SNATCHED (A Sports Romance)

by Harper James

  If Finn is floundering, it doesn’t show— he’s gazing at me, unblinking, unwavering, almost like watching me scramble for words is a mildly entertaining piece of performance art.

  I frown at him, “It’s not like you’re making it easy, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asks.

  “Just standing there like that. Making me feel weird.”

  “I didn’t even say anything,” he protests.

  “That’s exactly it! You’re just standing there quiet like you don’t have anything to say, and that’s making me feel like I need to say stuff, but I have too much I want to say but I don’t even know what it is,” I say.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Kenley,” he says, his voice laced with gruff emotion.

  “Well then you do, because the silence thing is killing me,” I say, shaking my head.

  Finn grins, wicked and clever and bright. “The options aren’t just talking or silence, you know.”

  I’m not sure what he means. I blink, open my mouth, try to guess—

  Finn sweeps in, and before I can jolt away in surprise, he’s got his arms around me, he’s lifting me up. My head tilts back instinctively, my hands linking behind his neck, and then our lips meet. He kisses me, long and deep and in the way I’ve been longing for ever since I last saw him. I inhale his scent, as his tongue teases at mine. When he breaks off the kiss, we leave our faces together, breathing in one another’s nearness; he kisses my cheek, my jawbone, my neck.

  “Finn—“ I say in a whisper.

  “Hm?”

  “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  Finn grins— he’s too close for me to truly see it, but I can feel it in his cheek against mine, in the way he holds me tighter at the words. “Can we stay together more than just tonight?” he answers huskily.

  And then he’s kissing me again— until the door to my sister’s hospital room swings open suddenly.

  “Miss Sullivan? Your sister would like to see you,” the doctor says.

  Chapter 19

  My sister isn’t pregnant— not anymore. Apparently, a quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage, but since no one really talks about it, no one knows that. For the next few days, I see Mandy battling with the entire thing. No, she didn’t want to be pregnant; yes, she might have ended it voluntarily anyhow. But to have the choice totally taken away, to have it just be gone, like a magic trick…that seems to be weighing on her.

  I notice the bottle of pre-natal vitamins we’d bought only two days before moving around the apartment, like she’s picking them up, setting them down, over and over and over.

  Finn provides a myriad of distractions— some scandalous, some not so much, some for me, some for Mandy. He cleans out the fridge— literally, cleans it out, including wiping out all the drawers— one afternoon, before his practice, and throws nearly everything away. I’m about to get spiky over the fact that he’d tossed some yogurt that I was pretty sure was still good, but Finn just smiles softly.

  “Trust me on this, okay?” he says, and kisses me. A few hours later, after Finn is gone, Mandy comes home. She opens the fridge and, after staring in confusion for a moment, lets out a long sigh.

  “Finn did it,” I say.

  “Really? It looks amazing. It looks…new,” she says, though I can tell new isn’t really the word she was going for. From the expression on her face, though, I think I understand. Everything in the fridge is something she bought while she and Bradley were together, or has a date on it that she thought she and Bradley would reach, or is in some way a product that she’s suppose to consume despite the fact that it, essentially, was created in another lifetime. Now, everything she buys will be new. From this lifetime.

  We order Chinese food instead, and it’s amazing.

  Most amazing, however, is what happens on Saturday, at the game.

  Finn gets Mandy and I tickets in the friends and family section, which means we’re practically sitting right on the field. The marching band plays the fight song as the team charges in, and after the coin flip the big screens begin playing a video of players answering the “who are you playing for” question they ask before every game. Finn, is up first; seeing his face on the screen makes me smile.

  “He’d better say you this time,” Mandy jokes, elbowing me in the side.

  “No kidding,” I laugh.

  Finn speaks. “Today I’m playing for a friend who is really going through a rough time, dealing with a common medical issue that’s having a big effect on his life.”

  I frown. Mandy turns to me. “Is he talking about me miscarrying?”

