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Subject: {ASSM} NEW Playing the Game III: The Competitive Edge, Ch. 8
Date: Fri, 17 Oct 2003 11:10:05 -0400
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And here we are, plodding along once again...
Enjoy!
RCM
Rev. Cotton Mather
Senior Pastor,
Church of the Erotic Redemption
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ReverendCottonMather/www
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I'd do it all over you**
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<1st attachment, "CE8.txt" begin>
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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather. This
story is the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or
downloaded for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for
anyone to download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as
long as there is no intent to charge money or barter for the
privilege of acquiring this material.
(copyright 2003, Rev. Cotton Mather)
E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather@hotmail.com
Don't be shy! I enjoy hearing from you.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME, BOOK III
by Reverend Cotton Mather
- 8 -
A PLATONIC HUG
We smoked Alabama in our game that weekend. Dan got a lot of
playing time, substituting for both starting defenders, me on the
right and Martin on the left. Martin and I ended up playing about
three-quarters of the game, and Dan was on the field for about 40
minutes, too.
On the long trip back from Tuscaloosa, Coach Pick told the team
about a tournament we were going to.
"Second week of October, boys," said Pick as our bus rolled through
northern Florida. "Let your professors know you'll be out of town
for the entire week."
"That's not mid-semester break, is it?" asked Spencer.
"Nope, it's the week before," said Coach. "Y'all will be missin'
about a week's worth of classes. We'll be back home for the break,
but we've got North Carolina comin' in for a game on Wednesday,
followed by Tennessee on the weekend."
"So we don't get a break," interjected Dan.
"Nope," confirmed Pick. "Now listen up here, boys. Like I said,
we're headin' up to Warshington D.C. for the Georgetown Invitational
Tournament. There'll be sixteen teams there. They're using
Georgetown, Maryland, and George Mason University soccer fields, and
the semifinals and finals will be held at RFK Stadium."
"How many games?" asked Bryan.
"Four games," said Pick. "Here's the deal. There's two halves of
the draw, let's call 'em the top half and the bottom half. The eight
teams seeded odd numbers, one through 15, play the top half, and the
even seeds play the bottom half. Winners advance, losers play in the
consolation draws, so everybody plays four games during the
tournament."
"Who all will be there, Coach? Same as last year?" That was Rick
Rogers, our starting keeper.
"Yup, pretty much," said Pick. "Georgetown, obviously, and
Maryland, and George Mason, Kentucky, Purdue, UConn, South Carolina,
Ohio State, a few others."
"Did they announce the seedings yet, Coach?" called out Jesse from
the back of the bus.
"As a matter of fact, I've got them right here," said Coach, waving
a sheet of paper. "Let's see now," he continued, looking over his
glasses at the paper in his hand. He smiled a little, enjoying
dragging it out. "It says here... let's see... Ah, here it is.
Yep." He looked up and grinned, obviously pleased with himself.
"University of Florida. Seeded number one."
A cheer went up in the bus, and the driver, caught up in the
celebration, honked the air horns.
"Now, don't get no idears that you're the king shit soccer team of
the world," admonished Pick as the cheering died down. "Remember
this is a sixteen team invitational, and teams ain't traveling three
days to come play there."
Pick walked down the main aisle of the bus, hanging on to the tops
of the seats as he strode. He looked each of us over, making sure we
were paying attention to what he was saying.
"There are a lot of good teams out there, boys. West Coast teams
from UCLA, Stanford, San Diego, Oregon. Hell, New Mexico has a top-
ten team, and we won't never see them unless we both get well into
the NCAA tournament." He turned and started back.
"Hey, we're the team in the East to beat, though, Coach," said Brad.
"You think so?" asked Pick. "Well, maybe we are. How 'bout the
University of Texas? They're not exactly a West Coast team, but
they'll give us a run for our money most any day."
"And don't forget South Carolina," called out Eddie Whitehead.
Pick whirled around and pointed, first at Eddie, and then at me.
"That's right, the Gamecocks." As he pointed my way, he said, "Ain't
that where that friend of yours plays, Sean? Trent What's-His-Name?"
"Abbott," I said. "Trent Abbott."
