One Kiss to Win: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Romi Hart

  Laney looked out the window bashfully. “Yup. My mom went through graduate school when I was growing up. We sorta studied together. She taught me stuff she learned.”

  I thought about how hard it must be for her to be so far away from her mother. It seemed she had a close relationship with her. Laney must have been an adorable, sweet little girl.

  The server was a friendly woman with the focused attention of a professional server, which could be difficult to find sometimes even in the most exclusive establishments. Her dark hair was pinned back in a tight bun as she presented courses with courtesy and flourish.

  My favorite course was the fennel and rocket salad with grilled Cannard Farm figs and pancetta. The pancetta with the figs was an explosion of savory and sweet while the fennel added an earthy light sweetness and crunch. Laney enjoyed it too. I saw the tasty flavors registering in her eyes as she ate.

  Each course brought to us loosened Laney up more and more. She told me about her plans to work in the tech industry, possibly a startup in the Valley. “Technology is changing our world rapidly in so many ways. I want to be a part of that.” She smiled, bringing the third course, eggplant smothered in garlic-anchovy sauce, to her mouth. Her eyes closed momentarily as she savored the deliciousness. Then they sprung open. “Thank you so much for this dinner. I’ve never been to a fancy place like this before.”

  “Of course. I wanted to take you somewhere special,” I said. I wanted to reach across the table and hold Laney’s hand so badly again, but I fidgeted with my napkin instead.

  When the server set the dessert down in front of us, plum and strawberry sherbets with rose fruit soup, Laney’s eyes gleamed. She giggled. “This looks too beautiful to eat! I love these colors!” The dessert was a mixture of deep pinks and mauves with a swirl of rich white cream on top.

  Laney was an incredible woman: strong, independent, ambitious, and fun to hang out with. A big plus: she loved food. Most girls barely ate on dates.

  “I’m so happy you’re going to the game. It’s an important game too. A playoff. It means a lot that you’ll be there, cheering me on,” I said, gazing at her from across the table. She was so beautiful.

  “I’m excited! Thank you for inviting me. I hope you win.” She tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

  “We have to. Don’t forget I’m scoring a touchdown for you,” I added with a chuckle.

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten. I’m looking forward to it.” She swallowed her spoonful of sherbet then said, “Just so I know, a touchdown is when you put the ball in the hoop thing, right?” I wasn’t sure what to say. I thought she might need a lesson or two about football, but I hadn’t expected she knew so tremendously little about it. But then her mouth spread out into a wide smile. “Just kidding. I know what a touchdown is.” She laughed. “Kind of.”

  I chuckled. This girl is so cool.

  “You fooled me, Laney, you little minx.”

  After dinner, when I walked her to her dorm building, I kept my hands to myself. I restrained myself from even holding her hand although I wanted to so badly. I said goodnight and was ready to turn to go, but she surprised me. Laney kissed me on the cheek and said, “I had a lovely time. I can’t wait for Saturday.”

  I leaned down and kissed her on her cheek. Her skin was soft on my lips. “I can’t wait either.” I took a chance and cupped her chin. I had to taste her lips. She stood still and closed her eyes, so I went for it.

  I kissed her. Our lips met and our tongues collided and twirled around each other. She pressed herself up against me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around her. She didn’t pull away from me, so I kept kissing her, losing myself. Her hands ran up and down my back and then along my shoulders. When our kisses became more ardent, her small hands pressed down on me. I wanted to feel her touch me without my shirt in the way. I wanted to feel her bare skin on mine.

  When she finally pulled away, I yearned for more of her. She smiled shyly and walked inside. On the walk back to my car, I was overjoyed with how the night went. Laney even let me kiss her. I felt better than ever about my chances with her.

  11

  Laney

  My seat for the game was incredible. I was so close to the field that Jett could actually see me. I felt so special every time he waved at me and smiled. He looked so hot in his uniform.

  I never realized how violent football was. I’ve seen football games on TV, but with my seat so close to the field, I could actually hear the crunch of bodies colliding into each other. It was terrifying to watch Jett out there. I had never been so afraid of someone else getting hurt in my life.

