The Balled And The Beautiful: A College Sports Romance Story

by Chance, Nicole

  "What do you mean-" she began. But before she could finish there was a deafening crack from down the hall and the sounds of shouting and pounding footsteps. The window in the sitting room exploded inwards, a round metallic object clattering to the hard wood floors. The man swore, lurching forward to grasp her wrist, dragging her from the bed and onto the floor.

  Chapter 3

  Amanda's thoughts fled as another loud explosion filled the apartment and some kind of smoke bloomed in the living room. Her limbs felt numb with panic as she lay on the floor. Distant shouts filled the room, but the words were just a noisy blur. A dark pair of eyes appeared in her field of vision, narrowed in concentration.

  She thought he called her name. She wasn't really sure.

  A ragged yell was dragged from her as he lurched away. He reached underneath the bed stand beside them before spinning to face the dark clothed man that came around the corner. A sharp bang made her reach toward her protector, a new wave of panic washing away anything but a desperate need for him to live. That shot couldn't have hit him. It couldn't have.

  But he remained standing, and a thud had her gaze shifting to look over at the intruder through the gap beneath the bed. He lay collapsed on the floor, gun laying useless by his motionless hand.

  "UP!" Amanda cringed at the shout. When at least her eyes followed his command, he held out a hand to her. The hand that wasn't holding a sleek black pistol. She stared at the weapon, indecision paralyzing her.

  "Come on!" he insisted, glancing towards the door. He let off another shot, but the sound of cracking wood instead of falling flesh made it seem unlikely he had hit anyone. "Get up!"

  He shook the hand reaching for her urgently. A man holding

  A gun, who had possibly just killed someone, was offering her his hand. But even as he stood there, pistol pointed towards the hallway, his eyes were gentle.

  Anxious perhaps, but gentle. So she grasped his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. It was warm and surprisingly soft, wrapping around hers firmly as he drew her upwards. He tucked her under his arm, shooting towards the door again. She could feel the shot resonate through his body and into hers, his arm tightening around her waist. Another dark figures ducked away from the ruined doorway.

  "We need to go," he murmured, his eyes tight with strain. She shouldn't have been able to hear him over the shouting, but it was like his voice followed the reverberation of the gunshot straight into the core of her being.

  Before she could say anything he shot the empty doorway again, pulling her back towards the balcony she had been staring out of only minutes before. He backed through the open door, shoving the gun into his pants as they did. He released his hold around her waist, climbing over the metal balcony railing.

  "What-" she glanced down towards the street. They were three horribly tall stories up and she could hear men still shouting behind her. Though they did seem to be avoiding stepping into the doorway for the moment.

  "Come on," he interrupted. He tugged at her and she grabbed the edge of the railing, staring at him in terror. He couldn't be serious. She could jump from here! It was impossible. She would die.

  "You're crazy!" she squeaked, pulling back and stepping away from the railing. His eyes flashed towards the door and for the first time she saw real fear in their brown depths. It only lasted for a moment.

  "Please, Amanda, you have to trust me." His eyes returned to hers, pleading along with his words. A shot rang out from the hall, cracking the wall beside the balcony. She shrieked, stumbling towards him. His arm wrapped around her again and all that separated them was the ornate metal.

  "Trust me," he repeated calmly, his hand tightly gripping at the back of her cotton shirt the only thing betraying his tension.

  And for some inexplicable reason she did.

  "Okay," she whispered. Before she could think about it he had lifted her up, helping her clamber over the rail.

  "Alright," his voice rumbling in her ear. "Now duck down, move your hands down the rail as low as you can go."

  She did as he asked, crouching at the bottom of the rails.

  He did the same, one of his hands resting warm on her back.

  "Now, I need you to hang from the bottom of the balcony. Just grab that bottom horizontal bar and lower yourself down." She glanced at him in renewed terror.

  "I can't fall that far!" she yelped, hands clutching at the metal desperately.

