by B. B. Hamel
Things were moving on the right track. I was going to play backup to Raylon while they prepped me to take over the bulk of the running duties in the years to come. I was working hard at practice, keeping my fucking head down at night, and taking my therapy with Taylor seriously.
But of course, shit changes fast in life.
I’d never forget that day. I came in early for some damn reason, probably couldn’t sleep. But I found Taylor already working hard at her desk.
She looked up, surprised. “Owen,” she said.
“Nice place,” I said, looking around. I’d never been in the offices before.
“It’s okay.” She leaned back in her chair, her arms crossed—classic closed-off body language. “What can I do for you?”
“You can do a lot for me.”
She pursed her lips. “Not here.”
I looked around. “Nobody else can hear us. Might as well tell me how much you love stretching me out.”
She sighed. “My boss could hear you. Please, you’ll get me in trouble.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t want to get you in trouble.” I nodded back toward the door. “Mind getting our session done early?”
“Sure.” She stood up. “Get it over with.”
I laughed. “Please. It’s the highlight of your day.”
“You wish.”
We headed down to our usual spot and went through the routine. When I was finished, I headed out to the field to join the other guys for warm-ups.
My mind was on her that morning. Maybe it was because I had come in early and flirted with her right off the bat, or maybe it was because she was always on my mind. But either way, I was distracted as we started the drills.
It was just a normal hitting drill. Nothing special. Raylon and I had gone through it a hundred times already and would go through it a thousand more while we played together.
For some reason, though, things didn’t go right that morning. When we did our normal little burst and then slammed into each other, Raylon let out the kind of yelling scream you never wanted to hear on the football field.
He was instantly down on the ground, clutching his knee. I backed off, stunned, as the training staff piled onto the field. Taylor was there, and she gave me a surprised look as people hustled around Raylon.
“What the fuck happened?”
I looked over at Coach Ricky Kelly. “I don’t know,” I said. “Nothing happened. It was routine.”
“Doesn’t fucking look routine. Looks like you blew his knee out.”
“I didn’t, Coach. It was routine.”
He gave me an angry look for a moment. “I hope you’re ready to play, kid,” he said after a second, and then he walked away to check on Raylon.
I stood and watched as the training staff helped him off the field. I ran over that moment in my head over and over again, but from what I could tell it was just a normal drill. I hadn’t done anything wrong or differently.
Maybe it was because I was distracted. Maybe I had fucked Raylon’s leg up because I couldn’t stop thinking about Taylor. Or maybe freak shit happened in life all the damn time, and we just got unlucky as hell.
I’d never know, but my entire life changed in one afternoon.
Practice went on like it usually did. During the midday break, I was leaning up against the goalpost, drinking a cup of water, when Taylor came up to me.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded. “Yeah. Fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“Coach thinks I fucked up Raylon’s knee.”
“I heard him.”
“I didn’t do shit.”
“I know,” she said. “I was watching. It was clean.”
I nodded slowly. “Thanks for saying that.”
“You’re going to start now, you know.”
I grinned at her. “Excited?”
“Nervous, actually.”
“What are you nervous about? I’m the one playing.”
“I’m the one trying to make sure you don’t wreck your body.”
“Please. I’m a well-oiled machine.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“I can show you just how well-oiled I am later on after practice.”
She cracked a small smile for the first time in days. “We’ll see.”
The coaches called us back to the huddle, and I nodded to her as I trotted back to the guys.
I liked that smile. I wanted to see more of that smile. But I was about to be the starting running back for the Philadelphia Eagles in my damn rookie year, and now I didn’t have time for distractions, at least no more distractions than I already had in my way-too-complicated life.
Even a distraction as sweet as Taylor.
7
Taylor
My life instantly got a lot harder on the morning Raylon got injured. Owen was instantly promoted up the ranks to the starting running back, which meant that I was instantly promoted to one of the more important members of the training staff.
I had no clue how I ended up here. I was just an apprentice, and I thought I had at least another few years before I worked with a serious starter. But here I was, stretching him out every day before and after practice, plus working on his strength. His body’s health was a reflection of me.
And I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I knew what he wanted, because he was vocal about it every time I saw him. At first it was obnoxious, but I started to look forward to his jokes.
I got to know him. I realized that he was more than just another jock playing in the NFL. He was funny and smart, basically the opposite of what I had thought a professional running back would be.
The first game came faster than I could have guessed. One second we were working together for the first time, basically strangers, and the next he was out on the field in full uniform, taking snaps.
I watched from the sidelines, shocked by how nervous I was for him. Owen seemed completely at ease with the other players and with himself, and I couldn’t tell if he was worried or not.
