“Flag on the play.” She grinned. “Holding. Automatic first down.”
I chuckled. “I’ll take that penalty. It’s worth it.”
She tasted sweet when I kissed her. I sucked the tip of her tongue, earning a tiny moan from her. Her fingernails dug into my skin, stinging with pleasured pain.
I pulled away. “Roughing the passer,” I muttered before going in for more.
She loosened her grasp. “I’m sorry. I thought you liked it rough.”
“Oh, I do. Rough the passer. Please.”
She giggled as she pulled away and went back to the bench. I followed. Taking her bag and my duffle, I held her hand as we walked to the parking lot together.
An hour later, I was showered and lying in bed with Gretchen watching Netflix. Leaning against my headboard, I ran my fingers through her hair while she practically purred against my chest. Her tiny fingers followed the lines of my abs, making my muscles twitch occasionally.
Things felt so domesticated, so normal, and while that usually would have bored the hell out of me, I laid there enjoying how close she was to me and how perfect the moment was.
Her stomach grumbled, making me chuckle, and she looked up at me curiously.
“Hungry?”
She shrugged before laying her head back against my chest. “A little. You?”
“Starving. Feel like some wings at Jim’s?”
She turned her face into my stomach and moaned. “I do, but I don’t want to move. Too bad Jim’s doesn’t deliver. I’m so tired.”
Leaning up, I placed a kiss on her forehead and rolled her off me.
“Hey!” she called out.
“I’ll be back.” I stood from the bed and pulled a T-shirt over my head before grabbing my hoodie from the dresser.
“Where are you going?”
I looked over with a grin as I slid my feet into my sneakers. “Jim’s. My girl wants wings. My girl gets wings.”
“I love it how you say that.”
“How I say what?”
“I love it when you call me your girl.”
Snatching my keys from my dresser, I grinned over at her. “Well, it’s the truth.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
She was so fucking adorable. I’d never get enough of her.
Going back to bed, I leaned over and kissed her softly. “I’ll be back. Don’t move a muscle.”
“Yes, sir.” She playfully saluted me before falling back against my pillows.
The cold air rushed over me when I stepped out the door, making me burrow into my hoodie. The drive to Jim’s took minutes since the roads were empty. My truck smelled like barbecue on the way back to my place, making my stomach grumble with hunger.
By the time I got back, a chilly rain had begun to fall. Once I was inside, I took the stairs two at a time and burst into my room expecting Gretchen to be lying in bed waiting. Instead, I found an empty room. I panicked, thinking maybe I’d pushed her away.
And then I heard her.
Her voice echoed from the bathroom as she sang sweetly in the shower. I’d never heard anything so beautiful.
Setting the Styrofoam to-go box full of wings on the dresser, I crept into the bathroom, careful not to disturb her. Standing in the doorway, I listened as her voice moved through the bathroom like the steam of her hot shower—waves of beautiful noise perfectly pitched and completely in tune.
I had no idea she could sing so well. I knew she loved it, but I didn’t know she was any good. She’d never told me.
The water turned off and the shower curtain pulled back revealing her naked body. Her fading tan lines glowed in the dim bathroom lighting as my eyes moved over her balmy flesh sending a wave of hot blood straight to my cock.
Looking up, she gasped when she saw me standing there and instantly stopped singing.
“Keep going. You sound amazing, babe.”
She stood there shocked, her wide eyes moving over me in confusion. And then the strangest thing happened. Her face reddened, her eyes lowered, and she burst into tears.
I moved across the room, collecting her wet body in my arms as I moved us from the bathroom and into my bedroom. She cried on my shoulder, her body trembling with her sobs.
“What is it? Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”
I’d changed so much since Gretchen. There I was, holding a wet, naked woman in my arms, and all I could think about was killing whoever or whatever had made her cry.
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it,” she stuttered into my chest, her hot tears wetting my shirt.
“Doing what?”
She looked up at me, her eyes rimmed in red. “Singing. I didn’t even realize I was singing.”
“What’s so bad about that? People sing in the shower all the time. Most people don’t sound as great as you, but that makes it even better.” I reached up and tucked a strand of sopping wet hair away from her face.
“No, you don’t understand. I used to sing to my mom when she was sick. She loved it when I sang to her, but then she died and I couldn’t do it anymore. I haven’t sung a note since the day she died … until now.”
“That’s okay, babe. You’re moving on. She’d want you to do that. If singing makes you happy, then you should do it.”
Her green orbs moved over my face before she looked me in the eye. “Oh my God, it’s you.”
Rubbing her arms to warm her, I was confused by her words. “What’s me?”
“You’re the reason I was singing.” Her tiny hands captured my cheeks, the warmth of her palms tingling against my chilled skin. “You’re making me happy, Sawyer. I never thought I’d feel so alive again.”
Her words shocked me, and for a few seconds, I felt the panic rise in my throat, threatening to choke me. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t relationship material. I was going to hurt her. I was going to break her heart. It was the last thing I wanted to do, but I was a fuck-up when it came to women. I didn’t have control over that.
I needed to stop this. I needed to get away.
