The Relationship Pact: Kings of Football

by Locke, Adriana

  “I think you think that no one would ever stick out the hard times with you. That you’d never be the first pick.”

  The girl has my number. How? I don’t know. But it sure feels like she and River are on the same page.

  That’s scary.

  “What is it with everyone on my ass about this right now?” I ask aloud. “And why is no one texting me back?”

  I hop to the floor and press out a few push-ups. The movement helps move things through my head.

  They’re both right in that I think—that I know—that people don’t stick around when shit gets hard. But they’re both wrong in that they think it’s something I can fix.

  It’s a flaw in the system of my life. I didn’t design it this way.

  When your mom quits on you, there’s a deeper problem than what an attitude adjustment can fix.

  Would I like for it to be untrue? Abso-fucking-lutely. I wish I was a normal person like River or Crew or Larissa and could just decide, Yeah, I’m gonna flip this switch and live a normal happy life with people who adore me. But that just doesn’t work in my world.

  My phone buzzes, and I scramble to my feet.

  Crew: Not yet. How are you?

  Me: Good, actually.

  Crew: Wow. Did you pop a little kid’s balloon or something?

  Me: You know, I’ve forgotten how NOT funny you really are.

  Crew: I’m just kidding. What’s going on? Big plans for New Year’s Eve?

  When I planned on coming here and just hanging out until the Catching-A-Cares banquet, I figured I’d spend the holiday in this room alone. And while that might be true at this moment, it’s not going to be true tonight. Larissa gave me no out. She demanded I accompany her to this party, telling me I’d already told Boone I would go—which I believe isn’t true.

  Oh, well. I would’ve gone without her bringing Boone into it.

  The party at Larissa’s aunt’s house is apparently a big fucking deal. She was going on and on about it when I left her house this morning. But, hey—at least she wasn’t asking me questions for once.

  Me: I do, actually. I’m going to a party.

  Crew: Good for you, man.

  Me: What are you up to?”

  Crew: Recuperating. Making life choices. The fun stuff.

  Me: Ouch.

  Crew: Did you make any decisions about things?

  Me: No.

  I think about leaving in a couple of days.

  It’s not the leaving part that bothers me. It’s what it entails.

  I love campus life. I always have. It’s like the big family I never had. There’s always something going on and someone around to do something with.

  Wanna act like a complete idiot? There’s a person. Need a workout buddy? No problem. Looking for a guy who has your homework paper done a week early? Someone knows someone—don’t panic.

  But the thought of going back to campus doesn’t sit right in my stomach. I have to do it. When I took the scholarship, I promised Coach that I would graduate with a diploma, and I’ll be damned if I don’t honor that agreement. Besides, all those classes for four years should get me something.

  I’m good with going back. I just wish I wasn’t so far away from here.

  Which is fucking stupid.

  Me: How are you doing about Pops? You okay?

  Crew: Yeah. I mean, I’m making it. Talk to River today?

  Me: No. You?

  Crew: Not yet. I’m going to try to call him later.

  Me: Cool.

  I glance at the clock.

  Me: If I don’t talk to you, Happy New Year, Hollywood.

  Crew: Back at ya, Hollis.

  I lock my screen and get to my feet.

  My suitcase is on the other queen-sized bed in my room. I sort through what I brought to figure out what to wear to Larissa’s aunt’s house. It’s mostly a bunch of T-shirts and flannels, but I do spot a black button-up shirt.

  I pull it out. It’s not too wrinkled, and there’s an iron I saw by the door that I could use to fix it up.

  I second-guess my choice and look back at my clothes.

  Shit.

  I reach for my phone and find Larissa’s number.

  “Hey,” she answers immediately. Her voice is bright and cherry. “What’s happening, handsome?”

  I look at myself in the mirror and laugh.

  I’m such a tool.

  “Nothing,” I say, shaking my head at how stupid I’m acting. “I have a question.”

  “Finally!”

  I snort.

  She laughs. “I’ve been waiting for this moment. Go for it.”

  “Can I wear jeans to this thing?”

  She bursts out laughing. “Clearly, you haven’t seen your ass in jeans, or you wouldn’t be asking me this question.”

  Her flattery feels good, which is weird because it’s usually unwanted. But, coming from her, it feels like it means something. It feels … honest.

  “So that’s a yes?” I ask.

  “Yes. You can come in anything you want, and it’ll be fine. I promise.”

  I walk to the window.

  I haven’t seen her since I left her house this morning and I both love and hate the way I feel about it. She had to go help put the finishing touches on the party, which I understand. But I’m bored.

  And I miss her.

  That does not bode well for me, I know.

  But instead of focusing on that, I’m trying to roll with it. Enjoy it. Enjoy her.

  “Did everything go okay today at your aunt’s?” I ask

  “I just got home to get ready.”

  “Should it take you long?”

  “No. I picked everything out this morning after you left.”

  I grin. “What do you have to do? Shower and get dressed?”

  The thought of her naked and wet sets my blood aflame. I adjust my cock, groaning at the contact.

  “Yeah. It shouldn’t take me long,” she says.