"Right, Abbott. Damn boy's got the tricks. He can score from damn
near anywhere on the field." Pick shook his head as he recalled
watching Trent.
"One player does not make a team," noted Jesse.
"Well, that's by-Christ true, son," said Pick. "Abbott's got a team
surroundin' him, you can bet on it. They're seeded in the two spot.
If all goes according to plan, we just might see them at RFK."
He was back at the front of the bus again, and he turned to face us
all. "But the road to the Georgetown Tournament title goes through
Gator country, boys, and the rest of them teams had best remember
that."
His pronouncement set up another round of whooping and hollering,
and I was happy to join in as we celebrated.
I didn't relish the thought of collecting a week's worth of homework
from my professors, but it would be great to be able to go to the
Georgetown Invitational Tournament. I was thinking it would be a
great reunion for me. After all, Eric Johnson played for Maryland,
and Trent would be there with his team. Maybe I would even get to
see Keisha Prescott, Eric's girlfriend, while we were there. I
doubted that Trent's girlfriend, Danielle Nickerson, would be there,
but I would take a visit from the friends I could, and not be an
ingrate. I settled back in my seat, and suddenly realized I was
happy, maybe the happiest I had been since coming to Florida.
___________________________________________________________________
Reggie and I had arranged to meet at a little coffeehouse left over
from the hippie days, a dive called The Glass Onion. It was located
in a rundown old building that looked like it should have been
demolished years before, but inside it was fairly clean. The
proprietors went by the names of Stone and Skye Parker, and they
looked like they had been time-warped straight from about 1968. They
both had long, straight hair, leather headbands, and beaded and
fringed vests. The walls were covered with concert posters for The
Doors, The Grateful Dead, The Who, Sly and the Family Stone, Janis
Joplin, and Jefferson Airplane, many of them apparently local
appearances at different venues around the Southeast. The coffees
and teas were fresh, however, and their homemade muffins and cookies
were outstanding. They also had quite a collection of leatherworks,
pottery, framed and unframed art, and crafts from students and local
artists, there on consignment. Stone and Skye did what they could to
support the local arts community, it seemed.
Still, it was funny to watch Stone and Skye working together. Their
conversations were sprinkled with leftover "Groovys" and "Far Outs"
and "Right Ons," anachronisms that, outside the coffeehouse, would
have been jarring. Inside their little enclave, though, it sounded
just about right.
I got there a few minutes early and ordered coffee and a brownie.
The brownie worried me just a little, but it was all because of the
ambiance of the place. There wasn't anything... funny... in the
brownie. I was sure of it. No, really.
Reggie walked in a few minutes later. I almost didn't recognize
her, since she was now wearing standard student garb instead of party
clothes. I would have thought she wouldn't look comfortable in t-
shirts and shorts, but here she was, dressed casually in a scoop-
necked pink shirt, tight shorts, and pink sandals. Her dark hair was
pulled back and clipped with a plastic comb sort of thing, and she
was sporting dark sunglasses that she perched on top of her head as
she walked in out of the bright sunshine into the dim coffeehouse. I
was struck again by how very pretty she was. If she was in love with
a guy back home, having somebody to hang around with here at school
would be an asset to a girl as attractive as Reggie, if for no other
reason than to keep the wolves at bay. I could just imagine somebody
as slimy as Westy hitting on her as soon as they spotted her.
She glanced around, saw me sitting at a table, and came over. She
slipped gracefully into the chair opposite me.
"Hi," she said. She looked around, but I couldn't tell if she
approved of the place or not by her noncommittal expression.
"Would you like something?" I asked.
She smiled at me, a good sign. "Iced tea would be nice," she said.
Her very slight accent reminded me somehow of the East Coast, but I
couldn't really say why.
I got up and ordered an iced tea from Skye, and Stone wordlessly put
an orange-banana muffin on a paper plate for me.
"She looks more like a muffin girl than the brownie kind," said Skye.
"I'm a brownie kind?" I asked her.
She smiled at me, a bright and happy look on her open and unreserved
face. "Of course you are, Sean. Through and through."
I just shook my head at her in amazement, and carried the muffin and
the glass of tea back to our table.
"You've been here before?" asked Reggie.
