Second Chance Draft: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Pass To Win Book 6)

by Roxy Sinclaire

  I looked in the mirror. I looked horrendous. Makeup was smeared all over my face and my hair was a tangled mess. I couldn’t walk back to my dorm like this, people would see. I took off my clothes and stepped into his shower.

  I heard a knock on the door.

  “Alexa, open the door. I don’t think you understand.”

  I understood, all right. These guys were all the same. They act all sweet and kind, but they only want one thing. I felt stupid. I’d been in similar situations before, but with guys who meant nothing to me. I was starting to think I could really trust him.

  I squeezed a small dollop of his body wash in my hand and rubbed on the sticky spots on my body. Someone must have spilled a sugary drink on me. The smell gave me instant flashbacks to resting my head on his chest.

  I rinsed it off, but the smell stuck in my brain. I stuck my face under the running water for a few minutes, hoping the steam would help the alcohol seep out of my body.

  When I got out of the shower and looked in the mirror, I looked just as bad as when I got in.

  My makeup had melted in the shower and my hair was more matted. I found a single clean washcloth and scrubbed at my face until I looked more human and less raccoon-like.

  After some searching, I found a cheap plastic comb and began working on my hair. Once it was smooth down to the nape of my neck, I gathered the rest of the poofy mess up, and tied it back with the hair tie I kept on my wrist. I still looked rough, but good enough for walking home without creating a scene.

  I felt lightheaded and sat down on the edge of the tub. I cupped a few handfuls of cool water from the sink and sipped. I didn’t want to go back out into the bedroom. I couldn’t face him after what he did to me. Once again, I was embarrassed. Not for drinking too much, but for being vulnerable. I hated not being in control. I steadied myself, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

  To my surprise, the room was empty. In the spot where I had slept was a plate of toast and bacon. There was a sports drink on the bedside table. The thought of eating anything repulsed me, but I knew it was the best way to get over a hangover.

  Maybe it would give me the energy to walk back to my dorm. I nibbled at the toast, drying my mouth to the point where I could hardly swallow. I cracked open the drink and took a few small sips. I paused, waiting to make sure it would stay down. When it did, it took a few more slow, small bites.

  I was about halfway done with my plate when Martin entered the room. So much for a stealthy exit.

  “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.

  “I don’t know what your confusion is. You aren’t the one who doesn’t remember anything,” I fired back.

  “I can tell you everything about last night, if you’ll just listen to me.”

  “Sure, I bet you’ll twist facts so you come off as the hero again.”

  “What do you think happened?” he asked, looking hurt.

  “I woke up in your bed, and both of us were practically naked. I don’t remember anything, so that means I was extremely drunk. I think I can put two and two together.”

  “Never go into detective work,” he scowled. “Would you like me to tell you what really happened?”

  I was silent. I didn’t really want to hear it. I grabbed my shoes and purse and tried the door handle. It was locked.

  “This is sick,” I yelled. “Locking me in here, for what?”

  “I didn’t lock it,” he said, genuinely confused.

  He tried opening the door, but there was something in the way. He called Reg on his cell and ask him to help us.

  “There’s something wrong with my door, Reg. Can you try to open it from the outside?” he asked.

  “Well, um,” Reg stuttered. “We kinda barricaded the door.”

  “You what?”

  Reg hung up and I heard Sasha’s voice booming from the other side of the door.

  “We’ve all had enough of your bickering. It’s time you work things out. When everything is fixed, we’ll let you out.”

  I was furious. I just wanted to go home and nurse this hangover in peace and quiet.

  “Now that we’re stuck here,” he said a little softer. “I’m going to tell you the facts. You got really drunk and came onto me. Don’t get me wrong; I was thrilled when you motioned me into my room.

  We kissed, but I could tell that you were too drunk to do anything else. You took off my shirt and then you took off your own clothes. I was going to try to sober you up, but you passed out. That’s it.”

  “If that’s everything that happened,” I started. “Then how can you call it ‘one of the best nights of your life’?”

  He blushed.

  “It’s not often that you get to share your bed with the captain of the cheerleading team.”

  I scoffed and pounded on the door. “We figured things out,” I yelled to the door. “I figured out that Martin is an ass. You can let me out now.”

  “Nice try,” Sasha answered. “The fact that we can still hear shouting isn’t a good sign.”

  I stomped back over to the bed and finished my cold breakfast. I was starting to feel a little better physically, but I was still in a horrendous mood.

  “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this,” he said to me.

  “Like what?”

  “You’re so incredibly stubborn. Why can’t we discuss this like rational human beings?”

  “Because nothing I say ever matters,” I retorted.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “Maybe when I get out, you’ll be ready to talk about this.”

  “We’ll see,” I mumbled under my breath. There was nothing more to talk about. I tried to be friends with him, and this is what I got. I was locked in a room with a guy that continued to cause problems for me. I wanted out, out of this room, out of this “friendship”, out from under my parent’s control.

  Since there was nothing else for me to do with Martin in the bathroom, I slid under the covers to rest my eyes. I just wanted a few minutes of darkness and silence so I could think.

