Me: I told you. As soon as I make a team
Devil: Need some collateral. I’ll be in touch
Collateral? You got to be fucking kidding me. I don’t own a pot to piss in and never will, unless I make the drafts. The text reminds me I need to get more sleep and focus on the game. Already two AM, I’m only going to get four hours of shuteye. I’ve done it before, with old coach Bradley, but I got a feeling the new one is going to kick my ass.
Chapter 4
Star
It’s hotter than hell as the sun beats down on the field. Light-skinned, I lathered sunscreen over every inch of my exposed flesh. The zinc turns me ghostly white under my wide-brimmed straw hat. Because the percussionists can’t get their shit together, I’m stuck teaching a few of the underclassman the most basic of our cadences.
Bored out of my skull, I keep watching the other side of the field, where the new coach has ridden Jackson’s ass all morning.
“Another lap, Farnsworth and if you can’t do better, you’ll be there all morning.” CJ Quinn’s voice pierces through the pause in our practice.
Kira, on the glockenspiel, turns, and purses her lips in a frowny face. She knows I got it bad for the wide receiver but has no clue we had sex. By the time I climbed into bed, she was sound asleep and with both of us dragging this morning, we barely got dressed in time for roll call. The way she keeps staring across the field, I’m pretty sure she made up with the Pitbull’s star quarterback, Ryan Finnegan.
As my wide receiver rounds the outside of the field nearest me, he races to my side and jogs in place. “Meet me later in the Student Union?”
“Yes. Go.” I glance over at the coach and the assistant coach, both with their hands on their hips.
A screeching whistle fills the air and I cringe as Mr. Miller shouts, “Is there a problem, Ms. Johnson?”
“No, sir, he was just leaving.” My face heats as everyone, from the woodwinds to the horns, turns and eyes us.
“See you later.” Jackson kisses me on the mouth then runs back to where both coaches start giving him an earful.
Annoyed, my conductor marches us to face the opposite goalpost. All afternoon we work out the steps to create a giant Pitbull on the field. Others march while I keep a cadence going. By late afternoon, I can barely lift my arms.
For sure, the band leader is punishing me for breaking the most cardinal rule on the field. No fraternizing during practice.
Hours later, Kira joins me after she stores her instrument in her locker.
I ask, “Come with? I’m meeting Jacks in the Student Union.”
Her brows raise and she grins. “Threes a crowd. See you later.”
Drat. I was kind of hoping she’d be my buffer. I have no idea how I feel about my player and our incredible fuck fest last night. Summer camp is known for flings that burn hot and die out as soon as school begins. I was fine with it before last night, but now, it’s hard to imagine letting him go. However, come spring, my heart will shatter. He’s sure to become an NFL star and I’m bound for New England to get my doctorate.
A more unlikely couple does not exist on planet earth.
These are my thoughts as I store my marching drum and drag my tired legs toward the showers. A couple of cheerleaders see me there and give me ‘the look.’
Basically, it says, get lost you ugly bitch, nobody likes you.
If I wasn’t so damn hot and sweaty, I’d give them the finger, turn, and go. Last year, that’s exactly what I would’ve done.
This year, fuck them. Clutching my towel, my soap, and my shampoo, I strut to a shower stall where Cindy, the snarkiest of the team sidles up to me.
“What did Jackson want?”
It’s none of her business and I almost say so, but remember the southern charm that Kira’s been trying to teach me. “Aren’t you just the sweetest, to be all concerned?”
Her cheeks flush and eyes flash. “You keep your hands off him, y’hear?”
“Why, whatever are y’all talking about?” I swivel the shower head, turn on the water, and duck.
Cold water hits her in the face, mussing up her newly-applied makeup. “Argh! You bitch!”
“Oh my gawd. I am so, so, sorry.” I turn off the faucet, feigning to be horrified, and shoot her two pals standing close by my look of triumph.