  “No, Finn said ‘he’,” I say, shaking my head. I look down at the field; Finn is grinning wickedly. “Who did he—”

  The second player who appears on the screen says more or less the same thing, as does the next, and the next. In fact, Adams is the only one featured who doesn’t say that he’s playing for a friend’s illness.

  I press my lips together— have I been so involved with Mandy that I missed one of Finn’s friends going through something serious? I worry about it for the entire game and, based on the headlines I’m seeing on my phone, so does the media. Everyone’s trying to figure it out, and no one can.

  Until after the game.

  “Holy shit. Holy holy holy shit,” Mandy says, spinning around in the student center parking lot, where half the stadium lets out. “Did you tell him to do this?”

  “No! I told him not to get in a fist fight with Bradley. And then we both told him we’d be cool with him getting revenge on him. Holy shit,” I say, spinning around right alongside her.

  There are posters on the windows. Fliers being handed out by students. There’s even a banner stretched over the entrance to the student center. They all say, GONORRHEA CAN HAPPEN TO ANYONE.

  Beside a picture of Bradley. It looks like the one from the rowing team’s website.

  “We’re just trying to raise awareness,” a sweet, elfin-faced girl says, thrusting a flier into my hands. I take it, eyes wide.

  “He doesn’t…he doesn’t have gonorrhea,” Mandy says, shaking her head.

  “Tell that to them,” I say, motioning at the crowd. I see cameras from the local news station capturing the moment, interviewing a girl from Harton’s dance team.

  “Honestly, I’m not surprised they all said they’re playing for him,” the girl says sweetly into the camera. “He’s often at the Football House events. They seem to really care about this guy.”

  “And did you know he was suffering from an STD?” The reporter asks, whipping the mic back to her mouth for a second, then shoving it toward the dance girl again.

  “Oh, no. I had no idea. Which…I think it’s pretty brave of Bradley to come forward and be the face of this, you know? But also, some of my friends are really upset right now. By not telling anyone, he might have infected a lot of people…”

  “Well, just another reason to make sure you’re using protection,” the reporter says, clearly nervous about the direction the conversation has gone. She throws it back to the studio, and the dancer goes springing off into the crowd.

  “You like it?” A familiar, sassy voice says. I spin around— it’s the bartender from Football House. He’s wearing a grin every bit as sly as Finn’s was, back on the field. His eyeliner is, as always, flawless.

  “You did this?” Mandy asks. I’m not sure her jaw has closed since the moment we stepped out of the stadium.

  The bartender shrugs. “I may have…stayed up all night at the print shop. But hey, I owed Finn one. He told off a douchey guy for me once that made fun of my eyeliner. And I sort of hate rowers.”

  “Bradley is going to lose his mind,” I say. “And possibly any shot he’s ever had at sleeping with someone at Harton again.”

  “That’s the idea,” Finn says— I whirl around, and see he’s behind me. There’s a crowd of admirers around him, calling his name, shouting for interviews, but it’s no use; he’s looking at me, and o
nly me.

  “You escaped the locker room fast,” I say, grinning.

  “I couldn’t want to see you,” he whispers huskily. Mandy rolls her eyes beside me, like we’re grossing her out— but she’s smiling. Finn motions around. “I didn’t punch anyone.”

  “This is going to be far longer lasting,” I answer. Finn reaches forward and takes my hand gingerly. A ripple of noise goes through the crowd. Even though we haven’t exactly been secretive about our relationship in the last week, doing this in front of a stadium’s worth of Harton fans is a level of “out” I’m not quite sure I’m ready for.

  What will my mom say? She’s going to see clips of this on YouTube, if nothing else. Dr. Reams might even be watching it live, if that local news camera is still running. There won’t be able take back, any—

  But before I can worry about any of that, Fin sweeps me toward him, kissing me deeply right there, in front of everyone. Because why keep a relationship this lovely a secret for a moment longer?

  Epilogue

  “Seriously? Over the bed?” I say, frowning.