  He walked onto the field with such confidence. It was sexy. I realized for the first time ever the amount of strategy football required. A football game, sports in general, had statistics that could be computed and analyzed. Decisions, or plays, could be calculated. I was fascinated.

  Cal was leading most of the game, so it was enjoyable to watch without stressing over the score. After a while, I got used to Jett being on the field. The offensive line was awesome and protected him well.

  With six minutes left in the game, when I was so sure Jett was safe from getting hurt, my heart plummeted. UCLA’s defensive tackle, number 97, Atkins, broke through Cal’s offensive line, charging right for Jett. Jett tumbled backward onto the ground. I could hear the loud impact of his body thudding into the turf. I clasped my hands over my mouth to prevent the scream that escaped me from being heard too loudly. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was wait.

  After a few moments, Jett sprung back up to his feet. I cheered along with the rest of the Berkeley crowd. The Cal band exploded into brassy booming music. It was a vicious tackle, but Jett pulled off his helmet and gave me a thumbs up. I knew my cheeks were red from blushing as people in the stands looked over at me.

  On the next play, Jett broke past the line of scrimmage. I cringed as I watched him run into the scramble. A Cal fullback nicknamed Ox blocked a UCLA cornerback 16 yards down the field. I watched Jett sprint 49 yards to the end zone.

  The stands roared. It was deafening. Oski, the Cal mascot, danced a jig on the field as the band played uproariously. Jett took his helmet off again and blew me a kiss. I melted on my feet. My legs were jelly from the kiss. I had to sit down. My cheeks were actually sore from smiling so much.

  The Cal Bears beat UCLA Bruins, 27 – 16. It was thrilling to be part of the cheering stands. My chest actually vibrated and shook from the music and the roaring fans. I walked back from Memorial Stadium to Clark Kerr even more excited about the after-game party than I was before. I couldn’t wait to see Jett. He’d kept his promise. He’d scored a touchdown and even blew me a kiss from the field.

  I thought about the real kiss after our date. I couldn’t wait to kiss him again. To feel his lips on mine. His strong arms holding me. I kept feeling his arms and shoulders with my hands that night. I couldn’t help it. He was so big and muscular. And sexy.

  My thoughts about Jett and his hard body were abruptly interrupted. “Laney!” It was Troy running up to me, out of breath.

  He was the last person I wanted to talk to right then, but I was my mother’s daughter. I couldn’t be outright rude to him. I picked up my walking speed a notch and said, “Hey, Troy!” forcing a smile.

  He kept walking with me. “How are you doing?” he asked picking up his pace.

  “I’m doing okay,” I said. It was awkward. I wasn’t sure what to say to him.

  “So I know you are going to a party later, but I was hoping you’d want to grab some pizza with me,” he said this with that desperation in his eyes that I’d seen before. I couldn’t bear it. I felt bad for him. Plus, I was hungry. Starving.

  “Okay. I could eat a slice,” I heard myself saying. I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

  We walked to Fat Slice on Telegraph. They served gigantic pizza slices. I adored their veggie slices: tomatoes, olives, zucchini, spinach, red and green peppers, peas and corn. When we walked
up to order, a sadness welled inside my empty stomach. Troy was going to order my slice without asking me.

  I opened my mouth to protest whatever it was he thought I wanted, but he interrupted me, “What kind of pizza do you want?” I was shocked. He was actually allowing me to make my own food choices. What a wonderful surprise.

  I blurted out quickly, “Veggie slice,” before he changed his mind. Then added, “Coke. Regular Coke.”

  Troy’s eyes lit up, and he laughed at my urgency. “You’re so funny, Laney.”

  I inhaled my pizza slice and slurped my Coke happily, instantly putting me in a soaring good mood. When Troy asked me to play Mortal Kombat on Fat Slice’s vintage arcade machine, I agreed.

  I was Sonya Blade while Troy was Johnny Cage. I had no idea what I was doing, at first, but I soon got the hang of the joystick and buttons. It was fun. I never thought I’d enjoy playing video games. On our last bout, I actually won.

  “I won! I won!” I jumped up and down laughing.

