Team Bonding Ch 01 1

Chest heaving, muscles burning, the cold October wind blowing away any vestiges of warmth as I passed the final mile marker, I could think of nothing else but the matching aches on my shoulders. My new sports bra was the same size and brand that I had always worn, yet inexplicably the fit was completely wrong, and between the pressure and the rubbing, I had already thought about ducking away into the woods, adjusting it, and jumping back in the race. But that wasn't going to happen, and I knew it. In the time it would have taken to adjust the bra, a dozen other girls would have flown by me, a rainbow of jerseys taking the team further and further away from where we wanted to be. I'd have never heard the end of it.

Not that I was going to hear the end of it as things already stood. Although I was maintaining my pace, other girls around me were picking up the pace as we neared the finish. Green. Red. Yellow. A different shade of green. Yellow again. Yellow again. Two shades of blue. The colors of their uniforms were a blur as they raced ahead of me, costing the team for every one that went by me. I finally crossed the line; muddy, sweaty, tired, and utterly disappointed. My third race as a college freshman and things were not working out the way I had planned. A full ride scholarship seemed so perfect when I had signed on the dotted line a few months prior as a high school senior. I felt so proud and so happy taking the photo with my parents, my high school coach, and my boyfriend all grinning from ear to ear, hovering supportively over me as I inked my name on the paper. The reality of the expectations of competing had washed over me in a typhoon of disappointment after my first race of the season. Coach, for his part, was nice about it.

"Shannon, look, you're a freshman. It's your first season of college running. It takes time to adjust," he had said.

"Just run tough for now, and be patient. Let your body adapt. You're running more miles, you're lifting weights for the first time, you've got all this freedom during the day you're not used to..."

"Yeah, sure, just make sure you tell that to the other girls," was my wary reply. I was already taking scholarship money from teammates who had worked their way into the varsity throughout the last few years at college. My high school times were competitive enough that I should have been one of our best runners right away, but I was barely running fast enough to be scoring for us. The last thing I needed was for coach to show me any sort of favoritism. Thankfully, that wasn't going to be an issue. While the other girls got better as the season went on, I stagnated, barely improving. A fact that had not gone unnoticed by the older girls on the team without as much scholarship money.

I sat down on the bus, making sure to select an empty seat near the back. It was a strange reversal from high school when the 'cool kids' sat in the back; now everyone on the team wanted to be as close to the front as possible to talk to coach. I jammed my sports bag under the seat and stretched out as best as I could, rubbing my shoulders where the bra strap was still digging in. I turned my body toward the window and let my mind wander as I felt the engine turn over as the bus driver started to take us home.

"Anyone sitting here?" came a barely familiar voice from the aisle.

I shifted away from the window and glanced up at the source of the words, to find myself staring into the most perfect pair of dark blue eyes I had ever seen. I held the gaze of those eyes a moment longer than I should have, because he repeated himself.

"Is there anyone sitting here? I prefer to sit with people instead of sitting by myself, but I don't want to take anyone's seat. Is it cool if I take this seat?"

"Yeah, no, sure, of course," I stammered. "Sorry, I was in my own head and wasn't paying attention. Nice race today."

Alex Malloy. Nice race was understatement. Alex Malloy was the top runner on the boys' team. He had walked on as a freshman and never looked back, scoring for the varsity as a sophomore, and leading the team for most of the season as a junior. He had taken a year to study abroad but was back for his fifth year and had won the day's race by a comfortable margin. Why was Alex Malloy sitting next to me?

"Thanks, you too!" he replied, a little too automatically.

"Not really," I replied more curtly than I intended. "Actually I sucked."

"I thought you were doing pretty well until that long straightaway at the end."

"Yeah, I got passed by about a dozen girls in the last half mile. I think that was the difference between second and third for the team today." Second and fourth, actually. A point that senior Kelly Marin had been making loudly as I walked past her towards the bus earlier.

