by Hannah Ford
“I—I—I’m just…uh…I’m not sure what’s going on right now.” Faith looked around the room. “Isn’t anyone else coming to the Meet and Greet?”
Chase looked around too, as if he fully expected a parade to come marching through the room at any moment. Then he shrugged. “Guess not,” he said, and took a sip from the water bottle, which looked teeny tiny in his hand.
“Oh,” Faith said, her lips feeling numb, her heart racing. She felt like she might actually faint, the way those women used to do in old black and white movies. Only Chase probably wouldn’t catch her the way the movie stars always did—she figured he’d let her drop on her head without batting an eyelash.
“You a big football fan?” he asked, stretching his arms up and then leaning back against the counter, his small towel riding up his enormous thighs as he watched her.
“Not really.” She tried to smile but couldn’t tell if it worked.
“No?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. His face was expressive…but his eyes, Faith decided, were very cold. He had extremely dark, short hair, long sideburns, and a cleanly shaven, smooth face. His cheekbones were strong and angular, and his chin came almost to a point. “You should give the sport a chance,” Chase said, the smirk still present on his face.
Chase was handsome, gorgeous even. But somehow, standing near him, what she found herself feeling most was a distinctly unpleasant physical attraction to his body. It was unpleasant because it felt dangerous—the way someone might be attracted to skydiving or mountain climbing or even hard drugs.
Faith had always steered clear of those kinds of things. She’d never wanted to play with fire…not until now, anyway.
Everything about him was powerful and forceful, like standing too close to a hot open flame.
And Faith was truly scared of him.
You’re scared of everything, she reminded herself.
That might have been true, but this time she could sense that she had good reason to be afraid.
Not just afraid of him as a person—but afraid of her own immediate attraction to him.
“I’m looking forward to the game today,” she announced, clearing her throat and looking away from his nearly naked body, walking closer to the exit and picking up an ornate New England Nationals figurine that was sitting on a table nearby.
“Me too,” Chase said, his voice following her, as were his eyes. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and solid, like an actual pressure on her body.
She was all too aware of the skirt she’d worn today, which, given the chilly weather, she’d almost decided against. Now she wished she’d listened to her instincts and put on jeans or sweats or anything else. And her sweater showed way too much cleavage.
She’d dressed up nicely because of the Meet and Greet (before she’d known what it really meant).
But as it turned out, she was alone with Chase Winters and he was half naked and she felt as though he was in the process of stripping her bare with his eyes from across the room.
I’m not his type anyway, she thought, turning the figurine over and over in her hands, pretending to be interested in it. Meanwhile, every part of her was noticing him out of the corner of her eye, feeling his presence and his gaze upon her.
I’m just a normal girl, with curves that some boys happen to like, but just as many don’t.
She imagined that Chase tended to like the extra skinny ones, not to mention the supermodel types.
Still, she felt electricity in the air and wondered if it could be just her imagination, or whether it might be real.
There was silence too—a lot of silence considering this was supposed to be some kind of official contest meet n’ greet. And the silence only added to the electricity, as though each and every word uttered between them held all kinds of extra meaning.
“Are you nervous?” she asked him, finally daring to look at him.
“Nervous about what?” he said, placing his tiny bottle of water on the counter and stepping towards her. “Meeting you?” He challenged her with his dark, ferocious eyes.
“Of course not,” she said, licking her lips. “I meant about the game.”
“Do I look nervous?”
“Not particularly,” she admitted.
His smile grew wider. “How about you, cutie?” he said, his voice lowering. “You seem kind of skittish. Feeling some pre-game jitters?” he teased.
“I don’t…I don’t think so.” Her breath came in short gasps as Chase walked closer to her. “I’m just confused about what I’m doing here.”
“You’re here because you won some contest and I’m the grand prize.” He kept coming towards her, looming larger and larger. He was a towering image of perfection—a man who looked the way statues “tried” to look—resolute, strong, unwavering and unafraid of anything the world had to offer.
“I probably should let you get ready for the game now,” she whispered, her voice starting to fail her.
Chase was just a few feet away. Close enough for her to reach out and touch his stomach. The top of her head came up to right around his shoulders, and she could have leaned forward and kissed his bare chest.
The thought of that was almost enough to make her laugh—except she hardly felt like laughing. In fact, she was terrified.
“The game’s not for awhile,” Chase said, looking down at her. “I don’t see why you’re in such a rush.”
“Don’t you want to go to your locker room or something? Hang out with the rest of the team?”
For the first time, he seemed to lose focus on her. His smile became a sneer. “The team,” he said, shaking his head. “Yeah, I guess you don’t know much about sports at all.”
“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me about it?”
Suddenly, his large hand reached out and gently touched her chin, his thumb caressing her skin briefly, as his eyes bored into her. “I’m not really interested in talking about the team,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
“What are you interested in, then?”
