Train: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Autumn Avery

  Table of Contents

  Epilogue

  Copyright

  Autumn Avery Newsletter

  Stephanie

  Trevor

  Coming Off the Bench

  For Autumn’s Fans

  Train

  A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Autumn Avery

  Contents

  Copyright

  Autumn Avery Newsletter

  1. Stephanie

  2. Trevor

  3. Stephanie

  4. Trevor

  5. Stephanie

  6. Trevor

  7. Stephanie

  8. Trevor

  9. Stephanie

  10. Trevor

  11. Stephanie

  12. Trevor

  13. Stephanie

  14. Trevor

  15. Stephanie

  16. Trevor

  17. Stephanie

  18. Trevor

  19. Stephanie

  20. Trevor

  21. Stephanie

  22. Trevor

  23. Stephanie

  24. Trevor

  25. Stephanie

  26. Trevor

  27. Stephanie

  28. Trevor

  29. Stephanie

  30. Trevor

  31. Stephanie

  32. Trevor

  33. Stephanie

  Epilogue

  Coming Off the Bench

  For Autumn’s Fans

  Copyright © 2017 by Autumn Avery

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Autumn Avery Newsletter

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  1

  Stephanie

  Stephanie

  * * *

  Steely Boys. Back when I was a teenager, we all thought it was the old people's bar for our grandparents.

  There was supposed to be a rebranding a few years ago. At least Emma insisted that there was.

  She was my best friend, or at least my most aggressively helpful one, and she apparently didn't like the idea of the bookworm going back to being a bookworm when she returned from her time at the University of Wisconsin.

  "Let's cut loose, Steph. You're an adult now. With a career. And potential. And soon to be disposable income. The time for being a timid child is over, now it's time to be a woman." She grinned in a way that made me think her slightly mad, leading me along with me following out of a combination of curiosity and not wanting to hurt her feelings.

  I wasn't a bar girl. I'd tasted that life and I was definitely sure it wasn't for me. I barely tolerated the taste of alcohol, didn't particularly enjoy its smell. This place at least didn't smell of liquor too much, perhaps the scent of fried food helped cover it up, and there was a warmth that the outside lacked at the moment that I can say I enjoyed. "You sure this still isn't the old grandpa tavern?"

  "I'm certain. This is now the twenty-somethings’ hotspot in town for Aaronsville. Like, for professionals, not just a bunch of college kids like a lot of the other bars, and a change of the background music ran most of the old fogeys out."

  "It's not like we're older than college kids, Emma. I'm like, twenty-two."

  "Yet you're going to be studying at the college as an assistant professor already."

  I rolled my eyes as I followed, taking a seat. "Just because I'm a hotshot prodigy who they let skip eighth grade doesn't mean I think I'm automatically better than all my peers. You should know that."

  "I'm actually surprised, though" Emma said, sitting down beside me.

  "Surprised about what?"

  "That you came back here to do this. I would think most would-be educators want to be far away from the people they teach. Running into your teacher, or professor, or whatever, outside of school? It's awkward nowadays."

  I had to laugh. "I favor shorter commutes and being able to visit my parents over whatever you're panicking about. I can maintain my professionalism. It's one of the things they train you to do as a teacher, especially if you're going to educate high school or college students."

  "You're barely older than the kids you'll be professoring for. Assistant professoring."

  "Professoring is not a word, Emma."

  "You know what I mean. Aren't you the least bit worried that your students might be hot for teacher? Or maybe that you might end up hot for student?"

  Again I shook my head with a smirk. "Yeah, you're looking at the next Mary Kay Letourneau."

  "Mary Kay what?"

  "Some teacher who... Oh never mind. It was before your time."

  "You're the same age as me, girl." She slapped me on the back. "Whatever. Your professional life is your professional life. This is for your personal enjoyment. A celebration of a start of a wonderful career."

  "And you expect me to celebrate by drinking a beer I don't even like?"

  "Seriously, have you even tried one yet? Or you still Miss Goody Two-Shoes who's so pure she could be a Mormon or something?"

  Oh, yeah. Last time I had a girls' night out with Emma, I could legally still be considered a girl. One who was focused on her studies so much that yes, she got to skip a grade. I didn't really have much of a social life outside of a few friends here and there.

  When I went to college?

  I didn't like to think about it, but I soon quickly went back to that academically focused life and I really didn't do the party scene then either.

  One year with Ryan and living the life being a sorority slut without the extensive sexual history was enough for me. If I never met a college 'bro' again, I'd be a happy camper.

  This wouldn't stop Emma from trying to live that life again, though. If the world was jocks and geeks, she was a switch. She'd go out and get plastered one night with the cheerleaders and football team then sit on the computer playing some nerdy video game with me into the wee hours of the morning the next.

  "You know how you should break in this new phase of your life?"

