Biker's Virgin

by Claire Adams

  "What?" I tried to ask him, but he was already gone. He was walking straight for the bar, right to a girl sitting a tight dress and tall heels. He put his hand on her back getting her attention.

  "Did you drive here?" the girl asked, catching my attention again. Sasha. I thought I remembered Don calling her Sasha.

  "Yeah, why?" I asked. And right then, I got the answer to my own question. Don had picked her up for me and she wanted to get out of here.

  "I didn't. I could use a ride home," she said flirtatiously.

  "You still want that second drink?"

  "Nope," she said. She was excited. I could tell by the way she was leaning forward into me. I glanced at the bar and saw Don with his arms around the girl he had been talking to. She was laughing, and he was kissing her neck or whispering in her ear. One look at them and it was obvious where it was going. One of them wasn't getting home tonight. I looked back over at Sasha.

  "Let's go," I said. I downed the rest of my beer and held my hand out to take hers. She grinned, coming out of the booth and following me out of the bar. Her hand felt weird. It was a little bigger than Ron's and she was wearing rings. Ron never wore rings.

  Stop it, I thought. You really want to think about that now?

  I led her to my car and opened the passenger side for her. She grabbed my hand as I turned to get to the driver's side. I turned to ask her what was up, but I didn't get it out. She slammed into me, kissing me. I was stunned for a second before I kissed her back. I put my hands on her hips and pressed her into me. She parted her lips, and I felt her tongue against mine.

  That was what did it. I pulled away.

  "What's wrong?" she asked.

  Everything was. Her touch, her kiss, her everything. She wasn't Ron. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't right. I didn't want to touch her. It should have been Ron I was spending the night with tonight. Not this girl.

  "I can't do this," I admitted.

  "Did I do something?"

  "No. This was a bad idea. I'm sorry. Can you tell me where you live? I'll drop you off." Her arms dropped to her sides when she realized I was serious.

  "Is it because of your ex?"

  "Yeah," I admitted heavily. Why lie about it now? I had already turned her down. She crossed her arms like she was cold suddenly.

  "Well, I hope you two can work it out," she said shrugging. I apologized again and helped her into the car. I dropped her off and drove back to my place. I sat in the car for about ten minutes before going inside. It was empty when I did, and that sucked. I could have had her tonight. Sasha. I could have fucked her right against the door. Right then, nothing else would have mattered.

  I shook my head, taking my shirt off, getting ready for bed. It wasn't going to happen like that. It would take more than some shots and beer to forget Veronica. I didn't know what would have been worse – Screwing that girl and smelling Ron on my sheets the whole time, or being alone and smelling her anyway.

  Both sucked either way. Did it matter which was worse?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Veronica

  I remembered what I felt the first time I saw it. I hadn't been expecting it. We'd been outside, having a picnic then he just told me to shut my eyes and gave me this gift box. It was bittersweet, thinking about it now. A week after he had given it to me, we had broken up and he had left. I had come so close to getting rid of it, but I never had. It was like I had known somehow that this day was coming.

  I rubbed the pink stone between my fingers and played with the gold chain. After he had dumped me, I had felt like the necklace was an insult. I hadn't really worn it at all since he had left the first time. It just brought so much back up.

  It would always be associated with him, not just because he'd given it to me, but because of when he gave it to me. It sort of signified the second part of our relationship, when our feelings just stewed over thousands of miles. The time when we had both tried to get on with our lives, but hadn't managed to leave each other behind.

  The sun might have been setting outside, I wasn't sure. My blinds had been closed since I had gotten home. I wasn't looking forward to the weekend. I had been waiting for today to come and now that it was almost over, I wondered where he was. Was he still close enough for me to get to? His house, or the airport. Maybe he had been gone for hours already.

  It didn't feel good to admit, but this time was easier. The past two weeks had passed robotically. I had gone to class, studied, hung out with Tiff once or twice, even gone to see my parents. I had been in control of the separation this time, but he had made it easy for me. He hadn't called. He hadn't tried to text me or come see me. Nothing.

  This was the way I wanted it to be. This was why I told him I didn't want to be together anymore. So he could have the future he always wanted. The one he deserved.

  I put the necklace down on the nightstand and rolled onto my face. I had been spending a lot of time in bed, a pathetic attempt to self-soothe. I was doing the right thing by him. He didn't owe me this. I could never ask him for it, I had no right. With the way I had been feeling lately, convincing myself that this wasn't a mistake had been getting a little difficult. Hopefully, once I knew he was gone, a switch would flip and I wouldn't feel like this anymore.

  My phone broke me out of my thoughts. It was Tiffany. She had offered to come over tonight with food, and I hadn't had a good enough reason to tell her not to. I didn't figure I'd be very good company, but I had to do something. If she was worried, she wasn't showing it. She wasn't showing it if she was onto me, either. I had made a point to not ask about Roman so I didn't know what if anything they had said to each other.

  Her message said she'd be here in ten. I had put my pajamas on when I got home and wasn't going to bother changing. God, I was getting tired of myself. I didn't know how she stayed my friend. I texted her back, asking her to bring wine. Why not? If I was doing this, I might as well commit.