As the game progressed, I realized that Owen Rack lived to play football. He smashed through the line again and again, gaining yards on almost every single play. He was a monster on the turf, breaking tackles and bruising skulls.
I couldn’t help but remember the man from the club that night, his hard cock against my body as we danced. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about him beating up that guy for me again and again as we worked together.
The Eagles were winning in the second half by two touchdowns. In the fourth quarter, with only four minutes left on the clock, they called a running play straight up the gut, just like Owen liked it.
He burst through the line, but one of the defensive players fell sideways. The brute rolled into Owen’s legs, throwing him to the ground.
There was a short scrum as the whistle blew. The refs worked to clear the pile, and when everyone was up, Owen remained on the ground, clutching his knee.
I’d never run so fast in my life. I was out on that field in a heartbeat, heading right for Owen, worry surging through my gut.
I knelt down next to him as the other trainers arrived.
“What hurts?” I asked him.
“Left knee,” he grunted. “I’m okay, though.”
“Don’t move.” I looked at Lee, the head trainer, and he nodded as he went through his checklist with Owen.
I stayed right by his side, worry surging through me. I didn’t think about my own career, but about his. The guy was so young, and it was his first game in the pros. If he was seriously injured, this could end his entire career.
But after a minute, he was back on his feet. He took his helmet off and grinned at me. “Scared you?”
“A little,” I said.
“Takes more than that to keep me down.”
“Don’t get hurt, Owen. You can’t afford it.”
“Neither can you.” He grinned at me. “Meet me in the locker room after the game.”
“Stretch this knee out.”
“Got it.”
The other trainers were heading off the field, so I hustled to catch up with them.
The rest of the game went smoothly. Owen’s touches on the ball were kept in check just to give him a chance to heal while the rest of the offense took care of the game. They scored on another passing play and ended up winning by three touchdowns.
Afterward, the team had to cool down and then do their press conferences. I hung around outside the locker room, just another person waiting in the wings, while the guys did their thing. People were milling around all over, and the mood was pretty positive.
Slowly, the place started to clear out. After maybe a half hour of waiting around, I still hadn’t seen Owen. I poked my head into the room.
“Owen?” I called.
“In here.”
I stepped inside. “Where are you?”
“Toward the back.”
I walked down the rows and stopped short at the second to last. Sitting on the bench was Owen, wrapped in a towel and nothing else. He looked up at me and grinned. “Hey, princess.”
“You could have put some clothes on.”
“And deny you this beautiful sight?”
“Meet me in the training room.”
“No. Just wait.” He stood up. “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go through it here.”
“What? Why? Just meet me down there.” I turned to leave.
“Taylor.” I stopped. “My knee fucking hurts, okay? I don’t want to walk down there.”
I frowned at him. “You told Lee you were fine.”
“I lied.”
I sighed. “Okay. Get dressed.”
I moved away and leaned up against a locker.
“I couldn’t tell the truth,” Owen said. “You know that would have been bad.”
“I know.”
“What can you do for me?”
“It depends. I don’t know how bad the injury is.”
“Damn fat bastard. He fell right on me.”
“I saw. Looked pretty awful.”
“You know those guys weight like three hundred?” He emerged from the row wearing shorts and a tight T-shirt. “It’s like having an elephant drop on your leg.”
“Come on. Let’s get you sorted.”
We headed toward the center of the locker room where there was more space and carpet. He got down on his back and I started his stretching routine, though I could tell it was hurting him.
I prodded at the knee gingerly. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes,” he grunted.
“How bad?”
“Not so bad that I can’t walk, but I feel it.”
I nodded. “That’s probably good. Means nothing is torn or broken.”
“Feels fucking torn.”
“Bad pain isn’t always a bad thing. Just means you need to rest it.”
“I can’t take time off.”
I sighed. “Owen, if you push it, you’ll make it worse.”
“I’m a rookie, Taylor. I can’t hold back.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Keep this between us.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Please. We’ll work on it extra.”
I frowned at him. “I’m not sure that’ll help.”
“Let’s try it. If it gets worse, we’ll tell the other trainers.”
I bit my lip and looked away. I got a flash of him fighting that guy for me. “Okay. Fine,” I said. “One week. If it’s not better by Friday, we’re telling them.”
“Deal.” He held out his hand.
I took it to shake and he pulled me down toward him. I lost my balance and fell on top of him, my face inches away from his.
For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to, wanted his lips against mine. I knew it was stupid, but there I was, on top of the guy in the middle of the locker room, our bodies inches apart.
“Owen?”
We both looked up. Noah Slater, the quarterback for the team, was standing in the doorway.
