Keeping Score: A Sports Romance

by Dee Lagasse

  However, when it came to Lynx Mendez, if he wasn’t in his Bluecoats uniform, he was often spotted in a worn leather jacket, combat boots, and ripped jeans. The only time you saw his face on TV was on game days. Even his social media rarely showcased him. Something I decided was a damn shame as he took my hand in his own.

  “I had the pleasure of enjoying some of your abuela’s tamales a few days ago.” He smiled warmly. “They were the closest I’ve had to my own abuelita’s since we lost her four years ago.”

  Pride swelled through me as I graciously accepted the compliment on Abuela’s behalf. “I know that, even more than hearing you liked the tamales, my abuela will be over the moon to know they made you feel closer to your abuelita.”

  As he withdrew his hand, Lynx studied me with narrowed eyes.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked, breaking the silence that settled between us.

  “He’ll probably kill me if I told you this, but my man Jake’s been talking about you nonstop for the last few days. I kind of feel like I already know you.” He chuckled as he shifted his body weight from one side to the other. “I was trying to figure out if the version of Isa standing in front of me and the one he wouldn’t shut up about were the same human.”

  “Jake’s been talking about me?” The words flew out of my mouth without hesitation.

  Instant regret trickled in as Lynx’s eyes widened in curiosity. I should have continued the conversation by bringing up my father. Or, football in general. The weather. Why the sky was blue and the grass was green. Anything other than Jake. “Sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”

  “You didn’t hear this from me, but something about the girl that got away?” Lynx smirked.

  There was a mischievous twinkle in the pools of his honey-brown eyes. If I didn’t know better, I would think Lynx Mendez was standing here taking on the role of Cupid right now.

  Casually, to get my attention with subtlety, he tilted his head forward. The simple motion was just enough to silently signal Jake’s impending return to the bar area.

  This time, however, Jake was joined by my brother. I couldn’t read either of them. The uncertainty of what walked toward me gave me paralyzing panic.

  With every step they took, I attempted to steady my breathing. The more I tried, the harder it became to focus on anything else.

  You are a grown woman. A strong, independent, grown-ass woman. Pull yourself together, Isabel.

  Just before Jake and Javier got to us, Lynx offered me a half-smirk and a wave. “It was nice meeting you, Isa. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.”

  Before I had the chance to say any kind of goodbye, my older brother pulled me away.

  “You’re done for the night, Isa.” The stern tone in Javier’s voice sent a jolt of concern coursing through me.

  In my entire life, he’d never talked to me like that, like I was a child in need of a lecture. And, while there were six years between us, Javier never treated me like I was his kid sister. Especially not at work.

  “Don’t worry, you’re still getting paid for the night. Jake made damn sure of that.” The hard lines on Javier’s face dissipated as a slight grin spread across his lips. Leaning in, he lowered his voice drastically before adding, “Not everyone gets a second chance, sis. Make sure you take it.”

  Without elaborating, he loudly excused himself to “plan the Mendez Dirty Thirty.” He turned on his heels but looked back, quickly pointing to where Jake was waiting.

  Dumbfounded by the entire situation, I stood frozen in place like a deer in headlights as my brother continued to walk away.

  For the second time that day, I had no words for what was happening to me.

  Until it dawned on me

  This whole thing was a fucking setup.

  My brother knew Jake was going to be there early. He knew I wouldn’t be needed on the floor all night because the Bluecoats in the house were just the Mendez twins and Jake.

  There very well could be a thirtieth birthday being planned here, but Jake sure as fuck didn’t need to be here for any of this.

  And neither did I.

  As if he could see me connecting the dots, Jake made his way over to me. “Please, don’t be mad at your brother,” he started. “This was all on me.”

  Rubbing my temples, my chest expanded as I took in a deep breath. I closed my eyes, sucking in air. On the exhale, I opened my eyes, unsure what I’d find upon doing so.

