I left a glass of water on the coffee table in case mom needed it before walking out the door and heading to campus.
As I walked across campus, closer and closer to the stadium, I thought about how I had never even been to the stadium before. As soon as the stadium came into view I cringed. It was god-awful and ugly compared to the rest of campus. It was this glistening modern building that clashed with all the older brick buildings. I pulled out my phone to double-check the message Stella had sent me, informing me the offices were located in a tunnel underneath the stadium. The directions didn’t help. Somehow I got lost and ended up making two wrong turns that caused me to get there eight minutes late.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Landon was already sitting there. I realized at that moment how silly it was for it not to cross my mind that he would be there. I clutched my chest and attempted to catch my breath. I was tired from scurrying around the stadium in a lost panic.
Without a word, I sat down and tried to ignore the heat rising off of Landon sitting next to me. He didn’t even turn to look at me once I sat down. I hated to admit it, but his lack of regard toward me stung. Mere seconds later, the Coach stepped out of his office and called us inside. The two of us took our seats across Coach Kingsley and tried to stave off the awkwardness as much as possible.
“How are your grades?” He asked Landon pointedly, after only merely greeting me more as a formality than anything else.
“They're getting better,” Landon mumbled his reply.
I was pleased to hear it come from his mouth, but I just nodded solemnly. The two of us were sort of pretending I wasn’t there, even if for completely different reasons.
“Is it true, then?” It was obvious the coach wasn’t taking Landon’s word for it.
Luckily, I had come prepared. I nodded with a smile and pulled out a thin folder to show Coach Kingsley the proof inside. I started by showing Landon's record of attendance to prove he really was putting in the time and effort.
“He hasn’t missed a single session, first misstep aside,” I informed the Coach. Then I pulled out his original draft of his History term paper and showed him the final product. “We worked on this together for more than one session, but he pulled a good amount of the weight on his own, even completing homework tasks I set up for him.”
For the first time since I arrived, Landon looked at me. I felt my chest tighten when he shot me a grateful look for backing him up and proving to the coach he was being honest. I was proud of him and hoped he was proud of himself as well. He had gone from being someone who stormed into the Tutoring Center demanding he be let off the hook, to an actual student who put in thought and effort.
The Coach pulled the paperwork toward him and squinted at it, but I could tell he was just pretending to scrutinize it. Everything was for show. All Coach Kingsley cared about was getting the forms filled out properly so Landon could continue playing. He muttered something under his breath before nodding and shoving a piece of paper at me to sign.
I quickly looked it over. It was a verification of Landon’s grades improving.
“You’d better not make a liar out of me for signing these,” I joked under my breath as the Coach rummaged through a box behind his desk, back turned to us. I grinned at Landon with a sideways glance.
He made a face I couldn’t make out as he finally spoke to me, “I wouldn't do that to you."
I paused, holding the pen above the signature line and staring hard at the black print on the white paper. I felt my chest tighten more. There was a lot more weight to his words than I expected.
This wasn’t his usual teasing.
After the Coach dismissed us, I had to practically scurry out the door to catch up with Ivy. I know she heard me trying to catch up with her, but she didn’t bother turning around. I took matters into my own hands and quickly sidestepped in front of her.
“So, you coming to the homecoming game?”
Ivy stared at me. After my icy treatment earlier she probably didn’t expect to have a conversation with me at all, much less one so normal.
“I’ve never even been to the stadium before.”
I looked at her shocked, slowly shaking my head. “I can't believe it. Come out into the field with me. Right now. Let’s go.”
Now was her turn to look at me like I was crazy. “Are we even allowed?”
I snorted and made a show of rolling my eyes. “Are you kidding me?” I spread my arms and motioned toward my chest, implying I was too important to be kept off the football field no matter the time or day. “That's my dad's name on the front of the building, you know.” I leaned forward and winked, “I think we're allowed.”
As I walked off down a long corridor, she followed but still muttered something about me being a cocky asshole. I just shrugged. Even after she insulted me more than once, I was taking her somewhere and spending time alone with her—and she was allowing it. In my book that meant there was something wrong with both of us. She wasn’t refusing to spend time with some “cocky asshole,” and I still wanted to see her even after being insulted.
There was a pull between the two of us that seemed undeniably strong.
“Did your dad really have this stadium built just so you could play?” She asked skeptically as we continued down the corridor. I could tell in the tone of her voice is that the idea of such a thing seemed impossible to her.
“My dad always tried to do what was best for me.”
“And he figured giving you a brand-new stadium was best?" There was a bite to her question. To some extent I couldn’t blame her, I knew it sounded ridiculous.
