by Teagan Kade
I pick up the pace and he falls back. “We’ll see, son. We’ll see.”
As I approach, I see Sam still seated trying to remain as invisible as possible. I’ve tried my best to get the press to leave her alone following what happened, but it’s proven to be an impossible task, so fuck it. If you can’t hide it, flaunt it.
I stop at the wall and hold my hands up. “Come on down,” I beam.
She’s smiling. “I can’t.”
Her girlfriends from her old apartment block insist. “Go!” they plead, lifting her from her seat and helping her down over the barrier. “Go on.”
Sam slips and falls, but I catch her in my arms and place her on her feet. “Like I said, I’ve got you.”
We kiss, Sam settling into it and the roar growing around us as the kiss is shown on jumbo-tron. Horns go off. There’s screaming and catcalling, more people stopping to congratulate me, but I only have time for Sam.
I hold her face in my hands. Hidden by the curtain of her hair, I place my forehead against hers and breathe her in.
“You smell,” she says.
“Like man-sex, right?”
She looks at me quizzically. “I don’t think that came out quite like you meant it.”
“Maybe not, but I think there’s room for two in the shower back home.”
“Back home? What about your fans, your team? You should celebrate.”
“There’s only one person I want to celebrate with.”
She kisses me again before pushing me away. “Go on. Have some fun. I’ll be waiting.”
My teammates pick me up and start to carry me around the stadium.
Sam, the love of my life, stands there waving, her friends cheering above.
I’m on top of the world. Things finally feel together, like they should, like this is what happiness can be.
It’s a solid hour before the crowd starts to thin out and I can escape from the masses. I collect Sam and walk her hand-in-hand to the Mustang, helping her into the passenger seat.
I get in and suddenly the world is quiet. There are no screaming fans in here, no drunken horn-blowing. It is, blissfully, just Sam and me.
“It’s really quiet in here, isn’t it?” she muses.
“Not for long.” I turn the key, the engine rumbling to life, eager to get home and into the shower, the bed, onto the kitchen table… wherever. “Where to?”
“How about Hawaii?” she replies.
I raise an eyebrow. “Hawaii? I don’t think Mustang’s waterproof, sorry.”
“No, I mean I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii, go to Oahu and Diamond Hill. It was the last place my parent’s visited before…”
I reach over and take her hand. “You want to go to Hawaii, we’ll go to Hawaii.” I start to drive off. “Just let me get some more gas first.”
ONE MONTH LATER
Huuuuuhhhhh. The ship’s horn blows, the sun bright overhead and the heatwave that gripped the city long gone to be replaced with its familiar, mild clime. It’s been perfection, actually, and no, I’m not just talking about the weather.
Sam spins around. “I can’t believe we’re about to set sail.”
“Wait until you see the suite.”
“Does it have a bed?”
“Considering what it cost, I sure as hell hope so.”
She presses up against me. “Good, because that’s all I need—you and somewhere to sleep.”
“Who said anything about sleep?”
It’s hard to believe another season is over, not that my mind’s been that occupied with football given recent events.
“Everything okay?” Hand on my cheek, Sam turns me towards her.
I smile down into her almond face, glancing up at the cruise ship docked behind her. “A fourteen-night cruise to Hawaii with the hottest girl in the world? I’d say that’s okay.”
She kisses me, forced up onto her toes to do so. I return it, holding her waist, and really wish we weren’t here on the dock with a couple of thousand other passengers so I could have my way with her. Soon enough, my friend. Soon enough.
“Look at you two lovebirds.”
It’s David and his wife Sarah.
I break away and embrace him. Sam does likewise with Sarah, the two of them becoming close in the weeks gone by.
“Where are the girls?” I ask.
The two of them exchange a look only a married couple could come up with. “Thank god for grandparents,” Sarah replies, squeezing David’s hand.
I laugh. “You guys make me want to puke sometimes.”
David puts on mock offense. “Like you two can talk what with your constant grabby grabby and tongue wrestling.”
I pull Sam close and give her butt a squeeze. “We like to display our love publically. Is that a crime?”
David’s eyebrows lift. “Depends whether you’re clothed or not, I suppose.”
Chance’s smile grows. “Oh, clothes will definitely be lacking in our cabin. Don’t you worry about that.”
David pretends he’s blind. “Eye bleach! Where’s the eye bleach?” Sarah elbows him and his eyes snap open to Sam. “I wasn’t talking about you, Sam. You’re beautiful.”
Sarah rolls her eyes at me, reaching forward and taking Sam’s arm. “Come on, Sam. Why don’t we grab a coffee and let those two knuckleheads kiss each other goodbye.”
I watch the two of them go off together when something bumps into my leg. I look down to find a little boy in a Wildcats’s cap standing in my shadow. I notice Mom standing off to the side.
“Mr. Adams?” he queries in a squeaky voice. “Can I have your autograph?”
I reach down and take the playing card and pen he’s holding in his hand. I look a bit worn in the picture. It was only taken at the start of the season, but in it I see someone I barely recognize. How far I’ve come. How far we have come.