The three storm out of the shower area, leaving it empty except for me. Snickering, I pull the plastic across the opening and luxuriate under the now warm spray. As I soap my sore breasts, I recall Jackson’s hands on me, how sweetly he made love.
I’ve never felt so adored.
It all started during the movie, him teasing me, throwing popcorn down my shirt… I guess I shouldn’t've hopped in the car with Quest but I didn’t want him to think I was easy.
Giggling, I remember his jealous face while I danced with his teammate.
The cover band was nice to let me play and it was fun until I glanced at Jackson. Mouth open, eyes wide, his hungry gaze heated my panties, every time I glanced his way.
Sure, I wanted some of what he was offering.
I lather, slide my index finger between my legs, and press. The way he tugged me into his hard want on the dance floor was pure heaven. His kisses turned my heart to mush and my knees to putty. Making love with him? Pure heaven.
My clit blossoms and I rub harder, imagining him and me, alone in the shower. With my eyes closed, I’m back in his bed, his warm breath in my ear, his heart hammering next to mine. Faster, I pant, grow tight, and cum.
When done showering, I wrap myself in a towel and walk to my locker where my phone pings.
Jacks: Union in 5?
I don’t want him to think I’m waiting by the phone so I blow my hair dry and apply makeup before responding.
Me: Almost ready. On my way.
In flat sandals and a short, one-piece romper, I stroll past the cafeteria, a couple dorms, and around the sidewalk. From there, I open the double glass doors of the Student Union.
Busy during the school year, it’s ghostly quiet. It must be pizza night at the dining hall. I walk up and down the empty booths until I spy him in a corner, eyes closed, snoring lightly. I grimace as guilt hits me in the gut. It’s because of me he’s so tired.
His phone buzzes on the table and I glance down at the message.
Devil: Call me back now or I will fuck U up.
Yikes. I tap him on the shoulder but he doesn’t budge so I shake his shoulder.
Dark lashes lift, he takes in his surroundings, and his gaze finally settles on me.
“Hey.” His warm smile disappears when I point to his phone.
“Shit.” He swipes, punches a number, and puts it to his ear.
“Can you give me a second?” Dark brows raise at me.
“Sure. Everything okay?” Nodding, I back away.
He laughs but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “This? It’s nothing. It’s just Ryan messing with me.”
I’m not buying it but it’s none of my business so I ignore the huge red flag flashing in my mind’s eye. At the counter, I order two cokes and three burgers with fries. By the time I get back, he’s off the phone.
“Help yourself.” I place the tray down on the booth’s table and slide in.
His brows crease. “You didn’t have to do that.”
I shrug. “I know.”
His hand rasps over his beard, he grabs some food, and chews while he stares. Ah, this must be the awkward silence my girlfriends have dubbed ‘the-talk’. It’s what happens after you have sex with a guy you barely know.
I dip a fry into a tiny paper ketchup bucket and play with it for a while, not wanting to glance into his penetrating brown eyes. I had a speech all memorized and like last night, brain cells refuse to fire, at least the ones I need.
When I get brave and lift my lashes, his stare penetrates and my clit stirs.
Oh, for the love of God, stand down girl.
I, being the psychology major, should begin this conversation and get it o
ver with.
“Listen, about last night…” Great, now I sound like every chick flick ever written…
The first smile of the day cracks on his sexy lips. “Yeah?”
He isn’t going to make this easy, is he? “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
He grins wider. “No?”
Crap, two can play at this. “No.” My brows raise and I tip my head, waiting for him to respond.
Dark chocolate eyes with wide black circles capture my gaze as he swallows, then sips on his straw, not blinking. He wipes his mouth on a napkin, thinking, I guess. Who knows? Time ticks by and I wonder if he’s going to speak.
Finally, he clears his throat. “You done?”
“Done?”
“Yeah, done.” His smile disappears and a thunderstorm crosses over his face.
