by J Santiago
“You deserved to win this,” she whispered, confirming for him that she knew what he was thinking.
Coach Hayes was next, then Higgs, and then Franco. The two men merely stared at each other. Franco extended his hand, and when Tank accepted it, Franco pulled him in for the one-arm, one-hand man hug.
“I know you said you didn’t want this, but there’s no one even in your league. You had to sacrifice something special this season. Let this be your reward.”
They both pulled back, meeting each other’s eyes. Franco’s bore into Tank’s, trying to impose his will. Tank had to smile. He turned, making his way to the stage, trying not to think about the piece of paper that Franco had placed in his hand when they shook.
Glutton for punishment, Amber thought as she parked herself in front of the television, flipping through until she found the channel.
Making herself as comfortable as possible, she sat back to watch the Heisman. That she was doing it from the comfort of the Waldorf Astoria certainly helped.
“I have an idea,” Franco said to her.
“Okay,” she said, waiting for the punch line.
“Why don’t you come with me to New York for the Heisman?”
“Absolutely not!”
“I’ll put you up at the Waldorf, and you can walk through the city. You won’t be anywhere near the proceedings. I’ve got some stuff that I need to do in the city on Monday. We’ll head home Monday night.”
“I don’t know, Franco.”
“I do. Come.”
So, she had. She’d flown up by herself and had dinner with Franco. Then, she’d been left alone. It felt good to be away from everything. She’d walked the city, and she’d been able to forget for a bit about the hurt. She was tired, her leg aching from her explorations.
But she couldn’t fight the pull tonight. Glutton for fucking punishment.
When the camera stayed fixed on Tank, she thought she was going to combust. She hadn’t seen him in weeks, but just the sight of those freakishly beautiful green eyes juxtaposed with his caramel-colored skin was enough to make her body respond. She smiled ruefully as she thought of all the women watching this right now and adding Tank Howard to their Top Five list.
When they called his name, she felt like she’d won something. Her happiness for him and pride in him overwhelmed her. And then, because she was Sunshine, she remembered him with the other girl, and she let the anger slide right back into place, next to the disappointment and hurt. She watched him step to the podium, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to listen to his speech.
She took him in for a second as she heard his opening line, “One of these days, you’ll have a winner who can stand before you without a hint of controversy. I wish it could have been me.”
Then, she turned it off, pounding the Off button on the remote so hard that her finger hurt. Even though it was early, she showered, made an ice pack for her leg, and got into bed. Exhaustion overtook her quickly, and she fell asleep.
When she came awake, she wasn’t sure what had woken her. Then, she felt the throbbing in her leg and knew. Groaning, she rolled out of bed and headed back to the ice bucket to make another pack. As she refilled the bag with ice, she heard a knock at the door, and it dawned on her that it was the sound that had woken her up. She headed to the door, imagining it was Franco.
“Congratulations!” she said as she pulled open the door.
But she found Tank standing on the other side.
“Thank you,” he said, a wide smile on his face, obviously leftover from the euphoria of the night.
But when Amber’s smile slid away, his followed, and they both stood, staring at each other in the doorway.
“Can I come in?” Tank asked.
Amber stood, motionless, unable to move or really speak. It all rushed at her—a barrage of images, a relationship flashing before her eyes. She saw herself in increments—a little battered when she’d met him, a little hopeless when she had gotten involved with him, a little happy when she had fallen in love with him, a little sad when he’d broken her heart.
Without any thought of what she was going to do, the door slammed forward, blocking him out. But it didn’t catch because Tank’s hand shot out, hampering its trajectory, forcing it back toward her, leaving it open and swinging, with both of them on either side of the threshold.
“Just give me a minute to explain.”
“Explain what? What are you explaining? The girl?”
“I don’t know. Are you explaining Smitty’s tongue in your mouth?”
“No,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “That doesn’t need any explanation.”
“Do you know what I wanted to do to him? What I almost did to him?”
She pursed her lips and widened her eyes, feigning innocence. “So, it upset you that I kissed someone?”
She watched his hands clench into fists.
“You fucking kidding me?” he asked.
Shaking her head, the wide eyes still in place, she said, “So, it was upsetting to you to hear that I kissed your boy? Imagine me naked, lying on a couch, with his head between my thighs. You have that image in your mind?” She knew he did because he blanched, the color leaching from his face. “Now, you know how I felt, you fucking asshole!” Her voice stayed quiet, monotone, like a professor delivering a dry lecture. “So, Mr. Heisman, you can turn around and walk away. Please. Before I lose my shit and cause a scene that will keep Twitter ablaze for weeks, providing your precious Heisman even more controversy.”
She turned away from him and waited to hear the door close. When she did, she turned around, breathing a big sigh of relief. But he stood there, inside the room, leaning against the wall, right next to the door. She opened her mouth to scream, to scream the walls down, anything to get him away from her, but he was on her before she could make a noise, his mouth settled against hers, her hands held loosely in his grip behind her back.
“Please,” he murmured, “let me explain, apologize, make it up to you. Don’t send me away.”
