Keeping Score: A Sports Romance

by Dee Lagasse

  “Wow, Coach,” Jake teased. “I didn’t peg you for such a hopeless romantic.”

  “Wow, Jake,” my dad mimicked Jake’s tone before narrowing his eyes in Jake’s direction, “I didn’t peg you for a guy that wanted to lose his girlfriend’s dad’s approval before you even left for your first date.”

  Jake laughed as his hand slid across my back. “Fair enough.”

  His fingers curled, gripping ever so slightly at my waist. I rested my hand flatly on his chest. They were two very simple gestures we’d done in pictures together before. This time was different, though. It was possessive.

  His hands were on me. He had a smile that stretched from ear to ear. His shoulders were back, relaxed. He was happy.

  I knew as soon as we’d step out of the car that night, this little happy bubble we were in would pop. There was already speculation on the Internet about our relationship because of the parking lot kiss. I told Jake I didn’t care what anyone said about me, about us, but the urge to see what everyone was saying had been stronger than my willpower.

  I looked while I was getting my hair curled. Some of the things people said were enough to make me question whether or not I could handle this. Jake was a public figure. Part of being in a relationship with him would mean we’d be subject to public scrutiny.

  I didn’t care what anyone said about my looks; it was the comments made about my character. Words like “gold-digger” and “using him” stuck out like flashing neon lights.

  I almost canceled on Jake. But before I did, I had asked the only person I knew would understand: my mama.

  She started dating my dad right after his rookie season with the Bluecoats. While she didn’t necessarily have to deal with it at the extreme that I would, even thirty years ago people felt the need to throw their opinions around carelessly.

  “You have to ask yourself one thing, mija.” she started. “Do you love him? If the respuesta es sí, it’s worth it. Todo.”

  All it took was a single moment of motherly reassurance to put it all behind me.

  Because he was worth it.

  All of it.

  Jake

  As Isa was saying her goodbyes, Coach pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me. Keys.

  “Is this?” I asked with wide eyes.

  The 1929 Ford Model A in the driveway wasn’t the exact car Abuela had driven across the border when she fled from Mexico, but a gift Coach had given her for one of her previous birthdays. It was the only car that went into the garage at all times. And, I was obsessed.

  Coach nodded. “Abuela insisted. I checked the oil and topped off the gas this morning. You should be good to go.” He continued with, “I know I don’t have to give you the big dad speech that I’m supposed to. Just take care of my girl, okay?”

  “You have my word, Coach,” I assured him as Isa began walking over to us.

  “Abuela said we were taking her car!” Isa beamed, and my confirmation jingled in my hands. She leaned up and gave her dad a quick peck on the cheek. Lowly, she chuckled and said, “Wish me luck, Daddy.”

  “Luck? What do you need luck for?” he asked. “You have Jake.”

  Opening the passenger side door, I stepped back and waited until Isa and her dress were all the way in the car before closing the door. I turned to wave to Coach one last time and laughed when I saw our moms and Isa’s abuela had joined him on the front lawn to see us off.

  Once we were both situated in the car, I turned to Isa and smirked. “Ready?”

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Her smile in response was small, her voice quiet and timid. Nothing like the Isa I knew.

  “What’s wrong?” I shifted in the seat to face her. “And don’t say ‘nothing’…I know you better than that.”

  She chuckled. “I guess I’m just nervous. I’ve been in the football world my whole life, but not like this. I’ve always been someone’s daughter. Tonight, I’m someone’s girlfriend.”

  It never occurred to me that she would feel nervous about tonight. She had walked the red carpet at the ESPYs. Coach Coleman brought her as his plus one to multiple Hall of Fame induction ceremonies. I just assumed she would look at tonight like all those nights.

  “It’s just…” She broke eye contact with me and sighed. “I’m not a model. Or an actress. I’m just me.”

  “That’s my favorite thing about you,” I said as I took her hands in mine. “That you’re you.”

