Keeping Score: A Sports Romance

by Dee Lagasse

  Any chance of him building a relationship with me was gone when he took it upon himself to fabricate a story about my mom keeping me from him and how devastated he was that he missed out on my childhood.

  Strike Three.

  The media ate that shit up like candy. My agent and his team handled most of the backlash and strongly encouraged me to let it just “blow over.” I couldn’t, though.

  Stefano gave me nothing. Not even his time. I owed him nothing. My mother deserved all the recognition. Roger Coleman earned the right to be acknowledged for stepping into shoes he never asked to wear.

  So, I told the truth. Including the story of how Coach Coleman took me shopping for my first press conference outfit. Seventeen-year-old Jake thought a tie wasn’t necessary; Coach insisted. I never forgot the advice he gave me that afternoon.

  In fact, it was that very advice that played back in my head as I decided what to wear today.

  “Mornin’, Jake.”

  The way my heart began to race at Isa’s smile brought me back to standing on her parents’ front porch before our junior prom. Coach had been so relieved when he found out we were going together. I had friend-zoned myself to the point that even her overprotective father wasn’t fazed by my presence anymore.

  But even though Coach Coleman wasn’t worried about his precious—and only—daughter being out with me…I was.

  I was forever worrying I’d slip up, cross the line, and ruin everything. That was never an option. Our friendship meant too much to me. Isa meant too much to me.

  Her parents insisted on paying for everything—the stretch Hummer we all rode in, the pre-prom photographer, even my tuxedo. My mom had been so worried about looking like she was accepting charity. It only took one lunch with Alma Coleman for her to realize the Colemans were simply good people.

  “Are you going to come in?” Isa laughed as she stepped back from the doorway.

  “Yeah, sorry.” I chuckled. “I was just thinking about junior prom and the summer after it.”

  Her eyebrows raised in wonder, but she didn’t say anything as she led me to the bright, open kitchen.

  I tried my damnedest to keep my eyes up. I really did. But as her hips sashayed back and forth, the desire to be a gentleman quickly dissipated. Instead, I found myself wishing I were in a position to grab her ass.

  When we were younger, I decided Isa had the perfect butt. I wasn’t disappointed to see it held true to this day.

  As we entered the kitchen, my stomach tightened.

  “Look, Finn,” Salem said, smiling brightly, “Mr. Jake brought you flowers!”

  “I sure did.” I grinned in return when the little redhead by her side eyed me warily.

  The flowers were bought with Salem in mind, but I went along with it. I knew a setup when I saw one. It was also why I agreed to brunch today. Salem was up to something. I wasn’t sure what, but I wanted to find out. Curiosity killed the cat, after all.

  “I was just telling Finn that it’s totally cool for girls to play with trucks,” she said before her smile turned into a tight line. “We had a moment in school yesterday. So, it’s kind of perfect you brought these flowers for him, Mr. Jake.”

  “Red’s my favorite color!” Finn noted as he looked at the autumn bouquet. The vibrant red roses stuck out in the midst of the yellows and oranges of the other flowers. “Fanks, Mr. Jake.”

  “Sure, little man,” I replied, smirking at him.

  Salem opened the fridge, reached in, and then handed a sippy cup full of milk to Finn. Facing Isa, she continued. “Why don’t you get Jake something to drink and then meet us in the dining room?” She didn’t wait for a response before she turned to Finn. “You ready for some pancakes, bubs?”

  Isa’s eyes narrowed in warning. It wasn’t about getting me a drink. There was a hidden message laced in Salem’s words. One I couldn’t easily find. Then again, the two of them always had entire conversations I never seemed to be a part of.

  Which was how I knew they were no longer talking about a drink at all when Isa said, “Sure thing, Salem. I’ll get right on that.”

  Salem’s eyes sparkled, her lips turning up as she looked at the two of us. “Oh, I’m sure you will.”

  Isa

  I was going to fucking kill her.