"Nope," I replied.
"Oh. She seemed like she knows you," she said.
"I just met them a little bit ago," I said. "They're pretty easy-
going and friendly, though. Before you can order anything from them,
they insist on knowing your name."
She tore off a miniscule portion of muffin and examined it before
putting it in her mouth. She bit down tentatively, looked up at me
in surprise, and pinched off a larger piece. "This is really good,"
she said.
I looked up at Skye and gave her a thumbs-up. She clasped her hands
together and gave them a shake, a victory sign. "Right on," she said.
Reggie leaned in toward me, her eyes dancing. "Right on?" she
whispered to me, a laugh in her voice.
"Yup," I agreed, happy to have seen her smile. "Right on."
She leaned back and concentrated on her muffin. "So, Mel and Bryan
say you're going to be the star," she said, not looking at me.
That startled me a little. "Me? Why would they say that?"
She glanced up at me with an unreadable expression. "That's what
they say."
"Nah. Jesse, Bryan's roommate, he's the star. He's the one up
front, scoring all the goals. I'm just a defenseman, trying to keep
the other team from scoring. Jesse's the one getting all the action."
Now she smiled, her face softening. "And you don't want all the
action?"
"No, not me," I said. "I'm just a boring guy, and I like it that
way."
"Somehow I don't think you're very boring," she said. She glanced
at my left arm. "How did you get that scar?"
I looked at the white line snaking down my forearm. I was so used
to it I really didn't even see it anymore, so it took me by surprise
when she asked about it. "Uh... it was a... a problem... that
escalated a little..." I hesitated. This was the last thing I
expected to talk about with Reggie.
"Escalated into something that opened up your arm?" She wasn't
going to let it go.
"Well... yeah, I guess it did." I gave her the short, sanitized
version of the story, concluding with the surgery that repaired the
damage. By the time I finished, her eyes were wide.
"And this Molly... she's your girlfriend? The one back home?"
"Oh, no," I said. "Molly's a really good friend. I mean, we used
to go out, but that was a long time ago, and..." I stopped and took
a deep breath. I was feeling a little anxious, and needed to calm
down a little. Talking about some of my more spectacular disasters
did that to me. "My girlfriend's name is Kayla. She's still in high
school... Molly's at Illinois, she graduated with me..."
"Kayla," she murmured. "That's a beautiful name. Tell me about her."
"She's an angel," I blurted out. Oops. Nice going, Porter, I
thought. Call a girl an angel while you're sitting there, talking to
a different girl. Smooth.
Reggie took it all in stride, though, and smiled at me. "She's a
lucky girl," she said. "You were going to tell me about her?"
"Uh... she's my best friend's younger sister," I explained. "She's
back home, still in school. She's really great, stood by me during
everything that's happened..." I wound down, thinking about Luscious.
I suddenly felt a little guilty.
"She sounds wonderful. Do you have a picture of her?"
"Not with me, but I've got some back in my dorm room," I said.
"Will you show them to me sometime?" she asked gently.
"Well... Sure, I guess." Why did she want to see pictures of Kayla?
Or was she just being polite? Here I was, trying to navigate the
labyrinth of relationships again, and me with no map.
She smiled at me. Her eyes were shining. "I know," she said
softly. "It's private, isn't it?"
I nodded.
"I kind of feel the same way," she admitted. "My boyfriend... It's
between him and me, and talking about it when we're apart seems kind
of like..." She paused, searching for the right phrase.
"Like a breach of confidence?" I suggested.
"Yes!" she cried, speaking much louder than she intended. She
looked around, a little embarrassedly, but nobody, least of all Stone
or Skye, was paying any attention to our conversation. "I was going
to say... kind of like... treason, but that's way too strong. A
breach of confidence is about right."
She took a deep breath. "I didn't think anybody else would
understand," she said, almost to herself. She looked at me again. I
could see her coming to a decision.
"Let's make a deal," she said. "You've got somebody waiting for you
back home, and so do I. Still, everybody needs a friend, especially
when they're far from home."
"I agree," I said.
"Okay, here's what I'm thinking. You're a great guy, Sean, and I
trust you. Besides, Mel likes you, and she's very picky about who
she sees as trustworthy. I hope you can find it in your heart to
trust me, too."