I slowed down and turned to look at her, confused and perhaps even a bit offended. “My dad loves me,” I responded defensively as I looked away.
“Well, my mom loves me, she just shows it in other ways I guess. I didn’t mean to imply your father didn’t love you.”
I felt like I was on slippery ground. It was far too easy for us to get into a discussion that was too sensitive. It could easily lead to an argument and who knew what sorts of insults the two of us would end up hurling at each other. And if it didn’t end up that way, one or both of us would be in a vulnerable position. That didn’t seem any more appealing than the first option. I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes fixed on the ceiling. In many ways I didn’t like talking about my family. The way I saw it, people were always ready to judge or take advantage of wealth. As nice as it was to have money, it always felt like some elephant in the room. It was time to change the subject.
“How does your mother show it?”
Ivy stayed quiet. She took a deep breath and a step forward, shaking her head slowly. “In so many ways,” she replied sadly. “I’m just so worried about her.”
I instantly regretted asking. I mentally kicked myself for not thinking it through carefully. She had already told me her mother was sick. Not knowing what to do, I reached out and took her hand. She turned to look at me in surprise. I was partially expecting her to push me away and walk off, but instead she gave my hand a tiny squeeze.
Now was the moment to take her out onto the field and hopefully clear her mind of any pain she might feel about her mom. Holding her hand, I led her down the rest of the corridor and down some stairs until we finally walked out of the tunnel and onto the field.
I slowed to a stop, giving her time to look up at the open top and marvel at how blue the October sky was. We stood at the top center of the stadium right near the goalpost for a couple more minutes before I tugged on her and we continued around the perimeter of the field.
“Now that you’ve seen the goalpost,” I said nodding toward it, I pointed at one of the lines. “Can you guess what that is?”
“Uh, it’s–”
“The 10-yard line. Each yard line is labeled; you see?”
“What, are you going to quiz me later or something?” She asked jokingly.
“Well, maybe it’s your turn to know what pop quizzes are like,” I teased.
“Hey!
I’ve never given you a pop quiz!” She objected, playfully clutching her chest and making an insulted face.
“You’ve tutored me plenty, though, so I think it’s time you listen to your much-needed football tutor,” I winked, pulling her in a bit closer by tugging on her hand. I couldn’t even remember the last time I just held a girl's hand. It made me feel like I was in junior high again, but there was something about it with her that I loved. There was a simplicity to it that I hadn’t felt before. With all the other girls in college it was about getting them inside my bed. With Ivy it was about something else.
She knocked me with her elbow, “Yeah? What are you going to teach me?”
I turned to look at her with a devious smirk and she burst into laughter. I was going to make a joke dripping with sexual insinuation about how I had plenty to teach her as long as she was eager to learn, but I bit my tongue and held back. That could wait for later. For now, I wanted to hold onto the handholding lightness of what felt like an impromptu date. We wandered over to the seats behind the goalpost opposite from where we had entered. Ivy sat down easily, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I wonder what it’s like to have a stadium built for you. There’s something my mother always says,” she told me abruptly, still looking up at the October sky. “She’s always told me flowers have to grow through dirt.” Ivy took a pause and lowered her gaze to the goalpost in the distance. “I used to think that was some sort of magical phrase I could hold on to until flowers sprouted in my life, but now…” Her voice trailed off just as she lowered her gaze to the grass right in front of where we sat.
“Now?”
Ivy looked back up at the sky. “Now I think she told me that just to stave off some childish bout of whining,” Ivy joked. It was clear in her eyes though. There was a much deeper reason she didn’t believe in that saying anymore.
I watched her lips the entire time as she spoke. I noticed they trembled a bit when she spoke her last sentence, but I didn’t want to push her. I admired the way she held her head high as she spoke of her mom even though I could see how sad it made her. I scooted closer and she leaned in to me, only slightly. I placed my hand on her thigh to comfort her, wondering if she would appreciate it or if she’d just yell at me again, but she didn’t. She only continued to look up at the sky and scooted in a little more.
I rubbed her leg slightly, ensuring her that I was there. I wanted her to know everything would be okay. Her breathing hitched a little as she continued to stare into oblivion. My eyes traced over her for a moment.
And in that very second my life changed.
It all hit me harder than any linebacker ever could. It was like the weight of the world slammed into me.
In that moment I truly cared about her more than I cared about myself. I wanted to take all the pain she felt and give it to myself; just so she could be happier.
I reached over to turn her head toward me. She looked into my eyes and without a word I leaned in to kiss her.
It was a soft, tender kiss. I wanted her to know exactly how I felt. It was something we both had been longing for, but were too caught up in some high-stakes emotional game to admit our true feelings.
