Keeping Score: A Sports Romance

by Dee Lagasse

  “You go on in,” he said as my eyes widened in fear. “I’ll be right there.”

  For a split second, I debated whether or not I should stay and help him.

  But then another loud rumble boomed in the clouds above us.

  “Go!” he insisted, grinning knowingly. “I got this, Bug.”

  There weren’t too many things that scared me.

  Thunder, though? Thunder terrified me. I wasn’t scared of the lightning—you know, the thing that could actually hurt you. Nope, my ass was scared of the big kaboom.

  Knowing his hands would be full, I waited right inside the sliding door to let him in. By the time he ran up the deck stairs, his shirt was completely soaked. Water droplets fell down his cheeks and covered his arms.

  Just as I slid open the door, another clap of thunder exploded in the skies. Jumping back in fear, I let out an inaudible scream.

  “Come here, you big baby,” he teased, opening his arms as he walked toward me.

  “No way! You’re soaked.” I squealed as he engulfed me in his arms. “Jacob James!”

  His laughter echoed in the empty house as I wiggled out of his arms.

  “Great.” I narrowed my eyes in his direction. “Now I’m all wet too.”

  He motioned to the hallway. “Well then, let’s go get you some dry clothes.”

  “Jacob Pierce, are you trying to get me naked?”

  Jake

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  As I opened my T-shirt drawer, I cursed internally.

  I wasn’t normally someone to believe in signs, but I was hard-pressed not to believe the thunderstorm hadn’t been an intervention of sorts. If the clouds hadn’t opened up in a downpour, I would have kept going. It was different with Isa. It needed to be more. More than heat-of-the-moment, backyard sex.

  We needed to go on a date. A real date.

  When she opened the door, I groaned. “Damn it.”

  Almost all self-control flew out the fucking window the second I saw her in my T-shirt. She had pulled together the bottom of the shirt and knotted it in the center.

  “Do you have a bag or something I can put my wet shirt in till I get home?” she asked, giving me an opportunity to regain my bearings.

  “I’ll just toss it in the dryer,” I offered, extending my hand for her shirt. “If you want to find a movie or something, I’ll meet you in the living room?”

  She followed me until I got to the door that led to my basement. Once I got to the washer and dryer, I grabbed the clothes I had forgotten in the dryer yesterday.

  I didn’t have a housekeeper. For the most part, I even made my own food. Hell, even my house wasn’t that big by typical NFL player standards. I didn’t need a big house. It was just me.

  I didn’t understand why single men bought multi-million-dollar homes. A big empty house all to myself? No thank you.

  Maybe it was because I grew up with Coach Coleman as an example. He could have bought any house he wanted. Fox Hollow may have been a smaller town, but there was a gated community full of those million-dollar homes on the east side. Hugh Fairgrounds lived there. A lot of guys on the team did.

  The Colemans lived in the suburban north end of town. Neighborhoods full of backyard pools and white picket fences. It was the perfect place to raise a family. It was exactly what I had in mind when I bought the three-bedroom, split-level ranch style home three houses down from Coach Coleman.

  More than anything, I wanted to settle down, have kids, and be the dad I desperately needed growing up. Stefano didn’t give me anything—save for the understanding of exactly what I didn’t want to be. And, beyond that, the understanding of exactly what I did want to be as well.

  I wanted to chase my dreams. I wanted to make a name for myself. So, later on down the road when I had children of my own, they wouldn’t want for anything. They would have me wholeheartedly.

  I didn’t realize when I bought this house that it’d been in the back of my mind. I wanted a place my children could grow up in that was safe. This street gave me so much security as a child. I longed to give to someone else what the Coleman family had given to me.

  Marriage and children were nowhere close to being in my immediate future, but if I was being honest, there was only one person I ever saw myself being with for the long haul.

  And, in this moment, she was right in front of me.

  Isa

  Since our dinner was ruined by the downpour, I called in a couple of salads while Jake was downstairs.

