We Super Shouldn't: Complete Enemies to Lovers Romance Series Collection

by Jamie Knight

  Now I heard a holler from a teenage Flags fan, clearly by his team jersey. He interrupted my moment of thought with…

  “Hey asswipe, you ain’t gonna win diddly squat against us Wednesday. Ya never do. And you especially won’t against us. So, ya better keep smokin’ that blunt. You’re finished, Ward. Marvin Ward is a has-been, washed up player, you get it?”

  I nodded and laughed. My skin was thick, and even I had to admit he could be speaking the fucking truth. I sucked on the cigar as hard as I could, the same one I was determined to enjoy and which I had tightly rolled so that it would last.

  The breeze smelled like the hot dog vendors that always strolled up and down the Charles. I could smell a mix of candied chestnuts too. I figured there must be a vendor around the corner and the wind was carrying the steam.

  And then I had flashback in my mind to my old girlfriend, Olivia Phillips. She used to always say I smelled like cologne and man steam.

  I chuckled to myself. I hadn’t spoken to her in years. It seemed now like a lifetime ago. But I still thought of her all the fucking time.

  Who wouldn’t? She was fucking gorgeous, and great in the sack, too. Not to mention, she was actually good company.

  I never should have let her get away. We had both agreed we had to go our separate ways due to our different career goals and life plans, and mainly due to the fact that she told me we should break up because she still had two years of high school left when it was time for me to start playing college ball.

  But, damn, that was dumb of me back then, to not have fought for her. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. Olivia had always been very stubborn – which was one of the things I had loved about her – so I doubt she would have listened had I said we shouldn’t break up.

  But at least I could have tried, so that I wouldn’t have these second thoughts and doubts and regrets for the rest of my fucking life, like I do now.

  Chapter 9

  Marvin

  The cool breeze and the skyline, old memories and new worries, kept me composed on this Monday before the big game. Although I refused to let the awful comments from that kid in my head get to me, I didn’t really have a way out.

  Things were indeed bleak.

  He was right, as much as I hated to admit it.

  Coach Kramer was a douche, in my opinion. He had only taken over in late August, as it was rumored that Coach Hunter had the beginning stages of dementia. The press was told he took another offer at some faraway college, but as with most things in the league, it was all a bunch of propaganda, if not straight up bullshit.

  Kramer seemed to be in this for the love of money, whereas Hunter had been in it for love of the game. As for me, well, sure I loved the money, but I also loved the game, always had.

  It wasn’t that I had lost the love of the game. But I was a winning player. Football was all I knew and here I was facing a fucking mid-life crisis at age twenty-eight.

  For the first time in ten years, I was feeling fractured. That was if I excluded the craziness that is Candy – I was always feeling fractured when it came to dealing with her, but never when it came to football.

  Right then, speaking of the devil, as if it couldn’t get any worse, I looked down at my phone and there was a text from Candy.

  It read:

  “Marvin, I need to speak to you about Kylie. I received a call from her teacher on Friday night. Can you call me?”

  No was the obvious answer, but for shit’s sake, why was it always something? And why was I just hearing about this now? I dampened the blunt and rode the elevator to my penthouse suite.

  Once inside, I reluctantly dialed the number of the most insane woman I had ever known, who, unfortunately for me, was Kylie’s mother.

  “Oh good, you got my text,” she said, as soon as she answered.

  It was always hit or miss, whether I could get a hold of her, so I was glad she answered even though it was annoying to have to talk to her right now.

  “Yeah, Candy, it’s me. Can this wait? I am on the road.”

  “It was a call from her teacher,” her high-pitched voice screeched back at me. “It was serious.”

  “Okay, I am sure a call from her teacher is serious, but how serious could it be? The girl is six. Did she say what the issue was?” I asked her.

  “No, I’m not sure. I haven’t seen her. Your ho-bag nanny that you’re probably screwing, Sasha, won’t let me speak to Kylie. I am sure you are getting it on with the nanny, actually, or else why would she be so loyal to your sorry, has-been self?”