I nodded, wondering where this was going.
"Let's stop dancing around each other, and just let it all out,
okay?" She leaned in, serious now. She concentrated on me, holding
my attention. I subconsciously leaned in closer to her, too. "Let's
prove 'em all wrong, Sean. Let's show them there can be a platonic
relationship, good friends who just happen to be boy and girl. No
pressure between us. Okay? You don't have to wonder if you should
try to kiss me, I won't have to worry if I'm leading you on. If
we've got something to say, we'll say it. If you need a convenient
date, I'll be there, and if I need a companion for an evening, I'll
know I can call on you. But you know I'm committed to my boyfriend,
and I know you're committed to... Kayla? Right, Kayla. Okay with
you?"
She leaned back, reasonably satisfied she had explained herself. To
my mind, she had, very well. I liked this girl.
"I think it's great," I said. "I really do. Thank you."
She smiled, and I smiled back. Time to put her to the test.
"So," I said, "tell me about your boyfriend."
Reggie looked a little startled, and then she got a chagrined
expression on her pretty face. "Touche," she said. She picked up
her glass of iced tea, and she smiled at me just before she took a
sip. "Would you believe his name is Elvis? But I love him, anyway."
I sat back. "Elvis? For real?"
"Yep. Elvis Aaron Hravney. Can you believe his parents saddled him
with that name?"
"I'll bet he grew up strong."
She laughed. "He's a hockey player," she said, shaking her head.
"I would believe it," I said. "He any good?"
"At hockey? Yes, pretty good. Not good enough to win a scholarship
or anything, but he's knocked shoulders with the best in our area."
That brought up another question. "You know, I don't even know
where you're from," I said.
"Pennsylvania," she said. "Near Harrisburg."
"Oh. I've never been to Pennsylvania. How come you came to Florida?"
"I hate winters," she said.
"But you're dating a hockey player," I said. "That doesn't make any
sense."
She shrugged. "They play hockey indoors. It doesn't have to be a
cold-weather sport."
"Good point," I admitted.
Reggie and I fell into an easy friendship that evening. In the
blink of an eye three hours passed, and Skye was trying to make eye
contact with me. I was startled to realize it was nearly an hour
past closing.
"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, Skye," I said, jumping up. "We just sort of
lost track of time."
"Oh, don't worry about it, Sean," she said expansively. "I was just
doing my chores back here, grooving on the very cool vibes you two
were sending out."
"Us? Sending out vibes?" I wasn't even sure what vibes were, much
less how we were sending them out.
"Oh, yeah, you and Reggie are an outa-sight couple. It's always
good to be friends first, and you two have got it going on."
That took me aback. "No, Skye, I just met Reggie the other day.
We're just getting to be friends, nothing more."
"Okay, that's cool," she said. She flipped her head, sending a
cascade of long brown hair over her shoulder, and gave me a look that
said she didn't believe a word I said about it.
She unlocked the front door for us, and opened it so we could leave.
"Thanks for everything, Skye," said Reggie.
Skye gave her a big, open smile. "Welcome back anytime, Reggie. We
love company."
It was nearly a mile back to the dorms, but it was a warm, breezy
night, good for taking a walk. Reggie and I casually strolled along,
keeping up our conversation the whole time, comfortable walking side
by side without any pressure or expectations getting in the way. It
was refreshing, and at the same time it was extraordinarily strange.
I walked her to her dorm. It was dark, and there were a few couples
hanging out on the porch and sitting on the grass, enjoying the
evening.
"Good night, Sean. Thanks for the muffin." Reggie was smiling at me.
I held out my hand to shake, and she laughed, her eyes sparkling.
"Come on, pal, give me a hug," she said, and she stepped into me and
put her arms out.
I took her up on her suggestion, and we shared a brief, friendly
hug. We both let go, and she smiled up at me before turning and
going inside.
I told myself it was a brief, friendly hug. A hug between good
friends, who happened to be boy and girl. Platonic.
Then how come I couldn't help but notice the hard bumps of her
breasts as they pressed against my chest?
(Continued in Chapter 9)
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