Our Secret Moments (Drayton Hills Series)

CONNOR

EVERY YEAR, like clockwork, we have a brunch the morning after our birthday. When we were kids, we’d have massive blow-out parties per our parent’s requests, and the morning-after brunch was a smaller get-together where we’d recoup. It was a way for my parents to cure their hangover while spending time with us and making sure we had a good birthday.

Now, it’s the opposite way around. My parents usually leave the house up to us on our birthdays while they spend their night at our cabin in Aspen and Wes and Nora get shitfaced whilst I make sure they’re under control. Since we turned seventeen, and alcohol became much more desirable we’ve become the ones with the hangovers whilst our parents spread out waffles, pancakes and French toast on the table as me, my sister, Cat, Elle, and Wes grunt and groan whilst basking in the rare November sunshine on the back porch.

Nora rubs her head as she attempts to sip the orange juice she has in front of her, wearing her oversized sunglasses. “I feel like death upon death upon more death.”

“I second that,” Elle murmurs, reaching for the tropical juice my mom put together. Cat groans beside her in agreement, dropping her head onto Elle’s shoulder, also wearing a huge pair of sunglasses.

“You should all take a page out of my book,” I say proudly around a mouthful of scrambled eggs. I smile to myself, knowing I feel perfectly fine after not having more than one drink last night. They all moan at the same time, sounding like a pack of zombies.

“And what book is that? How to be boring and sober?” Wes asks and he shakes his head, answering himself. He runs a hand through his hair, his newly manicured nails glimmering in the sunlight before placing his Drayton Hills cap back on his head, shielding him from the sun as he slowly sinks his head into Nora’s lap. “I’m good,” he whispers snuggling into her lap.

Nora pats his head condescendingly. “I’m never drinking again.”

Cat laughs, the sound rushing right through me even though she’s not even laughing at or even with me. “You said that last time and the time before that,” she replies, giggling. “Plus, we all know that when Ry-Ry’s birthday comes up, you’re going to use it as another excuse to go out again.”

“That’s if you’re still together by then,” I mutter. I’m sure Nora shoots me a look behind her sunglasses, but it’s hard to tell. I don’t miss the way Cat leans up off Elle’s shoulder, pushing her glasses to her head and glares at me. “I mean, of course you’ll be together by then.”

“Yeah,” Nora responds quietly, resting her head against the back of the chair.

It still baffles me every day how she manages to put up with him. He’s good to her in all the ways that matter, – according to her – but he has a bad habit of not showing up when he needs to.

He always has some stupid excuse and lets her down. They’ve been together so long that I’m convinced she would let him break her heart piece by piece then let go of him. I’ve tried talking sense into her, as has everyone else, but she won’t give up on him. I’m terrified to find out what she’d let him do before she finally lets him go.

“That guy is a dick,” Wes mutters. I hum in agreement and Nora hits him on the top of his head. “Okay, ouch. I already have a headache. No need to add salt to the wound.”

I finish off what’s on my plate, downing another glass of orange juice before I let out a long sigh. “Well, you’re going to have to look as picture perfect as you can, Wesley, because we have to meet coach later.”

“Oh, shit,” he curses, sitting up out of my sister’s lap. “And we’ve got that thing at Ollie’s today.”

Catherine’s eyebrow quirks. “What thing?”

Wes opens his mouth, but I stop him. “Nothing. Just post-game stuff,” I say to her, smiling as she narrows her eyes at me further. I turn back to Wes as he rubs at his temples. “Get your ass up, Mackenzie.”

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” he mutters, finally getting up out of his seat and stacking the plates on top of each other.

After we’ve cleaned up the kitchen, listened to thirty different songs and made it back to campus, Wes is still complaining about his hangover. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him to pace himself when he drinks, but he never listens to me. He usually ends up in some random girl’s bed after they give him the look and then complains about it to me for a week.

“Don’t even breathe on me, man,” he murmurs as we walk towards his dad’s office. “I swear my brain is about to fall out of my skull.”

“You just never learn, do you?” I ask, nudging my shoulder into his.

“I was fine when I left the party. It’s your sister who doesn’t know when to stop,” he retorts. I still have no idea what they were doing last night in my dorm, but she was gone by the morning, so I didn’t even bother to ask. “One more drink turns into five with her. Who knew drunk karaoke could be so much fun.”

So that’s what all the noise was last night. I thought a deer was being murdered.

“Besides, she’s just distracting herself because Ryan didn’t show,” I say. Just thinking about that jackass makes me feel sick. “Did she say anything to you about him?”

Wes shakes his head. “Nah. He called her a few times, but she put her phone on silent. I didn’t want to poke any wounds, so I kept my mouth shut.”

“Thank you for keeping quiet for once in your life,” I say, ruffling his curls.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mocks. “Anything for you, Connie boy.”

As weird as it is to say, Coach Mackenzie’s office is one of the most comforting places on earth. Despite the stench from the locker room a few doors down, his office always smells like Vanilla candles – courtesy of Wes’s mom May – and everything always looks clean. He has a fresh line of trophies that we’ve won as a team and that he’s won with previous teams. He has a million pictures of Wes as a baby doing some dumb shit. Everything about this place just feels perfect.

After coming in here at least once a week for the past year, I should’ve known that he’d be able to suss out Wes’s not so subtle hangover.

“Son,” Mackenzie chides after we’ve been engaging in small talk for the last five minutes. Wes’s eyes shoot up. “Please tell me you’re taking this season seriously.”

“As serious as the plague,” Wes replies, grinning. Coach’s frown deepens. “Dad, it was Connie and Nora’s twentieth. What did you expect me to do?”

