Downed (Gridiron #3)

by Jen Frederick

  “Good. I’m glad,” I say thickly. I have to clear my throat again. “You sure it’s cool that I called? I just realized we hadn’t spoken since I left town, and I thought we could catch up.”

  “No, I’m…” She sighs softly. “I’m glad you called. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.”

  In another time and another place, I might’ve offered a cocky remark in response. Something about her thinking about me naked or how all chicks think about me because I’m such a stud. But I’m a bit scared to joke around with Lucy. I don’t know where we stand these days. I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to have the kind of friendship we had before.

  “I was checking up on you,” she goes on, sounding sheepish.

  “Yeah?” I say in surprise.

  “Some light online stalking,” she admits with a laugh. “I read that you’re lighting up the defense in preseason. It sounds like it’s going really well down there.”

  “It’s all right.” I shift the phone to my other ear and lie back on my elbows, staring up at the speckled ceiling of my bedroom. I’m sharing a good-sized apartment with Carter and another receiver. Technically, it’s considered a dorm since it’s on campus, but these units are all unofficially reserved for football players. “Honestly, this school is a bit whack.”

  She laughs again. Man, I’ve missed that sound. I’ve missed my friend. “How so?”

  “Football is crazy down here, even more so than at Western. We’ve got boosters popping into the locker room to chat with the players, like they’re some VIPs who deserve private tours and face-to-faces with. The facilities are amazing, but the people are so damn weird.”

  “How so?” she asks again.

  I hesitate.

  “JR?”

  After a second, I let out a breath. “It involves a chick,” I confess. “You cool talking about that?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” She pauses, and then her voice softens. “We’re still friends, Ace. Don’t get me wrong—you screwed up royally. I might’ve even wanted to punch you in the face at one point—”

  Shame spirals through me.

  “—but you know I can’t stay mad at you.” I can totally picture the rueful shrug she’s offering me. “We have history. We grew up together. We’re friends.”

  She’s so matter-of-fact. That’s what I’ve always appreciated about this girl. She’s one of the few people who’s never been afraid to tell it to me like it is.

  “So let’s hear about this girl,” she finishes, her tone teasing.

  I heave another breath. “Okay, so I met her at one of the campus bars last night. We chat, flirt, all that jazz. She tells me to take her home. I say yes—obviously.”

  “Obviously,” Lucy says dryly.

  I smile to myself. “So we hook up, and it’s lit. Well, kind of. She’s into it at first but then gets all fucking distracted on me. So I pull out and—”

  “TMI!” Lucy objects.

  I snicker. “Seriously? This is probably the least graphic I’ve ever been.”

  “True. All right. So you stop,” she rephrases.

  “I stop,” I dutifully repeat with exaggerated politeness, “and we end up watching TV instead. I fall asleep and—”

  She interrupts me again. “You fell asleep before kicking her out?! Hold on, let me double-check my caller ID. Are we sure this is Ace Anderson?”

  My huge grin nearly cracks my face in half. Bryant was right—I’ve missed having a friend. A real friend, who truly knows me and doesn’t let me get away with shit. “I know, right? It was a first for me. But this is where things get weird. I wake up the next morning, and she informs me that we’re dating.”

  Lucy’s howl of laughter slides into my ear. “Oh my gosh. I love it.”

  “It gets worse,” I grumble. “All my teammates saw me leaving the bar with her, and now they all think we’re dating, too. And so does her father!”

  Lucy sounds confused. “How does her father even know? Did she tell him? Oh gosh! Did you meet him?”

  I swallow hard. “I met him at the beginning of the summer.” Another gulp. “He’s my coach.”

  Silence crashes over the line.

  “Lucy?”

  “Oh, Ace.” Her heavy sigh lasts about ten seconds. “You slept with your coach’s daughter?”

  “I had no idea she was his daughter,” I admit darkly. “I didn’t find out until he pulled me into his office and patted me on the shoulder to congratulate me for dating his daughter.”

  Silence.

  And then more laughter. “Are you serious?” she exclaims.

  “As a heart attack.” I sit up and rake a hand through my hair. “What the hell am I supposed to do about this? Bryant’s a cool chick, but I don’t want a relationship. I don’t date during the season.”

