by Cassie Cole
“Huh?”
“You said I’m different. Before the waitress came.”
“Oh, right.” He ran his hand through his blond hair. Every strand fell back into place. “Hell yeah. You’re not like the other girls.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Meaning I’m not smoking hot?”
“That isn’t what I said, and it’s definitely not what I meant.”
“So I am hot?”
“Try all you want, Roberta—you’re not going to corner me.” He smirked. “As a communications major, I’m well-versed in logical fallacies.”
“Fine, fine,” I said, sipping on my beer. “So, how am I different than the other girls?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “The other girls all try so hard. They spend a few hundred bucks at the salon every weekend, and twice as much on skimpy dresses. The only reason many of them are at college is to find a husband. But with you…”
He shrugged.
“It seems so effortless with you. You’re just you, rather than spending a ton of effort trying to be someone else. I don’t have to keep my guard up. It’s refreshing. It means I can be myself around you.” He paused. “I don’t get a lot of opportunities to be someone other than the star quarterback.”
“I understand,” I said, even though I didn’t really. The way Danny was looking at me made me want to blush. Like he was telling me something he’d been wrestling with for a while.
This definitely feels like a date.
“So,” Danny said to change the subject. “Why’d you need a beer tonight?”
I took a long drink from my beer, then sighed. “It’s Feña. He’s mad at me for the game.”
Danny’s eyes widened with surprise, then anger. “Is he seriously blaming you for how he played? What a shitty, cowardly thing to throw at you…”
“But it’s true,” I moaned. “I thought spacing the workouts with a day of rest before the game would be fine. But I did some extra research and discovered that I didn’t account for the extra muscle soreness he would experience during the first week while adjusting to the workout.”
“I thought you had him squatting and deadlifting at lighter weights. Nowhere near his one-rep max.”
“Turns out it doesn’t matter how heavy they are. There’s still an adjustment period for the first week where their muscles are all out of whack. Especially with a precision position like kicker.”
I expected Danny to protest more and say that I was being too hard on myself. Guys liked to try to downplay mistakes that women made as if it wasn’t a big deal. To Danny’s credit, he only nodded.
“That sucks. Did you own up to it to Feña?”
“I haven’t had a chance. The last I talked to him was right after the game when he snapped at me. Ugh, I’m so stupid Danny! I was arrogant to think I could do this.”
Danny gave me a funny look. “Now you’re just being dumb. You’ve been great so far. Lance has been singing your praises all afternoon. He thinks that KT tape is magic.” He rolled his shoulder in the socket. “And my triceps is much better with your care. Yeah, Feña’s missed field goals cost us a few points. But without my arm in good condition, and without Lance’s hamstring, we wouldn’t have won at all. The good outweighs the bad.”
The compliment chipped away at my self-loathing. Not a lot, but enough to make me feel a little better. “I just hope Feña doesn’t quit the program. The weight lifting will really help his kicking distance over time.”
“I hope he sticks with it too,” Danny said studying his beer. “Feña was borderline good enough to make an NFL team last year, but since his maximum distance has shrunk… He really needs to get that power back if he’s going to have a chance.”
“That’s just what I needed,” I said dryly. “More pressure.”
“I’m not worried about you folding under pressure. You’ll do fine.”
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
He grinned. “Because I can tell that you’ve got it. You’re going to do what needs to be done, regardless of the stakes. And before you ask how I know this,” he quickly added, “it’s because I have it too. So does Lance. We shine when the pressure is on.”
“An hour ago, I was pouting in bed and thinking about how I should quit kinesiology altogether.”
“That’s fine,” Danny said encouragingly. “It’s alright to break down when you’re alone. I’ve had a lot of days like that where I doubt myself and am certain I can’t succeed. But when things start up again, I know you’ll do great. You’ll be the physical trainer we need.”
