Touchdown Baby: A College Football Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  Cary Pierce promised everybody that they’d know my name. This season, we’d get their attention. Next season, we’d keep it. The man knows his shit, I’ll tell you that.

  “Junior! Junior! Junior!”

  I stand on the sidelines, submerged in complete shock and awe while they chant my name.

  By now, the entire city knows of our victory — especially with the amount of screaming threatening to tear the stadium down — but there’s only one person I care about celebrating with.

  I keep looking through the crowd, hoping to catch sight of her, but Alyssa Pierce is still nowhere to be found.

  Finally, my eyes land on a familiar face near the bottom of the bleachers, leaning casually against them and watching with great interest as the team passes by him.

  Grant holds up his hand as Ty draws closer. “Good game, Mr. Fisher!”

  Ty slaps his hand. “Thanks, man!”

  I pause in front of Grant, but he doesn’t seem to notice I’m here. His eyes are too busy over his shoulder, locked on Ty’s rear end.

  “Hey, Grant!”

  His eyes flick in my direction. “Oh, hey, Lover Boy.” He nods. “Did you see that? Ty gave me a high-five.”

  “I saw.”

  “I’m making progress.”

  I smirk. “Is Alyssa with you? She said she’d be at the game today.”

  He shakes his head. “She went home.”

  “Home?”

  “Yeah, she’s sick.”

  Disappointment stabs deep into my chest. Or is this concern? “Sick? How?”

  “I don’t know. She left rehearsal early today because she started throwing up.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I’m sure she is.” He cranes his neck to watch the rest of the team rush inside. “Check your messages. If you had plans, she probably texted you.”

  “Thanks.”

  A visual shiver crawls over him. “I don’t do vomit, man. Blood and guts? Cool. Vomit? Nope.”

  I pat his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll make it through this.”

  “I hope so.”

  I head for the locker room, sifting through the victory high-fives and pats on the back, and dig through my backpack for my phone. Just as Grant said, there’s a single message from Alyssa.

  I’m not feeling well tonight. Reschedule? Sorry.

  My fingers tap out a reply, telling her she doesn’t have to apologize and that I’ll see her on campus Monday if she’s feeling better.

  I don’t send it. I’d much rather go check on her myself, but I can’t just wander over to her house. If her dad comes home, it’ll be hell trying to explain what I’m doing there.

  I drop my phone into my locker and peel off the rest of my uniform while I try to think of a way to see her tonight.

  I should be buzzed as all hell, ready for a night of partying with the rest of the school. We just won the Homecoming game. This school hasn’t done that since the late twentieth century. No one’s sleeping tonight. It’s going to be a straight-up hootenanny here until dawn — and I’m the quarterback. Girls, booze, whatever I want tonight, I could probably snap my fingers and have it hand-delivered to me on a silver fucking platter.

  But all I really want to do is see her.

  After a quick rinse in the shower, I get dressed and step out into the hallway of the athletic center, flipping my phone over and over in my hand. There has to be some way to—

  A sharp giggle pierces my ears. I pause before rounding the corner toward the offices and peeking around. I spot a middle-aged woman in a too-short skirt lingering in the hallway… with Cary Pierce.

  He’s got his hands all over her and she just keeps on giggling while her own hands scratch down to his groin.

  Yeesh.

  Coach leads her away, wrapping his arm around her and whispering who-knows-what into her ear.

  A smile strikes me. If the stories Alyssa has told me are true, then Cary Pierce will party harder than anyone else tonight. It’s possible he won’t make it back home at all until morning…

  Leaving Alyssa home alone all night long.

  CHAPTER 31

  JUNIOR

  The last time I was here, there were armed security guards and valet parking. Now, without the burden of press snapping a hundred photos a minute, it seems like Cary Pierce doesn’t give a shit about home security.

  I stroll up the driveway with a to-go cup of coffee in each hand, walking straight through the very open gate. No guards. No dogs. No cameras, at least none in plain sight.

