by Tabatha Kiss
“Go away.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t want you around here.”
Alyssa laughs. “Oh, please. You can’t possibly be mad about last night.”
“Actually, yes. I am.”
“Get over it.” She turns her treadmill on, setting it to a brisk walking pace while she warms up.
Of course, my eyes instantly fall to her tits, pressed tightly against her beneath a black sports bra. They bounce with every step she takes, each jiggle sending fireworks down to my groin.
Forget it, buddy.
She ain’t worth it.
I push my earbuds back in and resume my run, targeting a speed a little faster than my usual gait, trying to ignore the fact that Alyssa Pierce is running beside me in skin-tight leggings.
She increases her speed, easily matching mine. It pisses me off. A lot. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let her outrun me. Not here. Not in my gym.
I fill my lungs and knock the speed up a notch, tapping into my stamina to keep me going. It’s a fast but easy stride, something I can maintain long enough to prove my point.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her tap the dash. She runs faster. Faster?
Are you fucking kidding me?
She can’t keep up with this pace for very long. No way. Soon, her little girly legs will slow her down. She’s not nearly as fit as I am.
My chest heaves. A slow burn builds in my chest, telling me to slow down before I hurt myself, but…
Nah.
I glance over at Alyssa. She’s barely broken a sweat.
Oh, come on!
I tap the speed up a little higher. She does, too.
“What’s wrong, Junior?” She chuckles, her words labored between thick breaths. “Having trouble?”
I grunt.
“Maybe you should slow down,” she says.
“I’m— fine.”
“Oh, yeah—?”
“Yeah!” I glance at her bouncing chest. “You should— take it— easy.”
“I’m good—” She heaves harder. “I could do this—“ A stumble, but she smooths it out. “All day.”
I keep running. She does, too.
Fuck.
I can’t keep this up. If I don’t stop, I could injure myself. If I injure myself, I can’t play football. If I can’t play football, then I’m nothing. I’m no one.
I will not ruin my life over a stupid girl.
I push the stop button and hop off the treadmill. My legs turn to jelly beneath me, but I force myself to stay upright as I plow toward the locker rooms on the opposite side. The last thing I want is to fall over and humiliate myself in front of her. Again.
I glance back at her. She’s still running, of course. Lady has to make her point, I guess. Whatever. Don’t care.
My eyes move on their own, taking in every curve of her perfect fucking body. Blood that should fuel my pounding heart fires downward. Images of her lying spread eagle in my van flash in my mind. Her taste emerges on my tongue; a flavor that no amount of vodka could get rid of last night.
I’ve never wanted to hate-fuck a girl so badly in my entire life.
I lean over the water fountain by the locker rooms and shoot the water on my face to drown myself. It’s ice cold, and it hurts, but I don’t care. I let it trail through my hair and bleed into my eyes.
When I stand up, there she is.
“Hey,” Alyssa says, leaning against the wall beside the water fountain.
“Nope.”
I twist away, headed straight for the men’s locker room.
She latches onto my arm, tugging me with her instead. My weak, jelly-filled legs follow her as she shoves me through the door to the ladies locker room.
“Alyssa, what are you doing?”
She closes the door behind us and blocks me from leaving. “I wanted to talk to you and it’s safer in here where no one will see it,” she says.
“Oh, heaven forbid someone sees us talking,” I say. “You didn’t seem to have an issue with anyone seeing you stealing my clothes last night.”
“You had it coming.”
“I had it coming?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Junior, you openly admitted that the only reason you asked me out in the first place was to sleep with me.”
“Right. I was honest with you from the start,” I say. “Some girls might consider that a good thing.”
“Maybe, but—”
“You know, for a second there, I thought you were having a good time.”
“For a second there, I was.” She takes a breath. “Junior, I grew up with a dad who collected women like trading cards. Obviously, I don’t appreciate being treated that way and I don’t put up with it. But to each their own. If you want to keep doing what you’re doing, I’m not here to stop you or judge you. I just ask that you pivot your intentions elsewhere from now on.”
“No problem, lady,” I say, barely keeping my calm. “Honestly, I think you might be more trouble than you’re worth, anyway. I’ve lost interest.”
She twitches. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. Girls like you are too high strung to let loose the way I like.”
It’s ballsy, and stupid, but I’m getting hard just watching the subtle anger boiling the oceans in her eyes.
“Fine.” She clears her throat. “I guess we’re cool, then.”
“Totally cool.” I grip the door handle behind her. “Excuse me.”
She slides over a little, but not far enough for me to open the door to leave. I jerk it open, smacking her ass with it before stepping back out into the gym.
“Hey, Junior!”
I freeze in my tracks. Cary Pierce is heading toward me. Cary Pierce knows my name.
Nope. Still not used to that yet.
“Hey, Coach!”
He stops in front of me. “Hitting the gym early,” he says. “I like that.”
“Yeah, I—”
“Grab a towel and dry off,” he interrupts. “Then meet me in my office. We need to talk.”
Oh, shit.
