Game Day Box Set: A College Football Romance

by Lily Cahill

  “Are you sure?” he asks, smiling wide.

  “Absolutely. Have some fun. Let loose.”

  “Okay,” he says. “Can you just make sure I’m back in bed at a decent hour? Wake up call is at eight.”

  “You got it.”

  After that, West turns out to be the life of the party. It makes me happy to see him this way. He indulges so rarely; he deserves to do it right when he does.

  His teammates love it too. They ply him with drinks and it turns out that West is a very happy drunk. It’s adorable. At one point he even gets out on the dance floor and does a terrible job of breakdancing against Reggie. West might be the worst breakdancer I’ve ever seen. But everybody loves it, especially me.

  At ten to midnight, I tug him into a dark corner.

  “I want to kiss you into the New Year,” I say.

  He grins, his eyes dancing.

  “Come on.” I drag him out to a patio that overlooks the hotel pool from two stories up. I walk to the edge, marked by a short brick wall, and gaze at the dazzling blue water, then at the stars. Arizona seems to be made up of all sky. And tonight the sky is clear and wide and sparkling. When my gaze shifts back down, I see that West isn’t taking in the stars. He’s looking at me.

  “You look like a wedding dress,” he says, slurring a bit.

  “Oh, really?” I say.

  “I like it,” he says, grabbing me around the waist from behind and nuzzling into my neck. “Want you like that all the time.”

  “Dressing in formalwear every day?” I say, laughing at how adorable he is. “That’s a very bold fashion choice. I like it.”

  A breeze tickles the air, cool and sweet. With the sun gone, his warmth feels perfect at my back.

  “Wanna know what I thought? When you not drinking?” he asks, his words jumbled as he pulls me close.

  “I’m dying to know,” I say, egging him on.

  His hand slides down my stomach, resting just below my belly button. “Baby,” he says, kissing my neck. “I thought baby.”

  My heart stops for a second. He doesn’t sound scared or even relieved. He sounds … happy.

  A panic sets in. I pull away from him.

  A baby has never been part of the plan. In fact, it’s specifically forbidden from the plan. I got an IUD the minute I turned eighteen.

  If there’s even a small chance of me … of leaving a baby behind without a mom? Never.

  Never, never, never.

  Even if my doctor didn’t want me to get a hysterectomy on top of the double mastectomy. Even if I could adopt some day. I won’t force a child to go through a fraction of what I did.

  I snatch the bottle from his hand and he grins as I take a swig. “Well, I’m drinking now,” I say. The words come out flirty and cheerful, almost like a dare. He starts to laugh.

  “You’re wild, Lou,” he says. Then he shouts, “My WILD Lou!”

  I take another long swig and feel the warmth of it rush through my body. What we need is a distraction. A big distraction. From afar, I hear the ballroom start to count down to the new year.

  Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight.

  “I have an idea,” I say. “Want to do something crazy?”

  “Yes, please,” he says, smothering my mouth with his.

  “Not that,” I say. “Something even crazier. To start the year right.”

  His grin turns into a smirk.

  I climb onto the half-wall of brick surrounding the patio. “How about we go for a swim?” I ask, my dress billowing in the breeze.

  “Careful,” he says, his eyes looking suddenly fearful.

  Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.

  “It’s okay,” I say. Then I point down. “The pool. See? It’s just water. Come on.” I reach down and grab his hand. “We’ll do it together.”

  “Together?” he asks.

  “Together.”

  He scrambles onto the wall. For a moment, I worry as he wobbles his way to standing. But his control over his body is second nature and he manages it without a problem.

  Ten. Nine. Eight.

  “At midnight,” I say, reaching out to take his hand.

  He nods, and we join the far-off crowd, counting it down together. “Five. Four. Three. Two—”

  Horns. Cheering. Music.

  We jump.

  The wind hits my face and there’s a half second of weightless suspension before we crash into the water. The slap of it stings, but it’s a small price to pay for the rush of energy exploding in my veins. I open my eyes under water and see him looking at me from below, framed by my swirling skirts. He swims to me and we kiss until I can’t breathe anymore and I have to surface.

  West surfaces too, his eyes wide and bright. “Woo-hooooo!” he shouts into the night air, pumping his fist up.

  I join his feral cry, laughing as I yell.

  Then West looks at me, and his eyes darken and drop. I look down, only to see how transparent my dress has become. The white chiffon clings to my breasts, my pert nipples clearly visible. He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist. His mouth drops to my breast and he sucks me through the fabric of my bodice. A moan escapes my mouth, and it’s only then that I remember we’re out in public.

  “Not here,” I pant, holding his face in my hands. “Over there,” I say, pointing to where the grounds of the hotel turn into the darkened green of the golf course.

  Wordlessly, he carries me out of the pool and off the patio. We land on the green—soaked but not cold. We’ve built our own heat, and it only rises. We take our time delighting each other, ushering in the first hours of a brand-new year with pure pleasure.