  As I reach the front door, I take another look around. It’s dead quiet. No loud neighbors. No abandoned cars. Definitely not Shanty Row.

  I poke out a finger, being careful not to drop the coffees as I push the doorbell. It rings inside, echoing off the walls before falling silent once more. I wait a few moments, listening hard for any movement before tapping the bell again.

  Still, nothing stirs inside.

  I balance both cups in one hand while reaching for my phone with the other.

  Answer the door, I text.

  Finally, I sense movement on the other side. The gentle tapping of feet on the floor just beyond the door. Still, silence.

  “Ally! Open up. It’s me.”

  The door opens. Alyssa stares at me with hard, suspicious eyes. Her face is paler than usual, but that just makes her blue eyes stand out more.

  “Junior, what are you doing here?”

  “We won the game,” I say.

  “Yeah. I heard.”

  “So, I came to see you.”

  “I told you I was sick…” She slinks back a little in the door frame. “If you came here to collect, I need a rain check.”

  “Relax, Ally. I didn’t come here for sex. I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  Her face screws up. “Really?”

  “Yeah. Grant told me you got sick at rehearsal.”

  “Oh. Well, I’m fine,” she says, fighting the blush in her white cheeks. “Just a little stomach bug going around, I think.”

  “Good. That you’re fine,” I say. “Not the stomach bug part.”

  I admire her face, her eyes, and her sloppy hair, holding back every urge in me to risk catching whatever bug she has. She’s just as beautiful in a dirty tank top and flannel pants as she is in her collection of come-fuck-me skirts. Maybe more so.

  I hand her a cup. “Think you can stomach some coffee? Black, as you like it.”

  She brings it to her nose to inhale the scent through the hole at the top. “Mmm. That’s the first smell in, like… twelve hours that hasn’t made me nauseous.”

  “And…” I reach behind my back and grip the soft plush hiding in my belt. “I thought this guy might make you feel better, too.”

  She smiles as I hand her the teddy bear. “Aww.” She hugs it to her chest. “Thank you. That’s so…”

  “Thoughtful?”

  “Yeah.”

  I pause, fixated on the glee trembling in her cheeks. “Can I come in?”

  Her face falls. “I don’t think so, Junior. My dad could come home any minute.”

  “I’m pretty sure he’ll be busy for a while tonight,” I say. “I saw him getting inappropriate with some woman after the game.”

  “Typical.” She smirks. “Even as a coach, he’s scooping up victory hoes.” She peeks over my shoulder. “Where’s your van?”

  “Not here. I had an Uber drop me off down the street,” I say. “If Coach comes home, he won’t know I’m here. I’ll sneak out and he’ll be none the wiser.”

  She arches her brow. “You’ve really planned this out, haven’t you?”

  “What can I say? I’m a rebel.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Come on, Ally. Don’t leave a poor boy hanging outside. It’s getting dark. I could get mugged.”

  “In this neighborhood?” she teases.

  I throw on a pout, batting my eyes. “Please?”

  “Fine.” She takes a step ba
ck. “But just for a few minutes. Okay?”

  “Just a few minutes,” I repeat as I draw an X over my chest. “Cross my heart.”

  She smiles.

  CHAPTER 32

  ALYSSA

  Junior follows me into the house. My senses spike on full-alert — just waiting for when my father’s car growls into the driveway.

  I glance at any reflective surface we pass on the way upstairs. I look like hell. There’s dried sweat on my brow. My hair sits in a messy bun on my head. I’m pretty sure I haven’t washed this top since the last time I wore it out.

  But Junior doesn’t seem to notice any of these flaws. Either that or he’s picked up quite a few acting skills from me during our study sessions.

  We climb the stairs to the third floor. I hesitate for a moment with my hand on the doorknob, quickly realizing that I’m about to invite a man into my damn bedroom.

  I hold my breath as I open the door.

  Junior chuckles as he steps inside. “This is your room?” he asks, his brown eyes invaded by bright pink colors and cartoon cats.

