SPIKED (A Sports Romance)

by Harper James

  Piper laughed. “Well then guess what, Jenna? Jacob is in trouble too, because he’s forever fucking girls in that house.”

  “See, that’s where you’re wrong. Jacob goes to the garden. Or to the alumni building. Or his apartment. Not technically in Football House, which means the contract doesn’t apply.”

  Piper’s face paled, and mine felt a swell of amazement. Was Jenna telling the truth?

  “So you’re going to call the papers— whatever papers are posting this shit about Sasha— and tell them you lied. That you’re a stupid girl in need of attention, bitter that she didn’t get to fuck Jacob Everett, and that you made all that bullshit up. That Sasha is the best thing to ever happen to Jacob.”

  “You’re over-reaching,” Piper said, regaining her composure. “Harton isn’t going to throw their only real quarterback off the team because he has consensual sex in some dead guy’s house.”

  Jenna shrugged. “Probably not. You’re totally right. But Harton also isn’t going to let the football team continue to use Football House if there’s a risk of athletes getting themselves in trouble. So, do you want to tell everyone that you and Adams ruined everyone’s fun? Or should I? I mean, I feel like people will want to know that you’re the one who got the whole place shut down. They’ll probably turn it into a cocktail hall for alumni before or after games. You know, for fundraising stuff.”

  Kiersten gasped and gave Piper a horrified look. Piper’s face contorted into something twisted and angry and, frankly, terrifying. Jenna smiled sweetly at her, then looked at me. “Ready to go?”

  “More than ready,” I said, and followed Jenna toward the door.

  “Oh!” Jenna said, glancing back. “By the way, Piper— I slept with Adams too, and eleven inches isn’t all that great when he clearly has no idea how to use it.”

  ***

  Jacob’s injury was, to my relief, not as serious as it could have been. The Clemson game had definitely stressed it, but a couple of weeks later he was back in action and better than ever.

  Jacob the conquering hero had finally returned.

  The fact that he’d bounced back so resoundingly from his injury actually seemed to work in his favor, even, and rumors of him being a top draft pick filtered across the internet, the newspapers, the school. It made me smile each time I saw a new report, even though my heart continued to ache for Jacob.

  A few times I caught myself thinking I might be starting to pull myself out of the hopeless pain I was feeling at being apart from him, only to be tossed back into sorrow when I saw someone that looked rather like him downtown, or even when I simply passed the alumni resort, or ate feta fries.

  “Just text him. Don’t even call. Text. Send an emoji, for gods-sake,” Jenna groaned as she and I walked toward the sciences building one day. I’d continued to stay with her the past couple of weeks and it was a relief not to have to deal with my suitemates.

  I shook my head. “No, no— I care about him, but it’s pretty obvious we aren’t going to work out.”

  “Why do you think that?” Jenna asked, looking astounded.

  I shrugged. “He knows where to find me. He could have tried to talk to me if he wanted to.”

  “Did you consider the fact that maybe he was trying to respect your break up?” Jenna asked. “You’re the one who dumped him.”

  I shrugged. “It wasn’t really that simple. I just wanted him to fight for me, but he wouldn’t even stand up to his parents on my behalf. Now that he’s playing again, now that he’s off the injured list, now that Adams isn’t breathing down his neck…if he wanted to try to prove to me that he still wants to be together, he’d find me. But he hasn’t. So it must not be that important to him.”

  Jenna scowled. “Worst. You are the worst. Call him. Tell him that.”

  I swallowed and admitted the truth. “If I call him, there’s a pretty big risk he’ll say no. That he’s over it. So…I’ll guard my heart, thanks. It hurt too much the first time, leaving him.”

  Jenna nodded and sighed. “Alright. See you tonight for dinner?”

  “Yep, see you there,” I said, and made my way into my anthropology class. I took my usual seat, by the front. I loved it, and sorely wished I could double major in the subject. But…that wouldn’t get me out of college in three years, and I had my long term plans to consider.

