by Lea Coll
His face tightened, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Everyone wants their parents’ approval.”
“I guess I didn’t realize that you felt that way.” Not when his father had never been there for him.
“Payton, you’ve known me for a couple of weeks. Let’s be realistic, you don’t know me.”
I wrung my hands, wondering if I’d made the wrong decision to confront him. “Tell me how I can help.”
“You can’t. You’re an intern.” His tone was dismissive.
“If your father is messing with your head, please don’t take any more of his calls.”
His shoulders tensed. “I can handle my father.”
I gestured at him. “It doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing. You’re barely sleeping, your tense, stressed.”
“Are you done?”
I nodded.
“I want you here if you’re going to support me. I don’t if you’re going to nag me like a coach.”
The words I don’t need you washed over me, cooling the fire in me. I slowly relaxed my muscles, starting in my shoulders. “Got it.”
“I’m headed to the stadium. I’ll see you there.”
He opened the door as if to leave and I saw our connection crumbling around us.
“Clay. I’m sorry I pushed. I was worried about you.” I touched his arm, taking a risk that he’d callously brush me off. “I care about you.”
I felt the tension in his arm ease with my words. “I care about you too.”
He leaned down to brush his lips across mine. It was something, but not enough.
“I’ll see you on the bus.”
Then he was gone. I wanted to call him back, to ask him if we were okay but I didn’t.
I stopped at home to get my bag, taking a few moments on the drive to think about what was going on with Clay. Our relationship was new, Clay was in the middle of the playoffs. It was understandable that he was under a lot of pressure.
By the time I stepped onto the bus, I was determined to give Clay a little space. The coaches were in the front, the players in the back. I sat by the window next to Coach Ruxton while he discussed the upcoming weekend with the other coaches. I knew we couldn’t act like a couple. At the same time, I wasn’t prepared for the cold reality of what it would be like to have to pretend we weren’t close.
I sat with the coaches on the plane, listening to their banter, their plans for the weekend, soaking up everything I could about their game strategies, the plans for the players to warm up, get any needed physical therapy before and after the game. I was here to learn as much as I could about being a strength and conditioning coach, not obsess over a guy.
I checked into the hotel with the other coaches, heading to my room with my bags. I ordered room service, settling in to watch TV. For the first time since I boarded the bus, I let myself feel everything, Clay’s cold dismissal when he left this morning, pretending we weren’t a couple. I let it wash over me, feeling alone.
We hadn’t discussed what the weekend would look like, whether we’d sneak into one another’s rooms, or we’d talk on the phone. I didn’t want to intrude on whatever game-weekend rituals he had. The last thing I wanted was to be a distraction.
I declined the coaches’ invitation to go to dinner with them. The coaches had an easy camaraderie I hadn’t infiltrated yet. I wasn’t sure I ever would.
I stared at the blank screen on my phone wondering if I should ask Clay to come over. I didn’t want anyone to see us together. Was it possible for me to sneak into his room or him into mine if we were careful? Was it worth the risk? All I could think about was how tightly strung he was this morning. I wanted to make sure he was okay. I wanted to do whatever I could to ease his mind, to get him to relax.
I finally typed, you want to get together tonight after dinner?
When my food arrived, I ate at the small table by the window. The longer Clay didn’t respond, the more I questioned what we’d been doing the last couple of weeks. Was I a convenient distraction for him? Or was this how he was in-season and he’d be better company when it was over?
After I cleaned up, setting the room service tray in the hallway, he responded, It’s late. Maybe tomorrow.
I bit my lip, wondering how I should answer. We were new. I didn’t want to come on too strong. I didn’t want to be a needy girlfriend if that’s what I even was.
Maybe I was an idiot for wanting to keep us a secret.
The next day, I ate breakfast at the hotel then rode the bus to the stadium so the players could practice on the field. I shadowed Coach Ruxton, paying close attention to what he said to the players. Clay didn’t acknowledge me other than a nod when he touched base with Coach Ruxton.
It shouldn’t hurt when it was what I asked for. I worried our short relationship was going to be over before it started.
When Clay walked back to the rest of the team to run a play, Coach Ruxton asked, “What’s up with you two?”
I startled, dropping my hands to my sides. “What do you mean?”
“Whatever you said to him must have helped him in the game last week. Do you think he’s going to be okay tomorrow?”
I sighed in relief that he wasn’t aware of what was actually going on between us. Then I wondered if Clay would want me talking about it. Clay knew this was my job and I owed it to the team to be honest if Coach asked. “He was worried it was physical. I think it was all in his head.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “What do you mean?”
“He didn’t admit it. I suspect he has some performance anxiety.”
“You major in psych in college?” Coach Ruxton’s tone was serious.
“No. Definitely not. I’ve seen it enough over the years to recognize it.” My gaze settled on Clay where he was warming up with the rest of the team on the field.
