Touchdown: A Quick Snap Novella

by Maria Macdonald

  “Fool man.”

  A chorus of insults call out from both the staff and customers as Benny winks at me then a grin forms across his face. I laugh, I can’t help it, the man has as much hate in his body as he has tact, and that is none of each.

  He’s harmless, and all I can do is laugh my way back to my car.

  Chapter 4

  Jasmine

  The screams are deafening as usual when the Seahawks score. Even from inside at the concession stand the noise travels. Tristan, the guy I’m working with, ignores the customers in favor of watching the game on the television screen. The line is short as most people are already in the stands, but there’s still a steady trickle.

  By the time the game is over, and everyone rushes out to buy more food before heading home, I’m practically screaming at him to get behind the counter and serve. At this point, he’s too busy chatting to a couple of preppy girls with Seahawks jerseys tied under their bras and blue paint on their faces. As a result, the line moves at a snail’s pace, and people get angry and frustrated with me.

  My job wraps up an hour later than expected, and I punch Tristan in the thigh as I walk out. He grumbles at me, but he knows it was justified.

  “Hey,” a deep voice rumbles from behind me as I exit the stadium. With the sky now starting to get dark, I ignore the voice and continue walking. There are enough people around, the voice could be for anyone. “Hey,” his deep timbre rumbles through my chest as a firm hand grips my shoulder.

  I screech, spinning around and preparing myself for God knows what. He holds his hands up, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s the sexy man-mountain from the other night. I stand admiring his face, the strong jawline and beautiful light brown eyes teamed with thick black eyelashes. Before I can come out of my frozen perusal, my eyes meet his smiling mouth. I ignore the fact he has lush kissable lips and a beautiful smile, and instead acknowledge the fact he’s laughing at me.

  “Why are you laughing at me?” I choke out, annoyed and confused.

  “Pixie, you’re standing in a karate pose. Are you going to chop me?” he asks, laughing again.

  Slowly, I drop my hands, bring my feet closer together and stand tall. Well, as tall as a barely over five-foot woman can, when faced with a man over a foot taller than her. “Glad I provided your amusement for the evening,” I say snarkily before turning and rushing away from him.

  “Wait, wait,” he calls out, only it’s through laughter.

  So I ignore him, while cursing my car once again for being a piece of shit and heading for the bus stop.

  “Come on, Jasmine,” he calls, humor still laced in his voice.

  I turn and walk backward along the sidewalk as I talk to him. “So, you know my name and yeah, you helped me the other night…” his brow furrows, “… erm, thank you for that by the way.” A blush creeps up my neck at being so rude as to not thank him before. God knows what would have happened if he hadn’t have turned up. “But it’s beside the point.”

  He smirks. “What is your point?”

  “I, well…” I pause, then open my mouth again, but before I can get anymore words out, I back into something. “Shit,” I curse. Looking behind me I see I’ve walked into the glass wall of the bus stop. At least I’ve ended up where I was heading.

  “Now that you’ve stopped running, can I finally talk to you?” he asks, resting his arm above my head. From anyone else it could be perceived as them boxing me in, but this guy is so tall, I could easily move away.

  The truth is, I don’t want to move.

  The intensity in his eyes, the smell of his cologne, the softness of his lips are not the only things making my body automatically react to his.

  I want to walk away.

  I want to ignore whatever he has to say.

  But even though I wonder how many girls he’s said it to before, I still want to hear his words, so I tip my chin up, acknowledging him and he offers me a breathtaking smile.

  This man! Damn this man.

  “We met the other night when you dropped food on my dick. I’m Solomon.”

  I open my mouth to reply, probably with a smartass remark, but he places a finger against my lips for only a second, and I’m pretty sure my body almost combusts.

  “It was probably the most fun I’ve had at one of those stuffy team meals,” he chuckles, and it vibrates through my body. I just about manage to stop myself from closing my eyes and groaning. Damn, it’s been too long since I’ve had sex.

