Touchdown Baby: A College Football Romantic Comedy

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Mag,” I warn.

  Alyssa pats my hand. “No, it’s okay,” she says, smiling politely. “My mother is no longer with us. It’s just me and my dad.”

  “Oh, man, that’s awful,” Maggie says. “I can’t imagine life without my mother.”

  “Mag.”

  “What?” Her eyes shift to me in the mirror. I give her the sternest look I can muster. “I’m just preparing her for the same questions she’s going to get from Mom.”

  “It’s okay.” Alyssa chuckles. “Really. I don’t mind.”

  Nate adjusts his glasses. “So, Junior, what are the team’s odds for taking the championship this year?”

  I nod at him with gratitude for switching the subject. “I’m not huge on numbers, but fair to really good,” I answer.

  “That’s awesome,” he says. “When I was a Northie undergrad, no one gave a shit about the football team. Now you guys actually get news coverage.”

  “I guess all it took was for someone to come in and give a shit.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Boring!” Maggie says. “I want to hear about the play. Alyssa, how’s that going? Got all of your lines memorized?”

  I kick the back of her seat.

  Alyssa laughs. “About ninety percent of them, I think.”

  “Well, I cannot wait. Nate and I already have tickets for opening night.”

  I lean forward. “You know, Maggie…”

  “What, Junior?”

  “Opening night and the last game of the season are on the same night.”

  Maggie tilts her head, feigning ignorance. “Oh, really? I had no idea.”

  “There’s a show on Sunday,” I say. “You could always go to that one and come see us qualify for the championship on Saturday instead.”

  She hisses. “I mean… I would… but… I kinda already bought the tickets, so…”

  “They’re refundable. I’m sure you could get them exchanged.”

  “Nah.”

  I plop back and shake my head at Alyssa’s grin. “Nothing is more supportive than family,” I quip.

  She takes my hand, entwining our fingers.

  My heart skips.

  “Hey, you’ll have hundreds of people in the stadium and thousands of sports fans across the country watching and supporting you, little brother,” Maggie says. “Someone has to support Alyssa.”

  “Thank you, Maggie,” Alyssa says, batting her eyes at me. “I appreciate that.”

  We turn off into my neighborhood and my chest constricts. Alyssa has certainly passed Maggie’s test, but getting her to survive against my mother is another feat entirely.

  “We’re here!” Maggie says. She slams hard on the brake in the driveway for no purpose other than to jolt the car a little.

  I watch Alyssa’s expression as she takes in the street with interest. Contrary to what I told her last night, I can’t tell what she’s thinking now. Her face is blank, betraying nothing inside.

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans as we step onto the porch.

  Maggie barrels on inside, loudly announcing our arrival with Nate following close behind her.

  “Ally.” I slip my fingers around her arm. “We can run.”

  “Run?” she asks.

  “Run away. Now. Right now. We can just—“ I extend an arm down the street. “Bolt.”

  Alyssa smiles. She pops up onto her heels and pecks my cheek. “Relax,” she says. “It’s going to be fine.”

  The imprint of her lips spreads across my face and tingles all the way to my toes. Well, if she’s sure, then I guess I am, too. Maybe.

  I take her hand and lead her inside.

  My mother has joined Maggie and Nate in the foyer. She’s pinching Nate’s cheeks, both of them grinning as she blesses him with their special greeting. Mom has loved Nate since the moment she met him, but I think she’s just thankful that there was actually a man in this world patient enough to put up with her daughter’s sass.

  Her eyes catch Alyssa's and she instantly drops her hands.

  “Mom.” I gesture to my right. “This is Alyssa.”

  Alyssa throws on the sweetest smile in her toolbox. “Hello,” she says with a quick wave.

  My mother stares as if Alyssa just spoke some alien space language.

  “Roy!” she cries out my father’s name.

  I squeeze Alyssa’s hand even tighter.

  “What is it, Bonnie?”

  His voice travels from the living room across the house. I picture him now, sitting in his chair with his gaze glued to the game on TV.