  “Where else would we put it?” Finn asks, holding the framed Hercules poster up. It’s not that the art isn’t amazing— it is, a piece done by a local artist that I got Finn for his birthday this spring. It’s just that in the frame, the thing weighs about four thousand pounds, and I’m not so sure about sleeping with it suspended directly above my face. I give Finn a wary look.

  “Okay, okay, where do you want to hang it, then?” he asks, pulling the frame away from the king-sized mattress. I’ve never in my life had a king-sized bed, but moving in with Finn makes it more or less a necessity. The guy practically takes up a queen all on his own.

  “Put it in the living room, where it can be appreciated,” Mandy says, stepping into the room and throwing down a wad of tangled bed linens. I’m fairly sure Mandy only offered to help us move in together because the freshman players did all the heavy lifting— which they did astonishingly quickly. The furniture is all here and unloaded, leaving me and Finn to casually unpack for the rest of the afternoon.

  “Fine, fine,” Finn says, shaking his head good-naturedly, then carried the poster out of the room. Mandy watches him go, then grins at me.

  “Are you so excited? Or are you starting to freak out?”

  “About living with Finn?”

  “About the internship, stupid,” Mandy says, shoving me. I laugh,

  “I’m freaking out,” I say. Dr. Reams gave me a spot in the summer program, in the end. My mom told me to shove it back in his face, since it was pretty clear he offered me the spot not because I’m hyper-qualified, but because I’m dating Finn. I took it anyway, since it was too good an opportunity to pass up— and have big plans to take over the mathematical academia world to show guys like Dr. Reams where they can stick it. Success, after all, is even better revenge than a thousand flyers claiming you’ve got gonorrhea.

  “Well, good luck tomorrow. Call me if something goes wrong,” Mandy says. “Dinner after you get out?”

  “Yep,” I say, and hug her before she goes. I hear the door click shut behind her in the other room. It’s only a few moments before Finn re-appears, poster-less.

  “You know, it’s probably for the best that the poster is in the living room,” Finn says. “I don’t know how I’d feel about you staring at a poster of a literal god while we’re having sex.”

  “Afraid I’ll leave you, Greek myth style?” I ask teasingly.

  “In Greece, it’s Heracles,” Finn says with faux-seriousness. I scowl, then stoop to grab a handful of the linens Mandy dropped, which I throw at him. He laughs and swats them away, then comes toward me. I stoop to try and defend myself with more bed sheets, but it’s no use; Finn grabs hold of me and in one easy effort, swings me onto the bed, holding me there with one arm.

  “We’re supposed to be unpacking, you know. You have training in two hours. Whatever will they do without their fearless leader?” I say, but my voice is a daring whisper.

  “Two hours, hm?” Finn asks, lowering his mouth to my neck. He bites gently at the skin there, just hard enough to make me try (and fail) to squirm away. “Two hours alone with you, in our new apartment, and you want us to spend it unpacking?”

  “One of us has to be the responsible one,” I say, but I’m already arcing my body up against his, already feeling my stomach tingle in want. We’ve been together for almost six months, but I still find myself electrified whenever he touches me like this.

  “Responsible? We’ve got one more year in college together. We’re practically required by law to be irresponsible,” Finn answers, then slides a hand down my side, letting his thumb lift up just enough that he teases the side of my breast. I can’t stop the short moan of anticipation that rises from my throat; Finn makes a satisfied sound in response.

  “Okay…” I relent— as if I would have refused him. I’m not sure I ever have. He continues sliding his hand down my leg, then rotates it over my thigh and squeezes gently. I’m wearing the least sexy clothes I own— who dresses up for moving day?— but it clearly doesn’t phase Finn in the slightest. He tugs gently at the corner of my faded Harton sweatpants, which give up my modestly easily. I reach for the edge of my panties to help him, but he swats my hand away.

  “Not yet,” he says, and kisses my neck again. I exhale, trying not to look too excited. I love it when he’s like this— when he undresses me, when he kisses me, when he fucks me like I’m something to be admired and worshipped. He gathers my wrists in his and lifts my arms up over my head. “You know, moving in with me is probably going to mean we have sex far more often. Are you sure you’re ready for that? Think you can handle it?” he says, pushing my shirt up over my breasts with his free hand. He lowers his mouth and licks my nipple through my bra.

