SNATCHED (A Sports Romance)

by Harper James

  “I’m embarrassed,” I admit.

  Finn smiles. “Don’t be. I want to do everything to you.”

  I exhale, relieved, exhausted. “I want that too.”

  Chapter 13

  “You have a hickey on your neck,” Mandy says flatly when I return to the apartment hours later.

  I jump, then duck to look in the entryway mirror. It’s small, but yep, Finn has left a hickey just under my jaw. I don’t even know when it happened.

  “I can’t believe you’re having sex with one of your tutoring clients,” Mandy says, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m having sex with my boyfriend,” I say bluntly, something Mandy and I have never discussed before. “And he happens to be one of my tutoring clients too.”

  “Yeah, okay. Your secret boyfriend,” Mandy says. She’s avoiding my eyes, staring instead at her laptop screen, which probably doesn’t have anything important on it— she just knows lack of eye contact drives me crazy.

  “I’m done talking about that. It doesn’t bother me, so I don’t really care if it bothers you,” I say, and start toward my bedroom, dropping my bag by the couch— because I know that leaving stuff out like this drives Mandy crazy.

  “Fine, sure. Secrecy is what you want, right?” Mandy asks, then lifts her eyes, catching mine just before I open my door.

  “Yes. Dr. Reams can’t find out, so it’s for the best,” I say, repeating things she already knows.

  “Cool,” Mandy says. “But are you sure it was your idea? It’s convenient for you, yeah, but are you really, really sure that you’re not just a convenient secret fuck buddy? If Finn is smart— and you seem to think he is— you don’t think he’s smart enough to get action from girls who won’t ask for anything else?” She pushes back from the kitchen table, leans back in her chair like a doctor offering a diagnosis. “No dates, no drama, no meeting parents. You’re the perfect booty call. And I bet you aren’t the only one.”

  “Whatever, Mandy,” I say.

  “You see him what, three times a week for a few hours? You don’t think that’s enough time for him to have something else on the side? Kenley, you are literally scheduled sex.”

  I pause, and hate myself for it— because I’m thinking too hard about what she’s saying. I mean, yes, I’m scheduled sex for Finn. But he’s scheduled sex for me too. And we get along great, even when we aren’t having sex. Even though we do always have sex. It’s a given. And just today I’d been worrying that I was a scheduled booty call…a fear I’d forgotten because of how great the sex we just had was.

  Well. And the green bean casserole. Though…

  “See?” Mandy says, just as I’m wondering— what if he’s done that before? Whipped up a meal to keep a good thing going?

  “It’s not like that,” I say, but I hear my resolve weakening. What if he didn’t name names not because of our tutor/client situation, but because there are multiple names? “Just because it’s possible doesn’t mean it’s happening. It’s possible Bradley is having sex with other girls too.”

  “Sure,” Mandy says, and shrugs. “But that’d mean he’s cheating on me. He’s breaking a clear arrangement. You don’t have that arrangement with Finn. You just have sex with him.”

  “That’s not true,” I say. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  “The kind of boyfriend you don’t go on dates with. And if you’re the only one who knows it, does it really make it true?”

  God, Mandy is so good at this sort of shit. I just had amazing sex with the guy, was all in for believing in our relationship, and now I’m questioning it even more than I was this morning.

  “Fine, I’ll talk to him about it next time I see him.”

  “Before your next scheduled session,” Mandy says.

  “Then what do you suggest?” I snap, putting my hands on my hips.

  Mandy looks almost apologetic. “Look, I’m not trying to make you mad. I’m just worried about you. Seriously. Having sex with a client isn’t like you. Having sex with a football player really isn’t like you. Thinking that you’re in a legit relationship with a football player? It’s like he’s hypnotized my sister.”

  “What do you suggest?” I press again.

  Mandy takes a breath, like she’s blowing out a number of additional statements she wants to make. “I’m going to a party at Football House tonight. Come with me. Watch what happens when he doesn’t know you’re there.”

  “He didn’t know I was there last time, and he didn’t do anything.”

