Touchdown Baby: A College Football Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  He offers me his hand to help me up, but I push off the floor by myself. “Oh, come on…” He laughs. “Don’t be like that.”

  I hold out my ringing phone. “Have you tried calling her?” I mock. “I had my damn ringer on.” He snatches it out of my hand. “What are you doing?”

  “Adding my number for later,” he says, tapping away at the screen. Once he’s done, he passes it back. “I’ll pick you up at seven, Alyssa Pierce.”

  “Fine — wait, no.”

  “Ally…” He raises a brow. “We had a deal.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I have an audition on Friday, so I’ll be rehearsing in Talon Hall tonight until eight.”

  “Ah.” He smiles. “Then, I’ll meet you there at eight.”

  “That works.”

  Junior takes a purposeful step closer to me. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?”

  He releases the strategic grip on his towel, but he keeps it pinned to his waist. His cock slides out, still hard as stone, pointing just an inch or two from my hand.

  “Do I do the same to you?” he asks again.

  I swallow the desire down my throat. “Do you give me a raging hard-on? I can’t say I’m equipped for it.”

  “You know what I mean.” His eyes fall down my body. “Don’t lie. I can tell.”

  “You can tell?”

  “Oh, I can tell a lot just by looking at you, Ally.”

  I scoff. “Like what?”

  “Like how you’re definitely not a virgin. You didn’t even flinch when you pulled off my towel.”

  I say nothing. Not his business, anyway.

  “You also touched me without even hesitating,” he continues. “Tells me you know exactly what to do with it and honestly, I’m dying to find out what you can do.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Really.”

  “Fat chance.”

  He chuckles. “So, tell me. Did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Blush.”

  I open my mouth to lie, but my gut stops me. He’s expecting a denial. That would just prove his point. Telling the truth would only vindicate him, too.

  “Your silence is very loud, Alyssa Pierce,” he says, briefly flashing his entire groin at me as he readjusts his towel. “Makes me wonder how loud you can be in other ways.”

  “I guess we’ll see.”

  “I guess we will.” He slides back toward his locker. “You’re welcome to stay and watch me get dressed.”

  “No, thank you.”

  I brush past him, catching a quick whiff of his fresh deodorant, possibly some lingering cologne in the air as well.

  Fuck, he smells good.

  “I’ll see you tonight, then. Wait…”

  I spin back in a huff. “What now?”

  Junior shuffles toward the door, clutching his towel as he reaches for the handle. “Hang on…” He gestures for me to stand back and he opens the door, peeking out into the hallway like a professional look-out. “It’s clear. Wouldn’t want Daddy to see you walking out of here, would you?”

  My lips curl on their own. “Thanks,” I say. “That’s very thoughtful.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am a little.”

  He holds the door open for me. “Get used to it.”

  I blink once, torn on whether to thank him again or issue a snarky comeback. I choose silence instead, nodding softly as I step through the doorway.

  It closes behind me and I take a deep breath of crisp, air-conditioned freedom, hoping it subdues the nerves dancing inside of me.

  My phone vibrates again in my hand. This time, I answer the call. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the athletic center looking for you—” I round the corner and come face-to-face with him. “And I found you!”

  He sighs and lowers his phone from his ear.

  “Sorry I missed you,” I say, pulling a lie right out of my ass. “I was in the ladies’ room and—”

  “Why are you wet?”

  I freeze. “What?”

  He gestures at my shirt.

  Shit.

  Junior Morgan’s hard, moist chest imprinted on my blouse.

  “Oh!” I roll my eyes. “I spilled some water. Still hasn’t dried yet…”

  Please buy it. Please buy it.

  He shrugs and nudges toward the stairs. “Well, let’s get to it.”

  I release a silent breath as he stalks off.

  Dammit, Junior.

  And yet, I smile.

  CHAPTER 5

  JUNIOR

  Alyssa Pierce touched my dick.

  I’m supposed to be in class right now, but I can’t tell you which one.

  All I can think about is her. The way she quivered when I pressed her against those lockers. The rush of pink in her cheeks. The lust hidden in her glistening, sinful eyes. One more minute alone and she would have dropped to her knees and—

  Ouch.

  Someone punches my shoulder, sharp and hard, instantly bringing me out of my Alyssa spiral.

  “Hey, little brother.”

  I glance up from my table and I smile, all pain fading away. “Hey, Mag.”

  Maggie slides into the chair across from me. “What are you doing over here?” she asks as she sets down two cups of coffee cart coffee. “You’re staring off into space like a weirdo.”

  Maggie is four years older than me, but you’d think it was the other way around. She’s got that cutesy vibe to her, along with a child-like voice and baby-fat cheeks, so she’s always had an issue with people taking her seriously.

  Luckily, she’s got me and I’m more than willing to correct anyone who even glances wrong in her direction.

  “Just killing time,” I say.

  I shrug at the very active student union food court. It was coincidence I walked in here at the same time as Alyssa and Cary Pierce. She hasn’t noticed me yet. I think. I’ve been gawking at them for the last twenty minutes.

  Maggie raises an eyebrow. “Wanna talk about it?”

