Page 22 of Totally Opposed

“There are no rules saying we can’t do this.”

“There probably are.”

I shrug. “I’d break the rules to do it again,” I say, my gaze moving to his mouth. He lets out a shuddered breath but then steps to the side, and my hand slips from his back.

“We can’t, though. If the guys found out. We’re on opposing teams. On the field, you’re the competition.”

“I like to think of it like our two teams are the new guys, and the OG’s are the opposing teams, but I get it. It would be…hard.”

There are four teams in the league right now, the two original teams that we all refer to as the OG’s, and then Alan’s team, the Party Animals, and mine, the Funky Monkeys. But if the rumors are true and Bart Erricson is planning on shafting one of us out at the end of this tour, who knows what that could mean for whatever this is between Alan and me.

Alan lets go of my hand and the pool is suddenly five degrees cooler.

“Right. It would be too hard. We should just forget this happened. Umm, I’m going to hit the gym,” he says, climbing from the pool. “See you at training.”

He can’t be serious, can he?

“Yeah, okay, sure. See you at training,” I reply, then sink under the water.

***

I’m late to training, which isn’t like me, but after our little pool incident, I swam laps until I could no longer taste his mouth on mine. We go through the regular training program, stretches, throwing, the works, and then take a quick break before we get into the promo and choreography stuff. It’s almost four when I step back onto the field and find Dennis waiting with Alan, and Alan is wearing a billowy white shirt, half tucked into his pants, open at the collar, and fucking sexy as hell.

“Right, we’ve got work to do,” Dennis says, tossing me a similar shirt in black. “Get this on, and we’ll rehearse a few times, then go for a full promo shot.”

The team are all on the field behind us, and a few are wearing foam fish costumes while others are dressed all in blue, holding lengths of blue fabric between them for what I guess are supposed to be waves.

The scene in the movie where Romeo first sees Juliette is through a fish tank, and Dennis has figured out a way to get the guys to simulate a giant one in the middle of the field. Harrison and Stevie, the tallest of the guys, stand several feet apart, arms up high, and each holding one end of a wide black banner. They create the frame, and Arthur, Dave, Benny, Pat, and John are wearing fish costumes, pretending to swim through the water.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Dennis calls, and he hits play on the song, and I quickly strip off my training shirt and throw on theblack one. I catch Alan watching me, and I toss him a wink. I know he thinks this is a bad idea. But I think it is a fucking brilliant one, and the sooner I convince him of that, the sooner I get to taste him again.

We play-act the roles of Romeo and Juliet, gazing at each other like we’ve just seen the most beautiful person in the world. It isn’t hard to do, Alan is gorgeous. He’s exactly what you would picture when they say tall, dark, and handsome. He clippers his face but doesn’t clean shave and the slight scruff brushing against my skin when he kissed me is all I can think about as he sings to the music across from me. What would the guys say if they knew that I kissed him? Would they even care? He made it pretty clear we should forget that it happened. Only I swear that his gaze keeps moving to my mouth, so I swipe my tongue over my upper lip and when he bites at his lower one and shakes his head a little, I know for sure he’s thinking of that kiss as much as I am. Now I just have to figure out how I get him to do it again.

Once we reach the edge of the people-made fish tank, we grab hold of each other and waltz in a circle while the rest of the players get into position. He’s avoiding meeting my eyes now, and the scent of his cologne is filling my nose and making my head spin in the best kind of way.

“That kiss—”

“We can’t,” he says, turning me around again and I almost miss my cue to move on to the next part of the choreography.

I’m pitching for the Funky Monkeys, and to add some drama to the close of the skit, they’ve put Alan first up to bat, so after he spins me towards the mound, he releases his hand from mine, and while I keep spinning, doing my best to focus on something still so that when I stop I don’t fall over completely, Alan jogs away, grabs the bat, and then I pull a ball from my pocket on the last turn, line up and throw.

Only my aim is a little off and it goes wide. But Alan swings for it anyway, and his bat clips the ball, sending it to the side.

It might not have been the cleanest hit, but Dennis is cheering from the side, so from his point of view, it must have looked great.

I’m glad Dennis got to stay as one of the lead choreographers for the league. The choreography team all work together to get the game day stuff sorted but having a familiar face telling us what to do really does make it easier to listen. Plus, he knows what our strengths are. He spotted the chemistry between Alan and me, and now I get to be up close every game, every practice, working on our star-crossed lovers’ bits. Fuck, I hope I can convince Alan to take a chance on something real.

“I think we should practice the waltz part a bit more. I almost tripped over my own feet a few times,” I say to Alan as we’re walking off the field. Dennis is within earshot in front of us and turns before Alan can answer.

“Yes, oh, I saw that. Good idea. You two head into the conference room and run it a couple more times. Do you need me to come, too? I can—”

“No,” I blurt a little too fast, my cheeks warming. Hopefully, given I’m all sweaty from the rehearsals, neither will notice. “I’ll just need the music. I’ll grab my phone from the locker room and meet you in there,” I say to Alan, and Dennis nods, and I run off.

When I get there, Alan is waiting, leaning against the far wall of the conference room, the white shirt open down to his navel, revealing his glistening chest.

“Cheers for doing this,” I say as I put my phone on a chair and close the conference room door.

“No problem, but I thought you did fine out there.”

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