“Ummm, not if you don’t want to be.” Damn, why does this have to be so difficult?
The dark clouds fade as the muscles of his face relax.
“Good. Thanks for the food.” He stands as if to go but I’m not letting him off the hook so easily.
I got this far and I fear, if we leave it here, he may never text me again, let alone kiss me.
“Take a walk?” It’s a lot to ask of the poor exhausted guy but I’ll make it quick.
His grin comes back. “I’d like that.”
A southern gent, he holds open the door for me and I can’t help but return his wide smile. With his hand at my lower back, the lips between my legs, cheer.
Not happening, girls, not tonight. You already got me in a heap of trouble.
As we amble along the sidewalk toward the amphitheater, I try to restart the uncomfortable conversation. “Last night was, ah, really nice.”
“Just nice? I’m hurt.” His brows raise.
“Nicer than nice, okay?” I’m dying to ask if he felt the mind-numbing connection, too, but when I play it out in my head, I sound desperate and clingy.
The new Star is anything but that.
He stops, turns, and pulls me into his chest. Then, his lips are on mine, his beard tickling my nose, and his hard need pressing into my lower abs.
My hands slip behind his neck and I hold him to me as he fucks my mouth, plunging his tongue in and out, so reminiscent of last night.
I’m ready to tear my clothes off.
When we part, my mouth drops open and air whooshes out.
“Wow.”
“Nice?” As stunned as me, he shakes his head, wide-eyed.
“Ah…” I shrug. To my defense, I did say better than nice. “Awesome?”
“Fucking awesome.” He says it more like a grumble which causes me even more confusion.
“And that’s a bad thing, why?”
“Because it wasn’t supposed to happen. Was it?”
Hell if I know how to answer. I guess he’s right. We’ve been attracted to each other since freshman year. Was this simply an itch needing to be scratched?
Shit, it’s more like hives or a hundred mosquito bites.
Well, dammit. Now he’s waiting for my response and my brain is all gummed up.
“So now what?” I place my hands on my hips and glare, forcing an answer from him.
“Well, sugar. The way I see it, we can pretend it never happened, we can be friends with benefits, or we can pursue this chemistry, and see where it leads. You up for that?” He chucks me under my chin and before I can answer, his phone pings, saving me.
“Shit.” He curses under his breath, calls up some app, types some stuff, and then hits send.
“Well?” His black lashes lift, his attention back on me.
“At the end of the semester-”
“Whoa, little lady. May is nine months down the road. How about we discuss the next seven days?”
We reach the edges of the outdoor theater and sit on the stone seats, knees touching. The weird thing about remaking yourself is the constant second guessing.
What would the new Star do?
The old one would walk away, not take chances. The new, pink-haired woman is a lot bolder.
“I guess we could wait and see.” Smiling, I lean in, cup his cheeks, and kiss him.
A small kernel of sanity, somewhere deep within the rational cerebral cortex, flashes alarm signals but I shut it down.
Not now, brain. This is my senior year, my last chance to have a fling. I’ve studied this shit. I know it’s going to hurt like hell and I’m okay with that.
I hope.
Chapter 5
Jackson
Out here, alone with Star, I can imagine myself as a guy without any problems; someone who doesn’t receive death threats at all hours of the day and night.
I check my phone and bet on a horse I’ve been following. This one has to come through. If not, I hate to imagine the consequences.
“Give me a second.” Standing, I walk to the back of the amphitheater, watch the race, and win.
If I were an addict, I’d feel some kind of a high or an adrenaline rush. Instead, I let out my breath, I PayPal all my winnings to the loan shark, and pray I made my interest payments. Otherwise, he may raise my principal or kill me.
“All set?” Brows creased, Star glances up as I trot back down the stairs,
“Yeah. Some shit back home. No big deal.” I sit down next to her and wipe the sweat from my forehead with a blue bandanna.