  Martin

  When I got into the bathroom, I sat on the edge of the tub and pulled out my phone. I needed to talk to someone with experience in girl problems, but I didn’t want Alexa to hear me. I sent a text to Sam:

  Things are really weird with Alexa. She’s mad at me for no reason. What should I do?

  I could see him typing almost immediately.

  I heard all about it. You have to work things out. All couples fight every now and again. It’s normal.

  Word spreads quickly.

  We’re not a couple. She hates me and there’s nothing I can say to make it better.

  Do you like her? he asked.

  Of course I do.

  Make sure she knows it. Keep me updated.

  I set my phone down on the counter next to a wadded up washcloth covered in pink, black, and tan stains. It was rare to see a cheerleader without makeup. Her eyes looked so soft and tired, and light freckles that I didn’t even know were there dotted her nose and cheeks.

  I turned on the shower and got in, standing motionless as I let the cool water wash over my body. Think, I urged myself. What should I say to convince her to trust me?

  I thought about a job interview that I had years ago. The interviewer asked me how I convince people that I’m trustworthy. I had never thought about it before. I told her that I don’t have to use my words, because people could look at my past actions and just know that I was trustworthy.

  I then thought about my past with Alexa. For years, I had teased her and pulled stupid pranks. I didn’t do it out of malice; I guess I wanted to have a reason to interact with her. It made sense why she didn’t trust me.

  I never gave her a good reason to. If I couldn’t show her that she could trust me, I would have to convince her with my words.

  I toweled off and chose a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans from the closet. I had forgotten the way a hot shower and a clean change of clothes could gi
ve me a fresh outlook on life. I was ready to talk. I hoped she would be, too.

  I opened the bathroom door, ready to start my speech, just to find her curled up in bed, asleep.

  I chuckled. Typical Alexa. If she couldn’t win an argument, then she’d just sleep through it. I would have joined her, but I slept great and didn’t want her to panic if she woke up next to me again. I tried the door again, but it was still locked.

  I sat down at my desk and did a little studying. I had a test the next day, but I already accepted the fact that I wouldn’t do very well. I had been too distracted lately to pay attention in class. I was reading about different survey research techniques when my phone buzzed.

  I don’t hear any talking, Sasha’s text read.

  She fell asleep while I took a shower, so I’m enjoying the quiet, I responded.

  I hope you like being locked in your room, because you’re not leaving.

  That’s fine. I am getting hungry, though. Send some food when you can, I responded sarcastically.

  A few minutes later, I heard the door rattle. I got up, thinking I could wedge my way out, but before I got halfway across the room, a plate slid in and the door slammed shut.

  “Nice try,” a muffled voice said from the other side.

  There were two sandwiches and a bunch of chips on the plate. They tossed in two cans of soda, too. It was a nice gesture, or would have been if they hadn’t locked us in here against our will.

  I checked to see if all of the commotion woke Alexa up. It didn’t. I held my hand in front of her face, just to make sure she was still breathing. Her breath was hot and moist on the back of my hand.

  I resumed my studies, quietly snacking on the chips. If she didn’t wake up soon, there would be nothing left for her to eat. After a while, I was starting to get bored. Shaking her awake seemed like a bad idea. After all, I was hoping the nap would calm her down. I tried to make some light noise, hoping that would prompt her to wake up “on her own”.

  Slamming my book shut, rustling papers, and opening my pop can didn’t work. I sighed dramatically, rolled my desk chair across the floor, and crunched on potato chips. Nothing. Finally, I coughed loudly, and she stirred.

  “How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

  I checked my phone. “About five hours,” I joked.

  “Five hours?” she shouted. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I’m kidding. It’s only been about an hour. It’s eleven o’clock.” I should know better to joke around at a time like this, but I couldn’t help myself.

  She frowned. “Is the door still locked?”

  “Yep, but Sasha was so kind as to make us sandwiches.” I handed the plate over to her. I wasn’t about to tell her there were once chips for her too.

  “Are you feeling better?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I’m just not pleased that we’re still in this room.”

  “Me neither. I think Sasha’s been listening from the other side of the door. She knows you were sleeping.”

  “I’m not surprised. She can be so nosy sometimes,” she said loud enough that Sasha could hear.

  “So,” I said. “Should we talk this out so we can get out of here?”

  “Go ahead,” she replied. “This is all your fault, so you can do your best to patch it all up.”

  “My fault?” I asked. “How do you figure?”

  “We already made the decision that we would be friends. Last time I checked, friends don’t sleep naked in the same bed.”

  “If that’s the case, that ruins a lot of the football players’ fantasies about you and your friends,” I said under my breath.

  “I’m being serious,” she said.

  “You put the moves on me, though,” I added. “Let’s not forget that detail.”

  “I was drunk. You said I was so drunk that you wouldn’t have sex with me. Why didn’t you just kick me out or send me home?”

  “I wanted to have sex with you. I thought you would sober up and still want to be with me.”

  “Obviously not,” she said, coolly.

  “It was your choice to take off our clothes.”

  “I was wasted. You can’t hold me accountable for my actions.”

