Spiked by Love(9)

I needed to be Asher Brooks, weirdo. Not Asher Brooks, Aiden Brooks’s brother.

I did that, got my heart broken, and now I’m right back at the University of Bellevue. Not for me, but for my bestie. She loves it here, and I can see the appeal. I actually love the setup of this school. It’s like a mini town with everything you need, from a Dollar General to a Panera. There is a sports compound, a bunch of state-of-the-art buildings for classes, and the dorms are like little condos. It is nice, but it wasn’t for me. Not sure California was either. I got my education and I learned so much, but in the love department… That’s a whole other story.

Ah, you live and you learn. But sometimes, I’m unsure where I belong.

It’s a question I struggle with, but I’ll figure it out. I’m young, and I try to remind myself of that. I have time, but I always strive to be solid. I want to know where I am is where I am supposed to be. I want to know I can build a life, and most of all, I want to be happy. I don’t know where this need for stability comes from. My parents gave us that and more, and maybe that’s why? Maybe I’m so used to having it provided by my parents, that now that I don’t, it’s fucking with me. Or maybe I’m trying to rush it. I don’t know. I just need to know I am okay. I need a job, I need regular sex in the form of a great relationship with a straight female, and I need comfort. I may not have it all figured out—I have only been home for a few days, and I need to relax. But I know one thing. I need to leave my parents’ house. I need space. I really need to call Aiden.

I enter the gym, and the Bullies’ volleyball team is warming up as I head to the bleachers. I find Ally, and she’s directing and warming up her team. She takes up the whole court with her confidence and leadership. She doesn’t need that C on her jersey to let everyone know her role. She exudes it. Her hair is up in a tight ponytail, and she’s wearing her teal and black volleyball shirt with the number two on the back and her name, TITOV. She has on those skimpy little black shorts that a weaker man couldn’t resist.

I am that weaker man.

I don’t care that she’s my best friend. That ass don’t quit, and I truly enjoy watching those shorts try to contain it. It’s almost a game for me. How many times will Ally pick her wedgie? I counted eight times one game; it was a blast. As I pass by her, I try to wave, but she’s in the zone, so I head up the bleachers. I’m almost to the top when I hear my name.

I follow the voice to find Harper and Jakob Titov, Ally’s parents. A wide grin comes over my face as I walk toward them. Harper stands, her face bright as I go into her arms. She hasn’t changed a bit. Ally is the spitting image of her but a little thicker. Harper has cut her hair. It’s shorter now and she looks like a soccer mom rather than a volleyball mom, but she’s a showstopper for sure. No wonder Jakob doesn’t let her out of his sight.

“Oh, Asher, it’s so good to see you.”

I hug her once more. “It’s great to see you too. How are you doing?”

“Great, and you?”

I shrug. “Living the dream.”

She grins as I shake Jakob’s hand. “You’ve gotten taller.”

I smile and shake my head ruefully. “My dad says he’s glad I’ve filled out.”

Jakob nods. “Seems to me, you ate old Asher.”

I laugh. As with everyone else in the Assassins organization, I’ve known Jakob my whole life. He is an assistant coach for the team now. He and my dad played together for many years. Jakob retired before my dad, but he can’t stay far from the sport or the team. No one really can. “Yeah, Ally said the same thing.”

He chuckles as I sit between them. “I like your shirt,” Harper says, and I rub my chest.

“It’s a wee bit tight.”

She laughs since she got this shirt for me when Ally first started playing. Their shirts both read “Number One Fan,” while mine says “Number 2 Fan.” It’s funny, and I only wear it because it makes Ally happy. When I feel her gaze on me, I glance down to see her watching us. I stand up then, shaking my shirt at her. Well, the best I can—it’s really tight, actually—and she grins widely at me. When she turns, I sit back down, and Harper is watching me.

“Got a job yet?”

“I go for my interview Friday with Elli. Jeez, Mama Harp, I just got here.”

She grins at me. “You’re a planner. I figured you’d have a job, a place, and a car before you even got here.”

She isn’t wrong. “Yeah, I kind of left in a hurry. Had to get away from the ex.”

She grimaces, and I hate that look. Everyone gives me that look. I hate the sympathy it brings, along with the shame. Yeah, I was engaged to a closet lesbian. Yes, I’m an idiot. Yes, I left all my property with her. But hey, I’m here and trying to make my life better.