  “Did you pick a movie?”

  I hadn’t heard him come back up the stairs, so the unsuspecting company in the room startled me. “I did.” I tried my hardest to calm my racing heart as he plopped down on the gray microfiber couch next to me. “I also ordered grilled chicken salads from Fox Hollow House of Pizza. Extra ranch for me. Light Italian for you. I hope I remembered right.”

  A growing grin spread across his face. “You did. I wondered if you had caved on the whole vegan thing.”

  Shortly after our senior year of high school began, I decided I wanted to eat a strictly plant-based diet. If it didn’t come from the earth, I wasn’t putting it in my mouth. My family teased me relentlessly, but there was never a version of dinner I couldn’t eat during those two years. Even if it meant Abuela was making me my own meal.

  “I commend anyone that commits to being vegan. I just missed cheese.” I shrugged. “It was a downward slope back to bacon cheeseburgers after that.”

  He chuckled. “Also, I appreciate you ordering a salad for yourself. I wouldn’t have been mad if you got your jalapeño poppers, though. Can I get you something to drink? I’m pretty sure I have everything needed for palomas.”

  The tequila-based drink was my mom and abuela’s favorite.

  We always had tequila, limes, and Fresca in the house growing up. That’s why it was my choice of beverage to sneak when I was seventeen.

  “So, I actually don’t drink anymore.” I knew this would come up eventually. Though, it didn’t make the moment any less awkward. “But I’ll take a water if you have any.”

  “One water comin’ up.”

  He grinned before he jumped off the couch.

  Huh. That was easy. Too easy.

  The only thing that separated Jake’s kitchen and living room was a small retaining wall.

  “What made you decide to give up drinking?” he asked.

  I knew it.

  However, his question wasn’t laced with judgment like most people when I told them I didn’t drink alcohol. It was exhausting having to clarify that just because I chose not to have a beer didn’t mean I didn’t like to have fun.

  And, no, I wouldn’t take “just one shot.”

  “I didn’t like the person I was becoming when I drank,” I admitted. “I was drinking to numb heartbreak…to numb the loss of you.”

  I paused for a moment when he entered the room again. He didn’t say a word when he handed me a glass of ice water. His solemn stance was unreadable, but instead of feeding my fear, I exhaled and continued.

  “The first time I had sex—something that’d been so important to me to wait for—I was trashed. It became a cycle. Do something stupid when drinking, drink more to deal with the repercussions the next morning, do something stupid when drinking. I was—”

  The doorbell rang, interrupting my explanation. I reached for my clutch, but before I could make it off the couch, Jake was already at the front door.

  “Put your wallet away.” With his hand on the doorknob, he turned back to face me. “I asked you over for dinner. You’re not paying.”

  When the delivery boy realized he was at Jake Pierce’s house, he almost dropped the brown paper bag in his hand. “Holy shit. You’re Jake Pierce!”

  Jake not only caught the bag before it fell to the ground but proceeded to take the freakout with such grace.

  The delivery boy was only sixteen or seventeen. Bright red tufts of curly hair poked out of the little hole of his back
ward baseball cap.

  As soon as Jake saw the heather gray Fox Hollow Football shirt that only players received, he grinned. “You play ball?” Jake asked, scribbling his signature on the napkin the freckle-faced redhead had given him to sign. “What’s your name, man?”

  “It’s, uh, Nick,” the delivery boy told him. “And, yeah, I was at practice last night. I’m the backup quarterback, so I got to work with Fox. Coolest moment of my life, man.”

  “Fox is legit,” Jake agreed, obliging when Nick then asked him to take a selfie.

  I knew Jake was a big deal now. I saw the way the young players looked up to him last night at practice. Maybe it was because this felt more intimate—more personal—but I was so moved by the moment.

  It showed exactly who Jake was as a person.