But then I looked at her. Her pouty lips pulled into a sad frown and her tear-streaked cheeks, puffy with emotion, and I knew. I just knew. I was panicking because I was seriously falling for Gretchen.
It was a heavy feeling in my stomach—like I was on a rollercoaster and I was seconds away from the big drop. It was thrilling and scary, but so fucking exciting; I wanted to hold my arms in the air and scream with joy.
I didn’t do that.
Instead, I pulled her face to mine and kissed her so hard I was afraid I’d hurt her. I tasted her, her soft lips moving against mine until I was so lost in her I didn’t know where I ended and where she began.
Life was good.
No.
Life was great.
I had everything I wanted and more. I didn’t want to be hasty, but I couldn’t see how my life could be any better. I was riding the wave to greatness in my football career; and I planned to keep my girl close to my side through it all.
Gretchen and I hadn’t made things official. I really had no fucking clue how to go about doing that, but as far as I was concerned, I’d kill any motherfucker who even thought about touching her.
She was mine.
She’d given herself to me, and in a way, I’d given myself to her. Feelings I never thought I’d experience moved through me every time she smiled at me, and every night if we weren’t together, I’d fall asleep with my cell attached to my ear and her sexy, Southern twang on my brain.
My game was back to normal, and we ripped Florida State in half, the scoreboard so one-sided I was afraid it would fall over. My team and coaches were ecstatic about the sudden revert to greatness. My numbers were rising while Jacob’s were just barely hanging on. My grades were good, and if things continued the way they were, it looked as though we were going to end the season undefeated.
It didn’t get much better than that.
I worked like a dog in the gym and spent all my spare time studying and being co
mpletely wrapped up in Gretchen. If I didn’t have practice, and we weren’t in class, we were together. Whether we were watching movies, going to dinner, hanging out with the guys, or making each other crazy in bed, we were together.
The guys thought it was hilarious that I’d finally been caught by a chick, but I didn’t give two shits what they had to say about the subject. The chick who caught me was amazing and I’d run into her trap any day any time. Still, as much as they teased, the team was relieved that I’d gotten my game back. I definitely needed to stay on top of my game if we were going to stay in the top five in the polls. There was no doubt in my mind that we’d end up in a bowl game with a championship under our belts.
The following week, we flew to New York for our away game against Syracuse. We played hard, the cold weather hard on our Southern bodies, and pulled a win out of our asses. Afterward, when a reporter from ESPN interviewed me, I smiled at the camera knowing that Gretchen was watching. Before we wrapped up the interview and I made my way into the locker room, I blew a kiss into the camera and winked. She’d know it was for her.
I used the plane ride to think about the way things were turning out. The season was moving along on a good note, and I was only a few games away from playing in the biggest rival game in the South. I could hardly wait to beat Jacob’s ass one more time.
I’d watched all his games at Jim’s, catching all his flaws. When he screwed up a play, I’d laugh. Gretchen usually sat quietly while watching the games, but sometimes, she’d just get as rowdy as the rest of us.
Stuffing ourselves with wings the following Thursday, we sat and watched Newdale play Notre Dame. Gretchen was quieter than usual, and she seemed tired. Dark smudges circled her eyes and she looked pale.
“You okay, baby?” I asked, sliding closer to her and wrapping my arm around her waist.
She nodded as she nibbled on her food. “Just tired. Finals and stuff.”
I didn’t push. I’d figured it was something like that. Hell, I’d even had a few nights like that myself. Playing ball and keeping up my grades took serious work. It was especially hard since all I ever seemed to want to do was hang out with Gretchen.
I held her close during halftime, whispering things in her ear that made her blush sweetly, and when the teams got back on the field, I couldn’t help but notice how badly Jacob was dragging.
Derrick, across the table, noticed it, too.
“Damn, dude looks run-down for real. I guess getting sacked on every play will do that to you.”
I laughed. “What’s wrong, Jacob?” I said to the TV. “College football wearing you down?”
Again, the guys at the table laughed, but Gretchen didn’t.
Jacob played hard, but it still didn’t seem to be enough. Notre Dame was shutting him down every chance they got. He was off his game. I enjoyed the look on his face every time the cameras went in for a close-up. He was pissed, and honestly, he looked like shit.
Finally, the coach benched him for few plays, giving him a chance to rest up, but after a quick turnover, they put him back in. He continued to disgrace himself. I’d never seen him play so badly.
“He can’t even make a play. Put a fork in him, he’s done.”
Glancing over at Gretchen, I grinned at her, but her face remained blank as she watched the TV intently.
Then it happened.
The fourth quarter, Jacob was sitting on the twenty-three-yard line. The ball was snapped, and somehow, one of their defensive players ran right through their O line. The massive defensive player ran right at Jacob with all his might, sacking him hard and taking him down on the green.
His head popped up once before he fell back, lying on the ground completely still. I’d been hit a few times in my life but never that hard. I felt kind of bad for the dude since he’d obviously been knocked out cold.
