Draw Play: A Sports Romance

by Tia Lewis

  “That’s good.” I didn’t know what else to say. Was I supposed to be happy for my ex?

  “So … you think of anything fun to do around here?” Greta asked.

  “Around here? Unless they all of a sudden came up with something new, no. I can’t think of a damned thing.”

  “Neither can I. Though we do have the pool at my parents’ house. Sometimes I like to go swimming at night. After they go to bed.” She gave me a look I recognized.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s a nice way to cool off when the nights are so hot and sticky, you know?” She smiled, and my cock stirred. She was hot, all right. Tight body, almost see-through shirt. No bra. Her nipples stuck out like pins. I wondered what they tasted like.

  “What do you think?” she asked, moving a step closer to me. “Want to come take a dip with me?”

  I opened my mouth, and I meant to say yes. I did. In my head, I was already with her. I was already bending her over the side of the pool and fucking her from behind. She was already moaning my name and pulsing around me as she came, while I fucked her mercilessly.

  “I’m sorry, Greta. I can’t. I promised my mom I’d help her with something tonight. Maybe another time.” I shrugged with a smile.

  She blinked once or twice like she was surprised. “Oh. Okay. See you around.” She pushed her cart past me and stormed away on her clunky heels.

  What the hell was I thinking? A hot, tight college girl is all ready for me. All I had to do was ask for her address and the time. And I said no. Why?

  It wasn’t like I wasn’t horny. All I could do was walk around the store, putting things in the cart at random while I waited for my erection to go down. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do than sit around the house and watch movies with my mom until she passed out. I planned to study, but only when she was asleep—I didn’t want to hear her telling me to stop wasting my time when I had a career in the NFL in front of me.

  My heart wasn’t in it. What happened to the old me? The me who would have taken her out to the car and fucked the shit out of her before going back to the store to finish shopping?

  Only one word kept coming to mind: Claire.

  We weren’t dating, for Christ’s sake. We only slept together a few times. Otherwise, she was free to do what she wanted, and so was I. We had never talked about it, but it only made sense. There was nothing between us.

  So why did I feel like the world’s biggest asshole when I thought about fucking Greta? Because I knew it would hurt Claire’s feelings if she knew there was anybody else. She wasn’t like the other girls. She didn’t roll with it the way they did. I still remembered what she told me about the losers who hurt her back in high school. She didn’t want to feel used again. If she knew I was sleeping around, she would.

  Was that it, though? I thought it had to be.

  I still thought about it that night, after I made dinner for Mom and me. The kitchen smelled like grease and ten thousand burned dinners. It was enough to make me wish I’d bought a gas mask somewhere.

  I put a plate of roasted chicken and spaghetti on a TV tray in front of her, with a salad and garlic bread. “Please eat it,” I said. “You need the nutrition especially the protein.”

  “I eat those protein bars.” She shrugged. “And I drink juice.”

  “Juice is nothing but sugar. And when you mix it with vodka it kind of loses any nutritional value.”

  “Don’t be a smartass with me, boy,” she snapped. “I’m still your mama.”

  “I know. I know.”

  We turned to the TV, where the news talked about all kinds of shitty things. Then in a human interest piece, they talked about fall break. Footage of kids living it up on the beach and all of a sudden, I wasn’t so hungry.

  Mom was, and she ate almost every bit of the food on her plate. I wondered if it was the first decent thing she’d had to eat since I left in August. I wouldn’t doubt it. She was never good at taking care of herself.

  “Tell me about college.”

  I knew what that meant. Tell her about the football program.

  “It’s going well. We still work out together every day, just about. I told you about Zack’s injury, right? I think he’s going to be okay. We have a perfect record so far this season, though I guess you know that already.” I wondered what it would be like to want my mother to go to a game, to watch me play for once. Other people’s parents came to cheer for them. It was the biggest nightmare I could imagine.

  “Any scouts around?”

  I nodded as Mom lit up a cigarette. “Yeah, there’s been a few. More than a few. Coach thinks most of us have a decent shot. I mean, Zack and Max, obviously. They’re amazing. Preston is one of the fastest guys on the field.”

  “What about you?”

  “I hold my own. I’ve talked to a handful of scouts already.”

  “Where from?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Mom, I don’t remember off the top of my head. Uh, Philly, Cleveland, Denver?”

  “You don’t want to go to Philly. The fans are rabid. And Cleveland, who gives a shit about them? But Denver, that sounds interesting. I can’t wait till you get drafted and I get out of here.”

  I might as well have asked her where she wanted to live one day since that’s how she weighed my options. She expected me to take her with me. That was always her plan. So she wanted to live in Denver. Then I would play for Philly and buy her a house in Colorado and visit during away games.

  I bit my tongue—otherwise, I would have told her she could have been out of there years ago if she had just tried. There was nothing wrong with her. She wasn’t disabled. She was lazy. And she expected me to work my ass off to keep her comfortable for the rest of her life. I realized just then how much I resented her.

  “I’ve got a tutor,” I said. I had to tell her, to see what she thought.

  “A tutor? What the hell for?”

