Stealing the Bad Boy

by Emma St Clair

  “You’re going to drive her all the way here and drop her off?”

  “Something like that.”

  This whole conversation was blowing his mind. He’d started off cool, then furious, now a mix of confused and excited. Sy pinched the bridge of his nose.

  “You don’t think she’ll want to come. But you’ll get her here and then she’ll stay for a few days. Delia, this sounds like a joke.”

  Delia was silent for a moment. “Do you love her?”

  “What?” Sy’s throat went tight. His heart swelled and started beating like one of those giant drums in an orchestra.

  “You heard me.”

  Sy barked out an awkward laugh. “Delia, we’re not friends. This isn’t the kind of thing I’d share with someone like you. Especially after what you did. Are you sure this isn’t a trick?”

  “Look, dummy. I know I screwed up. I know. And I’m sorry. This is me trying to make it up to you and to her. Especially to her. If I drop her off at the stadium tomorrow for the game, can she stay with you for a few days or not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?”

  “Need me to say it again?”

  She laughed, then lowered her voice again. “Great. I’ll make sure she’s there tomorrow night for the game. If I run into trouble, I’ll message you.”

  Sy’s skin prickled. “What kind of trouble would you run into?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pack a bag for her. What will she need?”

  “I guess normal stuff. A bathing suit, maybe? I have a heated pool. Oh!” Running a hand through his hair, Sy smiled. “This is a big ask, but do you think that you could get her some formalwear? Like, a dress and shoes and whatever? There’s a charity prom the night after next. I’d planned to ask her and then …”

  Delia sighed. “And then I screwed it all up. Yeah. I’ll do my best. If not, you might have to take her out to get stuff. The whole Pretty Woman treatment.”

  “The what?”

  “Nothing. Just—if I can’t get that done, you’ll have to take her shopping.”

  “You’re really going to get her here?”

  “Yes. But she doesn’t know a thing about it, so don’t mention it.”

  “Okay … You’re sure about this?”

  “It’s the least I can do. She’s coming! Gotta go. Merry Christmas. And, Sy? Figure out the answer to my other question.”

  Delia hung up, and for a moment, Sy tried to remember her other question.

  Oh. That question. Do I love Amy?

  Though he hadn’t been willing to say it to Delia, Sy didn’t need to even think about the answer. He already knew.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Amy

  Covering her mouth, Amy tried to stifle another yawn. Then she glared at Delia as the elevator moved smoothly up to the higher levels of the stadium. “I can’t believe you drugged me.”

  Amy only felt a little bad as the woman in the Mustangs’ polo gave her sister a look. Delia just rolled her eyes. “Melatonin isn’t a drug. I take it all the time. It’s totally natural, and it just made you a little sleepy.”

  “A little? It knocked me out all the way from Katy to San Antonio.”

  “Whatever. If you can’t tell the difference between melatonin gummies and gummy candy, that’s on you.”

  “They really were delicious,” Amy muttered.

  Which did not, in any way, make this her fault or make what Delia had done okay. Earlier in the afternoon, Delia insisted that they go peruse the post-Christmas sales. She also bribed her with a bag of mixed gummy candy, insisting that Amy let Delia drive. Which made very little sense.

  Until Amy woke up in San Antonio.

  Where apparently, she and Delia were attending a Mustangs game as a surprise Christmas present. And despite everything that happened with Sy, the football fangirl in Amy was having trouble staying mad that Delia slipped two melatonin gummies into the bag of mixed gummy candy. Especially not when the elevator dinged, and the doors whooshed open revealing a pristine hallway.

  “Box seat level?” Amy’s voice was more of a reverent whisper. Her crossed arms fell to her sides. She turned to Delia, who was smirking. “How did you—”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Amy wrapped her arm around her sister. “I forgive you. Drug me anytime.”

  Clearing her throat, the woman in the polo gestured down the wide hallway. “This way, ladies.”