  The world saw him as an up-and-coming football player. He was filled to the brim with talent and potential. Of course, I saw that too. But at the end of the day, he was just Jake to me.

  The boy who learned how to skateboard so we had something to do together. He was the one that got a job so he could afford tickets to see my favorite band. I knew the selfless, kindhearted man under the helmet.

  It was why I wasn’t questioning the decision I made in the backyard.

  Should we have taken more time before deciding to jump right into a relationship? Probably. Waiting would have only prolonged the inevitable, though. Whether it worked or not.

  I knew this was crazy.

  It was impulsive.

  And, exactly what I wanted.

  “All right,” Jake laughed as he finally closed the door, “where were we?”

  “You were just about to kiss me.”

  Isa

  My eyes fluttered open in panic at the sudden sound of Jake’s alarm clock.

  “Go back to sleep.” Jake chuckled. Seconds later, the droning beep ceased. The weight of the bed shifted as he leaned over and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I have to head to camp, but you can stay as long as you want. If you leave, just lock up before you go.”

  After we both fell asleep on the couch, Jake suggested I just spend the night. The thought of driving the thirty minutes back home while half-asleep gave me anxiety, so I was all too quick to agree.

  He made it crystal clear he wanted to wait to have sex until he had taken me out on a proper date. I pouted, eventually getting him to agree that the Super Bowl ring ceremony counted as a date. After he scooped me up and carried me to his bed like a baby, he even offered to go sleep on the couch. I told him he was an idiot and then proceeded to have the best night of sleep while wrapped up in his arms.

  He didn’t have to tell me twice that I could go back to sleep. As soon as my head hit the fluffy pillow, I drifted back into the sweetest slumber.

  When I woke up, the concept of time was lost on me. The light-blocking shades that covered Jake’s bedroom windows gave no indication of how long I slept. Once I reached over for my phone, I was shocked to see it was almost eleven-thirty. I couldn’t remember the last time I slept past eight in the morning. Even on the nights I worked at Retro and didn’t get to bed until close to three, I never stayed in bed this late.

  I’d have to ask Jake where he bought this magical bed. Or maybe complete bliss just wore this girl out.

  After unlocking my phone, I found three text threads with new messages.

  Two from my brother, one from Jake, and the last from my mother.

  Jake: Leaving you in my bed was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

  Javi: I take it dinner went well since you didn’t come home last night.

  Javi: Heads up. Ma called me. She saw your car @ Jake’s when she brought Abuela to her doctor’s appt.

  Mama: Good morning, mija. Coffee before you go home?

  Laughing, I sent my mom a text saying I would be there in a bit. Next, I opened my brother’s text and let him know I was alive and would be home after having coffee with Mom.

  Then, I stared at Jake’s text, re-reading his words before sighing happily.

  Isa: This bed is so lonely without you. Grabbing my clothes and heading over to have coffee with my mom. By the time you see this, you’ll be done…so, I hope you had a good morning at camp. Talk to you later.

  Even though we came to the conclusion last night that we were an item—an exclusive item, at that—I wasn’t sure what the ground rules were for something like this. Our relationship was new territory, not only for both of us but for me in general. Relationships, exclusivity, all of that was a pretty foreign concept to me.

  Sure, I had dated, but nothing ever stuck. The closest thing I had to something solid was with Wes, and the six months we spent together. Our relationship began after we met at a mutual friend’s bonfire last fall. Before he left for the night, he asked for my number. Three days later, he asked me to dinner.

  Things seemed to be going in the right direction. We talked about the future. He helped me put a portfolio together, introduced me to a few banker friends, and helped me through the process of buying the building that would eventually become my art gallery.

  On paper, things were perfect.

  But just as the saying went, if it seemed too good to be true, it probably was.

  We ended things when he told me he had a problem with how involved my family was in my life.

  In a way, I understood. It was a lot. My family could be a lot.

  I knew relationships required compromise, but telling me I needed to walk away from my family? That was never going to happen. So, I walked away from Wes instead.

