Page 48 of Honey Undone
“Feel better?” Cosy asked out of breath and I nodded.
“I’m good at rugby, that's not the problem,” I grumbled.
“Balance, Minty. You just gotta find balance.” She smiled, “now everyone off your asses, get back to practice,” she snapped and everyone groaned as they moved into position.
An hour later Sunday laid in my lap as we watched the Hogs practice, “Boone’s hungover,” she said. “I can always tell.” He was moving like his feet were casted in cement and the slower he moved the more pissed off Judd Loveday became.
“Helps that he’s always hungover…” Rhea laughed quietly, well she texted on her phone.
“Bets on Lovey throwing the first punch?” Kaia asked, squinting into the sun as it peaked out from the heavy clouds that hung over our heads.
“He won’t, Loveday is a pussy,” Cosy grumbled, her attention on the drills they were running at the other end of the field.
“You hate that guy for absolutely no reason,” Kaia snipped, “his accent alone is enough to make me wet,” she said loud enough that a few players looked up at her from the field and Cosy almost pushed her from the bleachers for disturbing the peace.
“He’s also a cop, an egotistical piece of shit, and he thinks he’s god's gift to rugby,” she added with disdain. At six-two and one of the most fit members of the Harbor Hogs, the last part of her statement wasn’t a lie but he sort of had a right to act that way. “I have to get to the shelter, enjoy watching the sausage fest.”
“She’s not wrong though, if anyone is going to throw a punch it’ll be Bright for even looking at Boone funny,” I said as Brighton Black marched across the field in the smallest shorts he could possibly wear. "He's like a feral cat caught in a bag."
"His temper should be studied for science. Here we go,” Sunday groaned, “they say women are too emotional but not a single one of us have ever fought each other on the field. Boone and Loveday go at it once a practice.”
“It’s crazy to think they even get along off the field.” Rhea said. “I don’t think I could be friends like that, it would give me heartburn.”
“The constant mud wrestling is the only thing that makes these practices worth watching,” I said.
“That and Bright’s thighs,” Kaia moaned, chewing on her lip and earning a gagging sound from Sunday in my lap. “Shut up, you offer up Boone like a mail order slut on a regular basis.”
“Heisa mail order slut,” Sunday giggled and turned her head back to the field.
Boone and Judd were nose to nose, pretty similar in size and ready to get violent. They were in a screaming match at center when the rain started to fall and everyone spectating started to clear out.
“Take it off!” Kaia yelled as the rain came down hard and began flooding the field. “‘I’ll pay good money to see you get dirty!” She hollered.
“We could film it and upload it to the Dirt Ruckers site, and make a pretty buck.” Rhea said, nudging Kaia with a smile. There was a popular site that was basically rugby porn in its lowest form. Hard hits, nasty breaks, big fights. On hard days we’d pile into the same bed and send horrible videos back and forth as we laughed so hard we inevitably ended up in tears.
“Boones on there enough,” Sunday said, sitting up and grabbing her bag, “it's over-saturated with his ugly face,” she grumbled. “I’m going over to the bar, someone needs to open up, you coming?” She asked Kaia who shrugged and collected her shit.
“At least the rain held out until we were done, I’ll catch you later Minty,” Rhea kissed my cheek and left me sitting in the rain. Sometimes it was just nice to have the cold water to clean away all the thoughts that were plaguing me.
Coach Welton was standing in the doorway of the massive athletics building that sat off the rugby pitches and I carried myself over to her. She was watching the men practice, her focus the same as Cosy’s as I approached.
“Have you heard anything from California?” I asked her, shaking out my hair as I walked through the door into the building. It was a moment longer before she turned to address my question.
“There's a scout coming in a few weeks,” she said, crossing her arms. As if she could feel my apprehension she spoke again, “All you need to do is play your best.”
“In front of the man that has my future in his hands,” I added.
“Play like he’s not here, show him the player that they make highlight reels of and he’ll have no choice but to sign you,” Coach encouraged. “This is a big deal but you can’t let it muck up your brain, that’s what makes you a good player.”
“Easier said than done.” I smiled and adjusted my bag on my shoulder.
“Go home, relax. The next little while you’re going to have to train harder, we need to be ready,” Coach said, patting me on the shoulder before she disappeared down the hallway.
I shook out the feelings of dread, picking up food on the way back to my apartment knowing that once I crawled into bed I wouldn’t be getting out of it. My body was sore from the abuse it suffered at practice. I could feel a fewover tightened muscles and could pinpoint the location that the bruises would appear in the morning.
“Ms. Sarah?” My name was called when I walked through the front doors. The building I lived in had a sweet younger girl that worked less as a doorman and more of a guard dog but occasionally she would collect oversized packages or food deliveries to keep the lobby clean.
“Hey Tina,” I said, wandering over to her.