  Amy was practically skipping. She totally would have too—if she didn’t still have the uneasy, nervous feeling in her stomach, knowing that Sy was somewhere in this stadium.

  Nope. Not going to think about him. At least, not like that. Not like the man I maybe love and definitely cannot have. He’s just number fifty-seven, Sy LaMarque, star linebacker for the Mustangs.

  And I definitely will not think at all about how his lips feel on mine. Nope. Nope. Nope.

  “Ames? You okay?”

  Amy hoped the flush she felt creeping up her neck wasn’t totally obvious. “I’m just excited.”

  Delia knew her well enough to know that Amy wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she also knew her well enough to leave it alone. For now.

  The woman stopped, gesturing to a door. “Ladies, this is your box.”

  Amy’s feet almost skidded to a stop. She looked through the door. She looked at the woman. She looked at Delia.

  “But this is—this is—”

  “A luxury box,” Delia said. “Now get in there. Go!” Delia shooed Amy with two hands.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. Amy squealed, feeling like a little kid. Delia grabbed her arm, looking just as excited, and they walked into the wide room with open windows on the front overlooking the field. The first thing Amy did was rush to that window and stick her head out. The view from the field was amazing, and just below the window were rows of regular seats where she could hear the fans’ chatter. It was like the best of both worlds.

  And if the view weren’t enough, huge flat-screen televisions covered the walls, showing the field as well as Sports Central coverage. Plush red seats filled the room and a table holding a spread of game snacks that made Amy’s stomach grumble.

  “This is the best present ever!” Amy gave her sister another hug. “But it’s way too expensive! You said you were going broke, so time to fess up. How did you pull it off?”

  “Get some food. Then let’s sit and talk.” Delia ducked under Amy’s arm and started loading up a plate with food.

  Amy followed, but kept her eyes on her sister. Just like Delia knew Amy had been telling a half-truth earlier, Amy knew that there was more to the story. The question was: would she like whatever that was? Probably not. Because she suspected it had everything to do with a certain linebacker.

  As soon as they were seated in the front next to the open windows, Amy turned to her sister. “What’s the deal? How are we here? Don’t tell me it’s—”

  “Sy.”

  Amy groaned and tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling. “You didn’t call him and beg for tickets.”

  “Nope. I didn’t.”

  Amy’s head snapped to Delia. “You didn’t tell him about my”—she swallowed—“thing-that-shall-not-be-named?”

  “No. Here’s the thing. Yesterday, I happened to be looking at your phone when some texts from Sy popped up. He invited you to this game. But I knew you’d probably ignore him. So, I deleted them and then called him myself to sort out the details.”

  Amy’s mouth fell open. Sy had texted her.

  Sy texted her, and Delia had deleted it. It was such a violation that Amy felt like she’d been slapped in the face. After what Delia had done just days ago, this shook the tentative trust she was placing in her sister. Who had leaked lies to the press, basically forced her to break up with Sy, drugged her, and deleted texts. Amy just stared at her sister.

  “How are we related? I just—I don’t understand, Deels. I’m trying here. But you are making it so hard to trust you.”
>
  “I deserve that,” Delia said. Amy’s eyebrows went up at how agreeable she sounded. But then her sister held up a finger. “But. I really messed things up with y’all. And I plan to make it right.”

  Amy was already shaking her head. “I told you. I can’t let him be with me. Not with … everything.”

  “Because you said you love him. Right? And love does what’s best for the other person.”

  Amy gave her a sad smile. “Yep.”

  “So, you should understand. I love you, and what’s best for you is not to push away the guy you love who is still pursuing you. Shut up and enjoy the game and these seats that Sy hooked us up with because he l-o-o-o-o-ves you.”

  Amy opened her mouth to argue, but Delia grabbed her arm. “Look! The Mustangs are taking the field!”

  Amy half stood, almost spilling her whole plate on the pristine floors. She managed to force her butt back in the seat but leaned forward, searching for the big, hulking man with the fifty-seven on his jersey. There!