  Plans that, without Jacob in them, seemed a little duller than they once had.

  Class began, and I pored myself into the material, listening raptly and taking notes as quickly as possible on my laptop (no way could I manage to follow along writing longhand). The period was nearly over when the door in the back of the class opened. I didn’t pay it any attention, and continued to type until the professor stopped speaking.

  “Can we help you, Mr. Everett?” he called out.

  I froze, my fingers above the keys, my heart thumping. I turned my head slightly, just enough to look toward the door with my peripheral vision. It was Jacob— of course it was Jacob— standing on the steps, gray t-shirt, basketball shorts, tall and broad and every bit as gorgeous as I remembered him.

  “Sorry, Professor— just needed to talk with Ms. Copeland quickly, if you don’t mind,” Jacob said, grinning. His teeth were so stupidly beautifully white and I remembered again how much I missed his smile.

  “Of course— if you could step out into the hallway so we can finish,” the professor said to me.

  “No— I need to stay for the end of the lecture,” I said quickly, without looking Jacob’s way. I wanted to go with him, badly, but he couldn’t just barge in here like this. He knew how important school was to me, after all. Still, something was twisting in my stomach, and it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.

  “I’ll wait, then,” Jacob said. I finally dared to meet his eyes, still slate blue and stunning. He gave me a sly, pleased look. “I liked it last time I sat in, after all.”

  “Of course,” the professor said. Jacob slung himself into the desk beside me, and I couldn’t stop a smile from sneaking to the corners of my mouth. I raced to remember all the reasons I shouldn’t be smiling over him, shouldn’t even be happy to see him, but nothing came immediately to mind. I tried to keep my eyes ahead, to focus on the lecture, but Jacob’s scent was taking over my thoughts. I inhaled sharply when a piece of paper slid across my desk. It sat folded for a moment— a long moment— but finally, I unfolded it. In barely legible handwriting:

  9:30 pm

  Manhattan Bar

  I stared at it for a long moment— the note totally identical to the one he’d given me ages ago. Jacob’s eyes were on me, a gaze that seemed to carry literal weight. It settled over me, and I focused on breathing. I could say yes. He was here, after all. Wasn’t the fact that he still wanted me— or at least, wanted to talk to me— something?

  I dared to look at him, and I saw he wasn’t smiling anymore. He looked intense, serious, wanting. After a moment of eye contact, he lifted his eyebrow, asking me to answer the note.

  I exhaled. This was ridiculous. He was going to get drafted into the NFL, and I was a college freshman. His parents were the actual worst. And he’d never stood up to them for me—he never would.

  Jacob was a nice guy, but he wasn’t a partner, not someone long term. I cycled through this over and over and over, until I had the nerve to write a response.

  No.

  When I handed the note back to him, I had to firm my jaw to keep it from trembling. Jacob took it, read it, but didn’t move for a long while. Then he scribbled something else down and passed the note back.

  Literally anywhere.

  At literally any time.

  I looked at the note, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. No. No, no, no, no, this was sweet, and nice, and romantic, but romantic gestures didn’t change compatibility, didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t fought for me when I’d needed him to. I couldn’t bring myself to write anything, this time, but I shook my head once.

  “Why not?” Jacob asked.
/>
  It startled me, taking me a moment to process the fact that he’d said this out loud. The class had fallen silent, professor included. Jacob didn’t look angry, exactly, but rather perturbed.

  “Why won’t you see me?” Jacob asked again. A titter ran through the class, and I felt my face heat up. My fingers started to shake a bit from the stress of it all, but I finally gathered the courage to respond.

  “We’re just not meant to be, Jacob. I think you know that,” I said lowly, trying to keep everyone from hearing— there was no need for what would surely be a blow to his pride to be broadcast through the lecture hall.