  “I want to take you out.” Solomon’s tone is so low, sensual, and I don’t think he realizes how sexy his voice is.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I answer. My body screams at me internally, arguing with my answer.

  “Why not?” he replies cautiously.

  I look up into his light brown eyes that hold so much emotion. “Because I don’t think I’m your type.”

  “Why?” Solomon’s voice changes, he straightens then pulls away from me, and I immediately miss his closeness.

  I smile and look down at the ground. “I’m normal… I don’t look like Lucy Larson or Cara Blue,” I answer, thinking about the singer and the actress who are both beautiful, tall, slender, with big breasts and long hair.

  Solomon steps closer to me again and places a gentle finger on my chin, raising my head until our eyes meet. “From where I’m standing, you look pretty perfect, and I know the reputation of a football player leans toward those types of girls, but it don’t mean we all want women like that,” he answers with a simple shrug.

  I try to think about his appearances in various tabloids, along with online gossip sites. I have to admit after seeing Solomon the other night, I did try to do a quick investigation of him online, although my laptop only gave me ten minutes before it shut down, so it wasn’t thorough by any means. Still, although he was pictured with a bunch of different women, there wasn’t a definitive type.

  I stare into his eyes, they’re clear, honest, so I bite down my initial fears and do something different. “Okay,” I reply, and his immediate smile is blinding.

  “Tomorrow?”

  I shake my head, laughing. “I work all week. Well, every evening.” I shrug.

  “Okay.” He rubs the back of his neck in thought. “I have Wednesday off training next week. It’s further away than I’d like, but I’ll take you out for lunch.”

  “Sure,” I answer, more confidently, even though technically he didn’t ask. “Tell me where and I’ll meet you there.”

  “It’s a date,” Solomon states. I shrug but remain quiet. “I’ll pick you up,” he informs me.

  “I, erm, w-well,” I stutter. The truth is, I’m embarrassed for someone like him to see where I live.

  “Where’s your cell?” he asks, and I’m momentarily confused as I automatically pass him my cell. He taps on it then hands it back. “My number is in there and I called my cell. Send me your address, and I’ll pick you up at noon next Wednesday,” he orders.

  “I live in South Park,” I blurt, like it’s some sort of hidden secret.

  “Like I said, I’ll pick you up next Wednesday,” he reaffirms.

  Leaning down he kisses my cheek and a frisson of heat rushes through me from the small touch. “Erm… what are you doing?” I question when Solomon doesn’t leave.

  “Let me give you a ride home.”

  “No, I’m good catching the bus.”

  “You’ll be safer if I take you home.” He pushes both his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunch forward, and even as tall and as wide as he is, the pose gives him a vulnerability.

  I sigh realizing the bus will likely be another thirty minutes at least, and the sky is almost completely black. Although, I have no problem getting on the bus, and it’s probably not a smart move getting into a car with someone I don’t actually know, I feel safe in his presence. Safer than I have in a long time. “Okay,” I whisper.

  Solomon takes my hand in his, and my instant reaction is to pull a
way, but he squeezes it gently, reassuringly, so I let him lead me. Considering his legs are so long I expect him to stride away, and for me to struggle to keep up with him, but he takes his time and stays at my pace. I remain silent as we walk back to the stadium and down into a parking garage.

  “Evening, Mr. Lee,” the guard on the door greets. “Evening Miss,” he says looking at me.

  “Hello,” I murmur, smiling.

  “Hey, Bert, how’s the family?” Solomon asks.

  “Good, thank you,” the older man replies as we move past him then into the garage. It’s nearly empty, just a couple of cars sitting in bays, and as Solomon pulls me to the right, I know he’s headed toward a sleek black four by four.

  “This is nice,” I say standing on the passenger side as he presses a button and unlocks the car.

  “It’s my Range Rover. It’s the first car I bought when I signed my contract,” he tells me, but it’s not in the bragging way I expected from him, he’s only sharing information with me, and it’s nice, comfortable.

