PENALTY

by Jacob Chance

  In his bathroom, I find a brush on top of the countertop and make short work of removing the knots from my morning hair. It takes some effort to get them out and when I’m done I smooth my hand over it. Looking in the mirror at my pale face and my big eyes smudged with the prior night’s makeup I look like I’ve been on a mad bender or fucked hard.

  I wish.

  Stop it. I scold myself. Thinking about Brady is a big no-no. N.O. Do not go there.

  “Do you know where my phone is?” I ask as I enter the kitchen. Brady is facing away from me, giving my eyes the opportunity to study his broad shoulders in his plain white t-shirt. His broad back tapers down to lean hips. His black shorts hang loose but I can still make out the shape of his muscular ass. I want to squeeze it and see if it’s as firm as it looks. I blow my bangs out of my eyes frustrated at the direction my thoughts have once again wandered. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to stop myself from thinking about him. I need a magic wand and a spell to wipe him from my mind and make all memories of him disappear. I picture a little puff of smoke leaving my head.

  No more Brady in my brain.

  Walking across the large kitchen, I stop next to him. He’s pouring a frothy white mixture from the blender into two glasses. He slides one along the granite counter in my direction.

  I glance at the beverage and then flick my eyes to him. “What is that?” I curl my upper lip in distaste.

  He smiles at me, raises his glass to his mouth and swallows the drink down in one large gulp. “Ahh.” He licks his manly lips and my eyes follow the path of his tongue. I never wanted to be a tongue so badly.

  “Are you going to try it?” He smirks at me and I know he just busted me fantasizing about his tongue. I’m sure his tongue is very dexterous.

  Crap, here I go again thinking about him.

  Maybe I need a lobotomy. They can surgically remove the piece of my brain he’s lodged in.

  “What is it?” I skeptically ask. Just based on what it looks like, I don’t think it can possibly taste good.

  “Just try it. Come on, be daring.” His eyes appear a lighter shade of blue in the bright morning sunlight as they sparkle mischievously at me.

  I shake my head. “No way. Not until I know what it’s made of. I prefer to be safe.” I hope he understands what my words mean. I’m not the kind of girl he wants. He doesn’t want orderly and predictable, he wants someone who’s going to leap first and look later.

  That will never be me.

  “Sometimes you just need to try something new – push yourself out of your comfort zone.” He stares down into my eyes and rakes his teeth over his bottom lip.

  Is he trying to tell me something? I suck at this reading between the lines thing. I need an interpreter for this shit.

  I sweep my bangs off my forehead and look away. Flirting is a fine art I’ve never had time or the desire to develop, but right now in this moment I’m kicking myself for it. I wish I knew what to say to him. Instead, I’m paralyzed by feelings of inadequacy which only makes me seem more awkward.

  He inches the glass closer to me with his fingertips. I notice how large his hands are and his nails are clipped short. I wonder what they’d feel like on my skin? On the inside of my thighs?

  Oh fuck. I grab the ice-cold beverage and tip it back, swallowing down the first taste. Anything to get my mind off his hands tracing along my skin.

  Dear God, make it stop.

  I gulp down the rest of the vanilla tasting mixture and slam my glass down on the countertop. I cover my lips with my hand as my taste buds get hit with a weird aftertaste. “Water.” I gasp out. Brady walks the short distance to the fridge and grabs me a bottle of spring water. He twists off the cap before handing it to me.

  In my haste to take a sip I spill some down my chin and onto the tops of my breasts. Brady’s eyes track the beads of moisture and I squeeze my thighs together. I want his tongue and lips there sucking them up.

  I gulp the water down so fast I choke on it. More water spills from between my lips as I sputter, trying to hold in my cough. Somehow, I swallow the remainder in my mouth before I erupt into a hacking fit of coughing. Tears pour from my eyes and it takes me a full minute to stop.