  However, Jake Pierce with big puppy dog eyes that begged for forgiveness certainly was not it.

  “And…what exactly is this?” I asked.

  “Are you thirsty?” he replied, not even acknowledging my question. “Because I could really go for some fresh lemonade. The kind you can only get in Fox Hollow.”

  Jake

  I spent so long convincing myself that I was over it—that I was over her—that I actually tricked myself into believing it.

  Arrogantly, I allowed Javier to convince me I would be able to just walk right into Retro and bump into Isa.

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit, man. You’re Jake fucking Pierce.”

  Humbly, I supposed, I could admit he was right.

  Over the course of the last six years, I accomplished things I never even dreamed of. Playing for the University of Alabama put me on a direct path to where I’d landed. Back-to-back college national championships and being named the Heisman Trophy recipient my senior year were the highlights of my football career.

  Or, they were, until I was invited to Indianapolis to attend the NFL Scouting Combine a year and a half ago. All my effort that week paid off when the Miami Dolphins selected me in the first round of the draft. I continued to bust my ass and made the team’s final roster after training camp. Before the ink was dry on my contract, my saint of a mother packed up over fifty years of her life and moved down to Florida too.

  Just as we were getting settled, I got a call from Hugh Fairgrounds, the owner of the Boston Bluecoats. With mere hours left until the season’s deadline, my contract with Miami had been traded for Boston’s seventh and eighth round draft picks.

  “Pack those bags, Jake. You’re coming home.”

  I would be eternally grateful for the window of opportunity the Dolphins organization opened by signing me.

  Even more so, I was thankful for the trade.

  If I weren’t traded, I wouldn’t have played in a Super Bowl, let alone scored half the points we earned as an entire team—which also included the game-winning touchdown.

  I was named Super Bowl MVP that night, making me the youngest player awarded that title in franchise history. From there, it was late-night talk show interviews, Good Morning America, and a trip to Disney World with Fox and Lynx.

  A week later, Mother Nature gave us an abnormally warm February day. One we accepted graciously as we were driven through the streets of Boston on the infamous duck boats. Thousands of people cheered as we passed by. I shot-gunned beers with my teammates before noon and waved at the crowds that lined the city streets until my arm felt like it was going to fall off. Not a single second was taken for granted.

  It was a victory parade I assumed was well beyond my reach as a kid growing up in Fox Hollow, Massachusetts.

  That didn’t stop me from wanting it, though.

  Most people failed to realize the Boston Bluecoats don’t actually play in Boston. The Fairgrounds, the home stadium of the Bluecoats, was approximately forty-five minutes outside of the city itself in a small town called Fox Hollow.

  Compared to Boston, Fox Hollow was just a small blip on the map. Less than twenty thousand people lived in town. While the Bluecoats didn’t belong to us exclusively, we took pride in them like they were our own. Football was everything.

  Growing up, playing Pop Warner football was almost a rite of passage. Making the middle school team determined whether or not you continued your journey with the sport, and being part of the varsity team all but secured your college acceptance.

  It wa
s so cliché, but football was my first love. Nothing meant more to me. Isabel Coleman came pretty damn close, though.

  Which was why, when I returned to Massachusetts last season, my first reaction was “fuck yes!” immediately followed by an “ohhh shit.”

  I knew there was no way I would be able to avoid her forever. Especially when the Colemans were the closest thing I had to family in Massachusetts now. It was why I bought the house I did without even looking at it. All I needed to know was it was on the same street Coach lived on. Anything else could be dealt with later.

  After I found out I’d been traded, my mom decided to stay in Florida. She said the year-round sunshine was “good for her soul.” Almost a year had gone by, and I missed the hell out of her. But for once, she was doing something for herself. She deserved it.

  When I first moved back, I went to the practice facility and the stadium for game days. The only traveling I did was with the team. I avoided the grocery store. I turned my basement into a home gym. My trainer came to me. Getting swept up in celebrating my homecoming wasn’t an option.