Somehow I doubted that the steely-eyed Danny Armstrong ever felt crippling self-doubt, but I only nodded. His pep talk had imbued me with enough encouragement that I didn’t feel like crawling into a ball and crying myself to sleep tonight.
“When should I talk to him?” I asked.
“Give him some space,” Danny said. “Feña’s the kind of guy who gets angry, fumes for a day or two, and then comes to his senses. But he always does. He’s a smart guy. He’ll come around.”
The waitress returned with the cheeseburgers. “Two blue cheese royals, medium rare, with a side of sweet potato fries and crack sauce.”
I stared at the burger after she left. “I ordered a what?”
“It’s a royal burger,” Danny said. “Fried egg, bacon, and blue cheese sauce. I have one after every game.”
“That sounds… interesting. And what is this sauce?” I pointed to the little cup of white sauce. It looked like mayo.
Danny picked up his burger with both hands. “Crack sauce! It’s for the fries. Trust me, it’s amazing.”
I wasn’t really a fan of sweet potato fries, so I took hold of the burger. Greasy white cheese sauce slid down the side. But I didn’t want to seem like a picky girl, so I jumped right in and took a big bite. Flavor exploded in my mouth, sharp from the cheese and salty from the bacon and fried egg. Then came the sweet and tangy mixture of the ketchup and mustard on the bottom bun.
“Holy shit,” I said with a mouthful. “This is good.”
“Mmm hmm,” he replied back.
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until that moment. I took another bite, then a third, wolfing it down and not caring that grease ran down my chin. Before I knew it, the burger was gone.
“You need another beer to wash that down, sweetie?” the waitress asked.
“Yes please.”
Danny shook his head when she looked at him.
“Try the fries,” Danny said. He was still only halfway done with his burger. “Seriously. They’re amazing.”
I took a bite of one of the fries. They were pretty good for sweet potato fries, crispy instead of mushy. But Danny shook his head.
“Try it with the sauce.”
I dipped the next fry in the little cup. The sauce was gooey, with a texture I couldn’t quite place. It didn’t look like mayo. I took a bite.
“It’s sweet!” I exclaimed.
“That’s the crack sauce,” the waitress said as she delivered my beer. “Marshmallow sauce, but it’s addictive like crack.”
I dipped two more fries into it, this time getting a big healthy dollop of sauce. “This is amazing!”
“Told you,” Danny said smugly.
The door opened and three big guys came in. I only glanced at them, but they stared at me for a long moment, then came strutting over. When Danny noticed them, he tensed. I realized why when I saw what was on their T-shirts:
SAN ANTONIO STATE
FOOTBALL TEAM
“If it isn’t the moonwalker himself,” the lead guy said. He had jet black hair that was either sweaty or greasy, and a permanent smirk on his face. Even though he was just standing there, a vein bulged out of his neck as if he was squatting his one-rep max.
Danny put down his burger and wiped his hands on a napkin. “How’ve you been, Nicky?”
“Oh, we’ve been great,” Nicky said dramatically. “We whooped up on Lone Star Tech today, 63-14. Don’t know if you saw the score.
”
“You guys play for San Antonio State?” I asked.
“Don’t waste your breath talking to them, Roberta,” Danny said.
“You could say that,” Nicky drawled in a thick Texas accent. He stuck out a meaty hand. “Nicholas Tarkenton.”
“He’s the quarterback,” one of the other guys said, like a hype man delivering a line. “You won’t forget his name.”
Danny rolled his eyes at me and gave me a look: Can you believe these guys?
Nicky frowned with mock confusion. “Speaking of quarterbacks, I heard you had trouble against St. Edwards. Someone told me the final score was 28-24, but that can’t be right. They’re garbage. Appleton must have a real shit team this year if they can just barely beat St. Edwards.”
“A win’s a win,” Danny said smoothly.
Nicky barked a laugh, and his henchmen laughed with him after a moment. “We beat St. Edwards last week by 40 points.”
Danny calmly sipped his beer. He wasn’t going to rise to the bait of these guys.
