Sacked

by Tabatha Vargo

  Being in Sawyer’s arms was like going home, which made absolutely no sense to me. He wasn’t home. He’d never be the kind of man my daddy was. I doubted he could ever understand what it meant to be a real man and take care of your family. Yet, he was so big and strong, as cliché as it sounds, and it was nice to let go of the breath I’d been holding ever since I stepped foot on campus.

  I played with my bracelet, my tear-filled eyes moving over the music note charm as I remembered the way my life used to be. I didn’t often dwell on the past, but something about the way I felt when I pulled away from Sawyer sent me reeling. The past smacked into me full force and all I could think about were my mother and father—the way my little family used to be before momma’s sickness took her away and the stroke took my daddy’s voice.

  A tear trickled down my cheek, and I swiped it away quickly. I was in the wrong place for an emotional breakdown, but it felt as if everyone I loved had left me somehow. First, my mom left. She was my rock—the person who kept me on Earth—the one who introduced me to my love of music.

  I used to sing to her on days when her MS rendered her unable to even get out of bed, her pain excruciating. I’d wrap my fingers around hers, and I’d sing while we waited for her pain medicine to take effect. When she’d finally slip into sleep, she’d have a small, relieved smile on her face, and my heart would tighten knowing she was no longer in pain. I couldn’t do much for her, but I could do that. I could sing her into relief, no matter how brief that relief was.

  She’d given me the bracelet and made me promise to keep singing no matter what. She’d died a few months later. I hadn’t sung a note since then. I couldn’t. It hurt too much knowing how she loved to listen to me and knowing she’d never hear me again.

  Secondly, my dad left. Sure, he was still alive, but the man he once was, was long gone. I missed him even though I saw him almost every weekend when I drove home to visit. It was a three-hour drive, but it was worth every minute when I saw his eyes light up when I entered the room.

  There was one more person who would be leaving me soon. My heart hurt just thinking about it. It was the reason I needed to get close to Sawyer. I needed him to see reality. Sawyer needed to know that the world didn’t just revolve around him. He needed to know that there were other people in the world—people who had feelings and hurt because of his past actions.

  Wiping at another tear, I sat up straight with new resolve. My mom died with regret weighing heavily on her because she desperately wanted to live for me. I wasn’t going to let another person I loved die with unsettled emotions in their heart. Sawyer was the key to making things better. He didn’t know it yet, but he had a lot to be sorry for, and I was going to make sure he gave a proper apology before it was too late.

  Pulling up to Cypress Hall, the dorm I was staying in, I lugged all my books from my backseat up the stairs to my room. The dorm where I stayed was nice. I hated sharing a bathroom, but it would have to do since I couldn’t afford and off-campus place.

  Tossing my keys onto the desk that was mine, I pulled my boots off my feet and fell onto my bed. It squeaked, sounding as if it were seconds from breaking beneath me.

  “Long day?” Lexi asked.

  She was the perfect dormmate. She was quiet and kept to herself. The only downside was she went to sleep as early as a nun did and slept like a feather, which meant I did a lot of creeping around after eight at night. Most nights, I’d go down to the common room, turn on the TV, and study. It wasn’t the college experience I had expected, but then again, I wasn’t the kind of girl who went wild when away from home.

  “Very long.” I sighed, tossing my arm over my eyes to block out the light.

  “How are you liking Literature and Film? I considered taking it, but opted for Comparative instead.”

  She stood from her desk and tugged her dark hair into a ponytail.

  Lexi was a pretty girl. A little on the plain side, but her olive-toned skin and dark eyes were attractive. She was taller than I was and extremely fit—always doing yoga poses in the middle of our small space or leaving at the butt crack of dawn to jog. It could get annoying considering I stayed up late studying most nights and loved to sleep more than anyone I knew.

  “It’s fun. No sitting around watching movies, if that’s what you think.” I grinned.

  “Cool. Hey, isn’t Sawyer Reed in that class with you?”

  I moved my arm, looking up at Lexi, sure that I’d heard her wrong. She wasn’t a football fan … not in the least. Not that she ever said so, but I knew the look of a girl who enjoyed watching sweaty boys who could toss a football and run like the wind. She didn’t have that look.

  She was granola and yogurt. Football girls were burgers and fries.

  It made sense.

  Trust me.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “God, he’s so hot. I saw him the other day at Starbucks. How do you manage to listen to anything the professor is saying with that tall drink of water in the same room?”

  My mouth popped open.

  What was the world coming to?

  There I was, thinking my dormmate was a sensible girl, but as it turns out, she was just another skirt in awe of Sawyer’s god complex.

  “I manage,” I muttered, turning on my side and giving her my back.

  I was suddenly upset that Lexi had ruined my impression of her. With just a few words, she went from a nice girl with a good head on her shoulders to just another dumb twit. Some girls were ridiculous, and girls like Lexi and the rest of the Sawyer groupies gave us sensible girls a bad rep.

  I’d show them and I’d show myself that I was nothing like those girls. I had a mission. I’d get in Sawyer’s head. Get the information I needed. Drop the bomb I held tucked away, and then I’d get the hell out.

