Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  “There’s nothing to talk about yet,” I claim.

  “But we’re almost two weeks into the semester,” she argues. “Surely, you have some girl problem to throw at me.”

  I feel Eliza’s phantom touch on my cock and my eyes twitch across the room at her. The coach says something and she laughs back at him, although I can’t really tell if it’s genuine or forced. “I have a date tonight,” I say. “Maybe I’ll have something for you at lunch on Sunday.”

  Maggie rubs her palms together. “Ooh, a date tonight? With whom?”

  “Wait until Sunday, Mag,” I tease.

  She sits back in disappointment. “Fine. Here—” Her hand slides the second coffee across the table at me. “You can have this. Nate was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago but he’s not here yet, so it’s forfeited to you.”

  “Thanks.” I palm the cup, letting the warmth tickle my fingers. “What’s he up to nowadays?”

  “Same old, same old,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes.

  I laugh. Maggie met Nate three days into her freshman year and they’ve been dating ever since. They’re ridiculously happy together and possibly the very definition of relationship goals but Maggie secretly wishes she’d experimented a little before latching onto him so fast. That’s why she grills me about all my hook-ups at our weekly Sunday lunches — she lives vicariously through my many, many mistakes.

  My eyes float to Eliza again and a shock teases my system. She’s looking right at me but she quickly looks away the second we make eye contact.

  “Is that the new coach?” Maggie asks, pointing across the room at their table.

  “Yeah, that’s him.” I shift my gaze to him instead. “You should have heard the squeal in Dad’s voice when I told him who my new coach was…”

  “I can imagine,” she chuckles, taking a sip from her coffee. “Who’s the girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I force a shrug, feeling the rush of words filling my throat. Talking to Maggie about my problems is just about the only good habit I have but I don’t want her analyzing Eliza Pierce right now. “Look, I gotta get going. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  “Bye, little brother.”

  “Bye, Mag.” I slide the untouched coffee back over to her and she takes it to give to Nate.

  I tell myself not to look at Eliza as I make my way for the exit but my eyes get drawn to her anyway like a damn moth to a flame. Apparently, she has the same problem. She watches me walk away and I’m pretty sure her eyes flick downward at least once to check me out.

  I smile. Tonight, I’ll have her pinned again. Tonight, I’ll feel her body quiver against—

  “Hey—”

  I walk right into some guy and he drops his textbook to the floor.

  “Watch it, dick,” he spits at me, quickly bending over to grab his stuff.

  “Sorry,” I say. I keep my head down and bolt out the exit, just knowing that Eliza’s piercing blues caught the entire thing.

  First that tackle at practice and now this…

  If I could stop embarrassing myself in front of Eliza Pierce… that’d be great.

  ***

  I open the door to Talon Hall and quickly realize that I’ve never actually been in here before.

  Talon is exclusively for the more artsy majors like theatre and music, so I’ve never had a reason to go in. Meeting up, and possibly hooking up, with Eliza Pierce is more than a good enough reason to go in now so I’ll risk the embarrassment of being seen. Although, I doubt I’ll be seen by anyone important in this crowd.

  After a few minutes of wandering the huge lobby, I make it to the double doors of the auditorium. My ears perk up to the sound of echoing voices inside and I instantly recognize Eliza’s deep, yet wickedly feminine, tone.

  Then the voices get louder and I pause, realizing that she’s arguing with some guy.

  I pull open the auditorium doors. She’s up on the stage, her face contorted with anger and sadness as this punk screams at her. He’s tall, nearly as fit as I am, and perfectly capable of hurting her if he wants to.

  “Do you see what you did, eh?! You made a fool outta me.”

  “I’m sorry!” she cries. “I don’t know how many times I can say it…”

  I step faster, bounding up towards the stage.

  “Say it again,” he challenges. “Say it like you mean it this time or so help me—” He grabs her arm and she winces with pain.

  “You’re hurting me!”

