The Lie : a bad boy sports romance

by Karla Sorensen

  I pried my eyes open and caught a glimpse of Faith’s wide smile. She had the tiniest gap between her two front teeth, and I’d never noticed it before.

  A bunch of kids gathered around us, and I heard one of them whisper, “Holy shit, that’s Dominic Walker.”

  “Maggie, you knocked off Dominic Walker’s balls,” another said.

  A sound came from my mouth, possibly a whimper, a little bit of a curse word, and Faith cleared her throat loudly to cover my swearing. “Okay, guys, give him some room to breathe.” She laid a hand on my shoulder, nothing more than a light touch, but her fingers were cool and soft against the skin of my neck where they brushed the edge of my shirt. “Are you okay?”

  I blew out a hard breath through puffed cheeks, managing a nod. “I think so.”

  She grinned. “Can you stand?”

  I gave her a look. Her hand left my shoulder, and she placed it on the little girl hovering at her side. As I braced a booted foot on the ground to stand, I finally realized just how small she was … the one who about castrated me.

  There was no way she was much older than six or seven, but her wild, messy crown of auburn hair and big terrified brown eyes knocked the air from my lungs for a completely different reason.

  She didn’t look like Ivy in her coloring or her stature. But something about those eyes had me frozen.

  “I’m really sorry,” she said, turning her petite frame into Faith’s legs. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No,” I managed, pushing myself up to my full height. I mean, sure, all my blood was currently throbbing between my legs in painful pulses, but I wasn’t mad. “You’ve got quite the arm.”

  The little girl smiled. “I’m better than my brother.”

  “You are not!” a taller kid with the same coloring yelled.

  “Am too!” she yelled back. “You couldn’t hit the side of a semitruck, Blake.”

  He started to argue, and I held out my hand. “Your name is Blake?” I asked.

  Eyes filled with awe, he came over—skinny chest puffed out—and shook my hand. “Uh-huh. And she’s not better than me. I taught her how to throw.”

  Faith laughed quietly, casting her attention to all the kids starting to circle around us. “I think we should start a little game, don’t you?”

  They all cheered.

  Maggie, the girl who’d thrown the ball, still stared up at me like I was going to lash out or lose my temper on her simply because I walked out of the door at the wrong time.

  “You gonna be my QB?” I asked.

  “Me?” she squeaked. The boys all groaned.

  I nodded. “Quarterback has to have a strong arm, good aim, and a cool head. Can you manage that with all these guys trying to keep me from catching the ball?”

  “Totally,” she breathed.

  Her brother opened his mouth, but I gave him a stern look. “She gets first up, no arguments.”

  “She’s a girl,” Blake said.

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  Faith cleared her throat again.

  “Sorry,” I murmured in her direction.

  “It’s okay,” she answered.

  The kids spread out, following my direction, and to my surprise, in her silk tank and expensive shoes, Faith lined up opposite my four-person offensive line.

  “You think you can defend me, sunshine?”

  She didn’t answer, just gave me a sly grin that had me questioning whether I wanted to play this game at all.

  But within a few minutes, any apprehension I’d had walking through the door was gone.

  We attracted a crowd of other kids, older and taller, who wanted to join in once they realized it was me out here with the young ones.

  “Next game is yours,” I told them, wiping a sheen of sweat off my brow.

  Maggie took the ball from my hands, and our team huddled up. “Pass to you again?” she asked.

  A skinny kid next to her, with thin braids along his scalp, raised his hand. “Can I try to catch this time?”

  “You bet,” I told him. “What’s your name?”

  “Desmond.” He tugged his shorts up. “I can run fast, I promise.”

  I heard Faith’s team laugh at something she told them, and when I glanced over my shoulder, she looked so beautiful when she laughed, I forgot what I was saying.

  I didn’t want Faith to be my type. Not at all.

  Because she was not something I should’ve been noticing. Not the way she treated the kids or the way she’d treated me since I arrived with an attitude I’d carried through my entire morning, not her fingers against the skin of my neck or how she seemed to be completely self-assured, even carrying about such beautiful features.

  Maggie called my name, and I snapped my attention from Faith back to my pint-sized teammates. We called the play and stuck our hands in the middle. I had to take a second because with all of them staring up at me, it was like getting glimpses of myself at that age. Theirs was the kind of neighborhood, the kind of childhood I’d had. Except I’d had nowhere like this to go to.