“Did he listen to you?”
“He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to admit there was an issue. I think he would have been happier if it was something physical.”
“Those tend to be easier to fix.”
“I told him replace the negative thoughts with positive.” And not to talk to the source of all those negative thoughts, his father.
“Hopefully it works.”
I straightened. “I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.”
Clay jogged to the sideline, grabbing a water bottle from one of the assistants, his questioning gaze resting on us. He probably wanted to know what we were talking about.
“Payton. You have good instincts. This job is part knowledge part instinct and you’ve got that in spades.” Then he walked away.
My gaze followed him, wondering if he was right. As much as I enjoyed working with the team, it was the interaction with one athlete at a time that I enjoyed most. Listening to their issues, watching video, breaking things apart until I figured out where the chink in the chain was. Maybe my dad was right. I should start a business where athletes came to me with a problem. I just had to trust my instincts.
Looking back at the field, Clay held the ball waiting for Will’s signal for the snap. This thing with Clay was great, but I had to keep my eye on the ball. I came here to figure out what I wanted in my career, not my personal life. If I became a distraction, I’d walk away from him, no matter how much it hurt.
That night, I went to dinner with Noah. When we were walking back to the hotel Clay texted, You want to come over tonight?
He’d left his room number.
“You met someone?” Noah nodded at the phone I held in my hand.
“It’s new.” I wasn’t sure how he would take that or how honest I should be with him.
He gave me a pointed look. “Don’t get into anything serious. You’re young.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “You just don’t want to think about me dating.”
He stepped into the elevator. “Not so much. I’m good without that visual in my head.”
I breathed a sigh of relief when he got off on a different floor th
an Clay’s. I wasn’t sure how I’d manage to sneak in Clay’s room if I had to worry about Noah seeing us.
Stepping onto Clay’s floor, I waited to knock until the hall was clear. I heard the ding of the elevator opening as Clay opened the door, pulling me inside.
The door closed with a click behind me. I wasn’t sure whether to hug him or wait for a signal from him. I wasn’t sure if things had changed between us or if he wanted to break things off.
Clay stood a foot away, his forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry about Friday night, yesterday. I get too much in my head when there’s a big game.”
I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “If this is going to work, you can’t push me away.”
He rubbed his chin. “You’re right. I won’t let it happen again.”
I wasn’t sure if this was our first fight or if I should let it go so easily. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I played great today.”
I didn’t want to bring up his dad. At the same time, I wanted to know if he was going to be thrown off again. “Did your dad call?”
“No.”
I bit my lip wondering if I should tell him what I was thinking. “When he left that message, it really threw you off your game. Maybe you should consider blocking him just until the playoffs are over. If he’s not a positive influence, it might be best.”
“You’re probably right. I never stopped thinking that he’d come around. That he’d see how well I was doing and admit I’d made the right decision.”
“If your dad thinks you should have gotten a degree, then nothing short of getting that degree will be enough for him.”
“You’re right. I don’t know why I hold out hope.”
I stood, wrapping my hand around his arm. “Everyone hopes their parents will support them, be proud of them. Unfortunately, we don’t always get that. We have to be proud of ourselves. We have to surround ourselves with people that believe in us.”
“I regret lashing out at you Friday night. You didn’t deserve that. I should be asking you for help, not pushing you away.”
“I wanted to help. I care about you.” I wanted to say I loved him but it wasn’t the time or place. He was focused on the game, not us.
“I care about you too. I didn’t like telling you not to come over last night. I know you want to keep this a secret. It sucks ignoring you on the bus, the airplane, the field.”
“It does. As much as I hate it, it’s for the best.”
“For now.” He turned to fully face me, his hands settling on my shoulders. He stepped into me, when the back of my legs hit the bed, I sat down.
“Lie down.”
I scooted back on the bed, watching while he undressed. It was rushed, hurried, as if he’d missed me and couldn’t wait to be with me. I wanted to think it meant something even if I couldn’t forget how he’d been after the last game. Was he truly in the moment with me or was he working out his pre- and post-game frustrations?
When he was naked, he placed one knee on the bed leaning over me.
Touching the back of his neck, the words to ask him if this was real or a diversion died on my lips as his chest pressed against mine. He kissed me with passion as if he couldn’t get enough. I let myself get lost in his kiss, his touch, his scent.
I’d take whatever he offered and worry about the future with him later. He tugged my shirt over my head, deftly unsnapping my bra, settling his mouth over my nipple. The scruff on his cheeks gently abrading my skin as he coasted down my belly, pulling my jeans and thong off as he went.
He kissed each thigh before focusing on my core. My fingers tangled in his hair as I held him to me, afraid he’d stop, that the intensity of this moment would dissipate like vapor in the air. I wanted to hold on to him for as long as I could.