  “It sure is. Well, it’s the bedroom of the daughter Cary Pierce thinks he has. It was like this when I moved in.”

  I stand still as Junior wanders over to the bed. He sets his cup down next to my lamp and then scans the room again with interest. I take a quick sip of my coffee. It’s warm and comforting, but I can’t seem to shake the awkward feeling off my shoulders.

  “So… what did she look like?” I ask.

  “Who?”

  “My dad’s victory ho.”

  He laughs. “Oh, your standard blonde, I guess. Long legs, big jugs. An outfit about ten years too young for her.”

  “Sounds about right.” I smile. “So, there were no more victory hoes left for the star quarterback to take home?”

  “You are my victory ho.”

  I raise an eyebrow and his grin falls.

  “I mean…” he chokes, “that sounded way different in my head.”

  I laugh at the embarrassment on his face. “It’s okay. I know what you mean… I think.”

  I take another sip of coffee to break the chill in the room, but it doesn’t work. I set the cup down and grab a zip-up sweater off the back of my desk chair to throw on.

  “Aren’t you warm?” he asks. “It’s hot in here.”

  “Can’t seem to break this chill today,” I say, feeling it scratch down my back again. “Must be part of the bug.”

  “Here.” Junior steps over to me and lays his hands on my arms. He rubs them up and down, creating friction on my skin. “Let me warm you up.”

  Another shiver rolls over my body, but it isn’t from the cold this time. “Thank you,” I say through chattering teeth.

  “Come on.” He guides me over to the bed and sits me down, grabbing a folded-up blanket near the edge to wrap me up with. “Luckily, you’re looking at the king of sick days.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Nothing makes you feel better like a big blanket, a comfy bed, and—” he reaches over to my bedside table and snatches the TV remote, “really shitty television.”

  I laugh and collapse against my pillows. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Junior slides onto the bed. A dizzy rush trembles me as he lies down behind me, wrapping his arm around me to hold the blanket in place. “I always preferred the cartoon channels,” he says. “Still do, if I’m to be embarrassingly honest, but I understand if you’d rather binge on something a little more mature.”

  I smile. “I could go for some cartoons.”

  “Good answer.”

  Junior surfs for a while before finally finding a channel amongst the thousands available on my father’s useless satellite dish.

  He tosses the remote aside and tightens his grip on me. His heat blends with mine and the chills roll off me as quickly as they appeared.

  After a few minutes, I feel his lips against my ear. “This okay?” he whispers.

  I hum with approval.

  His thumb caresses my arm. He doesn’t say another word. He just… lies still and holds me. It’s…

  Nice.

  Really nice.

  I wake up the next morning, locked in a cocoon of warmth and comfort.

  Junior stirs as I do. His eyes flick with confusion, but it vanishes as he realizes where he is.

  My bedroom. We spent the night alone together, fully clothed in my bed.

  I swallow hard, far too nervous to break the silent tension myself.

  Junior gazes at me and smiles. “Hey.”

  My lips twitch. “Hey.”

  A knock strikes the door.

  “Hey, Alyssa!”

  Junior bolts up on the bed as I instinctively shove him away.

  “Closet, closet, closet—” I say, pointing at the other door.

  He stumbles to his feet, but somehow hides himself away a split second before the door opens.

  Dad walks in wearing the same clothes he wore last night with the added stench of cheap booze and dollar store perfume.

  My nose twitches from the smell, sending a wave of nausea to my gut. I guess I’m still sick.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say.

  “Missed you at the game last night,” he says.

  I nod, focusing all my self-control on not drawing attention to the closet. “Yeah, sorry. I wasn’t feeling well and—”

  “We won.”

  “I could hear the screaming on campus from all the way out here. Congrat—”

  “Try to make the next one, all right? It looks good for you to show your support.”

  I force a smile. “Of course. I’ll try. Sorry, I missed—”

  He leaves before I even finish the sentence, closing the door behind him.

