by Nacole Mills
"WHAT?!?" Brent screamed, jumping forward with his eyes wide-set and staring, "Five in one game? Aren’t they playing anyone else?"
Morgan gently took the container of Happy Family from Brent and set it on the table in front of him. "Try not to worry," she said with a soothing voice, "He's crap next to you. You're sure to keep that record."
But Brent said nothing in return. For the rest of the game, the lovers sat side by side and silent, watching things play out. The Blue Kraits were destroying the other team, beating them 40-7. It was almost embarrassing to watch, but Morgan could not tear her eyes away. She ate her order of bean curd without thinking or really even tasting it, but she seemed to be hyper aware of Brent's tense form on the couch next to her.
The game ended with two more touchdowns scored by Levitt. Morgan glanced over and she saw Brent's face looking stone-like. The announcer came over the broadcast and said, "You are watching history, folks! Erik Levitt had just TIED the record for most touchdowns earned in a season! He currently ties running back Brent Larson of the Caimans."
A pretty blonde interviewer popped up on the screen next. "I'm here with Erik Levitt, who has just tied that record. Mr. Levitt, how are you feeling?"
And there stood Levitt, looking as massive as ever. The very image of the hulk of a man standing next to the reporter took Morgan's breath away. She had not gotten a good look at him in the bar, but she saw him now and he frightened her. "I'm feeling great," he said into the microphone, smiling from ear to ear. The smile made his ugly face and bald head contort in a strange way that Morgan wanted to look away from. "What a day!"
"Have you got anything else to--"
Levitt cut off the interviewer by tearing the microphone from her hand. "I want to thank god, and my Momma for always believing in me. Momma always told me that I would be great, but I think that, if she was still alive today, that she would be proud."
Morgan could hear Brent grinding his teeth next to her. "His mom is still alive," he grunted through his clenched jaw.
"I'm just looking forward to the epic showdown next week when we take on the Caimans." Levitt looked straight at the camera, and Morgan felt like he was looking right at her and Brent, as though he knew that they were watching. "I'm coming for you, Larson, and I'm coming for that record! I'll see you on the field."
Levitt shoved the mic back into the interviewer's hand and ran off to join the rest of the celebrating team. Morgan had no words for what she just saw, and it seemed that the blonde interviewer was at a loss, too.
When Brent screamed a scream that was full of rage and frustration, it made Morgan jump. Brent jumped up and grabbed the end of the coffee table, flipping it on its side. The room was showered with leftover Chinese food and half-drunk beers, and Morgan gasped, trying to make herself small on the couch. She had never seen Larson, a man who always seemed so easy going all of the time, react in such a way.
Larson began pacing around the room. Morgan watched him as his muscles bulged and flexed with pent up rage. He was angry, angrier than she had ever seen. "He thinks that he can best me on a national level. Well, he's got another thing coming!"
"Brent... baby..."
But Larson did not hear her. He stomped off toward his home gym, and Morgan jumped up to follow him. He was already stretching when she got in there, and she stood in the doorway. "Baby, please calm down," she said in a small voice, trying her best to calm him.
Brent looked up at her, and his eyes had a sort of fear behind them. "You don't get it, babe. You don't know." He dropped to a bench and grabbed a weight, curling it quickly as he talked. "Erik has been doing this to me for years. He's always tried to be a better me than me."
"No one is better than you." Morgan's heart ached to see Brent so upset.
"But I just have to be great next week," Brent grunted with every curl. "I have to be better than great."
Morgan sank down wordlessly. She sat on the floor, leaned against the doorway, and she watched as Brent Larson worked himself to death, pushing his tired, aching muscles to the brink. By the time he pulled himself away from his home gym, he practically collapsed, and Morgan had to prop him up and help him to bed.
Her heart ached for him. But how could she help?
Chapter Fifteen
A few hours later, Brent woke from his long, overdue nap to find Morgan attempting to clean the mess in the living room. She was on her hands and knees, scrubbing at the cream-colored carpet. Brent sank down next to her and wrapped her up in his strong arms.