  “You don’t date, period,” Lucy corrects with a snort.

  “Exactly, but what do I do?” I press. “Coach said this thing with Bryant won’t affect my place on the team, but of course it will. And I don’t want a girlfriend. But this chick doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “She sounds nuts.”

  “She’s not nuts.” I say immediately, but a part of me agrees with Lucy. Bryant has decided I’m some kind of project for her, and that’s totally insane. But she’s so lovable and sweet and sexy even while being insane that I can’t help but defend her.

  “Are you sure she’s not a football groupie? A stalker?”

  “She’s not,” I reply, and I’m confident in that answer. All my teammates talk about her like she’s a goddess to be worshipped, not a hot piece of ass that they’ve tapped. By their accounts, it’s been two years since she even looked at a football player. “She’s just…weird. I told you, this school is fucking weird.”

  Lucy laughs again. “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe just…go with the flow? Let this play out and see what happens?”

  That’s her advice? Pander to a woman who may or may not be certifiable? “How do I always find myself in these situations?” I mumble.

  “Because you’re a trouble magnet,” Lucy answers. “I swear, Ace, trouble follows you wherever you go.”

  Damn. That’s a depressing thought. She might be right, though.

  “Oh shoot, I have to go,” she says suddenly. “I’ve got the bank on the other line. I’m applying to Northwestern and looking into getting a loan for—you know what, I’ll tell you all about it later. Talk tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I say easily, and I’ve barely said goodbye before she disconnects with a hasty “Bye.”

  I set the phone on the mattress and fall back on my elbows again. Okay. So that wasn’t too bad. It went well, actually. I didn’t hear any lingering resentment on Lucy’s end, and she didn’t sound angry or disgusted to hear from me. I guess Bryant was right? Maybe Lucy missed me as much as I’ve missed her.

  “…go for a run and then grab some burgers?”

  I stiffen at the sound of my roommate’s voice. I’m not dumb enough to think that Carter’s talking to me. Coach’s thinking was probably that if he put two of his best offensive weapons into one house, we’d develop some chemistry. We’re decent on field, but off of it, Carter wants nothing to do with me. In his defense, though, that’s sort of the mentality of the whole damn team.

  “Yeah, sounds good,” my other roommate answers. Zane Bettman is one of our tight ends, and he and Carter are glued at the hip.

  Their footsteps approach my door, and for one pathetic, hopeful second, I wonder if maybe this is the day they invite me to chill with them. They know I don’t have classes today. They know I haven’t had lunch yet. They—

  They’re walking away.

  I tamp down my disappointment. Yeah. Whatever. Who cares if my teammates don’t want to spend time with me? I don’t need to be their friend. I just need them to do what I fucking say on the field.

  I hear the front door open and close. Silence falls over the apartment. I consider taking a nap. Maybe studying
the playbook for a bit. The defensive schemes that the coaches believe our opponent will run on Saturday are almost too simplistic. I should go over them again to make sure I’m not missing anything.

  But I do neither of those things. Instead, I find myself thinking about Bryant and every bizarre thing she said over brunch.

  I think about how that jackass Ken or Kyle or whatever his name was had tried to apply for my position. My position as what? Her unwilling boyfriend?

  I think about her insistence that I’d make a great safety. She’s wrong, of course.

  I think about her one rule—no other girls.

  And then I think about her body—“It’s not too round?” Christ, she looked so damn cute when she asked that. And what a stupid fucking question. Her body is goddamn spectacular, all curves and valleys and smooth, touchable skin.

  My hand slides under the elastic of my sweatpants before I can stop it. My dick is an iron spike, throbbing at the memory of Bryant’s fuckable body. After a beat, I tug my sweatpants down and encircle my stiff shaft. I give it a long, slow pump, and a shiver of heat races up my spine.

  I want to screw her again. I won’t deny it. Can’t deny it. I’m so hard that my mouth is dry and my balls are drawn tight. I start stroking off in earnest, squeezing the head of my cock with each upstroke. Pre-come leaks all over my hand. My palm is sticky as it moves rapidly up and down my dick. My breathing quickens.