  Yeah. That’s my dad.

  I walk silently to the closet. Junior has concealed himself behind a line of my blouses, but he’s completely visible from the waist down. Better than nothing.

  “He’s gone,” I say.

  Junior steps out, staying light on his feet. “You feeling any better?” he whispers to me.

  I nod. “A little. Not nearly as ick as yesterday.”

  “Good.”

  His eyes trace a halo around my head, and he grins.

  I quickly adjust the nest in my hair. “Ugh, I must look awful,” I say, my cheeks filling with blood.

  “You look beautiful.”

  My heart flutters. I drop my hands, suddenly not caring about the possibility of severe bed head.

  “I should get going. I need to meet with my sister.”

  I check the clock. It’s just after ten on Sunday. I can barely remember the last time I slept this well or woke up so refreshed.

  I open my door and stick my head out, focusing my hearing to pinpoint my dad’s location in the house.

  There’s a brief shuffling of feet on the second floor somewhere beneath me. I signal for Junior to stay back as I descend the stairs, inching closer to the master bedroom below.

  My dad’s shower turns on. I breathe easier.

  I wave up the stairs at Junior. We rush to the ground floor together, eyes constantly over our shoulders as we move. He throws the front door open and I force him outside onto the concrete stairs.

  “Thanks for coming over,” I say, birds chirping in the trees. “And for the coffee. I owe you one.”

  Junior closes the gap between us. He kisses me softly with his hands on my cheeks, holding me in place for longer than safety allows. A wave of warmth fires down to my toes, nearly knocking me off balance as his lips purse with mine.

  He pulls away and smiles again. “Bye, Ally.”

  “Bye, Junior.”

  I watch him leave. He takes off, sprinting down the driveway to safety.

  Junior Morgan.

  You—

  My gut twinges. I step back inside. A thick sweat coats my brow before I make it back upstairs to my room. I barely have enough time to close my door behind me and make it to the toilet before that nausea from yesterday returns with a h
eavy vengeance.

  Afterward, I sit on the cold linoleum of my bathroom floor, once again wondering what the hell I got into that made me so sick.

  This doesn’t feel like the normal flu, but it doesn’t quite feel like food poisoning either.

  With my luck, it’s mono. Junior will love that, I’m sure.

  Or maybe it’s Ebola. Nothing like a good flesh-eating bacteria to ruin a good weekend.

  Maybe I’m… no.

  No, that’s not possible. We’re safe. We’re always safe. Except for that first time, but that EC should have taken care of that. And besides, my last period was… um…

  I stare unblinking at the pink wall in front of me. I’ve been so busy with my classes and the play. I didn’t even notice.

  Oh, shit.

  CHAPTER 33

  JUNIOR

  I just slept with a girl.

  I liked it.

  I’ve slept with dozens of girls, but I’ve never once fallen asleep with one. It’s always been in and out. Bang and goodbye. But Alyssa? Not only did we sleep together, I heard she was sick, and I came running without a second thought. For once, getting laid wasn’t at the forefront of my mind.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “You like her.”

  “No.” I shake my head at Maggie across the table and chew a little more on my straw. “Wait, who?”

  “Whoever you have in your head right now,” she says. “Whoever she is, she’s stealing away my sacred Sunday lunch date with my little brother.”

  I set the empty cup down. “Sorry, Mag. Just distracted.”

  “Yeah, no shit.” She chuckles. “I expected Annoyingly Self-Confident Junior today after that win last night, not Oddly Pensive Junior. What’s her name?”

  “There’s no her.” I look down at the table and Maggie gasps, quickly bringing my eyes back to her stunned face. “What?”

  “What’s his name?” she asks, amused.

  “It’s not that, either.”

  She deflates in disappointment. “Well, there’s someone out there putting you in a tizzy and I want to know who it is.”

  “I am not in a tizzy.” I sigh, knowing that Maggie will play this game all day unless I give her something. “Okay, maybe I’m a little tizzy.”