  “Good!”

  “Hey!” I launch up onto the stage and step between them, forcing the guy away from Eliza with a hard push with my palm. “Leave her alone.”

  He looks at Eliza and they both burst into laughter.

  “It’s okay, Junior…” Eliza guides me away from him. “We’re just rehearsing a scene.”

  “And I guess we nailed it,” the guy nods, his tone suddenly soft as clouds. “Finally.”

  “I told you we needed to make it more aggressive,” she says to him.

  “Wait…” My eyes bounce between them. “That wasn’t real?”

  “No,” he says, “but that sudden burst of powerful masculinity certainly was…” He rubs my shoulders and his hand lingers for a second too long.

  I pause, trapped between extreme embarrassment and awful confusion.

  Eliza clears her throat. “Junior, this is Grant. I doubt you’ve met before.”

  “Not officially,” Grant confirms. He glances me up and down once before looking back at Eliza. “Anyway, I’m going to call it a night. You two have fun — but not too much. That’s my job.” He winks as he bends over to grab his backpack off the floor.

  “Bye, Grant,” she says.

  He hops off the stage and heads for the hallway exit, giving Eliza plenty of time to stare me down, amusement bleeding from her eyeballs.

  “Now that we have the unsolicited chivalry portion of tonight’s events out of the way—”

  “Hey—” I defend. “Anyone could have walked in here and got the same idea I did.”

  “I know,” she chuckles. “Grant and I are auditioning for the leads in the fall play, so we’re pulling out all the stops — the more intense, the better.”

  I study her face. Her cheeks are still pulsing red but her eyes show absolutely nothing of the fear I saw before. One snap of her fingers and it’s all gone, almost as if it never existed at all. “You all right?”

  She waves her hand and bends over to grab a bottle of water from her bag. “I’m fine. The adrenaline will wear off soon.”

  I take a breath, feeling my own bit of adrenaline firing through me. The way I leapt up there to defend her… I’ve never done that before. I’m not sure how I feel about it, honestly.

  “So… you have a tryout?”

  Eliza laughs mid-sip, nearly spilling water down her chin. “I have an audition.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  She pauses for a moment. “Nothing, I guess.” Her head tilts as she slips her messenger bag onto her shoulder. “Come to think of it, there’s really not much of a difference between what you do and what I do at all.”

  I glance around at the stage. Red curtains and a grand piano. “It’s completely different…” I argue.

  “How?”

  I smirk. “I play football, Ellie.”

  “So?”

  “So…” I shake my head. “One is football and the other is… a little performance on a stage.”

  Her face twists. “Isn’t that what football is?”

  “No,” I argue. “Sports are about strategy and anticipating the opponent’s move before it even happens. I have to train hard to do what I do.”

  She scoffs, crossing her arms. “And I don’t?”

  I stand up taller. There’s no way I’m wrong about this. “I’m in the gym five times a week.”

  “So am I. You’re going to stand there and argue that actors aren’t scrutinized over every bit of their appearance? Pound for pound, I’m probably judged more
than you are.”

  “Okay…” I blink, yanked off course by the logic in her reasoning. “But my team counts on me to be in shape. I have to be where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there, or we don’t win.”

  “I have to hit every cue, memorize every word of my lines plus everyone else’s,” she says, her voice steady as a rock. “I have to live and breathe this place for weeks before opening night because if I don’t, then everyone will notice every missed step, every skipped line, and my crew will judge me for it — same as you. You memorize a few plays, you stand out in the field every weekend, and you perform for the crowd. It’s the same thing.”

  “But people respect and admire what I do a lot more than what you do,” I bite.

  Eliza smiles. “Hate to break it to you, Junior, but this auditorium is always sold out. Can you say the same for that stadium out there?”

  I open my mouth to argue but nothing comes out. My throat clenches shut, smacked down into submission with the slightest crack of her tongue.