  "Trust me," he said again. She swallowed, feeling tears prickling at her eyes.

  "Okay." Her voice was wavered, and with his help she shifted, slowly levering herself until she hung, two stories above the cobblestone street. Another shot rang out, and there were footsteps inside the room. The men seemed to have realized there were no more shots coming from their direction. Her fingers burned as she fought to hold herself up. The man followed her down, lowering himself much faster than she did, but just as he hung down beside her his hands disappeared from the rail she held so tightly.

  "No!" she yelled in panic. Her heart lurched as she twisted, trying to see where he had fallen.

  Warm arms wrapped around her knees. She looked down and found him grinning up at her from the balcony below.

  "Let go," he whispered. "I've got you."

  She did, hesitantly, but his grip didn't waver. He stepped back fully onto the balcony before letting her slide down until her feet touched the ground once again. His tight arms didn't loosen, and she was grateful for that. Her legs shook as he pulled her through the door of the room below his, barely holding her up. It looked extremely similar to his, confirming her theory that he had gotten it pre-furnished. Thankfully, it seemed that no one was home. They ran, the shouts from above shifting in tone as their confused attackers tried to sort out where they had gone.

  The front door opened without protest, and after a quick glance down the hall in both directions they continued. Down the hall, around another corner. Past a set of stairs. Past an elevator. Doorways flashed by, identical and almost hypnotizing. His warm body pressed tightly beside hers was all that kept her grounded and moving.

  They finally stopped at the end of the hall at another identical door. She glanced at him in confusion but his gaze was set forward and intense. He pulled away from her slightly, his arm slipping from around her waist. She shivered, feeling suddenly cold as he stepped away. She swallowed a noise of protest and wrapping her arms around herself.

  He didn't look back at her, but his hand reached out and grabbed hers.

  Calm seemed to bleed from his hand into her. She focused

  Her gaze forward, taking a deep breath. He squeezed her hand lightly.

  And then he kicked down the door. It splintered near the lock and she glanced at him in surprise. He continued to stare intently ahead, and there was no time for questions before he was pulling her into the room. She expected yells, screams and angry residents but all she got was an empty apartment, bare of even the personality-less furniture that had filled his.

  She couldn't help her body’s natural reaction as he pulled her towards the balcony again. She slowed, dragging behind him. Brown eyes met her own and his intense expression softened at something in hers.

  "It's okay. No falling this time." She followed him hesitantly and found, much to her relief that this balcony doubled as a fire escape. He wrenched open the balcony door and they stepped out into the shadows between the buildings. He knelt, still holding her hand and released the latch that held the ladder up. It slid surprisingly quietly, leading down to the next floor.

  When his hand left hers this time, it was like a physical pain. He slid down the first few steps before pausing and looking up at her.

  "I'll make sure you don't fall," he assured her. She

  Nodded, jerkily, before turning and making her way down the steps between his arms. He remained close behind her, stepping as she did. The next ladder went even quicker. Finally her feet touched down on solid ground and a sob surprised her as it burst from her throat. She forced back
the one that threatened to follow, glancing towards her guide for her next instructions.

  His expression faltered as he looked down at her, his determined frown shifting as odd emotions flashed through his eyes. A warm hand pressed gently against her cheek.

  "It's okay," he murmured. "I promise I'll keep you safe."

  She found her hand rising and pressing against his, nodding. The determination returned to his face. He pulled his palm away from her cheek, grabbing her hand again instead. They ran, this time along the cobblestones, deeper into the narrow alley and away from the main street. Her feet were soaked and cold, her white socks already covered in dirt and grime, but she stayed in step beside him without complaint. He tugged at her hand suddenly, slowing and ducking behind a large garbage collection bin.

  She followed and blinked. A motorcycle was tucked into the shadow the bin made; black, sleek and obviously powerful even to her uneducated eye. He grabbed the helmet from where it was hooked on the seat and handed it to her.

