Let the games begin

“Fuck,” Heather breathes, her body stiffening against me.

“What?” I ask her in surprise. I know the way to the stadium quite well by now, and we gave ourselves plenty of time for a leisurely walk, so I haven’t really been watching where we’re going—most of my attention has been on Heather. “What’s wrong, love?”

“I forgot he went to Astor,” she hisses. “I should have realized . . .”

I look up, a sinking feeling in my stomach. Astor University—the Colonels—is our opponent this weekend. Who . . . ? And then I look up to see my absolute no-question least-favorite of all Heather’s exes: Rick Wood. Who was—of course—the star shortstop and cleanup hitter for our high-school team. Before I have time to say anything, he sees Heather, and his face lights up in an unpleasant smile. I lean toward her and mutter, “Don’t tell him I’m on the team. Don’t say anything about it. If he doesn’t know, I don’t want him to.” I speak quickly, not wanting him to hear me.

I didn’t need to worry. He doesn’t even see me until he’s almost on top of us, never mind pay me any attention. “Hey, babe,” he says breezily. “Come to watch me play? Freshman starter—they couldn’t deny the talent.” He is, as he always was, insufferably smug. “Come to see me, hoping I’d take you back, huh? Maybe we could get together after the game and you could—try out—for the position.”

“No, Rick,” Heather says frostily; the bitterness in her tone makes me flinch, but he’s impervious. “I’m here with my boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Rick responds with raised eyebrows. He looks around, apparently honestly puzzled. His eyes take note of me on their way past. “Then what are you doing hanging around with this loser?”

If Heather’s tone was frosty before, it’s positively arctic now. “Andrew is my boyfriend.”

Rick bursts out laughing; it’s an ugly sound. “Him?! You need me worse than I imagined! Like he could satisfy you like I can . . . I—”

Heather cuts him off in a voice like a slap in the face; even Rick recoils a little. “Actually, his cock is better than yours—much better—longer, and thicker, and . . . harder . . .” She loses focus for a moment, her face and voice going dreamy, before pulling herself back on topic. “—and he knows how to use it, too. And his tongue. You only ever used yours for bragging, but he can do something useful with his. He made me cum more times last night than you did in all the time we were dating.”

That rocks me back. I lean over and mutter, “I hope you’re exaggerating.”

“No, I’m not,” she replies grimly out of the side of her mouth before turning her attention back to Rick, who’s gone an angry red mottled with grey and seems to be having trouble remembering how to breathe, he’s so furious. “I wouldn’t have you back on a bet.” On that note, we walk on, leaving him standing there trying to kick his brain back into gear. Once we turn the corner, Heather whoops in joy, throws her arms around me, and kisses me soundly. “Thank you, love,” she says, her voice heartfelt.

“For what?” I ask, bewildered. “I didn’t do anything.”

“For being you,” she says seriously. “You gave me the courage to put him down like the dog he is, just by being you.” She kisses me again.

“Umm, you’re welcome,” I say uncertainly. Then I remember a thought that has occurred to me before. “You know, it’s really too bad he goes by Rick.”

Now it’s Heather’s turn to be uncertain. “Umm, you think . . . Richard . . . would be better?” she asks hesitantly.

“No. I’ve always thought he should go by Dick so both his first and last names would be slang terms for ‘penis.’”

She looks at me for a moment in utter disbelief before breaking out in gales of laughter. I wrap my arms around her and she clings to me for balance as her body shakes. When she has herself mostly under control, Heather kisses me hard and says, “Thank you, love. You make everything better.” Suddenly, mischief glints in her eyes. “I wonder how he’ll react when he sees you on the field?”