Win Big: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Bella Love-Wins

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t act all innocent, you pig. You went around telling people I was a virgin, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you told them you’d be the first one to score with me. For Christ’s sake, Evan…how could you do that?”

  He turned white as a sheet. “Let me explain.”

  “Don’t even bother.”

  “Samantha, please. It didn’t go down like that.”

  “That’s the Evan I know, thinking you have the right to explain yourself. You have no right to do anything. I can’t believe I trusted you! I should have known better.”

  I heard the quiver in my voice. If I didn’t end this conversation right now, I’d end up screaming and ugly-crying right here outside the emergency room.

  “Would you please listen to me?” He put a hand on my shoulder, but I shook him off.

  “Don’t you touch me!” I spat, turning to go back inside.

  “Please, you don’t get it.”

  “I get it just fine. I was an idiot to think I could trust you. You probably fucked a bunch of women while we were sleeping together too, didn’t you?”

  His composure change then. I must have hit a nerve. He was angry now. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, and how fucking dare you? You don’t know shit about what I did or didn’t do. For the record, I haven’t slept with anyone but you since I got injured… but you know what? Believe whatever the fuck you want.”

  I didn’t get another word in. He stormed off toward his car, and did not hazard a glance back to me. A bitter, vile pit formed in my stomach. I returned inside and sat next to Kristy.

  “Everything okay?” She did a full ninety-degree rotation in her chair to look at me when she noticed my hands were shaking. “God, Sam, what just happened?”

  She wrapped her arms around me, and I rested my head on her shoulder, dazed and anesthetized again.

  26

  Samantha

  Two Months Later

  The semester was over.

  My coursework was done, exams were behind me, and in two days, I would move all my belongings out of the dorm room that I’d called home for four years. I was moving back home for a while. I’d spend two long months on the student team for the baseball players, and although I’d found it to be rewarding work, I was not sure of anything anymore. No teams had approached me and I had no job interview prospects.

  Not one.

  What a catastrophic place to be upon graduating.

  On top of that, Evan and I had not spoken. I didn’t reach out to him. He didn’t contact me, either. I could thank Austin for that small perk, because after the night he attacked me, I changed my phone number when I replaced my phone. Evan could have gotten my number if he really wanted it. It wasn’t like I’d fallen off the face of the earth. I took that as confirmation that he really was just in it to score with me and nothing more. Kristy had mentioned a few times that she believed Evan was leaving the ball in my court, and did not want to pick up where Austin left off with the constant calls, texts and unannounced visits. Fair enough.

  On the topic of Austin, he also kept his distance after that night. He was not charged by the police. I never understood why, but I was relieved that he had stopped. I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth to question the end of his stalking and harassment. The ordeal was a wakeup call, though. Soon after it happened, I made a habit of carrying pepper spray in my purse, and a whistle on my car keys. Kristy was still trying to convince me to go to weapons training with her. She was one tough chick underneath that Barbie-looking exterior, and had admitted to me she actually had an open carry weapons license. After Austin, I could understand why.

  I saw Evan around the athletic center from time to time. We never made eye contact, and we never acknowledged each other. In a way, we had returned to the way our lives were before the circumstances around his injury pushed us together. Although I was hurting over it for a while, I didn’t wallow in heartbreak. I gave myself a talking-to, rationalizing that it was for the best, and he would have hurt me more deeply if we had spent any more time together. That was the upside of sleeping with an arrogant, smart-mouthed jock. There were oodles of fodder I could draw from to strengthen my resolve about why it could never work.

  Obsession with porn.

  Addiction to all things kinky.

  Trash-talking smartass.

  Arrogant jock.

  Bad boy. With stress on the boy.

  I could go on ad infinitum.

  Draft weekend loomed and it arrived before I knew it. Evan was in Chicago. Half the school went to the airport to give him and the other four NFL hopefuls a big sendoff.

  I was not one of them.

  Still, I ended up watching the first evening of the draft with Kristy.

  “I thought you hated football,” Kristy demurred, passing me a beer.

  “I did. I do. You’re the one who twisted my arm to watch with you, missy. Or have you forgotten?”

  She stepped around to continue folding the pile of clothes on her bed, and snorted behind me. “Twisted your arm? Ha! I get the feeling you’ll be rooting for a certain wide receiver rumored to be a top ten pick.”

  I rolled my eyes. I didn’t turn to look at her. “Whatever you want to believe.”

  “You’re forgetting something, honey.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve known you forever. Try all you want to ignore that you and Evan had something real. I’m not buying it. And another thing… there’s still hope for you two.”

  “Says you,” I muttered.

  She sat beside me in my bed, stretching out her legs until her feet were on my lap. “Why won’t you talk about it?”

  “Care to talk about you and Mo?”

  That shut her up for a beat. “This conversation is not about me right now,” she retorted. “It’s about you getting alarmingly close to walking away from something special.” She play-punched my arm. “Jeez, will you look at me?”

  I turned to her and scowled. “We’re not having this discussion, Kristy. Besides, it’s already too late. Evan’s moved on.”

  “No he hasn’t. The way he felt about you? I doubt it, honey.”

