Small Town Daddy: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  Like Gibson, pressing me up against the base of the statue, his mouth on my neck, his hands down my panties. I’d moan into his kiss as he pressed his fingers deep inside me, sending shivers of pleasure along my spine.

  I found myself blushing as I left class. Gibson working my body was on my mind no matter what I did.

  Back home, I quickly got into the shower. I had to meet Gibson in an hour, and I hadn’t picked out what I wanted to wear yet.

  I felt like I was in and out of my closet maybe fifty times before I finally settled on something simple: a pair of tight black jeans and a tight gray T-shirt. I didn’t know what Gibson thought this was, but I didn’t want him to think I was trying too hard. Still, I wanted to look good.

  I finally emerged from my bedroom with fifteen minutes to spare. Harper looked up from the couch.

  “I thought you’d never leave,” she said.

  “How do I look?”

  “Pregnant.” She grinned. “And hot as fuck.”

  “Thanks.” I sighed. “It’s weird, but I’m nervous.”

  “What’s there to be nervous about? You’re already having his baby.”

  I gave her a look while she laughed at her own joke.

  “See you later,” I said, and left the apartment.

  She had a good point though. I had no reason to be nervous. Whether or not this went well, I was still having Gibson’s baby, and nothing was going to change that. If he was serious about stepping up and being a part of the baby’s life, then he was going to do that no matter what.

  I felt a little better as I made my way back to campus, riding my bike. I parked and locked it with just enough time to make it to the statue.

  Gibson was leaning up against the stone, his arms crossed, when I approached. He smiled and stood up straight as I walked up to him.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey yourself.” He smirked at me. “You look fucking nice.”

  “You look okay yourself.”

  He was wearing a pair of jeans and a tight athletic T-shirt that sort of clung to his muscles and made his chest look amazing.

  “I always look nice,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  He started walking and I had to hurry to catch up. “Where are we going?”

  “Dominick’s,” he said. “Ever been?”

  “No,” I said honestly. Dom’s was a bar on campus that was pretty strict about carding. By the time it was legal for me to go, I just had no interest in it anymore. The place was usually absolutely mobbed, and there was almost always a line outside waiting to get in.

  Tonight was no different. It was too early for peak partying, but Dom’s was still packed. There was a bouncer outside checking IDs as always, and there was a short line of people waiting for the place to clear out.

  Gibson didn’t bother getting in line. He walked right up to the bouncer and they shook hands like they were old friends.

  “This your girl?” the bouncer asked.

  “Avery, this is Jesse,” Gibson said, “best bouncer on campus.”

  “Damn right I am.” He laughed. “Go on in. Your table is in the back.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  Jesse let us both in and I shook my head. “What was that?” I asked him as we stepped inside.

  “They know me here,” Gibson said. “They save a table for me every once in a while.”

  I went to make a hilarious and biting joke, but the noise inside completely swallowed it up.

  Dom’s was packed. Groups of people were all over the place, carrying beers and pitchers from table to table. Music was playing, but I could barely hear it over the low roar of the crowd. The bar itself was dimly lit and more of a dive than anything else. Sports memorabilia from MD’s glory days was plastered all over the walls. Gibson moved confidently through the crowd, and more than a few people called his name as he passed.

  I felt so completely out of place. I was used to parties and hanging out, but I wasn’t used to going out with Gibson Evans. Everyone knew him, and we barely got ten feet into the place before some guy stopped him and started talking his ear off.

  Gibson had to extract himself from no less than four conversations before we made it to the table. It was a little two-person table in the very back corner of the place with a little “Reserved” sign on it.

  We sat down, and the noise wasn’t so bad in the back of the building. Gibson grinned at me.

  “So, what do you think?”

  I shrugged. “It’s a college bar.”

  “Pretty much. Sorry about the crowd back there.”

  “It’s okay. You’re kind of famous at this school.”

  He shrugged. “Guess so.”

  Just then the waitress came over. She was tall, blond, and smiled hugely when she saw Gibson.

  “Hey, Gibs!” she said. “How are you?”

  “Kelly, hey. I’m good. Can we get a pitcher of Miller and two menus?”

  “Of course. Be right back, Gibs!”

  She turned and left. I smiled at Gibson. “Gibs?”

  “People like to say they know me.”

  “She seemed very familiar.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe she was once.” He shook his head. “Look, you seem to know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Philadelphia,” I said. “Well, the suburbs of Philly.”

  “What was growing up there like?”

  “Good, I guess,” I said. “My parents are nice, super Catholic.”

  “You’re Catholic?”

  “Sure am. Went to Catholic school all my life.”

  “And here you are at MD. I bet your parents are proud.”

  “Very proud,” I said, laughing.

  “Do they know?”

  That stopped my laughter. “No, not yet.”

  “Shit. Didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”

  “It’s okay. They’re just, you know, really religious. I’m afraid to tell them.”