  “Are you okay?” Brady asks, a look of concern on his handsome face. I nod my head and hold up a finger. I can feel how red my face has become and I’m sure my already smudged makeup is now messily trailing down my cheeks. I wipe under each eye as I catch my breath.

  Fuck my life. I won’t have to remind myself to forget about Brady because he’s never going to want to see me again. Right about now it must be registering with him what a disaster I am.

  The coughing fit settles down until it’s a sporadic single cough here and there.

  “You sure you’re okay?” he asks his eyebrow raised.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It just went down the wrong pipe.” I don’t know why I feel the need to explain. Hasn’t everyone choked on a drink at some point?

  “I’m going to call a cab now. Thanks for taking care of me last night.” I take a step back and move to turn around when his large fingers close around my upper arm stopping me in my tracks.

  “You don’t need a cab, I’ll take you home. What’s the rush, kitten?” I glance at his hand wrapped around my arm. Those same hands work magic on the football field. I bet they work magic in the bedroom too.

  Don’t go there, Harlow.

  “I have a project I need to work on.” My eyes shift, looking around the kitchen, afraid he’ll see the lie reflected in them. Thankfully, he doesn’t push.

  “Let me grab some sneakers and my keys and we’ll hit the road. I don’t want to interfere with your perfect GPA.” He grins crookedly, a quick glimpse of his dimple appears, before he walks away.

  My hand goes to my chest and I close my eyes as I take a few long, slow breaths. How am I supposed to resist him when he’s flashing his dimple in my face? I’m going to stop looking at him altogether.

  “Here.” He walks back into the kitchen. Our fingers touch as he passes me my phone, my fake I.D and the twenty dollar bill I brought to the bar. “This was in the pocket of your jeans when I washed them.” I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of a guy before. Every contact or interaction we have seems magnified.

  Maybe I’m just turning the strong attraction I feel for him into something more.

  “Thanks. I’d be screwed if I lost this.” I hold up my phone. “My stepmom would have my head and guilt trip me for the rest of my life if she had to buy me a new one.” I push it all down into my front pocket.

  Following him out to his vehicle, I’m surprised when the lights flash on a nearby white Chevy Tahoe as he unlocks it with his keyless entry. He opens the door for me and puts his hand on my arm to assist me up. Once I’m settled, he closes me in and gets in the driver’s side.

  I rattle off my address and we’re on our way. My apartment is located only five minutes from his. If I wasn’t still feeling under the weather from being hungover I could’ve walked home. As it was, I was so drunk on the taxi ride to his place I didn’t realize how close he lives to me.

  When he parks curbside in front of my building I jump out before he’s even shifted into park.

  “What – no hug?” he jokes.

  “Thanks for the ride home, Brady.” My hand is on the door, ready to close it.

  “Say that again,” he tells me with a smile.

  “What?” I question confused at what he wants.

  “My name.” He smirks. “I like hearing you say it.”

  I roll my eyes and slam the door shut. Quickly spinning around, I head for the front door. I don’t want him to know how much it excites me when he says those kinds of things. I don’t think I can stop this attraction I feel for him. I’m going to avoid him at all costs. It’s the easiest solution.

  Chapter Five

  BRADY

  Football practice has been kicking my ass every single day this week. There’s an important divisional game this com
ing weekend. Coach has been working us over time in preparation for what’s sure to be a battle. I’ve been too tired to do anything but eat, sleep and go to class. Even making it there’s been a struggle.

  I haven’t seen Harlow at all. She’s like a ghost on campus. I never seem to notice her, but I don’t understand how it’s possible. She’s so fucking gorgeous she’s impossible to miss. Why am I not seeing her?

  I made sure I grabbed her number when I had her phone the other night. I wasn’t taking any chances on losing touch with her. I’ve tried texting her, but she ignores the messages I send. Glancing down at my cellphone, I read through the most recent ones I sent.

  Me – Hey. Nothing. I tried again.

  Me – Hey, it’s that gorgeous guy you secretly like. Still nothing. I sent another.

