Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  I groan, laying back as she travels down my chest. She looks up at me with those perfect, blue eyes, licking her lips as she pulls at my jeans. Laughter strikes me; happy visions of her little mouth wrapped around my cock dancing in my head.

  “Damn, Eliza…” I chuckle, kicking off my shoes.

  She pulls my jeans down, sliding them all the way to my ankles, along with my briefs, leaving me completely naked on the mattress. I close my eyes, waiting patiently for the moment when her kisses travel south enough to feel her hot breath skate across my throbbing head.

  The door slides open and my heart stops.

  “What—”

  Eliza yanks the blanket out from under me, taking me by surprise as she gathers the rest of my clothes.

  “Wait—!” I lunge for her but she easily slips free and steps outside into the lot. “What the hell, Ellie?”

  “What kind of girl do you think I am?!” she snaps.

  I reach for her again but she juts backward, baiting me into following her outside. I stay back in the van, struggling to process the situation with all of my blood still throbbing through my stiff dick. “I… don’t understand the question.”

  Eliza wraps the blanket around her arm and drapes my clothes over her wrist, reaching inside my coat pocket to retrieve my keys and jiggles them at me, taunting me. “Did you think I was easy? That I’d get down on my knees after a little bit of skeeball? That I’d somehow forget how much of a narcissistic, ego-maniacal jackass you are?”

  She takes several steps backward towards the quad.

  “Ellie, what are you doing?”

  “Something I’m honestly surprised no one has ever done to you before, just Junior,” she bites, her voice growing louder with every step she takes.

  “Give me back my clothes.”

  “Come and get ‘em.”

  “Ellie!”

  She quickens her stride, tossing her hood up to conceal her face before walking directly towards the very crowded quad.

  I gesture to the blue sedan beside me. “You just going to leave your car here?”

  She twists back around to grin at me. “That’s not my car. Goodnight, Junior Morgan.”

  My chest sinks as she leaves me with nothing to cover myself with other than a few crappy pillows.

  Well, shit.

  Eliza reaches the center of the quad and drops my clothes in the grass, along with the blanket and my car keys. She abandons them, drawing a few odd looks from co-eds scattered about on the brightly-lit grass.

  I heave a sigh and grab the nearest pillow before stepping outside the van.

  Eliza fucking Pierce. Obviously, I underestimated her and overestimated my ability to seal the deal. I’ve never been above admitting when I’m wrong. It doesn’t happen often but I know when to bite that bullet. Tonight is definitely one of those times.

  The giggles start before I even reach the grass. Fingers point, girls cackle, and guys whistle at me. I throw on my sincerest shit-eating grin, owning every step of my magnificent failure before bending over to retrieve my things.

  “Lookin’ good, Morgan!”

  “Thanks!” I shout back.

  I guess that’s it. It was fun while it lasted and I mean that. Unfortunately, this little date with Eliza was the most fun I’ve had with a girl in a long time but in the end, she’s right.

  I am a jackass.

  ***

  I wake up early and hit the gym at the athletic center on campus. Needless to say, my sleep was fairly restless but a cold shower and a stiff drink knocked me out for a few hours. A quick run on the treadmill should dislodge that deep frustration in my gut for a while — at least long enough for me to forget Eliza Pierce ever existed.

  The gym is mostly deserted, as it usually is at this time of the morning. I push my earbuds in and crank some music, setting a fast pace on the treadmill before hopping on the belt and leaving my emotions behind.

  After a few minutes of forgetting Eliza, I feel someone climb onto the treadmill next to mine. I give a quick glance over from the corner of my eye and I nearly slip right off the damn belt.

  It’s Eliza.

  I pull out my earbuds and slam the button down to decrease the speed. “What are you doing here?”

  She reaches behind her and grips her ankle, pulling it back to stretch out her quadriceps. “This gym is nicer than the one at the rec center,” she simply says.

  “This gym is for athletes only,” I point out.

  “And my father is the football coach,” she shrugs, stretching her other leg. “I asked if I could work out here instead and he said yes.”

  “Go away.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want to see you around here.”

  Eliza laughs. “Oh, please. You can’t possibly be mad about last night.”

  “Actually, yes. I am.”

  “Get over it.” She turns the 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.

  What a bitch.

  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 Eliza freakin’ Pierce is running beside me in skin-tight yoga pants.

  She increases her speed, easily matching mine and a bolt of rage teases at me. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let Eliza Pierce outrun me.

  I fill my lungs with air 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.

  I sense her movement beside me and out of the corner of my eye, I see her increase her speed.

  Dammit.

  She can’t keep up with this pace for very long. Soon, her little legs with slow her down. She’s not nearly as fit as I am.

  My chest heaves. Air blows in and out of my mouth and I feel that slow burn building in my chest, the one that tells you to slow down before you hurt yourself.

  I glance over at Eliza. She’s barely broken a damn sweat.

  I tap the speed up a little higher and grit my teeth as she does the same.

  “What’s wrong, Junior?” she chuckles. Luckily, her words are labored, just barely making it out of her mouth between her thick breaths. “Having trouble?”

  “Nau-gh.”

  “Maybe you should slow down. Take it easy. It’s not a race.”

  She reaches over and pats my shoulder.

  Fuck this.

  I push the stop button and hop off the treadmill. My legs turn to jelly beneath me but I keep myself upright, sending all of my strength to my knees. The last thing I want is to humiliate myself in front of her. Again.

  I glance back at her, unable to stop myself from staring at her perfect fucking body. Blood that should be fueling my pounding heart fires downward. Images of her lying spread eagle in my van flash in my brain. Her taste emerges on my tongue; a flavor that no amount of rinsing with salt water was able to get rid of last night.