  I glance at the clock again and do some quick math.

  “What time do you have to be there?” I ask her.

  “Let’s see, it’s six now,” she says. “Everyone will show up around eight or eight thirty, I bet. As long as I’m there by nine, it’ll be fine. What time are you planning on going?”

  I grab jeans, shirt, and keys and head for the door. “Right now.”

  “Already?”

  “Look,” I say, opening the hotel room door and walking into the hallway, “if you’re planning on being in the shower and I’m just here by myself—”

  “I’ll go unlock the door.”

  I laugh. “That’s my girl.”

  And I might just mean that. Maybe.

  Nineteen

  Hollis

  “I hate wet hair,” Larissa says as she climbs into bed next to me.

  I slide an arm under her and pull her into my body. She curls up next to me and smiles against my chest.

  “Wet anything on you is good, beautiful,” I tell her.

  She hums against me as her eyes flutter closed.

  I settle back into her pillows and close my eyes too.

  I could get used to this.

  The words rattle through my brain.

  My eyes open, and I feel the burst of energy that always comes when I get too comfortable in a situation. I learned in a football lecture once that the shock of energy is my Fight or Flight instinct. It happens when you feel like your life might be in danger.

  I catch my breath before it gets out of control and settle myself.

  You are fine. You are good.

  I look down at Riss.

  You are more than good.

  I run my fingers through her hair. She’s so attractive. But the thing I see when I look at her isn’t her beauty at first. It’s the aura around her, the genuineness that exudes out of her pores. It’s her bright smile and the way she reaches for me like she wants to be as close as she can to me.

  Like now.

  A warmth spreads
through my body, and I pull her closer.

  This whole thing blindsided me. When I came here, I expected to spend my days sitting on the beach or checking out the tourist traps. Never in a million years did I expect to be lying in a woman’s bed.

  And acknowledging that I don’t want to leave.

  I sigh, closing my eyes and trying to slow myself down.

  This thing between us happened so fast—like a tornado in the summer.

  Could this thing actually work out between us?

  I want to laugh at myself—at the possibility that Larissa Mason would want anything to do with me for an extended time. Why would she?

  But the way she feels in my arms and the way she looks at me gives me a little … hope.

  I don’t even know if it’s safe to hope. Every time I’ve wished for something, it bit me in the ass. The last time I almost believed that things were going to work out, I watched Philip and Kim’s car pull down the street without me.

  Maybe this could be different? Maybe my luck has somehow changed? Perhaps I’m not the same person I was, and my past won’t follow me now.

  “What are you thinking about?” she whispers sleepily.

  It’s like she can read my mind.

  “That shower sex is the best sex with you. Not that I don’t love it all,” I tell her. “But I really loved it in there.”

  She grins. “I liked the rooftop sex.”

  “Did you now?”

  “Yeah. There’s something about the first time that’s special.”

  I open my mouth to tell her that I can see her point when I realize—she might have first times with other men at some point. If I leave and this doesn’t work out, then she definitely will.

  I want to climb out of my skin at the thought. The sensation of needing to move sweeps over me again but, this time, I oblige it.

  Rolling her over onto her back—ignoring her protest—I position myself so that I’m hovering over her.

  She looks up at me like I’m some kind of saint.

  Sweet, confused girl.

  I smile. “How about we try out after-shower sex and see where it ranks?”

  Her knees fall to the side as she raises her hips. “Good idea.”

  I start to move towards her but stop.

  “I don’t have a condom,” I say. “Shit.”

  She nibbles her bottom lip. “I’m on the pill. Actually, I have the shot and it’s good for a very long time.”

  “I’m clean. I have physicals constantly, and I always use protection.” I swallow hard. “Like, always. This kind of freaks me out.”

  “Then don’t do it.”

  I look into her eyes and feel something stir inside me. It’s not a need to get off or to prove my prowess.

  I just want to be close to her.

  “You okay with it?” I ask her.

  She grins shyly. “Yes.”

  Instead of sinking into her, I kiss her. It takes her by surprise. Hell, it does me too.

  She grips the sides of my face and kisses me gently. Her lips work on mine, telling them a story that I can’t quite make out.

  I slip my cock between her legs and press into her soft body. She moans into my mouth.

  Her hands slip down my chest, around my sides, and to my back. Her hips rock as she pushes on me to go harder.

  I’m all for going hard. I love it hard with her. I can’t get enough of feeling Larissa want me like that.

  But there’s something about this moment that makes me want something different.

  Something probably insane.

  Something I’ve never wanted before.

  “Hey,” I say, breaking our kiss.

  She looks up at me.

  “Can we take this one slow?” I ask her, a little unsure what I mean.

  Her features soften, and her smile stretches across her face. “Yeah.”

  She locks her legs around my ass and pulls my face to hers again.

  We kiss more than we fuck. We touch more than we come. We laugh and tickle and take our time.

  I’m not sure what to call this, but it isn’t fucking. It isn’t sex. But it is the best.

  Because it’s with her.

  Twenty

  Hollis

  “Who is going to be here again?” I ask.

