by Lane Hart
Shit! I'm sitting with his family? The dumbass could've warned me beforehand!
"That I believe," he says with another chuckle. "But sorry to let you down, sweetheart, you're not his girlfriend and never will be. He probably didn’t remember your name this morning."
Wow. They are definitely not buying this huge mountain of shit I’m selling.
I look out onto the field where the players are all warming up, looking for number...what was it? I glance down and see that it's eighty-six. When I find Jake, he's just running around in sort of a circle, catching balls, so I decide to do something drastic to prove my point. If his family doesn’t think we’re the real deal then no one else will either, and I want that hundred grand.
I sit my plate on the ground and wipe my hands on a napkin before I get up from my seat, taking the cement steps all the way down to the wall separating the fans from the field. Then I yell for him, "Jake!"
After the third time I shout his name he finally turns his helmet in my direction. I can't see his expression this far away, but I'd guess he's probably annoyed when he jogs over.
"Nice jersey, thief. Now what the fuck do you want?" He asks quietly, removing his helmet when he's standing in front of me. All the bulky pads covered with the black and blue team uniform make him seem even bigger and...hotter. I force myself to stop ogling the arrogant man’s body and focus instead of the problem at hand.
"You could've warned me I'd be sitting with your brothers! They think I'm lying about our relationship, and that won't do. We've got to make this look legit."
"So what the fuck do you want me to do? Tattoo your name across my forehead?"
"Kiss me," I say, and then snap my mouth closed, shocking even myself.
"Huh?" Jake asks, scratching the back of his head. "I thought you said I can't touch you."
"Only for appearances in public."
"Oh," he mutters, tossing his helmet to the ground. "Well in that case..." He grabs my face between both of his gigantic hands and almost pulls me over the damn wall with the amount of force he uses. Then I'm no longer worried about falling because his lips are on mine, causing a jolt of pure bliss to spiral through me, penetrating down to my soul.
What the hell? Where did that come from?
My mouth opens on its own, letting his tongue sweep inside and stroke mine, hard and frantic while I grip his shoulder pads with both hands. His forcefulness reminds me of the way he was fucking that girl on the copy machine yesterday. Hot and so freaking intense, almost...angry. Ah, yes, that's what it is. He's pouring his loathing for me into my mouth, so I give it back to him just as good as I get it. Bring it on, buddy! The arrogant, foul, jackass. I can't stand this man! The only thing I like about him at the moment is the way he kisses. He should be an amazing kisser based on the sheer number of women he's practiced on. The nasty thought of the herpes virus, and who knows what other STDs he could've come into contact with from screwing every woman in sight, finally has me pulling back.
Jake's breathing heavy as his dark, soulless eyes look at me a second before they go up the stands. He pastes on a fake smile and raises a hand, probably to his family, at the same time he grumbles, "Are we done now?"
"Yeah, Jake-ass, I'm pretty sure they bought it," I say, based on the amount of hoots and catcalls I hear in the background. "Yes, we’re even on the jumbotron!"
"Later, bitch." He grabs his helmet and runs back over to the rest of the players, who are heading off the field.
When I turn around, the entire section with hundreds of fans are staring at me, most with mouths hanging open in shock. I smile proudly and slap a few high fives on the way back to my seat, and then guzzle my beer to try and wash away the taste of his yummy, lemony kiss.
"Told you so," I say to his brothers, who look the most surprised of everyone.
"Who are you, and what kind of pussy voodoo have you done on our brother?" Jordan asks.
That comment has me snorting. "Addison James," I say, offering him a handshake. He formally introduces me to the rest of the guys, who lean away and give me sideways glances. It’s like they don't want to get too close because they're scared my witchy ways might rub off on them and make them settle down. Now that I know, I'm not sure how I missed the resemblance. All four men have the same exact dark eyes with only minor variations in their size and devastatingly good looks. I bet Jake's not the only player in his family.