  “I’ve got to keep my grades up, or else I won’t be able to play. Like you just said, this is my time. If I don’t play, the scouts don’t see me.” I could tell from her face that she had a hard time understanding what I said. “If I fail, I get kicked off the team. I won’t get picked up if nobody sees me play.”

  “Oh, that’s no good. You’d better study. You have your books with you, right?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” It was almost too hard not to laugh. She was so predictable.

  So I spent the week studying—for once, she forced me to do it. I wished I could go back to the younger version of myself and tell him the day would come when she would threaten to lock me in my room the whole week so I could concentrate on my work.

  When I got back to campus the Sunday before class started again, there was only one thing on my mind: finishing Hamlet.

  And seeing Claire again. So, two things.

  What was happening to me? By the end of the week, she was all I could think about. It wasn’t even that I wanted to have sex—though I did. I wanted to talk with her. I wanted to tell her that I finished Hamlet. I wanted to discuss it with her. Who was I?

  More than that even, I wanted to be with her. After spending a week in white trash hell, she was the only person who could make me feel like me again. She understood me in a way none of my friends did. I couldn’t talk about Shakespeare with them. They’d want to know if I got laid over break, and they would tell me about all the times they’d been laid. That was it.

  I started off walking to the library from the frat house—I needed the exercise after a week spent sitting in my room. I was almost to the double doors leading inside when I stopped, then turned in the direction of Claire’s dorm.

  18

  Claire

  It was a perfect week. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Other kids might think it was fun to go to the beach or to ski or whatever, but I loved hanging out with my family in our cozy little house in northern Michigan. We were the type of people who sat around playing board games together. We were that corny.


  The first thing Mom said when she saw me climb out of my car in the driveway was, “What happened to your hair?”

  Oops. I had forgotten to tell her I cut it. “Uh, it fell off?”

  She laughed then opened her arms. “It looks beautiful! I love the way you curled it, too! So pretty!” She hugged me and touched the curls. Marcie had been right—it got easier the more I did it. Now, it was almost like second nature to get up and take the curling wand to it.

  “And your clothes! You look fantastic!” She grinned wickedly. “Let me guess. There’s a boy, huh?”

  “Mom!” We hadn’t even left the driveway, and already she was doing it to me.

  “Well?”

  “Can we get inside first, please? Or does the entire neighborhood need to know my business?”

  She helped me take my bags inside and then marched me to the kitchen table. A plate of cookies sat on the counter, and she had a kettle on the stove for tea. I sighed deeply, glad to be home. Whenever I thought of home, I immediately thought of the little kitchen with the rose-patterned wallpaper and collection of Mom’s prized porcelain teapots in an armoire along one wall. How many hours had I spent sitting at that same table, eating cookies and drinking tea with my mother?

  “Spill your guts, lady,” she ordered.

  “There’s not much to say,” I admitted, playing with the little tin of chai tea while I waited. “It was Jess who convinced me about the haircut and the clothes. And she was right—I feel better, I look better. It’s a big difference, even though I didn’t have to do much.”

  “I’m so glad, honey. I’ve always said you were a beautiful girl.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re my mom. You’re supposed to.”

  “As long as you never hide yourself again.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is that it, then? No boy?”

  My cheeks burned red, and she clapped her hands. “You can’t fool your mother, no matter how hard you try. Who is he?”

  I looked down at my hands, twirling my thumbs. “Just a guy I’m tutoring,” I admitted.

  “A football player?” She sat across from me, pouring hot water into two china teacups. I loved her tea set. It always reminded me of happy times.

  “Yes, a football player.”

  “And he likes you?”

  “I’m not totally sure. I think he might.”

  “That’s a start.” She took a bite from her snickerdoodle then drummed her fingers along the tabletop. “Is he any good?”

  “Oh, Mom!” I was dying, my face almost on fire.

  “Come on. We’re both adults here.”

  “I’m tutoring him. That’s all.”

  “That’s all? Are you sure?” She peered at me from over the top of her cat’s eye glasses.

  I couldn’t help bursting out laughing. “I am not going to give you details, okay? So just get over that right now.”

  “So you like each other.”

  I couldn’t deny it. “I think we do, yeah.”

  My brother, Todd, and my dad came in then, and the conversation ended as I stood and hugged the two of them. They scooped me up, their tall, rangy bodies always dwarfing me.

  I was still blushing, though, and grinning. Yeah. We liked each other.

  As much as I hated to say goodbye to my family at the end of the week, I couldn’t wait to get back to Jake. I wondered how he’d feel when we were together again. Would he regret being with me? Would he have gone home to find old girlfriends and realize that I wasn’t much of anything?

  I was still thinking it over as I unpacked. Jess called.

  “What’s up?” I asked as I went through my things.

  “I wanted to let you know I won’t be in until tomorrow morning. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Oh, okay. Is everything all right there?”

  “Yeah, I just decided to spend the night rather than driving back and getting in at all hours. I don’t have class until noon, anyway.”

  “Right. Okay, safe travels. See you then.” Just as I hung up, my fingers closed over a box of condoms. Mom had helped me pack, apparently. I shrieked when I saw them and told myself to give her a call once I calmed down. She was too much.