  “It’s the audience that gives it life, isn’t it?” she continues, her tone much softer. Almost comforting, as if she’s nursing a wound. “Grant and I were just rehearsing until you walked in and made it real. Without the crowd out there screaming you on, it’s just a scrimmage, am I right?”

  Total fucking whiplash. “Right…”

  She grins at me again and offers me her bottle of water. “See? Not so different.”

  I take the water, feeling a sudden, dry thirst. “Yeah,” I concede. I twist the cap off and drink a hard sip.

  “By the way… thanks for programming your name into my phone as Big Dick Morgan because that wouldn’t be difficult to explain to my dad or anything…”

  I crack up the instant she says it. “It was funny. You laughed, admit it.”

  “You’re an ass.” She narrows her eyes. “I might have tittered. A little.”

  “I’ll take it.” I hand the bottle back to her. “Shall we?”

  “Depends on where we’re going.”

  “I have a few off-campus ideas,” I tease. “It won’t get back to the coach, I promise.”

  “You sure?” she asks.

  I draw an X across my chest. “Cross my heart.”

  Her eyes fall to my body and I know she’s thinking about earlier. Hell, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since her finger touched my dick. I nearly jerked off the second she left the locker room but I didn’t in favor of saving it for tonight in case she touches it again.

  Who am I kidding? Of course, she’s going to touch it again tonight.

  I’m Junior fucking Morgan.

  “Let’s go,” I say, smiling at the thought of her fingers wrapped around it.

  Chapter 6

  Eliza

  We step outside into the quad. It’s highly populated tonight, full of people enjoying the warm evening, hanging out and having fun. I pull the hood of my sweater over my head and slide my sunglasses on. The sun is long gone but I can’t risk being seen out with Junior. I even slow down to keep at least two paces behind him on the sidewalk.

  Junior spins around and walks backward with his eyes on me. “Ellie, what the hell are you doing?” he asks, smiling wide.

  “Turn back around,” I snap.

  “You look like you’re casing the place.”

  “I’m not casing, I’m being cautious.” He stops suddenly and I collide with his thick chest, nearly knocking the sunglasses off my nose. “Junior—”

  “Eliza Pierce!” he shouts. “Watch where you’re going, lady!”

  I jump back, putting several feet of distance between us. “Knock it off!”

  “See?” He gestures around. “Not a single person looked up.”

  I hide under my hood, annoyance spiking inside.

  This was a horrible idea from the start. I should have just spoken up in the locker room when Dad came in. Then I could have avoided this whole damn thing.

  “Hey…” Junior takes a step back and tilts down to try and find my eyes. “I’m sorry, all right? That was kinda dickish.”

  “Living up to your name, Big Dick Morgan.”

  “There she is!” he laughs. “Look, I’m parked in G lot. We can split up and you can meet me there, if you want.”

  I straighten up and slide my glasses off. “No, it’s okay. I’ll walk with you.”

  He pauses, staring down at me with soft, concerned eyes. “You’re really freaked out by the idea of the coach finding out about this…”

  “I just don’t want to get on his bad side.”

  “He doesn’t…” Junior goes quiet, hesitating his words. “You know… hurt you on this bad side, does he?”

  I shake my head. “No. God, no. Never. He can just be… difficult, I guess. He and I have been getting along pretty well lately. I just don’t want to…”

  “Rock the boat,” he nods.

  “Right.”

  “Well…” He clears his throat and smiles at me. “Now I feel kinda bad about coercing you into going out with me tonight.”

  I can’t tell whether or not he means it. His face still shines with that cocky confidence but his voice sounds sincere enough. “I could have told you to fuck off anytime, Junior.”

  “You certainly could have…” he leans in a little, “but you didn’t.”

  I flash back to him in that towel, remembering the pained lust in his voice when he leaned into me and how long it took for my fingers to stop vibrating after I touched him. “I suppose you’re about to enlighten me with what that tells you about me…”

  His lips curl. “Oh, Ellie, I think you’re already well-aware of what that says about you.”