  “Well, I’ve moved on. We’re about to watch the first-round picks. Evan may be one of them. Do you know what that means? He can be heading to Timbuctoo before the night is out. Even if we wanted to be together, we can’t. And I don’t want to, anyway. You said it yourself. Evan is bad news, okay? Been there, done that, got the ‘Virgin No More’ t-shirt, and let him pull one over on me. I rode that mechanical bull, and now I’m fresh out of quarters. End of story.”

  She grunted out a laugh. “You’re still in love with him, and he’s all sorts of broken up about you.”

  “And you have way too much time on your hands. Aren’t you busy enough, planning that trip to France?”

  “Don’t change the subject again.”

  “It’s our last couple of nights together as roommates, Kristy. Can we spend it reminiscing, or something other than talking about Evan Marshall?” I pointed at the TV. “Look. It’s starting. The place is packed.”

  “Dammit… Okay, I’ll get the popcorn.”

  She hurried out of our room to get to the microwave down the hall, and was back a minute later. “I think we’re the last two residents still on the floor.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Most people are packed up the night before their last exam. Remind me why we chose to stick around again?”

  “It’s simple,” she answered, flashing me a playful smile. “We’re watching the reason on TV right now.”

  Once the introductions and inspirational soundbites were out of the way, the NFL commissioner started the ten-minute countdown for the Los Angeles Rams to select the first pick for Round One. Kristy and I were ecstatic, jumping out of our seats and acting the fool when the commissioner returned and announced that Slade had won first pick and would be headed to LA. That was historic news for our college.
I was so proud. His making the first pick was a testament to the great coaching program we had.

  My breath caught when I got my first glance Evan in the audience. Kristy and I had settled down and watched the other players from our college surround Slade, who was now the focal point of camera crews after he returned to his seat. Evan was with them. I shouldn’t have had this feeling in my stomach re-emerge, but I did. My eyes squinted to figure out who he sat with. It looked like his family, but I honestly couldn’t tell.

  The show went on, and we continued packing our things as names were called from other schools. None of our players were called for a while, but we tuned back in, watching like a hawk when they mentioned the Saints had the seventh pick. We got out of our seats and braced ourselves when the commissioner got back on stage after the time ran down.

  “History is in the making tonight, ladies and gentlemen. For the seventh pick of the 2016 NFL Draft, the New Orleans Saints have selected…Evan Marshall, wide receiver, Louisiana State!”

  Kristy bounced in the air, shaking my arm so I’d celebrate too. I stared at the screen as he got to his feet, hugged his family and teammates, and ran up on stage to get his hat. I was happy for him. All that work with him during his recovery had paid off.

  It was bitter-sweet.

  We eventually sat and watched bits and pieces of the rest of the show. About half an hour later, my phone rang. I suspected it was Evan, so I ignored it. Then it rang again.

  Kristy turned to look at me from her spot at the closet. “Are you gonna answer that or do I have to do it for you?”

  “Just ignore it.”

  “Like hell I am.” She raced over to my desk and scooped up the phone, answering on the last ring with a wide grin on her face. “Hello? Samantha’s phone. What can I do you for?” When she heard the person on the other end, she turned serious. “Oh, yes of course, Dr. Jeffries. She’s right here.”

  Christ, why was Dr. Jeffries calling? It couldn’t be good, but it was too late to have him leave a message, thanks to Kristy. I took the phone from her, and noticed she had muted the call. Good. I could tell her off, even if it was only for a second.

  “Thanks,” I said in my most snarky voice, then murmured, “Meddling bitch.”

  “I heard you and you’re welcome,” she cooed. “Oh, the other line is beeping too. You’re popular!”

  “Whatever.” Turning off the mute setting, I answered. “Hello? Dr. Jeffries?”

  “Good evening, Samantha. How are you this evening?”

  “Fine, Professor. Can I help you with something?”

  “Samantha, I take it you saw that our college has had some tremendous success tonight during the NFL Draft first round.”

  “I did. I’m still watching. It’s excellent news.”

  “Glad that you saw it. The part you may not have seen was…is that your other line beeping?”

  “Yes sir. It’s been ringing a lot since the announcement about Evan Marshall. I’m sorry if it’s a distraction. I can phone you from the dorm’s land line if you’d like.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I was saying that you didn’t see Evan’s post-acceptance interview, which is probably the catalyst for all the phone calls you’ll be receiving.”

  “Sorry, I’m not following.”

  “Evan specifically mentioned your name during an interview that’s already been airing on some of Louisiana’s TV and cable networks. He credited you with his fast recovery…which is why I’m phoning.”

  “Oh…I didn’t know…that’s great.” Boy, did Dr. Jeffries have me confused. What did that have to do with anything?

  “Samantha, we’d like to offer you a full-time position on the staff. The official title is Assistant Trainer, Athletic Therapist. If you’re available tomorrow, you can come down to my office for details.”

  “Oh my God, thank you! Sure! I can be there in the morning for sure. Thanks Dr. Jeffries.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I just wanted to get the offer in before you’re scooped up by some NFL team that makes you an offer you can’t refuse. See you tomorrow, Samantha. And great job.”

  “Thanks, professor! See you then.”