  “I think I’ll manage,” I say hoarsely, trying to press my nipple farther into his mouth. He allows it, sucking on me gently as his free hand snakes underneath my back to unhook my bra. He pushes it up and off my breasts with his chin, then takes my nipple in his mouth again; I groan, and feel myself growing wetter at his touch.

  “I don’t know. We’ve still got a lot of firsts left to try. That’s awfully…taxing on your body,” he says, lifting off me. He releases my wrists and swings one leg over me. I bite my lip when I see his erection is already straining at his pants. He tugs my bra off and tosses it aside.

  “Try me,” I say, and there’s a tremble of anticipation in my voice.

  “I plan to,” Finn says, smiling wolfishly. He reaches down and hooks a finger through the bottom of my panties, tugging them down a tiny bit, letting the top of his hand brush against my pussy. My hips lift up to him, a smile passes over my lips; Finn drops his head to mine and kisses me, his tongue pushing into my mouth at the same moment one of his fingers presses up against my clit. I cry out, the sound swallowed by his lips against mine.

  “You know I love you, right?” he whispers to me.

  “I do,” I answer, the words tangled in my throat.

  “Good,” he says, smiling against me. The word has barely left his mouth before he spun me over onto my stomach. He reaches between my legs and strokes my clit to keep me still with pleasure as he tugs his pants down with his free hand. I feel his cock spring forward and slap against my bare ass cheeks, and my skin lights up in response.

  Finn continues to stroke my clit, but lets his hand wander along my ass, squeezing gently. I know he’s staring at me, staring at where he’s about to enter me, and rather than feeling shy, it makes me arc my ass toward him so he can get a better view. He wets his thumb in my pussy and teases my asshole for a moment, then lines his cock up with my pussy entrance.

  “Please, Finn,” I stammer when he pauses— he wants me to beg. He loves it when I beg, and honestly, I love it too. Needing him makes getting him all the more satisfying.

  “You’re lucky I’m impatient right now,” he says, and then pushes his cock deep into me in a single, swift thrust. I groan, a
sound that morphs into a scream of pleasure when he lifts my hips up against his so he can get even deeper. I still haven’t gotten over how it feels to be full of him, how it feels to have his weight on me, his body in mine.

  I gasp for air as his cock pushes against the inside front of my pussy, the place I’m most sensitive. I throw my arms over my head to brace myself against his motion, and he uses my position to grind into me with each stroke, twisting his cock side to side in me.

  “Still so tight,” he marvels, spanking me hard— I like it hard. He reaches forward and grabs my upper body, pulling me up against him, my back to his chest, his cock still in me, his hands massaging my breasts. I turn my head to the side and we kiss as I begin to lift myself up and down on his cock until he closes his eyes with pleasure.

  “Two hours,” I pant, sweat beginning to run down my back. He nods— at least, I think he does, and wraps one arm around my body to stabilize me, then lowers the other to stroke my clit as I ride him. “That means we both have plenty of time for another few rounds.” I’m not entirely sure he can understand my words— I can barely understand them. He gets my point, though, when I pump harder on him, swinging my hips forward a bit with each stroke like I know he loves.

  He won’t be able to stop me; I won’t be able to stop myself.

  “Kenley,” he says, the word half a swear.

  “Come,” I gasp. My skin is fire, my heart is pounding, and I won’t be able to hold my orgasm back for long. I feel his cock tighten in me, throb against my pussy. I clench myself around him, and he moans. “Come in me,” I beg. It’s the last thing I’m able to say before I’m swept away by the force of my own orgasm. It hits me like a wave, and I fall backward, losing the ability to ride Finn’s cock. It’s just as well— the moment I collapse back against him, he grabs me tighter and takes a staggered breath. He cock throbs, and I feel the heat of his come filling me as he shudders against my body.