  “Jake.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I,” I started. “You are my favorite person on this earth, Isabel. You’re kind. You’re tenacious. You’re patient. You’re talented. You’re smart. You’re beautiful, inside and out. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world because I get to walk in that room tonight with you on my arm.”

  Her eyes searched mine. She was looking for a lie to call me out on. Unfortunately for her—or maybe actually it was fortunately for her—there were no lies to be found.

  In the entire time we’d known each other, I’d never been able to look her straight in the face and lie to her. In the beginning of our friendship, usually when it came to other girls or things I wasn’t exactly proud of, I would break eye contact, laugh, or ramble my bullshit so fast in hopes she wouldn’t see through it. But she did. Every damn time.

  Eventually, I just stopped lying to her. Not only was it pointless, but I hated doing it. Keeping the truth from her always left me feeling sick to my stomach. Isa deserved the truth.

  “You mean it,” she said when she realized everything I just told her was true.

  “Of course I mean it,” I confirmed. “So, what do you say, Bug? You ready?”

  This time, her smile was genuine as she nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Isa

  The Fairgrounds had lived on Wickett Pond Drive for as long as I could remember.

  The six-bedroom, loft-style house had direct access to Wickett Pond. When we were younger, Matt and I would take the pathway from their backyard and spend all day at the pond. No matter what he said, seven-year-old me was convinced they lived in a castle and were secretly royalty.

  It wasn’t just the cathedral ceilings, multiple fireplaces, French doors, and hardwood flooring; the Fairgrounds family had a live-in maid, a chef, a house manager, and a gardener. Matt went to a private, all-boys Catholic school. They threw the most elaborate parties. Matt’s birthday parties were weekend-long celebrations. But even the circus-themed birthday that had clowns, magicians, and live animals under a red and white striped big top seemed small in comparison to the way the backyard was set up now.

  As soon as we stepped over the threshold, a loud gasp greeted us.

  “Oh, my heart!”

  To just about everyone else tonight, the couple that stood greeting their guests as they arrived were Hugh and Pauline Fairgrounds: owners of the Boston Bluecoats. But to me, they were my godparents. Matt’s mom and dad. My parents’ best friends.

  “Hi, Godparents!” I said, greeting the two of them.

  “I was just over the moon when your mom called to tell us you were coming as Jake’s date tonight.” Pauline’s red lips curled upward in a big, bright smile. “You look like a princess!”

  “I feel like a princess,” I admitted as Hugh pulled me in for a hug.

  “Ready for the photo op?” he asked quietly, though the question was rhetorical. More like a warning of sorts. When he pulled back, he very loudly said, “Who would have thought. My godchild, the only daughter of Roger Coleman, here with my MVP.”

  Right on cue, the event photographer stepped forward. “How about a group shot?”

  Immediately, I noticed the Canon EOS 5DS the photographer had in his hands and smiled. A few weeks ago, Hugh had called me and asked for camera recommendations. He wanted to make sure his staff had the best of the best for this event.

  With Hugh on one side of me and Jake on the other, I flashed a smile for the camera. After the photo was taken, Jake and I began to m
ake our way toward the large tent in the backyard.

  There wasn’t time to appreciate the large floral arrangements, the white dance floor with the Bluecoats logo painted on it, or the clear top of the tent before Jake and I were bombarded by his teammates.

  Jake

  After taking our seats, I exhaled. A small glass box with my name engraved into it sat on top of the blue tablecloth. The biggest ring I’d ever seen in my entire life was behind the glass. Sure, I’d seen Roger Coleman’s Super Bowl rings, but they weren’t anything like the one tucked behind the glass in front of me.

  “Whoa,” Isa whispered as she took the seat next to mine and looked over into the box. Squeezing my arm gently, her voice was still hushed when she continued. “I’m so damn proud of you.”

  Six syllables, making up six little words.

  That was all it took.

  Tears filled my eyes to the brim and threatened to fall freely.

