Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Yeah,” I remind him. “Sorry, Grant. I won’t be screaming yes for Junior Morgan anytime soon.”

  “But you want to, right?” he teases, nudging my ribs.

  I blush. I fucking blush. Just like Junior said I would. “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “I’m sure there are worse ways to spend an evening,” I admit. “But it doesn’t really matter anyway.”

  “Find a monologue for the fall semester showcase yet?” he asks me, shrugging as he changes the subject.

  I reach into my messenger bag for his book. “Not quite. Need your book back?”

  “Keep it. I have like three copies of that thing.”

  “Thanks for helping me out, Grant,” I say, letting the book settle in the bottom of my bag. “Mr. Young kind of put the fear of God in me…”

  “Don’t sweat it. The guy’s a cuddly puppy on the inside. Just stick to the classic, romantic monologues — he likes those. And don’t blubber during the emotional scenes. It’s too Streep — he hates that.”

  I nod. “I can handle that.”

  He throws his arm around my shoulders. “I know you can — because you have to. I’ve been waiting two years for a halfway decent ingenue to stroll through here, Eliza…”

  “So I’m halfway decent?” I laugh.

  “You’re more than decent. You’re Bergman to my Bogart, honey. You and I are going to blow Young’s frail, old mind at the audition on Friday.”

  I grin, completely seduced by his pep-talk. “Yeah. You’re right!”

  “I’m always right.” He releases my shoulders. “I need to get to class. I’ll meet you back here tonight and then on Friday — we shine!”

  I wave him goodbye and he spins around towards the auditorium.

  ***

  This place is a damn labyrinth.

  I’ve only been in the athletic center once or twice before. Now, I wish I’d asked for dad to meet me outside. I’m pretty sure I’ve passed that janitor’s closet three times now.

  I round a corner and spot a familiar face in the form of Bob, the assistant coach.

  “Hey, Bob,” I greet.

  His wrinkled eyes barely glance up from his clipboard. “Hey, darling,” he says. Bob’s only known me a few weeks but since day one, he’s always called me darling. I’d take offense but he’s such a lovable, old man. I find it difficult to feel upset about it.

  “Have you seen my father?” I ask. “I’m meeting him here for lunch.”

  “In the locker room, last I saw him,” he murmurs, pointing over his shoulder with his pen.

  I think to walk inside but then I pause, reading the MEN’S sign on the door.

  “Go on in,” Bob adds, reading my mind. “The team’s cleared out already. Check the office in the back.”

  “Thanks, Bob.”

  “If not, just keep your eyes on the floor,” he chuckles softly, grunting like the dirty, old man he secretly is.

  I smile and push the door open, instantly struck in the face with hot steam from recently-run showers.

  “Dad?” I call, my voice echoing throughout the room. It’s dead silent, save the occasional tap of a dripping shower head and the sound of my boots thumping beneath me. “Mr. Car-y P-ier-ce?” I say, adding a vibrato and listening to it echo back at me.

  I walk towards the office in the back, performing quick head tilts around corners as the rows of lockers pass me by.

  A white towel comes into view, tossed around the naked hips of a man standing before the last row of lockers.

  “Oh—!” I halt, nearly slipping on the moist floor. My eyes crash down, just like Bob told me to, and I keep them there. “Sorry, I was told the team was gone and—”

  “It’s okay, Ellie.”

  His chuckle fires down my spine.

  I look up to see Junior Morgan standing there in nothing but a damp, white towel. His skin is wet with little rivulets of water still tumbling down to his toes. I press my lips together, my eyes instantly drawn to the tattoos staining his white skin, along with the muscles pushing out beneath them.

  Whoa.

  “Oh, Ellie.” He lets out a quick whistle. “I’m up here.”

  I clear my throat and force my eyes to meet his. “I was just looking—”

  “For your dad,” he grins, reaching into his open locker for a stick of deodorant.