"I am so sorry that I did this," he said, his voice small and kind and gentle. "I don't usually have a temper. I just..." Brent sighed and Morgan laid her head on his shoulder. "Forget it. I'll call my maid and have her come over.
"It's really no trouble, Brent," Morgan said.
But Brent pulled her to her feet. "There's still a few hours left in the day, right? Let's go get a drink or something."
***
An hour later, Brent and Morgan walked arm in arm into their little dive bar. Since it was by week, a lot of the other players were there. Morgan saw Sam and some others playing pool, and Mitchell the kicker was telling a story to a gaggle of wafer-thin females, all of which seemed to hang on his every word.
"I'll grab the drinks if you grab a table," Brent said.
Morgan replied, "You got it!" She kissed her boyfriend's cheek and wandered off into the darkness of the bar.
She finally found a little booth in the back that was unoccupied and she slid in. From here, she could see almost everything. She waved at Sam and the others and watched as Brent ordered a beer for himself and a gin and tonic for her.
"Well, well, well."
Morgan turned to face the vaguely-familiar voice that addressed her, and she quickly found herself looking into the cold blue eyes of Erik Levitt. She gasped as the big man seemed to tower over her, and his very facade frightened her to her core.
"Aren’t you a right pretty little thing?" Levitt cooed at her, his ugly face smiling down. He seemed awfully sure of himself, but Morgan just moved a little farther away.
"Uh..." Morgan could not find the words to respond to him.
Levitt leaned against Morgan's booth and he winked. "I know, it's hard to talk in the face of such greatness." He sighed and flexed his muscles. "Did you get a chance to see my performance on TV today? I'm Erik Levitt of the Blue Kraits."
"I know" Morgan was having a difficult time not wrinkling her nose. What surprised her the most was that it seemed that Levitt did not recognize her from the other night.
"You know," Levitt leaned down and Morgan could smell the heavy aroma of beer on his breath, "We could get out of here, you and me. We could... uh... get to know each other better."
This time, Morgan's disgust was painted on her face. "Uh, no thanks," she said, trying to move as far away from the huge man as she could.
Levitt only smiled wider at the rejection. "Oh, come on!" he said, "This place is so stuffy. I'd love to get you somewhere quiet and get those nice clothes off of you and--"
"I said no," Morgan said, her voice louder and firmer now. "Now leave me alone."
When Morgan's tone changed, Levitt's whole body stiffened. It seemed that he was not used to being rejected. "You... Ya... Uh, fuck it."
And with those words, Levitt reached into the booth and grabbed Morgan. His large hand wrapped around her tiny arm easily and he pulled her out of the booth in one swift motion. "No one says no to me," he grunted in a low, angry tone.
"Get your hands off of me!" Morgan shouted with all of her might. She began hitting Levitt’s arms with her little fists, but the blows were all in vain. He was too strong, too hardened, and he batted her flying hand away as though it was a bothersome gnat.
"Come on," he said, dragging Morgan to the door, "We are getting out of here. I'm going to have a good time tonight whether you like it or not."
Fear rose up in Morgan, making it hard for her to breath. Was this massive man really going to pull her out
of the bar caveman style to do whatever he wanted? She hit and kicked at him again, screaming, "Let me go,” but it was to no avail.
"Levitt, you son of a bitch! Get your hands off of her!"
Brent Larson seemed to appear out of nowhere. He slammed the drinks that he was carrying down on a nearby table and he flew across the bar. He moved so fast that it took Morgan's breath away. Erik Levitt dropped his hands from Morgan and she rushed as fast as she could to get away from him.
Levitt raised his hands. "He-ey, Larson!" he said, baiting the running back for the Caimans, "Fancy meeting you here!"
Brent looked murderous. "You better not put your hands on my girlfriend ever again."
The bald football player just smiled in response. "Oh, this is your woman?" he asked with a tone that told everyone with ears that he knew who Morgan was all along, "My bad, bro."
