Play With Me Read online

  play with me

  PIPER SHELLY

  GENRE: YA/CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, businesses, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  PLAY WITH ME

  Copyright © 2012 by Piper Shelly

  Cover Design by Piper Shelly with Jennifer Gibson [email protected]

  All cover art copyright © 2012

  All Rights Reserved

  PRINT ISBN: 978-1-48118-201-0

  First Publication: DECEMBER 2012

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

  IF YOU FIND AN EBOOK OR PRINT VERSION OF THIS BOOK BEING SOLD OR SHARED

  ILLEGALLY, PLEASE REPORT IT TO: [email protected]

  My heartfelt thanks…

  To all the wonderful angels in my life for their encouragement, their help, and their patience. Especially, to my amazing family for never stopping to cheer for me. To my son, Kevin, who tells me he misses me everyday when I disappear into my ‘writing lab’. And to Gran for taking care of everyone while I can’t because my books keep me in a tight grip.

  Love you!

  To you, my darling husband.

  When you looked at me for the first time

  and gave me that tempting half smile,

  my heart skipped a beat, and I thought I was dreaming.

  I’m glad my dream didn’t end.

  To the most supportive friend and critique partner

  I could wish for.

  Georgia Lyn Hunter

  Thanks for watching my back.

  All right, now get that smirk off your face, Hunter.

  We have a job to do—

  Try and take over the world.

  CHAPTER

  1

  HE’D NEVER TRIED to kiss me, even when we practically shared the same bed half of the summer. And then he was gone. For five tormenting weeks. I thought I was going to die after day two.

  But today, my torture was over. Today, Anthony Mitchell returned. My best friend and future husband.

  Not like I had informed him about that yet, but it wasn’t necessary. Everyone knew it, and I couldn’t wait to trade my last name, Matthews, for his. Tony and I had been hanging out since kindergarten. We were inseparable, except for the few hours every day when he had soccer training and I had—well some time to write how much I loved him in my diary for the sixteen millionth time.

  Liza and Tony, that went like Bonnie&Clyde. Like Lois&Clark. We were M&M, really.

  The door bell chimed.

  My heart banged against my throat as I tossed my diary to the side, struggling to disentangle the quilt from around my legs. I finally flopped off the bed together with the comforter.

  “I’m coming!” On the way down the winding stairs, I raked my fingers through my long, brown hair to give it the last bit of oomph before I rushed to open the door. A sunbeam hit me first, then Tony’s long missed prettiness followed. His blond hair, tousled over his forehead, almost touched his pretty blue eyes. He wore the white shirt half open, and I always had to fight really hard not to drool over his naked skin.

  Hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts, he just stood there and looked at me. Then his mouth curled into his typical sly grin. “What is it, Liz? I know you’re dying to hug me.”

  Gee! I flashed my teeth, which now were perfectly straight after two years of wearing braces, in a broad smile and gave him the bear hug he expected. He dragged me outside and twirled me under the warm sun with my face buried in the crook of his neck. Ah, he smelled so good, sun-kissed and all Tony. I never got enough of that special brand.

  “How was camp?” I asked after he set me down.

  He mocked me by wrinkling his nose. “Boring as hell without you, what else?”

  “Yeah, right. As if.”

  To fully understand him, one had to know that apart from the one obsession we shared about Spielberg-movies, soccer was Tony’s greatest passion in the world. But I appreciated his lie and stuck my tongue out at him.

  Tony tsked at that. “Manners, girl. If you want to kiss me, just say so.” His face was close enough that his nose brushed mine. I swallowed the urge to tilt my head and really do that. But I knew he was teasing me again. So far, we’d never kissed. In regular intervals, I fell asleep in his bedroom when we did a Jaws-marathon, or he would crash at mine when his parents were out on business trips around the state. He let me rest my head on his shoulder, even played absently with my hair. But a kiss? Nah.

  I was going to be seventeen at the end of this summer and started feeling a little weird because I hadn’t been kissed yet. But no one other than Tony would touch my lips, and if he needed a few more months to realize he wanted me, too, I could wait.

  “Hey, want to go down to the beach? I got this pretty new swimsuit and haven’t tried it out yet.” In anticipation of our reunion, I had put on the neon green bikini in the morning, and now pulled down the collar of my pink tee to tease him with a glimpse. Green was his favorite color.

  He snarled like a jaguar, with one corner of his mouth lifted. “I’d love to see you half naked, Matthews.” Just another tease, but it didn’t matter. Goose bumps shot up on my skin. “Unfortunately, I have to pass. I’m going to see some friends from the team down at Charlie’s.”

  My shoulders slumped. “Seriously? You just got back, what, ten minutes ago? Didn’t you see the guys enough at camp?”

  “Hunter wants to discuss tomorrow’s qualifications.”

  I pouted. Ever since Ryan Hunter had become the new captain of Grover Beach’s high school soccer team, Tony’s training time had doubled. And more training meant less time for him to hang out with me. I hated Hunter.