  My mother’s voice pitches higher with each word. “Is this a friend of yours, or…?”

  “Yes, Mom,” I answer. “She’s a friend of mine. Maggie invited her to come along today.”

  I fire a quick glance at my sister. She grins at me from the hallway by the kitchen.

  Alyssa drops my hand and steps forward, taking complete control of the moment with a confident stride. “It’s nice to meet you,” she says. “Happy birthday.”

  My mother shakes Alyssa’s hand, her smile spreading slowly across her face.

  “Roy!” she calls again. “Get in here. Now.”

  “Why?” he shouts back.

  “Come and meet Alyssa, a friend of Junior’s.”

  I hear the shift of his recliner closing.

  Mom’s attention twists toward me. “I really wish you’d told us you were bringing company, honey. I would have cleaned up a bit more.”

  Alyssa waves a hand. “Oh, no. It looks great. You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Morgan.”

  I blink, probably way more impressed with her than my mother is. Alyssa is a damn champion at this. I breathe a little easier as my father finally makes an appearance from the living room.

  “Roy,” my mother says, “this is Alyssa.”

  My father peels his glasses off his nose while my mother slides her hand over his shoulders to flatten out the non-existent wrinkles in his shirt. He narrows his eyes for a moment, looking Alyssa up and down as Mom gives her another scan as well. I’m almost tempted to hide her under a damn sheet. It sure would be nice if they’d stop staring at her like a damn leper.

  Alyssa extends her hand toward my father. “I’m sorry if we’re interrupting your game, Mr. Morgan.”

  My mother slaps his arm. “Oh, he doesn’t mind at all. Right, Roy?”

  He curiously shakes Alyssa’s hand. “Not at all,” he says.

  Maggie slides in from the kitchen. “Isn’t she pretty?”

  I glare at my sister, fighting the childish urge to shove her down the stairs or yank her hair out.

  “She’s very pretty,” my father agrees.

  “So pretty!” my mother adds.

  “Guys…” Blood burns my cheeks. “Come on. Don’t embarrass her.”

  But Alyssa just grins. “Thank you very much.”

  Maggie opens her mouth again, and I cringe with fear. “Alyssa’s dad is the new football coach.”

  Their faces drop cold.

  “Your father is Cary Pierce?” my mother asks.

  Alyssa nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

  If she was a leper before, then right now, she’s a leper with three heads and each one of them has a pierced nose.

  My father says nothing. He just flashes a quick nod of approval at me, so I guess Alyssa passed with him.

  My mother, on the other hand, shifts between an expression of seasickness and abject terror.

  Cary Pierce’s daughter is in her house and she didn’t know she was coming.

  Her fiery stare falls on me.

  This is my fault, obviously.

  “So, who’s playing today?” Alyssa asks my father.

  I furrow my brow, knowing that Alyssa doesn’t give two shits about football, but her face feigns great interest.

  “New York and Dallas,” he answers.

  “Oh, what’s the score?”

  “You know…” my mother says, “if you’d all like to watch the game for a while, lun
ch won’t be ready for another twenty minutes.”

  “I’d love to,” Alyssa says.

  And then, I realize… Alyssa baited my mother, giving her the perfect excuse to isolate her location while she worked like a damn bee to get the rest of the house in top condition for her guest.

  She’s a fucking champion.

  Alyssa follows my father into the living room. I move to follow, but Mom grabs my arm before I can pass.

  “Kitchen. Now.”

  I fire another hateful glance at Maggie’s amused grin before dragging my feet into the kitchen.

  CHAPTER 38

  ALYSSA

  “So, how long have you been dating my son?”

  Junior sighs. “Mom.”

  “What? Is that not an appropriate question?”

  The entire Morgan family stares at us from around the dining room table and I feel more on display than the fancy centerpiece Bonnie obviously pulled out from the back of the closet. It’s a sea of brown hair and brown eyes. Sharp cheekbones and strong chins. Maggie and her mother could pass as sisters, but it’ll take Junior about twenty years to catch up to his father’s wrinkles.

