Again, she laughed, and I realized I liked making her laugh almost as much as I liked passing drills. The sound lightened my heart in a way I hadn’t known since my momma was alive.
I moved closer, going in for the kill, and I used my body to pin her against her car, enjoying the feel of her heat. The good night kiss was always the prelude to a wild night of fucking. We’d had a great night together, but it was time to step it up.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her breathing accelerating.
Running my finger up the side of her neck, I lifted her face to mine and bit the side of my mouth when she licked at her lips.
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I leaned in closer, my lips just inches from hers, and prepared to kiss her. Her heated breath rushed against my lips and pulled me in, but just as I was about to press my mouth to hers, she tilted her head and my lips landed on the soft skin of her cheek.
Confused, I pulled back.
“What was that?”
Annoyance struck me in my gut. Girls didn’t turn me down.
Not ever.
Who the fuck did she think she was?
The annoyance turned into anger and moved up my stomach into my chest. I knew it wouldn’t be long before my irritation showed in my expression. I didn’t want her to know I was pissed off. The minute a girl knew they had that kind of control over your emotions was the minute they tried to own you. I’d watched it happen to a few of my boys over the years. That shit wasn’t happening to me.
She reached up, her cool hand landing on my cheek, and my eyes met hers.
“Sorry. I’m just not ready for that,” she responded.
She wasn’t ready for a kiss?
Well, damn.
If she wasn’t ready to kiss me, I was going to have a hell of a time getting her to fuck me.
“I had a really good time tonight, though,” she said, attempting to soothe my ego.
“Maybe we could do it again sometime.” I shrugged; acting like it didn’t matter when it totally did.
I definitely wanted to go out with Gretchen again. I needed a second shot at trying to get between those lush thighs. I usually hit the mark on the first try, but I was tired after the game and I hadn’t given her my all. That had to be the reason. I refused to believe it was anything else.
She shook her head with a smile before playfully shrugging. “Maybe.”
She turned away, getting into her car. Her dress lifted, showing off a firm thigh, and I bit my bottom lip.
“See you in class,” she said before shutting her car door.
And then she was driving off, leaving me standing in the dark parking lot alone, except for a few stragglers rushing home.
I didn’t want to think it, but I couldn’t help myself. Gretchen had upped the game. Not only was she fucking gorgeous, but apparently, she had an amazing personality to back it up. Evidently, she was immune to my charms, which meant I had to work harder to get her to drop her panties for me. Just like when I was on the field, I was all in and ready to score.
Shit got weird with Gretchen from that first date on. I went from a man on a mission to dick plow her deep diamond to a man on a mission to kiss her. A kiss was nothing. I’d been kissing girls since I was twelve. It was one big fucking step backward on my man card. But the craziest thing of all was that I was actually enjoying it.
We spent our time in class flirting, and when I wasn’t at practice, hanging with the guys, or working on homework, I was with Gretchen at the pizza place stuffing our faces or eating wings at Jim’s, the local sports bar. She was fun, and I realized as the hours passed together that I knew more about her than any other girl I’d ever been with.
We talked. Like actual conversation with a chick.
I was starting to worry that my mangina was getting wet with want. Again, I wondered if I could finger pick my pretty pink pussy since I’d obviously grown one.
I knew stupid shit about her like her favorite color was yellow, and her favorite flower was a daisy. She once had a Springer Spaniel named Dog that died when she was thirteen. The scar on her knee was from a water skiing accident while she was out on the lake with friends in high school. We talked about the dumbest shit, but it was so entertaining and most of all, it was easy.
Even then, I still tried to kiss her every time we parted ways, and every time I would end up kissing her on the cheek. She’d laugh as if it was a big joke, but I knew I’d break through at some point. She couldn’t play hard to get for long. I had stamina in all things; I’d outlast her. No problem.
Our second game we squashed Appalachian State forty-one to ten, and the following week there was a football convention in Columbia, which meant the team was traveling together for a couple of days. I found myself in the state capital enjoying lunch and sightseeing, and I used the time to get to know some of the players on the other teams. On the field, we were rivals, but there wasn’t any reason why we couldn’t chill and be friendly off the field.
When evening rolled around, we were dressed in our best suits and ties and seated at the convention center eagerly waiting for our names to be called. I couldn't wait to be up on that stage with the camera on me.
For the first time since high school, my nemesis came to mind.
Jacob Byrd.
My rival.
The person responsible for any drop of hate I had in my body.
Just thinking of his name made my blood boil. He was the reason I played great all through high school. The reason I had no mercy on the field. Just knowing I had to be better than him was all the push I needed.
I hadn’t seen him since our championship game during our senior year when my team destroyed his. We were on rival teams in the midst of two football towns where the winner took all the glory until the next season. I’d played that championship game so hard that I’d sprained my finger and hadn’t realized it until I was picked up and paraded around the field.
It was good times.
