The Relationship Pact: Kings of Football

by Locke, Adriana

  “Bye.”

  I end the call and slip my phone back into my pocket.

  If life was fair and things could be good, I’d like to see Larissa’s face every day. But I can’t do that to her. It wouldn’t be fair.

  I turn around to go to the hotel, but my phone buzzes in my pocket. I stop walking and pull it out, expecting a follow-up text from River.

  It’s not.

  Larissa: Hey! I have a box of Ding Dongs over here and was thinking about getting a pizza. Know anyone who would like to hang out and watch a movie or something?

  I walk again, my pace quickening. My fingers fly over the phone.

  Me: I could find you someone.

  Her response is immediate.

  Larissa: I like football players.

  Me: Shit. That narrows it down. I’m retired.

  Larissa: Well, former players can work. I’m not *that* picky.

  I can’t help myself. I smile.

  Me: Any other requirements?

  Larissa: Nice abs.

  Me: That definitely narrows down the field.

  Larissa: An amazing voice.

  Me: Eh, widens the field again.

  Larissa: IT DOES NOT.

  Me: LOL

  Larissa: Fine. I’d prefer a guy who has amazing abs, buys perfect gifts (I haven’t taken it off!), and has recent experience fucking me on a rooftop.

  Immediately, my cock gets hard, and all thoughts of River’s ridiculous theories are pushed to the wayside.

  Me: I know a guy. What time should he be there?

  Larissa: Around six-ish?

  Me: I’ll see you then.

  Larissa: Oh, so it’s you?

  Me: If anyone else meets those requirements, I’d love for them to show up.

  Larissa: See you tonight.

  I stare at her final text before pressing the button on the side of my phone.

  What can it hurt to spend a little more time with her?

  “I don’t know,” I say as I walk across the street, “but we’re about to find out.”

  Seventeen

  Larissa

  I’m weak.

  I knock the new box of Ding Dongs over, and they hit the counter with a thud.

  “The things I’ll do for a set of abs,” I mutter to myself.

  Even though I know that’s not totally true—and it’s definitely not even the start of why I texted Hollis earlier today—it’s still embarrassing because it’s rooted in truth.

  I went around and around, trying to convince myself it was okay to invite him over.

  He has nowhere else to go.

  We’re friends.

  He’s leaving town soon, so I should see him while I can.

  He might be hungry.

  That last one was the thing that put me over the edge. I could rationalize that.

  I would be a bad person if I didn’t invite him over, dammit!

  I nearly talked myself out of it after talking to Bellamy. Her advice was to invite him over, answer the door naked, and then to ask him if he was hungry.

  “I’m just being a good hostess,” I affirm. “I’m doing the Lord’s work here.”

  My laughter turns into a groan as I feel myself slipping. I’ve been fighting it—and doing a damn good job—but I’m a mortal.

  Give me a smoking-hot man who has raw edges, a kind heart, and a vulnerability that needs protected, and I’m done. I’m such a sucker.

  The doorbell rings, and I all but jog to the door.

  “Hey,” I say, pulling it open.

  My excitement vanishes.

  Standing on the other side isn’t Hollis.

  It’s Sebastian.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I came to check on you.”

  I look at him with total confusion. “For what?”

  “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “By design.”

  He looks over my shoulder and into my house. “Can I come in?”

  I step outside and pull the door shut behind me. I don’t give him the pleasure of a verbal answer.

  “Please leave,” I tell him.

  He looks offended, which is a total joke. Sebastian doesn’t get offended because he doesn’t care. While that might have bothered me at one point, it doesn’t now.

  I glance down the road.

  “You expecting someone?” he asks.

  “That’s really none of your business.”

  “I’m just trying to be friendly, Riss.”

  I roll my eyes so hard it hurts. “You don’t do friendly, Sebastian. And to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t have answered the door if I had known it was you on the other side.”

  This bruises his ego. He crosses his arms over his chest.

  “I came to ask you if you wanted to go to a New Year’s Eve party with me on Tybee Island,” he says smugly. “But if you can’t be nice, I won’t ask.”

  What the actual fuck? He has a flipping girlfriend.

  “Good. Take Catherine, your actual girlfriend. Now, leave and forget where I live, okay?”

  “Larissa …”

  He says the words like I’m an errant child, and it drives me nuts. I never realized the tone in which he talked to me until I have something else to compare it to.

  Nothing about Sebastian makes me happy. Nothing makes me feel alive or funny or even entertaining—even if it’s annoying. Standing on the porch next to a guy I spent way too much time invested in makes me sad for myself.

  “Goodbye,” I say.

  But as I turn to go back inside, an engine rumbles down the street. I don’t have to look to see who it is.

  His car sounds like him—rough and smooth and a little grumpy when he doesn’t get his way.

  My eyes find his as he steps out of the driver’s side door.

  He might not be amused, but he is mouthwatering.

  His jeans, white T-shirt with a Badgers logo on the front, and a blue-and-white flannel shirt are in stark contrast to Sebastian’s brown sweater and loafers.