  To my surprise, Jacob smiled and shook his head, like I’d told a mildly funny joke. Suddenly he got to his feet. “Sasha Copeland, I’m standing up in front of an anthropology class, which I’m not even taking, and practically groveling. Believe me when I say that I’ve never pursued someone like this before. I’ve never wanted to before. You know my reputation, what it was before you got here—“ the class chuckled collectively, and even the professor nodded a little— “but then I met you, and that all changed.”

  “Jacob, come on,” I said quietly. “It’s too complicated.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” Jacob answered, still speaking at full volume. He wanted everyone to hear this exchange. “Yeah, I’ll admit— and I think you know this— at first, I wanted you because it was such a crazy challenge when you didn’t respond to me. But then you became all I could think about. Football used to be my life, Sasha, and when it was gone, you were all I had. Now I’ve got football back and as it turns out, it’s not enough anymore. If I don’t have you, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that really matters to me is having you in my life again.”

  Now the room gasped; I saw a few people had pulled out their cell phones and were taping the entire exchange. I hunted for words, but could find none, though I felt my eyes growing watery as I finally let my eyes lock on Jacob’s.

  He kept talking. “When I was getting carted off in that ambulance after the Clemson game, everyone was talking about how maybe my career was over, but all I was thinking about was how sad I was that you weren’t there that day to watch me play. When Adams and Piper released that pathetic video, all I could think about was how you must have felt watching it.” He took a deep breath, then let it out. “And the NFL draft is coming up. That’s what I’ve spent my entire life waiting for. But all I could think about when I woke up today is how I haven’t kissed you in way too long. But I was trying to let go, because I thought maybe I wasn’t the right guy for you, like you told me the last time we were together.” He stared at me for a moment before continuing. “Except I realized today that I am the right guy for you, whether you know it or not. And I’m ready to prove it to you. So I’m not going to wait till tonight, or tomorrow, or the weekend to say this to you. I’m in love with you, Sasha, and…” he rubbed the back of his head and laughed a little, “that is particularly insane, given that you’ve never even been to a football game.”

  “Seriously?” the professor asked.

  “Seriously,” Jacob said, then turned back to me.

  I was crying now, even though I was fairly certain it was making me look snotty and red-cheeked and generally unattractive.

  He said he loves me. In front of everyone.

  Jacob was watching me with stars in his eyes. He offered me his hand; I wiped the tears from my face, then accepted it, and rose to stand in front of him. He looked more confident now, that cocky expression spreading along his cheekbones— and it was a welcome look.

  “Alright,” I said, shaking my head, laughing, crying, disbelieving. “Alright, alright.”

  “Alright what?” Jacob asked teasingly.

  “Alright to everything,” I answered, and Jacob laughed in a loud, full way, then pulled me toward him, wrapping me in his arms, lifting me off the ground, and pressing his lips to mine. My classmates whistled and gasped and cheered but the sound didn’t matter— all that mattered, in that moment, was the feeling of being in Jacob’s arms again. The feeling of being with him again. The feeling of knowing that we were going to try, at least, to make this work.

  “Hey,” he whispered against my mouth. “I’m dying here.”

  “What?” I asked, confused, leaning forward to kiss him again.

  He met my lips, then said, “I sort of just told you I love you, and I’m dying waiting to hear it back. If I’m going to hear it back.”

  I laughed, pointed my toes at the floor— he had me lifted at least a foot off the ground, and the feeling of my toes dangling made me feel weightless and perfect and protected in the best of ways. I pressed my lips against his cheek, then whispered in his ear.

  “I’m in love with you too.”

  Epilogue

  “As you can see here, we’re at home with Jacob Everett, who we believed will be selected in this seventh round of the draft,” the sportscaster said— though the monitor was low, so I could just barely hear the words. Jacob was sitting beside me, cell phone in his right palm, my hand in his left.

  I could feel his pulse racing, it was so strong.