  “Listen, Candy, leave the nanny out of this. I’m not screwing her, but that’s none of your Goddamned business. And for your information, my sorry, has-been self pays you a lot of child support and other money to have a comfortable living, or else blow it on drugs, who knows—”

  “This is about our daughter.”

  “I realize that. You’re dame right it is, and that’s exactly what I’ve been saying, when I say not to drag Sasha or anyone else into this. Are you on something? How many pills did you take today for your ‘back’ problem?”

  “Oh, fuck you, Marvin.”

  “That’s it. The teacher called you. You deal with it. Aren’t you her mother or did you snort that up your nose too, like everything else of value in your life? Hello? Hello?”

  She had hung up on me. I hated her, but I hated myself more on the days I trashed her that way.

  Yes, it was true that she was a pill popper, along with an abuser of many other kinds of drugs, which was one of the main reasons I had been awarded custody of Kylie, but I knew it wasn’t right when I acted like an asshole to her. Just like it hadn’t been alright when my dad had done it to my mom – for less reason – back when I was young.

  Candy was a heavy drug user and a groupie who just happened to meet me at a club. I was drunk and let my wrong head take charge. If I was being honest, I had to admit it was always in charge – my dad’s fault. I get it from the old man.

  Apparently, at least according to the guys on the team, if you wore a jersey, Candy was your biggest fan, and would do anything for you. She loved hanging out with football players, but she had quite a reputation.

  That didn’t bother me in the least. She was a piece of ass and it suited me fine.

  Those days I was just trying to run away from my memories of Olivia. I was doing that by drinking too much and half the time I didn’t even realize what bad decisions I was making when I was drunk.

  I hadn’t yet learned that trying to run away from my memories of her didn’t work— they would always come back to haunt me, and some of the decisions I made while trying to do it just made things even worse.

  Thinking of Olivia was like some drug I just couldn’t get enough of. So, I really didn’t have room to judge anyone when it came to Candy.

  Back then, the guys warned me about Candy.

  Some even said, “She’ll prick holes in the condom, homie.”

  But I ignored any sage advice or otherwise I received and traded it for a night of so-so dick sucking and an easy lay. I could barely remember it, since I was sloppy drunk after a night of trying to drink away my pain. So, again, I wasn’t one to talk, about Candy or anyone else.

  Nine months later, Candy showed up, knocked up, and almost to term. After I told her I wanted a paternity test, since I hadn’t heard from her in nine months and wanted to make sure the child was mine before bonding with it, as I’d heard horror stories in that regard from my buddies, she left the baby, Kylie, at the stadium with a note for me.

  It was disgusting. How could a mother do that? I sure knew how to pick them!

  But I assumed responsibility, good or bad; I did step up. I followed through with that paternity test to make sure the kid was mine. She was. So, I took care of her to the very best of my ability.

  But when Kylie was one year old, Candy came strolling back into our lives, claiming she was clean. I never wanted her as a serious part of my life. Not before Kylie was born and
most definitely not after.

  But now I had to deal with all the drama. Because of one stupid night. Since by then I was quite attached to the cute and giggly one year old who was my daughter.

  The judge finally ruled that because Candy was Kylie’s mom, I had a duty to help her get clean.

  I remember thinking What kind of horse shit is that? She probably sucked his cock, too.

  That’s the old man’s stubborn streak. Gets me in trouble every time.

  But I did as I was told. I enrolled her in a program to overcome her drug addiction. It was pricey, but supposedly one of the best.

  After that, she was ordered to get a job and show that she meant well by Kylie, before she would be granted visitation rights.

  She did that, but it was doubtful that she was still clean, because she was always coming and going in and out of Kylie’s life, depending on her current and always fluctuating moods. And now she wanted Kylie back, six years later.

