by Sarah Curtis
“Now, watch carefully, the defense is going to blitz.”
“What’s a blitz again?” They’d been watching for over an hour and the only thing Ivy had enjoyed so far was the tight uniform pants. But in her opinion, that alone was worth watching the game.
“When three or more defensive players rush the quarterback, not giving his offense enough time to get in position and protect him. They’re trying to either sack him or get him to throw the ball early.”
“And sacking is bad, right?”
“Yes, yards are lost as well as a down.”
Okay, down she knew. The offense only had four of them to gain ten yards.
“Have you ever been sacked?”
He belly laughed even though she hadn’t meant to be funny. “Many, many… many times.”
She jabbed his bare foot with her equally bare toe. “It was an honest question.”
They were sitting side by side on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table watching a big screen that took up more than half the wall. The car she had in college was smaller than Colt’s TV. Okay, so that might be an exaggeration, but not by much.
His expression sobered. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just I’ve been sacked so many times I’ve lost count. But I’m sure there’s a stat for it somewhere.”
He didn’t sound happy that may be a possibility.
Moving on. “So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. A field goal is worth three points and a touchdown is worth seven, right?”
“No, a touchdown is worth six. The extra point comes from the kick after the touchdown.”
Wait a minute. That didn’t make sense. “Why is kicking the ball through the U-shaped thingy—”
“The upright.”
“Right, that. Why is kicking it after a touchdown worth fewer points than making a field goal? They’re both the same action of kicking the ball through the upright.”
“Because nine times out of ten a field goal is made from a greater distance on the field. The average field goal attempt is usually thirty-five to forty yards and a PAT—or point after touchdown—kick is only thirty-two.”
“What’s the farthest field goal ever kicked?”
Colt grinned. “Finally, a trivia fact I know that you don’t.”
“Gloating isn’t sexy.”
“Maybe not, but it sure does feel good.”
Ivy harrumphed. “Just answer the question.”
“Sixty-four yards by Matt Prater in 2013 and only four have ever been made at sixty-three.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. Wow is right. You should YouTube it, it’s pretty exciting to see.”
Ivy definitely would.
They watched for another hour before Ivy waved a white flag. Planting her feet on the floor, she sat up from her slouch and declared, “If you don’t feed me, I’m going to wither away and die.” It was dramatic, but she got her point across.
Colt got up. “I don’t have much in the way of food, but we can order something in or go out.”
“In.” For sure. The last thing she felt like doing was battling the Sunday brunch crowd.
She followed Colt into the kitchen where he opened a drawer and pulled out a stack of menus. He tossed them on the counter. “Take your pick.”
Ivy perused her options and settled on a place that delivered breakfast burritos. She also agreed to watch more football until their food arrived. “But after, I’m changing it to something I want to watch.”
“Deal.”
So they settled in with their burritos and Ivy introduced Colt to Groot. Gimli would have to wait for another day or more likely weekend since the Lord of the Rings trilogy was over nine hours long. Colt had stamina but probably not that kind.
After four-and-a-half hours and both Guardians of the Galaxy movies under their belt, Ivy declared it was time she went home. She had a laundry list of things to do to get ready for the week—which, as it happened, one of the items was laundry.
Ivy gathered her stuff, and Colt walked her to the door.
“We should do something special next weekend. It’s the last one I have free for a while.”
She turned in the doorway to face him. “Oh, I can’t. I have plans.”
“Plans?”
Why did he seem so surprised? “Comic-Con. I go every year with a group of friends.”
“And it’s next weekend?”
“Well, actually, I leave Wednesday and come home Sunday night.”
“Were you planning on telling me you were skipping town?”
“That’s a bit dramatic. It’s not like I’m a felon jumping bail. And I’m sure it would’ve come up at some point before I left.” She tilted her head, studying him. “Why are you upset about this?”
“I’m not upset, just surprised.”
Her jaw tensed. “I do have a life, you know.”
He held up a hand. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just surprised I’m hearing about it now. Going out of town for a week is a big deal.”
She shrugged. “I honestly didn’t think to mention it.”
“So it would seem.”
Irritated by the possessive boyfriend routine when he clearly was not, Ivy said, “I better go.” She spun on her toe and went down the walk to the driveway where her car was parked.
She’d just opened the driver’s door when she heard her name called. She looked toward the front door.
“I’ll call you tonight.”
She raised a hand in acknowledgment—proud of her restraint by not flipping him the bird—got in the car, and drove away.
Chapter Ten
Colt
“So, what’s up with you and the hottie photographer?”
Colt sent Linc a glare as he shoved his arms through the sleeves of his red practice shirt. “Nothing.” And after the way Ivy left his house the day before, it probably really was nothing.
Linc pulled his helmet off the shelf of his locker. “Didn’t look like nothin’.”
“Are we talking about the purple-haired woman?” Oz asked, joining the conversation. “Wasn’t she that pap at The Parting Glass a couple weeks ago?”