Soon after, the announcer begins going through the starting lineup, so we all stand up and yell when they call Jake's name. Zack Bradford, the star quarterback, is the last to take the field, and is clearly the crowd favorite. I watch the first half of the game on the edge of my seat until Bradford runs in for an easy touchdown and gives the Wildcats' a nice lead. We all cheer wildly, and I can't help the ‘aww’ that escapes my lips, or the overwhelming jealousy, when Zack hands a football up to a pretty blonde wearing his number in the stands. Lucky, lucky woman.
During halftime one of the J named brothers buys me another beer which I graciously accept, and before I know it, the game is over with the Wildcats' winning the first one of the season after a three game losing streak. Finally!
“So um, Addison, I guess you’re gonna wanna go wait for our boy with us outside the locker room?” Jordan asks.
“Sure, sounds fun.” I just hope the ass doesn’t do something stupid to give us away.
It takes us a while to get downstairs with all of the thousands of fans pouring out of the stadium, but we finally make it through a security checkpoint. With the brothers’ names on a list, they let us wait right outside the freaking Wildcats’ locker room!
I pull my phone out from my jean pocket to snap photos and openly gawk at the incredibly hot players. I even see Zack Bradford! He barely gives Jake’s brothers a short, “Sup” before he storms past with Jake right on his heels.
“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” Jakes says, not even sparing me a glance when he fist bumps and hugs his brothers, guiding them out the door with him while I stand in the same spot, wondering what the heck just happened.
Chapter Four
Jake
“Yo, Jake,” my oldest brother, Jordan, says as we all walk across the parking lot. “What the fuck is up with that Snow White chick?”
Snow White, ha! I guess she does sort of resemble the Disney princess, except Addison is so much sexier. If only she'd cook and clean my house...
“Is our baby brother actually pussy whipped?” Josh asks with a punch to my shoulder.
“Hell no,” I immediately respond, then decide to follow it up with a lie since I do want to keep my twelve million dollar contract with the Wildcats. That means pretending she and I are a couple, even around my family. “You saw her. She’s hot as fuck naked, and as long as she keeps her mouth on my cock, I’ll keep her around.”
After that damn kiss the bitch insisted on before the game, I can’t stop thinking about her mouth, or her tongue. Ah fuck, my cock’s springing up in my jeans from just the memory. I need a drink or ten to get over that shit. I don’t want her if it means losing my contract. She’s just a bitch I have to deal with for six weeks. Nothing else.
“I need to catch up with Zack, but call or text me when you get home, all right?” I ask.
With quick goodbyes, I seek out our grumpy quarterback. Zack's in a pissy ass mood after our win, which doesn’t make sense. I can tell he needs a few drinks as much as I do.
“Zack? Hey, man, you gonna hit up the Blind Tiger?” I ask when I jog to catch up to him. “Marcus and Jon said a bunch of guys are heading over to celebrate.”
“Nah, I’m going home,” he replies, holding his car keys out like he wants to shank someone with them.
“Drown whatever's eating your ass. We fucking won! Our season is looking up and the guys all wanna buy you a round.”
“Fine,” he grumbles before sliding into his little sports car and driving away.
Zack’s already at the bar throwing a beer back when I sit down on the stool n
ext to him. I’m actually able to make him laugh when he hears about my setup with Satan’s daughter. I don’t bother mentioning that she’s really fucking hot. But then when I ask him if I can hook up with the cute little blonde he’s using as a fake girlfriend he freaks the fuck out, getting all defensive and shit.
I don’t know what his problem is, but I’m just trying to find a loophole to get my dick wet. Since Addison knows about Holly, I need to stay the fuck away from her. That leaves…no one. No one if I don’t want Satan and Jerry to find out and can my ass.
A few hours later I am so. Fucking. Drunk. I can’t possibly try to drive the eight short miles to my house. Even shit-faced drunk I know better than most people how disastrous that stupid decision could be.
Feeling like I need to get my money’s worth out of her, I call my house phone since I don’t know her cell number, and listen to it ring. And ring. And ring some more because I don’t have an answering machine. She finally answers.
