by Kara Hart
I shrug and take another swig of water. “No reason,” I tell him. “This game is just important to me.”
“It’s that woman again, isn’t it?” he asks me. I smile a guilty smile and run my hands through my hair. “Fuck, man. Well, you saw her, right?” he asks.
“What’re you talking about?” I ask him as thousands of cheering fans go berserk over Arizona’s play. They gain some yards and I glance at the field, but I’m still not worried about losing this one. Landon points over our shoulders and there she is. Fiona, standing in the press area of the field, smiling awkwardly. She waves over at me and I wave back. “Shit,” I whisper.
“Just bang her already, man,” he laughs. “Get it out of your system.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I just need to get it out of my system. It’s been a while since I’ve felt like myself. It’s as if lately there’s been a giant weight on my shoulders and I can’t seem to shake it. I’ve never really had that before. At least, not in a long while.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I need to relax about things,” I say. “I can’t keep acting this way, man. I need to get back to basics. I can’t let shit control me.”
“Hell no, you can’t,” he laughs. “Come on. We’re up.”
Arizona gives up the ball without scoring. I throw on my helmet and Landon head-butts me before going in. “Let’s fuck them up,” he tells me. There’s nothing I would rather do.
* * *
It’s not long before the game is over and done with. Dead and fucking buried. Arizona had no idea what was coming to them. It’s sad, really. I mean, to beat your home state by that much. But that’s how it has to be sometimes. There’re winners and there’re losers. I’m always apt to be on the winning side.
And then I see her. And shit changes inside me. I suddenly feel all too aware of my surroundings, aware of who and what I am. I keep asking myself, “Is this who you really are? Someone who’s obsessed with winning? Is that all you’re good for? What about being a decent human being? What about putting effort into someone that isn’t you?”
Out in the dead hallway of the stadium, she comes up to me. I’m with the whole team and we’re shouting and smiling, and having a good time. We’re in good spirits because of the win, but when I see her, I have to stop myself. I distance myself from the group and the guys know something is up, so they continue walking. A few whistle at her and I give them an angry look. Landon just laughs to himself.
“Hey,” I nod at her and lightly touch her arm. “I didn’t expect you to be at this one. What’s up?”
She looks down at the cement floor for a second before her eyes meet mine. “Well, I couldn’t miss our hometown game. Could I?” she asks. “I had to fly in and see you crush them. Plus, I’m pretty proud of my PR skills. I totally got the league to let you play this game.”
She’s right. Without her, I’d be on the sidelines, cheering on the second string player who took my spot. Fuck that. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for helping me with that,” I say. “So, thank you. I’m glad my mom got to see me play here.”
“It’s no big deal, really,” she says. “Want to take a walk? You probably have a party to go to or something.”
“Nah, not tonight,” I admit. “I’m trying to lay low for a night. You know, I need to control myself a little.”
We walk through the halls and find an exit. I hold the door open for her and feel the hot air outside come rushing in. We walk out and the desert noises that were once home, are loud and familiar. They bring back memories and emotions I never thought I’d feel again. It’s oddly comforting.
“I never thought I’d hear you say those words,” she laughs. “Control myself. You did really well out there. No showboating necessary, you see? When you handed that kid the football, that was perfect. Just keep doing stuff like that for a while. Right now, you’re just trying to impress the networks and league.”
“I don’t know,” I laugh a little, feeling nervous. I don’t know how to act around this woman now. I don’t know what the protocol is. Ever since we met again, things have been all around crazy. My whole life has been in the spotlight. I guess it always has been, but this feels different.
“What don’t you know?” she asks me. We sit on the curb of the sidewalk, outside the stadium. A few fans walk by, but they don’t notice me. This isn’t like Portland. I’m practically anonymous out here.
I put my hand against hers, almost out of instinct more than anything. “Fuck the networks. Fuck the football league. I’m not trying to impress them or anyone,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” she asks, but she’s staring away. She’s looking off into the distance as cars drive by on the freeway.