He smiled, not needing to say the words. And then he was stepping closer, and she could smell his soapy fresh scent, and a tiny hint of sweat that actually smelled even better than the soap did.
Chase leaned into her, and Faith was surprised at how smooth he was, given their size difference. His lips touched hers and she felt all of her fear recede as the warmth of Chase’s lips delivered the best kiss she’d ever had in her entire life.
Despite her anxiety, his lips were as expert at coaxing her lust out of her as he was at coaxing the football into the hands of his teammate and scoring a touchdown.
But the kiss didn’t last nearly long enough, and then he was pulling away from her.
She opened her eyes, not even knowing how they’d closed in the first place. She felt confused, dazed almost. “That was surprising,” she said, swallowing.
“Good,” he replied, turning and walking away from her. “So, you’re going to watch the game along with everyone else,” he said. “But then I want to see you afterwards.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?” he asked, giving her a look.
“Not really,” she admitted.
A brief smile flickered on his face and then disappeared. “You’ll know when I’m joking because it’ll make you laugh.”
Faith couldn’t make sense of any of this. “Wait—so I don’t understand how—“
“What’s your phone number?” he asked her, picking up his water bottle again and taking a sip.
She stood there, her mouth just hanging open.
Chase Winters kissed me, and now he wants my phone number. This is getting seriously weird. Like, impossibly, ridiculously, insanely weird. Am I on a hidden camera show or something?
But she told him her number just the same, and he nodded his head as if this sort of arrangement was the most normal thing in the world. Which she supposed, for him, it probably was. “Cool,” he said. “See you later, then.”
He smiled. “You might be surprised that some of us jocks actually have a brain in our head and this other thing called a memory.”
“I didn’t think you couldn’t remember it, but I just figured—“
“Well I guess you figured wrong,” Chase said. “I keep hundreds of plays in my head,” he said, turning and pointing his index finger at his temple. “I know all the other teams’ defenses, individual player tendencies, which guys like to rush the quarterback and when. I think I can manage to remember your phone number.”
Faith sighed. “Well I came here with my family, so…”
“When the game’s over, lose them,” he told her, like it was nothing.
“Ummm…okay, so….”
He turned his broad, heavily muscled back to her and she saw there was a lot more ink there as well. “Have fun watching,” he said.
As Faith left, she wondered just how many meanings a sentence could have.
* * *
Faith had been in a kind of fog ever since meeting Chase Winters, and time had seemed to go by both fast and slow, all at once.
In her head, one thought kept circling and circling over and over.
Chase Winters kissed me.
She’d returned to the VIP clubhouse to find her father swilling beer and eating from the buffet table as if it was his sworn duty to consume everything in sight.
Her mother was drinking and occasionally arguing with her father, and Krissi was morose and on her cell phone texting for the most part.
They’d all asked her to describe the “meet and greet”, and surprisingly, Faith had pretty much lied to their faces about it. Lying wasn’t usually her style, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to confess anything about what had really occurred.
She claimed it had been a boring, run-of-the-mill kind of event where players had given autographs to fans and then everyone had gone their separate ways.
Later, when the teams took the field, Dad started to comment on Chase.
“Keep your eye on the new QB. The guy is an animal,” Dad said, almost reverently, before chomping down on a cheeseburger slider. “If he can stay healthy, he’s going to break every damn passing record in the league, just like he did in college. Remember I told you that.”
“Oh, you don’t know nothing,” Mom replied from her seat, swatting at the air.
“I don’t know anything?” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re the one who can hardly dress yourself these days.”
“I dress fine.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you do. That’s why this morning you tried to wear a pair of jeans with a hole in the backside.” He shook his head and drank more beer.
That led to more yelling back and forth between her parents, and Faith resorted to tuning them out and walking as close as she could get to the window overlooking the field.
Everything was bright and crisp—the green of the field, the colors of the players’ uniforms and helmets, the fans dressed in team jerseys and hats, cheering a dull roar.
New York kicked off and then New England received, running it to about the twenty-yard-line. That was when Chase took the field with the rest of the offense.
The roar from the crowd went from being dull to absolutely ear-splitting, and Faith found herself captivated. She looked at the enormous Jumbotron, and the screen showed a close-up of Chase getting set to take the ball as the offense and defensive lines crouched into position.
He kissed me. Chase Winters kissed me.
Her lips mouthed the words as Chase’s helmet filled the screen, his eyes focused and unafraid, his lips moving as he called out something unintelligible to her.
She was afraid of him and afraid for him, too, because this was a violent, bone-crushing sport and it was his first game.
Suddenly, it all happened at once. The football was snapped into Chase’s hands and he dropped back to pass. The defensive line of the opposing team appeared to be collapsing in on him quickly, and two players closed in for a tackle.