He was right up on her, so she could feel his lips moving against hers, the vibrations jolting through her. She wasn’t sure if it was his words, his tone, or his proximity, but she found herself capitulating, nodding to him so that he understood she wouldn’t be screaming. He released her in sections—his mouth pulling away from hers, his body moving backward, his hands dropping her wrists so that they were apart from each other.
She looked up at him, studying him, falling for the sincerity she saw on his face. Taking a deep breath, she moved away and sat on the corner of the bed. “Win me over, Tank.”
Forty-Three
Tank almost smiled at Amber. It was just like her to put the burden on him to make her like him. He was so thankful for the opportunity to talk to her that he was tongue-tied. So, he simply stared, taking her in. Her eyes looked hyperalert but red-rimmed, like she’d been up for way too long. Her hair was in a short little ponytail with her bangs in disarray, her scar on display. He took a little joy in the fact that she didn’t seem at all self-conscious about it in his presence. He was having a hard time with her attire. She’d definitely been asleep or in bed, so her tiny little shorts didn’t hide any part of her legs or ass, and her shirt clung to her like a second skin. After a quick perusal, he did his best to keep his eyes averted.
Sensing her impatience with his muteness, he tried to think of the best way to start.
“When I left you outside the locker room, I was…I’m not even sure I can describe it. I’ve never felt like that. Almost like everything was right in the world.”
He stopped and looked at her, trying to see if she got what he was trying to say. But she continued to glare at some point behind his head.
“Anyway, when I came out of the locker room, a guy was there, waiting for me. He introduced himself and told me Richard had sent him.”
That made her react. Her eyes got wide, and she glanced at him but then quickly looked away, focusing elsewhere.
> “At first, I didn’t think it was any big deal. But, then two other guys came out of nowhere and grabbed me, basically restraining me.”
This time, she pulled her eyes away from the wall and focused on him.
“He went into this elaborate explanation about Richard’s finances and how he’s been footing alimony to my mom with Richard’s promise that he could represent me when I came out. This dude…I guess he’s smart enough to do his homework, and he thought it unlikely that I would follow Richard’s advice. So, he came up with a different way for me to make good on his investment. He wanted me to shave points, basically fix the games.”
He waited for some reaction from her but got nothing.
Sighing deeply, he continued, “Not sure if you realize it, but my collegiate football career is over. Aside from the obvious, that Richard took money from an agent, as did my mother…well, you get the point. Plus, when Franco and I sat down and really talked through it, we realized this dude would always have something on me as long as I was trying to play college football. That’s what the concussion was about. We had to get me out of the games. If we didn’t meet the point spread or if we did, there would always be questions.”
“Don’t you think you should have gone to the police or something?”
“We did. We talked to the police and the NCAA. I’ve had so many interviews and meetings in the last three weeks that, if I never have to sit in a conference room again, I’ll be happy. I also interviewed agents, declared for the draft.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“Got declared ineligible and requested reinstatement from the NCAA. I got it, but still, after everything, it just makes sense to go.”
“What about graduating?”
“Yeah, that’s my final hurdle. I also met with my academic adviser and dean. I have fifteen hours left. But because of the combine and then football season, I’m not going to be able to do anything this spring or in the fall, so I’m going to have to play that one by ear.”
“It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
He nodded. She continued to sit stock-still, focused back on the spot on the wall.
She turned toward him then, meeting his eyes for only the second time since he’d started talking. “Sounds like it’s been a rough couple of weeks. I’m glad you worked it out, Tank.”
It was a dismissal, and he knew it.
“I’m not done.”
She shrugged, and he got angry.
“Look, he threatened you and my mom. He saw us in the tunnel. I needed to get you away from me. I didn’t want you to get messed up in this.”
“Ah, the infamous blow-job reference.”
Her sarcasm grated on him, and he felt his frustration growing. “It was a stupid decision. I know that. I just wanted you to have a reason to stay away from me.”
“Actually, Tank, it was a brilliant move. I’m away from you, and I intend to stay that way.”
She slowly got up then, keeping her weight off her right foot, which he noticed. He noticed those things about her now, her subtle hints that her body hurt or that she was self-conscious. He knew her, and unfortunately for him, he understood now that he’d made an irrevocable choice.
“Amber, I fucked up. I know that now. I knew it then. But, at the time, before you all showed up at my apartment, I was scared. Scared shitless. I’d just realized an hour before everything went down, when you were waiting for me in the tunnel, that I was in love with you. I…I wanted to protect you. And I know that I could have gone about it in another way, but I needed for you to hate me enough to stay away from me because there was no way I’d be able to stay away from you.”
She didn’t say anything, but she’d stopped moving, balancing precariously on her left foot.
“What happened? Why does your foot hurt?”
She rolled her eyes at him but answered, “I walked around a lot today.”
He tentatively moved toward her, afraid she’d bolt. He grabbed the desk chair on the way, pulling it toward her and gently pushing her into it. When she was sitting, he sat in front of her with his knees bent and extended her leg so that it rested on his knee. He massaged her foot and her leg, hoping to ease some of the ache.