“Sure, no problem,” I say. “I’ll be right there.”
He passes me by, heading down the hall toward the offices.
I glance at the ladies’ room door behind me. Did someone see us last night? I thought the arcade would be far enough away from Chicago North that prying eyes wouldn’t be a problem. Was I wrong? Or did someone notice us in the quad before we even left… you know, because I had the brilliant idea of shouting her name?
Fuck.
I grab a towel, dabbing my sweat off as I make my way into the hallway. Is this it? Am I finished? Coach only had three rules, and I broke the most important one.
Stay away from my daughter.
It was the easiest one, too, and I couldn’t even do that because my dick runs the entire Junior Morgan Show. I didn’t care about anything last night other than getting her in the back of my van, as she so eloquently pointed out only a few minutes ago.
I linger a few feet away from Coach’s office doorway before gathering my courage.
“Come on in, Junior,” he tells me from behind his desk. “Close the door behind you.”
I obey, acting casual. “What’s up, Coach?” I ask.
He points at the chair in front of his desk.
“Junior, we need to talk about your future here.”
“My future?” I ask as I sit down.
“I don’t need to ask you where you see yourself in five years because I’m pretty sure I already know the answer to that,” he says. “You want to go pro, right?”
“Absolutely,” I say without hesitation.
“Then you need to plan now,” he continues. “You don’t want something completely avoidable to impede that. I took the liberty of speaking to your academic advisor and she had a few concerns about your grades.”
“Oh. Yeah…” I wince, but I breathe a little easier. Somehow, I doubt Alyssa moaning in my van is about to c
ome up in this conversation. “Studying isn’t really my strongest area.”
“It wasn’t mine, either. But if your grades get any worse, they’re going to put you on academic probation. You don’t want that during your senior year.”
“No.” I clear my throat. “No, I don’t.”
“Senior year means scouts. And drafts,” he says, his eyes soft. “And, honestly, out of all the players on the team, you have the best shot of them to go all the way.”
Whoa.
Cary Pierce thinks I can go pro. He said it to my face.
“That’s… thank you.”
He smiles. “You and I come from the same world. Dirt poor. Not a lot of opportunities. But that doesn’t define who you are. I saw how wide your eyes got the other night at my house. I’m guessing you’ve never been in a place that big before, right?”
I nod.
“Take it from me, Junior — you don’t want unnecessary complications weighing you down. When I was about your age, I screwed up big. I got horrible grades, I wasn’t taking care of myself, and I…” He pauses, shaking his head. “I knocked up a girl I barely knew. I got Alyssa from that — and she’s great — but her existence made achieving my dreams a whole lot harder.”
I feel a twist in my gut; a sharp sympathy pain for her. “Right,” I say.
He taps his fist on the edge of his desk. “Straighten up. Get focused. Hire a tutor to bring those grades up if you have to. And tonight,” he grins, “I’m going to show you off at that press event.”
My eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“This season, we get their attention,” he says. “Next season, we keep it. By then, every college football fan in the country will know your name and the scouts will be lined up at your door.”
Holy shit.
“Thank you, Coach.”
“Now, get out of here,” he says, smiling. “Go to class or something.”
“I will,” I say as I stumble out of his office.
It’s all happening.
I don’t know what cosmic force decided I was worth bending the rules for, but I suddenly feel the need to get down on my knees for it. With Cary Pierce as my coach, backing me up, and pointing the spotlight in my direction, there’s no way I won’t get everything I’ve always wanted. I’ll get the contracts and the fame and the women. Everything beyond my wildest dreams will be in the palm of my hand.
Straighten up. Get focused. Forget about distractions.
Distractions like Alyssa Pierce.
CHAPTER 12
ALYSSA
“Take me with you.”
I scan the script, blinking repeatedly as I try to find the words. “Grant, that’s not your line.”
He pulls the book away from my face. “I’m talking about the shindig at your house tonight.”
“It’s not a shindig.” I glance around the talkative classroom. The professor broke us off into pairs to memorize a three-page scene and Grant and I have to perform ours first… in twenty minutes. “It’s an opportunity for my dad to parade me around in front of the cameras to better his image.”
“But the whole team will be there, right?”
“Most of them, probably. Why?”
“Uh, strapping young men in suits? Take me with you.”
“You don’t want to go, Grant. Believe me.”
He furrows his brow. “What’s gotten into you today? You don’t seem like your usual bright and fluffy self.”
I push aside the memories from earlier. “I just have a bug up my ass. Don’t worry about it.”
“Is this bug named Junior Morgan?”
“Shh.”
“Sorry. Is this bug named Munior Jordan?”
Grant grins.
I glare.
“What’d he do?” he asks, pressing onward.
I sigh. “He said some shit that kinda ticked me off this morning, that’s all.”
A sly wink. “This morning, eh?”
“I ran into him at the gym,” I say before he implodes. “We didn’t spend the night together if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“What happened on your date?”
I cringe. “Long story.”
“Come on. You’ve gotta give me something. What’d he say?”