  "Put it on," he commanded, throwing a leg over the machine. It came to life with a muted rumble. She couldn't help but be grateful that it wasn't one of those ridiculously loud machines she saw so often on the highways at home. That would have alerted the entire neighborhood. She tugged the helmet on, clasping it under her chin.

  It was far too big and almost completely covered her eyes, but she slid into the seat behind him and instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist. He didn't bother with any more words, instead hitting the throttle and sending them hurtling out of the alley. They swung onto the street behind the building, bouncing on the uneven stone.

  A shot sounded, bouncing off the stone beside them. Glancing back she saw a pair of men identical to those in the room running after them. One held a walkie talkie, shouting into it. The motorcycle sped up and before she could see anything else they darted around a corner and once again the world became a blur.

  Chapter 4

  Amanda sat, curled into her car seat with her knees up near her chest. The landscape slid by like some kind of modern art but she let it, making no attempt to keep track of where they were. The heater was on full blast, and she had a half empty bottle of Gatorade clutched in one hand. She needed electrolytes, he had told her brusquely, the first time they had stopped. It helped with the shock.

  Apparently she was in shock.

  She hadn't argued, and blankly sipped from the bottle any time he demanded it. Other than that she had simply stared out of the window, listening to the hum of the highway under the jeep's wheels.

  The motorcycle had been left behind in Athens. It was now tucked into a car park a few miles from the apartment and traded for a green, dark windowed jeep. The man had lifted her into the passenger seat wordlessly before getting into the driver's side and driving them out of the city and into the hills of Greece.

  The Man. The still nameless man of mystery. She hadn't managed to gather up the courage or energy to ask yet.

  She still wasn't sure if he was savior or captor, friend or enemy, but he had kept his word and kept her safe. Or at the very least she didn't have any current bullet holes, so that was a plus. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. His hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel and he stared at the car in front of them wordlessly.

  She looked back out her window and bit her lip, fighting back a hysterical giggle.

  She had wanted adventure. She had wanted something new.

  Well, it served her right. What was that curse? 'May your life always be interesting.' Chinese? No...Irish? Well, it didn't matter. Her life was now far more interesting than she had ever dreamed it could be.

  She had grown up in Illinois, for goodness' sake! Small town, small minds, small life. She had graduated with the same eighty kids she had started kindergarten with, gotten a job at the local diner and gone to the movies on weekends. She had lived in a tiny apartment, eaten terrible Chinese food and gossiped with her friends about the same people and events that they had gossiped about every day since they were old enough to talk.

  And she'd hated it. It had been like living on a race track with a speed limit of six mile per hour. Driving in circles and never actually getting anywhere.

  Now she was sitting in a car with a gorgeous stranger whose apartment had been attacked by literal men-in-black. One who, for some reason, she found herself trusting implicitly. Her thoughts slowed as the car did and she glanced up at the handsome man in question. He had steered them onto an off ramp, following the flow of traffic.

  "Where-" she began hesitantly.

  "We're stopping for the night," he interrupted. "There is a hotel just up here."

  She nodded, falling back into the silence. The highway turned into tiny, rough streets but soon enough he was pulling into a tiny parking lot at a pretty white building. They parked near the entrance and he turned off the engine without even the comforting rumble for company.

  Chapter 5

  Finally he turned, the leather seat creaking loudly. He looked at her with dark, inscrutable eyes.

  "I know you have questions, and I'm sorry this happened, but I need to know that when we go in there you aren't going to cause a scene." She could only blink at him in her surprise. Cause a scene? Like...scream or faint? It hadn't even occurred to her. Her only thoughts right now were of a warm shower and a soft bed.

  "I won't," she replied quietly. He watched her steadily for another long moment before nodding.