  “Uh-huh. But what would have happened if he hadn’t seen you?” Mandy asks, and she has a point, I guess, sort of. “Look, let’s just go. No one knows you’re together, right? So no one is going to tell him you’re there. Just stay out of sight.”

  “And if nothing happens, will you lay off the two of us?” I ask. I sound confident— like I know nothing is going to happen. And I am. Sort of. Not really. I want to be right about this, but Mandy does have a point about Finn being very much not my type of guy. So he’s sweet to me, so he’s good in bed…if he’s also faithful, then this will prove it to Mandy and me and will make life so much easier.

  “If nothing happens, I promise, I’ll lay off. And I’ll tell Bradley to lay off too,” she says.

  I nod. “Deal.”

  Going to two Football House parties in such close succession feels weird. It feels even weirder wearing the least “me” clothes in Mandy’s closet. I hate jeans— they’re not that comfortable, no matter what anyone says— and worship sundresses, so naturally, Mandy has dressed me in skinny jeans and a crop top. It looks cute, but it’s nothing I’d ever choose for myself. I stare at myself in the mirror for a few moments before we leave. Is this wrong? Is this spying?

  Probably.

  Is this something I need to do? If only to get Mandy off Finn’s case

  Definitely.

  I tell myself that’s the only reason I’m doing it.

  We head toward Football House well after dark, cutting down side streets to get there faster. At the Football House gate, a freshman player lets us in without question. The party isn’t raging, yet— just small groups of relatively quiet people drinking their first round, perhaps their second if they’re early starters. Mandy steers me away from the bartender— “He knows everything and everyone. If he sees you, it’s all over.”

  “He doesn’t know about me and Finn— besides, I want a drink,” I complain.

  “Come on, let’s just go down the hall and wait. I’ve got a spy who will let us know when Finn arrives.”

  The “spy” turns out to be Bradley, who arrived after us, intentionally. Mandy is giggly and excited, like this actually is a crazy high-stakes mission, as she coordinates with him over text. Bradley is stationed by the entrance, pretending to just be casually drinking a beer. He’ll text when Finn arrives, then use those Left/Right/Ahead/Stop emojis to tell us where he’s going, so we can stay out of sight.

  “This is so wrong,” I mutter. “Finn literally has never done anything to make me doubt him. You guys are the ones who are worried.”

  “Well, and if this all checks out, then we won’t be,” Mandy says with a shrug. We’re in some sort of bedroom that’s been repurposed as a library, with a wide leather couch in the middle, the sort that looks kind of like one of those old school fainting couches. It’s a lot more formal than the rest of Football House, with a sort of scholarly feel rather than Football All The Time Always Football Is King vibe— which is probably why no one has so much as cracked the door since we arrived.

  “How are we going to see anything if we’re in here, anyway?” I say, running a finger across a row of Harton yearbooks, lined up on the closest shelf and leather-bound like classics.

  “I’ve planned a honey trap,” Mandy says, giggling.

  “A what?” I ask, wondering just how many spy movies she’s been watching lately.

  “Look, I didn’t want to wait around all night to test my theory that he’s a secret asshole. So I have a friend fro
m the gymnastics team who’s going to hit on him and try to lure him back there. This is where people come to have sex. It’s the only room with something similar to a bed,” she says, motioning to the couch.

  “Okay, that’s disgusting,” I say, looking at the fainting couch with disdain, “and also, that’s awful. You’re going to bait him? While he’s drinking? Mom would lose her shit. If we were guys and you were saying this, I’d get you arrested so fast—“

  “Okay, but we’re not guys, and I think Finn can handle his own since he weighs basically twice what this gymnast weighs,” Mandy says, rolling her eyes. “Besides, it’s not even eleven. Even if he’s been drinking, he can’t be even so much as tipsy by now. Relax.”

  “This is so gross,” I say, shaking my head.

  Mandy ignores me, instead pouncing at her phone when it buzzes. “Okay! She’s got him. She’s leading him this way. Come on, we need to hide.”