  “Why not?” I questioned. “I don’t believe that alcohol turns you into someone you’re not. It lowers your inhibitions, yes. But I don’t think it can suddenly make you do something you don’t have any interest in doing.”

  “So I shouldn’t blame you for this predicament we’re in?” she asked.

  “No, and in fact, I blame you,” I said. “I didn’t make you do anything, Alexa. You’re mad at me for not knowing exactly what you want. One day you say you want to be friends, and the next, you’re flirting with me and taking my clothes off. It’s confusing, and I don’t think it’s fair to me.”

  She looked at the floor, silent.

  “I’m starting to feel like this is some big prank,” I continued. “I feel like you’re trying to make me fall in love with you, just to yank it all away at the last second.”

  The more I thought about it, the more it seemed true. Maybe she was just using me. She kept leading me on, just to get upset with me when I wanted her. She could get blackout drunk and act however she wanted, only if I was there to blame for her bad decisions in the morning. I texted Reg:

  This isn’t funny anymore. I want out.

  Alexa

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did he really think I was so terrible that I would lead him on, on purpose? If that happened, it was purely unintentional. Guys weren’t supposed to act this way. Guys were the ones who flirted and told girls that they liked us. You have one nice night with them, and the next thing you know, they’re on to the next one.

  For the most part, football guys just wanted to have sex with as many girls as they could. They conquer one, tell all of their friends, and hunt for the next hot girl. Especially guys like Martin.

  “Do you remember when we first met freshman year?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it was before school even started. We were both at practice. Why?”

  “I told the cheer girls that I thought you were cute. I wanted to talk to you, but I was too shy. They convinced me to write my phone number on a piece of paper and slip it into your locker. Do you remember what happened next?”

  “Uh,” he cringed. “I don’t remember.”

  “My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I got dirty texts and voicemails at all hours of the day. I had to change my phone number. Why was that?”

  “I’m sorry. Some of the upperclassmen saw it and wanted me to hand it over. I was a freshman and had to prove myself. I was a nobody. I felt bad about it, but thought you’d be okay.”

  “I wasn’t. I felt so stupid for thinking I had a chance with you.” I felt my throat getting tight.

  “A chance with me? Part of the reason I did it is because I knew that once you got to know me, you would have no interest in me.

  Girls like you don’t date guys like me. Everybody knows that. What do you think your parents would say if they saw us together?”

  I didn’t want to answer that question.

  “I think that’s why I treated you the way I did,” he said. “I wanted you around, but I had to keep you at arms length. It was easier not to want you if I reminded myself that I didn’t have a chance.”

  “You can’t say that you liked me all this time,” I interjected. “You dated lots of girls in the past four years. You even dated other cheerleaders.”

  “What do you expect?” he laughed. “Was I just supposed to stay celibate because the girl of my dreams was perpetually unavailable?”

  The girl of his dreams. I’d heard this line before from other guys, but coming from Martin, it actually sounded genuine.

  “If I’m not mistaken,” he said. “You dated plenty of people too.”

  “I guess there were a few. But to be honest, I didn’t really have feelings for any of them.”

  “Then why did you dat
e them?” he asked, doubtfully.

  “I just thought that was what I was supposed to do. A lot of guys asked me out, but I only said yes if I knew they were someone my parents would approve of.

  I’m a terrible liar. Every time I talked to my mom, she’d ask me if I was dating someone. I couldn’t date, like, the hipsters that played Frisbee outside of the dining hall and deny it. She would see through my lies instantly.”

  He nodded, but I wasn’t sure that he really understood.

  “Also, it gets lonely when everyone is coupled up and you’re the only single one. Gia and Sam have been together for ages, and Sasha always had a boyfriend. What was I supposed to do, stay home and knit?”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Did you love any of the girls you dated?” I asked.

  “Not really. I really liked a few, but there was always something missing.”

  “They probably liked waking up in the morning, naked and confused,” I said.

  “Are you still upset over this?” he asked. “What is it that gives you such mistrust of men?”

  I had never talked to anyone about this, besides Sasha. I didn’t know if I wanted to talk about it now, but he could tell that there was something I was hiding.

  “What happened?” he coaxed.

  “A few years ago, I went to the lacrosse formal with one of the seniors on the team. His parents knew my parents and my mom urged me to go. He was pretty cute, but he was kind of a douche bag. I didn’t drink a lot then, but he kept giving me drink after drink. He kept telling me to go with him to his hotel room.

  I didn’t want to go, but it was getting hard to refuse after drinking so much. I wanted him to like me, because I knew my mom would be thrilled.”

  “Did you have sex?” Martin asked, with a terrified expression on his face.

  “No, but not because he didn’t try. Luckily, the cheer captain was there and saw me trying to push him off of me. She knew he was a creep and called a cab to take me home.”

  “Oh my God.” he said, his mouth hanging open.

  “So you can understand why it’s upsetting to me when I wake up, not knowing if I had sex or not,” I continued. “I know I shouldn’t drink so much, I should know better by now. I just need to know that if I’m sleeping with someone, it’s because I want to.”