"You finished pretty quick, those girls just made the same mistake you did but worse. Too much gas in the tank at the end! Those girls passing you were flying, but you were going pretty quick too. Next race you should try to start pushing yourself earlier. You run like a metronome, tick-tock-tick-tock!" he laid one arm flat and anchored the elbow of his other arm on it, waving it back and forth like a beat counter on a piano. "I don't think I've ever seen you make any big moves mid race before."

My smartass rebuttal died in my throat. He was a dick for being so blunt about it, but he was right. I was so nervous to push myself to my limit at the longer college distance, I had been holding back to make sure I didn't overextend early and crash and burn in the last mile.

"That's a shitty thing to say," was all I could mumble out. "I'm new, cut me some slack."

I noticed, somewhat out of the blue, that I had my back against the glass, one leg tucked under the other, so I could face him better. The glass was cold. He was sitting up straight on the seat, legs stretched out under the empty bench seat in front of us, his head tilted slightly towards me. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders sagged with the relaxed ease of someone who was completely comfortable in his own skin. I abhorred guys like that.

I adored guys like that.

That was why my boyfriend from high school was now my ex-boyfriend. He could never make up his mind about anything. Not that I am or ever was the sort of girl to need a big strong man to make my choices for me, but being with someone who can exert at least a little autonomy is preferred. When I had asked him if he wanted to date me long distance in college, he had tensed up and stammered out "well, do

you

want to?" In that moment he had never been less attractive to me. "Not any more, I don't," was my admittedly someone mean reply. But something about Alex's presumption to tell me how I should or shouldn't race rubbed me the wrong way.

"You know, it's easy for you, you're the best guy on the team. You know you can make a move mid race and take a risk because you'll still win either way."

"I take calculated risks," he replied, in a tone of insufferable self-assurance. "I know what efforts I can and can't handle because I know my limits. And I know my limits because I test them constantly. Maybe if you tested your own limits a bit more often you'd know how to maximize them."

I blinked, and then blinked again, my mouth slightly partied then closing then parting again. In that moment my spirit animal would almost certainly have been a goldfish. His head was already turned away from me towards his lap, where his fingers tapped lightly and quickly at his smartphone as he checked football scores and seemed to effectively forget he was sitting with another person.

I repositioned myself to face away from him, back towards the window. Then, slowly, I turned my head back towards him. Now he was looking at me with a patient, expectant look on his face. There was something else there, too, something I couldn't quite place.

"I wasn't being condescending, you know," he said in what sounded ever so faintly like an apology. "I was just suggesting that maybe you would be more confident when you race if you had more practice at pushing yourself. I'm not saying you don't try or that you don't race hard. What I

am

saying is that you could go even harder with the right type of mindset. That mindset can be trained."

When a cute boy is genuinely kind -- not nice, mind you, but kind -- and he smiles at you, there is no known defense. I melted a little. Just a little. I was on the inexperienced side, but I was no virgin, and I knew how a sweet smile may hide colder darker things beneath the veneer. I favored him with a little smile of my own.

"And you can teach me this fabulous zen for the low low price of ten easy payments of $29.99 for your guidance, right?" I teased. "Or do you send me off to find Yoda and learn how to feel the Force around me?"

"Depend it does, on if ready you are" he said, parroting the voice of the little green muppet. He grinned, I laughed, he grinned a little wider. What was going on? I had barely ever spoken to Alex before, but he was so easy to talk to.

He seemed to hesitate, and then said, "I have to go talk to coach about the race today, then I think I'm gonna go take a nap in one of the empty seats. Today really took it out of me. I'll catch you around." And without another word, he gathered up his bag and walked to the front of the bus to talk to coach. I didn't dare to peek around the corner of the bus seat as he walked away, knowing the older girls up front would wonder why I had been talking to him. My prudence turned out to be for naught. Kelly Marin, the senior who had made the snarky comment as I walked by earlier, was waiting for me when I got off the bus, two of her friends waiting in the distance by her car.

"What were you talking about to Alex on the bus?"

Direct and to the point. Well, at least she had

some

redeeming qualities beyond her rockstar body.