  “Right.” I take a breath. “Why didn’t you say you were in here?”

  “Well, you weren’t screaming my name.” He shoots me the briefest of glances, just a quick check to see whether or not I’m still gawking at him as he glides the deodorant under his armpits.

  Heat spreads over my skin. It’s far too warm in here for this sweater but there’s no way I’m taking it off with Junior Morgan standing half buck in front of me. A bead of sweat travels down my back, tickling my nerves with welcome discomfort.

  “He left a few minutes ago,” Junior adds. “Before I got in the shower.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” I turn my back to him, eager to put a mile of distance between us before I let that Adonis belt of his turn me extra stupid.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asks, amusement dripping off his tone. “You just got here.”

  Don’t let him bait you. Don’t turn around. Just say nothing and leave.

  I turn around and look at him, my pulse quickening at the stiff, wet strands of his dark hair poking down to his eyes.

  Extra stupid.

  “You’re naked,” I say.

  He shrugs. “I know.”

  “So… that means I should leave.”

  “If you wanted to leave, you would have left by now.”

  I twist away, spinning on my heels to take me far, far away from that throbbing magnet begging to keep me here. “Bye, Junior.”

  “Wait. Come here.”

  “I have to meet my dad.”

  “It’ll only take a minute, Ellie. I promise.”

  I pause my stride, battle raging between my head and my core. When I look back at him, he draws an X over his upper chest, slicing two lines through the moisture built up on his skin.

  “Cross my heart,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask, stalling.

  “Because I have a theory and I would like to test it.”

  “I didn’t realize you were such a science enthusiast, Junior.”

  “Just biology,” he smirks.

  I cross my arms, trying to ignore the next wave of heat coursing through me. Everything about him bleeds confidence right now and I despise him for it. Mostly because it’s working exactly how he wants. I’m pretty sure the wetness between my thighs isn’t from the steam in here.

  “Come here,” he says again. “No games, no bullshit. Just come here.”

  My feet pull me forward on their own, bridging the distance between us. As I move closer, I see the finer details of his tattoos and the water still glistening against his skin. Or is it sweat? Oh, god — who cares?

  “Touch it.”

  I snap out of it. “Huh? No—”

  “Come on, Ellie.” Junior stands up a little taller, his hooded eyes calling every bluff I have in me. “I can tell you want to. Just do it.”

  My lungs take quick, shallow breaths, never quite satisfied with the thick, locker room air. I reach out, pointing one finger, and slowly trace it over his abs.

  He flexes against my touch, protruding them even more and I can’t help but suck in my bottom lip.

  “Ellie,” he chuckles.

  I twitch. “What?”

  “I wasn’t talking about my abs.”

  My eyes jump to his and he smirks as he pulls the white towel away.

  I gasp silently at his reveal, bewitched by the stunning V-shape trailing down to his package.

  My mouth waters. A bolt of pleasure tingles my spine.

  Junior Morgan is hung like a fucking horse.

  “Touch it,” he says again, holding a hard, demanding tone.

  I lick my lips and my fingers move on instinct, drawing a line dow
n his dripping happy trail. I pause to admire his Adonis belt again but that only whips up a mental image of my tongue gliding over it and I can practically taste the clean shower water on his skin.

  I swallow and look up at him again as my fingertips reach the base of his rock hard cock.

  Junior leans forward and places both hands on the locker behind my head, trapping me between them. “Don’t worry. It won’t bite,” he teases. “Well... it might spit.”

  I bite my lip to keep from laughing. I watch him as I let my finger crawl up his base, following the trail of pulsing veins along his shaft.

  His brown irises twitch softly and a sharp inhale invades his nose. I like it. I like how much desire he breathes from a single touch and I want to hear it over again and again.

  I reach the head of his penis and I pause, holding back my own needs in favor of prolonging his.

  Junior growls softly, just barely audible behind his breath. “Ellie...” He steps forward until his wet chest presses against me and I feel his hot breath rush past my face. “You see what you do to me?”