  She was knocking at the door a little while later. All my school stuff was on the table, so we just sat on the couch. If everything else had suffered these past couple weeks, my academics had flourished. Diving into schoolwork is a great way to try get over heartbreak. Does wonders for your GPA. Meanwhile, I had been late on rent and had been picking at the same leftover pizza in the fridge for the last three days.

  Dinner was lo mein and soup dumplings. Tiff sat across the couch from me, watching me pick at the noodles with my chopsticks.

  "I'm worried about you," she said.

  "Don't be."

  "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "No."

  "It's scary how similar the two of you are," she said. She didn't say the two of who – she didn't have to. I knew already.

  "Must get annoying after a while," I said uselessly.

  "I think he would have liked you to be there, despite everything."

  "Been there?"

  "At the airport. He left a few hours ago." I sat silently, looking into my plate of half-eaten food. Fuck it, he was gone now, I could say it.

  "Did he say anything? About me? Tell you to..." I trailed off, shaking my head.

  "Tell me to what?" she asked me gently. I felt my eyes fill and looked down, hating that I felt this way even more, because it was my fault this time.

  "I wish I could have been there," I said quietly, dabbing my eyes.

  "Why didn't you contact him?"

  "Because you don't ask someone to stay after telling them never to talk to you again."

  "What?" she asked, shocked.

  "He never told me about the team wanting to sign him. When I found out, after you told me, I couldn't let it happen. He was ready to potentially give up his whole life for me. I couldn't let him do that, Tiff. I couldn't be the reason he passed this up."

  "Veronica," she started, "you asked him not to talk to you? I know he would have at least wanted to hear from you before he left."

  "I felt like if I left that door open, he would give himself a reason to stay, somehow," I admit
ted. “I didn't want him to have any hope that it could go differently."

  "Vee. Do you realize what happened here?"

  "What?" I sniffed.

  "You just did the same thing that he did. You broke up with him so he had a chance to do something that makes him happy. Last year, he left you because he wanted to give you a chance at the same thing."

  "He should have talked to me about it. I would have waited. Why did he think that I wouldn't? Both times he had a big decision to make and he never talked to me."

  "You didn't talk to him, either, Vee. You decided that he'd go when you could have asked to talk about it instead," she said.

  "He didn't even tell me that he'd been talking to anyone."

  "You were doing the same thing, protecting each other, when I think maybe you should have taken the risks."

  I was crying now. Tiff didn't try to stop me or comfort me. She let me get it out. Was his really the same thing? Was I punishing myself so he wouldn't have to? Just like he was doing for me? It had made sense in my head...so it must have for him to when he did it. Everything I went through last year, I was putting him through now. I felt wretched, like there had been a better way both times and both times, we hadn't made the choice to take it.

  "How did we end up like this?" I sighed.

  "You're protective of each other. You went with your instincts instead of slowing down and waiting for another option."

  "I feel so stupid," I said, drying my face.

  "You aren't stupid, neither of you. You both had good intentions; it just wasn't the right thing to do."

  "He still deserves it. To play. I hope he's happy."

  "I know what would make this better, for both of you," she said.

  "I can't tell him all this now, he just left. He would come back, try to get out of his contract, something risky like that."

  "He should still hear it. Don't let him live there thousands of miles away alone with that being the last memory of the two of you together."

  "I can't do it yet. I made this decision getting ready to lose him. It hurts, but I made my bed."

  "Vee, you're doing it again. You're punishing both of you by not talking to him."

  But it's better this way, I thought. I'd pushed him into this and it was where he had to stay now. I couldn't swoop back in and tell him I changed my mind.

  "Maybe this is how it was meant to be," I said. "If it isn't, then maybe we'll be brought together again somehow. I don't think right now is our time." Tiffany looked like she was holding back. I knew that she'd respect what I wanted, but it probably irked her more than anything.

  "I can't say I get it, but... I don't think it's for me to get."

  "Would you trust me on it?"

  "I sort of have to," she said, shooting me a crooked smile.

  "I'm sorry for dating your brother."

  "You were the best thing about him, what does he have going for himself now?" she joked. I laughed at that. It was still a little hollow, but felt good.

  I was back in bed fifteen minutes after she left. My hand found its way to the nightstand, picking up my necklace. I put it on, tucking it safely under the neck of my top. He had given it to me before he left the last time. Now, I'd wear it, the way he would have wanted. The barely there weight against my neck was nothing close weight of his body in bed close to me, but it was something. It was all I could get and I was taking it.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Roman

  "Roman!"

  I stopped and looked behind me. Coach Hayes was walking up the hallway behind me. Coaches never looked like they were supposed to coach the sports that they did. Coach Hayes was tall, really tall, taller than I was, but looked like if he had ever played anything, it was basketball, not football. He caught up to me.

  "Yeah, Coach?"

  "You're here every day, Roman. You're more dedicated than the guys we've had on our roster the past five years," he said. I shrugged.

  "I'm here to do a job. I wanna make sure I can when the time comes."

