The Wrong Game: A Sports Romance

by Kandi Steiner

  “Hey!” the voice said again, and this time I turned, finding a red-faced Bears fan glaring down at me from three rows up.

  I cocked a brow, and he pointed at Gemma with one stumpy finger.

  “You two enjoying the game?”

  Gemma turned then, confusion written on her face. Neither one of us knew how to answer. It was a simple enough question, but the way the man asked it, I felt like we were walking right into a trap.

  “I hope you are, because the rest of us can’t see it back here!” He pointed to our seats, sweat dripping from his curly black mop down to the bit of chest hair poking out of his Bears jersey. “Sit down, there’s nothing even going on.”

  The crowd around us was suddenly more interested in our transgression than on the play taking place on the other side of the field, and I clenched my jaw tight, adrenaline spiking in my veins. I’d had to jump into more than my fair share of fights at the bar, and I knew all the signs of a drunk, angry asshole.

  But before I could say a word, Gemma turned all the way around and hung both hands on her hips.

  “Excuse me?”

  Her little mouth gaped open, that plump, pink bottom lip almost pouty as she stared at the man and let her weight shift to one side.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” she said, incredulous. “We’re at a football game.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t have to stand up the whole fucking time.”

  Again, I opened my mouth, but Gemma held up a finger and pointed it directly at the red-faced man.

  “I’ll do whatever the hell I want. I’m a season pass holder, buddy, and if you wanna sit on your ass and watch the game, you should go to a bar or stay at home on your couch.”

  The crowd around us broke out in a mixture of laughs and ooooh’s.

  “You’re literally the only ones standing right now,” he pointed out.

  Gemma glanced around, seeing the truth in his statement, and though her cheeks flushed a bit, she stood even taller. Her chin held high, she crossed one arm over the other. “And you’re the only one complaining about it.”

  Our opponent puffed his chest, eyes landing hard on me next.

  “Control your woman, douche bag. Should have left her at home, anyway.”

  This time, I clenched my jaw so hard it ached.

  My hands were balling into fists of their own accord, muscles straining from the fight or flight kicking in. And with me? It was always fight.

  But I was at the game with Gemma, and the last thing I wanted was to get us kicked out. So, I steeled a breath, cracking my neck to alleviate some tension.

  “We’re just here to watch the game,” I told him, as calmly as I could with the anger roaring through me. “And we’re rooting for the same team. Let’s just take it down a notch.”

  “I can’t root for any team, balls for brains, because I can’t see.” He gestured his chubby little hand toward the field.

  “How is this tiny little thing blocking your view?” I asked, pointing at Gemma. “Girl is like a size two, if even, and at least two feet shorter than you. And you’re three rows up!”

  “Tell your bitch to sit down!” he ground out, a vein popping in his neck when that last word rolled off his tongue.

  Heads snapped in his direction at that, a few other guys calling out that his comment had gone too far while the women gasped in shock.

  Gemma’s fists balled together at her sides, and she launched forward, hands catching the back of her chair like she was ready to hike herself over it.

  I almost laughed — not because the fact that I was likely about to get my ass in a fight over this girl was funny, but because she was somehow even more adorable when she was pissed.

  Before she could plant one foot on her seat to climb over, I caught her by the waist, wrapping both arms around her flailing frame.

  “I’m only going to ask you this once,” I said through clenched teeth, still holding onto a panting Gemma as she glared at the man. “Apologize.”

  “Fuck you,” he spat.

  Tossing Gemma behind me, I climbed over my seat, side-stepping a family of Bills fans until I was in the guy’s face. He wound up, ready to hit me first, and I licked my lips with an evil smirk.

  Oh please, hit me, motherfucker.

  But before he could, security broke through the commotion, pressing one hand hard on my chest to push me back.

  “Alright, guys, that’s enough. Both of you calm down or I’ll throw you both out.”