“I don’t know,” I laugh. “Sometimes I think I’m only trying to impress…” I stop myself and feel my body grow anxious. My heart is actually beating faster than it does out on that field. I gulp down the bit of saliva I have left, and I allow myself to face what I’m feeling. “Sometimes I feel like I’m just trying to impress you.”
Her pupils widen and I feel her hand underneath my hand move away from mine. What the fuck? I didn’t expect her to have such an adverse reaction to those words. In my mind, I pictured something completely different.
Her breath quickens and she starts to look around us, as if she’s making sure no one is around. “Look,” she says, “we have to talk.”
No thanks, I think to myself. But what I really say is entirely different. “Okay. What’s on your mind?” I’m already trying to get out of here at this point. That shit I said about not partying after the game was just something to say. Now I’m wondering how I’m going to get out of this one.
She starts by taking a deep breath. Then she says, “The thing that happened the other day—”
I cut her off. “You mean, when you kissed me? That thing?” I ask her. “Look, don’t worry about it. I haven’t thought about it in days. I forgot it even happened.” I move away from her slightly and cough.
“Are you sure?” she asks, eyes full of fake emotion and empathy. “Because I felt really stupid for even doing that.”
“Yeah,” I repeat. “I’m sure. It was an accident. We have a lot of history together. It was bound to happen.” I smile and act as if everything is okay. Truth is, everything is not okay. Everything is dull. It’s boring. And now I want to get back to my old life. Why the hell did she have to even come here, anyway?
“Definitely,” she says, nodding hard. “I work for you. It would be a total breach of contract. Not to mention, it would be totally unethical if anything more were to happen.” I look at her finally and notice she’s wearing a nice dress that cuts off around the tops of her thighs. It’s brand new and I can tell she wore it for a reason. I can’t help but feel a mixture of confusion and anger. Why is she playing games?
“Well,” I say with a sigh. “It was good seeing you here. I’m glad we had this talk.”
“Wait,” she calls out as I step off the curb. “You’re not leaving, are you? I mean, maybe we could get some drinks or something.”
I laugh and turn around to face her. The look in her eyes is priceless. She knows she shouldn’t have brought that shit up here. Not tonight, anyway. But I guess I overstepped my boundaries. I shouldn’t have let out my true feelings. I should never tell women how I feel. I’ve learned that lesson one too many times.
“I shouldn’t be drinking. Not right now, at least. I have to focus on my training,” I tell her, winking. I smile wide to make sure she feels better about the situation. “Everything you said tonight needed to be said. Don’t even worry about it. Seriously. I’m cool.”
“Okay,” she says, dangling her keys in her hands. She wraps her palm around them and gently slides her fingers through the metal rings. “Let me know if you want to get breakfast or something. We can talk about getting you a cover shoot in Time. Sound good?”
“Sure thing,” I say, keeping my smile up. I unlock my rental car and jump in. I turn the car on and watch her
walk slowly to her own vehicle. Before leaving, I roll down the windows and tell her one thing. “Nice dress, by the way. I’m glad you took my advice.” I pull out of the lot as she stares in my direction and watch her sit back down on the curb.
Fiona
Leave it to me to fuck everything up. I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t let him say anything more. I don’t want him thinking that we can keep playing this little game. We had something real, but that was years ago. Now, we’re just business partners. That’s all we’ll ever be.
But I can’t deny what I’ve been feeling for him. If I’m being one hundred percent honest with myself, I have to admit that I wish something would just happen. Take tonight, for instance. Why did he have to say anything? Why couldn’t he just take control and kiss me?
I find myself driving home with the radio off, headed in the direction of my hotel room, feeling lonelier than ever. On the freeway, I drive fast and steady. I get to my hotel and fall onto the bed, groaning loudly. I want to call Jennifer and expel all my problems to her, but instead, I grab a wine cooler from the fridge and guzzle it down.