  Everything and everyone went away when it came to football. A lot of guys worried about homework and chicks but not me. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to get in Gretchen’s pants and all, but I also wanted to kick some ass on the field. So football always came first.

  I lived it.

  I breathed it.

  I practiced on and off the field like a madman. I wanted to be the best. Hell, I was the best. It was an obsession—an addiction I did not intend to ever break.

  I practiced hard, throwing drills with the team while the Carolina sun beat down on my face. And anytime Gretchen or any other distraction with tits entered my mind, I’d push them out.

  Our first game was rapidly approaching and Game Day was going to have cameras onsite, which meant I needed to be ready. It was my time to shine—to show the people back home and the world how I was going to dominate the season.

  “All right, bring it in!” Coach McCall, our head coach, demanded.

  We gathered around him, the other coaches included, and waited for his speech.

  “I think this year’s going to be the best year Camden University’s seen in a while. Want to know how I know?” His beady eyes looked around the huddle as if waiting for an answer. “I’ll let y’all in on a little secret. This year’s lineup is one of the best I’ve ever coached.” He took his hat off and wrung it in his fist, bending the bill. “Defense, you boys are ready to knock the shit out of ‘em.” We got rowdy when Coach’s voice lifted in pride. “And with Sawyer leading the team this year, I think we’ll wipe the field with ‘em. What do y’all think?’

  Again, we all roared our answer. The guys patting me on the back of my head making me laugh out loud.

  “I can’t hear you! I said, I think we’re going to kick some ass this year. What do y’all think?” he yelled.

  We got louder, roaring and ready to show the world what we were capable of.

  He blew his whistle making us quiet down and a smile split his aging face.

  “You’re damn right we are,” he agreed with a toothy grin. “Now, get the hell outta here. Y’all are stinking up my field.”

  After practice, I called my dad to see if he thought he might make my
first game, but there was no answer. I wasn’t surprised. He was becoming more and more absent the older I got. I remembered in high school the way my eyes would linger on the stands during my games, hoping he’d surprise me and be there cheering for me. He was never there, though. He quit coming to my games when I played peewee ball. Right after my mom died, actually. Shit, he’d died with her.

  Instead of finding my dad, I always found college scouts, which was a miracle in itself since scouts rarely looked in small towns for talent. It was proof of how good I was.

  Their eyes moved over me as if I was a prized pig. The entire team played harder knowing they were there, but it didn’t matter to me. I was born and bred to be a Camden Tiger, which meant if they weren’t rocking a tiger paw on their hat, then we had nothing to discuss.

  I listened to his voicemail and a wave of nostalgia hit me, burning in my chest until I swallowed it down. Hanging up, I didn’t even bother to leave a message. It was pointless since I knew he wouldn’t call me back.

  Instead, I texted Gretchen.

  Sawyer: Saturday night after the game. U. Me. Pizza. Movie. You still in?

  Gretchen: Yes. Meet u out front after the game.

  Sawyer: No picking u up at your door like a real date?

  Gretchen: No.

  Sawyer: U sure?

  Gretchen: Hold on, let me check.

  Gretchen: Yeah, I’m sure.

  Sawyer: Smartass. Ok. See u after the game.

  I chuckled to myself as I tucked my phone in my pocket and tackled some homework.

  The day before the game, the school was abuzz. Everyone wore the school colors and painted tiger paws on their cheeks. I got several high-fives and pats on the back from professors and students. Everyone was looking at me to bring glory to the school. I felt like a rock star on the verge of greatness, and I was soaking up the attention like the sun.

  Needless to say, our game was a success. Our stadium was loud and proud as we kicked Georgia’s ass all over the blue painted grass in our end zones. The band played our school song, filling the stadium with the brassy sounds of their instruments. The final score was forty-nine to ten if you could even call that a game, and I left the field feeling like a football god.

  After a victory speech from Coach, we broke and hit the showers. Afterward, I was dressed and ready for the rest of the night. Water dripped from the tips of my hair when I left the locker room, and I shook it with a big grin on my face as I passed a herd of giggling girls. The high I was riding made me feel as if I was walking on air.

  The season started out with a bang, my name echoing in the stadium reminding the other team who’d just stomped their asses. And next game day, it would echo through the stadium again letting the next team know who was about to own them.

  Me. Motherfucking Sawyer Reed.

  It wouldn’t be long before my face was plastered all over ESPN and I was lining up for the Heisman.

  It would happen.

  I’d kick ass and make sure it did.

  Gretchen met me outside the stadium as we had planned. She was the cherry on top of my day. First, winning the game, and then hopefully, winning the girl for the night. I was ready to end my drought and own every inch of her sweet body. Don’t get me wrong, blowjobs were great. In fact, I fucking loved seeing a chick on her knees, worshipping my cock, but I was getting bored with that shit. I was ready to bury myself in a tight, wet pussy—preferably hers.

  She looked amazing. A blue sundress barely touching the top of her knees showed off her killer legs. The white scarf wrapped lightly around her slender neck was covered in silver, tiger paws. She was representing Camden better than any other girl on campus was.