“You have no reason to have any faith in me. I know that. But I love you. I wanted that Saturday night so bad. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to question you about what had happened with Franco and laugh with you about my mom’s reaction. I wanted to share my high with you.” He took a deep breath before he continued, “Even if you have to walk away from me, I need you to know that I love you.”
Not one of Tank’s words penetrated Amber’s mind. It seemed to be protected by this super unbreakable force field where words just bounced off. But when he got down on the floor and touched her foot, her leg, she felt vulnerable. She had seen when he’d noticed her hurt leg right away, like he had some line on her aches and pains. She resented that about him, that he could tune into her and figure her out without any effort. It made it all so much easier for him. She had to guess when it came to him, and things felt unbalanced between them.
“How did you know to go get your father?” he asked.
She was lulled by his ministrations, and the answer came out easily, “I didn’t. Tilly guessed something was wrong because of the girl with her mouth wrapped around your dick.” She saw him flinch and didn’t really care.
“You really have a way with words, Sunshine,” he mumbled.
“He kept claiming that the only way you would do something like that was if you were in trouble. So, we went to Franco.”
“He was right.”
“So it would seem.” The languid feeling in her legs was starting to spread through her body, and her earlier exhaustion caught up with her.
Tank stood, picked her up, and moved her to the bed. He laid her down and pulled the fluffy comforter up to her chin. Then, he sat on the side of the bed. She watched all this through half-lidded eyes.
He smoothed the hair back from her forehead as her eyes closed.
“I just don’t think I can forgive you, Tank, even if I wanted to.”
“You don’t want to?” he asked, his surprise evident in his voice.
“I can’t handle that kind of hurt again. Even though I can understand your reasons, I just can’t get that image out of my head. And if that’s how you’re going to solve any problems that come our way, I’ll spend a whole lot of time feeling that shitty.”
He laid his hand on her scar, dragging his thumb across the rippled skin. Her body immediately responded, a moan escaping the confines of her throat. She’d told him one night about the burning, and whenever they spent the night together, he would help her sleep by keeping his hand on you scar.
Her eyes snapped open, and she saw his face, his eyes, and this indescribable look, the look she knew would reflect on her face when she let herself go and allowed her feelings to show. She knew that look, recognized it, reveled in it really. She pulled her hands from under the covers, seeking his skin, the slightly bristly strip where the fade of his hair tapered down and disappeared. She threaded her hands together and yanked him down to her, opening her mouth on impact with his lips, her tongue searching. He capitulated under her assault, desperately trying to get closer to her.
The comforter melted away with his clothes and her pajamas until their bare skin pressed together, and she felt every carved, ridged muscle warm beneath her wandering hands. Their frantic hands traversed hills and valleys—his praying for forgiveness, hers for forgetfulness. When the clamoring of their desire was too much to bear, Amber wrapped her legs around his back, her fingers around his length, and she pushed up toward him, taking over. Tank reached down, grabbed her hands, and brought them up, pinning them on the sides of her head. Her eyes snapped open, and she found herself staring into the confused depths of his.
“What does this mean?” he asked, his voice a scratchy, low version of his real one. “You forgive me?”
She couldn’t lo
ok away but needed the distance, something to give her the strength to answer him truthfully. “Why are you so fucking stupid?” she whispered instead.
The bewilderedness disappeared as her question penetrated. He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“How do I know you won’t be stupid again?”
“You don’t,” he said on a sigh.
She’d needed a different answer even though she could appreciate his honesty. “Let me up,” she demanded as she wiggled her wrists from the shackles of his hands.
He immediately released her, and she shoved against his shoulders. He rolled over onto his back as she jumped up from the bed. She turned her back on him as she tried to reason through his answer. If he’d answered in any other way, she probably would have hit him, but still, his candor made her sad.
“Fuck, Tank,” she said, still facing away, her naked ass directly in his line of sight. Her comfort with him was not lost on her.
“I know, Sunshine. I know.”
Later, she would think back on his response and remember it as the exact moment of her decision.
She turned around and made her way back to the bed. She didn’t let him move, but rather, she climbed up onto his spectacular body. Her eyes raked over every smooth inch of his cocoa-colored skin. Her fingers and hands followed the same path—eyes, mouth, the dip of sinew on his shoulders, the ridges of his abdomen, and his powerful hard quads. She kissed every inch of him until she couldn’t contain her need to have him inside her. She left him to retrieve a condom and rolled it on before taking every inch of him in one glorious rush.
“Jesus,” he groaned, his hands clenched in fists.
When he tried to move them to her hips to take over, she batted them away. She rode him hard until she was dripping with sweat and every horrible image of him with another girl was expunged from her mind. When he came, she followed him. She stayed atop of him with her eyes closed, letting her heart rate settle back to normal, gathering her thoughts and emotions. He tried to pull her down to him, to wrap her in his arms, but she merely rolled off of him before gathering her clothes and heading to the bathroom.