  My phone rang again, and I thought it would be Jess. It wasn’t. My heart leapt into my throat when I saw who it was.

  “Jake?”

  “Where are you? Are you back yet?”

  I frowned at his sharp tone. “Yes, I’m in my room.”

  “Is your roommate back yet?”

  “No, she’s not coming back until tomorrow morning.”

  “I need you.”

  My body responded in an instant—my heart pounded, my blood raced. A distinct warmth spread between my legs. I had to hold on to the back of my desk chair to support myself.

  “I’m here,” I said. “I’m waiting.”

  A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I looked through the peephole and hung up the phone, then flung the door open. There Jake was. I hadn’t known until just then how much I’d missed him.

  He was on me before the door closed, hands on either side of my face, his mouth prying mine open. Plundering me with his tongue. I gave myself over to him, letting him do what he wanted with me. I needed him more than I thought possible—I hadn’t known it until I saw his face.

  He swept my suitcase to the floor, then pulled my clothes off, one piece at a time. Off went the T-shirt. Off went the shorts. Off with the bra and panties. I couldn’t believe he stripped me naked without so much as a word, but I wouldn’t dream of stopping him. I wanted him too much. My heart raced, my body hummed with breathless anticipation.

  He lowered me to the bed, but instead of getting undressed and entering me, he dropped to his knees and pulled my hips toward him. I gasped when I realized what he wanted to do.

  “Are you sure?” I asked, surprised.

  “Why not?” The first words he’d spoken since I opened the door.

  “I didn’t think that was something men liked to do.”

  “You’re wrong.” He said nothing else, lowering his head until it was between my legs. His tongue raced up and down my clit, and I nearly wept with pleasure.

  Then he went even deeper, into my folds. I gasped, crying out, holding him closer even as I told myself it wasn’t right, he didn’t like it, he couldn’t like it. He didn’t seem to mind when his tongue met my clit. I almost screamed when he flicked it again and again, back and forth, up and down, moaning against my sensitive flesh. The vibration was just another source of pleasure, and before long I didn’t know which end was up as I sank deeper into complete bliss.

  With his tongue came another feeling, of his fingers. I felt him slide one, then two into me. He pumped them in and out as his tongue continued to move over my clit, which was on fire thanks to his skill.

  “Yes! Jake!” I twisted the sheets with my fisted hands, clawing at them, nearly screaming as he gave me more pleasure than I could handle. I cried out once more, tensing all over before sweet, blissful waves washed over me.

  I could hardly move or think. All I knew was the sensation of being taken so suddenly, so totally. The feeling of abandoning myself to pleasure. It was almost too much, but not quite.

  I opened my eyes to find him stripping down, and I spread my legs wider, still hanging over the edge of the bed. Damn me to Hell for being a hussy, I thought as he grasped my hips and drove himself into me. I closed my eyes, throwing my head back as he slid deep inside.

  “Yes … oh, Claire … God…” he grunted, taking me hard and fast right away.

  I welcomed it, moving with him, wanting all of him. I wanted him to take me any way he wanted me. Pleasure grew again, brighter and hotter with each thrust.

  I cried out in time with the slamming together of our bodies, the volume growing louder and louder the longer he went. I wrapped my legs around his butt and pulled myself closer to him, moving against him, slamming harder and harder until I couldn’t take any more. I tensed again as the pressure built … then
released. I shuddered, gasping his name.

  He followed me just after that; his thrusts are frantic until one last, hard thrust sent him over the edge. He grunted and shook, then sighed with satisfaction.

  I watched him and smiled when he looked down at me with half-lidded eyes.

  “Good to see you again,” I murmured.

  19

  Jake

  Afterward, we lay together in her bed. It was sort of a snug fit—I wasn’t used to the little dorm room twin beds. Amazing how anybody got laid in college. It was nice, though, in a way. We got to be close to each other. Her soft, warm body was draped over mine as she dozed with her head on my chest.

  Who was this woman? I’d been asking myself that question for weeks. Who was she, really? There were so many different sides to her. The nerd. The brain. The smartass. The sweet, supportive girl who stopped trying to make money and started trying to help me succeed for real. She genuinely cared whether or not I flunked out of the football program, not because she needed the cash. She would have gotten it either way. She cared about me. And she thought I was better than I gave myself credit for.

  She stirred like she could hear my thoughts. I closed my eyes.

  “I know you’re not sleeping,” she murmured.

  I stayed still, hoping she would assume she was wrong. Then, I felt her fingers pinch my nose.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, shaking my head.

  She laughed. “I knew you were awake, liar.”

  “I was trying to go back to sleep, thanks. Without you killing me.”

  “If I wanted to kill you, I would have used a pillow.” The way she said it, it sounded perfectly normal. “What were you thinking about?”

  “Ugh, this? Are you one of those girls?” I laughed when I asked.

  “One of those girls? What, the ones who always want to talk and cuddle after sex?”

  “Yeah. One of those.”

  “Is that a problem? That I actually care what you’re thinking? That you’re not just some walking dick I can bounce on?”