Biker's Virgin (An MC Romance)

by Claire Adams

  It was a week. Just a week. I had been telling myself that since I had gotten confirmation that I was in. Now, it felt a week too long.

  Things were finally feeling good between us, the way they had been before I left, and now I wouldn't see her for a week. I parked in front of her building and headed inside. She had said I'd be able to catch her before her class if I went by early. I hoped a few minutes to seven wasn't too early. Walking up her stairs, I wished I had slept over or that we lived together.

  I'd never tell her, not this early that that was what I wanted, but it was. Whatever happened this week would probably tell me whether we could even do that or not, but like I'd told her, we'd talk about it. I was feeling pretty confident, but I wasn't dumb. It would take more than confidence to get me signed anywhere.

  I knocked and waited for her to answer. She was in small cotton shorts and a t-shirt that didn't quite cover her stomach when she opened the door – her pajamas.

  "Hey," I said walking in. She leaned up to kiss me.

  "You're right on time, breakfast's ready," she said, shutting the door.

  "You cooked?" I asked, walking into her place.

  "Frittata. Are you hungry?" I’d had coffee and cold pizza, just stuff I hadn't wanted to leave in the fridge while I was gone, but I could eat.

  "Smells great." She pushed her textbooks and laptop over to the side on her table, freeing up two spots for us. I helped her grab a couple plates as she got the food out of the oven.

  "Let's hope it tastes good, too," she said. She cut me a piece first. It had cauliflower, sausage, onion, and spinach in it.

  "This is great," I said, trying it.

  "Yeah?" she asked, smiling. I had some more. She had always cooked, but this was definitely a level up from what we used to eat when we got together. Cheese toast and ramen did the trick when you didn’t care to make anything better, but this was nice. She sat back in her seat, holding her coffee in both hands.

  "I'm glad you like it."

  "I wanted to see you before I left."

  "Are you nervous?" she asked, before scoffing and shaking her head. "Of course you aren't. You'll do great." It was like she was mad and happy about it at the same time.

  "Maybe I will be when I see who I'm up against," I offered.

  "You'll still do great, though. You always did."

  "That's the plan."

  "Good luck. I hope it works out," she said. It sounded so final when she did, like I wouldn’t be back this time next week.

  "I hope so, too. I'm kind of torn."

  "Why?"

  "I know the timing is shitty, but it's just a week. I don't feel good about slowing down right when things are picking up."

  "Who said anything was picking up?" she tried to joke, halfheartedly.

  I knew she felt it, too. She was just trying to be nice, saying she hoped I did well. The best thing that could possibly happen between us was me getting there and just not being good enough, the year off catching up to me and sending me back home empty handed. I didn't want that, but it would make things easier.

  "I'm gonna call you while I'm gone," I said.

  "It's going to be a busy week. I'll understand if you can't."

  "That isn't an option, Ron. I'm serious about this. It's not fair to keep you hanging while I'm gone."

  "Just stay focused," she said shrugging. "I know how much this means to you. This could be a great thing for your career." Again, it was coming from Ron, but still somehow sounded a little disingenuous. Like it was the same thing an aunt who had never really known you, but found out about the event would say.

  "It means a lot that I have your support."

  "I know how much you want to do this. I..." She trailed off and sighed. "It doesn't matter how I feel about it because the way that you do is going to affect that. I want you to be happy. I know this is what it's going to take."

  "It's just a week. I'll text you when I get there." She was looking down into her coffee cup.

  "Okay," she said shrugging again. We finished eating, and I left, after one more kiss at the door.

  How much would I hate myself if I blew this off? I wondered. That was a dangerous thought to have, but I was having it. I wasn't not going to go, but what if I didn't? It would probably make Ron happy if nothing else. If she was serious about wanting it to work out because it was what I wanted, then maybe going would be the thing that made her happy, even though it wouldn't in the short run. I hated how complicated it was.

  She got a raw fucking deal dating me, I thought on my way to the airport. It had always just been easier to think about this shit happening. Now that it was happening, I wanted to make it easier for her somehow. It had all started when I had gotten deployed. If that hadn't happened, I would be graduating with her next year and trying to get drafted out of school.

  Things could have gone differently during my deployment, and I took responsibility for that. It didn't change the fact that this was still going to be harder for her than it would be for me. I had been dreading the trip out, but now, I wasn't so sure about who I'd meet when I came to her apartment when I got back.

  I touched down in Houston after most of the day in the air. We started immediately. During previous years, the event used to be held at the team’s training facility, but this year was a little different. This combine was at the stadium. It was massive, and could seat close to 80,000 people. Out of all the regional combines, the one here in Houston seemed to always have the highest number of competitors. There had to be something like three hundred guys competing.

  The field was full of people, but it was easy to tell everyone apart. None of the players were in suits, none of the scouts or team managers were there to take part. Football was like any other industry: it helped when you knew people and politics and business mattered. That was part of the reason why after games, athletes always had interviews and had to take part in other corporate events. It sucked if all you wanted to do in the first place was play ball, but the players were who made the league. Without them, it would just be all the suits at the top who wouldn’t have any way to make money without the guys throwing the balls. Making conversation didn’t hurt.