  "Getting wicked drunk?" I asked, dejectedly.

  "No. Casting aside everything that makes you a girl. Including, you know..." She wiggled her eyes my way.

  "No, I don't," I replied, staring right at her.

  "The thing you do with a guy. I know you weren't exactly Miss Popularity back in high school."

  "I didn't care to be."

  "That's what they all say." She smirked. "You should get a certain card punched. You know. Literally."

  "It doesn't actually work that way, you know. The hymen isn't some..."

  "I mean literally, Steph. I don't need a sex ed lesson. You're the one who needs it. In practical applications, if you know what I mean."

  "I'm drowning in all the innuendo you're using, Emma."

  "Well, I'm just saying. You never told me you're particularly worried about saving yourself, and I know you're not asexual or a lesbian. You've made too many comments about certain boys’ bodies to say that."

  My face grew red. I did have a vivid imagination, and occasionally shared my thoughts.

  "So really, what are you waiting for? This whole bar is your oyster. You walk up to any guy here and they'll drop their pants for you if you spread your legs for them."

  "You make it sound so romantic, Emma. You really do."

  "Romance can wait. Getting laid though? That can't. You're a woman. You have needs. To be as successful as possible in your new career, you need to address those needs."

  "So clearly, it's r
eally you caring incredibly deeply about my career."

  "Now you get it."

  Emma was... certainly something. I scanned around the bar. She was right. It was a lot of twenty-somethings, or at least guys who could pass for it. I guess they were traditionally sexy? I mean, they looked reasonably fit, had cute haircuts, and proper facial symmetry?

  Maybe I needed more to really get that fire inside of me roaring. Maybe Emma was right and one of these guys could do it. Love at first sight wasn't something that really happened in reality. It was something dumb made up to sell books and get people to go to rom-coms.

  "Two PBRs, please!" Emma called out. "My treat."

  "PBR? You're so generous."

  "Hey, I know."

  2

  Trevor

  Trevor

  * * *

  "I'm telling ya, these bitches are just as slutty as the college chicks, they just play harder to get."

  There was always a fifty-fifty chance Dustin was just pulling things out of his ass when he was talking.

  "This is the test of your game, Trev. This is your chance to show that you can get pussy without pointing out you're the school's star running back."

  "Are you seriously questioning that?" I replied, pushing him into the street as we headed down it. We were in jerseys. It was a cold December night, but we had that macho never need a coat unless it's a blizzard thing. "I'm the Train, baby. People look at me and they're fawning all over me if they think they have the slightest chance in hell."

  To further my point, I flexed and struck a pose.

  "Trev, I hate to be the one to tell you this, you can't just walk up to women, drop your pants, and show them your dick. That'll get you arrested. You have to try something else."

  "Thank you for that enlightened take on dating etiquette, Dustin, I'll take that into consideration." Rolling my eyes, I contemplated shoving him harder. He was supposed to be a linebacker, he could take it. It wasn't like it would send him face-first into the asphalt, no matter how much he deserved it. "No man, I mean just me is enough. When I charm them and take them home, and then show them the Train, well, it's just a bonus."

  "We'll see. I bet you don't have any game beyond your reputation. If you find someone who knows who you are? That doesn't count."

  "Oh, we're throwing down random rules now, huh?"

  "Just laying out what the game is, Trev."

  "What are the full rules and regulations? How is scoring handled? How do we determine the winner?"

  "Don't be a fucking asshole about it."

  I didn't particularly care about the game aspect really. I wanted something different.

  We weren't exaggerating how easy it was to get laid. Star players destined for the big leagues, being in a college town and playing for the Indiana team was a good way of keeping yourself always knee-deep in poon.

  Literally. I could recall multiple occasions where the drunken, passed-out bodies were stacked on top of each other and I had trouble just finding the bathroom when I woke up due to the chaos that was the frat house.

  When you're a teenager and a raging cocktail of hormones and testosterone with an excessive desire to prove your manhood, endless fucking seems like something you could never get tired of.

  Somehow, someway though... it was starting to feel like it was possible.

  An endless array of pretty girls coming up and wanting to take a ride on the train.

  Sure, I was a running back with an obscene amount of yards recorded each game.

  That was definitely the main reason I had earned my nickname. Two hundred pounds of muscle barreling down the field? Yeah, getting hit by me was getting hit like a train.

  Girls, though, they weren't interested in that train. Half the girls I'd been with couldn't give a damn about my statistics. They just heard that the train is one hell of a ride, so fun that you'll never want to get off.

  If you're still dense, I'll spell it out for you: the train is my penis.

  That crass note out of the way, I was getting sort of tired of being the conductor. I mean, if I was going to soullessly fuck anyone who asked, I should at least make a career out of it.