"I'm almost positive that's none of your business"

Just because she was direct with me didn't mean I had to be direct with her.

"Besides, we just talked about the race today. He gave me some advice," I added. No sense in poking the bear, as it were.

"You're right, it's not my business. And I'm asking anyway. Is that all you talked about?"

I may have been disappointed in myself and in my season up to that point, but was still in possession of a perfectly functioning spine, and I was not about to be bossed around, least of all by someone who was supposed to be on my team.

"Why do you care? Did you used to date him or something?"

"Not that I think it's any of

your

business, but no, we didn't date. And that's all you need to know about him other than the fact that you shouldn't get too close to him."

She stepped a few inches closer to me. She was wearing perfume. Who the hell wears perfume to a cross-country race? Some of it had surely worn off over the course of the day but I could still smell her.

"He's a good runner. Maybe he has some advice to help you pull your head out of your ass and start racing like someone sucking up a full scholarship from the team. But beyond that, stay away from him. And I'm not telling you again."

She turned around and walked away towards her car, the two other girls looking nervous and quiet. She got in and drove away, leaving me, I suddenly realized, alone in the parking lot. The girls who lived on campus had already started walking back to the dorm and the girls who lived off campus had all driven away. I huffed in exasperation, my breath fogging slightly in the chilly October air. It had been a cold autumn already and it was only going to get colder. Sluggishly, I began the slow trek back to my dorm. From my pocket, I heard the distinct

ping

of my cellphone.

I am not taking my gloves off to answer that

I thought to myself. I kept walking.

Ping!

The sound of another text.

Ping!

And a third. With a grimace, I ripped off a glove, fumbled at my phone's passcode, and checked my messages. They were from a number not in my phone.

Come have dinner with me.

721 Cheshire Court, downtown.

I got your cell number from coach. I told him I wanted to talk to you about your race. I hope that's okay.

Alex. It had to be Alex, right? I began typing my response. Before I could finish a fourth text popped onto my screen.

If you can find a way down here I can drive you home.

Why did he want to have dinner with me? Were we going to continue our conversation from the bus? Why do that over dinner when we could just as easily talk at practice on Monday? I glanced at my watch.

7:48 PM. Damnit I'll have to shower, change, get down there, I won't get to eat until close to 9, probably some nasty bachelor boy garbage.

Not that I would mind a little deviation from my normally scrupulous diet.

Okay,

I texted back,

I have to shower and change first. I'll be there soon.

With a playful grin I added

Formal attire required or do you care if I show up in jeans and a hoody?

and hit 'send.'

I was almost back to the dorm when I received his reply.

Just don't wear anything complicated.

My heart skipped a beat, in the best possible way. So, this was going to be

that

kind of dinner, eh? I was never one to sleep around. In fact, the only boy I had ever had sex with was my high school boyfriend. But that had opened the Pandora's box of

my

little box, and I had spent a fair amount of nights and showers getting to know my body since coming to college. I'd been looking forward to meeting a hot guy to sleep with but hadn't found any who sounded like their technique was likely to be more advanced than what they'd picked up from whatever the free porn streaming site du jour happened to be. I was horny, but I wasn't desperate.

As soon as I was back in the dorm I was shuffling along in my slippers and robe down the hall to the shower. It was all I could do not to masturbate in the shower as the hot soapy water ran down my body. The running and lifting had really helped to melt the baby fat left from high school and I loved the sensation of my own hands running up and down my smooth toned flesh. My butt had gotten nice and round from all the heavy lifting, and my boobs hadn't shrunken up too much. They were a decent size for a runner, though I was smack in the middle between a B and a C cup and could never quite find a bra that fit right, at least not without ditching the right band size. I was careful not to get my hair wet. It was long and a chestnut and it was an absolute pain in the ass to dry because of the volume. I didn't have time for that.