“No!” Faith cried, squinting as she prepared to see Chase hit and crushed to the ground beneath the opposing players’ weight.
But he made a quick sidestep at the last moment and then fired a pass to one of the receivers, who broke free for about a twenty-five yard run before going down.
The crowd, ecstatic at the first successful play of the game, erupted like they’d just won the Super Bowl.
“Didn’t I tell you about this kid?” Dad shouted. “Didn’t I say it?”
“Oh, shut up!” her mother screamed.
Faith would normally have been annoyed beyond belief at how her parents were acting, even though she should’ve been used to it by now.
However, not only was she calmer thanks to having moved away from home six months ago, but she also was transfixed by the game, and her connection to what was transpiring.
Chase had kissed her. He’d gotten her number.
Everything he did out there seemed somehow linked to what had happened earlier. After all, he’d taken precious time out of his day to be with her, to look into her eyes, and even to kiss her.
Something had happened between them, and Faith wanted desperately to believe it had been real.
But now she was scared that he was going to be hurt, or that he might falter and the fans would start booing him.
Every time Chase went out to do his job, Faith found herself secretly praying for his safety, clutching her hands close to her chest, clenching her jaw and watching his every move.
And yet he was having a truly marvelous game. At least, that’s how it seemed to her based on her limited knowledge of football and the crowds’ reaction.
Not to mention the scoreboard.
By halftime, New England was up 14-3.
Chase had thrown for one touchdown and actually run for a touchdown from about five yards out.
“The kid can’t miss,” Dad kept repeating, even when Chase wasn’t throwing a pass.
During halftime, her parents began arguing again, and Faith saw Krissi finally look up from her phone. Krissi’s eyes were desperate and tired as she exchanged a knowing look with Faith.
For the first time since meeting Chase Winters, Faith felt a surge of guilt, as she remembered just how bad things really were in her family.
She was used to feeling guilty for moving away from home and leaving her sister alone with their crazy parents these last six months, but she’d actually managed to forget that familiar sense of shame for just a moment.
Now, hearing Dad and Mom insult one another with slurred voices, Faith wished there was something more she could do. It was embarrassing and pathetic, and yet it was so completely normal at this point.
Krissi had turned seventeen, and she had one last year of high school, after which she’d be ready to leave home too.
She just has to make it a little while longer.
But Faith knew only too well how long a year felt in that household, and besides, Krissi’s grades weren’t so great anymore. Would she even be able to get free of them by the time all was said and done?
Nothing was certain.
Mercifully, the third quarter started, and everyone’s attention focused back on the game.
When The New England Nationals’ offense took the field again for the first time, the crowd at the stadium let out an earth-shattering cheer that had even Krissi looking up from her cell phone with wide eyes.
The applause was for one man and one man only: Chase Winters.
Everyone in New England had been arguing about whether or not he would be the savior of the team, or just another hype job. Even Faith knew this, just from overhearing conversations at her temp job.
It was such all pervasive water cooler talk that you’d have had to be living in a cave not to know what people around Boston thought about him.
There was apparently a long laundry list of high-profile college players who’d come into the NFL with all sorts
of fanfare, who’d then promptly fizzled out once they were faced with the higher quality of athlete found in the pro ranks.
As with anything, there was a fairly large and vocal contingent of New Englanders who believed that Chase Winters didn’t have the goods, that he would be at best an average quarterback, and more likely a complete dud.
But from where Faith was standing, she couldn’t believe that anyone had ever doubted him. She watched him stand there while bodies flew by him on all sides, and he was as composed as could be, throwing accurate pass time and time again.
“He’s shredding their defense!” Dad screamed at one point, when Chase threw a twenty-yard pass and the receiver caught it, running the rest of the way for a touchdown.
And it seemed that indeed, he was shredding the other teams’ defense, because as the game wore on, more and more it appeared that they had no answers for Chase’s quick and accurate passing. When they tried to rush him, he dropped back and threw a quick spiral to one of his players, and gained short yardage. If they tried to cover his receivers, he might find the slight opening to still get a pass through, or more likely Chase would take the ball and run himself.
Many times throughout the game, Chase ran for anywhere between five and ten yards with ease. New York seemed not to know whether to cover his passing or his running game.
By the time the game was wrapping up in the fourth quarter, it had turned into a slaughter. The score was 41-10, and Chase had thrown four touchdown passes, run for one, and then they’d also put up two field goals.
The crowd in the stadium was filled with jubilant fans literally dancing in the aisles.
As the stadium began clearing out, Faith pulled out her cell phone. When would he call? Was he seriously going to text or call after having the biggest game of his life?
No, of course not.
He’d been playing with her—he’d probably forgotten about her the second after she’d left the room.
“Come on, I need to take a leak before we go,” her father said, his voice slurred.
“Awww, shut up,” Mom replied, as they both lurched for the exit to the clubhouse.