Playing with Fire - A Sports Romance by Lydia De Luca

turns and leaves me there. My body aches for his touch while my mind tells me I did the right thing. It's for the best. It's the only way to keep him safe.

    * * *
    “ W hat are you doing here ?” Vivian asks as she walks across the tile floor of my uncle's plush living room and sits down on the soft, cream-colored leather chair across from me.
    I look up from my spot where I’m curled up on the sofa with a thick blanket wrapped tight around me. I give my best attempt at a smile, but judging by the look on Vivian’s face, I’m sure I haven’t succeeded.
    “I thought I’d come home for the weekend,” I tell her. I realize after I say it that my lousy attempt at a smile came off better than my explanation. Vivian knows better.
    Even though I’ve lived here in Marco’s house since before my teenage years, I’ve never felt like this was home. I grew up in my grandmother’s house and chose to stay there after my mother died. It was one of the only times Marco listened to my wishes for my life. But then again, he wasn’t one to cross his mother. I’ve felt homeless since I was twelve, when my grandmother passed and I was forced to come live with Marco. Not homeless, as in living on the streets. But homeless, without a place I can call home, where I can be myself, do what I want, and enjoy the simple things in life.
    The only place I’ve felt came close to home makes me ill to think about. That night I spent with Corey in my hotel room, when I fell asleep on his chest and woke up in his arms: that felt like home.
    “Something happen with Mitch?” Vivian asks.
    I put my head back down on the throw pillow and stare at the huge black television screen hanging on the wall. “Nothing happened with Mitch. There’s nothing to happen, Viv. He’s just a friend.”
    “Mmm, sure.” Vivian stands up and comes to my side, looking down at me like I’m as sick as I feel inside. “You look heartbroken, Frankie. You break up with him?”
    “For crying out loud!” I sit up and pull my legs up under me, still wrapped up tight in my blanket. “For the last time, Mitch and I are only friends. We’ve never been more than that, and we never will be.”
    “You two looked like a lot more than friends the other night. Shit, if I had a friend like that, I wouldn’t need a boyfriend. God, he’s sexy.”
    “Then why don’t you go out with him?” I cringe. That would be a bad idea. The men Vivian has been with in the past don’t fare well. She’s like her father; she has an overbearing presence and consumes the energy of anyone she’s with. Men wither under her. And the strong ones, like Mitch, fare the worst.
    “I don't think you mean that,” Vivian says as she crosses her arms over her chest.
    Of course I don't. Vivian gets whatever she wants, whenever she wants. But she’s never taken what’s mine. And if she went after Mitch, we both know that would be the end of my friendship with him. She’d never do that to me.
    Instead of answering, I wrap my arms around my legs and tuck my chin between my knees. Vivian is right. I feel heartbroken. Ever since Corey left my office down in Arizona earlier this week, I’ve felt like I might break. It’s worse when I see him. Something about him has changed. He’s stopped flirting with every woman he comes in contact with. Sure, he talks to them. And his charm is always there. The women flirt back relentlessly. Everything about him is more subdued, except for his drive in practice.
    I've been down to the field to watch the games more this week than since I first arrived. But really, I'm fooling myself if I believe that. I've been down to the field to watch Corey in practice. I can't help it. I haven't talked to him since he left my office. The first day I went to watch was to see if his animosity had returned. From what I can see, it hasn't. From what I can see, he’s solely focused on his work. Even the banter he’s always had with Cromwell and Rodriguez is subdued.
    I don't