  When we finish, I collapse into his sturdy chest and we lay there together, looking at the stars. My panic from earlier feels distant now. And I’m pretty sure I see one star shooting just for us.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  West

  THE LIGHT IS WAY TOO bright. Opening my eyes only makes the glare worse. It’s so intense, it almost feels like I’m directly under the sun. Then my eyes adjust and I realize I am.

  I’m outdoors. Laying on the grass under the wide branches of a tree. Lou is fast asleep beside me, naked, and using her dress as a blanket. The sight has me thinking about creative ways to wake her up.

  Then I remember. The team. The bus. What time is it?

  My watch says nine-seventeen and my heart stops.

  “Shit,” I say. “Shit, shit, shit.” Then I nudge her. “Lou, wake up.”

  She yawns and looks up at me with a groggy grin. “Morning, handsome,” she says.

  “Get up,” I say a little too harshly, standing to look for my shoes. Inexplicably, they’re hanging from a branch. I shove them on. “And get dressed.”

  “What’s the matter?” she asks, stretching into a yawn.

  “The team bus was scheduled to leave a half hour ago,” I say. “And the plane takes off in forty minutes.” She knows just as well as I do that missing that plane is a fireable offense. They may have let us party last night, but the road trip rules are very strict. Even if I somehow make it onto that plane, I’m still in deep shit. The rules call for a one-game suspension, and there’s only one game left this season. I’m going to miss the championship.

  “Shit,” she says, scrambling up and throwing on her dress and shoes.

  “I can’t believe you let me do this,” I say. “You said you were going to have my back.”

  “It was an accident,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough, Lou. I was counting on you.”

  “What do you want me to do? I can’t turn back time.”

  “I want you to be someone I can trust,” I say, heading toward the hotel. My gut is churning and the earth feels unsteady under my feet, but I don’t have time to worry about a hangover right now.

  “One fuckup doesn’t mean you can’t trust me,” she says, scrambling to keep up with me.

  “It only takes one fuckup to change everything,” I say. “I should know. I learne
d from the best. And I seem to be really fucking good at it.”

  “It’s one wild night, West. You’re not back to your old self.”

  “You’re right. I’m not. I’m worse. Because I actually have a real chance now, and I might have just thrown it away for one fucking night.”

  “Look. I’ll fix this,” she says. “I’ll call my dad and tell him it was all my fault, okay?”

  “No,” I say. I can’t even believe she would suggest it.

  “Maybe this could be a good thing, you know? He needs to find out sometime.”

  “Absolutely not, Lou.”

  She spots something near the edge of the pool and picks it up—her purse. “Oh, perfect,” she says, reaching inside. “This wouldn’t have even happened if we hadn’t been sneaking around last night,” she says. “I should have told him. I’m calling him right now.”

  I grab her wrist as she pulls out her phone. “Don’t you dare.”

  She stares at me, at the grip I have on her wrist. Then something dawns on her. “You don’t want him to know about us.”

  I let her wrist go.

  “Not right now I don’t.”

  “Why not? Tell me why.”

  “You don’t see how things really are, Lou. You’ve never been able to see it. I’m in huge trouble right now and telling your dad about us is only going to make it worse.”

  She looks up at me, eyes like daggers through a face crumpled with hurt. “You’re afraid of everything, aren’t you, West? Football. Me. My dad. What’s it going to take for you to grow a backbone?”

  So that’s what she really thinks of me. The deep-down truth. How long has she been holding that in, waiting for the right moment to tell me how weak she sees me?

  “I’m not having this conversation with you right now,” I say, fists curled, afraid of saying something I’ll regret. I walk toward the hotel door.

  “Do not walk away from me, West. I don’t deserve that.”

  I turn back to her. “I’m about to get suspended, Lou, after fighting like hell to redeem myself. And it’s because you broke your word. Doesn’t that matter to you at all?”

  She says nothing. Absolutely nothing. She just looks away and shakes her head as if she’s the one who has to calm down. As if she’s the one who has to tolerate my bad behavior right now.

  “You know what, Lou? Maybe your dad wasn’t looking out for you when he warned us not to date you. Maybe he was looking out for the team.”

  “That’s really low,” she says. Her voice strangled, like she’s holding back tears.

  I know I’ve hurt her, but she’s hurt me too. And I can’t take it back regardless. Maybe we’re just a bad influence on each other—all fire and no substance. Who knows what could happen if I slip up like this again.

  “Look, maybe we need to take a break for a while,” I say. The words come out before I really consider them, and I don’t know if it’s the right decision or not. But I do know something has to give here. Maybe I just want her to fight me, to fight back and tell me that’s not the solution. To say she didn’t mean it.

  But she doesn’t.

  “I agree,” she says, then she walks past me into the hotel.

  My hand itches to reach out and stop her, but I don’t.

  It’s better this way. For both of us.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lou

  HIS WORDS ECHO THROUGH MY head during the entire trip home. I’m flying separately from the team’s chartered plane and I have no idea if he made it on his flight or not. I want to say I don’t care, but I do. I never meant to put him at risk like that. And if he gets suspended, it doesn’t just hurt him. It hurts my dad and the rest of the team too.