  I take a step away from Sebastian for my own safety. If Sebastian says the wrong thing, I’m not sure how this is going to end.

  Hollis flips his gaze to Sebastian as he nears the porch.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Hollis bites out.

  “We’re having an adult conversation,” Sebastian says.

  My mouth hangs open. Sebastian either doesn’t read the room, or he wants to die.

  Hollis forgoes the stairs and jumps onto the porch in one swift leap. He stands close enough to Sebastian to make me a little concerned.

  “Conversation is over,” Hollis says. He works his jaw back and forth. “Head on out of here and don’t come back.”

  Sebastian laughs. “I appreciate your opinion. I truly do. But this isn’t your house.”

  “It’s mine, asshole, and I’ve already asked you to leave a couple of times,” I cut in.

  “We can do this a couple of different ways,” Hollis tells him. “You can walk out of here, or I can break your fucking legs, and you can crawl. You pick.”

  “Are you threatening me?” Sebastian asks.

  “Definitely.”

  Sebastian tries to posture up against Hollis but quickly realizes that’s not a good idea. He looks at me with a pitied look.

  “This is what you want?” Sebastian looks at Hollis like the gum on the bottom of his shoe. “This piece of fraternity trash?”

  I look at Hollis. He’s watching me.

  There’s a doubt in his eyes as though he’s not sure what I’m going to say.

  In a matter of seconds, my emotions toward this man overwhelm me.

  How can he be so alpha protective one moment yet unsure of himself the next?

  I reach for his hand, and he gives it to me without hesitation. I pull myself against Hollis and rest my head against his chest. He wraps his arm around my side and holds me tight.

  This isn’t for show. He’s not doing this to p
iss of Sebastian. His actions are too genuine, too authentic to be anything other than a concern for me.

  “Yeah,” I tell Sebastian. “This is my guy. He is exactly who I want.”

  Sebastian blows out a puff of air as he takes the steps hastily to the sidewalk. He’s in his car in flash.

  We watch him drive away before we move a muscle.

  “You know what’s sad?” Hollis says.

  I look up at him. “No. What?”

  “Someone is gonna crack that motherfucker one of these days, and it’s probably not going to get to be me.”

  I shake my head and extract myself from him. I ignore his cheeky grin as we walk back inside the house.

  Garlic and oregano perfume the air as we enter the kitchen. I start toward the stove but am stopped by a large hand twirling me around.

  Surprised, I go off-balance, but Hollis catches me in his arms. He’s grinning a wide, cheek-splitting smile.

  “Did you mean that?” he asks. “Or were you just fucking with him?”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Huh?”

  “Did you mean it? Did you mean it when you told Sebastian that I’m your guy?”

  I return his smile. “I honestly just said it. I didn’t think about it.”

  He attempts to bite back his smile, but he fails miserably. Even if he could have hidden it from me, he couldn’t deny the shine in his eye.

  I don’t know what to call it.

  Is he proud that I called him that? Does it make him happy? Does he find it ridiculous and think it’s a part of the faux-mance we put on for Sebastian the first time?

  I don’t know.

  But what I do know is that I would give anything to see this look on his face more often. Daily.

  I shiver.

  He leans forward and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to my lips. And then he lets me go.

  “Hey!” I say, disappointed there wasn’t more.

  He laughs and swats my behind. “I gave you a little attention, but you distracted me with pizza. I smell it.”

  “So?”

  “So feed me, and then maybe I’ll give you a little more.”

  “Fine.”

  I head to the oven and take out the pizza. I get it cut and on plates while Hollis fumbles through the cabinets looking for glasses. I don’t offer to cut in and tell him where they are because I quite like it that he’s comfortable enough just to look himself.

  “I need to go to the store, so I think our drink options are water and grape juice,” I tell him.

  “I drink water anyway.”

  “Really? You don’t drink Coke?”

  He shakes his head. “Coach had us on a strict diet regimen. It was tailored to each one of us. Pop was something I had to cut so I could keep my Ding Dongs.”

  I had him a plate. “I’m glad you kept your Ding Dong.”

  He snorts and takes the pizza from me. “Why was Sebastian here?”

  I shrug as we make our way into the living room. “Who knows? Probably just to screw with me. He likes thinking he has power over people, you know? He shows up here and I remember how much I miss him …” I roll my eyes as we sit on the couch. “His excuse was to invite me to Tybee for New Year’s Eve. Can you believe that?”

  “Yeah, I can. He’s a dick.”

  “I agree.” I start to take a bite of the pizza, but it’s too hot. “Do you have any ex-girlfriends like that?”

  He leans back on the couch. “Nah. I don’t really have girlfriends.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugs.

  “May I ask why you don’t, or is that going to get me a redirection?” I tease.

  He half-smiles as he contemplates my request. I’m surprised he doesn’t just redirect me without answering.

  Progress.

  “The truth?” he asks. “I can’t be trusted to take care of another human. I’d be afraid to get a fucking dog.”

  “But you’d want a dog, right?”

  “I’d love a dog. A black lab, actually. But I’d forget to feed it. I forget to feed myself half of the fucking time.”