“Hello?” she huffs, sounding tired and annoyed.
“Yo, sweet tits, ‘bout fuckin' time you answered.”
“Jake-ass? Is that you? Why are you calling yourself? Do you know what time it is? Some people have to actually get up and go to work in the morning!” She bitches for so long my eyes close and I almost fall asleep on my stool.
“Are you done running your mouth? ‘Cause I need you to get your ass in your car and come get me.”
“No.”
“No?” I repeat. “That wasn’t a fucking question. Get your ass in the car and come pick me up at the Blind Tiger. I’m drunk.”
“I’m not your damn chauffer you filthy chode!”
Did she just call me a fat, dirty cock? Ah, hell nah. “Look, cunt, it won’t take you ten minutes, so quit your bitchin’ and come get me!”
I pull the phone away from my ear when I’m met with silence. That’s not like her. Sure as shit she hung up on me! Fuck.
I give up and call a taxi, then redial the house number while I wait outside the bar. It rings nonstop for several minutes before it’s answered and slammed back down. When I climb in the backseat of a yellow cab I try calling the house phone again and get a busy signal. She must’ve taken it off the fucking hook.
As soon as I walk through the front door, I try to make as much noise as a high school marching band. I go straight to the kitchen. Hungry for something to soak up the alcohol slopping around in my belly, I make an omelet, banging pots and pans more than necessary. I turn on the house stereo system to Linkin Park, blasting the loud, angry music.
“You are the most inconsiderate fucker on the planet!” Addison screams at me to be heard over the rock music. When I turn around, she’s standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing a tight ass, white tank top and little black cotton shorts. The woman’s titties are fucking perfection, and I can just barely make out the areolas through the thin material.
“Sweet tits!” I say in greeting, then I’m wondering what those soft swells would feel like in my hands before I try to remember what I was going to say. Oh that’s right. “If you’d come picked me up, I wouldn’t be so loud. But noooo, you had to be a bitch!”
“It’s almost two o’clock in the morning! I have to be at work at eight you self-centered prick!”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” I ask, unable to peel my eyes away from her tits. Gorgeous, full tits that are all natural and would probably bounce beautifully if she was riding my cock.
“Where have you been? Getting drunk off your ass all night? Did you fuck a few sluts while you were at it?” she asks sounding like we’re married or some shit.
“Hell yes,” is all I respond with, and her face falls with just those two words.
For some stupid reason I can’t figure out because I’m too drunk, I hate seeing that look of disappointment on her face. I’m about to take the words back and admit that I didn’t even talk to any women, but then she blows up on me.
“Fuck you! You’re a waste of talent you selfish little shit. When you lose the contract that you don’t even deserve in the first place, you’re gonna be a has-been that no one ever thinks twice about! I bet your parents will be so proud of their washed up son when you lose a shot at greatness because you couldn’t take your dick out of sluts or hold your alcohol-”
I throw the fucking frying pan across the room so hard it feels like it shakes the house before I get in her face, backing her up against the kitchen counter. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me, you spoiled bitch, so don't you ever say another fucking word about my family!”
When she flinches away I realize I’ve managed to scare her. She thinks I’m gonna hit her or some shit and now she’s afraid of me.
Fuck.
If she’s not infuriating me she’s making me feel guilty. I am so sick of this woman and she hasn’t even been here but for two damn days!
“I’m sorry,” she says, all soft and sweet, catching me completely off guard. That only pisses me off even more. I’d rather she yell at me. Looking in her golden apologetic eyes is too much. “I didn’t know they were such a sensitive subject…”
“Oh quit your psychobabble bullshit and stay the hell away from me!” I yell, but then I’m the one that walks away, stumbling to my room. I just want to pass the fuck out without having nightmares about the shit the bitch just nailed me with harder than a three-hundred pound defensive lineman.