  Damn this girl with her crazy words and her perfect, ripe tits and the hot, tight pussy that clutched me so hard last night and—

  I come with a loud groan, grateful that my roommates aren’t around to hear it. My climax spills all over my hand and abs, my cock jerking in pleasure.

  Damn this girl.

  5

  Bryant

  “You’d love this guy, Ginny. He’s so tortured, but he has so much potential. He reminds me a bit of a wounded lion, you know? He’ll lash out when you try to help him, but not because he’s mean or evil. He’s just hurt and scared and doesn’t understand why you’re trying to pull the thorn out of his paw. But if you’re gentle and persistent, you can show him that the thorn doesn’t have to define him. The thorn can be removed and then he’ll feel better. He’ll be better. Oh, boy, I’m rambling today, aren’t I?”

  I laugh to myself, and I can almost hear Ginny giggling in return. My sister had the most beautiful laugh in the world. Every time I heard it, it was like I was suddenly engulfed by a big yellow sunbeam. Warm and wonderful.

  My spirits sink a little. Ginny’s laughter had died, and I couldn’t do anything to bring it back to life.

  I stare at my sister’s headstone, my eyes lingering on her name. Virginia Josephine Johnson. So very feminine. Momma called dibs on naming rights with my parents’ firstborn, and since my momma is a paragon of femininity, my sister was given a name suited for a southern belle.

  My daddy had naming rights for me. Bryant Johnson. I don’t even have a middle name, because daddy didn’t want to dilute the honor he was bestowing on Bear Bryant—as if Bear would even know.

  “I miss you.” And I’m still mad at you, I want to say but I keep that part to myself. She’s already gone—no sense in upsetting her up in heaven by chastising her for deserting me.

  It took me a long time to forgive her. She didn’t have to end her life. She could’ve talked to me, leaned on me, let my love heal her wounds. But Ginny was delicate like my momma. Gamma, Momma’s mother, said that there just wasn’t enough of Ginny to cope with her grief and that I should be grateful for my wide hips because my sturdiness would help keep my broken heart from killing me. Ginny would’ve rolled her eyes so hard at that statement, she woud’ve had a headache for days.

  There are still times when I don’t understand why my sister did what she did, but I try and understand. That said, I miss her like crazy. And I honor her memory however I can.

  “He doesn’t know how to treat a woman right,” I say, switching the subject back to Ace. “He’s entitled, but that’s expected when you’re dealing with quarterbacks. They believe the world revolves around them.” I smile at my sister. “I’ll teach him, though, don’t you worry.”

  The softest of honks comes from behind me. It’s more of a squeak than a honk, actually, which tells me that Kayla and Dawn feel bad about interrupting me. I check my phone and realize I’ve been here longer than the ten minutes I promised. I know my friends think it’s morbid that I visit here so often, but they love me so they put up with my crazy. They understand the importance of sisterhood. That’s the whole point of sororities. It’s not the social events, the parties, or even the inside scoops on tests and papers and whatnot. It’s the knowledge that you’re never alone when you have a sister.

  Besides, it’s not like I had much of a choice. My momma was AO and Gamma was, too. My freshman year, I made the mistake of telling Momma I was considering pledging Beta Nu instead, a more progressive sorority, and she literally clutched the pearls at her neck. I think she would have disowned me if I hadn’t pledged Alpha Omega.

  “I have to go,” I tell Ginny. “The girls and I are on our way to a charity bake sale. I made apple tarts—your favorite.” A lump rises in my throat. “I’ll come see you again next week. I bet I’ll have lots of JR updates for you. He hasn’t told me what JR stands for yet, but I’m sure I’ll get it out of him soon. Bye, sis. Love you.”

  I blow a kiss at Ginny’s headstone and hurry over to Kayla’s Mercedes.

  “Sorry,” I say as I slide into the backseat. “The time got away from me.”

  “It’s all good,” Dawn answers, twisting around from the passenger side to look at me. “You tell her about your new project?”

  I nod. “Of course.”