  “It’s not shiny,” I point out stupidly and he chuckles.

  “No, I had a matte black paint job and added the black rims,” he tells me as he opens the door for me to get in. Once I’m inside, Solomon shuts the door and jogs around the hood to slide in his side. “I also had the blackout windows installed.”

  “So, people don’t recognize you in traffic jams?” I giggle and he wrinkles his nose seemingly embarrassed. It’s super cute, and I find myself about to lean over and touch it before I correct my behavior. Damn, I’ve literally just met this guy two days ago, and I’m already wanting to treat him like a long-lost friend. I’ve always been overly tactile, but it’s usually only with people I’ve known for a while, but for some reason, this man causes a reaction in me I can’t control.

  “Tell me your address so I know where we’re going.”

  “I live on Cloverdale Street. Start down there and I’ll point out my building,” I tell him.

  “No problem,” he answers, turning the car on, and making his way out of the underground parking garage. Music starts in the background, it’s loud enough to take away an uncomfortable silence but without stopping us talking. I sit quietly, watching the world pass by from the comfort of his car until he speaks again, “So, you waitress full time?” he questions.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I mean, the private function you had the other day was the first one I’ve done. Normally, I waitress at the Carbis Restaurant and Grill, or serve at the concession stand on game days.” I elaborate, “Is football your full-time job?” I ask then roll my eyes for being so dumb.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, it takes up most of my time, what with training and games.”

  “You date a lot?” I ask and immediately want to inject a new kind of high-end filter between my brain and mouth, because mine has obviously stopped working.

  He glances over at me and smiles his devastatingly handsome smile again. “Not as much as you’d think,” he replies and I’m even more curious, but I decide to stop asking stupid questions.

  “So, you have any future plans?” he asks, looking over at me before going back to the road. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being a waitress, just wondered if you had anything else you’d like to do?” His knuckles grip the steering wheel harder, and I wonder if there’s more meaning behind the question, so I decide to tease him.

  “Well, I don’t plan on waitressing my whole life. I mean, once I find a husband I’ll stay at home. Maybe go shopping, you know… have lunch with the ladies.”

  I watch him closely keeping a perfectly straight face as he clears his throat. “Sounds like a plan,” he croaks out and I start laughing. I can’t help it, as the happiness bubbles up inside me and I see the flash of relief in his eyes before he smiles and shakes his head. “That was not nice.” He grins.

  “I’m playing. But your face…” I shake my head, “… I wish I’d taken a photo.” Smiling at him as he mirrors the look back at me, I realize I haven’t felt this genuinely happy for a while. I don’t know what it is about this guy, but he does something to me, something amazing. “No, seriously now…” I continue. “I’m saving to do an online course. I’m hoping it will get me into the social care area.” I shrug. “It’s what I want to do.”

  We pull onto Cloverdale Street and I’m brought back to reality. We’re worlds apart. This guy has the looks, the body, the money, the stature, and I’m just, well, me. Nothing.

  “You can pull over right here, thanks,” I tell him.

  “You live here?” he replies, and I shrug. “You either do or you don’t, Pixie.”

  “I live further down,” I whisper back.

  “Okay, no big deal, just tell me when to stop.”

  I nod, feeling uncomfortable all of a sudden. There are people milling about on the streets and they don’t miss his car. Even though it’s not as flashy as I’m sure it could be, it still stands out.

  “Here, I live in the block on the right,” I tell him, and he slowly pulls up to the curbside.

  Jumping out when we stop, Solomon comes around to my side, opens my door and helps me out. “What are you doing?” I question.

  “Taking you to your door.” His answer is so matter of fact, he makes it sound like I’m the crazy one.

  “You might find you come back to your car and your wheels are gone, Solomon,” I mutter looking around at the crazies hanging on the street. These people are crazy, they’re my crazy, but I still wouldn’t mess with them, especially if I had money.

