Dirty Saint: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by Vesper Vaughn

She trembles against me and I know she’s close.

  So am I.

  We come together under the moonlight, finally collapsing onto the ground next to one another.

  “You okay?” I ask her. I’m still panting from the exertion of holding her up.

  “Losing my virginity in a football stadium?” she asks, her eyes more relaxed than I’ve ever seen them. “I think I call that a good time.”

  I laugh and grab her chin, pulling her mouth into mine once again. Her kisses are hot and sweet.

  “You’re good at this,” she whispers.

  “Good at what?”

  “Kissing. I mean, not that I have a comparison. Not really,” she says, leaning her head on my shoulder.

  “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

  “Couldn’t you tell?”

  “No,” I reply honestly. “It’s like I told you. I knew that somewhere in there you’re secretly a dirty little party girl.”

  She laughs and buries her eyes in her hands. “I can’t believe we just did that.” Esther checks her watch. “We really need to get back to the coffee thing. But we can’t walk in together.”

  I lean forward and lick her earlobe. “There’s nothing I can think of in this world sexier than you smelling like sex while we go mingle with the school donors.”

  She looks worried. “Will people be able to tell?”

  I stand up and pull my pants back on. “That you’re not a virgin? Oh, absolutely.”

  “Oh no,” she says.

  I laugh. “Delilah. Relax. I’m kidding.”

  She stands up and punches me on the arm. “You’re a jerk, Saint Williams.”

  I kiss her again. “But I’m a sexy jerk, right?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Like you need me to validate your self-worth. If your ego were any bigger, they’d need to build a new stadium to fit it.” She jogs down the steps. “See you in a few minutes.”

  “Delilah!” I yell at her.

  She stops and turns around to look at me. “Yeah?”

  “Next time, you better let me see your tits.”

  She blushes and laughs. “Keep it in your pants, Saint.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ESTHER

  The rest of the evening is pleasant enough despite my father fuming. He’s letting his anger percolate. That isn’t good. I know he hates to make a scene so he’s saving my punishment for later. What makes the event bearable is Saint and I finding reasons to brush past each other. Touching hands at the punch bowl, him scooting his body close to me as he pretends there’s not a wide enough walkway between all the bodies in the Dean’s sitting room; it’s these little things that keep me going.

  Then there’s the way Saint smiles at me from across the room.

  The way that I manage to smile back.

  The way that he has half a dozen girls milling around him the whole evening.

  But he only has eyes for me.

  I like that.

  I hardly recognize myself, but I’m enjoying it immensely.

  The guilt will come later, I just know it. The one time I touched myself down there in high school, I’d cried about it for two entire weeks before confessing to my mother.

  This time, there won’t be a confessional.

  But I know my dad’s rage is coming. My mother, father, and I walk back to their rental car in the parking lot. My dad waits until we’re at the car and saying goodbye to tear into me. “I’ve never in my life been so disappointed in you, Esther.”

  My mother hurries to the passenger side of the car and hops in. She hates confrontation. I knew I wouldn’t have an ally in her. I was right. “Alright, Father.”

  “Alright?” He slams his hand on the roof of the car and it makes me jump about a foot. “Alright? Esther, what has gotten into you?”

  I’m withering under his stare. No, not withering. Wilting. I’d been in full bloom all evening until now. One scolding from my father and I feel like I’ve shrunk by inches. “I’m sorry, Father. I just really enjoy helping the team. It’s the one thing I have here that allows me to escape.”

  He holds his face close to mine. I can smell the coffee on his breath. It’s foul. I shut my eyes, trying to pretend that Saint is here with me. “Escape? You want to escape? Escape what? The school that I’ve broken my back to pay for? Your cushy dorm room? Your classes that you’ve managed to skip completely?”

  Tears sting at my eyes. “Father, I’m-“

  “Esther?”

  That voice isn’t my father’s.

  I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming. This is part of the fantasy I was trying to escape to when I shut my eyes earlier. Because there’s no way that Saint Williams is in this parking lot right now.