“Want to talk about it? I’m a real good listener.” Intelligent, clear blue eyes stare unblinking while I think.
“I don’t think so.” Damn, if she knew my secrets, she’d run and hide.
When her face turns down, I try to explain. “Listen, my cousin has juvenile diabetes with no insurance and I’m trying to help out.”
I didn’t lie, I merely left out a few facts she doesn’t need to know.
“Oh, that sucks.” She shakes her head back and forth.
“Yeah… He tried to ration out his insulin last summer and almost died. I was the one who called nine-one-one.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry. How old is he?” One of her hands covers my knee so I place mine on top and hold her there.
“He’s sixteen. His dad, my uncle, lost his job. Cobra ran out and his parents had to pay full price for the drug. Fucking pharmaceutical companies. They’re price gauging, everyone knows it, and yet no one does anything about it.”
“I read some people actually died. So, is he okay, now? Did your uncle get insurance, like Obama-care or something?”
I leave out how the only insurance they have is me getting into the NFL.
Nodding, I squeeze her hand. “He’s all set but of course, everyone in my family is worried about him.”
“Is that why you keep texting? To make sure he’s okay?”
“Mmm.” In a way.
Her smile makes my insides warm. She thinks I’m a nice guy.
What would she do if she knew I was in debt up to my eyeballs with the devil incarnate? Time to change the subject.
“Enough about me. What’s your story?” My phone pings.
Fuck, I should place this bet.
She glances down at my phone. “Do you need to text back?”
“Nope. All good. I’m all ears. Shoot.” I make a big show of turning off my phone.
“So, ah, my story? Not much to tell.” She gives her pretty shoulders a little shrug and I tug on a lock of her hair.
“Why pink?”
“Why not?” Her brows raise and I sense a bit of defiance.
“Hey, I like it. I was just wondering.” I tuck the silkiness behind her ear, loving the feel of her soft cheek and glad for the opportunity to touch her.
“I don’t know. I guess I got tired of doing…” She takes a deep breath and shakes her head back and forth. “No. I’m tired of being the person everyone expects me to be.”
Wow. It takes me a moment to respond. That was deep.
“Help me understand. What are those, ah… expectations?”
She sighs. “Well, for one thing, after I graduate here
, I’m going to get my doctorate in psychology,”
“That’s great.” I had no idea she was so smart.
“I guess.” She leans back and stares at the sky. “It’s at least another four years of school. All my friends are starting their lives, you know? And me? I’m only halfway done.”
“I can’t imagine.” My fingertip runs along her palm’s lifeline as she watches.
“It’s okay. I can’t picture getting the shit kicked out of me on the football field every day. That reminds me. I heard coach reaming you out this afternoon. Was he mad?”
It’s my turn to shrug. “It wasn’t one of my finer days… ”
My heart constricts because the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt her. “I think we need to, ah… not be seen together for a while.”
The sun goes under a cloud and I wish I could take it back when her sad eyes reach mine.
“Okay.”
I’d expected a bit of a fuss or some wounded shouting. This quiet resignation? I have no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do or say. “It’s not you, darlin’.”
“Do not finish.” She points a finger at my nose.
“How about this? I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year.”
Her scowl tells me she isn’t buying what I’m selling.
“It’s true. Remember the time I kissed you?”
She nods. “I remember real well. After, you avoided me like the plague.”
“Huh? That’s not how it went down. I asked you out and you refused.”
She clicks her tongue. “Right. By then, you had plenty of cleat-chasers. I didn’t want to be one your harem.”
“I only started dating when you didn’t return my texts. I was trying to get your attention.”
She frowns, stands, and brushes off the back of her shorts. “Water under the bridge, Farnsworth. So, are we done with our little heart-to-heart?”
The cold tone throws me but what did I expect? We slept together, had this amazing connection, and now I’m blowing her off. She deserves to be treated than that.
“The coach told me if I don’t get my act together, he’s benching me.”
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