  He’s so damn sure he’s getting laid tonight. It’s almost cute. “G lot, you said?”

  We walk the rest of the way in silence and I keep a constant watch around us, darting around from face-to-face for anyone that might know my father.

  Junior’s car sits in the corner of G lot and I start to relax more and more with each step we take from the high-populated campus hangouts.

  I pause as we approach the vehicle, genuinely wondering whether or not he’s messing with me. It’s an old, white mini-van.

  “This is your car?”

  Junior grins. “You’re definitely new around here if you’ve never heard of the Junior-mobile.”

  I blink. “The Junior-mobile?”

  “I didn’t name it,” he claims. “The team did.”

  “And what’s so special about the Junior-mobile?”

  He grabs the side door and slides it open. “Take a look.”

  I step closer, instantly noticing the lack of seats inside. It’s been completely modified, leaving the front seats intact but everything else has been stripped out and replaced with an air mattress on the floor — along with a few thick pillows and a wrinkled comforter. The windows are tinted and I notice a string of soft, blue lights pinned to the ceiling to set the mood.

  I roll my eyes. “I’m not getting in this thing!”

  “Why not?” he laughs.

  “Because I’m clean and I want to keep it that way. God knows what diseases are lingering all over the walls…”

  “It’s perfectly safe and clean… just like me, by the way.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Play your cards right and you’ll be the first classy lady to grace the backseat this semester.”

  I feign a gasp. “The great Junior Morgan hasn’t gotten laid yet this semester?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he grins. “I said you’d be the first one in the backseat.”

  I cross my arms and lean against the open door. “So, how does this whole player persona work for you?”

  “Player persona?”

  “Yeah,” I continue. “You pick out a girl, drag her to the old Junior-mobile, score a touchdown or two, and then what? Sayonara, lady? Hope we don’t randomly bump into each other again?”

  “You sound surprised, Ellie,” he notes. “I thought all of us wer
e dirty, cheating, lying scoundrels.”

  “Don’t you ever feel bad about it?”

  “I’ve never been dishonest to a girl to get her in here,” he says. “I’ve never led anyone on, made a promise I didn’t keep, or done anything particularly shady to get laid. I make it clear from the beginning what I want and I’ve done the same with you.”

  “Is that all this is?” I ask. “After tonight, you’re just hoping to scratch another notch into your floorboards?”

  Junior chews on his bottom lip. “Honestly, yes.”

  I scoff and push off the door, unable to hide my disgust. “Wow…”

  “Ellie…” He takes a step forward. “Don’t even pretend like you’re not interested.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.”

  He drifts in so close, I start to smell his cologne again. I ease back but quickly find myself leaning against the van, struggling inside between smacking him or accidentally stumbling inside.

  “I’ll tell you what…” he says, “I’ll give you another shot to tell me to fuck off. Then you can leave and I’ll never bother you again. Cross my heart. But…” He places his hands on the van door, pinning me to it just like he pinned me to the lockers and a rush of heat strikes my core. “If there is any chance at all that you want me as much as I want you, then you’ll get in the van and we’ll continue our little date like normal. Don’t lie. I can tell.”

  My eyes fall down his body, drawn to his groin as if I’ll see his cock again; hard and throbbing for me. I close them, embracing the darkness as I feel him drift closer.

  “Ellie…”

  Holy shit. I love the way he says that.

  “… say you’ll stay. With me.”

  His lips graze my cheek, angling close to my mouth but they never quite connect, leaving a hair’s distance between us.

  This fucking guy. He’s baiting me and it’s working, but I don’t want to be just another notch in Junior Morgan’s dirty van floorboards.

  The bitch of it is that I don’t want to leave either. I want that cock from earlier; the one I touched and fantasized about. I want to watch his tattooed body towering over me, thrusting me into oblivion while I cry out in blissful agony and a man like him knows exactly how to make that happen.