Forgetting the Rules: A Second-Chance-Romance Sports Standalone

by Mariah Dietz

  “Olivia, you want to come with and get the drinks?” Anna asks.

  I cut my gaze to my sister, begging and demanding her to not leave me here alone, but she evades my stare. Olivia looks at me, eyebrows drawn with the silent question about whether I’m comfortable with her leaving.

  “Please?” I don’t know if my dad’s directing the question to Olivia or me, but Olivia nods in response.

  “Sure. I’ll just be in the kitchen.” I have no doubt her assurance is directed at me.

  Their footsteps fade into the kitchen as Dad turns to face me. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and an old hunter green sweater that zips down partway. He’s owned the shirt for years, one of the many articles of clothing that lived in his closet here, waiting for one of his handful of visits each year. Anna and I used to tease him about leaving it unzipped so far because he always wore an old T-shirt beneath it that would have logos and pictures across the front that were always visible. Today, his shirt is solid white, and it’s zipped halfway. “I found out who started the website,” he tells me, snapping me out of years past.

  I blink several times, completely caught off guard. I expected questions, condemnation, advice about how my decisions stand to impact my future as well as others.

  “You did?”

  He nods. “I want to talk to you about whether you want to press charges.”

  In all of my thoughts and considerations about the site and wondering who it might be, revenge hasn’t been high in my list, much less legal revenge. “I don’t think that’s my decision to make alone,” I tell him.

  He pulls in a short breath. “I can make my recommendations, or you’re welcome to speak with my lawyer,” he says, reaching for his phone to get the contact information.

  “Aren’t you mad at me?”

  His attention jumps from his phone to me. “What?”

  “Aren’t you mad at me for being stupid and completely falling off of the map on Thursday?”

  “I was concerned,” he says. “When Anna called me yesterday and told me no one knew where you were, I was alarmed…” He clears his throat. “But you’ve always taken care of yourself, and I know you’re clever and resilient and—”

  “Don’t you want to know where I went and what events happened that led me to leave?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “I push, and I push, and all you do is back up further and further. Why don’t you care enough to get mad and upset?”

  “What would that do?” His voice rises. “If I tell you the sky is blue, you’re going to tell me it’s light blue, and if I tell you you’re too smart to have a single major, you’ll drop out of school. I have been patiently waiting, trying to honor your space and time, waiting for you to forgive me, and I’m starting to wonder if you ever will. I wish I could make her come back. I wish I could trade places so you could have your mother, but I can’t. I can’t do any of that, but I can shoulder your anger, and if that’s what you need me to do, I will continue doing that.”

  I shake my head, tears returning with a vengeance. “I don’t want you dead.” I close my eyes, an entirely new brand of pain piercing my throat. “God, why would you think that? Why would you say that?”

  He pulls his head back like my emotions and anger are misplaced and unjust. “You’ve hated me since your mom got sick.”

  “I’ve been mad at you since you let her go. It’s taken me four years and a really shitty week to realize I’m always waiting for someone I care about to tell me I’m not worth the effort and leave.”

  He stares at me, but I can’t read his expression through the blur of my tears. “Rose.” His voice is broken. He reaches a hand up, resting it in his salt and pepper hair as he shakes his head. “What happened between your mother and me…” He shakes his head once more. “It will always be my greatest regret. Time and distance and living two separate lives took a significant toll on us and our marriage, one we worked to fight for years. But the more we fought it, the harder it got. I loved your mother, and she loved me. We were a great team and best friends, but we hadn’t been in love in many years. I didn’t want to get divorced. I was terrified about what that would do for insurance and her treatments, but after all that she did to take care of you girls and me … I felt it was the least I could do not to fight it.”

  “I wanted you to fight it. I wanted you to fight me. I wanted you to be mad every time I got in trouble.”

  Dad wraps his arms around me, engulfing me. He holds me too tight for the first time in more than a decade, and for the first time in as much time, I don’t fight him.

  I don’t lie to myself and pretend this will change everything, but I also stop myself from setting up walls and expectations and leaving what Arlo taught me the football team calls a lane or hole, which in this case allows hope and change.

  It’s the most relaxed brunch. It’s also the most uncomfortable brunch as walls fall, and stories and jokes are shared that span from our childhood to recent days.

  Ian

  I feel like I got hit by a tanker. My back is sore, my legs are sore, even my damn fingers are sore as Rose pulls up beside me at her apartment.

  I hit the pavement and move toward her, forgetting about the website and the rules, and my own discomfort as a smile claims her face and she collides with my chest seconds before her lips crash against mine. When I start to pull away so we can go inside, she curls her fingers into the top of my sweatshirt and tries to hold me in place as her lips press more firmly against mine. It's all the encouragement I need to slide my tongue across the seam of her lips. She groans softly, her fingers tightening as she tips her head, meeting my demand with a delicious and eager swipe of her tongue that borders on desperate. I kiss her back with a level of fierceness and intent that slays every question and doubt until she’s breathless and my cock is straining against my jeans.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she says.

  I kiss her forehead. “How was brunch?”