  Twenty years of friendship were about to end in homicide because Salem just couldn’t help but stir the damn pot.

  I made the mistake of coming early—giving my best friend just enough time to figure out I was harboring something for Jake. What exactly that was, I still wasn’t sure of myself. That didn’t stop Salem, though.

  “You know I’ve always been Team Jasa.”

  “Team Jasa?” I repeated. “What the hell is a Jasa?”

  “You and Jake—Jake. And. Isa—Jasa.”

  “Orange juice?” I asked, not bothering with any of the other options in Salem’s fridge. “There’s a gallon of extra pulp.”

  While most people didn’t seem to prefer orange juice with the pulp—never mind extra pulp—everyone in my family loved it.

  Shortly after he’d started coming by for dinners, Jake started going out of his way to stop by the house to walk with me to school in the mornings.

  After a couple of weeks, my mother insisted he come eat breakfast with us. Most mornings, it was simple—cereal, toaster pastries, frozen waffles, a granola bar on the go—but every Monday, my mom went crazy.

  My dad always said there was no way anyone could have a bad week after having one of Mama’s breakfasts.

  Huevos, rancheros, beans, chorizo, salsa, handmade tortillas, green or red chilaquiles… she chose the options depending on her particular mood, but the one thing that stayed the same was that Javier and I would both have a big glass of cold orange juice. Mom apologized for what felt like a hundred times when she realized Jake probably wouldn’t drink the orange juice, but he took a glass anyway.

  As it turned out, he loved it. He couldn’t stop reveling in how much better it was than the pulp-free orange juice he’d been drinking his entire life. Before we left for school, he drank three full glasses. After that, my mom always made sure to have extra orange juice for our Monday breakfasts.

  Since then, I thought of him every single time I had a glass of orange juice.

  It was something so insignificant. So small.

  But, there were a million more little memories like that as far as Jake was concerned.

  “Please.” His smile was small. Unsure.

  Shit. Should I have offered him something else? What if he didn’t like orange juice anymore and he was just being polite?

  “So…” Jake shifted his body as his eyes found mine. “I know it’s last minute, but with the season starting soon, my life is about to get crazy. Any chance you’re free tomorrow after four? I can make dinner?”

  “You cook?” I teased as I grabbed the container of orange juice from the fridge.

  “Okay, fine, I’ll probably order something,” he admitted, laughing. “What do you say, Bug?”

  Jake

  I wasn’t sure where those words came from.

  I certainly didn’t walk through Salem’s front door thinking I would ask Isa to come to my house. For dinner. Like, a date.

  Shit. Should I clarify that it wouldn’t be a date? I mean, unless she wanted it to be. No, Jake. Not a date. Chill out, man.

  “How about five?” Isa handed me the glass of orange juice, looking at me expectantly as she awaited my answer. “Does that work?”

  “Five is perfect,” I told her as I took the glass from her hand. It would give me enough time to get my workout out of the way, shower, and plan something for dinner.

  I lowered my voice before I said, “Do you think it would be lame if I invited Salem and Finn to training camp tomorrow? There will be family-friendly activities all over…well, you know.”

  Isa practically grew up in that stadium. She was too little to remember her dad playing, but as soon as she discovered her love for football, Coac
h Coleman took her to every single Bluecoats home game.

  She knew her shit, too. She could call plays better than most of the refs and talk player stats all day long. She knew just as much about the game as I did. Maybe even a bit more. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with her.

  “Only if you don’t invite me too.” She shrugged nonchalantly. The hopeful sparkle in her eyes conflicted with the standoffish stance she tried to play off. “I know that’s a lot of me for one day, but selfishly, I really wanna go.”

  “You want to come to training camp?” I questioned. I’m not sure why the notion surprised me. It shouldn’t. “I was given tent passes for tomorrow’s camp. So, you wouldn’t have to sit in the sun, and you’d have access to the bathrooms in the field house.”