  Maybe he was right all along. Maybe I was too much of a distraction. Maybe that’s all I could ever be to him. I am who I am, and he knew exactly who that was from day one. I’m not perfect. I will make mistakes. And if he needs me to change to be with him, then he’s right. We shouldn’t be together.

  By the time I get to the Kappa house, I know it’s the last place I want to be.

  “Pack up, Nara,” I say as I enter our room. “We’re taking a trip.”

  “We just got back,” she says, looking almost as exhausted as I feel. Her cheerleading schedule is just as harsh as the football team’s for away games, if not more. She’s in and out of town all year.

  “Rally, my friend. I need to get out of here.”

  “Does this have anything to do with West?” she asks. “He barely made it on the plane. And he seemed super upset. He wouldn’t talk to anyone.”

  My body relaxes a little, knowing he got on the flight. “What did my dad do?”

  “Coach bawled him out in front of everybody. I’ve never seen him so mad. They’re still deciding what West’s punishment will be. Everyone’s scared he’ll get suspended.”

  “That would suck,” I say, then start unpacking and repacking my carry on.

  “Did something happen with you two?” she asks.

  “It didn’t work out,” I say, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. I don’t want her making a big deal out of it.

  “Oh, no,” she says. “I’m so sorry. I really thought you guys were good for each other.”

  “We weren’t. What can you do?” I say, throwing fresh underwear into my bag.

  “Stop with the packing,” she says. “What you need is some chick flicks and girl time. I’ll call in the reserves.”

  This is one area where Nara and I are very, very different. Wallowing is the last thing I want to do right now.

  “Not happening,” I say. “I’m taking a road trip. Probably up to the mountains. You’re welcome to join?” I really, really want her to come. Being alone would be the worst right now.

  “Did I hear somebody say road trip?”

  I turn to see Brooke at the door, smiling.

  “That’s right,” I say. “We still have a week before classes start. No sense in wasting our time here, right?”

  “Love that idea,” Brooke says. “Can I join you two?”

  “I’m not going,” Nara says. “I need, like, three days of sleep. And I have too much to do around here before the start of the semester. You guys have fun, though.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  “If you want to go to the mountains,” Brooke says, as though Nara and I aren’t talking. “Then I have a great idea. Brett is up snowboarding at his dad’s condo in Vail with some of the other SigEp guys. He was just texting me that there are like, no hot girls up there. All the guys are bitching about it. I bet they’d love it if we crashed with them for a couple of days.”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  “Yay!” Brooke claps. “I’ll go pack!”

  Once she’s gone, Nara turns to me, “Are you sure that’s a good idea right now? Maybe you shouldn’t make any big decisions so soon after a breakup.”

  “I’m fine. Honestly. And a road trip does not qualify as a big decision.”

  “With those guys? Brooke only suggested it so she could show off her boyfriend. And ten bucks says that text really means they’ve been partying with strippers the whole time.”

  “So what if they are? I’m not dating any of them.”

  “Seriously, Lou? I think you might be legally insane if you want to hang out with them for more than a couple hours. You couldn’t pay me to sign up for that.”

  “They’re fun, Nara. I need fun.”

  “Okay,” she says skeptically. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise. Mom.”

  “Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Be safe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  West

  “WHAT THE HELL’S THE MATTER with you, son?” Coach yells. He’s leaning over his desk to shout closer to my face, both palms flat in front of him. His breath smells like coffee and cigars. “You’re supposed to be an example for this team, but you show up on my plane late and hungover? Wearing last night’s suit like some kind of p
layboy? What kind of behavior is that?”

  “It’s poor behavior, sir,” I say.

  “It’s disrespectful is what it is. To me and to the rest of the team. And the support staff too. We had people out searching for you, West. Calling you. Calling the police. You owe every single one of us an apology.”

  “I’m truly sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”

  “You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” he says, walking around his desk to tower over me. “You can’t be late when you’re not on the team.”

  An anvil drops in my gut.

  “Sir?”

  “That’s what the rules say I should do. They say I should suspend you for the next game.”

  I knew it. I knew this would happen. I knew I would find some way to screw it all up. I want to punch something, to roar.

  I try to focus on my surroundings so I don’t explode.

  “The rules say I should punish you, and every person who’s put in their time, money, energy, blood, sweat, and tears to make you part of a winning team. Do you think that’s fair?”

  “No, sir.”

  My eyes trace over the trophies on his shelf, a collection of knick-knacks, the pile of playbooks on his desk.

  “Do you think it’s fair for your teammates to go into the championship game without a quarterback who finally, finally got his act together and started scoring some goddamn touchdowns?”

  “No, sir.”

  I stare at the clock on the wall, the back of a picture frame, a half-eaten bag of chips.

  “Do you think it’s fair to the boosters? Who donate millions of dollars every year to make sure we’re a top tier program with all the best equipment?”

  “No, sir.”

  I count the crossed-off days on his calendar. The paperclips scattered on his desk. And then I notice something.

  “Do you think it’s fair to the assistant coaches, or the physical therapists, or the laundry staff who make sure your uniform is spic and span every morning after you’ve been rolling around in the mud all day like a goddamn animal? Just so they can say they’re a part of something special?”