  I made a mental note in case some sort of freak injury derails my big league dreams. I needed to do something if I was going to be Mom's hero like she thought I actually was. If for some reason I ended up going into porn, I was split if she would be offended or if she would be one of those cool moms who supports you no matter what you do. High profile football star? I support you honey. Renowned porn actor known for his work in Anal Butt Sluts 47? If that's what makes you happy. Cashier at a gas station? It's so good you got a job in today's market.

  Probably the latter. My mom was pretty awesome, and if that made me a Momma's boy, I wasn't going to disagree.

  For now though, I had the night to enjoy, and maybe a worthy woman too. Maybe one of these older chicks would light my passions up. Some sort of MILF.

  I shook my head, reminding myself that twenty-somethings typically weren't MILFs, unless they were of the teenage single mother variety. Still, something. I needed something in my life beyond being a story to tell, the next party, the next game. At age twenty-two, I suddenly started feeling like I needed to evolve into an actual adult.

  "There's my prey," Dustin said, whispering into my ear. He gestured toward a group of girls who looked like they may as well have been in college still. I didn't recognize them, and I never forget a woman's face, and damn, I'd seen a lot of them. "Going for the ol' four-way. Does it just become a reverse gangbang at that point, you think?"

  "You go have fun, Dustin," I said, patting him on the head like the child he was. I'd tried it, but intimacy was never all that fun to me when it wasn't actually intimate. It was hard to be intimate with more than a single person at a time, so big orgies weren't one of my favorite things.

  "I will. We'll compare out catches soon." He winked my way with a smile. He was always sort of abrasive, he'd be screwed if he weren't so talented and handsome, but he was, so for now, life was good.

  For me? I kept scanning my eyes over the room. Looking over the field, seeing if the goods were any better than what Dustin was promoting.

  They were. By God, they were.

  Dustin could have every other woman on the planet for all I cared. When I saw her, I felt a twitching down there.

  I hadn't felt myself get hard from just looking at someone in a very, very long time.

  Just the way she was looking at her friend, however, it was like she didn't know she was some sort of Goddess among mortals.

  It was going to be up to me to show her the truth.

  3

  Stephanie

  Stephanie

  * * *

  I debated ordering something else. One sip of what Emma got me and I was already revolted by it. I thought about something with a whole lot of sugar that was more juice than liquor, but did I even really want to get drunk?

  One drink wasn't going to turn me into a wild and crazy party girl. I wasn't that much of a lightweight. I wondered how much it would take, or if it just took a Ryan to bring that out in me, and I definitely couldn't order a Ryan here to reach that point.

  Not that I wanted to. If I ever saw Ryan, or anyone who even remotely resembled Ryan again, it would be too soon. That asshole was the reason I almost flunked out of college in freshman year.

  "Ooh, I see some goods," Emma spoke up, elbowing me in the side, and pointing toward some guy in a sports jersey, "College boys are easy."

  "College boys are idiots," I replied. I knew all too well from experience.

  "Exactly." She grinned, leaving me alone.

  I contemplated using it as an opportunity to bolt. Say I got a nasty headache or something. Emma would understand even if I was lying to her and she knew it.

  "Aren't you brave to be out at a bar alone, little girl?" A voice said behind me.

  Little girl? He was talking to me like he was my father or something. I turned to face the person talking
to me and it wasn't my Dad, but someone definitely old enough to be just that.

  He then had the audacity to take Emma's former seat right next to me. My skin was crawling and I wanted to bolt up and run immediately.

  "You need someone to take care of you, darling?" He had a skullet. The kind with a ponytail. He was already sweating, and I was sure that he would reek to high hell if I wasn't being gassed by the overwhelming amount of cologne he was wearing. "I have to say though, you're really courageous coming here all by yourself."

  I usually tried to respect the English language, and not come up with new words or further the use of words that were just made up for no apparent reason.

  Seeing this guy, I was suddenly emboldened to push Merriam-Webster to make 'rapey' a properly recognized word, with this guy's picture as the example.

  I wasn't going to be so easily shaken though. "Yeah, I'm so brave, coming to a twenty-somethings bar all by myself like this. Who knows what kind of fat, ugly creeps could come up to me and try to talk to me?" I sniffed the air. How much cologne did this guy soak himself in?

  "You just get to know me. I'm the one who can show you a mighty good time." He shifted his eyebrows suggestively. I was incredibly tempted to rip them off his face. "Especially getting to know me, you know, in a Biblical sense."

  "I don't want to know you in any sense of the word." I stood up. I was done with this place. Emma meant well to bring me here, but this wasn't my environment. I wasn't going to meet the man of my dreams, and if I was going to be sexually harassed by a prick like this, well, I had more than enough of an excuse to leave.

  Standing up, I made sure I had everything together, and headed for the door.

  I didn't even need to turn around to know that he was following me. His stench was more than enough. "A girl like you is going to wind up old and alone with two dozen cats if you keep treating fine men like me like this."