  I grin. “You do realize that you’d be dating another human being that can feed herself, right?”

  He knocks my knee with his. “You know what I mean.”

  I do. I know what he means. And I think I know a little more than that.

  Pushing him on this is risky, but he’s so cooperative and he responded so well—surprisingly well—to being my guy. So maybe I risk it …

  “You know what I think?” I ask.

  “I think you’re going to tell me.”

  “I think, silly boy, that you have trust issues.”

  He makes a face like I’m stupid and reaches for his pizza. Steam still rises from it in steady puffs, but he fills his mouth anyway.

  “I think,” I continue, picking my words carefully, “that you think that you can only trust your friends. I can’t remember their names. Sorry.”

  “River and Crew.”

  “Yes. Them.”

  I turn on the couch so I’m facing him. I hesitate, drawing one knee to my chest.

  He continues to chew, but he doesn’t look away, and I have to wonder if he wants me to press him. If not, wouldn’t he change the subject?

  “I think you sell yourself short,” I tell him.

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really,” I say, smiling at him. I think back to what he’s said about his mom and Philip and Kim. “I think … I think you think that people always give up on you.”

  His eyes go wary. “That’s a lot of thinking.”

  “It is, huh?”

  Holding my breath, I wait for him to respond. He sets his plate down and grabs his glass of water. He takes an intentionally long drink.

  He swallows and sets the glass next to the plate.

  “You wanna know what I think?” he asks.

  Suddenly, I’m nervous.

  “No,” I say.

  “Ah, the pretty girl doesn’t like it when the script is turned on her, does she?” He settles against the couch. “It’s not fun, huh?”

  I shake my head and wonder where he’s going with this. “No, but I respect that you want to get to know me better.”

  He makes a face. “I already know this. I’m telling you.”

  “Oh.”

  He laughs. “I think you pick guys that you think won’t work out, so you don’t have to settle down.”

  “What? You’re crazy,” I say. “You’re wrong. So wrong.”

  He doesn’t laugh. He just sits still and watches me.

  I squirm under his gaze. “What?”

  “Am I wrong?”

  “Yes. You’re wrong.”

  He shrugs.

  His refusal to elaborate is killing me.

  That’s not what I do. Not at all.

  He’s crazy.

  “One of us is good at this and that one of us isn’t you,” I say, picking up my plate.

  “Why else would a smart woman like you pick someone like Sebastian? Or me,” he adds. “It doesn’t make sense. The only thing it can be is that you know both of us are fuck-ups. You’ll have an out if you want it. You just have to wait for it.”

  “Or,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat, “I pick a certain type of guy and it’s not a good match for me. I can’t help what I’m attracted to.”

  He takes my plate out of my hands and sets it on the table.

  “I wasn’t done,” I tell him.

  When he faces me again, he’s grinning. “Did you just admit you’re attracted to me?”

  “Well, like that’s new news.”

  He’s satisfied. “I really like this you today. I just want to make that clear.”

  I lean back on the couch and gaze up at him. “I really like the playful you today. Just to be clear.”

  “We better figure out what put us in such a good mood.”

  “Oh, I already know what it was,” I tease.

  He quirks a brow. “You do?”


  “Uh-huh. It was all the … talking.”

  His face falls. “I thought it was the sex.”

  “Close second.”

  “Damn.”

  His eyes hood as he takes me in. He stands up and hovers over me.

  “There is one thing you could do to make the sex be number one,” I tell him.

  “What’s that?”

  “Show me those abs, baby.”

  He bursts out laughing. Animation sweeps across his face, and it makes me laugh too.

  “If you insist …” He shrugs off his flannel.

  And then, inch by inch in a Magic Mike-esque move, he peels his T-shirt off in the slowest way possible.

  With each inch it rises up his tanned midsection, a new block of muscle is exposed. The lines are defined and appear to have been crafted by the hand of God. The muscles lining his side are just as clear, and the higher up his shirt goes, the broader his body gets.

  My eyes widen, and I let them. I don’t even pretend not to be impressed. Downplaying something that was clearly chiseled by an angel seems like a disgrace.

  Finally, the shirt comes all the way off, and he throws it at my face.

  I giggle. “Wow. That’s worth the wait.”

  He flexes, making me giggle louder.

  “Can I touch it?” I ask. “Or, better yet, can I lick it?”

  “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that—ah!”

  He sweeps me up in his arms in one quick move. I throw an arm around his shoulder to steady myself and nearly melt when my fingertips sweep the edge of his muscled shoulder.

  “You can touch me or lick me—whatever you want,” he says, carrying me toward my bedroom. “But only if I can lick you first.”

  I look into his relaxed, playful eyes and grin. “Deal.”

  Eighteen

  Hollis

  Me: Miss me?

  I set my phone on my stomach and grab the remote. I flip through the channels as I wait for Crew or River to respond.

  There’s a show about a guy hunting for a monster in a river. A lot of shows about cooking, which I could probably get into, but Judy’s box of snacks is long gone. The most interesting thing is an old Western movie that has such poor audio that I can’t get into it. But I need to get into something because my brain won’t stop thinking.