  Larissa looks at me from the passenger’s seat. She has the mirror pulled down from the visor and a tube of lipstick in her hand.

  “Everyone,” she answers.

  I hold a hand out and look at her like she’s crazy. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “It means,” she says, running the tube around her lips, “that everyone I know will be here. Okay. Maybe not everyone.” She smacks her lips together and folds the mirror back up. “But most of them.”

  I lean back in my seat and try to rationalize how many people that might be. It might be a few hundred if everyone brings someone and you count the stragglers sneaking in for free beer on campus.

  “Give me a quick rundown,” I tell her.

  She shoves her lipstick in her purse and settles back in her seat. “Okay. Well, Aunt Siggy and Uncle Rodney. My dad. Siggy and Rodney’s kids—Holt, Oliver, Wade, Coy, and Boone.”

  “Holy shit, that’s a lot of kids.”

  “It’s just five.”

  I balk. “That’s a lot of kids, Riss.”

  She smiles at me. “How many kids do you want?”

  “Zero.”

  “Hollis!”

  “What?” I ask, leaning away from her. “They seem like a pain in the ass.”

  Kids have never been on my radar. I stay fully-wrapped up during sex and have walked out of situations that seem sketchy. A sketchy chick cannot be hot enough to risk getting pregnant.

  I do not want kids.

  But I can see Larissa as a mother and that fucks with me a little bit on a level I don’t want to indulge at the moment.

  “Well, I want like six,” she says, staring ahead.

  She says it very matter-of-factly, but a hint of something in her voice has me reaching across the console and grabbing her thigh. I squeeze gently, applying just enough pressure that has her smacking my hand.

  She doesn’t push it away. But she doesn’t look at me either.

  “Tell me about your cousins,” I say to keep her interacting with me. “Do I need to watch out for any of them?”

  A grin ghosts her lips. “Holt and Oliver run a real estate investment company. Holt is my buddy. He’s the one I go to when I need help convincing my parents of something. Oliver is … Oliver.” She laughs. “He’s more of a jokester but still super smart. He’s a good mix of them all, I think.”

  That all sounds doable.

  “Wade is serious. He’s an architect. He just works … and that’s it. He has no life. Boone is the wild one. You met him.”

  I nod.

  “He’s my best friend, besides Bellamy. It used to be me, Bells, Boone, and Coy, but then …” She holds her hands out. “Whatever. I don’t know. But I’m close with Boone. Coy is off touring the world most of the time now so we don’t see him as much. I’m excited he’ll be here tonight, though. He flew in just for the night.”

  I furrow my brow. “Is he military or something?”

  She bursts out laughing.

  “I … Is something funny?” I ask.

  “Hollis.” She says my name as a complete sentence. “Coy is Kelvin McCoy.”

  I snap my face to her. “The country music guy?”

  She nods with a look of amusement on her face.

  “Wait. Your cousin is Kelvin McCoy. No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  What the actual fuck?

  I withdraw my hand from her leg and follow my GPS’s instructions to turn right. Up ahead, the road is lined with cars on both sides.

  “Mason family hack,” she says, sitting up in her seat. “Pull up to the driveway. It’ll be blocked off, but we’ll tell the guy it’s me, and he’ll let me through.”

  “Nice.”

&
nbsp; I do as instructed. A man stops us on the road. A rather large man with a suit on leans into the car.

  “Hey, Nate!” she says. “Can we get through, please?”

  “Hey, Larissa. Sure thing.”

  He steps back from the car, and we’re allowed to proceed up a driveway made to look like cobblestones.

  “That guy looks like he could throw down.”

  She winces. “I bet he can. He owns a bar called The Gold Room. I think being able to hold your own kind of goes with the territory.”

  We proceed up the tree-lined drive. The house in front of us is even more impressive than the Landry’s. It appears to be three stories, all brick, with a manicured lawn that’s lit up by little hanging lanterns in the trees.

  It looks like a movie set. There are no two ways about it.

  “This is pretty, huh?” she asks.

  “Pretty fucking incredible. Holy shit, Riss.”

  She grins. “This is my favorite place in the world.”

  “I thought it was with me,” I say as I park my car behind a Range Rover.

  “You’re totally a close second.”

  I shake my head, knowing she’s full of shit.

  She doesn’t wait for me to open her door, but she’s so excited to get inside that I can’t blame her. She reminds me of how I feel on the first day of football practice. I can’t deny her that kind of joy.

  A arch has been erected out of golden-colored lights. Larissa takes my hand as we approach it.

  “They don’t spare any expenses, do they?” I crack.

  “No. This is my aunt’s claim to fame.”

  We walk through the lights to see what appears to be icicles dripping from the top. It’s incredible, and I wish I had this kind of money lying around to put to my claim to fame.

  Not that I know what that would even be. But still.

  We enter through an oversized wooden door, and it’s party chaos in the most sophisticated way. There’s music playing through speakers hidden from view. Balloons in golds and silvers coat the ceiling with little ribbon pieces extending down and floating just a few feet overhead. The house is crowded with people wearing everything from suits and dresses like Jack’s event to jeans and T-shirts.