  The security guard was smaller than both me and the asshole still glaring down at me, and for a second, I debated the risk versus the reward. The security guard likely wouldn’t be able to break us up very quickly — not without backup, anyway. And while getting kicked out of the game would suck, I’d have at least a few unblocked shots. And knocking a few of this man’s teeth loose… would that be worth it?

  Hmmm…

  “Zach,” Gemma said, tugging on my arm. Her emerald eyes blended with the green turf behind her, and just as I glanced at that field, our quarterback threw an incomplete pass.

  Shit.

  Gemma invited me to watch the game, not get her thrown out of it.

  I stepped back, hands in the air as the security guard cocked a brow at me before turning to the man above me.

  “What’s the problem here?”

  “These two burban moochers won’t sit down so we can see the game.”

  That earned a haughty laugh from one of the teenagers I had to sidestep when I climbed over my seat. He was wearing a Bills jersey, and I realized he was recording the whole thing on his phone.

  “What the fuck are you laughing at?” the man said to the kid.

  “I just find it hilarious that you’ve got your panties in a knot when I’m the one sitting right behind them, and I can see just fine.”

  The crowd laughed at that, and a few people called out smart remarks about how embarrassing it was for this guy to have a Bills fan put him in his place. Even the security guard had to fight a smile, but it turned to a grimace when he faced me again.

  “Unfortunately, the rule is that the majority wins. If most of the fans around you are sitting, you should sit, too.”

  “What?!” Gemma cried out, throwing her hand toward the guard. “We’re at a football game, for Christ’s sake!”

  Again, adorable.

  The guy who caused the drama gloated, crossing his thick arms over his chest with a satisfied smirk. I wanted to wipe it off with my fist, but suddenly, Janet and Roy stood up in a unified motion.

  Janet glared at the man, putting one arm around Gemma and holding her shoulders high. “It’s the fourth quarter and we need to rally and win this thing.” She looked at the crowd around us. “What do you say we cheer these boys to the finish?” And then, she glared pointedly at the man again. “On our feet.”

  The security guard’s eyebrows shot into his hairline at Janet’s spunk, and like a slow, misshapen wave, everyone in that angry, pudgy man’s row started to stand.

  And then the row with the Bills family.

  And then our row.

  Until the entire section that could overhear what was happening was on their feet.

  “Welp,” the Bills kid said, still holding up his phone to record. “Looks like majority rules.”

  Everyone clapped and cheered, and though I didn’t think it was possible, the man’s face reddened even more. He swiped his beer out of the holder and stormed past the security guard and up the stairs, dodging popcorn and napkins being tossed at him on his way up.

  The Bills kid high-fived me, tucking his phone away as I climbed back over my seat. A timeout was called on the field as Gemma looked up at me, her lips pulled to one side as her eyes sparkled under the stadium lights.

  “What?” I asked, reaching for my beer.

  “You were going to fight that guy for me.”

  “You think so, huh?” I took a drink. “Maybe I was just going to sit back and watch you fight your own battle.”

 
She shook her head, little nose scrunching up again. “You were going to lay him out and get thrown out of the home opener game just to defend my honor.”

  “You upset about it?”

  Gemma paused, eyes bouncing between mine like she was trying to find answers to some question she hadn’t even asked yet. “No,” she finally said. “I’m a little surprised by it, though.”

  “What, I don’t look like the type who will stick up for his girl?”

  She bit her lip, teeth rolling over the pink-stained skin as she fought a grin. “I guess chivalry isn’t completely dead.”

  “Not tonight, it isn’t, princess.”

  The way she was looking at me, I wanted her to watch me all night long. I wanted those eyes on me when the final whistle blew, when the door to her house closed behind us, when that tight, burnt-orange tank top was on her floor and those long, tan legs were hooked over my shoulders.

  But those emerald pools ripped away at the sound of the ball being snapped, and as if nothing had even happened, all eyes were back on the field.

  The game ended less than twenty minutes later to the tune of the Bears pulling a touchdown out of their ass and sealing their first regular season victory with a two-point conversion.