"You fucker, get your ass out of here." Brent stepped forward and Morgan moved behind him. Her arm still ached where Levitt had grabbed it and she could barely bring herself to look up at him.
Levitt just raised his hands higher in mock defeat. "I'll go," he said, walking backward toward the door, "Just know that I'll have that tight pussy on my cock before you ever get that record back."
Brent lunged for Levitt again, knocking them both to the bar floor. Morgan screamed and everyone around began pulling them off of one another.
Brent was pulled away and there laid Levitt with bright red blood pouring from his nose. If nothing else, Larson had gotten a good jab in on his rival. Morgan watched, and she thought it strange that Levitt was laughing.
"Is that all you got, Larson?" He asked as he climbed to his feet.
Brent struggled against the grips of his teammates. "I would flatten your ass in the ground if I was given a chance."
"Then let's go!" Levitt roared. He wiped some of the blood away from his face, but nothing could take away that maniacal grin of his. "You and me on that field next week. Whoever holds the record at the end wins."
"I'll take that fucking bet," Larson said, "And if I win, I get to beat the shit out of you."
Levitt laughed. The sound echoed eerily throughout the quiet bar. Every patron there was watching the drama unfold, and out of the corner of her eye, Morgan saw someone holding up a smartphone. "Deal," Levitt said, "And if I win, I get to fuck that pretty little slip of a thing hiding behind you."
It took Morgan a moment to process what the behemoth had requested. He wanted to fuck her? Rip her to pieces for an hour? There was no way that Brent would agree to something like that. Morgan, who was standing behind Brent and surrounded by his teammates, could feel herself shrink into the ground. Every player from the Caimans stiffened; they all knew her and liked her. Brent would never take that bet, right?
"You're on."
Chapter Sixteen
Morgan woke up the next morning in her bed, and for a few blissful moments, she had no memory of the night before. Then it all came roaring back: watching the Blue Kraits win, seeing Brent's horrid outburst, the bar, Erik Levitt’s awful face so close to hers, the blood... The bet.
Morgan rolled over and pulled the pillow over her face and she sobbed. As soon as the words had left Brent's mouth, the players shook on it, but Morgan did not wait around. She could feel the outrage from everyone else around her, but to her, everything was a horrible betrayal. She had ran away from the bar in tears, not stopping until she had arrived back at her own place alone. If Brent had followed her, she had paid him no mind.
And why should she pay him any mind? Did he show the slightest bit of concern for her when he laid her body out for the taking? Was she not her own woman, capable of making decisions on who to give or not give her pussy to?
The buzzing of her phone on vibrate caught her attention. She rolled over and fished for the phone, finding it deep in her purse.
"12 new messages from Brent Larson."
"15 new messages from 93ToBe."
"7 missed calls from Brent Larson"
"2 unheard voicemails from Brent Larson."
Morgan groaned and threw the phone across the room. "I don't want to talk to you!" she screamed to her empty room, her words meant for Brent.
Did he even know what he did? Or, was his pride such a blinder that he did not even care? Morgan pulled the blankets from her body and forced herself up, craving coffee and toast. And no matter how upset she was, she would not let herself lay in bed all day over a man.
Morgan made her coffee and toast and settled down at her laptop. She pulled up her favorite gossip site, only to be bombarded with a story that made her shake:
LARSON VS LEVITT! THE WINNER GETS THE MYSTERY GAL!
If you weren't at the Blue Ridge Bar last night, then you certainly missed the drama.
Most football fans will agree, the long-standing feud between the two greatest running backs in the history of the game has been a fun one to watch. But last night, things turned personal.
An anonymous source states that they saw Erik Levitt, the monster running back for the Blue Kraits, hitting on the longtime girlfriend of Brent Larson. The men sparred, then the argument devolved into fisticuffs.
Before the end of the night, they were betting on who would win the big game coming up next week. And the biggest bombshell of all: Larson put up his sweet little girlfriend for Levitt to devour!