  “Not too long,” I say with a shrug. “But I’ve been tutoring him in geometry since the start of the semester.”

  Bonnie looks at Junior. “I didn’t know you had a tutor, honey.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I needed to get my grade up a little.”

  Roy furrows his brow. “You weren’t in any academic trouble, were you?”

  “No, Dad. I wasn’t… I just needed someone to help me study. That’s all.”

  Bonnie points her fork at him. “Get that grade up and keep it up. It’s just as important as football.”

  “I know, Mom,” Junior answers through clenched teeth.

  “I don’t want you flunking out before graduation,” she says. “My baby is going pro!”

  I laugh. “I can confirm that Junior has made excellent progress. You don’t have to worry about him flunking out. I won’t let that happen.”

  Bonnie grins at me, her eyes bright and accepting. I guess I haven’t lost my touch. “And you… he’s never said a word about you at all.”

  “There’s nothing to say, really.”

  “Well, you’ve clearly been a good influence on him.”

  I smile. “It’s nothing he didn’t already have in him. All Junior really needed was the right incentive.”

  Junior chokes on his water.

  “For heaven’s sake, Junior,” Bonnie snaps at him. “Chew your food.” I look over to find him glaring at me. “One thing’s for sure, I need to call up that coach.”

  Junior swivels his head toward her. “Why?”

  “To thank him, of course! I’m not one to speak ill of the dead, but if that old man who ran the team before didn’t keel over, Cary Pierce wouldn’t be here and you wouldn’t be on your way to the championship. And if he weren’t here, Alyssa wouldn’t be, either. If you ask me, we owe the Pierces a great deal of gratitude.”

  He shakes his head. “No, Mom. Really. Don’t call him.”

  “Yeah,” I say, keeping my cool better than he is. “I’d be more than happy to pass on any message you have.”

  Maggie flashes us a knowing wink. “Don’t bother the guy, Mom. Remember when you harassed one of my professors after he wrote me that recommendation letter?”

  “I did not harass Professor Shelton,” Bonnie says. “And that was completely different. That recommendation letter got you into graduate school!”

  “Being a badass got me into graduate school. The recommendation letter was a formality.”

  Bonnie sighs. “Well, I can’t help it if I appreciate those who help my children. Your father and I did the best we could to provide you two with every opportunity, but we couldn’t give you everything. Cary Pierce has changed Junior’s life for the better and if we keep our heads up and minimize mistakes, then nothing can stop him from achieving his dreams.”

  My gut lurches.

  Junior laughs. “Damn, Mom! Maybe you should coach the football team. You certainly have the motivational speeches down.”

  She smirks. “I may have applied for the job.”

  I pick up the napkin from my lap as I slide out of my chair. “Excuse me. Where is your restroom?”

  Bonnie points. “We’re having the one on this floor redone, but the one upstairs is fine. Up the stairs and to the right.”

  “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

  “Redone?” I hear Maggie quip as I leave the room. “Since when do we have rooms redone?”

  I head up the stairs, and the voices dim into whispers behind me.

  The bathroom is just where Bonnie said it would be. I sneak inside to dab a bit of cold water on my forehead. I hold my hair to the side and let a little drip onto the back of my neck, cooling myself down as I hold my breath.

  So, this is Junior Morgan’s family.

  Honestly, I never pictured it before. I knew he had a sister — he mentions Maggie about once a week — but other than that, he doesn’t talk about them. I don’t like to talk about my own much, so I never thought to ask.

  And now his mother sees me as the Messiah’s beautiful daughter, sent down from heaven above to make all her baby boy’s dreams come true.

  Oops.

  I check myself in the mirror, giving myself a quick pep-talk glance before stepping out into the hallway. As I turn toward the stairwell, my eyes catch the small faux license plate attached to the door across the bathroom.

  JUNIOR, it reads.

  Curiosity takes over. I twist the doorknob and silently let myself in.