  I nod.

  He leans closer and I feel his lips brush my cheek. “Do I do the same to you?”

  “Eliza?”

  I jolt at the sound of my father’s booming voice. “Oh, fuck!” I whisper.

  I slide to the floor and crawl away from Junior, bolting around the bench to hide behind the lockers out of sight.

  Junior follows me, calm as ever, as he wraps his towel back around his waist. “What are you doing?”

  “Eliza, are you in here?” my father calls from the doorway.

  “Hiding.”

  Junior smirks with confusion, lowering his voice to meet mine. “Why?”

  “Because if he finds me here, then I’m in deep shit.”

  “But you came in here looking for him...”

  “And I found you instead and he really doesn’t want me talking to you guys.”

  His eyes sparkle. “Really?”

  “If he finds you talking to me, he’ll make you do laps until sundown.”

  He pauses, chewing on his mouth. “Worth it.”

  “Come on, Junior—”

  “Who’s in here?”

  Junior leans down. “Go out with me tonight and I’ll tell him you’re not here.”

  My cheeks turn red, but I’m far from blushing. “Are you fucking serious?”

  He grins as my father’s shoes tap against the floor.

  I let out a seething sigh. “Fine.” I slink back, fearing the sound bounding towards us.

  Junior winks at me and turns away, strategically holding his towel together to keep Junior junior from springing out in front of his coach.

  “Hey, Coach,” I hear him say by his locker.

  “Hey, Junior.”

  I focus my ears, trying to pinpoint my father’s exact location in case I have to move but my heart is pounding so hard I can barely hear him. My fingers throb, the memory of what I was just touching still alive on them. I stuff them into my sweater pockets.

  “Have you seen Eliza?” he asks. “Bob said she came in here…”

  “Nope, haven’t seen her,” Junior says. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I was supposed to meet her for lunch today.”

  “Have you tried calling her?”

  Goddammit, Junior.

  I reach into my bag, sifting quietly through the pockets to find my phone, unsure whether I left it silenced or not.

  “I’ll try. Thanks, Junior.”

  “Anytime, Coach.”

  I sigh with relief as my fingers wrap around my phone and I flick the switch to silence it. One second later, it vibrates in my palm. Dad calling.

  I exhale until my lungs fight for air, listening to the sound of his shoes fading off towards the door.

  Junior appears over me again, his expression smug as fuck. “You’re welcome.”

  “Thanks,” I murmur.

  He offers me his hand to help me up but I push off the floor by myself. “Oh, come on…” he laughs. “Don’t be like that.”

  I hold out my ringing phone. “Have you tried calling her?” I repeat. “I had my damn ringer on.” He snatches it out of my hand and opens my contact book. “What are you doing?”

  “Adding my number for later,” he says, tapping away at the screen. Once he’s done, he passes it back. “I’ll pick you up at seven, Eliza Pierce.”

  “Fine — wait, no.”

  “Ellie…” He raises his brow. “We had a deal.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I have an audition on Friday so I’ll be rehearsing in Talon Hall tonight until eight.”

  “Ahh,” he smiles. “Then I’ll meet you there at eight.”

  “That works.”

  Junior takes a purposeful step closer to me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  He releases the strategic grip on his towel but he keeps it pinned to his waist. His cock slides out from between the ends, still hard as stone, pointing just an inch or two from my hand. “Do I do the same to you?”

  I swallow the desire down my throat. “Do you give me a raging hard-on? I can’t say I’m equipped for it.”

  “You know what I mean.” His eyes fall down my body. “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

  “You can tell?” I parrot back.

  “Oh, I can tell a lot just by looking at you, Ellie.”

  I scoff. “Like what?”

  “Like how you’re definitely not a virgin. You didn’t even flinch when I removed my towel.”

  “You found a non-virgin on a college campus?” I mock. “You’re fucking magical.”

