Page 31 of Playing with the Heartbreaker

“Yeah,” says Teagan. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend everyone. See you Monday at practice. Nice job, Chloe. Be sure to thank your boyfriend for us.”

Before I can correct her, she, along with everyone else, is gone, and Rhoads is approaching me. I hope he didn’t hear her. And I also curse my past self for losing the juggling contest my teammates and I had to decide who has to put away the gear.

“Thanks,” I say, my voice cracking. “You totally saved us.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll think of some way to repay me.”

“I will?”

“Yeah. I have a hunch about these things. I’m thinking Mario Kart plus car wash equals bacon. Extra crispy.” He starts to wind up the hose, then pauses, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. He directs the sprayer toward me with a full laugh. I turn, catching water on the back of my legs.

“That’s cold!” The water trickles down my calves and into my slip-on sandals, pooling in a cool puddle under my toes. “You are going to pay for that.” I grab a sponge and dunk it into the still-full bucket of soapy water. Lemon-scented bubbles float upward.

He sprays me again, soaking my hair this time. Water streaks down my face. I launch the sponge. It thwacks him square in the chest.

“I’m hit. I’m hit.” He sinks to his knees, dropping the hose.

I take the opportunity to shut off the water and stand over his prone body, one hand on the spigot and the other on the hose. “Admit defeat. Or accept the consequences.”

On his back, Rhoads looks up at me, tiny soap bubbles clinging to his jawline. It is unfair how good-looking he is, even like this. He holds his hands up in surrender. “You win; you win.” He sits up and reaches out his hand. “Nice aim.”

I toss the hose to the side and help him up. “Thanks.”

Someone coughs behind us. I turn and freeze.

Graham Carmack, my ex-boyfriend, leans against his Jeep, his arms folded and an amused expression on his face. “I guess I’m too late, huh?”

Thirteen

CHLOE

The words roll around between my ears, muffled as if I’d submerged my head in the bucket of dirty water. I blink a few times.

Nope. Not a mirage.

He’s still there, every inch of his six-foot-two, muscled body illuminated in the sun. His cut-off T-shirt reveals just enough of his abdomen to show the effects of his daily workout.

My own muscles are no longer in contact with my brain, which says, Get out of here! And, Say something! And, Quit staring!

Graham rumples his sandy hair and squints at me. “So… am I too late?”

Too late for what? To convince me to give him another chance? That ship sailed a long time ago, and there is no sign of its sails billowing in the breeze.

“No, you’re not too late,” Rhoads says, his jaw tight. The laughter from before has completely dried up. He tosses a sponge to me. Reflexively, I catch it. All those practice sessions with Janae, our goalkeeper, must have transferred some of her hand-eye coordination to me. “She will absolutely take your money.”

“I would have been here sooner, but practice ran long. I don’t mind helping. Hand me the hose?” Graham accepts the hose from Rhoads, who twists the spigot to restart the water.

“Pour some soap in the bucket, Baker?” Rhoads asks.

I snap from my reverie. “Right, yeah. Sure.” I uncap the bottle and squirt a bit of neon yellow liquid into the bucket, which Graham fills with water.

Of course he’d been talking about the car wash. Not me.

Rhoads looks between us as Graham circles his Jeep, spraying layers of dirt to the ground. I dip the sponge into the bucket and slap it onto the hood. Bubbles rise into the air.

Beside me, Rhoads scrubs the passenger side.

Soup would be easier to breathe than the air right now. Graham and I haven’t talked since we broke up. Luck has been on my side, allowing me to avoid him. Avoid this. The awkwardness of it all chisels away at the high I’d been riding moments ago.