Page 28 of Fake Dates and Home Plates
I hate that she slept with Dakota—not because I’m jealous, because I absolutely do not care where he sticks his dick these days. No, it bothers me because I’ve always treated my teammates like family. If you know a guy who really fucked over your family, why would you jump at the chance to fuck him?
Then again, even with one season under her belt, she’s not as bonded to us upperclassmen like we are to each other, so maybe she doesn’t get it. Maybe to her, Dakota is just a hot guy with dumb hair and fake charm instead of the walking cautionary tale wrapped in red flags I know him to be.
Still, it stings. I might not be heartbroken over the guy, but knowing my teammate would hook up with him feels like a crack in something I thought was solid.
And that’s the part I’m struggling with.
As her captain, though, it’s my job to drop those feelings at the door and lead my team. So when she asks me about my classes, I assume she's reaching for an olive branch, and I answer genuinely. I even follow it up with a question about her courses too.
Lily watches with raised eyebrows, but I ignore her. Later, when we’re packing up our stuff to head home, she asks me about it.
“Maybe moving past it is what she needs from me, and I don’t have any reason not to give it to her. She could date him or fuck him or whatever she wants. There’s no way everyone on the team, let alone the school, doesn’t know what he did.”
I shrug before continuing, “And sometimes, a girl just wants to get laid, whether it’s purely for the orgasm or because someone made her feel sexy. As long as they both consented, I don’t have any objection. I just hope for her sake they used protection.”
My results came back negative from the school clinic, but we were always careful.
“You’re pretty fucking amazing, Henley Harkin,” Lily says as we get into her car.
I roll my eyes like her statement didn’t give me warm fuzzies. “It’s not a big deal. Now, let’s get home so I can go see my parents.”
Dinner at my parents' house is always entertaining.
Since freshman year, they’ve insisted I come home for dinner the week of my first meet. According to them, it’s so they can ‘make sure I’m taken care of,’ which really just means forcing me to eat two full plates of food.
I won't complain, since the food is always delicious.
Although I despise driving myself anywhere, I use the short car ride to zone out and listen to music. Lily and the rest of my teammates are used to my passenger princess ways and don’t seem to mind, but the drive to my parents is usually a solo one, so I have no other choice.
Pulling into the driveway, I take the same spot I have since they bought me this car for my sixteenth birthday.
Our house is small but beautiful. I lived here my entire life until I started as a freshman at Shoreline. The drive might be only an hour, but that’s still not an ideal commute for early classes.
The smell hits me as soon as I step inside. Garlic, basil, and a number of other rich, mouth-watering scents overwhelm my system. Chicken parmesan is one of my dad’s specialties, and he makes the noodles himself from scratch.
Dad’s in his usual spot, apron tied around his waist like he’s auditioning for a Food Network show.
“Perfect timing,” he announces, not even looking up. “Go wash your hands and help me set the table, kiddo. Your mom was on a call but should be down any minute now.”
I do as I’m told. When I return to the kitchen, my parents are acting like teenagers, making out with their hands all over each other. I’d pretend to be grossed out, but they’ve been like this for as long as I remember.
“Get a room,” I tell them as I grab the plates from the cabinet.
“We have one. It’s called the entire house we paid for with our own money, which gives us the right to do whatever we want in it,” my dad says while wiggling his eyebrows.
“And the hot tub. And the garage. And there was that one time—” Mom continues for him.
Now I gag with genuine disgust, interrupting whatever part of my childhood home she was going to ruin for me next. I turn my back, letting them finish whatever moment they are having, and set the dining table as I was asked.
Mom and Dad bring over the dishes full of food and set them in the middle of the table. We dive into the meal without formality, filling our plates with chicken, pasta, and bread.
“So, how has training been going?” Mom asks between bites.
“Good. Coach Stone tries to kill us at least once a week, but that’s typical.” We’re only a month into the season, so it’ll onlybe more challenging from here. We’ll use the meet to gauge how everyone is starting, and the coaching staff will lay out training plans for each of us so we can improve our records throughout the season.
“Are you ready for this weekend?” Dad asks next.
Nodding, I shovel another bite into my mouth before I respond. “Yeah, it’s just an invitational. Not too much pressure, and I’m excited to race again.”