There was a long-standing history with Jacob. One that went all the way back to when we were just kids playing peewee football. I didn’t always hate Jacob Byrd. As a matter of fact, up until we were ten years old, we were as thick as thieves. We were corn-fed, backwoods, red dirt road boys who spent our days fishing and fighting and our nights camping in my daddy’s pastures. It wasn’t until my mom got sick that everything changed.
Breast cancer.
The demolisher of life.
The killer of all things beautiful.
And lucky me, I got to watch my beautiful mother wither like a dying flower and fade away. She lost her courageous battle when I was ten, which I knew had a lot to do with my behavior toward women. I wasn’t mean to girls. I just didn’t do the relationship thing. Secretly, I couldn’t stand the idea of caring about someone and watching them leave again.
Everyone left.
It was the way of things.
I learned that early on in life.
When my mom died, I needed my best friend more than ever. Unfortunately, Jacob wasn’t there for me, which sparked a fire in me. I was as hardheaded as they came, and because of that, I never questioned why. He wasn’t there when he should have been, and I assumed the worst.
Things changed.
It happens.
It’s called growing up and becoming a man.
Not long after my mom died, Jacob’s family moved over an hour away to Cayce and we went from brothers to bitter rivals—in life and on the field. Hating Jacob gave me the push I needed to be the best, and I was sure it was the same for him when it came to me.
So sitting in the back of the convention center among some of the best players that college football had to offer, Jacob Byrd came to mind.
I knew he was in the room somewhere. I kept up with other teams, and I knew he was playing for Newdale University, aka Camden’s biggest rival team. The Camden/Newdale rivalry was bigger than barbecue in South Carolina. It was all about beating Newdale and having bragging rights for the rest of
the year. Not much different from high school, only bigger and televised.
It was fitting, considering our history, that Jacob and I would again end up on rival teams. It made us better players; at least for me anyway. I was never as good as I was when I played against Jacob. And until the final game when Camden and Newdale came together on the field, I’d play every game as if he was on the opposing team.
I wouldn’t call it an obsession, but it was damn close.
Each team was called onto the stage in no particular order. Camden University was the second one to be called, and as we took the stage, I glanced among the other teams, securing my dominance. Suddenly, my eye caught a familiar tuft of red hair.
His eyes locked onto mine and the two of us stared at each other. He shook his head and his lips stretched into his familiar annoying smile.
Keep smiling, asshole.
I couldn’t wait to wipe that shit-eating grin right off his freckled face.
I looked away and listened as Coach McCall spoke into the microphone about our team. Soon, he was done, and we were going back to our seats, waiting for the next team to go up.
When Newdale was going on stage, I secretly envisioned Jacob falling on his face as he took the steps up to the stage. I smirked at the thought, but unfortunately, he made it up the steps unscathed.
I stared at his team, daring him to lock eyes with me again.
He didn’t.
Instead, he smiled politely at everyone around him and listened intently as his coach gave a speech. When he exited, he glanced in my direction and lifted a brow in challenge.
I fucking loved a challenge.
He didn’t know it, but he was giving me exactly what I wanted.
Any bit of animosity we had toward each other when we left high school was still there. It wasn’t over when it came to Jacob Byrd. We had a few more years of college to duke it out. The poor fucker was clueless. He had no idea how badly I was going to kick his ass on the field later in the season, and I could hardly wait to show him.
After the convention, and once we’d all gone back to our hotels to change out of our suits, we met at a local off-campus frat house for a party before all the teams headed back to their schools.
The music was loud, but the partygoers were even louder. College girls lined the room, ready and waiting for a player to pluck them up, but instead of diving into the sea of snatch, I hung out on the side with a few of my teammates. I was fucking exhausted, and I wasn’t sure I even had the energy to get off.
Taking a hard swig from my beer, I eyed the room and the people in it. I was ready to get back to Camden and get my head in the game. This off-time shit was for the birds.
The place was crawling with hot pussy, but I wasn’t feeling it. Yes, I was in a drought, but it seemed the more I drank, the less into it I became. Thanks to the alcohol, my mind kept shifting toward a pretty blonde with green eyes and pouty lips.
When I finished my beer, I stood to go to the keg for more when my eyes landed on Jacob. He was across the room close to the keg, and he was drinking a fucking bottle of water.
Pussy boy.
Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember a time when I’d ever seen Jacob let loose at a party and have a beer. It was kind of what you did for fun in a small town. Teenagers got together and had bonfires on the local farmlands. I never drank too much because of the game, but most kids didn’t have that same self-control. Still, Jacob never joined in on the festivities.
Boring ass.
When he saw me approaching from across the room, he turned his back to me and started talking to the group behind him. He was pretending I didn’t exist, and I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or what, but it pissed me off. My blood ran cold, and instead of going to the keg, I changed direction and went to him.
Grabbing his shoulder, I swung him around to face me. His smiling eyes turned hard, and his expression darkened.
“Don’t turn your fucking back on me, boy.”
Obviously, I’d had too much to drink.
“I don’t have time for this, Sawyer,” he said.
He moved to go around me, but I pressed a hand to his chest to stop him.
“You better make time. This ain’t high school. This is the big leagues, and you had better get ready because I’m going to spend the next couple of years kicking your ass all over the field. Take notes.”