  She had just filed a petition to revisit custody, seeking permanent primary custody of Kylie, which is ridiculous, considering how infrequently she had seen her and the fact that Kylie was almost always in my custody and care.

  I couldn’t believe she was fighting me for full custody after all this time, when I knew she just wanted the fucking money. Probably needed her next fix.

  Looking at the call log on my phone made me sick to my stomach. There was no way I was letting that woman have Kylie.

  I decided to call it a night and to go to bed in my suite. This was not the time for baby mama drama. I had a game to win. That is what I did well and that was about the extent of my focus.

  I pulled a picture of Kylie out of my wallet and kissed it. It was too late to call her, and I had already called earlier today, anyway.

  “I’ll see you soon, baby girl.”

  I put the picture back in my wallet and grabbed the remote. I took another hit off my blunt and decided it was time for some relaxation time, some me time. Since I wasn’t in a relationship, this was about as good as it got for me.

  As usual, all I could fucking think about was my first girlfriend, Olivia.

  It was not rare that she was coming back to me now during a fantasy. Like I said, it seemed she was all I could ever think about. I slid my hand up and down my cock and thought of the first time we did it at my parents’ house.

  She was everything. I jerked harder, as I was picturing her tight ass and her big tits. I slid my hand up and down my lubed, hard cock and worked it faster and faster while I thought about Olivia.

  I loved how her pussy looked when I spread her legs apart so that I could get in there nice and tight. I remembered going slowly, so as not to hurt her, and then faster once she said she could handle it and that she liked it.

  Nah, she more than liked it. I made her fucking purr. She rode my dick like a champ, even though it was her very first time. I loved how she told me how much she loved it while she talked dirty to me.

  I almost couldn’t stop myself from coming right away as I made love to her up against that kitchen table. It was overwhelming, to smell her fresh jasmine-like shampoo and feel her soft skin while I tasted her thick lips.

  But I held off because I wanted to last a bit longer. I loved feeling her cum on my cock while I played with her nipple and her clit. I liked telling her what to do and spanking her ass a little bit when she hesitated in the slightest.

  Now, just thinking about how I came in her tight, wet pussy made me cum. As usual, Olivia was all I could think about while I jerked off.

  When I was finished, though, I was left with an empty feeling. Nothing was filling this void, not even the fantasy of Olivia, nothing. Probably because I knew it wasn’t a reality and probably never could be.

  Something needed to change. The chasm between good and bad in my life was quickly becoming an earth sized crater.

  My mother of my only child was a hopeless drug addict and that child was the product of a one night stand. I hadn’t been able to form any kind of meaningful relationship after Olivia and I broke up.

  And that didn’t bode well for any kind of real future between Olivia and myself ever again, even if I wanted one, which I didn’t. Or at least, I didn’t think I did but perhaps I just told myself that because I didn’t think it was possible. I was just passing the time and trying to make things work, even though my heart was with Olivia.

  I had long ago resigned myself to trying to settle for loneliness. There was no way anything could compare to what I had had with Olivia.

  My nanny had come onto me at least three times but I couldn’t bring myself to be with her. Sure, she was hot, but always a mess, and clearly a gold digger.

  Plus, I couldn’t bring myself to get with the nanny when I wasn’t into her and that would cause a host of problems in my personal life, not to mention Kylie’s. I didn’t want to be a jerk, like my dad – which was the reason my mother left.

  He was the biggest, dirtiest son of a sailor I’d ever met. Yes, he was my dad, so I’d learned to give him at least a modicum of respect, but as I grew up, I knew he was the reason our family had fucking fallen apart.

  Not on less than three occasions I had found him doing the cleaning lady and one time, my sister’s best friend who was barely even out of high school. I never wanted to be him but after Olivia, I started to wonder how I could find love if it wasn’t with her. She was everything to me.

  I was in love with her and at the time, understandably, I thought I had a whole world out there to see. I know that she did, too.