  I’ve never wanted to hate fuck a girl so badly in my entire life.

  Eliza fucking Pierce.

  I lean over the water fountain by the locker rooms and shoot the water on my face in a sincere attempt 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,” she 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 and she tugs me with her instead. My weak, jelly-filled legs follow her as she shoves the door to the ladies’ locker room open and forces me inside.

  “What are you doing?” I snap.

  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.”

  “Oh, god forbid someone sees us talking,” I mock. “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 why you asked me out in the first place was to sleep with me and get back at my father for telling you to stay away from me.”

  “Right, I was honest with you from the start,” I point out. “Some girls might consider that a good thing.”

  She pauses for a second and nods. “Okay…”

  “You know…” I shift on my feet. “For a second there, I thought you were having a good time.”

  “For a second, I was.” She takes a breath. “Junior, I grew up with a dad that 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 can do that,” I say, 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 really let loose the way I like.”

  It’s ballsy, and stupid, but I really enjoy the subtle anger boiling the oceans in her eyes right now.

  “Fine…” she says, clearing her little throat. “I guess we’re cool then.”

  “Totally cool.” I step around her and grip the door handle. “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 and forcing her forward before stepping back out into the gym.

  “Hey, Junior!”

  I freeze in my tracks and turn to see Eliza’s dad heading towards me. “Hey, Coach,” I greet.

  “Hitting the gym early — I like that,” he notes.

  “Yeah, I—”

  “Grab a towel and dry off,” he interrupts. “Meet me in my office. I have to talk to you about something.”

  Oh, shit.

  “Sure, no problem,” I say. “I’ll be right there.”

  He nods and passes me by, heading down the hall towards the offices.

  My first instinct is to go back into the ladies’ room and tell Eliza but there’s no way I can do that now. Maybe someone saw us last night and reported it to the coach. I thought the arcade would be far enough outside of town that prying eyes wouldn’t be a problem. Was I wrong? Or someone noticed us in the quad before we even left after I had the brilliant idea of shouting out her name.

  Fuck.

  A chill eases down my spine as I wipe the sweat off and make my way out into the hallway. Is this it? Am I done? Coach only had three rules and I broke the most important one.

  Stay away from my daughter.

  It was the easiest one and I couldn’t even do that because my dick often runs the entire Junior Morgan show.

  Her taste touches my tongue again and I feel even worse than before.

  “Come on in, Junior,” he tells me from the doorway. “Close the door behind you.”

  I obey and push the door closed. “What’s up, Coach?” I ask. He points to the seat across from him and I fall into it.

  “Junior, we need to talk about your future here.”

  “My future?”

  “I don’t need to ask you where you see yourself in five or ten years because I already know the answer to that,” he says. “You want to go pro, right?”

  “Absolutely,” I say without hesitation.

  “Then you need to start planning now,” he continues. “You don’t want something completely avoidable to get in the way of that. I took the liberty of speaking to your academic adviser and she had a few concerns about your grades.”

  “Yeah…” I wince but breathe a little easier. I don’t think Eliza moaning in my van is about to come up in this conversation. “Studying hasn’t always been my strongest area.”

  “Mine neither — but if they get any worse, you’ll get put on academic probation and you don’t want that during your senior year. That’s when you really need to focus on the game. Senior year means scouts and drafts and honestly, of every player on this team, you have the best shot of any of them.”

  Whoa.

  Cary Pierce thinks I can go pro. He said it to my face.

  “That’s… thank you.”

  He smiles. “You and I came from the same world — dirt poor, no opportunity — 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 a bit younger than you, I screwed up big. I got horrible grades, I wasn’t taking care of myself, and I…” he shakes his head, “I knocked up a girl I barely knew. I got Eliza 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 Eliza but who am I to argue with Cary Pierce? “Right…”

  He pounds a fist on his desk. “Straighten up and get focused. Hire a tutor if you have to to bring those grades up. 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 stand up and my knees feel even more wobbly than they did after that treadmill.

  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 want. I’ll get the contracts and the fame and the women. Everything beyond my wildest dreams will be in the palm of my hand.

  I just have to stay focused and forget about distractions.

  Distractions like Eliza Pierce.

  Chapter 8

  Eliza

  “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 sigh with impatience and 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?” he asks.

  “Most of them, probably.” I shrug. “Why?”

  “Uhh… strapping young men in suits. You have to take me with you.”

  “You don’t want to go to this, Grant,” I chuckle. “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?”

  “Shhh.” I look around to make sure no one heard that.

  “What’d he do?”

  “He said some shit that kinda ticked me off this morning, that’s all.”

  “This morning, eh?” he winks.r />
  “I ran into him at the gym,” I explain. “We didn’t spend the night together if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “What happened on your date?”

  I cringe. “Long story.”

  “Then what kind of shit did he say this morning? You gotta give me something…”

  The kind of shit that makes me a hypocrite for getting mad at.

  One moment, I’m telling him to shift his focus to other women and the next, I feel dejected when he actually does. I hate myself for it.

  I sigh and gesture with the script. “We should really memorize this scene.”

  “Okay, fine, just one question: Do I need to kick his ass?” Grant offers, drawing a quick laugh from me. “Because I can and I will.”

  “No ass-kicking needed, but thank you. I can handle it.”

  “Good. But seriously, can I please come to your house tonight?” he begs. “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,” I tell him. “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 curve with perfect form.

  And then it hits me. Sweet revenge. That’s what this is.

  Junior told me he wasn’t interested in me anymore; that I was more trouble than I’m worth. Getting passed aside shouldn’t be such a shock to me anymore but for some reason, coming from him, it stung. It cut deep — even deeper than feeling like my father’s accessory.