He shook his head before turning his back on me as if I hadn’t just spoken. Fire shot through me, prompting me to swing him around once more.
“Didn’t I say not to turn your back on me?” I asked loudly, pushing him with both hands until he fell back into a table.
It was then a pair of muscled arms circled my chest and pulled me back. Turning, I saw Derrick, one of my roommates, our left tackle and also the biggest motherfucker on the team, as he pulled me away. Leave to it Derrick to cover my ass. He did so on the field and off.
As he spun me around, my eyes moved across the room, noticing for the first time that all attention was on me. I hadn’t realized I was being so loud. In my drunken stupor, I’d embarrassed myself in a room full of women and football players who were all looking at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“I think it’s time to go,” Derrick said, his large arms holding mine at my side.
Before he could pull me away, I leaned in closer to Jacob.
“This ain’t over, Byrd. I’m coming for you. Get ready, motherfucker,” I taunted.
His face split into his annoying grin. The same one I’d spent the last ten years of my life wanting to smack off his face.
“Bring it, Sawyer, but don’t let your mouth write checks your ass can’t cash.”
It wasn’t often that Jacob had any kind of comeback, so the hair on my arms stood on edge, waiting for a fight. I seethed, but I allowed myself to be pushed out of the room and toward the door. The floor beneath me felt like it was shifting. It was then I realized how drunk I was.
Derrick was right.
It was definitely time to go.
Twenty minutes later, I stumbled into the hotel room. Falling into bed, I decided to sleep it off. I knew the ride back to Camden the next day was going to be hell. Driving three hours on a bus full of loud football players while nursing a hangover … I was already dreading it.
Within minutes, I fell asleep. I dreamed of my final game against Jacob Byrd when we were in high school. The best game of my life so far.
Time was running out; the fourth quarter winding down fast. I gazed up at the clock, wishing we had more time.
There was never enough fucking time.
My team was winded. They’d played their fucking asses off, and I was proud because even though I knew they were exhausted, they were also ready for another play.
Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, rushing down my spine past my pads. My throwing arm was sore, and my rotator cuff felt as if it were seconds from giving out.
Cracking my neck, I swung my arm in circles to loosen it, refusing to let it slow down my game.
“Huddle up!” I called out, bringing the boys in.
Glancing over at the opposing sideline, my eyes found Jacob Byrd, the cocky son-of-a-bitch. As soon as my eyes met his, the usual deep-rooted hate came rushing in.
Hate.
It was the final ingredient for the game when it came to me. When I felt the rush of anger, I knew I’d be able to pull out a win. I could throw farther. I could rush faster. It was all I needed to take the championship win right out of that bastard’s hands.
He stared me down from the sidelines, his blue eyes burrowing into mine. He was my match physically. We were both tall motherfuckers; both stacked from working out and tossing hay bales, which made beating him all the sweeter.
Lifting a brow in challenge, he shot me his usual shit-eating smirk. He was a good player, I’d give him that, but I was seconds away from knocking that smartass smirk from his face. All he could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as my boys knocked his defensive pl
ayers on their asses.
He shifted his helmet from one hand to the other before wiping his hand on the towel attached to his grass-stained pants. He’d played hard. It was one of the main reasons I loved playing against Jacob. I knew when I beat him, I was beating one of the best. He’d never be as good as I am, but still, it was the game, and I loved the game.
I could see Coach Ronny running and yelling from the sidelines out of the corner of my eye. Looking over, I smiled to myself when he nodded, letting me know he trusted me to make the final call.
Turning back to the guys, they waited anxiously as I made my announcement. My team was my everything—my bodyguards, my buddies—my brothers. They would go to war for me, and I’d do the same for them.
“Let's do a screen pass,” I said, drawing a smile from my boys. “Brock, don’t let me down, man. I’m going to put the ball in your chest. Catch it and throw it. No showboating. Let’s win this thing.”
Brock, the running back and my best friend, nodded. “I got you, bro. Hit me in the chest and I’ll do the rest.”
“All right, boys, let’s go out with a bang. Screen on three. Ready. Break!” We all called out and clapped our hands in unison.
I went to my position on the ten-yard line, watching to make sure everyone lined up. The opposing team, the Eagles, lined up against my Knights, and silence moved over me.
I didn’t hear the crowd of my peers. I didn’t hear the cheerleaders, one of which I’d been banging for the last three weeks, and I didn’t hear the sound of the whistles when the refs blew them. All I heard was silence—thick and serene.
The snap was quick, the ball filling my hands making my adrenaline reach dangerous levels. I backed up, my eyes scanning the side field for Brock. And then I saw him. He was at the mark and ready for the ball. My shoulder ached when I reared back, but when I let it go, it spiraled, catching him directly in the chest.
I’d shocked the other team by throwing the ball away from the end zone and the field went crazy; runners running and the blockers blocking. I ran to my mark and turned just in time for Brock to throw the ball my way. It landed perfectly in my hands, filling me with joy and filling the opposing team with confusion.
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