“Mr. Adams?” asks the kid again since I’m standing there gaping at myself like an idiot.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Chance,” he replies.
I hand the card back with a wink at Mom. “Your parents have good taste.”
‘Thank you,’ Mom mouths back.
The kid runs off. I notice David standing there with his hands on his hips. “What’s with you?”
“You’re standing here with perhaps the greatest wide receiver the game has ever seen and I don’t even get a second glance.”
I shrug, smiling. “I can’t help it if all the fans want me.”
David pokes me in the chest. “And here I was thinking you were finally falling back down to Earth.”
I look over to Sam sipping on her coffee by the cart, picturing the way she bucked below me this morning as she came, the way her pussy gripped my shaft in the throes of it. “Far from it, my friend. Far from it.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“Kids,” continues David. “You seem pretty good with them. The girls love you. When are you two going to start a family of your own?”
“Whoa, we’re not even married yet and you’re already trying to sort play dates?”
David crosses his arms. “I’m just sayin’, you better put a ring on that sooner rather than later.”
“You think she’s going to run off on me?”
“I see the way you two are together. It’s an inevitability. Why procrastinate?”
“You just want to get wasted kid-free at the wedding, don’t you?”
He nods. “It has been a long time since I’ve been to a wedding… or slept with a bridesmaid.”
It takes me a second to catch on. “I see what you did there, but you’re way ahead here. I mean, I, you know. It’s not—”
He shakes his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say my line of questioning here is making the mighty woman slayer that is Chance Adams sweat a little, no?”
He knows me too well. “I’m not ready. It’s too soon.”
David continues shaking his head. “Suit yourself.”
> The girls arrive just in time.
Sarah hands a coffee to David. “What are you two scheming here?”
David looks to me. “Just planning ahead.”
An announcement comes over the PA for boarding to begin. Sam starts to pull on my arm, always a stickler for punctuality. “Come on, babe. They’re boarding.”
Sarah takes the hint. “We’ll leave you guys to it.” She comes forward and hugs us in turn. “You two be good, you hear?”
“I’m always good,” I protest.
Sam swats my ass. “I’ll keep him in line. Don’t worry.”
David puckers his lips at me. “Good. I wouldn’t want that sweet little butt of yours to come back as damaged property.”
Now I’m the one shaking my head. “Come here, you fucker.”
I pull him in for an embrace, slap him twice on the back before pushing him away. “Now get, we got business to attend to.”
Sam sidles up beside me as the two of them work back through the crowds waving. “Business?”
I run my hands down her waist, desperately wanting to keep running them inside her pants. “Dirty, dirty business.”
As I kiss her, I think over David’s words. He’ll kill me when we get back.
Carefully as I can, I run my hand into my pocket, checking one final time that the ring is still there.
EPILOGUE
SAM
The team is huddled tight together, Chance arm-in-arm with them. I stand to the side listening to him speak to his troops.
“We’re going to out there,” he says, “and we’re going to kick some ass. Who’s with me?”
The players let up a war cry.
“Hands in the middle, and break.”
I watch as the team heads onto the field, Chance pulling up by my side looking a little too proud. “You think you’ve got this one in the bag, don’t you?”
He looks at me with complete confidence. “I am their coach, am I not? How could they not win?”
I place my forefinger under my chin. “I don’t know. Maybe because they’re all under five?”
The first play is a shambles, both teams fumbling the ball and more than one player completely confused as to where they should be running. Another’s already running to the sidelines looking for Mommy.
“That way!” shouts Chance. “Not… no… Oh, hell.”
I have to laugh. “Not as easy as it looks, huh?”
He’s got his hands on his head. “And I though the early nineties Colts were bad. It’s like these kids are deliberately trying to make me look bad.”
“You’re the one who’s going to have to explain to their parents why they’re suddenly running around saying they’re going to ‘kick ass.’”
We both smile, Chance pulling me into a tight embrace.
I push back a little. “Careful. You wouldn’t want to squash another future quarterback, would you?”
His hands move down to the small bump of my belly.
“It’s not a crystal ball, you know.”
He closes his eyes. “I see fame and fortune, women falling at his feet.”
“His? You seem pretty damn certain it’s a boy.”
He looks around me to our one-year-old daughter giggling away in her stroller, Felicity, our little lucky charm, even if Chance has got into the habit of calling her ‘Flick.’ I’m much more partial to ‘Fee,’ but you can’t have everything.
Or can you?
I’ve got the man of my dreams and the stable love I always thought was a construct of Hollywood and pulpy romance novels. People say you can’t love one person for a lifetime, but I beg to differ. I’m whole when I’m with Chance, empowered. Everything is just that little bit more alive, more exciting when shared with someone you’ve poured your soul out to.
And the sex… Those same people are all ‘it’s different after you’ve had a baby, you’ll lose interest,’ but nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, we’re even closer now, more adventurous in the bedroom… and kitchen, and dining room, and car. I feel like a teenager again.
Chance is on top of his game with the Cats, helping them to yet another NFL championship. Companies are knocking down our door for endorsement opportunities, but Chance’s number-one priority is his family. He wants to spend as much time as possible with us, even managed to talk Morgan into cutting back on his training hours.