  “Come on.” He chuckles, taking my hand and pulling me along. “Hey, brother, can you watch my ride while I take Pixie to her door?” he asks some dude hanging around the front of my building, lazing in a deck chair. Shoving what looks like a hundred-dollar bill at him the guy’s eyes light up.

  “Will do,” he replies on a nod, pushing the bill in his pocket.

  Solomon drags me toward the entrance. “Which apartment is yours?” he asks.

  “Fourth floor, last apartment,” I tell him.

  We make our way up the stairs, seeing as there’s no elevator. Well, there is, but it’s always out of service.

  “Now, I see how you keep your body in such good shape,” he states from behind me as we hit the last set of steps.

  I don’t say anything in reply, but a smile plays on my lips even though he can’t see it.

  “Well, this is me,” I tell him when we reach my door.

  “Okay, baby, I can see this is the end of the evening for us, but I’m gonna hit you up later with a text, make sure you’re good. Then I’ll come for you next Wednesday.”

  “Okay.” My voice is breathy like I’m a phone sex operator, and my cheeks heat as he stands grinning down at me. He’s obviously noticed it, too.

  Shoot me now.

  Leaning down, quite a bit down, Solomon presses his lips to mine. It’s a light kiss, just a tender touch, so I know he likes me. There’s a gentle pressure, and his hand runs down the back of my neck as he pulls away.

  The moment he does I want more.

  This man, God this man.

  I want to drag him into my apartment and do way more than share a single, soft, kiss.

  Instead, I step back, and turn to face my door, trying to shove the key in the lock twice before Solomon takes it from my shaky hands with a light chuckle and opens the door for me.

  “Go on in, baby, before I follow you inside and do things you’re not ready for.” His deep throaty voice shows how he’s also struggling with his own needs right now.

  “See you next Wednesday,” I say, deciding sensible is the way to go. I rush inside and close my door, peeking through my window until I see him bump fists with the dude watching his car, get in and drive away.

  I have no idea why this guy makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, especially seeing as I barely know him. If he had pushed tonight, I would have invited him in, let him own me, own my body.

  What the hell is wrong with me? I question,
pulling at my short hair.

  It’s later, after I’ve showered and changed into pajamas, eaten a bowl of cereal and scanned through Facebook on my laptop that I notice he’s sent me a text. I laugh at the name he gave himself when he put his number into my cell, it’s his football nickname.

  Solomon ‘The Boss’ Lee: Hey Pixie, tell me you’re all good and looking forward to our lunch next Tuesday.

  I smile and settle myself back against my headboard. Pushing my laptop away, I text him back.

  Jasmine: Hey ‘Boss’, our lunch is next Wednesday.

  I remind him, then change his name on my phone before his next text comes through.

  Man Mountain: Can’t blame me for trying to see you earlier.

  I snort at him, but as I catch my face in the mirror I can see I’m beaming.

  Jasmine: Well, you could try but I’d stand you up cause I’m out next Tuesday.

  Man Mountain: You wound me Pixie. I’m hurt.

  I laugh out loud, and in my silent apartment it feels weird. I feel weird, but in a ridiculously happy way.

  Jasmine: I’m going to sleep, maybe you should do the same, didn’t you say you had training all week, you’re probably going to need your sleep.

  Man Mountain: For sure. Night Pixie, sweet dreams.

  I smile and switch my phone off. Snuggling under my blankets I think about Solomon, how he’s breezed into my life and already made a difference. I’m not sure if it’s a healthy thing or not. I mean, he could leave my life just as quick, but right now, I don’t have the mental strength to stop myself from being drawn in by him, and for the first time in a while, I’m happy.

  Chapter 5

  Solomon

  “So, did you find Jasmine?” Will asks after our workout session on Monday.

  “Yeah,” I don’t elaborate.

  He pulls his hoodie over his head and grabs his bag walking out the door with Brax and me.

  “You not gonna tell us how it went?” Brax questions.

  “Nope,” I answer as we all walk to our cars.