  “Surprisingly good. Also… a bit enlightening.”

  “Really?”

  Rose nods. “Let’s go inside. I’ll tell you about it.” She unlocks her apartment and slowly opens the door before flipping on the lights. We move into the living room, where we remain standing. I can sense her nervousness as she licks her lips and avoids making eye contact with me for several seconds.

  “My rules were inspired by my ex and by the loss of my mom, but I don’t think I realized until this week and everything that transpired how much my parents’ divorce played a part in my rules. When my dad signed the divorce papers, I was so angry with him—I’ve been so angry with him, and I’m still not sure if I’m mad that she got sick or because she died or because I really wanted to believe in happily ever afters and those stupid papers destroyed that for me.

  “I know there are no guarantees or certainties, but I want to make a new rule—a rule for us,” she says, as I find that place on her hip that feels like it was made for my hand. “I want us to promise to fight for each other. No matter how hard it gets or how messy it gets, we fight to be together.”

  “We fight to stay together,” I tell her, tugging her toward me as I nod. “I am so fucking in love with you. I have no idea what kind of craziness is going to come our way, but I know I love you and will always fight to be with you.”

  Her lips seize the rest of my words, all sense of restraint gone as she presses her chest to mine, fingers tangling in my hair.

  “Is Olivia or Arlo going to be here soon?” I ask.

  Rose shakes her head. “They went out. Won’t be home until late.”

  I claim her lips. We fumble and stumble our way to her bedroom, discarding our clothes along the way.

  I run my thumbs over her bare nipples, and when she gasps, I kiss her even harder, loving the way she rises to the challenge with a hard swipe of her tongue and a gentle nip of her teeth. She runs her hand down my chest and follows my hips before grabbing my cock. “Feel how hard I am for you?” I ask her.
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  She kisses me again, her hand rubbing over my shaft. Her touch feels so good, my hips flex and thrust into her fist.

  I moan into her lips and coax her legs apart with my hand, finding her wet and warm as I slide my fingers over her entrance and circle her clit. “I fell in love with you the second I saw you. It was like I went from not caring to caring with one single glance.”

  She presses against my hand, another soft groan chasing my admission. “I love you,” she says, lifting her chin a little higher, looking me squarely in the eye. “I am so in love with you.”

  I press my fingers into her and reach for a condom. “I am so fucking lucky.”

  Rose takes the condom from me and steps back, so I’m no longer inside her. She sinks down to her knees and cups my balls in her palm. I hiss, already too far gone for her to be touching me like this, and then her hot little mouth goes over my tip, and I nearly lose it.

  “Slow down,” I tell her.

  With my cock still in her mouth, she meets my eyes, and I see the humor and challenge in those gorgeous green depths.

  “I want to be inside you,” I tell her.

  She lowers her mouth on my cock, rubbing my balls again. I drop my head back and release a long groan, fighting against my desire to fuck her mouth. She releases me, running her tongue up my shaft, and it feels so damn good I forget my own fucking name, all I know is she’s mine. Her lips seal around my cock again, and she bobs her head up and down until I hit the back of her throat, and before she can test my strength any further, I pull out of her mouth, hook my hands under her arms, and drop her back onto the white comforter. I grab the condom from the floor, roll it over my length, and crawl over her.

  “Tell me again,” I say, positioning myself between her legs.

  “I love you,” she says. “I love you so much.”

  I sink into her in one hard thrust, and she moans, her eyes rolling back. I lean down and kiss her before moving, searching for every groan and moan and gasp like my life depends on it. And when I find that spot that has her thighs trembling and her breaths coming as hard pants, I memorize it as she spirals, and then I lose myself to her entirely.

  29

  Rose

  “This feels really awkward,” I whisper to Olivia as we climb out of my car, the same angry words that had marked the team and cheerleaders now marking our bodies and shirts.

  Olivia grins. “We own awkward.”

  I laugh. “Is that a good thing?”

  She laughs as she reaches for her phone. “I need to get a picture, so I never forget the day I wrote slut on my forehead.” She stops and leans close to me. “Say cheese!”

  ‘Say cheese!’

  The words paint a memory from that night at the party a few weeks ago when my world changed forever. I had found Bobby and was walking outside with him when someone yelled those words at me, and I’d paused mid-step and smiled at the familiar face. That’s why the picture was so familiar.

  “What’s wrong?” Olivia asks.

  “I know who sent those pictures of me to the site.”

  “What?”

  I nod. “I have to go.”

  “I’m coming with you!”

  We get into the car, and my thoughts circle that night, trying to recall everything and how it all happened. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Should I call someone?”

  I shake my head. “The night of that party, I knew nearly no one. That’s how I know. I remember stopping to smile and trying to make light of the situation and buy a few minutes because I was pissed off about the situation, and I was mad at Ian.”

  “Do you think it was on purpose?”

  “I don’t know how it couldn’t have been.”

  I pull into the driveway and turn off my car, not entirely certain of what I’m about to say or do. Betrayal burns in my chest as I get out of the car and ring the doorbell with five hard, angry jabs.

  “Wow. Look at you,” Chantay says.