  She had gotten the chance to see Sy play a few times over the years. Once at UT and then a few times when the Mustangs played Houston. And every time, she was astounded by the way he looked in full uniform. The way his biceps bulged out from the sleeves of his jersey, the way his butt and thighs filled out those tight pants. He really did look like he had been sculpted from stone. Totally a work of art.

  Is he looking up here?

  Amy swore that he was searching the stands, looking at the boxes. Looking for her? Her questions vanished when his eyes seemed to stop at their box. They were pretty high up, but he must have recognized their small figures in the window of the box. He froze, then lifted a hesitant hand in greeting. Amy’s heart seemed to seize behind her ribs.

  Almost as if someone else were lifting it for her, Amy’s hand rose up and she wiggled her fingers. Even with the helmet on, Amy could see the gleaming white of Sy’s smile.

  Delia nudged her. “See? Stop worrying. Stop overthinking. Stop holding back. You two are adorable together. You’re going to marry Sy so this can be our life forever.”

  “Delia,” Amy hissed, looking around the room.

  A few other people had joined them. Amy didn’t know any of them or if they knew Sy or other players, and she definitely didn’t want anyone hearing their conversation. She’d worried enough coming tonight with Delia after the article about Sy cheating with them. So far, no one had recognized the two of them, a small thing she could be thankful for. Maybe it would be different down in the stands.

  “Could you see yourself marrying him?”

  Amy kept her eyes trained on the field. “Haven’t thought about it.” Lie. She’d only been imagining it since she was in middle school.

  “Right. Like you haven’t already imagined your perfect dress and what kinds of flowers you’ll have and what your kids’ names will be.”

  Busted.

  The players had disappeared, and the announcers got louder, preparing for the team introductions and the National Anthem.

  “You should text him,” Delia said. “Just let him know you’re here and that you like the box. And his butt in those pants.”

  “Delia!” Amy said, but she was laughing. Her sister only shrugged.

  They stood for the National Anthem and Amy found herself with tears in her eyes. It’s just a game, she tried to tell herself. But she felt way more invested than that.

  Even if things hadn’t happened with Sy this week, being at his game would have been a monumental experience. As the canons went off and fireworks rained down from the top of the stadium, Amy wiped her eyes. She realized Delia was wiping hers too.

  “Look at us! Crying over a football game,” Amy said, giggling.

  Delia sniffed. “Shut up. And don’t tell anyone. I don’t really even like football. This just feels like a big deal.”

  Amy squeezed her hand as they both sat down. “It is. And, despite everything, or maybe because of it, I’m glad you’re here with me. You’re a good sister, D.”

  “I’m not. But I’m working on it. And I promise to have your back, no matter what happens. Okay?”

  “You’re going to make me cry again. And I really just want to watch the coin toss, so no offense, but stop talking.”

  “Done.” Delia grinned as Amy leaned even farther over, trying to see more of the field. “You know there are TVs—”

  “Sh!” Amy smacked Delia on the arm, then stood up and cheered when the Mustangs got the ball. “Oh, sorry,” she said, looking around the room. But the other people in the box only smiled and laughed. Most of them looked just as excited as she did.

  It took Amy until the second quarter to get up the nerve to text Sy. Not like he was going to see it until after the game. She wasn’t planning to stick around to see him after the press conference or whatever he had to do after the game. As soon as they blew the last whistle, Amy was going to steal her keys back from Delia and get them the heck out of here and drive straight back to Katy.

  When Delia went to the bathroom, Amy pulled out her phone, typing and deleting three different messages before finally settling on words that felt … okay. Nothing felt right. Because being with Sy had felt right.

  Amy: I’m here. This box is incredible. Thank you! Best of luck tonight.

  The phrases she typed and then deleted:

  I miss you

  You look great out there!