The kind of shit that makes me a hypocrite.
One moment, I’m telling him to shift his focus to other women. The next, I’m feeling dejected when he actually does.
I gesture with the script. “We should really memorize this scene.”
“Okay, fine. But… just one more question.” His face hardens. “Do I need to kick his ass?”
I laugh.
“Because I can,” he adds, still serious. “And I will.”
“No ass-kicking needed. I can handle it. But thank you,” I say.
“Good.” He waits a moment, then… “But seriously, can I please be your plus one tonight? Ty will be there.”
I chuckle at his obvious crush. “Fine. Just stay out of the way. And don’t break anything.”
He gives a celebratory fist-pump. “Yes!”
“And dress up. It’s a black-tie kind of thing.”
He frowns. “What are you going to wear?”
“I thought about going shopping after class…” His eyes grow wide and I grin. “You are more than welcome to join me.”
One last happy fist-pump later and we’re back into the scene, struggling to memorize it with our time now cut in half.
Junior is going to flip.
I’m not sure why the thought entered my head.
I’m not even sure why I bought the dress in the first place.
It’s a little out of my style preference — and way out of my price range — but my immediate thought went straight to what Junior Morgan’s reaction will be when he sees me in it. It’s sleek and black with a lone red stripe down the side that travels over my curves perfectly.
However, the reason is more than obvious, no matter how dumb I try to play.
Sweet revenge.
Junior told me he wasn’t interested in me anymore. I’m more trouble than I’m worth, he said. Getting brushed aside by men shouldn’t be such a shock to me anymore, but for some reason, coming from Junior Morgan, it stung. It cut deep — even deeper than feeling like my father’s accessory.
“This is my girl, Alyssa!” he announces. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done it for this girl right here!”
There are a series of awws from the news crews and their voices echo through the foyer as cameras flash in our direction, making me dizzy. I’d probably tumble down these stairs if it weren’t for his arm wrapped around my shoulders.
The reporters fire off a series of questions at me, but my father doesn’t give me a chance to reply to any of them. He answers for me with his loud voice, singing my praises while getting the details very wrong.
I’m not a singer. I’m an actress.
I’m not a sophomore. I’m a junior.
But none of that really matters. Details mean nothing in the end. Just stand and smile. Hug him as if he’s a giant, protective teddy bear because that’s what he wants me to do. Do that, and he’ll let me have everything I want.
Well, almost everything.
Finally, he releases me and waves for the camera crews to follow him. “Come on back and meet the team. There are some fantastic young athletes here that I’m dying to introduce the world to.”
I grip the railing, staying put and smiling as I wave them goodbye like a pretty little princess.
They follow my father through the house, and I wonder how I photographed in the dress. Hopefully, they couldn’t notice that I’m not wearing underwear. The darn thing was too tight to wear them comfortably.
“You look great. Relax.”
Grant emerges from his hiding spot upstairs and offers me a wide grin.
“He’s definitely going to cream his boxers,” he says.
“Who?” I ask.
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” he snips. “I think we both
know who you bought that dress for. It certainly wasn’t moi.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t bother trying to deny it. “I want to have the last word, that’s all…”
“Honey, I think he’s going to be last wording to this dress three times a day for the next month…” Grant makes a subtle jerking motion with his fist and I laugh. “Consider your mission accomplished.”
“Okay, then.”
He presents his arm for me to take, looking rather dapper in his rented suit. “Shall we? I just have to get my eyes on these fantastic young athletes.”
I latch on to Grant’s arm. We walk through the house together into the backyard. My father has arranged several members of the football team, Junior included, in the center garden. Cameras surround them on all sides, lights flashing as reporters shout questions.
“I think Ty looked at me,” Grant whispers in my ear, his voice full of excitement. I chuckle and find Ty standing next to Junior, but there’s no way to confirm Grant’s suspicions. I won’t kill the wind in his sails, either.
I lock eyes with Junior, who actually is full-on staring at me.
“This one here—” my father shouts, shaking Junior’s shoulders, “is Junior Morgan. Now, you don’t have to write this one down because I guarantee after Saturday’s game, you’ll have no problems remembering it.”
Cameras flash again. Reporters shout questions at him. Cary Pierce nudges his ribs, smiling with pride.
But Junior Morgan’s eyes never stray far from my body.
Mission accomplished.
CHAPTER 13
JUNIOR
Okay.
Being not interested in Alyssa Pierce is a hell of a lot harder than I thought it would be.
That dress. That body. Those eyes. There isn’t a single part of her I wouldn’t kill to touch or kiss or completely destroy.
“Junior?”
Coach shakes my shoulders again, snapping me out of the extreme sexual fantasy taking over my mind… starring his daughter.
I throw on a smile and wave, forcing myself to look away from that black dress hugging every curve of her body.
I saw the way she looked at me. I saw that subtle twitch of her lips — like she’s starving for food and just saw a defenseless animal walk right into her trap. She wanted me to look at her, to notice her, to want her.