  In hindsight, I should have known it wasn’t going to work out in the end. We had nothing in common. It went well beyond the whole “opposites attract” thing. His friendships were all based around work. Colleagues, clients, or connections made in the banking industry.

  Hell, I didn’t know there was an entire inside world of banking before Wes and I started dating.

  He didn’t understand why I would want to go to Salem’s just to hang out. The concept of weekly Sunday dinners at my parents’ house was seen as a chore instead of something to look forward to.

  We shared nothing meaningful. Nothing had substance. We never just stayed home, content being in each other’s company. There was always some sort of event to attend. I tried to pretend I was okay with it, but the relief I felt when we ended things proved otherwise.

  We ended things last March. Since then, I had gone on a few first dates. There were no second dates, though. So instead, I focused on my photography. If I wasn’t shooting, editing, or developing, I was working in the downtown office space that—once it was gutted, renovated, and painted—would eventually be the home of Coleman Collective. A gallery—my gallery—that would feature local photographers and artists, including my own work.

  Which reminded me, I had to stop by my parents’ house anyway.

  My dad still had my camera. I had already spent far too long without it. Even though it’d only been twenty-four hours, it felt like a piece of me was missing.

  At the sound of my phone ringing, I sighed. I expected to have to reiterate to my impatient mother that I’d be there in just a few more minutes. But at the sight of Jake’s name on the screen, an ear-to-ear smile spread across my face.

  “Hey, you,” I answered.

  With my phone in one hand, I clutched my rumbling stomach with the other. Thankfully, I knew Mom and Abuela would both jump to feed me as soon as I mentioned being hungry.

  “Hey, I only have a few seconds before I have to go back out for the press conference, but I just wanted to call and say hi.”

  “Hi.” I beamed at the sound of Jake’s voice coming through the phone. “How was camp?”

  “Good. Crazy. There were so many people here.” He chuckled. “So, I know we didn’t talk about hanging out tonight or anything, but are you around? I have lunch plans with my mom, and it would have to be low key because I have to get up early again tomorrow, but honestly, I just want to see you again.”

  “
I actually have plans,” I started. “But they’re low key too and I know you’d be more than welcome.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want to impose.”

  “I’m having dinner with Salem. She’d be mad if you didn’t come.”

  Jake

  One of the perks of being native to Fox Hollow was knowing there were certain places I could go where the owners would make sure I could eat or shop in peace. I tried not to take advantage of my “hometown boy” status too often, but there were always special exceptions to the rule.

  My momma being home certainly qualified as one of those.

  So, when she asked if we could have lunch at The Village Kitchen—her favorite artisan sandwich shop downtown—I didn’t think twice before calling up the owner and name-dropping to secure us a quiet table in the back.

  When we arrived, the hostess very discreetly took us to a corner booth.

  Had I known Kelsie Madden would be our server, I might have reconsidered the whole thing altogether.

  I heard her before I saw her.

  “Well, if it isn’t my faaaaavorite ex-boyfriend!”

  So much for flying under the radar.

  Despite the fact that I hadn’t seen Kelsie since her party after the Senior Bye-B.Q., she greeted me like we were old friends.

  I couldn’t remember if I’d even spoken to her at the party. Still feeling the high of Isa’s kiss, I had walked in on cloud nine. It didn’t last long, though. I crashed down hard when Devon, proud as a peacock, bragged on about how he “fucked Fox Hollow’s Virgin Mary.”

  It’d been six years, and she ruined any chance of me assuming she wasn’t being nice because of my status when she completely ignored my mother’s presence upon walking up to the table.

  “You know, I heard you were back in town.” Kelsie smirked, not breaking eye contact with me as she dropped two drink napkins down onto the table.

  “So did every sports news outlet that reported it,” my mom muttered under her breath. She made no effort to hide her dramatic eye roll when Kelsie not only ignored her but asked if we could take a picture together.