  I look over my shoulder.

  He is. His blue eyes are shining, and his jaw is set. He’s angry. I can see that. He’s protective.

  “Hi, Brother Williams,” I reply. I mouth the next words to him. Help me.

  Saint nods imperceptibly. “Mr. Avonlea, the Dean was telling me how nice it was to meet with you earlier today.”

  My father stands up straight, stepping back from my face. He puts on his public face mask for Saint. “Well, that’s lovely to hear. Thank you.” He glances at me. “This conversation isn’t over.”

  I nod and look down at my hands. Tears fall in a direct path to the concrete, splashing on the dark, textured surface.

  My father looks at Saint. “I trust you’ll ensure my daughter makes it safely to her dorm?”

  “It would be an honor, sir,” Saint says. He’s not smiling. He actually looks like he’d love nothing more than to punch my father in the face.

  I’m not sure I would stop him.

  “Goodbye, Esther,” my father says, slamming the door shut.

  I step out of the way of the car and onto the grassy median next to Saint. Our hands brush against one another’s as the headlights of my parents’ rental car blind us. They drive away into the night.

  I wait until they are long gone before collapsing into Saint’s strong arms, tears flowing freely.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  SAINT

  “I wanted to fucking kill him,” I say to Rick that night, throwing him a football across our dorm room. “The only reason I didn’t lay him out on the sidewalk is because I didn’t want the repercussions to hit Esther later.” I exhale. “You should have seen her face. I should have fucking punched him. I should have.”

  “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you are dating Esther Avonlea,” Rick replies, throwing the ball back to me.

  I catch the ball. “What’s so unbelievable about that?”

  Rick gapes at me. “Wait – so you really are dating? I was kidding. I thought you two were just fooling around or something.”

  I shake my head. “Is that really relevant? And why is it again that you find it so unbelievable?”

  Rick steals the football from me and tucks it under his pillow. “Let’s see,” he says, holding up his fingers and ticking off the reasons one by one. It’s not long before he’s run out of fingers. “You’re a foul-mouthed, hypocritical party boy destined for a life of millions of dollars, supermodels, champagne, blow, and hookers. She’s…well. She’s Esther. What else is there to say?”

  I wander into our private bathroom to brush my teeth. “We’re not as different as you think.” I pull out my green toothbrush and squeeze a fat line of paste onto the white bristles.

  “Whoa. Man. You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?” Rick whoops and sits up in bed.

  I take my toothbrush out of my mouth and give him a death stare. “You spread that to anybody, and I mean anybody – that includes Rory – and I kill you. I’m dead serious.”

  Rick holds up his hands in surrender. “Cross my heart, hope to die, I’ll carry the secret with me to my grave. And it’s Romy, for the millionth time.”

  I go back to brushing my teeth.

  Rick calls after me into the bathroom. “But it won’t matter if I keep
it a secret or not.”

  I spit my toothpaste into the sink and rinse my mouth, drying it on my towel. “And why is that?”

  “You know how this school works. Everyone knows everything. It’s like…osmosis. Or some sort of scientific thing. That’s why.”

  I throw my towel at his face. “The only people who know about this are me, Esther, and you. Esther’s not going to tell anybody, and I won’t either. So if I hear about it from someone else, I’ll know it was you.”

  Rick shakes his head. “You’re awfully naïve for having spent the last three and a half years at this place, Saint. Gossip like this spreads like wildfire. You can have my head, but it won’t be me who leaks the secret. Trust me.”

  His words echo in my head as I fall asleep that night.

  He’s right.

  The first person I hear it from? I’m fucking going to punch in the nose.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ESTHER

  “You look different,” Romy says when I get back to my dorm room, my face puffy and red. “Other than the tears, I mean.” I already told her about my dad wanting me to quit the football team when I ran into her after dinner.

  “Different how?” I try to play it cool and fail miserably. “I don’t know why I’d look different. There’s no reason why I’d look different.” I shrug and unbutton my cardigan.