It’s so weird to think of our first meeting in that tiny massage room, the arrogant boy with his bravado and endless lines. The boy, that life, is gone and in its place is a man with everything he’s ever wanted and more.
I smile with the satisfaction that whatever problems may come, whatever challenges may arise, we’re going to face them hand-in-hand, together, as a family.
I turn and follow his gaze to our daughter, can’t get enough of the way his face lights whenever he sees her.
I reach down and lightly brush his crotch, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “Guess you got your happy ending after all.”
LOADED
Teagan Kade
* * * * *
Published by Teagan Kade
Edited by Sennah Tate
Copyright © 2016 by Teagan Kade
CHAPTER ONE
WILLOW
I duck a flying jellybean.
The professor continues to toss them out to the class. “High-fructose candy for you, and you, and you. Death to health for all.”
I pity him. You’ve got to get creative about getting students to class when the college allows everything to be online. God forbid anyone would actually want to come, to actually learn. No, all anyone cares about here is sports, getting wasted, sports, maybe following that up with an STD or three… and more sports.
Students churn through the double doors at the bottom of the auditorium, but I hang back running through my notes. It’s looking a lot like gibberish.
The professor calls up. “Can you get the lights when you’re done, Willow?”
“Yes, Professor,” I call back.
He pauses on his way out, looking up. “You’re not going to the game?”
The Hellcats baseball team—the prize of Penbrook. They’ve won three College World Series in a row and show every sign of making it four thanks to team captain and campus man-whore Asher Slade. The guy’s got the key to the city, so to speak. He does what he wants, when he wants, completely uninhibited. And then there are his grades—mysteriously high for someone who’s either drunk or unclothed most hours of the day. I’ve seen the pictures, the size of that thing. He hardly needs a bat to hit a home run.
“Suit yourself,” says the professor, the doors closing behind him with a solid thunk.
Vacant, the auditorium takes on a completely different persona—one of quiet contemplation rather than a cattle farm. This is how I like it.
Empty, alone, my head fills.
My pen hovers over the page. I’m thinking back to the night everything changed, a new habit in my self-enforced solitude.
You’re hundreds of miles away. No one here knows, but even I can’t convince myself.
A gunshot-like crack outside causes me to jump. Frat boys with firecrackers, no doubt.
Why does everyone insist on going barn-owl crazy before a game? I wouldn’t know. I haven’t attended one yet.
I snap my workbook closed and stand.
Let them have their petty fill of entertainment.
I’ve got work to do.
*
The line for coffee is long at the Grind House, the tiny café directly across from the dormitories. Everyone wants their pre-game caffeine fix. I want to work through the night. I’ve got three assignments due and nothing less than a 4.0 GPA is going to cut it if I want to retain my scholarship. No one said pre-med was going to be easy, but I never expected it to be this hard. I’m already skating perilously close the edge, my future evaporating.
There’s one guy making coffees—one person. It’s ridiculous.
“How long does it fucking ta
ke to pour a cup, bro?” the human Hulk in front of me questions, clad head to foot in Hellcat colors.
Others up and down the line murmur in agreement. It seems I’m the only one not wearing orange and white tonight, or plastic devil horns.
Twenty minutes later I’m about to step up to the counter when something blurs in front of me, pushing me back.
“Hey?” I call, but it’s so quiet it sounds like a greeting rather than a question.
The man-giant who cut in ignores me, fist-bumping the guy behind the counter. “What the fuck’s doing, fuck-face? Can you dial me up a quick lava java before the game?”
Counter Boy smiles. “Sure thing, Asher. Coming right up.”
I check the number on the back of the jersey—sixty-nine. It’s him. It’s Asher damn-him Slade.
I’m momentarily distracted by the way his butt is tightly packaged away in those beach-white knee breeches. He’s cute, yes, but if he thinks he can just cut into the line because he’s some sort of superstar, because he’s every girl’s wet dream, he can think again.
I take a deep breath and tap him on the shoulder.
He keeps talking to the guy making the coffees.
I tap a little harder, clearing my throat for emphasis.
This time he turns. He looks curiously at his shoulder before looking down at me. “Oh, shit. I didn’t see you there.”
Didn’t see me here? What am I? An ant? My voice wavers. “You… cut in. People are waiting here.”
He laughs, pearly teeth gleaming. I bet panties drop whenever he pulls that smile, but no sir. Not here. No, my underwear is remaining firmly fixed in place.
He looks me up and down, and assesses I’m no threat. “I’ve got a game to get to.”
He goes to turn away, but I take hold of his shoulder. It’s like gripping a chunk of marble. “That’s not fair,” I add, voice breaking. Can you even hear how stupid you sound right now?
Others have started to pay attention. Now he has an audience. I sense Asher preparing to perform.
He removes my hand gently, his fingers hot around my wrist, and turns to face me full frontal. His eyes run down to the crotch of my jeans. “All you had to do was ask if you wanted to get hands-on.” He licks his lower lip. It’s full and inviting, a soft contrast to the definition in his jaw. “Nothing like a pre-game workout.”
