleeping now that I know where you live and all.”

“I’m shaking in my boots.” The corners of my lips curled upward into a taunting grin. “Truly.”

Turning around, she pounded her fists against the wood door much like she had a few minutes earlier. “Scarlett Joanna Sawyer! You won. I’m letting him live with me. Now, let us out!” She smacked a defeated hand against the door. A moment later the door opened, and a smug Scarlett stared back at the two of us. “There’s no such thing as ‘kiwi buns‘, is there?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” A coy smirk was plastered across Scar’s expression. Meanwhile, Abel lifted an apathetic shoulder before snaking a hand around her waist and pulling her close. Based on the soft pink plush that rose to her cheekbones as he whispered in her ear, I had a feeling it was something suggestive.

The two of them were so disgustingly in love. And I wasn’t sure whether the pulling sensation I felt in my gut was envy or just a general hatred for public displays of affection.

Mae and I shared an uncomfortable glance, silently agreeing that their shameless affection was our cue to dish out our goodbyes and a faux-friendly “thanks for inviting us” partings before seeing ourselves out the front door.

“Do you need me to walk you across the street?” I offered as we neared the end of the driveway. “I wouldn’t want those—what did you call them?—heathens grabbing hold of you. In case you haven’t heard, this neighborhood isn’t exactly the safe haven you think it is,” I chided, as a security patrol golf cart cruised by us and the two middle-aged night guards gave us a passing wave.

“Fuck off.” She raised both middle fingers for my viewing pleasure as she stormed toward her yard.

“Fun sparring with you as always, March baby,” I taunted, as I watched her stomp up her front porch steps. “I’m already looking forward to our next.”

“I still hate you,” she barked back, slamming her enormous wooden front door behind her so hard her summer wreath nearly fell off the hook.

With a pompous smile pulling at my lips as I grabbed my phone from my pocket to pull up a ride share app.

“Likewise,” I mumbled to no one but myself.