“I expect you to be more responsible. Considering he’s the birthday boy, it’s weird how he doesn’t look as beat as you do,” Coach counters.

“That’s because he’s a party pooper,” Wes groans.

I flick him at the back of his head. “Why do you love to talk about me when I’m right here?” I ask, visibly annoyed as I cross my arms against my chest. “But don’t worry, Coach. We’re going to be on a better track this season. I swear I’ll keep little Wessy here in place.”

Coach nods, his frown softening a little. As much as we give him a hard time, he’s always going to have a soft spot for us. I know I’m his favourite and Wes is close second.

“Good,” Coach says, “Because you’ve got a lot riding on this season, boys. All of you do, but you two especially. I know how hard you work and how you want to be drafted, but it takes a lot more commitment than you realise.”

“We know,” I reply.

“Do you? Because you don’t seem to be taking things seriously enough. I don’t want to sound like a grump, but I want what’s best for you and I hope you can pass on the message to the rest of the team at the briefing before tonight’s game,” Coach explains with a sigh. Wes and I both nod. “And this thing with Catherine is going to help you tons, so take that seriously too. She’s a nice girl and I hope you are being good to her.”

My mind instantly floods with thoughts of last night.

My hands all over her body.

Her ass nestled into my crotch.

The smoothness of her skin beneath mine.

The soft touch of her lips under my finger.

“Yeah, we are,” Wes says, winking at me. “Some of us more than others.”

My face heats up as Coach eyes me suspiciously. It’s not like he told us not to fool around with her. In fact, I’m the one who made up that rule so no one could interfere with the very obvious crush I have on her.

“Right…” Coach says, dropping his gaze to his laptop. “Just look after yourself, boys. And listen to your bodies. I know it’s uncomfortable to talk about, but it’s true. Who knows what you guys get up to off the pitch, but I just want you to be in your best shape physically and mentally.”

Wes rolls his head back. “Yes, dad, we’re fine,” he says before his eyes light up and his posture straightens. “In fact, that’s why we’re going to Oliver’s house after the game later to use the pool and the ice bath. There’s going to be food and drinks–” Coach’s eyebrows raise. “Of apple juice, obviously, because we never drink during the season.”

Shitty save but it’s a save nonetheless, and Coach seems to buy it. “Well, don’t have too much fun,” he says, pointing between the two of us. “And don’t have too much apple juice.”

Wes’s mischievous grin grows tenfold as he turns to me, a knowing smirk forming across his face. “Oh, we won’t.”

I don’t know what that means, but I’m fucking terrified to find out.

CAT

If I thought the first few rounds of interviewing were challenging, this is much worse.

I’ve not been to a football match in months and with the tons of homework I have piled up, I didn’t get to go to my first game as being part of the team. Part of me wanted to go, to experience the atmosphere first hand, but the other part of me is glad I didn’t because the aftermath is much worse.

I tried to do some research on how college football actually works, but it just gave me a headache. I scheduled time out of my studying timetable to catch the boys after the game that they just won. I wanted to get their first reactions, some comments on the tactics they used and the best parts of the game. Instead, I got ambushed by sweaty men all whooping and yelling about how good they played.

After I brushed them aside and the pitch and the stands were cleared, Wes and Sam somehow had some sort of energy left in them as they dragged me back to the pitch with them. I have no clue where Connor went, and I didn’t want to ask. Distancing myself from him seems like the best option after last night.

I can still feel him everywhere. No matter how many drinks I had and how confident I suddenly got, I can still remember it all. There would be no way I’d be able to forget the way his hands felt on me. The way he kissed my neck. The way his hands flexed on my hips each time I rolled my ass into him, feeling his hard length beneath me. I was hungry and downright desperate, which is not like me at all.

That’s the only reason I agreed to watch Wes and Sam run laps as I finished up some of my notes from today’s hectic session with the team. I’m starting to get a hang of it, finally. My ideas and layouts are starting to pull together in a more tangible way, and I can’t wait to see how it’s going to turn out when I go back to Rotford for a check-in.

It also helps with how beautiful the pitch looks at sunset. The sun is fading into a deep orange behind the mountains that envelop Drayton and the spotlights on the pitch glimmer down onto the track. The bleachers are still messy post-game, but it feels vibrant, nonetheless. This is one part of Drayton I’ve missed out on.

“I’m not doing this again,” I say, shutting my laptop as I step down from the bleachers, reaching a very sweaty and stinky Sam and Wes.

“Thank you, Cathy,” Wes coos sweetly. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“And you’re both idiots,” I say, walking past them. I don’t know what sane person would want to run laps for fun after just playing a competitive game of football, but maybe it’s some sort of hangover cure? I don’t know.

Sam slings his sweaty arm around my shoulder as we exit the field. “You don’t know how to have any fun,” he says, swaying me to the side.

“I do. Watching you run laps just isn’t exactly my idea of fun,” I retort.

“What about being in a swimming pool with four football players?” Wes asks.

Weird question, but he’s a weird guy. “Tempting, but no. I’m busy,” I say, my automatic response.

“Come on, Cat. You said yourself that the only way to get to know us more is by hanging out with us. No offence, but you’re going to make a very shitty report if you don’t know us outside of football,” Wes argues.

“Yeah,” Sam adds. “We wind down best by swimming at Oli’s.”

I think about it for a minute.

That doesn’t sound too bad. I love swimming and I haven’t been in a while. And he’s right. I do need to get to know them better. After today’s defeat with the excitement after the game, this could be a better opportunity to get to know them whilst having a little bit of fun.

A bit of fun can’t hurt, right?

JoJo’s voice rings in my head, which is the only reason I find myself saying, “Fine. I’ll go.”