  Training camp was open to the general public. There were a few tents off to the side for players’ families and “distinguished guests”—which basically meant whatever celebrities decided to pop by for the day. Despite the fact that I insisted I didn’t need any, ten passes were left for me on my locker shelf anyway.

  Matt’s messy handwriting across the envelope read, “Welcome home, Pierce!”

  I left practice that day and went right to the Colemans’ house. I left three passes with Coach Coleman, Mama Alma, and Abuela. Yesterday, when I saw Javier, I gave him two passes, for him and Adam.

  “Of course, I want to go.” With that, she rolled her eyes dramatically.

  “Well, you’ll be in good company. Abuela, your parents, Javi, and Adam are all going too.” The thought of having all the Colemans on the field, even just for training camp, left me with the most content feeling. It was like the universe finally settled as it should, that things were finally all aligned. “Oh, speaking of Abuela…I’m going to need your help with her gift.”

  “Are you going on Saturday? I assumed with camp starting you wouldn’t make it.”

  “Camp ends at one. I’ll leave the stadium by three. That gives me plenty of time to shower and make it to your parents’ house by seven,” I rattled off. “There just won’t be too much eating or drinking.”

  “Well, we should probably head into the dining room before Salem comes out and insinuates that we were—never mind.” Her cheeks flushed as she stopped herself from completing her sentence. “We should just go in there.”

  Oh, helllllllllllllllll no.

  “Nope. No way. Finish it, Isabel.” I laughed softly, and Isa’s face scrunched in confusion when I called her by her full name. “What would Salem insinuate?”

  Much like when she called me Jacob, I only used her full name when situations held a certain…je ne sais quoi.

  Like right now, for example, when I needed her to tell me what her best friend would insinuate. By the looks of Isa’s pink rosy cheeks and her inability to look me in the eye, there wasn’t a single doubt in my mind it was something sexual.

  Six years ago, I would have let it go. Younger Jake would’ve just dropped it if the conversation started to head toward that unknown territory. But if nothing else, the last six years without Isa taught me there was no better time like the present. Time waited for no one.

  And sure enough, Isa mumbled something about ‘sex’ and ‘ridiculous.’ Her thumb picked at the cuticle of one of the nails on her other hand as she swallowed.

  “I’m sorry, what was that? You’re going to have to speak up, Isa. I can’t hear you.”

  “You’re such an ass, Jacob Pierce.” The glare in her eyes when she finally looked at me was the cutest thing I’d seen in my whole life. “You know damn well what I said.”

  “Fine. You’re right.” I grinned, leaning in as if I were about to tell her a secret. “I know what you said—what you meant—but, just for the record, I don’t think the idea is ridiculous.”

  Isa

  Without another word, or time for me to offer a rebuttal, Jake left me in the kitchen. Not that I would have had much to say, anyway.

  What did he mean that he didn’t think it was ridiculous?

  Did he just imply that he wanted to have sex with me?

  Holy shit. He did. He definitely did.

  Because the conversation Salem had not so covertly referenced was the one we were mid-having as Jake showed up. The one where she was trying to convince me to “at the very least, find out if he fucks with as much intensity as he plays football.”

  After regaining control of my senses, I joined everyone in the dining room.

  The only one that seemed to notice me was Finn—a syrup-covered toddler. In the few minutes it took for me to get my shit together, Salem and Jake had managed to start an intense conversation about the potential of a Super Bowl repeat in the upcoming season.

  “Wook, Tia.” Finn grinned as he pointed at the plate full of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs in front of him. “Momma made me special Mickey Mouse pancakes!”

  I smiled back at him before answering how cool that was. I was the closest thing Finn had to an aunt. When Salem’s parents retired, they bought an RV—and they’d been traveling across the country since. Without any siblings or cousins nearby, my family was her family.

  Salem’s dad came back to visit and check on the house every few months. Whenever he did, he’d always insisted that Salem go out. So, in between those visits, it was often me or even my mom that got a phone call, asking if we could watch Finn so Salem could run errands or go to doctor’s appointments.

