IMPACT: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vivian Lux

  In other words; drink too much, tell embarrassing stories starring myself, misbehave and, most importantly, blatantly hit on men for her amusement.

  I tossed my hair over my shoulder and leaned against our table, letting suit-man get an eyeful of my cleavage. "Like a moth to a flame," I preened, as he scooted right over.

  "Can I buy you a drink?" he practically begged.

  "I'm already drinking, but I'm feeling a little nauseous. Maybe you have some hard candy I could suck on?" I slurped up a big mouthful of my fruity cocktail, just for the pleasure of watching his eyes bulge.

  He stiffened at the innuendo. I’m pretty sure something else stiffened too. Now I was off and running, "I hear they have hot dogs here," I went on, waving towards the bar and then looking him dead in the eye. "I'm looking for something I can slip between my buns."

  The suited guy reddened. Candace desperately avoided eye contact, her lips pressed together to stop herself from bursting into hysterical laughter. I blinked slowly at him and ran my tongue along my teeth.

  He turned and ran away.

  "Oh my god!" Candace cackled. "I think you broke his brain!"

  I leaned back in my chair. "Aw," I grumbled. "I scared him off."

  The image of Brad devouring a hot dog came unbidden to my mind. He would have loved that line.

  "Who?" Candace wondered.

  Shit. I had no idea I had said that out loud. I lifted my chin, wondering if I should lie and then decided it wasn't worth it. Everything was cool, right? I didn't regret ending things with him at all. I was happy to be back in bars hitting on guys. This was my natural habitat. "Brad," I answered, casually swirling my straw in my drink.

  Candace gave me a penetrating look, one I couldn't quite understand. "You should say it to him then."

  "Um, he's not exactly available."

  "You have a phone, smartass."

  I swallowed. "We agreed not to call each other."

  Candace threw up her hands. "So text it to him!"

  "But...."

  Candace took her straw out of her drink and jammed it in my direction. "Who the hell is this 'fraidy cat in front of me and where the fuck did my ballsy best friend go? It's not a call, it's a text. You guys parted on good terms, right?"

  "Did you seriously just call me a 'fraidy cat?"

  "I did. Am I wrong?" She jutted her chin out at me.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. "Yes. Yes, you are."

  "You told me you guys parted as friends."

  "We did."

  "So what's the problem? Send your friend Brad a funny text. Make him laugh." She leaned back. "I know that Ian's all stressed to fuck about having to pack up and head out on the road. Brad's probably the same way. He could use the pick me up."

  I nodded. I didn't want Candace to know how guilty I felt about sending Brad away. No regrets. I felt no regret about telling Brad it was over, so why did I feel so guilty about the idea of contacting him right now?

  Because it turns out you dumped him before you learned anything about him. Because you really enjoyed being with him, even when you weren't fucking him, but you were too stubborn and set in your sluttish ways to admit it.

  Because you probably really hurt his feelings.

  I shook my head, swatting away the thoughts that swarmed liked mosquitos. Bullshit. Brad was a grown-ass man. A big, bearded hockey player for fuck's sake. He had exactly two emotional states - hunger and horniness. That's what I liked about him. He was an un-fucking-complicated guy. Not even a guy. A boy.

  A boy who loved my cheesy ass pickup lines.

  A boy I kind of really missed. Sort of. Maybe.

  "Fine," I grumbled. "I'll send it to him." then I brightened a little. "I don't think I ever even got to use it on him. That's one of my new ones."

  "He's missing out then," Candace said sharply. She was giving me a look I had never seen her give to me before. She looked like she disagreed with me. She looked like she was disappointed.

  Chapter 6

  Brad

  My alarm was set to go off at six and even that made me nervous. Traffic getting across town to the MCC campus was a total crapshoot at that hour. Marcus was getting released right during the morning rush, and it was supposed to rain to boot.

  I leaned over and picked my phone up. Better to make it five thirty.

  But as I flicked through the menus, it buzzed right in my hand.