  “Oh. My. God,” Romy whispers in awe. “You had sex.”

  My cheeks are instantly turned to a burgundy shade. “No I didn’t. Why - why would you say that?”

  Romy shrieks and hops off her bed, bouncing up and down. “You had sex. You did. You’re not a virgin anymore.” She flops onto her mattress dramatically. “Deflowered by the biggest cock on campus. That’s just your luck, isn’t it?”

  I scowl at her. “How do you know the size of Saint’s – you know. Thing?”

  Romy rolls her eyes. “You’re having sex now, Esther. I think you should be able to say cock without getting embarrassed.” She sighs and breaks open a bag of cheese puffs, snacking on them hungrily. “Sophomore year there was a big group text that had a photo of Saint in the locker room. That’s how I know he’s well-hung.”

  “That’s an intense violation of privacy!” I exclaim.

  Romy snorts from laughing. “Saint’s the one who took the photo. Relax.”

  I walk into the bathroom and shut the door most of the way so I can finish getting undressed.

  “You’re not a virgin anymore, you should be fine with your beloved roommate seeing your titties,” Romy yells at me. “I think it’s crap that Saint Williams saw your boobs before I did.”

  I stick my head out of the door. She’s pouting. “He hasn’t seen my boobs. Don’t be so dramatic.” I crank the shower on full blast and step into it, feeling the tears and grime of the day fall down the drain.

  The shower curtain opens and I squeal, throwing my arms over my breasts. “Romy!”

  “Darn, missed them again,” she says, shutting the curtain. I hear her slide down the wall, still munching on her snack. “So tell me more details. No boob-showing, which means you were at least partially clothed.” She pauses while I soap up my hair. “And it doesn’t really make sense that you took off your skirt and not your sweater, so I’m guessing you were mostly clothed. Which means he had to push your skirt up. Hm. I’m guessing against-the-wall sex, which is insanely hot.” She chews thoughtfully. I’m not giving her any more ammunition than she already has. “And it must have been when you two disappeared after chapel.”

  She sticks her head back in the shower and I yelp again, dropping my bar of soap. “Romy!”

  “Did you have sex in the chapel? With God watching and everything?” Her voice has gone up about three octaves, and there’s joy in her face.

  “No,” I say. “Shut the curtain.”

  She does. “Okay. So no chapel sex. And you didn’t come back here to do it, because the room doesn’t smell like sex. Hm. So many places to bang. But he took your virginity, so it had to have been someplace special. You wouldn’t have let him do it otherwise, right?” Romy pauses again, this time for a long time. “Oh! I’ve got it.”

  “Alright, final guess,” I call back to her, massaging conditioner into the ends of my hair.

  “You fucked in the football stadium,” she says. “Only logical place.”

  “Don’t say the f-word,” I intone automatically.

  Romy opens the curtain again. “AHA!” So it was the stadium. That’s hot. That’s almost like exhibitionism in a way. Well done. I didn’t think you had it in you to be that dirty. Clothed, up-against-the-wall sex, in the football stadium, with our very own nine-inch quarterback.”

  “Romy!” I bark, one arm covering my nipples. I point at the bathroom door. “Out! Will you let me shower in peace?”

  She rolls her eyes and collects her cheese puff bag. She cleans her fingers of the orange powder residue. “Fine. But take your time in here. I need some alone time with my toys while I pretend Saint Williams is giving it to me.”

  “Out!” I yell again.

  She shuts the bathroom door behind her, and I feel the warm water running over my most intimate places. It’s almost tempting to follow Romy’s lead.

  But I have a jolt of guilt.

  I stop myself before my hand finds my sensitive places.

  I’ve already broken about thirty-seven holy vows in the last twenty-four hours.

  It’s like I’m begging for a lightning bolt to come down from the sky and strike me dead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SAINT

  I thought that once I finally got my fill of Esther I would stop thinking about her. If I could only fulfill my fantasy that I’d been having for weeks, I’d be able to get through the day and actually be able to concentrate on something other than my blue balls.