  We were young and didn’t want to be tied down early like our parents, because that hadn’t worked out well for them.

  I wished I could have not made decisions based on my father, the less than honorable David Ward. If I had buried him, at least metaphorically, along with my mother, maybe there would have been a chance.

  But I had let my desire to not live his life make it impossible to live my own. I had quite clearly missed my chance, and I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive myself. I should have held on tight to Olivia and never let her go.

  I’d had enough of self-analyzation. I found another channel that was playing some old movie and lowered the volume.

  I could still hear Olivia from my earlier fantasy. But the sexy talk had turned to declarations of love.

  So now all I could hear was, “I love you, Marvin. I love you. I love you.”

  And with that, I closed my eyes and tried not to think of Olivia, although that was always impossible.

  The game… among other things… namely, Olivia, were on my mind as I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Olivia

  Monday came and went and there was no word from Candy. Kylie had begun to withdraw from even her best protector, Sookie.

  By Tuesday, when I asked Kylie what was wrong, she said that her mother hated her. It broke my heart and that was the final straw. I decided that if I was to do my job, I had to set my pride and personal feelings to the side.

  But it wasn’t an easy decision. Meeting Kylie and realizing that she was the daughter of someone I loved so much, whether it was back in high school or not, brought back so many feelings.

  Still, I had to do it.

  During the cookies and milk break, I stepped out of my classroom and asked a paraprofessional who often acted as a student aide, to watch my class for a moment. She said she would, and I found my way to the student lounge, which often smelled like smoke or stale cigarettes.

  It wasn’t the most pleasant place. It was a law, of course, that there be no smoking on the campus, but tell the tenured teachers that. I gulped and poured at the scratchy, icky feeling in my throat, and grabbed a sprite from the soda machine. As I sipped, I gathered enough nerve to dial Marvin.

  “Hello. Hi, Marvin, um, I’m calling about Kylie. It’s Olivia, Kylie’s teacher. Um, Olivia Phillips.”

  “I’m sorry; is this some sort of joke?” he demanded, his tone sounding genuinely confused. “Who is this?�
�

  “Marvin, it’s Olivia. Your best friend’s sister. Your high school girlfriend. That Olivia. Yes, I know this is hard to believe – it took a while for it to sink in for me, too – but Kylie is my student. Let’s please just keep this professional, as she is my only concern. I hope you are well, but I’m calling about my student, your daughter.”

  I found a chair and fell into it. I felt ready to keep explaining that this call really was professional, not personal. Then I realized he hadn’t spoken.

  “Hello? Marvin? Marvin, are you there?”

  He wasn’t. The line was dead.

  That fucking asshole. Just as I let the curse words fly, Principal Sellers walked by.

  “Olivia! I know it’s the break room but let’s keep it professional, okay?”

  “Yeah, for sure, just as soon as Mr. Gale stops smoking us out and giving us all lung cancer.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes. Professional. You got it. That’s me.”

  I was so miffed that Marvin had hung up on me that I couldn’t care less about Principal Sellers. She really had no right to be mad at me for anything when a fellow teacher continually broke the rules and smoked in the break room.

  That kind of thing was supposed to have gone out of vogue for acceptable practices decades ago, yet for some reason Mr. Gale kept getting away with it, and I wasn’t allowed to curse on the phone?

  Anyway, she loved me. She’d get over my little outburst.

  I dialed him back.

  “Marvin! I’m sorry but I do not appreciate you hanging up on your daughter’s teacher. Can we start again, please?”

  “I think the time for that passed quite a while ago.”

  Something in his voice sounded bitter.

  “Right. Listen, high school is over. Again, I hope you are well, that football is… well, is going well, and that life is grand. But for real, seriously, I did not initially know that Kylie was your daughter. Now that I do, I still want to treat her with the best care and teaching that I can give. So that includes alerting you if I see there is an issue. Did your wife not explain to you that I had called with concerns?”