  “Cheer up, girl. Why don’t you come along? You know most of the guys anyway, and I’ll introduce you to the rest. I’m sure Hunter won’t mind.” He gave me no chance to argue, or even trade my flip-flops for decent shoes. My hand in a tight grip, he hauled me down the path through our front yard.

  “Wait! I have no money on me.”

  “Don’t need it. That single soda you’ll sip on for the next two hours won’t ruin me.”

  I pulled my hair back and fastened it with a band I had in my pocket as we ambled along Saratoga Avenue to Charlie’s café and diner.

  A bunch of kids sat around three tables in the shade of the wooden roof sloping over half of the outdoor area. I recognized a few of them from Tony’s team. Sasha Torres, Stephan Jones, Alex Winter. Nick Andrews’ arm was laid in a cast. The training camp obviously didn’t pass without leaving battle scars.

  I was surprised with the many female faces there, though. “What’s this?” I whispered to Tony when we still were out of earshot. “Are you into co-ed training now?”

  “Cool, isn’t it? We played a few games together in Santa Monica, and Hunter thought it would be fun to assemble a mixed team here, too.”

  Some of the girls looked familiar, and I even had Spanish with Susan Miller. But a handful of them I swore I had never seen before. Like the one who stood as we approached and kissed Tony on the cheek with her awfully bright red painted lips.

  “You’re late, Anthony. I almost thought you wouldn’t come.”

  Anthony? The only person I ever heard calling him that was his grandma.

  “Hi, Cloey,” he replied in a strange, deep voice I’d never heard before. His hands r
ested on her hips. He dipped his head and let her kiss his other cheek.

  She winked at him then gave me the strangest once over I ever got. The spite in her eyes made me feel as if I fell short in the looks and fashion department in her books.

  My glance skated to Tony’s face. What the hell was that? And seriously, he didn’t have to drool over her shamelessly long legs when she sat down again and swung one over the other. Her white mini dress must have shrunk in the wash, because something red flashed underneath.

  Tony shouted our order to Charlie behind the bar. A Coke and Red Bull. The Red Bull certainly wasn’t for me. But when did he start drinking that nasty stuff? Red-lips-and-white-dress had a bottle of that in front of her, too. I started feeling really awkward all of a sudden.

  “Mixed soccer teams, huh?” I grumbled at Tony while we sat down—he opposite Cloey, and I between him and Nick with the cast.

  “The tryouts are tomorrow, Matthews. I can put you on the list, if you’re interested,” Ryan Hunter called out to me, a mocking glint in his deep brown eyes.

  The fact he even knew my name caught me off guard.

  “Liz and soccer?” Tony laughed next to me. It hurt in a weird way. “You might as well try to get an elephant dance the tango. Right, Liz?”

  I directed an irritated scowl at my supposed best friend. He didn’t even notice when the entire bunch joined in the laugh.

  “The elephant is a close hit home,” Barbie said to the redhead next to her then flashed me a cruel smile.

  Sorry, what? I was a perfect size XS. My five feet four might seem a little short to her Amazonian six foot something, but I was in no way fat. I picked up my dropped stomach from the ground, deciding to punish Tony later for pretending not to have heard that. In all the time we had been friends, not once did he let anyone insult me without breaking their jaw. Okay, messing with Cloey’s face would be a little drastic, but he could at least have said something to defend me.

  Since he seemed to have forgotten how, I returned the saccharin sweet smile to the Barbie Clone. “I tried puking my meals in ninth grade, but then this seems to be more your thing than mine.”

  The laughter died, and Tony choked on his swig of Red Bull while the rest of the group pretended to be conversing in lowered voices. The only sound, a chuckle, came from the place where Ryan Hunter sat.

  Cloey frowned at me as if I’d spoken a foreign language. “Did you just insult me?”

  The funny thing was she really meant it. I cut a glance skyward and sipped on my Coke.

  Thankfully, Tony got a text message from his mother a little later. Mrs. Mitchell was hoping to see him again before she and her husband had to leave town for two days. Tony looked at my glass of soda and asked me if I wanted to stay with the others.

  I downed the drink in three seconds, already standing. “Nope, I’m ready.”

  He shook his head, but smiled, and let me walk in front of him.

  “See you tomorrow, Anthony,” Barbie cooed.

  I ignored the rising heat of jealousy and resisted the urge to glare at her over my shoulder. Instead, I counted the tiles on the floor to the exit. One, two, three…

  “How about it, Matthews?” Ryan Hunter said as I passed him. “Will you opt for the team or not?”

  I stopped, stunned that he was serious about it. My eyes fastened on the easy smile he cast me. “I—”

  Tony’s hands on my shoulders gently pushed me forward. “You shouldn’t tease her. She’s just not made for soccer.”

  My heels dug into the ground. Not because he tried to save me from answering, but because of her snortling laugh behind me. “Know what?” I turned to face Tony with a determined glare. “I think I’ll just give it a shot.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  That didn’t require a reply, but I raised my brows at him anyway.

  “Cool, so you’re on the list. We meet at ten on the field.”

  I turned to Hunter’s amused tone and gave him a polite smile. “I’ll be there.”