  Desmond gave Maggie a look. “Aren’t we supposed to be doing something?”

  “Sorry,” I told him. “Just … blanked out for a second. All right, on three,” I told them. “One, two…”

  Everyone paused. Maggie looked at me, and I looked at the kid next to me.

  “What are we supposed to say on three?” Desmond asked.

  I smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll get it next time.”

  After we’d lined up, Faith sidled herself in front of me, assuming I’d take the throw again. She bent her knees in readiness, eyes narrowed and lips curled in a smile.

  Maggie called the play, and I spun around Faith, sprinting toward the end zone, with every single person on their team chasing me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Maggie toss the ball to Desmond, who clutched it to his chest like it was made of gold, and he took off, his legs churning furiously.

  I raised my arms in victory, yelling as he crossed the end zone. Jogging to him, I swooped him up and tossed him in the air while our team screamed and jumped.

  Faith, joined by Keisha, watched with big smiles as I high-fived everyone around me. Faith pulled out her phone and asked us to pose for a picture. Desmond and Maggie flanked me, their skinny arms wrapped around me while I kneeled in the middle of all the kids.

  Keisha handed me a Sharpie. “Would you mind signing the ball? We’ll keep it in the classroom on our special shelf.”

  “Aw, man,” Maggie said. “That was my favorite ball.”

  “Can I send the center a few more to replace it?” I asked.

  Keisha nodded immediately. “We’d be so grateful, thank you.”

  “What else do you need?” I asked, scrawling my name over the surface of the ball.

  When I looked up, Faith watched with a careful smile. Fuck if I didn’t love that smile, and the fact that I’d put it on her face.

  Keisha took the ball when I handed it to her. “Any sports equipment that can be shared by all the kids gets used the most. Bats, balls for any sport, gloves, jump ropes. You name it, they love it.”

  “You got it,” I told her.

  She gave me a warm smile. “Thank you, Dominic. The kids will talk about this all year long.” Then she turned to Faith. “Speaking of big events, I got the invite for the Black and White Ball.”

  Faith smiled. “Can you come?”

  Keisha nodded. “Wouldn’t miss it. I’ll dust off my fancy dress.” She smiled at me. “Faith sponsors a table at the Team Sutton fundraiser and invites different program directors from the places that have received annual grants from Team Sutton. It’s one of my favorite events every year.”

  “It’s our primary fundraiser,” Faith explained. “A lot of the team shows up, and we do a silent auction among a few other things.”

  “And this is your big year,” Keisha said, nudging Faith with her elbow.

  She tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. “It’s just a quick speech.”
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br />   “Stop being so modest.” Keisha shook her head. “You’ll be an incredible director, Faith.”

  Faith eyed me under her lashes, carefully studying my face. And I couldn’t blame her with how I’d acted.

  Before I could say anything or study Faith’s reaction further, Maggie tugged on my hand. I crouched down to her height.

  “What’s up?”

  She inhaled, visibly gathering her courage. “Thank you for letting me be quarterback.”

  “You’re welcome.” I could tell she wanted to hug me, but I held my hand up for a high five instead. If this little girl with the big arm and huge eyes hugged me, I’d be a goner. Maggie tapped my hand with hers.

  “The boys never let me throw the ball,” she said quietly.

  “I bet they will now.” I ruffled her hair. “Don’t forget to set that back foot, okay? Keep your elbow in.”

  She grinned. “I’m gonna play football someday. You watch.”

  Her words pierced straight through a tiny opening in my ribs, and I felt the slow hiss of air leave my body. “I believe you,” I answered quietly. As she took off on the playground, I wanted to escape from that schoolyard and not look back. All of it, even the good parts, had me feeling strangely raw. The slightest touch to that area, and it would bleed for days before it could start healing.

  When I stood, I felt Faith’s gaze on me. Keisha was still talking to Faith about the fancy dinner where she’d be center stage. Then Keisha glanced down at her watch.

  “Oh, fracksticks, I have to get back to my office for a meeting.”

  My eyes zipped to Keisha’s face. “What did you just say?”

  She laughed. “Stole that off Faith. She always says it.”

  Faith shrugged, giving me a strange look as I stared at her. “I’m around too many kids on a weekly basis. If I don’t find creative ways to swear, I’d get myself fired really quick.”