  Maybe it had to do with reaching a career high. The finale of my very first Super Bowl win was beginning. A celebration of victorious triumph that was enough to bring even the toughest of men to tears.

  Or maybe it was having this very woman by my side this evening. Out of the trillions of people in the world, there wasn’t anyone I’d rather have next to me than Isabel Coleman.

  Turning to face her, I knew there was a chance this may not be reciprocated. It didn’t matter, though. She needed to know. If the last six years showed me anything, it was that time stopped for no one, and everything could change in a single moment.

  “I love you.” The words fell from my lips effortlessly. We’d said it to each other hundreds of times during the duration of our friendship, but never like this. “Like, I really love you.”

  Her lips curled as she studied me for a moment. “I really love you too.”

  There wasn’t time to soak up our moment before the table began to fill with players. Once everyone had settled in their seats, Hugh and Matthew Fairgrounds took turns welcoming everyone from the front of the tent.

  “Congratulations, champions,” Hugh began, grinning. “Now, put those rings on and let’s fucking party! Here to kick off the night’s celebration—my good pal, Snoop Dogg!”

  The room erupted in cheers and laughter after Hugh’s introduction, and gasps and phrases like “oh my God” were heard around the table as my teammates started to take their rings out of the glass boxes.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Isa hold her phone up. Turning, I faced her, and she nodded in response.

  “Go on,” she nudged. “Open it.”

  With that, I opened the box in front of me and took the silver ring into my hand. Meticulously, I inspected the ring. Diamonds. A Lombardi Trophy on one side, our team logo on the other. Sliding it onto my right ring finger, I raised my hand to my face and offered Isa a smile. Right on cue, she snapped a photo.

  A snowball effect took place with players around the table, asking Isa to grab photos of us together. Fox and Lynx—who’d brought their mom and little brother as their plus ones—gathered around me.

  “Make sure you text that to me!” Fox said before he extended his hand and offered to take a picture of me and Isa.

  “I’ll just send it to Jake.” Isa smiled. “I don’t have your number.”

  “Well, let’s change that,” Fox said, as he tapped on Isa’s phone screen repeatedly. “Now you do!”

  “Mattyyyyy!” Isa called out as Matt Fairgrounds joined our table. At the sight of our old friend, the nervous tension that had settled in her shoulders seemed to disappear a little.

  “It’s about time, you two. Took you long enough.” Matt grinned, pointing between me and Isa. “Come on. There’s no way you’re sitting in your seats while Snoop fucking D-O-Double-G is on the stage. Come on. Let’s go.”

  What should have been a ten-second walk took us closer to ten minutes. We were stopped along the way. Introductions were made. Isa blushed when players recognized her as Roger Coleman’s daughter. There was a gushing pride in her voice as she thanked them for the praise given to her in reference to her father.

  Once we made it to the stage area, we danced. We sang. We ate our weight in street tacos. While most of the people around us were drinking champagne, Isa and I drank glasses of Fairgrounds Cranberry Co.’s very own sparkling juice.

  “What do you say, Bug?” I asked for the second time tonight. “Ready to sneak out of here?”

  Isa

  We must have hit every damn red light between the Fairgrounds’ house and Jake’s. The universe was certainly toying with us as we drove across town. Quiet anticipation radiated off both of us once Jake pulled into his driveway.

  His hands shook as he fidgeted with the keys to unlock the door. Quickly, he disarmed the home security system as soon as we walked through the threshold. As I closed the front door, he stripped out of his suit jacket, tossing it on the couch a few feet away.

  A low chuckle left his lips as he looked down at my feet. “I’m surprised your heels lasted on your feet for as long as they have.”

  “I can’t wait to get out of them,” I admitted, laughing myself.

  “I can’t wait to get you out of that dress.” Jake slyly grinned. “I mean, it’s pretty and all, but…”

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” I countered, a silent dare in my eyes as they swept over him.