  I hadn't deleted Olivia's number from my phone. I hadn't blocked her either. Maybe I should have? Maybe I should have also immediately deleted the text she just sent me. Instead of reading it over and over again, my pulse quickening each time my eyes drank in the words.

  Olivia: If I said, "that suit's becoming on you, and if I were on you, I'd be coming too," you'd totally appreciate it, wouldn't you?

  All thoughts of going to bed early fled my brain. My heart was pounding with...excitement? Anger? Why would I be angry that she was contacting me? Except that I had nearly made it one whole day without thinking of her... and here she was, reminding me that I was not over her in the slightest.

  I tapped out a snide response, deleted it, tapped out a sexy response, deleted that even faster, and finally settled on:

  Me: I would. For sure.

  Then I put my phone aside.

  Then I picked it up again, remembering my alarm, and saw her message, waiting.

  Olivia: What would you say back? If I had said it to you?

  I sat up in bed and thought for a second.

  Me: That dress looks nice on you, but it would look better on my floor.

  I set my phone down and closed my eyes. I could see Olivia, projected there on the back of my eyelids. She would be sitting on her bed in her pajamas - either that little slinky black thing she preferred, or, if she was feeling lazy, just that little white cotton set that had been my favorite - I didn't dare consider that she might be naked. She'd have one long, olive-toned leg stretched out in front of her and the other one tucked underneath. When she saw my reply, she'd laugh her full-throated laugh, tossing her head back to expose that long neck of hers and causing her hair to fall along her back in disarray. Then she'd tuck the long strands of hair back behind her ears, bite her lip and smile as she dove back for her phone, too delighted with her games to think for one second about how she was driving me crazy.

  My hand was already on my cock. Olivia with those green eyes of hers, watching my every move, like a cat ready to pounce. Olivia who made me laugh so hard I'd forget about my stutter and just relax. Olivia, who wasn't afraid of anything... except the feelings we had for each other.

  I exhaled hard, releasing my grip on my cock. I wasn't going to do this....

  Olivia: Very nice, Bradley. You have a proper appreciation of these things.

  I have a proper appreciation of you, I didn't write. I miss you I typed, then deleted. I also didn't write, Don't toy with me. We can't just be friends. I thought we could, but we can't. You mean way more to me than I ever realized. I need you more than I want to and if I can't have you then I need you completely gone and out of my life.

  Instead, I deliberately took my hand off of my stiffening cock and wrote what needed to be said.

  Me: I need to head to bed. We're leaving tomorrow.

  But Olivia was not one for subtlety, nor was she someone who left a conversation before she had said her piece.

  Olivia: Where are you headed first?

  Me: Pittsburgh.

  Olivia: Ooh, lucky you!

  Me: Totally.

  Olivia: Maybe you could go to Primanti Brothers and eat one of their famous sandwiches with the fries on them.

  Olivia: You have time to eat out while you're there, right?

  Olivia: You really like eating out.

  Olivia: You're good at it too.

  My pulse was rising fast and my cock even faster. What the fuck was she doing? This girl was going to kill me.

  Me: Yes. I enjoy restaurants.

  The three little dots that showed she was typin
g hung on my screen. I stared at them, breathing hard.

  There was a fucking line, and she crossed it. And even though it was the last thing I wanted to do, I shot her down.

  I hated her for making me hurt her this way.

  The next incoming text seemed almost embarrassed.

  Olivia: Well, I should let you go, then. Good luck.

  Me: Thanks.

  She didn't type anything after that, and I eventually gave up staring at my phone and set it back down on my night-table with the alarm set. I closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. I reached out for my phone again, wanting to start the whole conversation over again.

  I want to talk to her and she apparently wants to talk to me. We want each other, but we're not together anymore.

  What the fuck are we doing?

  This wasn't what I wanted. Lying here, alone in my bed, her spot next to me still empty. What I wanted was to take her panties off with my teeth and let her go buck wild on my face. I wanted to taste the way she tasted in the deepest parts of her. She used to tell me that only I knew how to get to those places. To think, to even have a passing thought, that some other guy might get the opportunity to taste what I considered mine.