Resisting the urge to stay in the warm sudsy environment and give myself a little early release, I turned off the water, dried quickly and shuffled back to my room. I put on a dash of perfume, one of my lighter scents, and then set about quickly determining what to wear. I selected one of my favorite pairs of panties and a matching bra. They were a hot pink pair of tanga style panties, all lace and nearly transparent, with black trim. The bra was a matching pink, equally lacy with floral patterns done in black. I loved the way the tangas made my butt look, and the bra was just enough pushup to give me a little boost of confidence without feeling like I was "cheating."

I threw on a nice pair of jeans and a snug sweater, a matching scarf and a jacket against the cold, and slipped into a pair of comfortable flats. I considered stiletto heels, but no sense in making my anticipation

too

obvious. I braced myself against the chill air and headed over to the bus station. Catching a ride downtown, I hopped off at the appropriate stop, and checked my phone for the best way to get to Cheshire Court. Fortunately it was only a few short blocks and I was standing in front of a small, nondescript double with a small porch. Glancing at the numbers on the doors on either side, I turned left and rang the doorbell. A moment later, I heard the sound of footsteps coming down stairs and the door swung open. He stood there, smiling warmly, in a pair of slim dark jeans and plain red sweater, stepping back and ushering me inside.

"Come on up!" he called over his shoulder by way of greeting, already stepping quickly up the stairs on his long lanky legs. "It's way too cold for October, I've got the heat cranking up here."

Stepping through the door at the top of the stairs, I slipped off my flats, and took a look around. What stood out to me right away was how understated the apartment was, which was duly impressive given that it was a college boy's place of residence. Minimal clutter surrounded a large flat screen on the near left corner. A large couch and love seat formed an 'L' shape starting at the wall adjacent to the TV and then coming out parallel. A small corridor opened up to what looked like a bathroom on the right, a bedroom on the left, a smaller bedroom between that and the kitchen. The kitchen bookended the apartment. I followed him in and felt immediately very cozy.

"Not the pig sty I was expecting for a college boy who just got back from abroad" I teased as I sat down at the small table in the kitchen. "Do you have a maid who cleans it for you?"

"Yeah" he smirked back as he walked over to the stove, lifting the lid on a pot gently, an aromatic scent wafting up towards me. "And a chef to cook meals for all the girls I bring over."

"Oh, so you have a lot of girls over here, do you? Enough to merit a chef?" I countered, playing along. My attention was only half on the conversation. Whatever he was cooking was spicy and warm and smelled delicious, and I was ready to eat.

He pulled a pair of small bowls from the cupboard and filled them with whatever was in the pot. It looked like a red soup with ground beef, with a savory sweet scent that multiplied in power as he filled the bowls. Cutting up some fresh looking bread and setting it down on a plate in the center of the table, Alex set one bowl in front of me and the other in front of himself.

I smiled with a timidity that I was surprised to realize was genuine.

Why am I feeling like this? I barely know this guy.

Shaking it off, I took a piece of the bread, dipped into the soup, and took a bite. My eyes rolled to the back of my head more than I wanted, and I let out a long satisfied sigh as the warmth crept deep down inside of me. Somehow I was so caught up in the taste of the soup that I didn't realize he had already gotten up and opened a bottle of wine.

Oh, come ON.

This was a little over the top. At least that's what I thought until I took a sip. It was a dry red wine, which was about all my untrained palate could pick up with any certainty, but it made the soup taste even better, if that had been possible.

"You're not worried you're going to get in trouble for serving alcohol to a poor little freshman?" I asked feigning a pout lip.

"Nope. I'd tell the cops you poured yourself a glass while I wasn't looking and I had no part in it."

"Ugh!" I gasped with over-acted indignation, "is chivalry so dead?" I put the back of my hand to my forehead. "Wherever have all the good men gone?"

"Little young to be worrying about that, aren't you?"

"Little old to be serving wine to freshmen girls by themselves in your apartment, aren't

you

?" I retorted. I was hoping I would strike a nerve and get him off balance, shake that irritating yet irresistibly smooth smile off of his face, but he returned my verbal volley with ease.

"Little ungracious to drink my wine before I formally offer it, aren't you?"

I couldn't formulate a comeback in time, but was saved when he took his glass up and raised it.