  Me – You and me eating dinner together. Great idea, right? Still nothing. She’s ignored them. I’m not used to being ignored. I tried again, just in case.

  Me – You’re giving me a complex here.

  It doesn’t help my situation any that I have her number and she’s not answering. I’m going to wait until this weekend and if I haven’t bumped into her by then or successfully reached her on the phone, then I’m going to swing by her place. She can’t avoid me forever. There’s no way in hell I’ll let this girl slip away.

  Game day rolls around and I’m feeling great. Coach has us well prepared for this team. We’ve watched a lot of videos of our opponent and we know their offense and defense inside out. That’s a great feeling going into a game – to know all you need to do is play the best you can and your team should come out on top.

  My warm up goes well. My arm is feeling solid today. When I head into the locker room it’s alive with the sound of laughter as my teammates rib and joke with each other. I slowly chew on a protein bar and drink some water, getting lost in thoughts of Harlow as I relax down onto the locker room bench. I wonder what she’s doing tonight. Is she home studying for midterms or is she out with some other guy? This thought just about guts me. I don’t want anyone else to touch her – only me. I pinch the bridge of my nose and drop my chin to my chest. I picture Harlow standing in front of me in tight jeans with one of my jerseys knotted at her waist. Fuck. I’d like to see her wearing my number eight and nothing else.

  “Okay boys,” coach walks in the locker room clapping his hands to get our attention. “It’s time to put all the hard work we’ve logged in this week, to use,” he begins his pregame pep talk and I focus on what he’s saying. By the time he’s done we all feel invincible and as if this win is ours if we want it bad enough.

  “Everything okay man?” Nick asks, sliding onto the bench beside me.

  “Yeah, why do you ask?”

  “You seem a little off - a little distracted. Just making sure your head’s in good place.”

  I hold my fist out for him to bump. “Yeah, it’s all good, bro.”

  Harlow. I conjure up her image one more time before pushing her to the back of my mind.

  I’ve got a game to win.

  We end the first half up by seven, a much smaller cushion than we were hoping for. Their D-line has been kicking my ass up and down the field. I’m sore and fucking pissed off. I’m not one to point fingers, but my O-line has been crumbling and missing their blocks which is why I’m getting pummeled in the first place. We’re playing like shit - like an unprepared high school team nervously scrambling around. Our only saving grace is our defense has been doing a great job of shutting their offense down.

  Stretching my legs out straight in front of me, I grimace. Fuck. My right knee is killing me. It’s an old skateboarding injury from my teen years and every once in a while it flares up. I don’t have time for this bullshit. There’s still half the game left and there’s no way in hell I’m not playing in it. I take a sip of water and lean my head back raising my face to the sky. I breathe deep and tell myself to focus. I’m usually pretty good at remaining positive in the face of adversity, but today I’m struggling. We’re winning, why am I being such a negative asshole?

  Harlow’s face flashes into my thoughts. This girl has me tied in knots and I need to do something about it. The way I see it there are two options for me. One, I can bang her and get it out of my system or two, I can just forget about her and bang someone else. The second is probably the smarter way to go. It’s not like she’s ever going to give me the time of day anyhow. Guzzling down the rest of the water, I chuck the bottle to the trash barrel next to the bench. I scrub my hands up and down my face.

  Harlow Summers is just a pipe dream which will never come to fruition. Football’s what matters to me. I need to get my head back in this game.

  Pacing back and forth along the sidelines, trying to keep my knee limber my eyes move to the scoreboard. It’s fourteen all and we’re only going to have time for one more possession. Defense has done their job and held it to a tied game.

  Rolling my shoulders a few times, I tip my head side to side, loosening my neck muscles. The adrenaline’s starting to kick in. I can feel it coursing through my body. There’s a sense of urgency in the air. We need to score.

  Glancing at the fans in the stands who came to support us today, I recognize some who never miss a game. I’m grateful to play for such a great university.

  I let my eyes rove over all the nameless people in the section of the stands behind our bench. One person stands out amongst them all. Harlow Summers. She’s here.