  Since it was a scouting event, you were doing the right thing if you were talking to them. It would only make things better for you if you made a good impression during the evaluations and they actually got your name and talked to you personally. That was who I had to worry about, not the other guys here. They were my competition, but they had to worry about themselves.

  Football was a team sport, but we weren’t working as teams right now. I wasn’t nervous. I had hit 40 reps with 225 in the gym this past week, maxing out at 41. None of the other evaluations scared me. I wasn’t all the way back up to my game weight yet, but I could probably get away with being a little lighter since I was tall.

  I didn’t bother watching any of the other guys before me. I wasn’t picking up tips. I was taking a swig out of a bottle of water, rounding the field, looking for some shade when someone stopped me. They were wearing suits. Scouts. One was taller, but both had dark glasses on. They caught my attention, waving me over.

  “You Roman Blake?” the shorter one asked me.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I told you it was him,” he said, elbowing the other guy in the side. “Lucky I never made you put money on it.”

  “Can I help you guys with anything?”

  “You know the kind of rumors spread about you, kid?” the taller one asked.

  “Can’t say I do.”

  “A lot of us never thought we’d see you get past college level. When you fell off? What was that?”

  “Had to take a break, but I’m here now. Honestly, I never thought I’d make it to one of these.”

  “Believe it, kid. You got a lot of eyes on you,” the shorter guy says. “Whatever your first offer is, don’t take it. Hold out for something better.”

  “No pressure, huh,” I said lightly.

  “Hit all the p
hysical stuff hard enough, and they don’t give a shit about the rest,” the shorter one said. I laughed a little. If that was advice, I wasn’t taking it.

  “That’s what I’m here to do.”

  “And, we’ll be watching,” the taller one said again. I knew they were. That meant I had to kill it.

  I waited to feel something, even when I was up and had to do my first evaluation. We weren’t playing, but the field was the one place I’d never had to be nervous because this was what I did. I could play. My body knew how to move, and it hadn’t failed me yet. It sure as shit wasn’t going to start today.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Veronica

  Tiffany cursed from across the table, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah," she sighed. "I'm just not sure I'll be able to get this done before it's due." She had been tapping furiously at her laptop, pausing every so often to swear and delete everything she had just typed.

  "Isn't it due next week?"

  "With work and my other classes, it's going to be tight. I don't want to swap quality for finishing it fast. I don't know why this is so difficult."

  I watched her start over. We were at my place. Sometimes I worked better with a study buddy. Usually, she wasn't so stressed out, though. I figured it was just balancing work and school that was getting to her. It was hard. She had a lot on her plate, and I worried sometimes that she'd hit burnout and never recover. She was writing a paper for one of her economics classes, so it wasn't even one I could look at and help her put together.

  "How about starting with something else? Or tackling the easiest part first."

  "I should get this out of the way first."

  "If you do that, you'll never get to anything else. Do something simpler first. No, you know what? Let's take a break," I announced. I got up and walked into the kitchen. I started on making us both cups of coffee; I knew how Tiffany liked hers. Sweet and white, maybe it would help. She took it gratefully when I came back to the dining room. Her laptop was shut and books closed.

  "Better?" I asked as she took a sip."

  "Let's see in about ten minutes," she smiled wryly.

  "Can you believe the people who come back to school after kids and stuff? Can you imagine parenting and studying at the same time?"

  "I don't know where the hell I would start. This is hard enough," she said. "I'm barely keeping it together having a job at the same time."

  "You're doing great," I said, smiling at her.

  "Maybe it's a good thing I don't have a boyfriend. I wouldn't even have time for him."

  "Yeah, if he was needy like a five-year-old and not also a student."

  "College relationships are pointless," she said, "no offense. I mean the other ones. Not yours."

  "I'm in a relationship?"

  "I'd say going on dates and hooking up means you're in a relationship," she said smirking at me.

  "I don't know whether we're labeling it."

  "You don't have to. The labeling happens whether you like it or not. You're acting like a taken woman already."

  "Taken," I scoffed. I had a weird feeling about being taken, especially by Roman. I had been for so long, then suddenly wasn't. I didn't know whether I was comfortable with saying that I was again, no matter how many dates we went on or how many times we slept together.

  "Did you guys talk before he left?"

  "He came here yesterday to say goodbye."

  "He did? That was sweet."

  "He was still leaving, though."

  "You're really not giving him that?"

  "No, I am. I'm just saying. It's getting more and more complicated."

  "Complicated in a good way, though, right?"

  "It would be good if he didn't have to leave," I said. "I know he has to and he wouldn't if he didn't need to do it, but it still sucks."

  "You're falling for him."

  "We dated for almost three years."

  "You fell for him then and it's happening again now. That's why you're so upset that he's gone."

  "No, it isn't," I said defensively. It was. It totally was, but I didn't want to acknowledge it and make it true. She looked at me with the same deep blue eyes her brother had.