  “He’s there with some of his Harton coaches, you see his parents in the background and a few teammates. Right beside him, there, that’s his girlfriend Sasha, known around the campus as the beauty who tamed the beast— apparently Jacob was quite the ladies man before he met her!” one of the other sportscasters said, grinning at the prospect.

  “Definitely a full house there— are they at home?”

  “I believe that’s the apartment he shares with his girlfriend, yes— and oh! Looks like he’s getting a call now,” the announcer said.

  The cameras were trained on us as all of this was said, and it hit me that a lot of people were watching us. Live. Right then and there.

  Indeed, Jacob’s phone was trilling in his hand. He stared at the unknown number for a moment, the looked at me. His eyes were wavering, overwhelmed. Terrified.

  “Answer it,” I said breathlessly. The room was silent— though I could hear the eager crying of Jacob’s mother behind us. A lifetime of practices, of training, of work, all leading up to this moment.

  Jacob lifted the phone to his ear. It was clear he was trembling, a fact that the cameramen who had been stationed in our apartment all morning zoomed in on— I saw the image grow larger on the nearby monitor. I watched Jacob’s eyes as they grew wider, watched his mouth as it twisted into a smile and sob and relief all at once. I was grinning in the biggest, stupidest way but couldn’t stop myself— it was happening. Everything Jacob had ever worked for was happening.

  “Yes sir,” Jacob said into the phone. “I’d be honored, sir.”

  The coaches behind us began patting one another on the back, shaking hands; I saw Mr. and Mrs. Everett embrace tightly and my heart actually went out to them, I felt their joy so acutely.

  I thought about how quickly and definitively Jacob had shut his parents down the last time they’d tried to undermine our relationship. It was months ago now, but I could still remember how his mother had made yet another comment about Jenna in front of me, and this time Jacob hadn’t let it go.

  He’d told both his parents in no uncertain terms that he loved me, that he and Jenna were just friends, and that if his folks continued to be anything other than generous and kind to me, they’d be buying their own tickets to whatever games he played in the future.

  The message must have been received loud and clear, because from that day on, Mr. and Mrs. Everett had been nothing but gracious and warm to me. Sure, it was going to take a lot of time for me to truly forget the way they’d treated me in the beginning, but I knew time would heal the old wounds eventually.

  As it was, I’d been so consumed with moving in together, building a life together, being with the man of my dreams—the last thing I even thought about these days was the few times Jacob’s mother had said something rude to me.

  I came back to the present as his mother actually gave me a smile and I retu
rned it, marveling at the way the world worked sometimes.

  Sometimes, it turned out, things actually got better and not worse.

  Sometimes the good guys really did win. I looked at Jacob as he continued to listen to whatever was being said on the phone. The biggest moment of his athletic career had arrived and it felt so incredibly intense, my heart was pounding.

  The phone call took less than a minute— an insanely short amount of time, really— and when Jacob finally lowered his cell, he looked shaken. I wrapped my arms around him and he leaned against me, his chest shaking, his breath hard and fast. The room cheered, someone unmuted the television and ESPN music flooded our living room.

  “It’s real,” Jacob said in my ear. He stood up, pulling me along with him, hugging me tightly. “I’m a pro football player. This is really happening.”

  “I’m so proud of you,” I said back, and he kissed me, again and again and again.

  I looked into his eyes. “Where are you even going to be playing?”

  He grinned broader. “Atlanta. You think I’d move away from you?”

  I laughed. “I could have changed schools, you know.”

  “I’d never ask you to do that,” Jacob said seriously, then kissed me again. “You never ask someone you love to give up their dreams.”

  I ran my fingers along the nape of his neck, smiling at him, not caring at all that the cameras were catching every moment, that the room was full of people, that this clip would likely be re-aired time and time again on news stations. Not caring one bit that I, a girl who once upon a time hadn’t been to a single football game and was devoted to school, was in love with a NFL quarterback who’d barely attended class.

  And he was in love with me.