  His room is decorated black and blue with enough posters on the walls to cover up most of the white paint. Sports trophies line a shelf with medals and certificates flashing Junior’s name, most of them in gold.

  I smile at a photo above his bed showing a pre-teen boy flexing in swim trunks over his big sister’s teenage head. No real muscle mass. No fraternity tattoo. Just little Junior Morgan before he became who he is now.

  “Ally?”

  I spin around as Junior pokes his head into the room. “Oh, hey. I was just…”

  He inches toward me with suspicious eyes and nervous pink cheeks. “Snooping?”

  “Snooping.” I shrug, glancing around again. He flips the picture frame down while I’m not looking. I pretend not to notice. “Sorry. I know I’m invading your privacy here, but I just needed a little break. You know?”

  He laughs. “Oh, I know. It’s all right. I honestly don’t remember most of what’s left in here.”

  I scan the walls again. My focus lands on a familiar face above his shoulder. It’s an old poster of my father looking poised and strong in his jersey, holding a football and winking right at the camera.

  “Even that?” I point.

  Junior follows my gaze. “Oh.” He winces. “No, I remember that. I’ve had that for a decade, at least.”

  “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said he was your hero.”

  “I really wasn’t.” He blinks at me and smiles. “So, who the hell are you because you are amazing.”

  I laugh. “I make a decent first impression.”

  “No shit.”

  “I, uh…” I pause, searching for the best way to explain it. “I used to spend a lot of time at other people’s houses.”

  Junior says nothing. He listens.

  “Friends. Neighbors. Mostly,” I continue. “My father was nonexistent. My mother often disappeared for days at a time. She’d leave me some money — a little chunk from the child support — and take off until the rest of it ran out. Eventually, she got sick of coming back to check on me, so she put me into boarding school. I saw her about once a month. Maybe.”

  His mouth opens and closes. “Oh.”

  “People noticed. They’d take me in until she got back. I never wanted to be a burden on anybody. I always felt like one, though.” Junior stays quiet. I think to shut up, but the words just keep spilling out. �
��I was that Pierce girl, once again taking up space in places where I didn’t belong, but I did chores, I helped make meals, and I worked hard to earn my keep wherever I stayed. I learned a lot about manners and making a good impression from the grateful mothers of my friends.”

  “Wow,” he says, his eyes soft on me.

  “Couple that with a natural acting ability and you have the perfect girl to bring home to your parents.”

  He chuckles. “I’m sorry about her, by the way, she can be…”

  “Like Maggie?”

  “Maggie 2.0.”

  I laugh. “They’re great. Really great.”

  He steps forward, studying my eyes a little closer. I realize I’ve dropped my guard and I look away.

  “What is it?” he asks.

  I bite my cheek, hesitating to say anything, but I’ve already started the avalanche of weight falling off my chest.

  “I’ve always wanted a family like this,” I say, my voice low.

  “Like what?”

  “Boring.”

  Junior scoffs, feigning some fake offense with his hand on his chest. “You think we’re boring?”

  “You know what I mean.” I rub my palms together. “Normal. Your parents love each other. They’re still together. You have a sister and you get along. Birthday cards and Christmas cookies.”

  He gives a short nod. “I don’t know if we’re normal anymore, honestly. My family could easily be weird to most others.”

  “Well, it seems a hell of a lot better than having a famous dad you barely see or a mom who couldn’t even remember whether you’re allergic to peanuts or penicillin.”

  “You’re allergic to peanuts?”

  “Penicillin.”

  “Noted.” He smiles. “Come on, Ally, look around. You grew up in New York going to fancy boarding schools. All we ever had was each other.”

  “You were wealthier than I was, Junior.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  I take a step back, hoping it’ll hide the river of tears just begging to fall from my eyes. Years of repressed thoughts and emotions build up in my chest, but I fight the hormones down. This isn’t the time or the place for it. The last thing I want to do is get emotional in front of Junior. We’ve been exclusive for less than a day, for fuck’s sake, and yet…