  Gemma jumped into my arms as the entire stadium went nuts, and a roar far too deep and, if I was being honest, a tad bit terrifying, ripped from that little lady’s throat like she was a linebacker on the team and not a five-foot-two fan in section 124. But I couldn’t find it in me to do anything other than laugh.

  At least, until we both realized she was in my arms.

  One of her hands hooked around my neck while the other fist pumped into the air and high-fived every fan around her she could reach. Her legs were wrapped around me from where she’d jumped on me like a banshee, and when she finally turned to face me, chest heaving and smile splitting her face, we both stopped.

  Time morphed, the roaring crowd around us dulled to something more of a distant whisper. The announcer went on, the celebration continued, but in that moment, all we could do was stand still.

  And I felt it again.

  I didn’t know what it was, what to call it, how to name it and classify it and file it away.

  I only knew it was something. Something different. Something more.

  Gemma ran that free hand back through her hair, smile falling as her eyes landed on my lips, both of us breathing.

  Both of us staring.

  Her hand pressed into my chest, and she unhooked her ankles from where they were clasped behind my back, sliding down the front of me until her toes hit the ground again.

  “Sorry,” she murmured, pulling her hair over one shoulder as she peered up at me with pink cheeks. “I just… I was so excited when we won.”

  “Hey, it’s all good,” I said, tapping her nose. “Practice round, remember?”

  She laughed nervously at that, eyes skirting down to her Keds before they climbed back up slowly to meet mine. And when they did, all that sass, that confidence, that fun? It was all gone.

  Her eyes were wide, scared, fingers twirling in her hair as she chewed her bottom lip. I watched her swallow, the motion straining her delicate neck, and then she said something.

  “What?” I asked, leaning down. The crowd was still loud and boisterous, an off-key chorus of the “Bear Down” fight song ringing out.

  Gemma spoke again, but I still couldn’t hear her.

  “What was that?” I asked again, putting my ear right by her lips.

  And of course, as soon as there was a lull in the noise, she screamed what she’d been saying all along.

  “You wanna come back to my place?!”

  A few people snapped their heads in our direction, smirks and laughs greeting us from all sides as Gemma flushed a deep red and folded in on herself. I chuckled, shaking my head as I watched her retreat.

  “It really should be illegal for one woman to be this cute.”

  Her shoulders drooped, a smile breaking through as she shook her head, embarrassed.

  “I agree,” Janet said from behind her, squeezing Gemma’s shoulder. “Alright, you two. Have fun tonight. The old folks are going to fight through this crowd and head home.”

  “It was so nice meeting you,” Gemma said, wrapping Janet in a hug. “I can’t wait to cheer on our boys all season with you.”

  “Just don’t start showing up in body paint,” Roy grumbled.

  We all laughed at that.

  Zach

  My mind was reeling as we pushed through the crowd back out into the night, Gemma’s hands tucked into the back pockets of her shorts. I could still feel the adrenaline of the game rushing through me, and now, that blood was pumping straight to another region in anticipation of what was about to happen next.

  It’d been a while since I’d taken a girl home, or gone back to her place. Somewhere around twenty-eight, I got tired of the one-night stands. It wasn’t that I hadn’t had any since then, just that they were fewer and more far between.

  And the thought of breaking that dry spell with Gemma was more than enough to get me hard before we’d even left the field.

  I adjusted myself in my shorts, walking behind Gemma to the cab line, but when we climbed inside the cab to head back to her place, Gemma fell completely silent, her wide eyes watching the cars pass out her window.

  I watched her twist her hands together in her lap, ignoring every text that lit up her phone. I couldn’t help but notice most of them were from Belle.

  And I also couldn’t help but notice that Gemma was nervous.

  She was can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t look at me nervous.

  We pulled up to one of the sky-rise condominium buildings downtown less than half an hour after leaving our seats, even with the traffic, and Gemma hadn’t spoken a single word to me in that time. Silence enveloped us still us we rode in the elevator up to the twenty-second floor.

