Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  “You like her.”

  I shake my head at Maggie across the table and chew a little more on my straw. “No — what, who?”

  “Whatever girl you have in your head right now,” she says. “Whoever she is, she’s stealing away my sacred Sunday lunch date with my little brother.”

  I set the empty cup down. “Sorry, Mag. Just a bit distracted.”

  “Yeah, no shit,” she chuckles. “I expected Annoyingly Self-Confident Junior today after that win last night, not Oddly Pensive Junior. What’s her name?”

  “There’s no her.” I look down at the table and Maggie gasps, quickly bringing my eyes back to her stunned face. “What?”

  “What’s his name?” she asks, feigning worry.

  I glare at her. “It’s not that either.”

  She deflates in disappointment. “Well, there’s someone out there putting you in a tizzy and I want to know who it is.”

  “I am not in a tizzy...” I sigh, knowing that Maggie will play this game all day unless I give her something. “Okay, maybe a little tizzy.”

  “What happened?”

  “I slept with her.”

  “So?”

  “Like, literally. In bed, fully-clothed... sleep.”

  Maggie reaches across the table to lay a comforting hand on mine. “Junior...” she whispers, “was there spooning?”

  “There might definitely have been some spooning.”

  “Did you like it?”

  I close my eyes, instantly recalling the warmth of Eliza’s body lying beside mine. “A lot.”

  Maggie clears her throat, forcing the obvious cackle back down into her lungs. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I shake her hand off. “Don’t do that, Mag.”

  She sits back, fighting the grin. “My little brother, all grown up and entering exclusive relationships—”

  “We are not exclusive,” I stop her. “We’re just having fun. Last night was an accident.”

  “Last night?!”

  I growl, realizing I’ve already revealed too much. There’s no going back now. I tossed a fierce kitten a loose thread and she won’t stop until she’s through unraveling it with her claws. “I came straight here from her place.”

  “So, instead of partying with the team last night, you went over to see her?”

  “We had plans but she got sick and canceled. I wanted to see if she was okay.”

  “Did you bring soup?” she asks, leaning forward with wide eyes. “Please tell me you brought her soup.”

  “I didn’t bring her soup.” I pause. “I brought her coffee.”

  “Junior...” Maggie smiles. “You like her.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Junior...” She gives her voice a hard edge. “I know like her when I see it and you like her.” I sit back and sigh with annoyance. “It’s okay to like her. Why are you so embarrassed?”

  “I’m not embarrassed. And no, it’s not okay to like her. Not this one.”

  She chews on that for a moment. “Have you been having fun with anyone else since you first had fun with her?”

  “No,” I admit.

  “Has she?”

  “I hope not. I mean...” I give a passive shrug, reacting to Maggie’s twisted smirk. “I don’t know, not that I care...”

  “Hate to break it to you, little brother, but you are one very specific conversation away from being in an exclusive relationship with this girl.”

  “She wouldn’t go for it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because... we’re not allowed to see each other.”

  “Not allowed?” she mocks. “What is she, a Capulet?”

  “No. She’s a Pierce.”

  “A Pier — Pierce?!” Her eyes blink a dozen times. “As in the new football coach, Pierce?”

  I gesture for her to lower her voice. “As in his daughter, Eliza, yes. He doesn’t want anyone on the team involved with her but we kind of... rebelled.”

  “Wait — she’s really pretty.”

  I note her confused eyes. “This shocks you?”

  “No, I’m just surprised you have actual taste.”

  “Mag, I’ve been telling you about banging hot girls since I was in high school.”

  “There is a huge difference between the hot girl and the pretty girl, little brother. The hot girl you brag about to your friends. The pretty girl you take home to meet Mom.”

  I shake my head. “No one’s going home to meet Mom. Wait, how do you know she’s pretty?”

  “Nate and I always go to theatre department showcases every few weeks,” she explains. “I noticed her name popping up in the programs this year and she is very hard not to notice up there. She’s really talented.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve seen her perform?”

  I hesitate, imagining the exact expression my response will bring. “I help her run lines.”

  Maggie’s jaw drops in slow motion, the edges of her lips curling into a maniacal grin. “You help her memorize her lines?!”

  “Mag...”

  “That’s so cute!”

  “Stop it. She helps me with my math homework. It’s an even trade.”

  “I thought you said you two were just having fun.”

  “It’s a little more than just having fun. Can we drop this, please?”

  “Okay,” she says, giggling behind her soda cup.

  “So…” I stare Maggie down. “You go to all the theatre showcases but you’ve never once been to one of my games?”

  She winces, dropping her grin. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that…” I laugh and she slaps her hand on the table between us. “Oh, speaking of Mom — her birthday is next Sunday. I was thinking we could head over there and see her instead of coming here…?”

  “Fine by me,” I say. “Want me to pick you up?”

  Her face contorts. “Um, no. I will pick you up and we’ll take my car. There’s no way I’m getting in that shag wagon of yours.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Anyway…” She grabs her purse off the back of her chair. “I need to stop by the campus bookstore. Wanna tag along?”