  "Alright. We'll go in and get a room and you can rest." She nodded and he opened his door. She took a deep breath before moving to open her own but he was already there, reaching in to help her. His hand landed gently on her waist and she swallowed, for some reason fighting back tears again. He paused before sighing.

  "Really, I am sorry," he murmured, hands flexing unconsciously against her. "I'm doing my best to get you out of this."

  She nodded, but a rogue tear escaped and fell down her cheek, splashing as it landed on her jeans. Her eyes followed it as it landed before falling further and landing on her feet.

  "I don't have any shoes," she whispered. He glanced down in surprise.

  He swore. The sudden, drastic change in his mood surprised a giggle out of her, and she glanced up to find him smiling ruefully. The amusement faded as quickly as it had come. His brows furrowed as he stared at her for another long moment.

  "I should get the room myself. If you come in with me with no shoes, looking like you do, they'll have questions." She nodded, but he still hesitated. When she looked at him questioningly he swallowed, jaw flexing.

  "I need you to promise me you won't run." Surprise hit her for the second time in barely that many minutes. How had that not crossed her mind? It should have, but it hadn't. It must be the shock.

  "I won't," she replied, knowing it to be true. He had been right. She had questions. She couldn't just run off into the back woods of Greece and never know what she had somehow tumbled into. He still seemed reluctant to leave.

  A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

  "'You have to trust me'," she quoted at him, and found herself spellbound by the crooked smile that she got in response.

  "Okay," he agreed. "I'll be right back."

  The car was quiet, the sounds of the highway far enough away to be nothing but a vague hum. Amanda leaned back against her seat, her head falling back with a thump. The exhaustion she had been fighting since they had left Athens crashed over her, and she could feel tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as she yawned hugely.

  She rubbed at her eyes with the palm of her hand. Goosebumps prickled her arms as the cool air from the open door and she wrapped her arms around herself. She wished she had her sweater. Or her bag, or her toothbrush.

  Oh man, her toothbrush would be a godsend. Her mouth felt like a cat had shed their entire winter coat in it. And her hair was probably a mess. Her hand flinched up instinctively, patting it absently. A flash of brighter light brought her attention back to the main doors.
As they swung shut, the man strode out towards her, somehow still looking like a male model on a runway.

  It was entirely unfair. Without waiting for him to reach the car she hopped out onto the cement, wincing as once again her socks were soaked through instantly. She looked up at him as he reached her, feeling her cheeks begin to burn, feeling utterly insignificant. Dark eyes below ruffled hair, broad shoulders and a trim waist; his perfect jeans and dark t-shirt didn't give the sense that he had spent the day on the run from men with guns.

  She felt small, grimy and impossibly ordinary. Her hair was greasy, her clothes were covered with dirt and her socks were, frankly, disgusting. How could he look at her with anything but pity? Or worse, amusement?

  But when she met his gaze all she saw was concern.

  "Come on," he said, jerking his head. "There is a side door by the elevator. We'll get you in that way."

  She nodded, wordless in her humiliation, and followed him. Her socks squished as they stepped through the doorway and onto the carpet, and she winced. She refused to look back, certain that she was leaving a trail of disgusting footprints. The elevator was small, and creaked as it began to slowly rise.

  "What's your name?" she blurted out suddenly. He looked down at her, eyes wide and surprised. She looked away, twisting her hands together. "I mean, I can't just keep thinking of you as 'that guy who saved me that one time'. It's a little bulky."

  His chuckle surprised her and she glanced up at him. He was smiling, slightly, staring up at the ceiling.

  "William," he replied. "You can call me William."

  "William," she repeated, turning the name over in her mouth. It felt right. "Well, it's nice to meet you, William."

  His expression sobered, and he continued to gaze up at the ceiling.

  "We both know that isn't true," he replied. "But I suppose the social niceties must be observed."

  The door opened with a bing and as she followed him down the hall her mind continued to chew on what he had said. It shouldn't have been nice. It shouldn't be good that she met him, but it was. She was glad.