  “You deserved the win!” Troy said, clapping his hands. “My Johnny Cage went down! You annihilated him!” He pointed to a claw machine. “Because you beat me, I’m going to win you a prize.”

  I shook my head. “I hate those things. You have no idea how much money I wasted as a little girl trying to get a stuffed animal with that claw when I could have just bought one from the store for so much cheaper.” I put my hand over the quarter slot. “I can’t let you do this. This machine is the devil.”

  Troy nudged my hand away, smiling. “Nah. I got this. Trust me. You have to use a certain finesse with it.”

  I put my hands up, giving up the fight. “Okay, but I will only allow you to waste one quarter on this thing.”

  “Deal.” He held up his fist.

  I bumped my fist with his. “Deal.”

  In disbelief, I watched as Troy skillfully maneuvered the claw and pulled out a little Oski bear. He handed me the cute little guy and said, “See? You should have known me when you were a little girl. I would have saved you a ton of money.”

  I hugged the bear to my chest. “Thank you. He’s adorable.”

  Troy walked me back to Clark Kerr. “I had a great time,” he said, looking down at the sidewalk, he kicked a rock to the side.

  “I did too,” I said. Troy lifted his head to look at me. His face brightened.

  His eyes darted around nervously. “Are you free Sunday afternoon? I thought maybe… Would you like to get brunch with me?”

  I grimaced and said cautiously, “I don’t know. I’m not sure how tired I’ll be. I’m going to my first college party tonight.” I took a deep breath and looked around as I waited for Troy’s anger to rise. I was glad we were close to my dorm.

  “Okay. No problem. If you’re feeling up to it Sunday, just shoot me a text. I’ll put my number in your phone.” He put his hand out as I took out my phone from my jacket pocket and gave it to him.

  He put his number in and handed it back to me still, smiling. “Sure. I’ll text you if I’m up to it,” I said taking my phone back. I searched his face for any anger or a fury behind his eyes, but he was perfectly serene.

  “I’ll catch you later, Laney. Have fun tonight.” He left without any altercation, disagreement, or even discussion about the party tonight or Jett. I walked into my dorm room looking through my phone. Troy saved his name in my contact list with a heart next to it. I laughed. Troy seemed so different today than I’d ever seen him.

  My phone rang. It was Jett. I answered it right away, “Hi, Jett.”

  “Laney, I held up my promise didn’t I?” his voice was cool, crisp, and full of pride.

  I could feel my face heating with a blush again, thinking about how he blew me that kiss to me on the field for everyone to see. “You did.”

  “Did you have fun? Did you like the game?” he sounded happy.

  “I loved it. It was exciting, but I was terrified of you getting clobbered by the other team,” I admitted.

  “Laney, you’re so sweet to worry about me like that. I was so happy to see you in the stands, cheering for me. It felt good to see you there.”

  “I was glad to be there,” I said, and I meant it.

  “I can’t wait to see you, Laney. Can I pick you up early? Are you ready yet?”

  I looked at the time. “No, but I can be in half an hour,” I said already scrambling around.

  “Okay. See you then.”

  I hung up and grabbed my towel, bathrobe, and shower caddy. I walked into the bathroom, feeling like I was on a cloud. Both Jett and Troy had been perfect gentlemen.

  The hot water hit my face as I thought about the decision I needed to soon make. I’d have to choose one of them or drop them both. It would be a difficult decision to make. At that moment, I had no idea who to choose, but I knew I liked them both.

  12

  Jett

  “Man, that hit was brutal,” Hammer yowled, slapping me on my back hard.

  “Yo, it was straight brutality. Kendrick Lamar gonna write a song about you like this: The boy takes hits. He just don’t quit. He ran ‘fitty’ yards… for the fuck of it,” Carl said in hip-hop tempo.

  “Those rhymes are dead horrible,” Hatchet laughed. “Kendrick Lamar would never say terrible lyrics like that.”

  “And he ran 49 yards! Don’t give Gun more credit than he deserves!” Ox corrected him.

  “I know that! But ‘fitty’ flows so much better,” Carl said, jumping his shoulders up and down in a little dance.