  One smooth stride told me that was all the permission he needed before he closed the space between us. His hands, hungry and hurried, found their way to my hips. A firm grip, a tug toward him, and his mouth landed on mine.

  My hands were in his hair, then. A tug of their own as we collided in a crash of years’ worth of wanting. I fumbled with the halter tie behind my neck, unable to remove it fast enough as I kicked one heel off, then the other. At once, I shrunk several inches from his grasp. He laughed, backing up, undoing the top button of his shirt, followed by the one below it.

  I eyed him with amusement, biting back a smile on my lips, swollen from our fervent kiss. “What are you doing?”

  A smirk played on his lips as he nodded toward my discarded heels. “Two for two. We’re still keeping score, right?”

  My only response was one last tug, and the slip of my dress.

  Isa

  I could feel Jake’s eyes on me as I slowly stirred from sleep. Though I couldn’t say for certain when we crashed. I felt a little delirious, a little high, apparently tending to be that way after multiple orgasms.

  I would never confirm this to the thousands of strangers that commented about this on the regular, speculating publicly on social media…but yes, Jake looked even better without the uniform on. And he, in all his naked glory, was only mine to see.

  “Good morning,” I murmured, batting away the memory of his talented mouth all over me.

  Jake leaned over and left a kiss on top of my head, and I sighed with content. “Move in with me,” he said.

  It didn’t sound like a question, but after last night, I was willing to bet I’d give him whatever he asked of me—within reason. Sleepy laughter rolled off my lips as I looked up at him.

  Jake’s brow immediately furrowed in confusion.

  “Oh. You were serious.” I swallowed. “Jake, I can’t move in with you.”

  “Why not?” he questioned.

  “Because, it’s been days, Jake. Days,” I said softly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve loved every second we’ve spent together. It’s just too soon.”

  “Too soon? It’s been years.” He let out an exasperated sigh as he flung the covers back.

  “I know things have moved fast with us,” I continued, sitting up on the bed. “But, Jake, this is crazy.”

  “So, now I’m crazy?” He laughed in disbelief.

  “That’s not what I said,” I shot back defensively. Reaching down to the floor, I pulled the T-shirt I stole from him last night up and over my naked body. This wasn’t shaping up to be a conversation to have without clothes on. “Don’t twist my words around.” />
  “You just said you don’t want to move in with me because what, you need space, right? What else do you need space from, Isa?” he paused, but not quite long enough for me to respond. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “Jake, come on,” I said, reaching for him. “You are overreacting. We’re both running on very little sleep. Just, come back to bed.”

  “I have to take my mom to the airport,” he said flatly, as he pulled a T-shirt from his dresser. “I’ll just…I’ll talk to you later. Lock up when you leave.”

  When. Not if.

  Without another word, he left.

  My mom asked me six times during the forty-five-minute drive to the airport what was wrong. I lied, telling her I was hungover and didn’t get much sleep last night. At least the latter was the truth.

  Last night was perfect. From the start at the Colemans to the end of the evening, when Isa fell asleep in my arms. Everything finally felt as it should be.

  Right up until I asked her to move in with me.

  And she laughed. She fucking laughed.

  Maybe it was my own stubborn pride that made her response feel like a slap in the face.

  Or, maybe, it was that the sinking feeling I’d had all along was true—that this didn’t mean to her what it did to me.

  I didn’t want to wait to start our lives. We’d spent six years apart. All that time we could have been together was gone. There was no getting it back. Why wouldn’t we be doing everything in our power to make up for lost time?

  After dropping my mom off at the airport, I drove around Boston aimlessly. When my gas light lit up, I pulled into the first gas station I saw.

  After pumping my gas, I stopped in the little store for a Gatorade. But when I walked up to the check-out counter—Gatorade in hand—I froze at the sight of my father’s face on one of the tabloids.

  “Football’s Golden Boy Jake Pierce Leaves Father Homeless” read the headline.