But I didn’t have his restraint.
“Big fucking deal,” I said. “You can run up the score against a lousy team. We spent the game trying new strategies. Perfecting our trick plays. Much better than scoring garbage-time TDs in the fourth quarter, but hey, if you want to brag about that be my guest.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Nicky asked.
“Just an avid fan of the Appleton Stingers,” I said with a too-sweet mile. “Even I can see that San Antonio is all flash, no substance. Like marshmallow sauce.” I dipped my finger in the cup and took a lick of the sweet sauce.
Nicky looked like he didn’t know what to say to me, so he turned back to Danny. “Appleton women are weird. Have fun sticking your dick in crazy, moonwalker. I just hope it doesn’t rub off and mess up your game, because you’re going to need your A-game against us.”
They laughed their way across the restaurant to a booth in the other corner while shouting at the waitress for a pitcher of beer.
“They were charming,” I muttered.
Danny gritted his teeth. “Prick. God, I hope we beat San Antonio at the end of the season. Wipe that smile off that asshole’s face.”
His cheeks were red like he’d run a marathon, and his nostrils flared while he sipped his beer. It was strange seeing the normally cool quarterback so flustered and angry.
“Well, you’ve already stuck your dick in crazy,” I said to take away the sting of the encounter. “So that’s one less thing to worry about.”
“You are the least crazy thing in this restaurant right now,” Danny assured me.
“And you’re a lot more charming than Nicky.” I said his name distastefully. “Being good at football is useless if you look like a greasy Friday Night Lights extra.”
Danny roared with laughter, which made the three San Antonio players look our way. I grinned and waved at them until they turned back around.
“Why did he call you moonwalker?”
“Cause I have the same last name as Neil Armstrong.”
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I asked.
“It’s not a clever taunt, no.”
When we got on the bike to leave, we were both in better moods despite our respective annoyances. After three beers, the ride was smooth and relaxing, and holding onto Danny’s chiseled form was the perfect therapy for my bad day. And once again, the giant motorized vibrator between my legs spread a warm, tingling feeling throughout my body and had me fantasizing about the man I was with.
The smooth confidence he exuded on the field, whipping the ball to his receivers with precision and power. The way he’d smiled at me at the party three weeks ago. The feel of his fingers rubbing my pussy upstairs at the party, and the way his cock filled me when we got back to his place.
The knowledge that he was the captain of the football team, the star quarterback, and out of everyone at the party that night he’d taken me home.
Once I began thinking about it I couldn’t get it out of my head.
My arms were wrapped around him on the bike like a bear hug. Slowly, I let one of my hands drift down to his thigh, then his crotch. His cock was a warm bulge underneath his jeans, and it quickly grew as I rubbed it through the thick denim.
He glanced over, but the helmet obscured his eyes from sight.
Within seconds he was completely hard, a rod of steel against his thigh that I stroked gently. I felt his body inhale and exhale in a long sigh on the bike as we pulled to a stop at a light.
His helmeted head turned back to me again. “I thought we agreed that keeping things professional—”
“Fuck professional,” I said, gripping his cock harder. I planted a soft kiss on the back of his neck. “This is more fun.”
“Much more fun,” he agreed, voice rumbling like the bike between our legs.
When the light changed, he accelerated rapidly, shooting us forward at an exhilarating speed. I squealed with excitement and held on tight—to both his chest and his cock. Danny’s body pulsed with laughter.
By the time we got back to my apartment, I was ready to tear his clothes off. The moment the bike came to a stop in the parking space I slid around the side of the bike to sit in his lap, grinding my pussy against his crotch.
“I can’t stop thinking about that night,” I said, letting my helmet fall to the ground. I pulled Danny’s off and let it fall too, revealing his beautiful face.
“Me neither,” he admitted, lust in his beautiful blue eyes. “You’re like a drug, and I’ve been having withdrawals.”
