by Kara Hart
Jackson shrugs. “You do what you have to do.”
I grab him before he says anything else further, and I pull him into the green room and lock the door. “You did it, I can’t believe you did it. Holy shit, you almost gave me a heart attack.”
“What?” He laughs. “You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?”
“Hell no, I didn’t.” I rest my hand against his chest and suddenly feel his ripped muscles. I have to take a step back and analyze things for a second. I try to pretend it didn’t happen. He just smiles and looks at me confused.
“I’m good,” he says. “At everything I do.” The energy in the room is palpable. My face goes bright red and I turn away.
“So what’s next?” he asks. “Think I’ll get to play?”
I take a deep breath and turn back around. “I don’t know,’ I say. “The networks will press the league to let you stay in. They technically shouldn’t let you play, but the ratings will skyrocket if you do. My guess is they will, but they’ll hold you accountable. You’ll have to sign a contract specifying that you’ll act like a good boy.”
He laughs. “I am a good boy.”
I roll my eyes at him. “Well, you definitely nailed it today. My boss is very happy with me,” I say.
And then something weird happens. He leans forward until I feel his hot breath tickle the hairs at my temple when he speaks. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” There’s a few seconds of pause between us and then I just do it. I kiss him.
His lips mesh with mine and suddenly his tongue slides against mine. I feel an excitement surge throughout my body, but it’s tinged with a guilty feeling of NO! I push back, feeling my heart race and I look at him wide-eyed.
“Um.” I gulp down, unable to look him in the eyes. “I have to go.”
I quickly walk out of the room and head to my car. I cannot believe that just happened. Jackson Leeman? No, just no! I can’t do this.
But then why did I just get a rush from that? And why the fuck am I wet? I speed home, nearly running every single red light. This is not good. This is horribly wrong.
Jackson
Well, that was unexpected. I never thought she would kiss me out of nowhere like that. I mean, I knew she probably still had the hots for me, but the timing was a bit unexpected. I’m not thrilled with having to call a driver to come pick me up from the station. The whole thing is completely unprofessional.
When I get home, I call up Landon. “Yo, come over,” I tell him. “I want to get fucked up.”
“I thought you were over that shit. I just saw you cry on live television,” he laughs. “God, you’re a pussy. You know that, right?”
“The things I do for fame, right?” I laugh back. There’s no way I’m going to let my teammates rag on me for doing what I needed to do.
“Alright, I’m heading in that direction with a bottle of Jameson. I want to watch as you down a glass,” he hangs up the phone.
When he gets here, I’m ready to rage. All that estrogen-based apology stuff has gotten to me. I’m a fucking ball player, for Christ’s sake. I hit people for a living. I don’t get why everyone’s so sensitive nowadays. Shit, they should be making action figures of me that punch.
I grab the bottle of Jameson right from his hands, run out back, and jump into the pool. I might be the only guy in the area with one of these and I love it. I scream with glory, a huge smile plastered on my face. Landon does a flip off the diving board, landing right on his back. We both laugh, gasping for air.
“I think they’ll let you play, man,” Landon says. “That whole show you put on earlier was gold. A-plus, really.”
“Yeah, I honestly didn’t think I’d be able to do it,” I tell him. “But I need to play that game. I want to destroy Arizona. Shit, I’d be playing against some of my old college buddies. Gotta show them who’s boss, you know?”
Landon nods and grabs the bottle from me. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” he says. “Let’s invite Misty and her friends over. You know, to celebrate. You down?”
I look away for a second, thinking. “Nah, man,” I tell him, getting out of the pool and laying on the hot cement. “I don’t know if I’m feeling up to that right now.”
“Come on, bro,” he says. “You’re not feeling that? What the hell kind of an excuse is that? I’m always feeling Misty. Even in my dreams, I’m feeling her.” He laughs and makes a kissing motion in the air. Normally, it would be funny to me, but for some reason, now it’s not making me laugh.
“Oh God,” he suddenly says. “Don’t tell me what I think you’re about to tell me.”