  Within a few weeks of the season ending, I packed a couple of suitcases and headed to Fox and Lynx’s family compound in Montana. We were joined by Bluecoats tight ends: Ty Ashland and Benji Scott, and backup quarterback: Julian Teller. Fox and Lynx arranged for the best coaches in the country to come share their knowledge with us. Which included a week of me getting coached by Roger Coleman—again.

  When Coach was there, the guys realized my relationship with him went well beyond one of former player and coach. It didn’t take them very long to figure out Isa was much more than an old friend from high school.

  By the time we returned to Fox Hollow in June, not only were we completely in tune with one another as football players, we were family.

  For the first time since Isa broke my heart, I let people in.

  For the first time since then, I didn’t feel so alone.

  Fox and Lynx were the ones that helped me come up with a plan to run into Isa. Neither of them would leave my house until I called Javier, who was in without hesitation.

  Had I thought the whole thing through, I would have realized if I was genuinely trying to get closure—if I was genuinely over her—there’d be no need for a premeditated plan to move on. I would have already done it. It wouldn’t matter if I saw her or not. The thought of running into her at the grocery store or seeing her at her parents’ house if I dropped by wouldn’t absolutely terrify me.

  Of course, that epiphany moment didn’t come until I saw her.

  The sinking feeling of regret filled me as soon as the opening guitar riff of “What’s My Age Again?” started.

  I was the “little birdie” who told the DJ that blink-182 was Isa’s favorite band. And, I was sure they still were because I checked her social media more often than I’d be willing to admit. Because of that, I knew she went to New Jersey last month to see them play at Warped Tour.

  In hindsight, obsessively creeping on her Instagram was probably another clear indicator I was definitely nowhere near over her.

  I silently watched her raise her fist in the air as she shook her hips back and forth. It was just as mesmerizing as it’d been when I took her to see the band live when we were sixteen.

  Even from the back of the room of Retro where I was hiding in the shadows as the music played, I could feel her energy.

  She froze as soon as she saw me. All emotion drained from her face. A stomach twisting panic filled me.

  Abort. Abort. Abort.

  It was too late, though. No turning back now.

  Despite feeling like the world had been tilted on its axis and was spinning faster and faster by the moment, I did my best to keep my composure.

  That lasted all of two minutes.

  And now, we were in my truck.

  I wasn’t sure she would say yes. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I even wanted her to. But eventually, she did say yes.

  Apparently, a Retro employee leaked the info that Fox, Lynx, and I were in the club. A small crowd had gathered outside of it. Fox and Lynx took one for the team and went out to take photos as Isa and I snuck out the back door.

  As we made our way to the parking garage a few blocks away, I kept my head down. No one cared who I was in Montana, so I thought going out in public in Massachusetts wasn’t going to be as big of a deal as the guys from the team made it out to be. I learned real quick that hats and sunglasses were now must-have wardrobe staples.

  Normally, I didn’t mind snapping a quick selfie or signing whatever it was that fans shoved in my face. However, people tended to forget I was human—just another person. I’d seen players’ careers fall to the wayside after being rude to fans. As much as we said it was about the game, the persona attached to the player was just as important.

  My one and only concern was getting Isa out of there before someone noticed us. On instinct, I grabbed her hand when we dipped into the city streets. I apologized immediately and let go, but the small curl of her lips when I shrugged and made the excuse that “old habits die hard” gave me the tiniest sliver of hope.

  After twenty minutes of driving in awkward silence, Isa made a comment about the weather. I tried my best to keep my eyes on the highway ahead of us, but I couldn’t help but notice her shifting in her seat as she picked at her cuticles.

  Thanks to the history we shared, I knew she was fidgety when nervous.

  Me too, Bug. Me fucking too.