  Fuck that shit.

  Fuck being friends.

  Fuck doing the right thing, fuck being rational grown-ups making rational fucking decisions.

  Fuck getting tongue-tied and shy in the face of the Olivia-onslaught.

  I was going to get her back.

  Where she belonged.

  In this bed.

  As soon as I made that decision, my anxiety about tomorrow melted away and I slept like a rock.

  *****

  Morning came too quickly. The shushing sound of rain against the windows had me in a stupor and I dragged my feet all morning so that by the time I reached the front gate of Metropolitan Correctional Center, Marcus was already waiting outside.

  I threw my battered old pickup into park and took a deep breath. Then I stepped out into the rain.

  "You still drive this old piece of shit?" Marc called by way of greeting. He was grinning ear to ear.

  "She's more reliable than you are," I shot back, going in for a bone-crushing hug. "You're bald, what the hell happened?"

  Someone, maybe it was him, had shaved off all of his dark brown hair, leaving a scalp so pale it looked like he was wearing a white swim cap over his head.

  "New me, bro, what do you think?"

  "I think you look like an idiot, so nothing has changed, really," I said, slapping the back of his head.

  Marc was three years older than me, and I had always considered him my big brother. The fact that I stood taller than him, the fact that my shoulders were broader and my waistline narrower, these were all facts that had nothing to do with my impressions.

  My big brother was out. I pulled him in for another impromptu hug.

  "Oof," he grunted as I socked him in the side. "Calm the fuck down, little brother, you're gonna break my fucking ribs."

  "Pussy. Didn't you work out at all in the prison gym?" I yanked open the passenger door - you have to have the right touch otherwise it'd get stuck - and Marc climbed in.

  "I did. Look at this shit." Marc pulled up the sleeve of his gray sweatshirt and flexed his bicep.

  "Ooh, I'm terrified," I mocked.

  "Shut the fuck up and get me the hell out of here? That is, if you can get this piece of shit running." Marc looked back into the bed and burst out laughing. "Isn't this the same truck you had when you were in high school?"

  I cleared my throat, irritated. "You know it is, Marc."

  Marc laughed. "Didn't you try to fuck Debbie Cappelli in the back there?"

  The rain was coming down heavier now and the wipers slapped loudly against the windshield. But not loudly enough to drown out my brother's crowing. "Don't the Hawks pay you? Why do you still have this thing?"

  "Because I like it," I gritted.

  "Uh oh, are you getting mad now? Don't start stuttering okay? I don't think I could handle that."

  "Fuck you."

  "What? I'm not being an ass, I'm just stating facts." Marc leaned his head back on the headrest. "You sound good by the way. Relaxed and shit. Good for you."

  And just like that, I went from wanting to murder Marc to being happy to see him. "Yeah?"

  "Yeah. You getting laid on the regular or something?"

  I clenched my fists around the steering wheel. For some reason, I felt protective about mentioning Olivia. Things were too complicated. Too up in the air. My decision from last night was still banging around in my chest. I hadn't had a chance to put it into action yet. I didn't even know how.

  I needed time to think.

  So I said nothing to my brother. "Of course," I lied, inching forward through the red light. "I'm a fucking hockey star, after all. I can have any girl I want."

  "My man." My brother slapped my shoulder and I grinned, thinking about the girl I wanted.

  Chapter 7

  Olivia

  Kyle Jarrett had a thing for Candace. He'd been pining for her ever since she and I started doing the web development for Cupid’s Arrow Dating Agency, right out of college. His crush was plain for everyone to see... except Candace of course, who took great pains to be nice to the awkward as fuck Boy Wonder. Her niceness only made him fall even harder.

  But the second Candace's belly started to swell with Ian Carter's kid, Kyle started treating her like she was made out of radioactive material.

  Maybe it was because I was her friend? Maybe because he was used to walking over here to stare dopily at her and my cubicle was conveniently right across the aisle? Who the fuck knew why his beady little eyes started roving over my body that Friday afternoon?