“What?” I ask him. “I’m not telling you shit. I’m just not in the mood. It’s been a long day.”
“You’re not speaking the words, but I read you loud and clear,” he says. “You’ve got a thing for that PR bitch, don’t you?”
“Man, first off, don’t call her a bitch. She’s a respectable woman,” I shake my head, suddenly regretting inviting him over. “Second, I don’t have a thing for her. At all. We used to date, so I’ve sort of done that shit already if you see what I’m getting at.”
“I don’t,” he says, getting out of the pool and walking toward my bench press. He dries his hands and sits underneath it. “Come on. Spot me.”
“Fine,” I sigh, getting up and taking another swig. He lifts the weights up and does about 16 presses. I help him put it back on the bar.
“She did kiss me though,” I admit. “It was weird. Like, it came out of nowhere.”
“I fucking knew it!” he yells, clapping his hands and jumping up. “What’d you do? Did you bang it out? Please tell me you’re not going soft on me. You can’t date this woman. You’re too young to settle down.”
“I’m 28, man. I’m not that young anymore,” I laugh. “But, no. I’m not going soft. I just don’t feel like throwing all my money at a stripper right now. Plus, Misty’s been boring me lately. Same old tricks, you know?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he shrugs. “She’s kind of the best there is.”
“Whatever that means,” I laugh. “Nah, man. It’s weird though.”
“What is?” he asks.
“I don’t know.” I sigh, looking away. I shouldn’t be talking about this shit with Landon. He’s too aggressive. He doesn’t understand these things. I doubt he’s ever had a serious girlfriend ever in his life. He doesn’t understand what having history with someone is like. “We were going to get married and shit.”
“What?” he asks, shocked. “What do you mean? Like, today?”
“No, not today, you idiot.” I shake my head. “Like back before I played college ball. We were together for a really long time. We have an extensive history.”
“So, you fucked a lot when you were younger and now you’re wanting to do it all over again,” he says. “Big deal. Fuck her and move on.”
“No, it’s not like that. Come on, man, I’m trying to have a one-on-one conversation with you, as a brother,” I tell him. “We never got that far back then. Her parents were always around us.”
“What? You never fucked her?” he asks. “Jesus, dude. I swear, you’re changing by the second. Who cares then?”
“Never mind,” I tell him, laying down and grabbing the bar above me. I lift the weights up and bring them down, against my chest until I feel the sharp burn of exertion. I put it back on the rack and jump back up. “Go ahead. Call Misty if you want. I’ll be out here, practicing for the game.”
He just groans loudly and walks inside the house. “No thanks, man. I think I’ll just head home. I’ll see you at practice,” he says, opening the front door. “Let’s hope you still kill it at the game. ‘Cause if you don’t, you’re going to let a lot of us down. I may be your teammate, but I look up to you. You never gave a fuck before. I don’t understand what’s happened.”
“See ya later,” I tell him, lifting the weights above my chest again. I do another set and scream loudly as he shuts the door. “Bastard.”
Look up
to me? Him? He doesn’t even understand me. He’s some rich boy who grew up in the suburbs. As for me, I grew up in a fucking trailer park. My dad clocked me every time I asked him a simple question. And the only solace I ever felt was in the game, and when I was with Fiona. I made a choice years ago and it was a mistake.
I don’t know. I’m feeling confused right about now. When she kissed me earlier it just clicked. It felt right. It felt like time hadn’t even passed. Now, I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s fucking crazy.
I grab my phone and see her text. She says: Sorry for earlier. It was a huge mistake. I’m so disgusted with myself right now.
Disgusted? Well, she didn’t have to use such harsh language. I reply back. It’s fine. No harm done.
Minutes pass and there’s no text back. I stupidly grab my phone and type out Dinner tomorrow? but I instantly delete it.
“Fuck it,” I say out loud.
An hour later, I get a call from my manager, Sheldon. He tells me I’m good to go on the Arizona game. Great. But now my heart’s all fucked up. Shit, maybe I am going soft.