  And that’s Mag.

  She got her degree in psychology before I even set foot here. Now, she’s going through Chicago North’s prestigious graduate program, but she’s had a thing for Freud since we were kids. She was my very own Lucy from Charlie Brown, charging me a nickel for every problem of mine she solved.

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “But we’re almost two weeks into the semester,” she says. “Surely, you have some girl problem to throw at me by now.”

  I feel Alyssa’s phantom touch beneath the belt. My eyes flick on their own, drawn to her. Moth to the flame. Her father says something, and she laughs back at him, although I can’t tell if it’s genuine or forced.

  “I have a date tonight,” I say. “Maybe I’ll have something for you at lunch on Sunday.”

  Maggie rubs her palms together. “Ooh, a date tonight? With whom?”

  “Wait until Sunday, Mag.”

  She slouches with disappointment. “Fine. Here—” She pushes the second coffee across the table at me. “You can have this. Nate was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago, but he’s not here yet, so it’s forfeited to you.”

  I palm the cup, letting the warmth tickle my fingers. “What’s he up to nowadays?”

  “Same old, same old,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes. But she ends it with a smile. A girl still very much in love.

  I laugh. Maggie met Nate three days into their freshman year, and they’ve been attached at the hips ever since. They’re the very definition of relationship goals, but I know Maggie wishes she’d experimented a little before latching onto him so fast. That’s why she grills me about my escapades at our weekly Sunday lunches. She lives vicariously through my many, many mistakes.

  My eyes float to Alyssa again and a shock trembles my system. She’s staring right at me, but she looks away the second we make eye contact.

  “So, that’s Cary
Pierce, huh?” Maggie asks, pointing across the room at their table.

  “That’s him. You should have heard the sound that came out of Dad when I told him.”

  “I can imagine.” She takes a sip from her coffee. “Who’s the girl?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I force a shrug, feeling the rush of words filling my throat. Talking to Maggie about my problems is just about the only good habit I have, but I don’t want her analyzing Alyssa right now.

  “Look, I gotta get going,” I say, making my escape. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  “Bye, little brother.”

  I slide the untouched coffee back over to her and she takes it to give to Nate. All will be forgiven as soon as he flashes his handsome face.

  “Bye, Mag,” I say.

  Don’t look at her.

  Don’t look at her.

  Don’t look at her.

  I beeline for the exit, but my damned eyes pull toward her on their own.

  Apparently, Alyssa Pierce has the same problem. She watches me walk away, little eyes flicking downward at least once to check me out. Make that twice.

  I smile, inside and out.

  Tonight, I’ll have her pinned again.

  Tonight, I’ll taste those sweet lips.

  Tonight, I’ll feel her body quiver as I’m thrusting and—

  “Hey—!”

  I walk right into some guy. He drops his textbook, and it slams onto the floor, drawing the eyes of people around us.

  “Watch it, dick,” the guy spits at me as he grabs his book.

  “Sorry,” I say. I keep my head down and bolt through the exit, just knowing that Alyssa’s piercing blues caught the entire thing.

  First that tackle at practice and now this…

  If I could stop embarrassing myself in front of Alyssa Pierce… that’d be great.

  CHAPTER 6

  JUNIOR

  I open the door to Talon Hall, stopping just beyond the entryway to look around.

  I’ve never been in this building before.

  Talon is for the artsy majors like theatre and music and… well, art. I’ve never had a reason to set foot in here. Meeting up, and possibly hooking up, with Alyssa Pierce is more than a good enough reason to go in now. I doubt I’ll have an accidental run-in with anyone I know, anyway.

  After a few minutes of wandering the enormous lobby, I make it to the double doors of the auditorium. Voices echo from inside, my ears perking at the sound of Alyssa’s wickedly feminine tone.

  The voices get louder. I pause.

  She’s shouting.

  No. She’s arguing.

  She’s arguing with some guy.

  I yank open the auditorium doors. She’s up on the stage, her face contorted with anger and sadness as this punk screams at her. He’s tall, nearly as fit as I am, and perfectly capable of hurting her if he wants to.

  “Do you see what you did, eh?! You made a fool outta me.”

  “I’m sorry!” she says, her voice quivering. “I don’t know how many times I can say it…”

  Her eyes glisten, full of tears.

  I bound toward the stage.

  “Say it again,” he growls. “Say it like you mean it this time or so help me—”

  He grabs her arm. She winces with pain.

  Oh, hell no.

  “You’re hurting me!”

  “Good!”

  “Hey!” I launch onto the stage, forcing myself between them and giving the guy a hard push with my palm. “Leave her alone.”

  He looks at Alyssa, then me, then Alyssa again. Then they both burst with laughter.

  “It’s okay, Junior…” Alyssa guides me away from him, slow and gentle. “We’re just rehearsing a scene.”

  “And I guess we nailed it!” the guy says, his tone suddenly soft as clouds. “Finally.”

  “I told you we needed to make it more aggressive,” she says to him.

  “Wait…” My eyes bounce between them. “That wasn’t real?”

  “No,” he says, “but that sudden burst of powerful masculinity certainly was…”

  He rubs my shoulders, his hand lingering for a second too long.