  My heart pounds as I study her. She’s dressed in a black wool coat with a red scarf wrapped around her neck and matching gloves. I smile when I realize she has on white earmuffs. She’s so fucking cute. Her thick, dark brown hair is the biggest thing on her small frame. I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and wonder why she’s here? Cracking my knuckles, I watch her until she senses my stare. When her large gray eyes find me she doesn’t react. She sits frozen in place. I flash a large grin and point a finger in her direction, making it impossible for her to deny being here.

  It’s show time. Time to win this game and crush our opponent’s hope.

  Pulling my helmet back on, I fasten the chin strap as I stalk back on the field, determination in every step I take. Ten plays later Nick catches a perfect pass in the end zone for the game winning touchdown. We ran down the clock so well, with seconds left all that’s left to do is take a knee.

  We finish the final play, the cheers of the large crowd resonating in my ears. I hug my teammates and enjoy a few moments of celebration, but then my eyes immediately go to where Harlow was seated. She’s no longer there. Scanning the area for a flash of her bright red scarf, I find her halfway up the stairs, her back to me, in the throng of people. Disappointment washes over me. I was hoping to talk with her for a few minutes and thank her for coming to watch. Maybe even use my mad powers of persuasion to convince her to go out with me later.

  She did come to the game - to an away game, after admitting she doesn’t like or follow football. The only reason I can think of for her being here today is to see me. My chest swells. She wants me bad, but she’s still a bit innocent. I need to pull the words right out of her, like an exorcist. I’ll do whatever she needs me to. Christ, I’ll dip my wick in holy water if I need to.

  The bus ride back home is never louder than when we win a divisional game. Typically, I’d be all up in the commotion, but right now my head is back on the headrest and my eyes are shut while thoughts of Harlow play on a nonstop reel in my mind. What’s my next step going to be? I should figure out a game plan. I need to be methodical.

  The voices around me bleed through my concentration.

  “I’m taking her out tonight. She’s a live one,” Cameron boasts in the arrogant tone of voice he pulls off so well. My ears perk up. Is he talking about Raine?

  “She was a wildcat the other night. I think my back still has the scratches to show for it.” Opening my eyes to slits, I see him flash a grin at Jason, one of the offensive lineman, before typing on his cellphone.

  “I’
m trying to get her to bring her hot little roommate. I wouldn’t mind tapping her ass too.” The answering beep of a text has his head dropping down to peer at the screen. It keeps him from seeing the expression of rage on my face. He’s not going to be within five fucking feet of Harlow. Not if I’ve anything to say about it. I want to creep across the aisle, grip him by the nape of his neck and slam his face into the seat in front of him. I want to, but I don’t. I can’t. It would mean being benched for a game or two which would hurt our team exponentially. Our back up QB is good, but he’s not me. I know I can be a screw up sometimes, but football is the one thing I don’t fuck around with. It’s my life.

  Sitting up in my seat I lean in Cameron’s direction. “Where are you guys going tonight? I could stand to blow off some steam.” I rake my teeth over my bottom lip.

  “We’re going to C’s Pub. You should come.” He flicks a glance in my direction before typing on his phone some more. He has no idea how close I was to kicking his ass only seconds ago.

  I lean my head back, smiling to myself. I’ll be seeing you real soon, Harlow.

  Chapter Six

  BRADY

  The November night air is cold as we walk down the sidewalk along Commonwealth Ave. My hands are jammed in the front pockets of my jeans and I can see my breath with every exhale. My roommates Zeke and Nick are with me, neither of them had other plans.

  After about five minutes of shivering in only a hooded sweatshirt, I see the iconic red letters on the front of the building - C’s Pub. The three of us have been coming here since we were freshman. Considered to be a Boston University pub, it’s conveniently located with access to the T. We don’t need to take the train. Our apartment is close enough for us to walk here, and stumble home which is the main reason why we’re frequent patrons.