  I sighed and pushed my chair back from my desk. Of course Candace wasn't here to deflect the unwanted attention on to. Next time she had an OB/GYN appointment, I was going to make sure she scheduled it for when Kyle wasn't in the building. She was not allowed to leave me alone with him again.

  "Kyle," I told him, "you're staring."

  He froze like a deer in the headlights. "Am not," he whined, sounding so much the kid who picked his nose in my middle school that I had to suppress a laugh.

  I leaned back in my chair and immediately took note of the way his eyes went to my tits. This didn't make sense. Kyle hated my guts. Of this, I was completely certain. Because the feeling was entirely mutual.

  I tapped my temple. "Kyle, I swear to god, I never thought I would be saying this to you, but hey, my eyes are up here."

  "Sorry," he muttered, his eyes sliding reluctantly upward.

  "What the hell do you want?" I asked, not bothering to hide the contempt in my voice. He was the CEO, sure, but that didn't impress me. Once, back when I'd first started here, I'd taken the time to actually look at his spaghetti-ed lines of code. Way back then, I'd realized this entire tech company was held together by what amount to little more than rubber bands and glue.

  If he were just a trifle less odious, I could help him. I knew way more about coding than he realized. Kyle underestimated me on a daily basis, but that was fine with me. I collected my paycheck and went home at five every night, unlike the rest of the programmers at Cupid’s Arrow.

  And I liked it this way. I liked that no one asked me to stay late and help out. I liked being thought of as a slut, a bitch... a joke. It made my life a hell of a lot easier.

  Kyle hadn't answered me yet. "Were you going to say something?" I wondered. "Or were you just going to drool at me?"

  His eyes darted back and forth. "Uh," he said. Then trailed off.

  "Good talk. Let's do this again real soon." I rolled my eyes and swiveled back to my screen.

  God, I hated him.

  But... sometimes hate makes for a great lay. And Lord knows I needed one. I wasn't sure if I had lost my mojo or what, but since I had told Brad it was over, I hadn't found a single eligible guy.

  And I'd hit all of my usual hotspots too. I went to hotel ba
rs, dive bars, sports bars. All of my usual places. The treasure troves of easy dick.

  But none of the people attached to the dicks had struck my fancy. No matter how hot they were in theory, when they actually opened their mouths I wound up finding them physically repugnant. Each effort had so far ended up with me going home alone. It was confusing the shit out of Romeo, who had gotten used to having the run of the house while I slept over at Brad's.

  My dog was starting to give me pitying looks. Especially the night I texted Brad and he shut me down cold.

  That hurt more than I cared to consider.

  Maybe this was what I needed. I found Kyle truly repellent, but he would be an easy, quick conquest. A notch in my post-Brad belt. This would be good for me. Kyle would be a good way to break the spell, get over the hump, and ease back in, all of those things.

  If I could keep from vomiting in the middle of the act, that is.

  He was still standing there when I swiveled my chair back around to face him. And he seemed to have found his courage. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and then mumbled, "Bryant, you wanna get a drink after work or something?"

  I couldn't help but laugh. "Gee, Jarrett, you make it sound so appealing!" I scoffed, then reached out my hand and patted his arm. His skin was cool and slightly damp to the touch. "Why don't you try again and this time make it sound like you actually want to spend time with me?"

  Kyle rolled his eyes. His voice rose higher until he was practically shouting at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a few heads turn in our direction. "Come on, Bryant. I heard it through the grapevine that you called it off with your jock. Figured you might want to go out with somebody who could read above a fourth-grade level."

  I laughed, but inside I was seething. He had no fucking idea what Brad liked to read, how dare he?

  But then again... neither did I. Brad and I hadn't exactly sat around discussing modern literature. We didn't do much sitting at all.

  Well... I did sit on his face a lot.

  Once more I felt that strange sliding around in my belly that I had felt when my mom was telling me about Brad's upcoming season. That... was it regret? That feeling I had when I texted Brad, teasing him about eating me out, and he had refused to play along with the joke?