  I pause, trapped between extreme embarrassment and awful confusion.

  Alyssa clears her throat. “Junior, this is Grant. I highly doubt you’ve met before.”

  “Not officially,” Grant confirms. He glances me up and down once before looking back at Alyssa. “Well, I’m going to call it a night. You two have fun — but not too much. That’s my job.”

  “Bye, Grant,” she says.

  He winks as he grabs his backpack off the stage and hops off. Alyssa stares me down, amusement bleeding from her eyes while she waits for Grant to exit the auditorium.

  The door closes behind him, and she smiles.

  “Now that we have the unsolicited chivalry portion of tonight’s events out of the way,” she says.

  “Hey,” I say. “Anyone could have walked in here and got the same idea I did.”

  “I know.” She chuckles. “Grant and I are auditioning for the leads in the fall play, so we’re pulling out all the stops — the more intense, the better.”

  I study her face. Her cheeks are still pulsing red, but her eyes show absolutely nothing of the fear I saw before. No tears. No pain. One shaking breath and it’s all gone, almost as if it never existed at all.

  “Are you all right?” I ask.

  She waves a hand and bends over to grab a bottle of water from her bag. “I’m fine. The adrenaline will wear off soon.”

  I take a breath, too, feeling my own adrenaline firing through me. The way I leapt up there to defend her… I’ve never done that before.

  “So, you have a tryout?” I ask.

  Alyssa laughs mid-sip, nearly spilling water down her chin. “I have an audition.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  She considers. “Nothing, I guess. There’s really not much of a difference between what you do and what I do, come to think of it.”

  I glance around at the stage. Red curtains and a grand piano. “It’s completely different,” I say.

  “How?”

  I smirk. “I play football, Ally.”

  “So?”

  “One is football. The other is… a little performance on a stage.”

  “Isn’t that what football is, too?”

  “No. Sports are about strategy and anticipating the opponent’s move before it even happens. I have to train hard to do what I do.”

  Alyssa crosses her arms. “And I don’t?”

  I stand up taller, matching her energy. “I’m in the gym five days a week.”

  “So am I. You think actors aren’t scrutinized over every bit of their appearance? Pound for pound, I’m probably judged more than you are.”

  “Okay…” I blink, yanked off course by the logic in her reasoning. “But my team counts on me to be in shape. I have to be where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there, or we don’t win.”

  “I have to hit every cue, memorize every word of my lines plus everyone else’s,” she says, her voice steady as a rock. “I have to live and breathe this place for weeks before opening night because if I don’t, then everyone will notice every missed step, every skipped line, and my crew will judge me for it — same as you. You memorize a few plays, you go out on the field every weekend, and you perform for the crowd. It’s the same thing.”

  “But people respect what I do a lot more than what you do.”

  She smiles. “Hate to break it to you, Junior, but this auditorium is always sold out. Can you say the same for that stadium out there?”

  I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. My throat clenches, smacked down into submission with the slightest crack of her tongue.

  “It’s the audience that gives it life, isn’t it?” she continues, her tone much softer. Almost comforting, as if she’s nursing a wound. “Grant and I were just rehearsing until you walked in and made it real. Without the cr
owd, it’s just a scrimmage. Right?”

  Total fucking whiplash.

  She offers me her bottle of water. “See? Not so different.”

  I take the water, feeling a sudden, dry thirst. “Yeah,” I concede. I twist the cap off and drink a hard sip. “Not so different.”

  “By the way, thanks for programming your name into my phone as Big Dick Morgan because that wouldn’t be difficult to explain to my dad or anything.”

  I crack up the instant she says the name. “It was funny. You laughed, admit it.”

  “You’re an ass.” She narrows her eyes. “I might have tittered. A little.”

  “I’ll take it.” I hand the bottle back to her. “Shall we?”

  “Depends on where we’re going.”

  “I have a few off-campus ideas,” I tease. “It won’t get back to the coach, I promise.”

  “You sure?”

  I draw an X across my chest. “Cross my heart.”

  Her eyes fall to my body and I know she’s thinking about earlier. Hell, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I’ve nearly jerked off a half dozen times since, but I didn’t in favor of saving it for tonight in case she touches me again.

  Who am I kidding? Of course, she’s going to touch me again tonight.

  I’m Junior fucking Morgan.

  “Let’s go,” I say, smiling at the thought.

  CHAPTER 7

  ALYSSA

  We step outside into the quad. It’s highly populated tonight, full of people enjoying the warm evening, hanging out and having fun. I pull the hood of my sweater over my head and slide my sunglasses on. The sun is falling fast, but I can’t risk being seen out with Junior. I even slow down to keep at least two paces behind him on the sidewalk.

  “Ally, what are you doing?”

  I look up to find Junior walking backward along the sidewalk, his eyes locked on me.

  “Turn back around,” I snap.

  “You look like you’re casing the place.”

  “I’m not casing. I’m being cautious.” He stops suddenly, making me collide with his thick chest. “Junior.”

  “Alyssa Pierce!” he shouts. “Watch where you’re going!”