Fiona
Oh, lord. I can’t stop pacing around my house. I’m eternally in mental and emotional anguish after doing the unthinkable. How could I? Why did I? Ugh, I’m such an idiot!
Okay, so I kissed the guy. It’s not like we’re going to get married or something. We have a professional relationship and I sort of overstepped it a little. He seemed like he was fine. He didn’t seem angry or that he cared. Or that… Ugh!
The fact that he didn’t react makes it even worse. I keep overthinking things. Did he want me to kiss him? Was he into it? Was he disgusted by it? I shouldn’t have texted him saying I was so grossed out by my actions, but I keep feeling like I have to justify myself, over and over again.
Jennifer comes over with a care package. A bottle of Rosé, chocolates, and strawberries. “Thank God!” I exclaim, wrapping my arms around her.
“Girl, you’re freaking out right now!” she laughs. “Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be alright. Explain everything to me.”
“I kissed him, Jen. Oh God, I kissed him!” I exclaim, feeling the shame creep up on me. I fall back onto my couch and cover my eyes. “I don’t know what’s worse. The fact that I kissed him or the fact that I ran out of the room.”
“You’re a hot mess right now, you know that?” she asks. “So you kissed the guy. Big deal. He’s totally hot and you definitely want it. I know I do.”
“I don’t want it. Trust me, I do not want that monster,” I tell her. Right. I don’t want that big hunk of pure muscle and power at all. He repulses me. I detest him. Right? Right?! “Okay, I know that I am kind of overreacting here. But it’s just too weird.”
She shakes her head and flips to the Sports Network. There’s an image of Jackson on the TV and I instantly feel my stomach drop and my heart palpitate. There’s something growing inside of me and I’m trying to understand it, but it’s difficult to wrap my head around. What is happening?
“You’re insane. That man is like the hottest guy I’ve ever seen,” she laughs. When she sees me roll my eyes, she shrugs. “Sorry. But seriously, there’s obviously still a connection there, right?”
“Wrong,” I say. “I don’t want to mend things or anything. I just want to go on with my life. Shit, I just want to be back in Los Angeles.”
“You don’t want the guys back there. They all suck,” she says. “Okay, fine. If you don’t want to mend things, don’t mend things. It’s that easy. But you’re a healthy adult. Jump on that bone a little. Explore each other’s bodies.” Her voice gets all weird and jokey and I’m getting annoyed.
“Jennifer! Ugh, no.” But I can’t help but feel as if she’s onto something. I’m not trying to find love anytime soon. And yeah, he broke my heart like a million years ago. Shouldn’t I be able to put that all behind me and move on? “Maybe you’re right. I’m an independent woman. Why am I still hung up on some bullshit that happened over ten years ago?”
“That’s what I’m asking. Seriously, just own up to what happened,” she says, pouring us glasses of the rosé she brought. I grab at a piece of chocolate and instantly feel relieved. “Honestly, he’s probably not even thinking about it anymore.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Oh, what am I saying? You’re definitely right,” I sigh. “I’m just going to act like nothing happened. We’ll just go about business as usual.”
“Good,” she smiles and takes a sip of wine. I take a strawberry and smile back. “And then fuck his brains out.”
Ugh. Yeah, and then do that. Right. But deep down, there’s a swelling idea that’s causing me to rethink a lot of things. It has to do with our history. It’s the way he touches my arm when I get annoyed. It’s the way he looks deep into my eyes with understanding. He’s the biggest asshole I know, but some of that disappears when he sees me. I don’t get what’s happening, dammit.
I’m not sure I want to.
Jackson
I get the word that I can play hours before the game. It’s an unorthodox decision, they tell me. However, I’m an unorthodox kind of guy, so I take it in stride. My team celebrates the decision with me. We scream it out in the locker room, and although Landon is still eying me funny, he knows it’s the right decision.
“Good to have you in the game, brother,” he says, patting me on the back. “Let’s give them hell.”