  He nodded. “I get that. I’m sure they’ll be there for you no matter what. They’re your parents.”

  “I guess so.”

  He smiled as Kelly returned with a pitcher of beer and two menus. She left and Gibson poured himself a glass. He went to pour me one but then stopped himself.

  “Fuck,” he said. “You can’t drink this, can you?”

  I smiled at him. “Nope. Sure can’t.”

  “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking.”

  “It’s okay. Have one if you want.”

  He made a face and then shook his head. “Nah. No fucking fun when you’re drinking alone.” He poured his beer back into the pitcher. “Hold on.”

  I watched as he stood and carried the pitcher over to a group of kids sitting nearby. He said something, and then they laughed and he placed the pitcher on their table. He came back a second later and sat back down.

  “There. Problem solved.”

  “You just gave it away?”

  “Can’t waste good beer.”

  I laughed. He seemed to be so easy around people and had no trouble walking up to a table of strangers like that. I had to admit, I envied that skill.

  “One time, my dad came home so drunk that he could barely stand,” Gibson said suddenly. “I was maybe ten years old at the time, but I had figured out what being drunk meant long before that. Anyway, this was normal for Dad, you know? So he looks me right in the eye and he says, ‘Son, if you don’t grow up to be rich and famous, you’re dead to me.’ I kid you not; he said that.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious? To a ten-year-old?”

  “Yep, to a fucking ten-year-old kid.”

  “Is that why you’re working so hard at football?”

  He grinned. “Maybe. I got into football because I wanted to get out of that shithole of a house. I think being good at it was all luck.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I bet you work hard.
”

  “I do work hard,” he admitted. “But in the end, I’m just playing a game, right?”

  “People care about it.”

  He nodded. “They do. You saw what it was like when I walked in here. But I’ll tell you something: People aren’t that nice when you don’t win.”

  I nodded. I’d never thought about that before. On the one hand, he was treated like a king on campus, given everything. But on the other, they expected everything of him, and if he didn’t perform, then they cast him aside.

  “Tell me something else about yourself,” he said.

  “When I was ten years old, I loved horses.”

  He laughed. “Horses?”

  “Loved them. I was obsessed. I don’t even know why now. I’ve never ridden a horse before. Probably never will.”

  “But you loved horses. That’s a common little girl thing.”

  “Yeah, maybe. In my mind, there was nothing cooler than horses, though.”

  “Wow. That is really cool.”

  I laughed. “Shut up. You said you want to get to know me.”

  “I do. Tell me something else.”

  “I’m a biology major,” I said.

  “I am too,” he answered. “But I’m going to school for finance.”

  “Very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That was the worst sex joke I’ve ever heard.”

  “You’ve definitely heard worse,” he said, grinning.

  “But seriously, you’re a finance major?”

  “Sure. Accountants make decent money. I figure I need some real skill to fall back on if this football thing doesn’t work out.”

  “Huh,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were just a dumb jock.”

  He grinned hugely at that. “Oh, I’m still a dumb jock. Don’t get me wrong.”

  “You know, I could use a specimen like you.”

  “Oh yeah? You can take me into the bathroom and study me right now if you want.”

  “Not what I meant.”

  “I think it was.” He leaned across the table. “I’d study you in return. I’d love to take copious notes on all the various faces you make as you come nice and hard on my cock.”

  I sighed, shaking my head. “No. I mean, I have a project for my advanced-level biology class. I’m supposed to do some kind of research project. I’d love to have an athlete like you to study.”

  His grin got wider. “I keep offering to let you study me, and you keep turning me down.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s because I know what you really want.”

  “And what do I really want?”

  “You want to get me in your truck again,” I said, smiling.

  “No, not my truck. Been there, done that. I was thinking someplace more exotic.”

  “Like where?”

  “Maybe the showers near the practice field,” he mused.

  “Are you kidding? Dirty athlete showers?”

  “What? Isn’t it every woman’s fantasy to get fucked by a big strapping athlete in the men’s locker room?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. I couldn’t believe the conversation had taken a turn like this, but he was surprisingly funny and charming.

  “It’s definitely not mine,” I said. “You guys are gross. I’d get athlete’s foot just breathing in there.”

  “Yeah, probably,” he conceded. “Can’t argue that.”

  I smiled and laughed at him, shaking my head. “You could at least pretend like you’re not gross.”

  “What can I say? I’m a man and I sweat.”

  “Oh, I know. I’ve experienced that.”

  He laughed. “Now who’s the one being dirty? Here I was under the impression that you were pretending like I never made you come nice and hard.”

  “You did get me pregnant, so I guess it’s hard to really pretend.”

  He smirked and was about to say something, but then he stopped. He frowned and pulled his phone from his pocket and then looked at me. “Fuck,” he said. “I have to take this.”

  “Sure.”