  "I know he's going to wait for you, Vee, as long as you make him, but you have to see that he means what he says to you."

  I was supposed to be the psych major, but it wasn't possible to shrink yourself. I just needed some time. I wasn't blowing him off, and I wasn't lying to him about how I felt. He knew I was unsure about what was happening between us. She still had a point, though, no matter what I felt.

  "Have you heard from him?" I asked.

  "Yeah, earlier today. He texted." Did he ask about me?

  "How is he?"

  "Fine. He said everything's going well. He sounded confident about his performance."

  "That's good. Right?"

  "He's there to impress scouts, so that's very good."

  "He really wants this. I hope it works out," I said.

  "He's lucky he has you supporting him."

  "How can I not? I wish what I felt with him was simple. I want him to be happy, and that means this. Going away for the combine and then probably again to play for whoever signs him. I just feel the closer we get, the worse it'll be when we have to separate again."

  "You have to trust him, Vee. Talk to him. He loves you, and he isn't going to do anything that's going to fuck things up between you."

  "You're right," I said, admitting it to myself at the same time. I could panic and keep trying to deny that it was true, or I could accept it. It shouldn't have been this difficult opening up to someone who I had trusted and had a history with already. I could only say it was because of what he had done to me for so long. Part of it was just me, not giving as much as I was getting from him.

  "He's really serious, Vee. I know I'm biased because you're my best friend and he's my brother, but you guys are good together," she said shrugging.

  "I know," I agreed, sighing.

  "Oh, and if you were wondering, yeah. He did ask about you. He asked me to tell him how you were. I told him to ask you himself. He's going to call."

  "Don't tell me that. I'm gonna expect it now," I said.

  "Well, you won't have to wait too long."

  Eventually, Tiff had to leave for work. I ended up leaving to go to the grocery store. What did I feel like having tonight, I thought, filling the shelves of my fridge with produce. I had made the frittata the day before to clean the veggie box out and since Roman had joined me for breakfast, I didn’t have any leftover. That was the one drawback of living on your own and cooking for yourself: leftovers. They were good when you needed something fast and convenient, but if you overshot how much rice you needed to make risotto by accident, you were eating it for the next three days.

  The mushrooms looked good. I thought through what I would need to cook them into a sauce that I could put over pasta. Roasting them with some sprouts, carrots, and peppers sounded good, too. I had never tried making mushroom soup at home before, I could do that. I could freeze soup and making it would justify the bread I had gotten... But it was summer, I couldn't eat soup. I decided to throw them in the oven with the peppers and sprouts. The leftovers could go in a salad, sandwich, or quiche.

  Midway through prep, a call came through on my phone, hiding the recipe screen. The name stopped me for a second: it was Sean. I almost laughed. Sean? When had we last talked? Two weeks ago? Why was he calling me now? If memory served, the last thing he had said to me was an ultimatum. I give him one good reason to keep going out with me or he wouldn't anymore, like I was up for elimination on America's Next Top Model or something.

  I let it keep ringing, I didn't even feel bad when he called back and I did it again. In my defense, I was busy, I didn't want to pick my phone up while I was cooking, but more than that...fuck that guy.

  Was he still waiting on that reason to date him, instead of the new woman he
met? I didn't have one, there was his answer. I had Roman. Putting it so black and white made my spine tingle. I had him. Why the hell would I waste time with someone who needed me to convince him to date me?

  Why the hell would I waste time with Sean anymore anyway? He was awful. I'd never get any of the time we spent together back. He couldn't communicate; he was terse and emotionally unintelligent. His relationship practices and mine didn't mesh. I had Roman and whatever little interest I had had in Sean was gone.

  I ate dinner in front of the television before heading to bed. I heard my phone vibrate again. Please don't be Sean again, I thought. Roman's name flashed on my screen instead. My excitement ticked up slightly. He had said he would call me, I thought. The fact that I had halfway been expecting it didn't mean I wasn't excited that he had actually done what he said.

  "Hello?" I said, picking up.

  "Hey, babe," he said over the phone. I smiled, rolling onto my side and tucking the phone between my ear and the pillow. The word Tiffany had used flashed through my mind again. Taken.

  "Hi. How did it go today?"

  "Alright. How was your day?"

  "Just alright?"

  "It was a bunch of sweaty guys trying to impress the men in suits," he said lightly. "Think of watching a practice session, but this one's in a huge stadium and not that interesting unless you know what's supposed to be happening."

  "It doesn't sound very fun."

  "It's not," he said. "It's work."

  "But you're having a good time?"

  "Good enough, I guess. It's good to hear you." I smiled.

  "It's good to hear from you, too. I was a little scared you wouldn't be able to get in touch."

  "I said that I would," he said simply. I couldn't imagine what he was describing very well, but I knew it was a big deal. It made me feel special that he wanted to keep in contact with me when he was so busy.

  "What about the city? Is it nice?"

  "Oh, you'd love Houston," he said.

  "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. If you weren't in class I would have asked you to come with me." I took a deep breath.