“Nothing wrong with a little fix every now and then.”
He grabbed my ass with both hands and held me down against his cock. I could practically feel it throbbing in his jeans. “Every now and then isn’t often enough.”
His kiss was rough and eager, like I was the drug he desperately needed. I moaned as his tongue forced its way into my mouth, wriggling the way it had inside my pussy that night after the party when he ate me out. I tongued him back, wanting desperately to feel him go down on me again, to watch his beautiful blond visage bury itself in my lady parts, to squeeze my legs around his head and never let him go.
“I want to be inside of you,” he said.
“Uh huh,” was all I could say.
We hopped off the bike, leaving the helmets laying on the ground. He took me by the hand and led me upstairs to my apartment.
But when we got to my door, we found someone waiting for us.
Or rather, for me.
29
Roberta
“Lance?” I blurted out.
The tall wide receiver was sitting in front of my door, resting against the frame with his knees bent. He stood when he saw us, stretching his back.
“There you are, Babs.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He held out two plastic containers and grinned. “I brought you soup!”
“Soup?”
“You said you weren’t feeling good. So I brought you soup. I didn’t know if you preferred chicken noodle or split pea, so I got you both.”
Shit. He’d invited me out to a party, and I’d given him an excuse. And then I’d gone out with Danny instead.
“Lance…” I began.
He glanced at Danny, then back at me. “You totally gave me an excuse, didn’t you?”
“I can explain…”
But Lance only shrugged indifferently. “I get it. You didn’t want to go out. Nothing wrong with that. But don’t be afraid to tell me so.”
I sighed with relief. “Thanks for understanding. I was in a funk earlier, and a party was the last place I wanted to go.”
“Sorry, man,” Danny said. “Didn’t realize you’d invited her out too.”
“Forget about it.” Lance hefted the soup containers. “You mind if we go inside? I’m starving. I’ve been waiting a little while.”
I led them inside. “Aly?” I called. “I’ve got company, but you have to promise not to
fangirl too much.”
Lance chuckled as he sat at our little kitchen table. “She left earlier. But not before inviting me inside for some fun.” He gave me a dire look. “Babs, your roommate is something else. She promised to do some filthy stuff to me.”
“Sounds like Aly alright. She’s still sad nothing happened the night you took her home.” I groaned. “I forgot to get wine!”
Lance grinned and reached into his backpack. He came out holding a six pack of tall cans of beer held together with a hard plastic ring. “Have no fear. I brought this for you, too.”
“Score,” Danny said, taking one and cracking it open.
“Thanks, but what I meant was I forgot to get wine for Aly. I told her I was going to grab some, but then Danny invited me out.” I paused. “Wait a minute. You thought I was sick, so you brought me beer?”
He sipped green soup off his spoon. “Well. I figured you might not be really sick, and that it was related to Feña.”
I tensed. “What about him?”
“He told me what happened,” Lance said, gesturing with the spoon. “He’s pissed at you. Says it was all your fault he kicked badly today.”
I groaned and rested my head on the table with my eyes closed.
“Did you tell him he was being stupid?” Danny asked.
“Wasn’t my place, bro,” Lance said. “He just wanted to vent to someone, so I nodded along and let him get it out.”
I heard a beer hiss open, and then the sound of metal scraping against the wooden table. “Here you go, Babs. Beer fixes most problems.”
I lifted my head off the table and took it gratefully. It was ice cold despite sitting in his backpack for as long as he’d been waiting.
“Feña is being unreasonable,” Danny said simply. “He shouldn’t be blaming Roberta for his bad day.”
Lance glanced at me. “What do you think?”
I sighed. “I think Feña’s partly justified. I did some extra research today, and DOMS is probably responsible for his trouble.”
Lance nodded grimly. “That sucks. Especially since…” He trailed off.
“What?”
Lance glanced at Danny, then back at me. “He said Coach might bench him if he has another bad day. Put in that Van Durbin kid instead.”