“What up, Noah?” Owen asked. I straightened up, moving away from him.
“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Noah asked.
“No,” I said quickly. “We were just getting in some post-game work.”
“Right. Well, the guys are heading out. Coach wants you to do media and then head home.”
“Fine,” Owen said.
Noah nodded and then left.
I stood up. “I should go.”
“We were just getting started.”
“Stay off that knee. Ice it when you get home, and don’t put any pressure on it until you absolutely have to. Okay?”
“Whatever you say, doctor.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’d let you give me physicals all night long.”
I sighed. “Take it easy, Owen.”
“Hard to with you around.”
I turned and walked out, waving as I left.
I had almost kissed him. Noah had seen us in a pretty bad position, but that wasn’t the worst thing. I could just say that it was a misunderstanding.
But it wasn’t. I had been about to kiss Owen, or he had been about to kiss me. I couldn’t tell, but I knew what my body wanted.
I wanted him to strip me slowly and fuck me roughly up against the steel locker doors.
And that was so very dangerous.
8
Owen
By Monday after the game, I was walking on my knee without pain. That was a fucking relief, because if my knee were really fucked up, my career could be done.
I had more at stake than just my career. There were dark things complicating everything I did, things I wasn’t proud of. Nobody knew about them, and nobody could know about them, because that would ruin me.
Worse, it would ruin my grandmother. She was in her late eighties and not in the best health. She couldn’t take care of herself anymore, so I was putting most of my money into paying for her long-term care facility. She was being taken care of only because I could afford to pay for it.
I hadn’t always been able to afford that, though. At my worst, when her money was running out and I had nothing to offer her, I had made a decision. I had made a decision that would change my life forever.
But that didn’t matter. My knee was okay, and I was going to live to play another day. I couldn’t admit to Taylor how damn worried I was about my injury, but I figured she could tell.
Monday’s practice came and went. I did okay, with minimal pain. Coach seemed to sense that I was holding back, and he let me off a little earlier than normal. I hit the ice bath and then had a short session with Taylor before heading home.
Tuesday came and went in much the same way. People always thought that professional athletes led these amazing, fun-filled lives, but that was far from the truth.
We had to work hard to stay at the top. That meant we didn’t have time to mess around when we were in season. My days were all about football, and my nights were all about resting my body. There was nothing else for me.
I wanted more, though. After practice on Tuesday, I found myself alone in my damn apartment, staring at the television. Back in college I always had people around me, and sometimes that got exhausting. But now that I was in the pros, I had the opposite problem. I was alone a lot of the time, living in my own apartment not too far from our practice facilities.
I looked at my phone, and I had an idea. It was a whim, a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing, but as soon as I thought of it, I couldn’t help myself.
I quickly sent a text. “I need some extra work.”
Taylor responded almost immediately. “What do you mean? You should be resting.”
“Not practice. I need some extra work with you.”
“It’s late, Owen. Get some sleep.”
I looked at the clock. It was only nine.
“It’s not late.
Come to the facility. I’ll send a car.”
“I can’t. It’s after hours.”
“So? I need you to stretch me out.”
She was silent for a few minutes. I pictured her debating whether or not she should go in for this, but I knew she would.
She couldn’t help herself.
“Fine,” she said finally. “Send the car. I’ll stay for an hour.”
“See you soon.”
I was grinning to myself as I called the car service and sent them to her apartment. I got changed and headed out, walking down toward the facilities.
I knew it would take her about ten minutes, maybe fifteen, to get there. I walked at a leisurely pace, thinking about what had happened to get me to this place.
I was just some poor fucking kid from a bad neighborhood. I just liked playing football and smashing bodies. I was lucky as fuck, and I knew plenty of people from my hometown who’d had a better upbringing than I had who weren’t nearly as lucky as I was. I was making tons of cash and playing in the NFL. Not many people got that sort of privilege.
And yet I just kept thinking about Taylor. I should have been out every night, fucking new girls, but instead I was too busy thinking about her. I didn’t know what it was, but that one night had set me on fucking fire. I had to have more, and every time she pretended like she didn’t want to get close, it just made me want her that much more.
I finally made it to the facility. The side door was unlocked, and I headed inside. Down the hall I saw that the workout room’s light was on. As I poked my head inside, Taylor was leaning up against the wall, texting.
“You showed,” I said.
“I showed.” She was wearing her normal work outfit.
“Come on.”
“Where are you going?”
“You’ll see.”
I turned and left the room. I heard her run to catch up with me. “I thought you wanted a workout.”
“I decided I need something more relaxing.”
“We shouldn’t be in here, Owen. If you want to relax, do it back at home.”