I turn off the lights and turn on the TV. The only thing that’s currently on is infomercials and the coverage of tonight’s game. I keep it on the Sports Network, but it just causes more anguish seeing Jackson’s face all over the screen. The headline is: Has our favorite bad boy finally gone good?
It’s not a very good headline, but it works. I close my eyes and run tonight over and over in my head. I should have kept my mouth shut. I should have just let things happen. It’s like Jennifer said. I just need to fuck his brains out and be done with him, once and for all.
I glance at my phone every ten seconds, hoping for a text or something from him. There’s nothing. Not even an email from Joseph.
I close my eyes and feel myself back on that sidewalk curb. The smell of the asphalt washes over me and suddenly, I feel how I used to feel, back in high school, before my life started to unfold into the chaotic disarray that it is now. I can hear Jackson talking about all his hopes and dreams. And that rush of excitement floods me all over again.
I open my eyes back up and call him. The phone rings hollow in my ears, sounding a million miles away. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m letting life guide me as it wants to. I’m just holding on for the ride, praying this will end well. Spoiler: it won’t, but I’m making the damn decision.
“Where are you?” I ask him immediately, once I hear his deep voice say ‘hello’ on the other end.
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’m at the Saguaro Inn. Not too far from you, probably. I’m with the guys, though. What’s up?”
I can feel my heart pounding. The Saguaro Inn. We’re staying in the same hotel. Okay, duh. In the background, I can hear yelling coming from the other players. It sounds like a small party, but frankly, I’m not about to join in on that fun.
“I’m hanging out and getting mildly drunk on wine coolers,” I tell him. There’s a long pause of silence and he doesn’t break it, so I clear my throat awkwardly. “And I guess I’m calling to say sorry about earlier.” I shut my eyes tight and pray he won’t freak out.
Luckily, he doesn’t. “It’s fine,” he says. It’s a little cold, but I’ll take it. I know I probably deserve it, anyway.
“It’s not. I know it’s not,” I tell him. “But I want to make it up to you.” My heart starts beating irregularly. My skin starts to prickle and my face feels clammy and hot. I take a deep breath and wait for his response.
“Yeah? And how are you going to do that?” he asks me. The sound behind him disappears and I can tell that he’s walked into the hallway of the hotel. He’s interested in what I have to say. But what am I doing? Am I crazy? Answer: probably.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you come over and find out? We’re in the same hotel. I’m probably just down the hall. Room 307,” I tell him.
“I’ll be right there,” he says, hanging up.
Suddenly, this is all too real. I close my eyes again and there we are. We’re young. We’re in love, but most of all, we’re totally lusting after each other. That was forever ago. Now, things are complicated in general. Being an adult is chaotic and crazy.
We’re young.
Well, those days are over, right? Now, we’re headed into oblivion.
I hear a knock on my door and I nearly trip over the hotel dresser when I run toward it. “Okay, chill out,” I tell myself, brushing my hair down. I’m still wearing that dress, the dress I bought to impress him. I hate even admitting that I did that.
I open the door slightly and look through the crack. “Oh, it’s you,” I say, smiling slightly.
“Yeah, it’s me. Let me in,” he says. I unlock the door and pull it open. He’s wearing a white wife beater, and his muscles are practically calling to me through the fabric. “
“Why are you staring at me all weird?” he asks, eying me as well. “Damn, I really like that dress on you. You know that?”
We walk in and I sit on the bed, rubbing my palm against the bed blanket. My dress is tight and it hugs the tops of my thighs, and I know he can’t stop looking because every time I make eye contact with him, his eyes scramble. This is already so fucking bad, but the course is set.
He doesn’t sit down. He just stands above me, looking at every part of me. I can’t read his thoughts, other than hunger. I just sit, yearning with anticipation.