  “No,” I answer. “I have some homework to do, I think…”

  “I’ll see you next week then.” She stands up but quickly pauses. “You haven’t dragged Eliza into that van, have you?” Her nose scrunches up her face like a withering sponge.

  I hesitate. “Well…”

  “Ugh…” She doesn’t even try to hide her disgust. “You’re lucky she even likes you at all…”

  “I tell myself that every day.”

  “Bye, little brother.”

  “Bye, Mag — Wait. You think she likes me?”

  She grins down at me. “Have you thought of asking her that?”

  I shake my head. “We’re not allowed to be together.”

  “It kind of sounds like you already are, Junior.”

  She squeezes my shoulder as she passes by and I sit back to absorb the situation.

  Eliza has been pretty clear from the start that this isn’t serious. It can’t be. That’s rule number one. We hang out, we have sex, we study and read lines. No emotions necessary. No need to second guess anything we say or do because it’s all on the surface. I scratch her back, she scratches mine. It’s a nice arrangement.

  But then why did I rush over there like that last night? Why did she even let me in? Why didn’t either of us complain when we were cuddling on her bed?

  Because you’re dating her, you fucking moron.

  I reach for my phone, instinct driving for me to call her but I drop it back down. I don’t even know what I’d say to her. I just want to hear her voice.

  Shit. I really do like her. No, that’s not enough.

  I’m fucking crazy about her.

  ***

  I park my van and step outside into the driveway. I don’t even remember how I got here. I’ve been stuck in my head since lunch, ob
sessing over the possibility of having the talk with Eliza Pierce that I arrived home completely on auto-pilot.

  At this point, I’ve managed to talk myself into believing that Eliza feels the same way about me as I do about her. There’s something in her smile, something so beautiful and comforting, that there must be more than just casual friendliness behind it. No girl has ever looked at me like that before — at least, none that I’ve noticed as much as her.

  I step onto the porch and the front door opens before I reach it.

  “Good morning, Lover Boy.”

  Grant pops it closed behind him and I stare at him with confusion.

  “Grant…? You looking for Eliza?”

  He grins. “Nope.”

  I furrow my brow. “So…”

  “Don’t think too hard about it,” he says, flashing a quick wink. He taps my cheek with his palm as he passes and I stand still for several moments while he half-skips to his car parked on the street.

  Okay, then.

  I step inside the house and run right into Ty’s worrisome face.

  “Hey,” he says, his eyes shifting from mine to the street outside.

  “Relax, man. Grant’s a cool guy.”

  I give his shoulder a reassuring pat as I pass by him into the living room and he stares at me as I plop down onto the couch.

  “Rough night?” he asks, letting the tension fall from his shoulders.

  I shake my head. “No, it was perfect.”

  “Then why do you look like someone sucker punched you in the nads?”

  I stare at the ceiling. There’s a word on my tongue. I don’t think I’ve ever used it in this context before but I might as well test drive it now.

  “I’m in love with Eliza.”

  My body twinges for a second, jolting at the mere mention of the word but I settle just as quickly. Somehow, I feel lighter and better off than I was before, like an overdue, cathartic shock to the system.

  “Shit, dude,” Ty chuckles. “You just now figure that out?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I could have told you that.”

  I look up at him. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

  “Do you feel bad about it?”

  I let a moment pass by. “No.”

  “Then what’s wrong — other than the obvious she’s Cary Pierce’s daughter part?”

  “Shit…” I sigh. “This is bad.”

  “You didn’t seem all that concerned about it before when it was just sex.”

  “Well, I can do sex.” Words fall out of me with little thought. “I like sex. Sex and I are buddies. Being in love is something else entirely.”

  “Is it, though?” he asks, tilting his head.

  I blink. “Isn’t it?”

  “You sure you’re not just over-thinking this?”

  “Probably — but I can’t stop over-thinking about it. I mean… what do I do now? Do I tell her? How do I talk to her? How do I act around her? Do we stop having sex? Do we have more sex?”

  “Okay, yeah. You’re definitely over-thinking it.” He turns towards the kitchen. “I’m going to put on some coffee and then we’re going to talk this out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I look straight ahead as he wanders out of the room, once again spiraling down into a labyrinth of what-ifs and maybes. What if Eliza doesn’t love me back? Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. I was so sure just five minutes ago that she wanted me but now I’ve dropped anchor right back to square one.

  Fuck. This love thing kind of sucks.

  “Junior…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Whatever you decide — just don’t fuck it up,” he warns from the doorway. “We’re on track for the championship this year and I would very much like for that to happen.”

  “Me, too.”

  He disappears into the other room again, leaving me crushed and nauseous. Maybe I caught Eliza’s stomach bug last night after all. Or maybe I just can’t deal with the fact that she’s Cary Pierce’s daughter and I have no business falling in love with her. We can’t be together the way I want us to be.

  But that hasn’t stopped us so far.

  Chapter 22

  Eliza

  I feel strange.