  “You also touched me without even hesitating,” he continues. “Tells me you know exactly what to do with it and honestly, I’m dying to find out what you can do.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Fat chance.”

  He chuckles. “You also said you wouldn’t blush when you thought of me flirting with you. Did you?”

  I open my mouth to lie but my gut stops me. He’s expecting a denial but that would just prove his point and telling the truth would only vindicate him.

  “Your silence is very loud, Eliza Pierce,” he says, briefly flashing his entire groin at me as he re-wraps his towel. “Makes me wonder how loud you can be in other ways.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  “I guess we will.” He slides back towards his locker and pulls out his clothes. “You’re willing to stay and watch me get dressed, if you want.”

  “Nope.” I brush past him, catching a quick whiff of his fresh deodorant, possibly some lingering cologne in the air as well. Fuck, he smells good for a sweaty manwhore.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then. Wait…”

  I pause near the door, spinning back in a huff. “What now?”

  Junior follows me to the door, clutching his towel as he reaches for the handle. “Hang on…” He gestures for me to stand back and he opens the door, peeking out into the hallway like a professional look-out. “It’s clear. Wouldn’t want daddy to see you walking out of here, would you?”

  My lips curl on their own. “Thanks,” I say. “That’s very thoughtful.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am a little.”

  He holds the door open for me. “Get used to it.”

  I blink once, torn on whether to genuinely thank him again or issue a snarky comeback. I choose silence instead, nodding softly as I step through the doorway.

  It closes behind me and I take a deep breath of cold, crisp, air-conditioned freedom, hoping it chills the dancing nerves inside of me.

  My phone vibrates again in my hand. This time, I answer the call. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the athletic center looking for you—” I round the corner and come face-to-face with him. “And I found you!”

  He sighs and lowers his phone from his ear.

  “Sorry I missed your call,”
I say, pulling a lie right out of my ass. “I was in the ladies’ room and—”

  “Why are you wet?”

  I freeze. “What?”

  He juts his chin, gesturing down at my shirt.

  Shiiiit. Junior Morgan’s hard, moist chest imprinted on my damn blouse.

  “Oh!” I roll my eyes. “I spilled some water on me earlier. Still hasn’t dried yet…”

  He shrugs and nudges towards the stairs. “What are you in the mood for? Salad, deli sandwich?”

  I frown at his options. “Burgers.”

  Dad grins with pride. “That’s my girl.”

  Chapter 5

  Junior

  Eliza Pierce touched my dick.

  I’ve been to two classes since then but I honestly can’t tell you what happened in either one.

  All I can think about is the way she quivered when I pressed her against those lockers. Pink cheeks. Glistening, sinful eyes. If the coach hadn’t of come in at that moment, she probably would have dropped to her knees and—

  I feel a sharp punch on my shoulder, instantly bringing me out of my Eliza spiral.

  “Hey, little brother.”

  I glance up from my table and I smile. “Hey, Mag.”

  Maggie slides into the chair across from me with a cup of cart coffee in each hand. “What are you doing over here?” she asks. “You’re staring off into space like a crazy person.”

  Maggie is four years older than me but she ages so well that most people think I’m older than she is. She’s got that cutesy vibe to her, along with a child-like voice and baby-fat cheeks, so she’s always had an issue with people not taking her seriously. Luckily, she’s got me and I’m more than willing to correct anyone that even scoffs in her direction.

  “Just killing time,” I shrug, glancing around the very active student union food court. It was just coincidence that I happened to walk in here at the same time Eliza and her dad did. She hasn’t noticed me even though I’ve been gawking at them from across the room for the last twenty minutes.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Wanna talk about it?”

  And that’s Maggie. She got her degree in Psychology before I even set foot here and she’s going through the graduate program now but she’s had a thing for Freud since we were kids. She was my very own Lucy from Charlie Brown, charging me a nickel for every problem of mine she solved.