  "It's going to be your first training camp, isn't it," he said, I thought more to himself than to me. He was right. It was going to be my first training camp. I had trained for football for most of my life at this point, but training camp? Professional training camp was not a fucking joke.

  All I had to go on were reports from the few other players I'd met who were coming to the facility to get their individual training in before camp started. Apparently, it was brutal. Long days, early start time, two practices a day, weightlifting, and a lot of playbook study. Some of them were coming to the facility to get their injuries taken care of before camp so they didn't end up making them worse. I had made it through playing in high school and college without any really bad injuries, but the point was still to be careful. When you're an athlete, your body is your bread. You break something bad enough and the checks stop coming in.

  "I have a feeling you'll be just fine," Coach Hayes told me. "Just concentrate. Remember why you're here. Nobody said it would be easy, but it will be worth it." I nodded, thanking him for his advice. I had been trying to work on my strength and endurance since moving. If nothing else, I didn't want to feel ground down to dust by the end of each training day when camp started. "How's the move been treating you?"

  "Fine," I said, shrugging again. The weather had been 89 degrees or hotter since I had gotten here. It was going to stay that high, crawling into the mid-nineties through August. With the humidity, it was kind of ridiculous. It hadn't been long enough for my body to be able to take it yet.

  "Where were you before? South Dakota?"

  "This isn't Aberdeen, but I'll be okay." He gave a look like he'd heard it before from enough guys to doubt whether it was actually true.

  "Keep your body in shape. You go hard in the gym, you make sure you aren't straining anything," he said. I nodded, saying I would. I had already been to the team's chiropractor, who had been disgusted by my flexibility and had me on this stretching routine I had to do after every workout. I wasn't complaining about the massages or using the whirlpools, though.

  I had just been getting ready to leave. I had come by just before noon and it was four now. He let me go, heading towards his office and letting me go to the locker room.

  It was still pretty easy up to now, I was going to enjoy it before it got tough. I grabbed my stuff and drove back to my apartment, stopping by a little Cuban place I had been picking food up from for the past few days. Cooking wasn't really my thing, but while moving in for the past several days, it had basically gone out the window.

  I pulled into the complex I lived in and parked my car in the parking garage. My new car. It had been one of the first things I had gotten when I got here. I had thought that maybe I'd get something used after selling my old one, but with my signing bonus, I didn't end up having to. I parked and rode the elevator up to my place.

  Rachel had been right. This place was worth it. It was fucking massive. I had thought the place back home had been a problem because it had two bedrooms. This one had one more than that, a kitchen with equipment I'd never even heard of and was more expensive to rent than the house, even though it was an apartment. That said, it was a five-minute walk to the beach, ten-minute drive to the facility, and the master bedroom balcony looked over the ocean.

  It was a lot, but apparently, all the guys lived like this, most even better than this. I was slumming. On the way to the facility each day, I drove past these huge mansions, places with yards and pools, right on the water. One of my new teammates, a guy named Jon, lived along that strip, and he had invited me over. What the fuck did he do with five bedrooms when he lived alone? I didn't get it. It was nice, but it was just more rooms to try keep clean.

  I shouldn't have complained about the nice things my signing bonus had managed to get me, but it was just very different from what I was used to. Thinking about it a little, it occurred to me. Privacy; that was it. Those big ass houses were like castles, secure and secluded.

/>   Rachel, an assistant who helped the new transplants out, had tried to get me to buy one but I had passed. This was enough. It was in a secure building, close to work and I could still see the beach. I could probably afford to move, but the worst time to start feeling froggy was now when I could start putting money away for the future.

  I had taken a shower before coming home so I just walked straight through to the bedroom. Rachel had taken care of the furnishing for me, which was why it looked like someone who knew what they were doing had put it together. I was high up enough to not need drapes, but she had gone for this general dark, muted color scheme. Leather couches in the living room, a rough-hewn, rugged-looking dining table I had warned her I'd never use, but she had gotten anyway. End tables, nightstands, everything I did and didn't need.

  It had grown on me since moving in. Today was the last day that deliveries had come in. I had left Rachel with a key to get everything set up, and I had to say, she had done a pretty good job. Some shit you just wanted someone else to do because they knew what they were doing. I loved the kitchen, even though I didn't use it. The fridge had two doors and was mostly empty.

  Ron would love it, I thought when I saw it. She'd have a field day with the whole place. Maybe I'd figure out how to make more than just pasta in cheese sauce, in her honor.

  My phone vibrated against my leg in my pocket as I walked to the kitchen to grab some water. Ron had been the last thing on my mind before picking up, so it was a little disappointing that that hadn't somehow made it her name on the phone. It was Tiffany.

  "Hello?"

  "Rome?"

  "What's up?" I asked. She had been checking on me almost every day since I had moved.

  "I was just checking in. How are you?" I was older than her, but someone needed to let her know that.

  "Same as yesterday. My house is finally done."

  "I'm so glad you got a professional to handle that this time."

  "I am, too," I laughed.

  "Have you talked to Dad?"