Minutes went by and my blood went icy. He really wasn’t moving. The commentators on the TV began talking about how hard he’d been hit and showed replays in the corner of the TV screen. Medics rushed on the field, blocking the view of his motionless body from the rest of the world. I held my breath as I waited and secretly hoped that he’d get up.
It didn’t make any sense to me.
I hated Jacob.
Why did I feel like I couldn’t breathe seeing him lying there out cold?
“Get your whiney ass up, Jacob!” I yelled at the TV, throwing my hand in the air in exasperation.
Still, he didn’t move.
“He’s a fucking joke,” I muttered.
I wasn’t sure why, but I was angry that he wasn’t getting up. Angry and even though I’d never admit it to anyone else, I was worried. Jacob and I still had bad blood. He didn’t get to get hurt. We still had to take it all out on each on the field. It was what we did.
“He’d better get his ass up,” I said, anger rushing through me. “We still have a game to play, motherfucker.”
It was then that Gretchen stood and slid from the booth. Motioning for the waitress, she paid her bill before I had a chance to stop her and stuffed her debit card back into her purse. Her face was etched in anger, her lips drawn tight across her thinned lips.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I asked.
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she put her phone in her purse, pulled a few ones out, and tossed them on the table as a tip. She wouldn’t even look at me, even though I knew she’d obviously heard me ask her a question.
I stood from the booth, waiting for her to respond.
“What's wrong with you?” I asked again, this time getting in her face and grabbing her arm, concerned.
Before I could react, she slapped me across my face, her tiny palm stinging my cheek. I sat back down, completely shocked.
“What the fuck, Gretchen?” Rage moved through me and I quickly pressed it back down. “What was that for?” I demanded.
Irritation struck me deeply. I felt is rise into my chest, threatening to explode.
“You're an asshole!” she yelled.
The guys sat and stared quietly, obviously shocked that this tiny girl had the balls to slap me. It was one of the things I loved about her. She was fearless.
She turned to leave, but again, I reached out and grabbed her arm. She reared back to hit me again, but this time I was ready, and I grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her.
“Is this because I was teasing Jacob?”
She looked away, her eyes red with anger. “Yes. You always trash talk him, and I’m sick of it. He could be seriously hurt, and you couldn’t care less.”
She didn’t need to know I was worried and being angry was my way of covering up that worry.
“You're right,” I lied. “I don’t care. Why should I? Better yet, why do you? You don’t even know the guy.”
If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man. She practically hissed at me as she snatched her arm away.
“You’re a fucking asshole.”
The thought of her walking away from me—leaving me—made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. It made me feel weak. I hated feeling weak. There was no way I could allow this to happen to myself. I wasn’t that kind of dude.
So I rebelled against those feelings and dug deep for my true asshole. It was a defense mechanism. Lash out at the pain. Lash out at the girl. I knew it was wrong, but she had me so pissed off and crazy that I couldn’t think straight.
Tugging her close to me, I pressed my mouth to her ear and whispered, “Yeah, but you knew that before you let me fuck your virgin pussy, didn’t you?”
She backed away from me, shaking her head with wide, hurt-filled eyes as if she couldn’t believe the words that had come out of my mouth. Hell, I couldn’t believe I’d said it either. I wanted to reach out and pluck them out of the air around us, but it was too late.
I’d said it.
What was done was done.
She shook my hand from her arm, hurt swimming in her eyes, and I let her go. Without even a second look, she walked away from me
and left, the door to Jim’s almost swinging from its hinges.
I wasn’t sure what happened, but I knew I hated arguing with Gretchen. It left me feeling strange—weak in a way I’d never experienced before. She brought me to my knees every time, and even though I didn’t do anything wrong, I felt the need to chase after her and apologize right away.
I didn’t, of course.
My man card couldn’t take that kind of abuse.
The guys were watching my every move, clearing their throats and pretending they hadn’t heard every word, and something told me if I ran after her like the little bitch I’d became, I’d never hear the end of it. I couldn’t let my boys see me like that. I was the leader of their team. They needed to know I was strong—even if I didn’t feel very strong at that moment.
Instead of going after her, I sat in my seat, took a swig from my beer, and finished watching the game as if nothing had happened. I ignored the feeling of total dread that was sinking in my stomach and tried not to think about the fucked-up things I’d said to her.
I didn’t call or text, even though I wanted to. My phone was burning a hole in my palm as I held it and debated what my next move should be. I’d never been in this kind of predicament before—never having been in an actual relationship—and I was fucking clueless as to what to do.
In the end, I decided not to bother her.
I figured a night away to blow off some steam was exactly what she needed. When I was pissed at someone, I always took a night away from them to blow off some steam. Then again, she really didn’t have a reason to be pissed at me. The more I thought about the way she’d treated me in front of my boys, the more pissed off I became.
What was the big fucking deal?
I was a football player.
Football players talked shit about other players.
She was blowing things way out of proportion. It was one of the main reasons I stayed away from relationships. Girls were drama, and I was starting to think I didn’t have time for that kind of bullshit in my life. Even if she was the best sex I’d ever had. Even if I thought I was developing intense feelings for her. Even if I felt like I couldn’t fucking breathe thinking she might never talk to me again.
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