Watch the video below and tell us what you think!
Morgan's jaw dropped as her eyes landed on the video. It was taken by a cell phone and as it played, she saw herself freaking out and running out of the bar, only for Brent to call for her.
She could not stop herself from reading the comments. They ranged from attacks on Brent for offering her up like a piece of meat, to horrible opinions about her weight, hair, looks, and breasts, to people being nasty to each other. Tears poured from her eyes and she slammed her laptop shut.
The cell phone began vibrating again, and Morgan walked across the room to retrieve it. Brent's face and name buzzed on the front. He was calling, and Morgan had no intentions of answering.
"Whatever," she mumbled under her breath as she denied the call.
But what was she going to do? Just never speak to him again? Was this the end... Were they going to break up over this?
When Morgan looked deep in her heart, she realized that no, she did not want to end things with Brent. She felt a love for him that was so deep that it was rooted inside of her heart permanently. It wove within her, tangled like vines. It was becoming her. She had a hard time giving that up so easy.
The phone buzzed again.
"3 new unheard voicemails from Brent Larson."
Morgan sighed and unlocked the phone. A few swipes later and her voicemail appeared before her. There were three messages in all. She listened to the oldest first. The first message was from last night at 11:47. Morgan racked her brain, then realized that he must have left that message as soon as he realized that she was missing from the bar.
"Baby? Baby, where did you go?" Brent's voice was loud and slurred, and Morgan knew that the brew that ran through his veins was stopping him from thinking clearly. "Sam said you left. I hope you aren't mad at me. I love you baby, and there's no way in hell that Levitt is going to win!"
The second message was from 4 in the morning. Morgan must have slept right through all of the calls, but from the sound of Brent's voice, he had been doing no sleeping. His voice in the second message was weak. Morgan could almost hear the tears rolling down his face, and she certainly heard the sobs that he fought to bite back as he spoke.
"Baby girl? Please pick up the phone. Please." He sobbed and sighed. "I'm a monster, a fucking monster. I don't know why I did it, and I know that you are probably going to hate me for the rest of my life." He paused as if he wanted to say something else. But, he just ended the call by whispering the words, "I love you, baby girl."
Morgan blinked back tears, and she went right to the third message. Brent's voice sounded tired and hollow, and he spoke so quietly tha
t Morgan had to raise her volume up all the way.
"Baby girl? Morgan? It's me." Brent sighed heavily. "I know that you probably don’t want to see me right now, or hear from me, frankly. I know that I did you wrong. My darling baby, I would take it all back in a heartbeat. I don’t know why I did it, honestly." He paused and Morgan heard the clinking of dishes in the background. "If you want to talk, I'm at the Starstruck Cafe. It's about a block away from your place. I'll be here until 1 o'clock, then I am supposed to be training." His voice cracked with emotion as he said, "Please, Morgan. If you want to talk, come down here. I don’t want to lose you."
Morgan sighed and wiped a lone tear from her cheek. She wanted to see him, to talk to him and press her face into his chest to let all of her sobs out. But she was afraid to see him, mostly because she wanted to dump coffee in his lap, break plates over his head, and shout that she never wanted to see him ever again.
Finally, she decided that she could take it no longer. She dressed quickly and practically ran down to the Starstruck Cafe. She had always liked that little place. It was a great coffee shop with decent sandwiches and they never gave her any hassle over hanging out for hours at a time trying to study during her college years.
When she came up on the cafe, she could see Brent sitting just inside near a big window. He was looking at his phone and did not see Morgan staring. But she could not believe what she saw.
The confident, cocky man that had won her heart was not sitting there. This man was broken. His eyes were red and puffy and his cheeks were sunken in. The coffee and Danish in front of him were untouched, which was quite unusual since Brent devoured all food sitting within a yard's radius. He wore the same clothes as the night before, and if Morgan had to guess, he looked as though he had not slept or showered at all.