  With my upbringing, all I wanted to do was get inside that head of hers. I wanted to ask her what she was thinking, what she was feeling, what was making her palms sweat right now. She mentioned it’d been a while for her, too, since she’d been with someone — but I didn’t know why.

  Still, I didn’t press her. From what she’d told me earlier in the night, she was a woman of control. So, I let her think, let her make her lists and her plans.

  She didn’t have to know that all that would go out the window the second I had her naked.

  “This is me,” she said finally, her voice a little raspy as she unlocked door 2206. She stepped inside, holding the door open for me, and once I stepped in after her, I let out a long whistle.

  “Wow,” I said, surveying the space. Chicago’s downtown lights filled the condominium, even as Gemma walked around turning on lamp after lamp. That soft glow only seemed to highlight the space’s modern appeal more.

  I crossed the hardwood floor, passing her living area until I was standing at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the skyline. The river was also within view, the water reflecting the city lights, small boats still cruising under the bridges.

  “Damn, girl,” I said, scanning the view. “This is some pad.”

  She shrugged, still standing by the last lamp she’d turned on next to her couch. Her keys were clutched in one hand, the other rubbing the back of her neck. “Thanks. It’s, uh…” She rolled her lips together. “I’m still getting used to it.”

  “Haven’t lived here long?”

  She shook her head, eyes falling to the floor. “I used to live in the suburbs… so it’s a bit of a change.”

  “The ‘burbs, huh? Guess that guy wasn’t completely off with his name-calling earlier, then.”

  “Ugh, that guy sucked.”

  “He did,” I agreed with a chuckle, tucking my hands in my pockets. I leaned against the window, and suddenly, a heated wave of energy fell over us like a blanket.

  I let my eyes crawl up Gemma’s legs, roaming over the tight fabric of her tank top bef
ore meeting her gaze. And as soon as my eyes locked on hers, she dropped her keys.

  “Shit,” she whisper-yelled, bending over to retrieve them quickly. She dropped them on the table, purposefully this time, running her hands back through her hair with an embarrassed smile before tucking her hands in her back pockets. “Uh, do you want something to drink?”

  I didn’t answer, but she crossed to the kitchen, anyway.

  “I have… well,” she said, propping her weight on one hip as she surveyed the contents of her fridge. “I don’t have a whole lot, honestly.”

  The way her apartment was set up, the kitchen and living room were open and connected, making it easy for me to smile and watch her from across the room. I could see the panic settling in on her face as she scanned her fridge.

  “I, uh, I have protein shakes, and water, and orange juice. I have some wine, I think,” she said, letting the fridge close as she quickly pulled open a cabinet. There was one bottle of red wine inside, and she let out a relieved sigh. “Yes! I have wine.”

  She pulled the bottle down, holding it toward me.

  “See? It’s not beer, but hey, it’s Italian.” She laughed. It was a nervous, flittering sort of laugh.

  I just smiled wider.

  She swallowed hard, her eyes flicking from mine down to the hem of my jeans before she whipped around, reaching for her wine bottle opener.

  “Thanks for coming over,” she said, lining up the screw with the cork. Then, she cringed, turning to me. “Was that weird? Should I not do that?”

  “Did it feel weird?”

  “Kind of.”

  I raised both eyebrows in answer. “Well, what did I say earlier?”

  “Don’t do it if it feels weird.” She sighed, leaning against the cabinet. “What if everything feels weird?”

  “It won’t,” I assured her, pushing off the window. The poor girl was going to have a panic attack if I didn’t help steer the energy here. “This place really is impressive, Gemma. What made you move here?”

  Her eyes softened at that, which was strange, because it was almost as if she slipped on a mask in that moment. She turned to the bottle again, working the screw into the cork. “Belle lives a few floors up. I figured it’d be nice to know someone in a new place. Plus, she’s my boss, and we work just around the corner. It’s convenient.”