  Almost broken, in a way. Except there’s nothing shattered or missing. There’s something new inside, pushing the usual formation out of place like a pebble shaking around in my shoe.

  A pebble. It’s probably smaller than that, actually — if it even exists at all. Just thinking about it gives me a stress headache. How can something so small mean so much so quickly?

  “When is it due?”

  I snap up from my book to find Junior staring across the table at me. “What?”

  He smiles and taps his pencil against my book. “The scene. When do you need to have it memorized?”

  “Oh, um…” I rub the bridge of my nose. “Next Thursday, I think.”

  “Are you okay? You seem strange.”

  “I’m fine,” I say. “No strangeness. Just tired, I guess.” I point to his notebook. “Have you finished that proof?”

  “Yup.” Junior slides it over to me and I pick up my pencil to check his work. “What are you doing this weekend?”

  “I have rehearsal on Saturday…” I mutter, glancing over the page. “This looks good, Junior. Try the next one.”

  He takes the notebook back but sets it off to the side. “What are you doing afterward?”

  I pause, noting the intensity of his stare. “I have no plans. Why?”

  “I want you to come by my place,” he says. “There’s no game this weekend and Ty is making himself scarce for a while.”

  “Okay…” I sit back, taking the bait. “Scarce for what?”

  He gives a little smile. “I just want you to stop by for something.”

  “Stop by for what?” I raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

  “I want to talk to you about something.”

  “But we’re talking right now…”

  “Ellie…” he chuckles. “This isn’t really library study room talk.”

  “Oh.” My gut lurches. “Is everything okay?”

  “It should be…”

  “What does that mean?”

  He sighs but that nervous flicker never quite leaves his eyes. “Come over after rehearsal and we’ll talk, okay? Please?”

  I bite my lip. Junior’s invitations aren’t usually so wordy. Coming over tonight? That’s about all he ever needs to say to make his intentions known and I never expect talking to be on the agenda.

  Is he breaking things off? Is he inviting me over to dump me? Wait, that doesn’t make any sense. If he didn’t want to hook up anymore, then he’d just stop talking to me altogether, right?

  Maybe he feels like he has to put in the extra effort because of what happened last weekend. He woke up in my bed after holding me all night. I imagine that was quite the shock for him — it certainly was for me. Not quite as shocking as my bathroom realization directly afterward but still…

  “Ellie?”

  “Okay,” I finally answer. “Yeah, I’ll stop by.”

  He smiles. “Good.”

  “There’s, uh…” I fall silent, thinking better of it. I shouldn’t bring it up at all yet. I don’t know anything concrete. I’m still in stomach bug territory. I’m not—

  “What?” he asks.

  But I owe it to him to mention the possibility, right?

  “There’s something I need to talk to you about, too.”

  He raises his brow. “Everything okay?”

  I nod. “Oh, yeah. It’s just not…”

  “Library study room talk?”

  “Right.”

  “Then I won’t worry about it until Saturday,” he says, grabbing his notebook.

  “Well, I mean… there’s nothing to worry about, really… Unless you think I should be worried about something…?”

  “No. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

  “Good.” I tap my p
encil on the table, feeling even stranger than I did before.

  Junior Morgan invited me over to talk. Come to think of it, he hasn’t tried to kiss or grope me since he walked in here.

  Does he already know?

  No, that’s impossible. There’s no way he could know before I do. But why else would he be treating me so differently?

  I pick up my book to read over my lines again but the words on the page are just a faded blur.

  This is fine. I can compartmentalize this. Junior seems to be able to. He’s focusing on his math homework. I can do that until Saturday, too. No problem. That’s only three days away. That’s nothing.

  This is totally fine.

  ***

  I’ve stood on this porch several dozen times already. Each time, it’s always been a rush to get inside before someone drives by and recognizes me but now…

  I hesitate.

  I associate the other side of Junior Morgan’s door with two things: orgasms and more orgasms.

  Tonight, I have no idea what to expect because tonight I’m going to tell Junior Morgan that I might be pregnant with his child.

  I exhale hard. Even thinking it knocks the wind out of me.

  I roll my fingers into a fist, preparing to knock, but the door swings open before I get the chance.

  “Hey, Ellie.”

  Junior smiles at me and I pause.

  His hair is combed and perfect — not the usual rugged, post-shower tuft I’m used to. He shaved, too. And recently. I can smell the aftershave from two feet away. And… I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in that sweater before. Did he iron his jeans?

  “Hey…” I say.

  Junior steps to the side to invite me in and I have to force my feet to move into the living room. It’s usually a mess — exactly what you’d expect from two college guys — but it’s been completely straightened up and… Is that air freshener I smell?

  He closes the door and takes my hand, sending a quick shiver from my palm to my shoulder. “Come with me.”

  He opens the door to his room and my mouth sags. It’s even more spotless than the living room. The laundry is folded and put away. The trash can is empty. The bed is made. His desk is clear.

  And candles. Scented ones.

  “Junior, what’s going on?”