  Yeah.

  That didn’t fucking work.

  “Saint! What in the darn world has gotten into you today?” Coach blows his whistle three times in a row, a sure sign that he’s pissed.

  I pull off my helmet and jog over to him. The weather has finally changed. It seemed to go from summer to winter with hardly any autumn in between. The air is biting at my fingers. I blow on them to try to warm them up.

  You know what else would warm me up?

  Esther. I flash her a smile. She’s bundled up on the bench next to the water cooler. She ignores me. I kind of like it.

  “Sorry, Coach,” I say to him, rubbing my hands together.

  He shakes his head. “We’ve got a game tomorrow. The biggest game of the season. The game that’s going to make or break our record.”

  “Well aware of that, Coach.”

  He shakes his head. “Then get your head back in the damn game, Saint.”

  Sometimes I wonder how much other college coaches curse. I know he wants to say fuck but he never, ever would. It would get him fired faster than if he banged one of the students.

  “Take five minutes. Hydrate. Get whatever the hell it is that’s in your head out of your system, then come back onto the field.” He blows his whistle again. “Alright boys, we’re running that play again without our daydreaming quarterback.”

  I wander over to the water cooler. “Hey.”

  Esther hands me a paper cup without looking at me. She’s shivering, and her nose is pink on the tip.

  “So you’re not talking to me now?” I gulp down the water and refill my cup. She says nothing. I grin at her. “Coach says I’m supposed to get something out of my system. How about a quickie in the locker room?”

  That gets her attention. “Excuse me?”

  “Come on. I know you must’ve been thinking about the other night. I certainly have.”

  I can’t stop thinking about Esther. Her body. How slick she was around my cock. How she smelled. How her chest felt against me. How much I wish I could have gotten a naked handful of her perfect tits.

  “You have practice, and if Coach sees us talking I’m going to get into trouble,” she says.r />
  I raise my eyebrows. “Meet me behind the stadium. On the parking lot side. After practice.” I crumple up the paper cup and toss it into the garbage bag tied to the cooler. It’s blowing in the wind.

  I can tell she’s considering it.

  That’s all I want.

  The rest of practice I manage to actually focus, now that I know what I’m getting after practice. I’ve never showered so fast in my entire life. I jog across the field and out the far side exit. I know no one will be over here; this parking lot is only filled on game day.

  Esther’s not here yet. That’s fine. She’s probably washing bottles. I hop up and down in an attempt to keep myself warm. There’s a thick layer of iron clouds and the wind won’t stop howling. I wait twenty minutes. Then thirty. Then forty.

  Finally, I head back to the locker rooms. Coach is ensconced in his office and I can tell by the lack of noise coming out of the locker room that almost all of the guys are done getting ready. It’s Friday night. Most of them are headed off to party.

  I open up the storage room door and see Esther standing at the sink. Her shirt is splattered in water.

  “Get out,” she says without looking at me.

  I laugh. “And miss the wet t-shirt contest? It’s weird seeing you without a sweater.”

  “I was hot. It’s a billion degrees in here.” She wipes her forehead on her upper arm and I get a magnificent view of jersey-covered side boob underneath her shirt.

  I drop my duffel bag and walk close to her. Her breath catches in her chest but she continues washing the bottle in her hands. “I haven’t talked to you all week. You kept rushing off after practice.”

  “You apparently couldn’t take the hint.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder. “Last time I saw you, you were sobbing in my arms.”

  “And I very much appreciate you supporting me in that difficult moment.”

  I take my hand off her shoulder. “You missed me. Admit it.”

  Esther’s cheeks burn and it isn’t from the hot air blasting out of the furnace. “I’ve been busy.”

  I lean close to her ear. “You missed me.”

  She shuts her eyes and relaxes into me almost at once. The water is still flowing, the bottle is still in her hands, but she’s not washing anymore. I graze my lips against her earlobe and she shivers. She turns her face toward mine, and my lips find hers. I only get in a chaste kiss before she pulls away.