  She’d been at the game, which made me smile to myself. The silver painted tiger paw was still perfect on her cheek. Her eyes were illuminated from the win, and her skin was pink from the cool breeze. She looked as excited as I felt, making her smile brighter than the lights surrounding the gridiron.

  “Congrats on your win,” she said, leaning against her car. Crossing her arms, she emphasized her perfect tits. “You guys played well.”

  Swallowing hard against the sight of her, I grinned at her words. “Fuck that. We didn’t play well. We kicked ass.”

  She laughed, the throaty sound filling the space around us. “Easy, boy, we wouldn’t want your head to get any bigger.”

  “I’m not sure that’s possible,” I joked.

  “At least you’re honest,” she countered. “So, Star Quarterback, what movie are we catching tonight?”

  And just like that, our night got started.

  Since it was so late and we were both starving, we skipped the movie and went straight to the local pizza place. It was a college town, which meant even the local restaurants were outfitted in tiger paws. The atmosphere in the room was overflowing with excitement, our win boosting the morale of the entire school and its students, making us all feel invincible.

  As soon as we entered the place, students who wanted to wish me a good game and get me to sign their shirts surrounded us. The place was packed to the brim with players and cheerleaders—even several members of the band had crowded in. The room was swimming in blue, silver, and white. It was a thing of beauty.

  Once we made it through the crowd, we sat at a booth tucked in the back of the room where we ordered drinks.

  “Does that ever get old?” she asked around her straw.

  Her lips were pouty—inviting—as she nibbled at the plastic straw sticking out of her drink.

  “What?”

  “That.” She nodded across the room to a group of girls who were pointing and giggling.

  I chuckled, leaning back in the booth and stretching my legs. “Never. Who wouldn’t want to be a celebrity in their school?”

  “Me. I’d hate it.” Her eyes moved over my face as if she were trying to see inside me. As if finding what she was looking for, she shook her head. “But everyone’s different, I guess.”

  “I guess so.” I shrugged.

  The conversation felt too heavy. I needed to lighten up the atmosphere.

  “So where are you from, pretty girl?” I laid it on thick.

  She didn’t even bat an eyelash at my sugary words, and I knew I’d be wasting my usual bullshit on her. Sweet words and charming grins weren’t going to cut it with this chick. I had to lay it on even thicker if I wanted to land her.

  She took a big, unattractive bite of pizza when the waitress brought it out and chewed with her mouth open. Pepperoni and cheese sloshed around inside her mouth as she peered around the room instead of at me. She acted as though she wasn’t the least bit interested in me.

  It confused me.

  How could such a pretty girl be so fucking unladylike?

  She finished chewing her pizza before taking a big sip of Pepsi. “I’m from Lexington, close to Columbia.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been through there a few times.”

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Ninety Six, the smallest town in the world.”

  Her eyes lit up and a tiny smile pulled at her pouty lips.

  “Ah, a small town boy, huh?”

  “Definitely a small town boy. The best in the world.”

  “Please tell me you’ve milked cows and own a pair of cowboy boots because seriously that would be the best.” She laughed.

  I couldn’t tell if she was flirting or not, which put me off my game, but part of me liked not knowing. Our date, if I could even call it that, was comfortable and laid back. I couldn’t lie to myself; so far, it was the best time I’d had with a girl I wasn’t fucking.

  “Yes to both of those,” I answered.

  “That’s sexy.”

  “You think I’m sexy?” I asked, knowing already that she indeed thought I was good-looking.

  All girls did.

  “Oh my God, shut up.” She giggled. “I’m not answering that.”

&nb
sp; I leaned across the table, my elbows leaning against the wood, as I brought myself closer to her. “You do.”

  Still, she didn’t answer. Instead, she rolled her eyes and sipped her soda.

  Relaxing back into my seat, I rested my arms on the back of my booth, allowing her plenty to look at.

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  It wasn’t my typical question. Honestly, I didn’t give a shit. I wasn’t going to let that stop me from moving in on her.

  “No boyfriend.”

  I nodded.

  “What about you? No special woman in your life?”

  I snorted sarcastically, and laughter rushed from my lips. “No. Definitely not.”

  She pouted sweetly. “That sucks. Here I was thinking I was special.”

  Her eyes lit up with humor, and I knew she was fucking with me.

  “Do you want to be a special woman in my life, Gretchen?”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she bit into her cooling pizza and grinned.

  The rest of our night was spent talking. Occasionally, a teammate or a student would interrupt us, but other than that, things ran smoothly. By the time I was walking her back to her car, I was barely thinking about getting laid.

  As I thought she’d be, Gretchen was unique. I kind of liked her, actually. Hanging out with her was almost like hanging out with one of the guys. Except, of course, she had amazing legs and a rack that made my mouth water.

  “Okay, Sawyer Reed, star football player, I had a great time,” she said, digging through her purse for her car keys.

  “Okay, Gretchen Cole, pretty-girl-who-can-burp-like-a-man, I had a great time, too.”

  She laughed. “Yep. I’m ladylike like that. Did I mention that I can also drink you under the table and pee standing up?”

  Laughing, I reached up and covered my heart playfully. “Be still my heart. I think I might be falling in love,” I joked.