  I ended the call and turned to Kristy. “I got a job offer here at the college!”

  The phone rang again, but I muted the volume.

  “Congratulations, honey! That’s fantastic. What did he say?”

  “Crap, this phone keeps buzzing. Oh! I need you to find a local channel. Apparently Evan mentioned me an interview that’s gone viral or something.”

  “What? What did he say?”

  “I don’t know but this is why my phone’s blowing up. Before I take any more calls I want to find out what he said.”

  We couldn’t find the interview on our sorry excuse for a cable plan, so Kristy checked her phone and found it on the NFL site. “Come check it out!” She skipped ahead to about a third of the video then pressed play.

  “You’ve had quite a year,” the reporter said. “From the high of scoring that touchdown that led to the SEC win, to the lows of your unfortunate post-season injury. Tell us how you made it back to dominate at the combine.”

  “That’s easy,” Evan answered. “I had the best medical staff and great athletic therapy. The team was great, and I’d like to send special thanks to the student trainer charged with helping me almost every day for six weeks. Her name is Samantha Woodward.”

  “And she’s your athletic therapist?”

  “She was. That and more…Miss Woodward… she knew how to help me right from the start. As a trainer and therapist, she is competent and compassionate. She worked hard to get me here, pushing me through the pain early on, encouraging me to keep my head in the game, and helped me to finish strong at least ten days before I got to the combine. I wouldn’t have made it there without her. I doubt I’d be seventh pick, either. So Samantha, if you’re listening, thank you for making the best of a tough situation, putting up with my attitude and most of all, thanks for enduring the sacrifices you had to make, having your plans to help major league baseball candidates on hold to help me get here. I owe you.”

  “She sounds like a talented professional.”

  “Yeah. She is all that and more.”

  Wow.

  I just had my world shaken for the second time in less than half hour.

  Kristy put her phone down and tapped me on the shoulder. “You know what this means, right?”

  “Um, not quite.” I was in a whirlwind already from Dr. Jeffries’ phone call. This took me to a bumbling, near-catatonic state.

  She got up and picked up my phone again, answering it when it buzzed for the ninth or tenth time since I’d hung up with Dr. Jeffries. “Hello? This is Miss Samantha Woodward’s assistant. How can I help you?” She paused and listened. I would have made a fuss about it, but I could barely think straight. “Oh? You’re on the Atlanta Falcons management? Miss Woodward is in a meeting at the moment. Can she phone you tomorrow?” She looked over at me and nodded, grabbing a pen and notepad to take the person’s name. “Excellent. Thank you. Goodbye.”

  Before she could say two words to me, the phone buzzed again. “What this means is you get to choose your next move, but I hope you’ll give Evan another chance.” she said to me. “You can thank your assistant with the cheerful voice later.” She was too happy about this. Why was she not flabbergasted, or at least a little stunned? Kristy took a breath and pressed the call answer button to take the next call. And the next. And the next.

  An hour later, she had fielded eight calls from NFL management staff, and six from major league baseball teams. She passed the phone to me. “Okay. My office hours are over, hun, unless you pay overtime.”

  I gave her a weak smile, still looking down at the phone screen. “Thanks for taking care of these calls for me, Kristy. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll call them back tomorrow.”

  “No biggie. You’d do the same for me. Please tell me you’ll call Evan now…or at least text him. I will if you don’t.
”

  “You don’t have his number, and it’s not in this new phone.”

  “As if. Girl, you’ve forgotten who you’re dealing with. Check the bottom of that notepad I just slaved over for you.”

  My eyes fell to the page, and then I saw it. “Evan phoned?”

  “Of course. You think he would practically champion your career in that interview and then not phone? Call him. Or send him a text. Just do it now.”

  Should I call him? I didn’t have the wherewithal to say the right things. Caving at Kristy’s insistence, I sent a short message, firing it off quickly so I didn’t lose my nerve.

  ‘Thank you. That was sweet of you.’

  He came back with, ‘It’s about time .’

  ‘You could have phoned.’

  ‘No. Didn’t make sense.’

  ‘Congrats on the Saints draft. I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks. Hey. I’m sorry. I was a jackass, but you already knew that.’

  ‘I’m sorry too. When are you back in town?’

  ‘Not sure. Probably in a few days. I’m sticking around to see where Mo ends up.’

  It hit me that Mo wasn’t called during tonight’s first round. Kristy had to be stressed, but as usual, she put up a good front.

  ‘Oh okay. Maybe I’ll see you next week?’

  ‘Definitely. We need to talk in person. I want to see you.’

  ‘Okay, sure.’

  ‘I missed you.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Okay gotta go. See you soon.’

  I smiled through joyful tears when I put the phone down. The heaviness I’d been carrying around for two months lifted off my chest, allowing me to finally breathe.

  27

  Epilogue - Evan

  Twenty Months Later

  Samantha said yes!

  It was a long time coming. My mouth had gotten me in trouble and made things dicey for us a few times, but Samantha Woodward just accepted my marriage proposal in the presence of friends and loved one at my family’s Christmas party. Watching her as she gazed down at the ring I just put on her finger made it all worthwhile.