Even if the thought of not having my life planned gives me crazy anxiety.

I look around the gym. It’s one of those high-tech ones. Really flashy with the nice bleachers that have chair seats with cushions. Better than the Assassins’ arena, but the Bullies’ jumbotron has nothing on the Assassins’. I bring in my brows, disgusted by what I see. It’s obvious someone has been dragging ass on changing out some bulbs. There are two lines through one of the screens, and that’s uncalled-for. They have damn cushions on their seats; they can afford some damn lightbulbs. I move my eyes around the gym, trying to find someone, but my gaze only falls back on Harper.

Who, again, is watching me. With an innocent look, she asks, “So, dating anyone?”

I scratch my neck. “No, ma’am. Still getting over the ex.”

She frowns. “But it’s been five months. Get over her. She didn’t deserve you.”

I laugh. “I guess.”

“Too much penis, I say,” Jakob teases, and I scoff.

I’m never living this down.

“Maybe an inch too much,” I tease back, and he chuckles loudly.

“There are plenty of women out there who want all the inches,” he jokes, and I nod.

“Gotta find them first.”

Harper holds out her hand. “There are a lot of them out on that floor. I know a really gorgeous girl who wears number two.”

I widen my eyes, but before I can say anything, Jakob speaks up. “Woman, what are you doing? They’re best friends. Don’t meddle with that.” He then leans into me. “She’s stressed cause Chalupa is back in the picture.”

I don’t know why it makes me laugh so hard that Jakob won’t call Ally’s ex Taco, but it does. I prefer Nacho, but Chalupa is funny too. But then I realize what he just said—and now, I’m pissed. “I thought she was calling that off?”

“She says she is, but we all know how that goes.”

I shake my head. “Such shit. She deserves better.”

“Exactly. So maybe you should jump in there?” Harper suggests, and I laugh.

“Harp, come on, it’s not like that,” Jakob says once more. “She’ll find someone good. Asher won’t let her live down dating shit.”

“This is true,” I agree as the game starts.

“I just think you two are great together. Why not take it to the next level?”

I’ve never had a mom openly say she wants me to have sex with her daughter, but I’m pretty sure that’s what Harper is insinuating. Jakob gives her a dirty look. “Can you not pimp out our daughter?”

She shrugs. “Just saying. Sometimes friends are meant to be more.”

I can’t even process what she’s saying before Jakob’s voice turns very stern. “Harper, stop, baby. She’s gonna be fine. Stop putting Asher on the spot. We want him around.”

She looks at me, and I smile. “I’ll always be around.”

She exhales heavily. “I just wish it was in the way I wanted.”

I blink, and then the whistle is blown.

Easy to say, the rest of the game is totally awkward.





Chapter Six





Ally



“Two! Two! I said fucking two!”

When I call my position, I feel I should get the fucking ball. I know that sometimes the ball doesn’t do what my back row wants it to, but I know damn well Nicolette could get it to me. Instead, she passes it to Angie, who does a shit-ass job of setting it, because hello, she’s not a setter, leaving me to make a play out of complete shit.

I succeed, but still, come the hell on!

I tip the ball short, and when the opposition tries to hit it up, she gets caught in the net. Point for the Bullies. It puts us up by four, a good lead, but four fuckups or four aces, and they will catch up.

“We need to keep the lead! Nic, babe, come on!” I yell as we circle up, patting one another’s backs. “I need the pass so I can set. It’s Volleyball 101. Pass it to your setter.”

She’s sucking in breath. We did just have an intense volley, but that’s why we condition like crazy. For the endurance we need to stay in the game. “I know. I’m sorry.”

I pat her thigh, giving her a stern but loving look. “You got this. Let’s do this, girls. Let’s get this set.”

Coach Taylor is yelling something, but I don’t hear him. The gym is packed with students and families. I hear my dad clear as a bell, though, and Asher. They have this weird cheer they do where they spell out my name, and my mom yells the first letter of our last name when they finish. It’s really embarrassing, but it is awesome to hear after so long. I don’t know how it started, the whole Ally T and Ash B thing. Maybe it was back in camp when there was another Ally and Asher. So, we made sure everyone knew who we were. Plus, we were the cooler Ally and Asher. Duh. A grin pulls at my lips. It’s a nice reminder that we had the best time at camp.