  “Good. So now you can tell us,” Kayla teases as she starts the car. “You’ve been too secretive about this one and that needs to change.”

  I grin. “I haven’t been secretive. I just haven’t quite figured him out yet.”

  “It’s not hard,” Dawn says dryly. “From all accounts, he’s a sleaze.”

  “Yeah, you picked a tough one,” Kayla agrees. “I was checking out the AO forum last night and there were a ton of posts about Ace from sisters at our Western State chapter.”

  I nod again. I looked at those forums, too. I saw a lot of “ASSHOLE! STAY AWAY!” and “This guy fucked me and then never spoke to me again” warnings. But that’s the way it is with these guys, and if no one takes the time to teach them the right way to treat a woman, one day in the future they’ll crush someone like Ginny who won’t be able to recover. So, warnings aside, I’m not giving up on Ace.

  And truth be told, I truly didn’t sense a lack of respect when I was with him last night. He was attentive to my needs. He was honest about his intentions. There’s something redeemable about him. I'm sure of it.

  “Either way, I call dibs on him when you’re done,” Dawn announces, grinning at me in the rearview mirror.

  “What about me?” Kayla interjects. “I’ve dated three duds in a row. If anyone deserves a Bryant reject, it’s me.”

  I lean forward and pat her shoulder. “You’ll find the right one.”

  “No, you should give me the right one,” she replies. “And I’ll take Ace. It’s unfair that Greg Betton went to that Delta girl! All your boys should end up with one of us AOs.”

  “Now, Kayla, you know I can’t control that. Love goes where it needs to go.” I slide back into my seat.

  “Why can’t you put a good word in for me while you’re correcting Ace’s behavior?” she asks.

  Dawn flicks Kayla’s arm. “Stop whining—I haven’t had a relationship since sophomore year. So if anyone is more deserving, it’s me.” She twists around to look at me. “I wonder if he’s good in bed. He must be or the sisters up in Western State would never have kept sleeping with him. God, he’s hot.” She fans a hand in front of her face

  “Truth. I nearly orgasmed when he grabbed Carlene’s asshole ex by the collar,” Kayla says.

&n
bsp; “Right? I mean, he can’t be that bad?” Dawn directs this last question toward me.

  I shrug. “I know as much as you do. We’ve all read the same stuff and heard the stories. He’s a dog, and he tends to flit from one woman to another without much regard for her feelings, but we also saw him stand up for a stranger. I’m sure there are other hidden depths to him that need teasing to the surface.” I don’t share that I found him unusually perceptive in the bedroom.

  Making love with Ace is an extraordinary departure from my usual set of behaviors, and I haven’t quite worked out what it all means. I’m terribly attracted to him, but my program is a catch and release one, not a catch and keep. Until I can figure out my exact path forward, I’m not sharing those particularly intimate details with my sisters—not even Ginny.

  Dawn twists to face the front again and rests her head against the back of the seat. “He’s got the biggest hands. His dick must be enormous.”

  Kayla nods. “I swear I saw an outline of it the other night and it was fine. And his lips—I wanted to bite them.”

  A twinge of pain zips through my arms and I look down to see that I’ve clenched my fingers together so tightly that I’ve hurt myself. Kayla and Dawn can’t stop rhapsodizing about Ace’s physical features, and for some reason, that really bothers me. I mean, it’s not like I plan to keep Ace, but do they need to spend so much time talking about his private parts?

  “Hey, what’s our charity goal again?” I ask in an attempt to divert their attention.

  “Five thousand,” Kayla says immediately.

  “It’s an impossible goal,” Dawn moans.

  “We should start charging more for pies. They take a lot of time to make, and since it’s for charity I don’t see why we aren’t jacking the prices up.”

  “That’s not a bad idea.” Dawn makes a note in her phone. “Maybe we can charge forty a pie and cake and maybe fifteen or twenty for a dozen cookies.”

  I let the rest of the conversation about baked-good pricing swirl around me while I try to figure out why in sweet heaven I felt annoyed by my very best girlfriends talking about one of my projects. Because that’s all Ace is to me—a project. An asshole to be made into a gentleman who won’t drive precious girls to take their own lives out of grief.