  My sister pulls me toward a closet that, upon opening, I see is nearly empty save for some spare paint cans and an empty condom wrapper. We hustle inside and close the door, leaving it open just a crack. I can feel Mandy’s excited energy, and I can’t help but be angry about it.

  “You want my boyfriend to cheat on me, don’t you?” I ask in disbelief.

  This quells her enthusiasm a little. She sighs lightly and looks up at me, then is quiet for a few moments. “Of course I don’t, Kenley. But I just don’t think he’s your boyfriend— not really. I think he’s a dick taking advantage of you. And I think if we make this a big dramatic adventure then you’re less likely to end up crying alone in your room, okay?”

  “I can take care of myself, Mandy. I’m not a kid,” I say.

  “But you’re still my little sister,” she reminds me, and looks like she might say more before she’s interrupted by the light sound of the room’s door opening.

  “Come on,” a female voice says, purring and dangerous and electric.

  “You’re not supposed to be in here,” Finn says. “You asked me to show you where the bathroom is, and this isn’t it.” I’m confident that it is, in fact, Finn, and my heart slows to a crawl. Is Mandy right? Has she been right all this time? I cast my eyes toward the floor, willing to listen but unwilling to see whatever’s about to happen.

  Please don’t do this, Finn. Please don’t do this. Please please please please—

  “You don’t strike me as the type who follows rules. Didn’t you get arrested for fighting Stewart Adams?” she says. Their shadows cross past the closet door; Mandy is watching intensely.

  “He had it coming,” Finn says, sounding annoyed. At least, I think he’s annoyed. I hope it’s not just wishful thinking on my part. I close my eyes.

  “Come on. We’ll be quick,” the girl says. There’s a squeak of leather as one— or both of them?— sits down.

  “Having sex on a couch my entire team has fucked on isn’t my style,” Finn says. My eyes open. I’m not sure where he’s headed with this— not sure if it’s better or worse or both if he suggests they go somewhere else instead. Would I rather see it with my own eyes, here, or have to imagine her in his dorm room, in the exact spot I’ve been?

  “We can do it any style you want,” the girl says voice like a whip. Finn inhales. Mandy finds my hand in the darkness and squeezes it.

  “Look, you seem like a nice girl. But I have a girlfriend.”

  Mandy gasps softly, the noise just low enough that I don’t think Finn or the girl could have heard it. My eyes find hers, wide and astounded, relieved and disbelieving. He’s not going to do it. He’s got a girlfriend — he’s got me. My trembling lips spread into a smile.

  But the girl isn’t done yet.

  “Ah, she’s not here though. And she’ll never have to know. I’m not looking for anything serious. I just think it’ll be fun. Come on,” she says, a tiny bit pleading.

  “Sorry. Though I hear Adams has an eleven-inch cock, mostly because he tells everyone— he’s never turned down some not-for-serious fun.”

  “It’s not really eleven inches. I’ve already been there,” the girl says, pouting— I can see, because my courage is bolstered, and I’m peering through the crack in the door. I want to push it open, want to dash toward him, but then he’ll know I was spying and…god, now that I know he’s a good guy, what I’m doing does feel incredibly, incredibly wrong, and—

  “Hey, Finn? There’s some older dude at the gate who wants to see you,” a new voice says from the room’s door.

  “Who?”

  “He didn’t say. You on probation for anything? Like, legal probation, I mean? It isn’t anyone from Harton.”

  “I’m basically always on probation for something, but I haven’t done anything. Shit,” Finn says, shaking his head, and I hear his loud footfalls as he storms from the room, his form passing by the closet door crack in a flash. Once he’s gone, Mandy pushes the door open.

  “I did my best,” the gymnast says, shrugging. She’s remarkably pretty, with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. “You landed the only faithful football player we’ve ever had,” she adds, to me.

  “Jacob Everett is still with that other girl, isn’t he? So we’ve had two. Two in two years! That’s a record,” Mandy says. I’m staring at the door, looking at the space Finn just burst through, my heart beating. We’re together. We really are together, and I don’t need to worry about anything, and Mandy and Bradley will lay off, and he really, truly wants me, just like he said—

  “I still think he’s a weird choice for you. But sorry I thought he was a dick,” Mandy says, barely capturing my attention.