  There was never a time we said no. We saw how hard it was for Salem. Finn’s dad wasn’t in the picture. She was raising this little boy all on her own. And she never complained. Not once.

  We loved Finn, but it was Salem’s sheer lack of expectation that made our family want to help her. There was never a time she didn’t offer to pay us for babysitting. Of course, we always refused her money.

  “Para eso estamos,” my mom would tell her after getting the chance to spoil Finn for the day—meaning that was just what family did. “We love you and our Finn.”

  Salem was my best friend, but my parents would move heaven and earth for both her and Finn. My mom usually cooked with Manteca, but once we found out Finn had a peanut allergy, she made sure to keep sunflower seed butter in the house just for him. They had toys at their house for him and floaties for the pool. My dad was the one that took time off from work when Salem needed emergency gallbladder surgery when Finn was just seven months old.

  Things like that earned them their “Abuela” and “Papa” titles before Finn was even a year old. Abuela was absolutely thrilled to be promoted to Bisabuela. Maybe we didn’t all share the same bloodline, but we were family.

  “That settles it then,” Jake said from across the table.

  As our eyes connected, the intensity of our locked stare sent a shiver down my back. The small shudder of my body was just enough to blow any cover I may have had. The illusion that Jake wasn’t affecting me was diminished in two seconds flat.

  At that, Jake’s lips turned upward into a knowing smirk.

  Right before he broke the connection, he winked at me.

  The motherfucker winked at me.

  We were in trouble.

  I was in trouble.

  Jake

  Old habits definitely died hard.

  As I turned to face Salem, Isa’s stare felt like fire dancing on my skin.

  I knew how to get under hers—how to get into her head—and I used that to my advantage in the kitchen.

  Isa needed resolve. Leaving the room without explaining myself was strategically intentional. I wanted her to think about it. I wanted her to obsess over what I meant until it festered enough in her head that she couldn’t contain it anymore.

  Because then, she’d bring it up again.

  It was childish. I’d admit that. I could have stayed in the room. We should have finished the conversation. There was something self-satisfying in knowing I was getting to her, though.

  Watching her squirm in her seat and the growing flush in her cheeks when I winked at her only fed the fla
me.

  Focus, Jake. There’s plenty of time to harbor mixed emotions when it comes to Isa. Now is not the time or place.

  When she moaned in satisfaction after taking a bite of a cinnamon coffee cake, I knew that focusing was out of the question.

  “Salem…” she started. Her chest rose and fell as she sighed in satisfaction. “This coffee cake is delicious.”

  Salem thanked her and continued on about the process of making the perfect cinnamon swirl, all the while simultaneously breaking up more bacon for Finn.

  I shifted in my seat, still watching Isa and trying my damnedest to ignore the twitch in my cock. Just like that, for the first time in my life, I was jealous of an inanimate object. Of food, nonetheless. If coffee cake could do that to her, I could only imagine what sounds might leave her lips in the throes of an orgasm.

  My new life goal was to find out.

  “You okay, Jake?” Salem asked.

  “Oh, yeah.” I grinned. “Just thinking about something ridiculous.” I zoned in on Isa and she nearly choked when her eyes widened.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Salem shake her head. “Okay, I’m definitely missing something. Someone better tell me what’s going on.”

  “Absolutely not,” Isa shot down quickly. Her eyes narrowed in my direction as if to warn me to keep my mouth shut.

  Salem leaned in closer to me. “Come on. We can pretend to clean up while you tell me all the things Isa doesn’t want me to know!” Turning to Finn, she smiled. “Tia will stay here with you while Mr. Jake and I start bringing the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Why don’t you tell her allll about Paw Patrol? I’m sure Tia would love to hear about Chase and Everest!”

  “And Marshall!” Finn added happily.

  “Yes,” Salem agreed, as she stacked plates on top of each other. “Especially Marshall!”

  I’d forgotten how much I missed this—being in their company.