“She’s not paparazzi. She’s a social media consultant.” Colt was quick to clear up.
“Oh, that’s cool. Emerson said she used one of those. I wonder if it’s the same person.”
“Emerson?” Linc flashed a shit-eating grin.
Oz ducked his head and got busy shoving his street clothes into his locker. Colt was just happy the conversation had shifted from him.
“Who’s Emerson and why are we just now hearing about her?” Linc persisted.
“She’s the owner of The Parting Glass. I’ve been in a few more times and we got to talking.”
“Talking?” Linc prodded.
Oz shot Linc a glare. Guess it was catching. “Yeah, talk. It’s what you do with a woman when you’re not fucking them. But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
Linc’s grin faded, and his eyes narrowed. “I talk.”
Oz snorted. “Telling them to spread their legs doesn’t count.”
“Fuck you.”
Colt decided to intervene before things blew up. He stepped between them, putting a hand on each of their chests. “Save it for the game next week, ladies.”
They both took a step back. Crisis averted.
“Let’s go. Coach will be pissed if he’s out on the field before we are. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like running twenty extra laps today,” Colt reasoned.
They mumbled their agreement, and Linc took it one step further by holding out a hand. “No hard feelings?”
Oz grunted and took it. “If I had hard feelings every time you opened your mouth, they’d be a twenty-foot brick wall by now.”
Colt was relieved Linc had found that amusing and that it didn’t start another round of fighting. He wasn’t sure he had the patience to deal with it. He’d already spent the night trying to figure Ivy out and had come out none the wise
r for it by morning.
Why hadn’t she mentioned she’d be gone for four days? He knew their relationship was casual, but he thought between all the sex, they’d become friends.
He liked Ivy—a lot. She was fun to be around, and it was refreshing spending time with a woman who didn’t have a hidden agenda or want something from him. He was able to just enjoy their time together.
And the sex was amazing. Best he’d ever had. Ivy, he found, was honest in all things. No over-the-top, pornoesque dramatics aimed to make him feel like a god in bed. Just pure, authentic reactions. She wasn’t afraid to tell him what she liked but, more importantly, what she didn’t. And he loved that. Watching her come apart, knowing it was real and that he had given her pleasure is what really made him feel like a god.
The sound of a whistle pulled him from his thoughts. Thoughts that should be on football but were instead on Ivy. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. How getting involved in a stress-free, non-relationship with Ivy was supposed to keep his head clear so he could focus on the upcoming season when, in fact, she filled his every thought.
Maybe it was for the best they’d be apart for the weekend. He could spend the time getting his head back in the game.
Where it should be.
Ivy
The flight to San Diego was just long enough for Ivy to recall her parting conversation with Colt, dwell on it, rewrite the conversation in her head with all the possible alternate outcomes, and eat her free peanuts.
“What time is your flight?”
“Four-thirty. I leave for the airport at two.”
“Sorry I can’t see you before you go.”
“I know you can’t miss practice.”
He was silent for a beat. “Right.”
What did that moment of silence mean?
“Besides, I’ll only be gone a few days. It’s not like I’m leaving to go on sabbatical with Greenpeace.”
His silence stretched longer that time. So long, she filled in the quiet. “Anywho, I better finish packing.”
“Right.”
There was the stupid right again. It was beginning to irk her as much as his nope.
“Text me when you get to the hotel so I know you arrived safely.”
“Will do.”
Another beat of silence. “Have a safe flight.”
Somewhere in that conversation, she should’ve admitted she would miss him. But she figured that was against the fuck buddy TOS. And she didn’t want to cross any lines.
The sun was just starting to set by the time Ivy arrived at the hotel. She was so excited, she couldn’t get out of the cab and grab her suitcases fast enough. She looked forward to the event every year. Not only because of all the fun she would have, but because it was the one time a year she got to see her online friends Crystal, Jessica, and Tina.
They’d all met five years ago on a Star Wars forum and had become fast friends. This was their fourth Con as a group.
“There she is!”
It wasn’t hard to miss her three friends as they jumped up and down in excitement, pointing in Ivy’s direction. Ivy hurried across the lobby as fast as her two weighted suitcases and carry-on would allow, stopping just short of the trio to drop her bags and join them in a group hug.
“It’s so good to see you guys.” Funnily enough, Ivy lived closest to San Diego but was the last one to arrive.
They spent a few minutes talking over one another until Jessica said, “Come on, let’s get your stuff up to the room and get something to eat.”
Sounded good to Ivy. All she’d had were coffee and airplane peanuts all day since she’d been too excited to eat. They made their way up to their rooms. Ivy was sharing with Tina, and Crystal and Jessica where in the room next door with a connecting door that would likely never close.
She was just tossing her suitcases on the bed closest to the window when her phone beeped.
Poodoo. She’d forgotten to text Colt.
Did you arrive okay?
She typed back, Yep. Just got in.
“Who’s that?” Tina asked from over Ivy’s shoulder.