  See you soon

  By the time Delia got back, Amy had safely tucked her phone back in her purse. It was almost halftime, and the Mustangs were up by fourteen. Sy was a beast on the field, with a ton of key tackles and two sacks. Every time he hit someone or, on the rare occasion, was hit, twin surges of adrenaline and panic hit Amy. She wanted to stand and cheer and also hide her face under her hands.

  When the players left the field, Amy stood and stretched, rolling her neck to try and ease some of the tension there. “I’m going to head to the bathroom. Be right back.”

  Delia’s eyes went wide, and she grabbed Amy’s arm. “No! Wait. You’re going to want to see the halftime show.”

  “Are they doing something special? I thought that was just big games.”

  “It’s that, um, band you love. The one with the guy singing.”

  Amy narrowed her eyes and pulled her arm out of Delia’s grasp. “That describes most of the bands I like. Why are you being weird?”

  “I’m not. I—” Delia’s gaze moved behind Amy, and a huge grin overtook her face. She nudged Amy’s arm and tipped her chin toward the big, open window behind them.

  Amy turned, slowly, realizing that there was a hush over the stadium. The hairs on her arms began to stand on end before she even finished turning to see Sy in the window.

  She blinked.

  He grinned.

  She blinked again.

  His helmet was off, and his dark hair was messy and matted with sweat. But his warm honey eyes were bright and fixed right on her. He must be standing on a ladder or something in the stands below.

  Only then did Amy realize he held out a bouquet of what looked like wildflowers. And that a cameraman was poised almost next to him, filming. From the corner of her eye, she saw another in the room with her, off to her left. Delia stepped back to give him an unobstructed view. And then she saw her startled face on the TVs in the room and down on the screens down below over the field.

  A sound like a wheeze escaped her throat before she managed to croak out, “Sy?”

  “Hey, Ames.” His voice sounded soft, like he was speaking just to her, not in front of a massive audience. “I had a question I wanted to ask you. Is that okay?”

  Amy could only nod. She felt hot and cold, totally aware of every detail and also like she was dreaming. But she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the man in front of her, the one who was now holding out the bouquet to her, while extending his other hand, palm up. She stepped forward, pulling the flowers to her chest and sliding her palm into his.

  Tears pricked at her eyes as his f
ingers closed around hers. The ache that had been present in her chest since she let him walk away eased, and a sigh escaped her lips.

  “Amy, six years ago, I made a real mess of things on prom night. I know I really disappointed you. Tomorrow night, we’re hosting a charity prom, and I was wondering if you would give me a second chance. Would you come with me to prom?” He lowered his voice and pulled her slightly closer until his lips were right next to her ear. “I promise not to get arrested this time. And also? This will just be you and me. Not as friends. As a date.”

  His breath on her ear and neck made her shiver as he spoke. Sy should smell like sweat, but Amy could only pick up on that heady, masculine scent of his cologne or deodorant. The feel of him so close, his scent, and the words he said were intoxicating, overwhelming. Exhilarating.

  As Sy pulled back, studying her face with a hopeful look in those rich, brown eyes, Amy found herself nodding, as though she had no other choice.

  “Yes. I’d love to go.”

  The smile that lit his face warmed Amy down to her toes. And when he leaned in to press his lips softly against hers, all worries, doubts, and logical arguments faded away as though they’d never been there at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sy

  As the band played an orchestral version of “Unforgettable,” Sy pulled Amy even closer. He loved the feel of her in his arms, how his big hand could almost span the width of her back, and the way he could tuck his chin over the top of her head. He may not have wanted to come to this event at all, and maybe he couldn’t do much more on the dance floor than sway like this, but he wouldn’t trade this night for anything.

  At that moment, Hulk moved past them, doing some kind of complicated ballroom steps with his date. Sy’s brows shot up his forehead. Who knew that such a bulky guy could do that kind of footwork. Hulk caught his eye, winking and giving him a thumbs-up before he and his date were lost in the crowd.