I smile and nod in approval. We’re going to give them more than that. We’re going to give them their day of reckoning.
Some of the guys on the Arizona team are people I played with in college. Some of them even had the audacity to question whether or not I’d make the pros. I played differently than the guys in the past. I put my ass on the line and they hated that. That’s exactly what I’m going to do today.
Before we run out onto the field, I manage to sneak away for a second to see my ma. She hangs off to the side of the field, wearing my jersey number, 37, and she’s practically jumping up and down when she sees me. She’s as cute as can be. I want to make her proud with every play.
“Oh, my baby boy!” she squeals and gives me a hug. “I knew they’d put you in the game. I told Brianna the other day at lunch, I said to her, ‘no one can refuse to let my son play in the game,’” she says.
“I’m lucky Ma,” I tell her. “I’m going to play my heart out for you today.”
“You know, you can play however you want. But it would be nice if you called me every once in a damn while,” she says with annoyance. “You never update me about your life. I miss you. Can’t a mother miss her son?”
“I’m sorry Mom, I’ve been a little caught up in things,” I say. “Oh, shit. Guess who’s been working on all my PR campaigns.”
“How should I know that?” she asks.
“Fiona Breckinridge,” I smile. “Remember her?”
“Oh lord,” she says. “You’re in trouble. I can already see it in your eyes. Lord, you’re in deep shit.”
“Mom,” I start. “I’m good. Trust me. Just thought it was a funny thing, is all.”
“Bullshit.” She squints her eyes the way she does when she’s trying to flush out a lie. “You’re telling me because you’re in love with that girl again, aren’t you?”
“Hell no,” I say, shaking my head violently. Love? There’s nothing worse than love. It’s a pack of lies. It’s something that was made up in order to imprison people. A good fling is great and all, but I don’t want to get hung up in that love shit.
“Well, be careful,” she says. “And if you do love her, don’t fuck it up this time.” My mother. The woman who raised my smart ass. Even at age 56, she cusses like a sailor.
It’s about this time that I know I need to head back to the game. I love my mom with all my heart, but she likes to keep me, even when I’m about to play one of the games of my career. When the lights dim and the crowd starts to cheer, I give her a kiss on the cheek and run back to the other players.
“Ho
w’s the mom?” Landon asks, grabbing my shoulder pads and shaking.
“She’s proud,” I tell him. “Can’t let her down now. I’m going to have to fuck this team up.”
“What’re you thinking?” he asks, knowing I’ve got something in mind.
“I’m thinking I’m going to run this kickoff into the end zone,” I tell him. “Start the game off real strong. Those suits making all the decisions are going to regret even thinking about pulling me from the game.”
We’re announced and we run onto the field, smashing through big wads of confetti. Cheers for Arizona, boos for the away team. I smile wide. They can boo all they want. It doesn’t change the fact that we’re going to whoop their ass.
Arizona starts the game with a kickoff. The ball goes flying in the air and I know what I have to do. The ball falls into my hands and I run with all the speed I can muster. Suddenly, everything starts to slow down, like in the movies. Only, it’s much more real. There’s so much on the line right now. And I know that if we start out strong, my team will play stronger throughout the whole game.
I glance at my coach, who’s screaming, “Go! Go! Go!” I glance at my mom, who’s doing the same. I look up at the crowd and I spot a fan with my jersey. There’s a look of urgency in his eyes. I look back at the players coming toward me and I’m running right at them.
I juke to the left and a guy falls to the grass, unable to get his hands on me. I dodge to the right and then I scramble to the left again. They miss me left and right. It doesn’t matter what they try and do. I’m too fast for them. I spin, pivot, and hop forward, literally jumping out of someone’s hands. I feel his hand get crushed under my cleats and I know he’s going to feel that in the morning.
Finally, I’m face to face with the end zone. I step into it and the thunderous loudspeakers go off. “Oh my God! Jackson Leeman has scored a touchdown! The game is underway!”