Crystal and Jessica entered the room.
“Oh, um…” What did she say? These women were her closest friends, but she still hesitated to tell them who Colt was to her. “He’s a friend.” There, that was mostly true.
Good. Check in before bed.
Knowing she was being watched she quickly typed back Sure and shoved her phone back into her pocket.
All eyes were on her. “Well, I’m starved.” Ivy rubbed her hands together. “Where should we eat?”
She should’ve known she wouldn’t deter them that easily. They were all just as nosy as her and therefore needed to know everything. As per their usual MO, they started firing questions one on top of the other.
“A friend, huh. As in boyfriend?” That was from Crystal.
“Do you have a picture?” From Tina.
“What’s he do for a living?” From the ever-practical Jessica.
Knowing she was fighting a losing battle, she held up her hands for silence. “Here’s the deal. I’ll tell you all about him, but,” she held up her pointer, “I’ll do it over dinner.”
She really was hungry.
One taco platter and three pitchers of margaritas later, Ivy had spilled it all, and currently, the girls were oohing and aahing over pictures of Colt on the web, passing phones around like a game of tipsy hot potato.
“I’ve never had a fuck buddy,” Crystal said, her blond head bowed over… someone’s phone. By that point, Ivy had lost track of whose phone was whose.
“I have,” Jessica shared.
“Really? Do tell.” Tina plopped an elbow on the table and cradled her head in her hand. She was the lightweight of the group and if they didn’t get back to the hotel soon, she’d be snoozing on the table.
“It was in college. His name was Steve and we’d been paired for this long-term project. We spent a lot of time together. Things progressed from there.”
“And it didn’t turn into anything more?” Ivy held her breath, waiting for the answer.
“Nope.” Jessica grabbed a chip from the basket in the middle of the table. She scooped a mound of salsa before popping it into her mouth. “Never saw him again after the semester was over,” she said, mouth still full. She swallowed and then shouted, “Oh, wait. I did see him around campus once after that.” She frowned. “He totally ignored me. I wonder what that was all about?”
Ivy wondered if Colt would end up ignoring her. Doubtful. It was more likely once their fling ended, they’d just never run into each other. After all, it wasn’t as if they moved in the same circles. Unless he called needing more design work done, she’d probably never see him again.
“I say it’s his loss,” Tina slurred then promptly yawned.
“Ditto,” Ivy and Crystal said in unison. They both looked at each other and cracked up.
Crystal eyed Tina. “We should probably go before we need to carry her out.”
Jessica picked up the margarita pitcher, pouring what was left into their glasses, bypassing Tina’s. “Can’t let this go to waste.” She held up her half-full glass. “To best friends, fuck buddies, and an awesome weekend at the Con.”
“Hear, hear!”
They made it back to the hotel with a still-functioning Tina, but she was out like a light the minute her head hit the pillow. Ivy managed to clumsily complete her nightly routine of brushing her teeth and pulling her hair from its topknot to comb out the tangles before she got into bed with her cell. She didn’t want to forget to text Colt.
Again.
Clicking off the bedside lamp, she snuggled into the covers and pulled up their text thread.
Hey.
It didn’t take long to get a response even though it was late and he had practice in the morning.
Hey. Have a good night?
Yes. It was fun. Went out for tacos and margaritas.
Ivy watched the three little do
ts, growing drowsy waiting for his response. Finally, I’m calling popped up on the screen.
She was quick to reply.
No. Don’t.
Why not?
Ivy looked over at Tina and then the open door leading to the other room. Tina was snoring and dead to the world, but she didn’t want to disturb the others.
I can’t talk. I’m not alone.
The three little dots started blinking again. Longer this time. Either he was writing a novel or typing and erasing. She pushed herself into a seated position, resting her back against the headboard to keep from falling asleep.
She rapidly blinked to clear her vision when his text arrived.
What do you mean you’re not alone?
She was too tired to try to figure out why it had taken him so long to write a single sentence.
I have a roommate. Tina and I are sharing a room to split the cost.
Mr. Multi-Millionaire probably forgot the concept of needing to save money. And he knew who Tina was. They’d had a whole conversation about her friends—which had really been more an interrogation. If Colt was so protective in a non-relationship, she’d hate to see what he was like in a real one.
You must be tired. I’ll let you get some sleep.
You need sleep, too. You have practice in the morning.
Don’t worry about me. Worry about you. Stay safe and keep in touch.
I’ll try. I have a busy day tomorrow.
Try hard.
She didn’t bother to respond to that bossy command, just wished him a good night and clicked off her phone. She snuggled back into her covers, closed her eyes, and was asleep within minutes.
“Has anyone seen my armbands?” Tina stood in the bathroom doorway dressed in a cream tunic top and white capris. She held a pair of brown combat boots in one hand and a long, brown belt in the other.
Ivy scanned their room. It looked like a clothes bomb had exploded. “Have you checked under that pile on your bed?”