  “Yeah— I— I need to go see him,” I say. A balloon in my chest is filling to the point of bursting, happiness and excitement and love— love?— yes, love, and I need to go to him right now. I push out of the room and race down the hall, to the porch, where I spot his massive form walking down the front path to the gate.

  There’s a freshman there standing between a man with silvery hair and the gate itself. I’ll just wait off to the side, I think. Once he’s done, then I’ll tell him what I did and he’ll forgive me and we can be together. I hustle down the steps as best I can in the godforsaken too-tight jeans, then slow as I reach the path. Finn is slowing as he approaches the gate.

  “Hey there,” the man with silvery hair says cheerfully.

  Finn freezes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, come on. I knew you wouldn’t answer if I called. I sent you a million emails.”

  “I deleted them,” Finn says, voice hard. Whoever this is, he’s no probation officer— no way would a sane person speak to their probation officer like this.

  “Let’s just talk. I hear you’re doing really well on the team. Got the NFL looking at you. Gonna make yourself draft eligible or wait another year?”

  “Fuck off,” Finn says, and spins around.

  He sees me— though it clearly takes him a moment to process that it’s me. A smile toys at the edges of his mouth, but it’s so firmly locked in a scowl that toying is the best it does.

  “Kenley,” he says quietly.

  “Hey,” I say, confused about what’s going on. “Who is – “ I take a few steps forward, and am almost to him when the silver-haired guy calls out, interrupting me.

  “You can’t ignore me forever, Finn!”

  “Watch me,” Finn calls over his shoulder.

  The man makes a flustered noise, and grabs for the gate— but the freshman player stops him easily. The man shouts over the freshman’s shoulder, “I’m your father! No matter what, I’m still your father.”

  My eyebrows narrow; Finn shuts his eyes and shakes his head. There’s rage emanating from him, a stronger version of the rage I saw just before he punched Adams. Before he can do something he regrets, I shoot my hand forward and grab his wrist.

  “Let’s get out of here?” I say.

  He squares his shoulders, and I can tell he’s a to fight me.

  “Finn…”

  “There�
��s an exit through the back,” Finn answers, and wraps an arm around me as we hurry away.

  Chapter 14

  We walk in stony, hard silence from Football House, Finn avoiding my eyes, his hand firm in mine. He feels more robot than human, almost, with the way he’s taking stiff steps and appears to be forcing himself to blink. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t ask; the farther we get from Football House, the less worried I am about admitting to him that I was spying, and the more worried I am about that man— his father— appearing.

  I cycle through what Finn’s told me about his dad, which isn’t much. That he walked out on Finn and his mother. That he drank, and was a mean drunk. That he hasn’t seen him in ages. Before now, I’d gotten the impression that Finn was over whatever damage his deadbeat father caused, but seeing him like this proves that the damage was loosely covered up, at best.

  At first, I think we’re headed toward his dorm room— we’re going in the direction of the stadium. At the last moment, however, we veer off. Finn leads be down a series of steps, to the stadium’s loading docks, which are dark and spooky at this hour. He grabs for a door and tries to pull it open; when it’s locked, he immediately reaches into his pocket for his keys, and uses a large brass one to unlock the door. It opens into a corridor, wide and long with concrete floors and painted brick walls. Finn walks briskly down it, so briskly that given our size differences, I’m nearly stumbling to keep up.

  “Finn, slow down. Please?” I ask.

  He does so, then stops and turns to me.

  We stand in the hall, like by a scattering of emergency lights and little else. It’s a little horror-movie-esqué, to be honest. “Where are we going?”

  Finn squeezes my hand. “You’ll see.”

  I nod, and Finn turns, then leads me farther down the corridor at a much slower pace. We take a few turns, then appear in a long tunnel. Suddenly, it’s clear what’s at the other end— the football field. The stadium’s emergency lights are on, but they’re dim enough that I can see stars upon stars in the open night sky above.