“You know,” he starts. “You don’t have to apologize. I think I overstepped my boundaries earlier. I’m really sorr—”
“Jackson,” I whisper. “This isn’t a PR campaign. No more apologies. But since we’re business partners now, I think we need to figure out our boundaries. From now on, I think we should be straight with each other.”
“I agree,” he says, biting his lip slightly. I have half a mind to run my palm against his impenetrable six pack, to rip off his belt and feel the weight of all his power against me. But I don’t do anything. I just sit, stare, and wait patiently for his move. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never felt this spontaneous. At least, I haven’t in a very long time. I’m starting to feel that this is a night for new opportunities.
“Alright,” he nods. “No more apologies. That’s fine.”
And then out of nowhere, I say what I need to say. It just comes right out of my mouth. “Touch me,” I tell him.
“What?” His pupils widen and he takes a step forward instinctually, but I can tell that his mind is telling him to do two different things.
“I’m not going to tell you again,” I whisper, closing my eyes. I spread my legs open against the bed. “You wanted me to wear this dress right? It’s because you think I’m sexy, right? You want to give me all you’ve got, right? Now’s your chance. Touch me, Jackson.”
He looks around the room as if someone might be watching. I shake my head and grab his hand. He doesn’t need much guidance. After that, everything changes. It’s not so slow anymore. The room starts to heat up as I feel his hand ride up the bottom of my dress. Right past the flowers on the fabric, his hand slithers against my smooth skin.
Finally, he touches my lips and groans loudly to himself, as if in approval. “Jesus,” he moans. “You’re soaking wet, Fiona.”
“I keep thinking about this,” I tell him, opening my eyes again. “I want you. I don’t know what that means, really. But I do. I need you to fuck my brains out.”
“For old times’ sake?” he asks me.
“Fuck the old times,” I laugh.
“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” he says. He leans over me and kisses me once, pulling back slightly. He smiles like the cocky bastard he is and I glance down at all his tattoos and battle scars. I know he’s about to give me the fucking of a lifetime and that actually presents itself in two ways. First, I feel excitement and yearning, followed by a small tinge of exhilarating fear.
He pushes his hand further up the bottom of my dress and slides his palm against my ass before pulli
ng the whole garment over my head. He smiles and rips my bra off, snapping the left strap completely.
He kisses me again, biting down gently on my lip. His tongue wraps against mine and he pulls back again. We both look down. Him, at my body. Me, at his cock that’s pressing against the fabric of his gym shorts. My heart skips a beat and I’m suddenly even wetter than before.
“You want this?” He smiles, pulling off his shorts. I grab his underwear and slide them down. “You do want this cock, don’t you?”
“Give it to me.” I smile. “Give me everything you’ve got.”
“I don’t think you want me to go there just yet,” he says. “It’s probably too much for you to handle.”
“Don’t tell me what I can or can’t handle,” I whisper. I push my body forward and fall to the floor on my knees, arching my back and pushing myself closer to his massive cock. It’s bigger than I thought. Much bigger. “I can handle you,” I tell him, but I’m not sure if it’s true.
“Open your mouth, baby,” he whispers, his right hand falling against my cheek. His left hand goes further down, to my tits, on full display for him. He squeezes gently and rolls my nipple between his fingers. He pulls back on the tight skin and takes a deep breath. “I want to see you swallow me whole,” he says.
I grab his thick cock and start stroking him. My jaw drops open as he guides his cock into my mouth. I use my saliva to ease him in and taste salt as his head slides against my tongue. He pushes into the back of my throat and holds with a look of utter concentration on his face, like he’s trying not to cum right there. Then, he lets me go, giving me the reins.
I slide my lips off him and look up, stroking my hand over his girth.
“That’s it?” I smile. “That’s all you got?”
He pushes himself in deeper this time, over and over again, fucking my mouth. It’s lewd and dirty and so incredible. I’m squirming, trying to relieve the desperate need between my thighs as his cock actually gets harder. I mildly regret putting up such a tough exterior for him, but I’m going to finish what I’ve started.