  “You helped?”

  She has the good sense to look confused.

  “You took those pictures of me.”

  Chantay looks from me to Olivia. “It wasn’t supposed to become a witch hunt. It was supposed to be a joke, a way to remind you of how much fun we used to have.”

  “Do you know what I’ve been called? How many people told me to kill myself?”

  “You changed,” she accuses.

  I nod. “I know, and if you were really my friend, you would have understood that, and you would have supported it rather than have worked so damn hard to penalize me for it.”

  Her brows draw low with anger. “They were ready to burn you at the stake, and I was the only one who was there for you.”

  “There for me? You’re the one who gave them the kindling! I came over here a mess, and you enabled me, and I’m not blaming you. I came to you asking to get fucked up, but you didn’t even try talking to me or helping me through what I was going through. Instead, you led me into the lion’s den.” I shake my head. “Don’t come near me. Don’t talk to me … just don’t. We’re done. And if you share any more pictures or post another lie about me or anyone else, I will gladly sit back and watch my father’s lawyers tear you apart.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Don’t push me, Chantay. I’ll fucking bite.” I turn on my heel.

  “Run away. Have your boring friends and your boring life.”

  I reach for my door handle and scoff. “They’re not boring. They’re real.” I duck into my car before she can reply, and Olivia climbs in beside me.

  “I feel like we should do something more. Something else to make her pay for what she’s done. I can’t believe how many lies she posted and was still trying to act like she was your friend. And not to be rude, but I’m shocked she was smart enough to beat Cooper.”

  “She wasn’t,” I tell her.

  Olivia twists in her seat. “I thought you just said…?”

  “She sent the pictures in, but she wasn’t the creator of the website.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because my dad threatened a massive lawsuit with the injunction, and the web hosting company gave him their name.”

  “Do we know who it is?”

  I nod and start the car.

  “Rose!” Olivia cries. “You know who it was?”

  “Sort of. I thought I knew the person, but this only proved I don’t.”

  “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

  “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly.

  Her jaw falls open, and she shakes her head. “What? I can’t believe you know. Why won’t you tell me? Why haven’t you already told me and Ian and everyone?”

  “Because I’m worried about everyone’s reactions and the repercussions.”

  “Repercussions?” she nearly chokes on the word. “Whoever it is deserves repercussions. They are the ultimate cyberbully of the year.”

  I get us back onto the main road that will take us directly to campus. “I know, but after being on the opposite side of this lens, I need to talk to them before making a decision.”

  Olivia sits in silence, no doubt considering my decision.

  “I’m not saying I won’t tell you, I just ... I need to talk to them first,” I say.

  “Do you want me to be there with you? I mean, I know I was super great backup there with Chantay, but if you want me there, I’ll be there. I will always have your back.”

  I grin. “I told Ian I love him.”

  Olivia gives another shocked expression, this one perhaps superior to the last, making me chuckle. “Any other massive secrets you want to lay out there for me?”

  “Fresh out, sorry.”

  We find a parking spot, but neither of us moves.

  “I was never a big fan of Chantay’s, but I never thought she would do that, and I’m really sorry it happened. I know how hurtful it is when someone breaks your trust, and I hate that she did that to you.”

  “I knew better. I
mean, she never contacted me unless she wanted to drink or party, and I wasn’t any better. We were probably toxic for each other, enabling each other to make stupid decisions and bad choices. I just never thought she would stoop to these levels.”

  “I hope you know I would never do that—I will never do that. I’ll be here whether you want me or not. You’re stuck with me.”

  I grin. “And you’re stuck with me.”

  “Ready?” she asks.

  I consider the last time I went to class, and my stomach lurches, but before I can respond, Arlo’s tapping on Olivia’s window with his knuckles.

  “How does he have such stalker powers?” I ask.

  Olivia laughs. “I texted him.”

  Ian appears behind him. They’re both wearing their practice jerseys with the offensive rumors written across their skin.

  “This stuff doesn’t stain, right?” I ask, glancing at the red “Slut” written across my forehead.

  “God, I hope not,” Olivia says. “Arlo and I are supposed to go to my dad’s tonight to take a family portrait for their Christmas card.”

  I smile at the mention of Arlo going with, but don’t have time to comment on the fact because Olivia opens her door.

  “Where were you guys?” Arlo asks as I read the word “Murderer” across his arm. They’re wearing each other’s rumors again, and it’s doing something to my heart that makes my altercation with Chantay seem so insignificant.

  Olivia turns to look at me over the top of my car.

  “I realized who took the pictures,” I tell them.

  Ian’s gaze turns hard. “What? How?”

  I shake my head. “That picture of Bobby and me wouldn’t leave my thoughts. All the others were candid, but that one, I was smiling in it and looking at someone, but so much happened that night, and it didn’t seem important enough to remember, I guess.”

  “Not to throw you under the bus, because I love you and will always be your ride and die, but Ian should definitely go with you to talk to you know who,” Olivia says as both Arlo and Ian shoot off a dozen questions. “He’s a little tougher than me and maybe a hair more intimidating.”