  He got up and disappeared around the corner. I stretched my legs and smiled to myself. I had to admit, I was surprised by how well this was going. I’d expected things to be awkward, but instead it was shockingly comfortable.

  I was even flirting with him despite myself. It was hard not to when he stared at me with those liquid blue eyes, so intense and deep. He was just too damn handsome, and I couldn’t hate him for very long before he pulled me back in with some dirty comment or joke that made me smile despite myself.

  After a couple minutes he came back to the table, and I could instantly tell that something was wrong.

  “I’m sorry to do this,” he said, “but I have to go.”

  “Oh,” I said, disappointed.

  “My tutor dimed me out,” he explained. “That was Coach. I’m in some trouble.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

  He laughed. “You didn’t. This was my idea.”

  “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

  “Look, stay here. Tell Kelly I said you can have anything you want and to put it on my tab.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “No, seriously. The university pays for it anyway, and I promised you a meal. Please, stay and eat. Hell, invite a friend if you want.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Thanks, Gibs.”

  He smirked at me then. “You’re welcome. See you later.”

  He turned and quickly left, disappearing back into the crowd.

  I had to admit, I was a little frustrated. Things had been going so well, and it sucked that he had to leave so abruptly. I wasn’t going to stay and eat on his dime, even though the idea of free food was pretty appealing.

  Still, he risked getting in trouble for me. That was a pretty good sign. Though it was a sign of what, I couldn’t be sure.

  Maybe I’d figure that one out soon.

  7

  Gibson

  I didn’t normally start my Saturday morning out with wind sprints, but for some reason I didn’t mind it today. My legs pumped as I sprinted down the field, hit the ten-yard line, touched it, and then sprinted back. I did that over and over, getting farther and farther out until finally I hit the fifty-yard line and ran all the way back.

  I was breathing heavily as I got back into the end zone.

  “Two minutes. Then you do it again,” Coach said.

  I nodded but said nothing. I knew he was punishing me for skipping my tutoring session, and I couldn’t really blame him. I had it pretty easy at MD, and the tutor helped keep me on track when I’d otherwise get derailed from all the practice I had to do. Coach took academics seriously, and I could tell he was pretty pissed off and disappointed in me.

  I’d never skipped a tutoring session before. I knew that if I wanted to go far with this team, I couldn’t start pushing back against the rules, as much as they annoyed me. I wasn’t the type of guy to play by the rules normally, but I was smart enough to know that if I wanted to achieve my greater goals, I needed to play the game.

  As the next set of sprints started, I couldn’t stop thinking about Avery. I kept seeing her face in my mind, the way she glared at me when I made jokes and the way she smiled reluctantly when she finally gave in to me. I couldn’t stop picturing her, even when I was exhausted, pushed to the limits.

  After that set I got a longer break, and then I ran another rep. The sun was beating down on us and the morning session was getting close to an end. Fortunately, I didn’t have class today, which meant I got a little break in the afternoon before doing throwing drills for a couple of hours later on.

  We were one week away from our opening game of the season. It was against some second-tier school, Blue Mountain State. We’d never lost to them in the years our schools had played, but they’d been getting better and better in recent years. I knew I couldn’t just blow it off.

  Still, my mind was elsewhere as practice finally came to an en
d. I was dripping with sweat and breathing heavily as I hit the showers. I cleaned myself off and got changed before heading back toward the apartment.

  I wasn’t in a talkative mood as I started back through campus. I couldn’t concentrate on anything but Avery and what I planned on doing for her.

  “Gibson, man, wait up.” Hynes caught up with me. “What’s your deal?”

  “Sorry, Hynes. Just not in the mood today.”

  “I saw Coach riding your ass,” he said. “You piss him off?”

  “I skipped tutoring yesterday.”

  He laughed, genuinely surprised. “You didn’t tell me that.”

  “I don’t tell you everything.”

  “Maybe not, but damn, man, what were you thinking?”

  “I wanted to see Avery.”

  “And your baby.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. You’re not telling people that, right?”

  “Not my place to tell.” He shrugged. “You better be careful, though. You know how Coach can be when he’s in a bad mood.”

  “I’ll win for him. That’s all he cares about in the end.”

  “True, but don’t push it. This is your year, man.”

  “It’s my year whether I go to tutoring or not.”

  Hynes just laughed and shook his head. “Whatever you say, man. See you later.”

  I nodded as he took off, heading in the opposite direction.

  Hynes was right, as much as I hated to admit it. This was my year, and it was my career hanging in my balance. It was going to be up to me whether I made it to the big show or blew it.

  Still, I had other worries that needed to be dealt with. Maybe if I could get this money thing worked out, then I could concentrate more on football.

  I took out my phone, making the decision. I scrolled through and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.

  “Well, I didn’t expect to hear from you today,” he said when he picked up the phone.

  “Roy,” I said.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need your help.”

  There was a short pause and then he started laughing. “I thought mister big shot college football star didn’t want anything to do with me.”