"You're driving me crazy, Ivy," I admitted.
I had never been more honest in my entire life.
I could have left a million times, but I stayed with him. The moment he took my hand in the hallways of the football stadium I knew what was coming. I knew the entire time it would lead to another compromising moment between us, but I let it happen anyway. I let him kiss me. It was so easy to get carried away with Landon again, but I could feel how different it was this time. We continued to kiss, lingering and long, but eventually it grew hotter and hotter. He broke away to catch his breath.
“I’ve wanted you so much,” he whispered against my lips. His lips landed against me again, kissing me as he leaned me back onto the seats.
“But Landon,” I mumbled in weak protest. We were out in the open and with the open sky of the huge stadium, I felt both dwarfed and oddly on display at the same time. “Someone could see us,” I warned between pecks of his lips.
"No one can see us," he whispered. He kissed me again. The grooves in the seats dug into my back, but feeling the weight of his body on top of me as he playfully nibbled at my lower lip made me forget. His hand wandered slowly down the curve of my waist until he slipped it under the hem of my shirt, softly caressing my bare skin. I broke the kiss and breathed out, long and slow, eyes ignoring the October sky in favor of looking into his brilliantly green eyes. Gently, he massaged the side of my chest as his lips landed against me again, his thumb grazing over one of my nipples. I shuddered and the seats dug further into my back. My knees trembled and my breath quivered as I clutched to his shoulders.
He pulled away and fixed his kisses on my neck, suckling as he pushed my legs apart and settled between them. I moaned quietly, not bothering to stifle it the way I did at home when I had my embarrassing fantasy. Now he was holding on to my waist and kissing my stomach where he’d pushed my shirt up, making every inch of me tingle.
I stared up at the October sky, feeling like I was slowly floating up to it. He ran his hand down the outside of my legs before pushing my skirt up around my waist, immediately running his finger along my wetness over the fabric of my soaked panties.
“Landon,” I gasped out, eyes wide.
His smile curled up in his typical smirk as he tickled my skin along the waistband of my panties before nibbling on my hipbone. I nervously clutched at his shoulders as my eyes darted from every entrance into the stadium. There were so many I had a hard time keeping an eye on all of them.
“Don’t worry. No one’s going to come here at this time.” Landon said, his breath warming my skin. I nodded and completely turned myself over to him, praying he was right.
He pushed the crotch of my panties aside to expose my wet and quivering center to the air. He smiled with appreciation and hunger before slowly inching forward until his lips pressed against my hot, wet skin.
“Oh!” I gasped out loudly, curling my fist and placing it over my mouth. He laid out a trail of small kisses over me wetness, bottom to top, before licking down the center with a small amount of pressure. It tickled and tingled and felt better than anything ever before.
I curled against the seats, not caring how much further they dug into my back. My eyes clenched tight as the pleasure took over my body.
“You’re so sexy,” he muttered against me. He gave a lick and looked up at me from between my thighs, “You got me so hard.” He paused and licked me up and down with more pressure. “You taste so good.”
My cheeks burned a brilliant red from embarrassment and desire.
“Let me taste more of you,” he whispered, almost pleaded, just before he steadily slid a finger inside of me, curling it upward once it was in. His tongue danced circles and figure eights up and down my wetness. I moaned and clawed my hand over the back of a seat, the cool evening air settling on my hot skin. Landon started circling his tongue and thrusting his finger, alternating between big and small movements, eventually flicking his tongue faster and faster.
He closed his mouth over me and sucked, stimulating my sensitive nub at the same time as he eased a second finger inside. I was panting louder than ever, gasping at the air and crying out as intense tingles coiled up inside of me. With one more thrust of his fingers I toppled over the edge. Hot pleasure flowed down my legs and curled my toes. I would have screamed out into the stadium, but I couldn’t suck in a breath. My thighs clenched around his face as he pushed against me, hard and aggressive.
He watched my face carefully the entire time, not once letting up on his licks. When my body tensed and shook and moaned as the orgasm took hold of me, he smirked against the hot, wet skin of my center.
I lost complete control, my composure and reservations were completely gone. Muffled screams behind my hands were let out freely the more he kept going. I even grabbed the back of his hea
d and tried to pull him up for a kiss, but he wouldn't let up. My efforts were short-lived anyway as I fell into the bliss he worked me into.
“You are so fucking hot,” he muttered against my hipbone before licking it. He ran the tip of his index finger over my slit and I quivered. He leaned in and licked me, working me more fiercely than before until I toppled over into a trembling mess.
I fell back, no longer sure whether I was in the sky or somehow still on earth. He made me soar straight through the open top of the football stadium.
Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 7