  A ball cap shadowed his face as he lowered his chin, but I could feel his gaze skim down to where my cut off jeans ended then travel slowly farther down my naked legs and back up. “Bring shoes.” He smirked and winked at me.

  This sent a shiver skating down my neck. Tony shoved me out of the café before I could figure out why.

  We walked most of the way in silence, until we were close to home and I exploded right in his face. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “What?” He looked at me baffled like a toddler who was robbed of his sucker.

  “You let that girl insult me and didn’t say anything.”

  “You had everything under control. And she didn’t really insult you.”

  “Oh, right. You did! You called me an elephant.”

  Tony took my hand and pulled me with him. “You know it wasn’t meant like that. I don’t see why you’re throwing a fit now. You never liked soccer. When did that change?”

  “Today. Now I love it.”

  “Yeah, I can see that. So badly that you want to be a player.” He rolled his eyes. “Please, tell me you’re not doing this because of Cloey.”

  I’m doing it for you, idiot. But it would have taken more than a crazy afternoon to tell him that. I gritted my teeth. “The girl can get lost in her closet full of Barbie dresses.”

  Suddenly, his arm was wrapped around my shoulders, and he pulled me close to his side as we walked on. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous of her.”

  “We have been best friends since we grew out of our diapers,” I moaned, being slightly comforted by his embrace.

  “And I promise we’ll still be when we need them again.” His laugh rocked me with him. “Cloey is just a girl who likes to play soccer. But you’re the only girl I know who can watch E.T. without bursting in tears.”

  Even though there was this obvious note of admiration, I couldn’t help but feel a chill sneaking around my heart the way he said it. Like I was one of the guys and not a delicate girl like Cloey. I wiggled out of his embrace, and a snort escaped me.

  Tony quirked his brows. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “No,” I grumbled.

  He waited a second, eying me with skepticism. “Okay. Is this one of those moments where you say no but actually mean yes?”

  “No.”

  He slapped his hands to his face then slowly dragged them down, glancing helplessly at the sky. “You know I don’t speak this language. Just tell me your problem.”

  “There is no problem!” I ran up the path to my house, slamming the door behind me.

  CHAPTER

  2

  AT NINE THIRTY the following morning, I answered the door and found Tony outside. Hands braced on the doorframe and head hanging, he cast me a sheepish grin as he looked at me from under those incredibly gorgeous lashes.

  “Still mad?”

  I swallowed. The endless speech I had prepared for him the previous evening—including words like ignorant, idiot, and dumbass—had slipped from my mind. “Never again call me an elephant,” was all that came out in a low grumble.

  “Promise.” The silly boy pouted and even crossed his heart.

  I smiled. “We’re good then.”

  Tony’s metallic green mountain bike leaned against our low picket fence. I grabbed mine from the shed, and we cycled to the high school soccer field together. Close to fifty girls and boys from tenth to twelfth grade had gathered in front of one of the goal posts. Someone was handing out numbers as we joined them. Already a member of the team, Tony didn’t have to participate in the tryouts. But I lined up to get mine.

  “Forty-seven…Matthews,” Ryan Hunter shouted to Susan Miller, who wrote down names on a list. He gave me the sticker which I was supposed to pop on my chest and smiled. So far, I hadn’t seen Ryan without his ball cap, except on rare occasions, and then from far away, too. But today, the sun played in his dark ha
ir that fell devilishly over his forehead, giving him a whole new appearance. His unexpected good looks took me unaware, and he caught me staring. His matter of fact tone changed to a sly rumble. “Good luck, Matthews.”

  When everyone got their numbers, he raised his voice over the chatting crowd. “Okay, everybody. For a little warm-up, I want you to run three laps around the field then come back here.”

  Panic kicked me in the gut. “Is he kidding? Three laps?”

  “Don’t say you already regret opting for the team.”

  I hated Tony’s I-told-you-so chuckle as he dragged me from the trimmed lawn and started jogging next to me. Swallowing my retort, I tried to match his pace. Impossible of course, when one of his strides measured two of mine.

  Shit, one lap seemed like ten miles. Screw Hunter and his warm-up. By the time I was done, I collapsed on the grass, hearing nothing but my own erratic breathing. Thank the Lord, I had a chance to catch my breath as forty-six candidates attempted to score goals before it was my turn.

  Tony got me a drink from the water cooler while I mimed a dead frog for several minutes. My mouth and throat felt like the desert. As he stepped over me, his shadow was a welcome respite from the sun. I sat up, longing for the cup of water he held out to me.

  But when I grabbed the plastic cup, my heart sank. “So little?” I held the mouthful of liquid against the sun, turning it this way and that, seeing if it would miraculously become more. “There’s something seriously wrong with your head.”

  “Not at all.” He laughed. “But since you can hardly breathe after this short run, more water would make you sick. In fact, it would be better if you just rinsed your mouth with this and spit it out.”

  I offered him a sneer. “Can I spit it into your face?” Not waiting for his come back, I downed the little he granted me. The sip evaporated on my tongue in an instant.