The world fell away until all I felt were his fingers moving inside me, the pressure of his tongue, the scrape of his facial hair on the soft skin of my thighs. When my climax washed over me in waves, nothing had ever felt so good. He kissed his way up my body, sucking on the skin of my neck then whispering in my ear, “Do we need protection?”
“I’m clean.”
“I am too. Are you okay with nothing between us?”
I nodded, the distance of the last few days, the emptiness, loneliness, the fear and doubt dissipated. If I believed in me, him, and how good we were together, everything would be fine. There was nothing we couldn’t conquer together.
He slid inside, every ridge of his hard cock evident.
“You feel so good.”
“That’s my line.” He whispered over the shell of my ear, tingles already starting at the base of my spine, his hand tangled in my hair, the other lifted my leg to change the angle.
He hit a spot inside that had me tense and worried he’d stop, that it would fall away. “Right there.”
“You got it.” He increased his speed, thrusting until I shattered into a million pieces in his arms. He sat up on his heels, gripping my thighs, watching the spot where his cock disappeared inside of me.
I’d never felt more exposed, more open to anyone. I bit my lip, squeezing his cock with my muscles, wanting to make it as good for him as it had been for me. When he thrust the final time, he groaned my name before collapsing on top of me.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, holding him to me as tears sparked in my eyes. I’d searched my entire life for that sense of belonging that I got in his arms.
Chapter 12
Clay
The division championship game. We sat in the locker room while Coach Phillips gave us the pep talk. The one where he carefully avoided any mention of what happened my rookie year.
I hadn’t told Payton about it even though the memory was clear in my mind. With a minute left in the game, we were ahead by three. All we had to do was play conservative, get enough yards to move down the field, eating up time on the clock. On the first play of the drive, I’d snapped the ball too high. It flew over Will’s head. A defensive lineman picked it up, scoring the game-winning touchdown.
All I could do was watch it happen as my dreams shattered around me. The feeling of letting the team down was crushing. I knew Will wouldn’t want to remind me of it even though he had to be questioning my mental fortitude.
I felt like everyone’s eyes were on me, judging me.
The freedom I’d felt in Payton’s arms last night skirted around the edges of my consciousness, buoying me in moments when my mind flashed back to the moment I held on to the ball a second too long, sending it high. I’d successfully snapped the ball thousands of times since then, yet that one instance wouldn’t be erased from my memory.
This time I wanted to carry the team. I didn’t want anyone to talk about or even remember what happened last time. I didn’t want to be the highlight reel for the other team’s win all week.
The team cheered at the end of Coach Phillips’ speech like they always did before a big game. We headed out of the tunnel to the roar of the crowd. I tried to let the excitement fill me, forcing out the doubts, the memories of mistakes. It wasn’t working. As we lined up for the National Anthem, the high snap replayed in my head. When the captains took the field for the coin toss, I took the free moment to talk to Payton. I needed her.
She looked at me in confusion. “What are you doing?”
“I just—” I lowered my voice. “I need you.” Your quiet strength.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” She tilted her head.
“The biggest mistake of my life.” I sighed, the weight of my mistakes heavy.
“Are you talking about football?”
I wanted to erase the panic that crossed her face, reassuring her I was talking about me not her. “It was a game like this one. The division championship my rookie year.”
She sighed so heavily her entire body shifted with the movement. “I didn’t know. As your coach, I don’t appreciate you waiting until seconds before the game to tell me this. As something more, I get it.”
She leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. “Every time that picture enters your mind, think of me, the feeling when you’re with me. Let it fill you up, erasing everything else.”
“I hope it works.” Could it be that easy? All my life I’d only focused on football, pushing out the rest of it.
“It will. Replace the negative with positive. You can do it.” Her face was determined.
She stepped back, creating space between us, maintaining professionalism, yet her eyes were filled with emotion, longing, pride.
Coach Ruxton stepped next to me, his hand on my shoulder. “Good luck out there, Porter. Focus.”
I kept my gaze on Payton. “I will.”
I let the emotions and euphoria I felt being with Payton wash through me. Then I turned to watch the kick off. We returned the ball for a modest gain. Focused, I took the field with the offensive line. Will called the play, I scanned the defense, making adjustments, snapping the ball.
For the next couple of hours, I focused on Will, the defense, my offensive line. The negative thoughts didn’t have room to enter because when they did they were met with hope, optimism, and love. I let my feelings for Payton, her support, fill me from the inside out.
Teammates usually said women were a distraction. If so, Payton was the best one of all because she was standing between me and the negative voices.
My eyes were filled with the blue and orange uniforms of Chicago. I focused on Will’s voice over the din of the crowd, the clap of his hands. The defense was relentless making the passing game nearly impossible despite my focus and best efforts.
I blocked so that Eric and the other running backs had more room to run. It was a steady back and forth, a battle of lines. We were ahead by six with a couple of minutes left.
Will stopped me as we headed out to take the field for what would be our last possession before the clock ran out.