  “Just cuz you’re from ATL doesn’t mean you’re Childish Gambino. Shit. You’re not even Donald Glover when he’s not being Childish Gambino,” Dylan mocked.

  “Whatever. Whatever. But ‘dat touchdown doe’!” Carl roared.

  I laughed. I let go of Laney’s hand for just a moment to give Ox a big bear hug, “I wouldn’t have been able to score if it wasn’t for this big guy blocking for me.”

  Ox put a hand to heart sarcastically. “Anything for you, Jett.”

  I grabbed Laney’s hand again. Her hand felt tiny and soft in mine. I was having a spectacular night. We won against the Bruins, and Laney was right by my side.

  The party was up in the Berkeley Hills at a former Cal football player’s, now running back for the Cowboys, house. He let us regularly use the place for after-game parties. The place was massive with lots of rooms with impressive views of the Bay.

  I took Laney up to the top floor, to a guest room that had a swanky balcony. From there, the view of Berkeley and San Francisco was stunning. The lights of the two cities sparkled while we held hands. I knew Laney was impressed. Her eyes shone as she looked out.

  I squeezed her hand. She squeezed mine back. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said, snuggling next to me.

  “It’s beautiful up here. My dream is to have a place in the Berkeley Hills one day just like this. Then, I can wake up and look at this gorgeous view every day.” I put my arm around Laney, holding her close to me. From up on the balcony, there was a light cool breeze. It blew through Laney’s hair that she wore loose down her back. I brushed a few strands back from her face.

  She was so beautiful and sweet; I had to do it. I leaned down with my fingers in her hair and kissed her. She clasped her hands behind my neck and pulled me into her. Her cool fingertips sent a thrilling shock to my bare skin. I kissed her harder, and when she didn’t protest, I gently led her back inside. Her eyes were wide and eager. Then we fell onto the bed with our mouths searching each other.

  Laney had a dress on, giving me limited access. I caressed her knee while kissing her soft lips. Inching my hand up to her thigh, I found it was warm and soft there. As I pulled my lips from hers, I looked at her and could feel the heat emanating from between her legs. I inched my hand up further until my fingertips brushed the soft cotton of her panties. Laney moaned softly, pulling my face down to her, kissing me harder and with urgency.

  I thumbed the top of her panties, feeling for her small excitable nub of f
lesh. I grew in excitement. My cock strained against the stiff material of my jeans. Miraculously, Laney reached for me. Her hand gently cuffed my swollenness. She rubbed so carefully; her light touch made me harder. My other hand kneaded tenderly at her full breasts. My delicate touch to her nipples and her clit beneath the cloth of her bra and panties made Laney moan, a low humming into my mouth.

  I gently bit the bottom of her lip. I wanted to devour her. Laney’s hand fumbled for my zipper and released my cock out of my restricting jeans. Just when she began to caress my pulsing tip with her fingers, someone opened the door.

  In a rush, we collected ourselves. Laney pulled down her dress. I zipped myself back up.

  “Oh! Shit! I’m sorry!” A man opened the door, immediately covering his eyes. He looked away with his hand up to block his view of the room and said, “Donnie said I could crash up here.”

  I recognized the man as a linebacker from the Cowboys. I helped Laney up from the bed. “For sure. We were just leaving,”

  “You sure? I can find somewhere else. I’m just dead tired right now,” he said with his hand still up over his eyes.

  Laney and I squeezed by him through the doorway. “No. It’s all good. Have a good night.”

  On the way back downstairs, we giggled together out of shared embarrassment. I worried that Laney would be mortified and upset, but she took the mishap in stride. She held onto my hand and nestled closed to me, making me feel like we shared a private little secret of our own.

  Downstairs, the party was still going on full force. I noticed a lot of girls I’d once been involved with practically swarming the place. I strode through them, Laney’s hand firmly in mine, and headed outside. Out in the backyard, we found the guys playing beer pong.

  Laney squeezed my hand and said, “I’ve got to go the Ladies Room.” I was apprehensive to let her go with all my past escapades everywhere in the house.