…
Addison
After my third cup of coffee, and in between morning clients, I pull up the search engine on the laptop in my office. Seeing Jake suddenly go ballistic last night has me wondering why he was so defensive about his family. I put his name into Google to see what I can dig up.
His bio starts off by stating that he was an All-American quarterback on his high school team, which was how he got recruited to Ohio State on a full athletic scholarship. His freshman year, the football team went through all of their wide-receivers due to injuries or suspensions, so they pulled him from the bench. He excelled in the position, breaking NCAA records for most receptions and touchdowns, helping the Buckeyes salvage the rest of their season with enough wins to get them into a bowl game. Okay, so none of that is surprising. Of course it’s no secret he’d have to be an extraordinary player to even make it to the pros, much less a starting position.
I keep reading and see that he was born and raised in a rural town just outside of Danville, Virginia, which isn’t that far from Charlotte. If his family still lives there then it’d be easy for them to make the drive on Sundays to watch his games.
It only takes one more sentence for me to feel like a gigantic bitch. Both of Jake’s parents died in a car crash three years ago. During the first season Jake signed with the Wildcats, his mom and dad were on their way back from his away game in Atlanta when they were hit head on in Greenville, South Carolina by a drunk driver. The impact killed them instantly.
Oh God. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been on him and his brothers to not just lose one parent but both at the same time. And then last night when we’d been yelling at each other I’d stupidly mentioned them, having no idea that he’d lost them. I’m a horrible person. As a psychiatrist, hell as an adult, I should know better than to hurl insults at people, especially so carelessly at someone I don’t know a damn thing about. And he’d called me to drive him home because he'd been drinking, but I’d refused.
I’m distracted the rest of the day, my guilt gnawing on my stomach like a burning ulcer. So I do the only thing I can think of to try and make up for my atrocious behavior. I decide to cook dinner for Jake. I’m not the best cook in the world, but my mother has taught me a few things over the years.
After I burn up everything edible in his kitchen, I get in my car and drive to Maria’s to pick up a premade, home cooked meal. Ten minutes later, mustard and dill crusted salmon with a side of horseradish mashed potatoes and vegetable medley are on the table ready to be eaten. I wait an hour for him to come home, but at eight o’clock I giv
e up and re-box everything before putting it away in the refrigerator.
Trying not to, I can’t help but wonder where he is and what he’s up to. It’s not like I’d rat him out if he was with another woman, even if the thought does bother me for some stupid reason.
Chapter Five
Jake
I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance that Addison would be gone by the time I got home Monday night. I exhale a sigh of relief when I see her red convertible. At least my contract is safe for a little longer.
It’s after eleven o’clock when I finally walk through my front door. The house is dark and quiet, telling me Addison’s likely asleep in her room. I’m exhausted after having to deal with my trainer early this morning, while still hung over, before the four hours of a grueling practice and then my bright idea of driving two hours to Greenville, South Carolina and back.
I want to just throw my tired ass into bed and sack the fuck out, but I know that’s a longshot. My head’s pounding too hard for me to fall asleep. I need to clear my mind, to relieve some of the tension caused by the horrendous memories. The ones of the night our team bus had to take me to the morgue in Greenville to identify the grisly remains of my parents. My parents that I’d just seen alive and well a few hours before. Then there's the unbearable guilt, having to call each of my three brothers in the middle of the night and hear their sobs of anguish when I tell them both our mom and dad are gone.
There’s only one thing that's certain to make all the pain disappear. Alcohol doesn’t work, and usually makes it worse since it reminds me of the piece of shit drunk driver serving only a ten year prison sentence for taking their two lives. There’s no way I’d ever touch drugs since that’s the quickest way for me to get kicked out of the NFL. The only thing that has ever worked as a temporary distraction for the past three years is fucking. I need to lose myself in the lust, those few, brief minutes of pleasure I find between a woman’s legs make it impossible to think about anything else. I need to at least get myself off since I can't fuck anyone if I want to keep playing football. Giving myself a release is the best way to relax, so that I can finally get some sleep.