  “So, are you still taking photographs for the football team?” I asked, desperate to keep the conversation going between us. As soon as the words left my mouth, I immediately wished I could take them back and ask about something else.

  We graduated high school six years ago. Of course she wasn’t hanging around the field at three o’clock in the afternoon, taking photos of the high school football team.

  “No.” Isa chuckled. “Having my own clients and working at Retro makes it hard. When I do go to games, I stay up in the bleachers with Mom and Abuela.”

  “That’s too bad.” Seeing a small window of opportunity opening, I decided to take it. “I’m going to stop by during varsity practice tomorrow. I wanted to see if you would take some pictures for me to put on my social media. You know, going back to where it all started.”

  Before she could answer, I clarified that I didn’t expect her to do it for free. “I’ll pay you, of course.”

  I didn’t want her to think I had some kind of ulterior motive. I knew from a few friends I had made over the years in the industry that people seemed to have this idea that a photographer’s time was free. But I’d seen firsthand how much time and effort went into producing the perfect photo.

  I never wanted to be that guy. No matter my career status or how much money I had in the bank, no one owed me anything—least of all, Isa.

  “Shut up. You will not!” She scoffed while letting out a laugh. It was the first unguarded glimpse of her that night, and I reveled in the sound. “I’ll be there.”

  It was my turn to shift in my seat uncomfortably when I realized there were no more safe things to talk about. Which meant it was time to have the hard conversation. “So, we should probably talk about the elephant in the room…”

  “Probably,” she agreed, sighing. “And, I guess that probably means I owe you a little bit more of an explanation.”

  “That would be nice.” I laughed as I pulled off the highway.

  By the time we got to the old, flashing-yellow traffic light across the street from the exit, Isa began to tell me what happened after I left her backyard six years ago.

  “It took my dad threatening to call the police for Devon to leave,” she explained. “He was so angry. He punched a hole in the wall in the front foyer. You can still see the patch if you look close enough. As soon as he left, I called Salem. I didn’t know he went to Kelsie’s party, and I sure as hell didn’t know he was telling people we had sex that night. We didn’t. Not that night or any other night.”

&
nbsp; I don’t tell her I’d been so angry that night I could have punched a wall myself.

  When Devon came to that party, bragging about how he “fucked Coach Coleman’s daughter in his own house,” it took every ounce of restraint I had not to put him through a damn wall.

  Not because I was jealous. Don’t get me wrong, I was jealous, but Isa had been hell-bent on staying a virgin until she was married. More than anything else, I was disappointed at her for leaving her principles in the dust for a douche like Devon.

  “I shouldn’t have shut you out,” she continued. Her voice shook as she apologized again. “I should have told you I just needed time. It all happened so fast and was just so much to wrap my head around. You deserved better, and I’m sorry.”

  In that moment, none of it mattered anymore. I just wanted to reach over and pull her into my arms—tell her it was okay. Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t take much for me to forgive her. Now that I knew the truth of what happened, all I wanted to do was move forward.

  Pulling over onto a dirt patch on the side of the road, I parked the car. The Sunnycrest Farm stand had been in the same spot for as long as I could remember. Every summer, someone from the farm came daily to refill the produce and restock the plastic cooler with ice, fresh lemonade, and iced tea. There was a drop box for cash and checks. The only thing that’d changed since I came here with my mom to get corn on the cob as a kid was the sign, now with the farm’s PayPal and Venmo information on it to give people the option to digitally pay for their food.

  Turning to face Isa, I sighed. My turn. “I’m sorry too.” I shook my head as she opened her mouth. “I’m the one that put pressure on you to break up with Devon. I shouldn’t have kissed you in the first place.”

  Isa

  Jake’s words played back over and over in my head as we walked up to the farm stand.

  I pulled out my phone to pay for the lemonades and added an extra ten dollars for the watermelon I intended to take. I stopped by here just a few days ago to get flowers on the way to see my parents, so the farm’s information was at the top of my recent purchases in the app.