  If I thought I’d felt raw before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. I’d never heard that phrase anywhere except from one person. My heart thudded erratically as I stared at the line of Faith’s neck, underneath the dark curtain of hair that covered her shoulders. I couldn’t see a golden chain, but with the way the neckline of her shirt fell, that wasn’t too surprising.

  “I-I have to go too,” I said.

  Faith gave me a tentative smile. “I hope it wasn’t too bad. I know the kids would probably love to see you again.”

  But I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

  I nodded, brushing past her to the chain-link gate that separated the schoolyard from the parking lot.

  I could hardly pull my phone out fast enough, scrolling to the messaging app and clicking on Turbo’s profile picture. There wasn’t a single piece of hair showing in the picture, nothing I could compare definitively to Faith. Just the line of her neck. The curve of her jaw.

  When I raised my head, Faith was standing in the playground, staring after me, shading her eyes from the sun.

  And she stood that way as I cranked my truck on and backed out of the spot, my heart pounding and my mind racing.

  If Faith was Turbo, Turbo was Faith, then I’d been the biggest asshole in the entire world to the one person who’d made life bearable for me. And I wasn’t sure what to do with that until I knew if it was true.

  Faith

  Dominic’s exit—not to mention his amazing visit with the kids at the center—could hardly get a foothold in my head before my phone rang from the office. I found a quiet bench in the sun and picked up the call.

  “This is Faith.”

  “Did you see the email?” my assistant asked. Kim’s breathy excitement had me smiling, even if I had no clue what she was talking about.

  “No, I’m out by Keisha. We had a player visit come up last minute.”

  She paused. “That wasn’t on your calendar.”

  “I know, I forgot to tell you,” I answered with a wince. I’d only been the official director for less than a year. Sometimes, I forgot that I was supposed to be updating someone on where I was. “Allie asked me to facilitate this one personally.”

  “Ahh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Either he’s a troublemaker or he’s looking to write a big check.”

  I laughed. “The former.”

  “Who is it?”

  Her tone wasn’t mean, but it hit that low, excited pitch, the kind you heard when someone was digging for some juicy gossip. Not only that but I was still puzzling through what I’d witnessed and how great he’d been with the kids, considering he was about as friendly as a cactus. Talking bad about him didn’t feel right, in some way.

  “Kim,” I said gently, “you called about an email?”

  Her demeanor flipped like a switch. “Right. Sorry.” Kim cleared her throat. “We got three big donations today, not even connected to the dinner, and we can fund all the requests that came through for the next six months.”

  I grinned. “That’s great. Even the community theater project?”

  “Even that.”

  We’d honed our mission at Team Sutton to focus on after-school programs for kids in elementary and middle school in lower-income areas, where the extracurricular activities were just too expensive. The skills the kids learned from such things as playing in sports, participating in plays, and getting some extra help with their reading had lasting impacts on the rest of their life.

  “They need a huge renovation to that gym to be able to start the program,” I said, putting my phone on speaker and flipping over to my email so I could review the donations. Two were from players on the Wolves and one from a well-known actress who had moved to Seattle a couple of years earlier. I’d have to reach out to her and send a thank you because her check had a lot of zeros.

  What a weird, weird job I had.

  Kim’s voice interrupted. “Are you coming back to the office this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I’m heading in soon. I need to follow up on a few of the new fund requests because they forgot to include their estimates from vendors.”

  “Faith,” she chided. “That’s not something you need to do anymore. Maybe when you were an intern.”

  “I know, I know. Thank you, Kim.”

  I could hear the smile in her voice when she answered. “So you’ll still be able to make the three o’clock meeting?”

  I covered my face with my hand because I’d totally forgotten about it. “Remind me of that one again?”

  She laughed. “To finalize the silent auction items for the dinner. We may need to reach out to former donors for some more. I think your dad is coming too.”

  “Right. That meeting.” With a glance at my watch and a mental GPS route of how long it would take me to get back to the Team Sutton offices, I blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, I should be there in plenty of time.”

  “See you soon, boss,” she said and hung up.

  With my phone still in my hand, I saw a notification from Nick and smiled. When I clicked on it, I saw it had come through just before Kim had called.

  NicktheBrickLayer: How’s your day going? I need someone to have a more exciting day than mine.

  TurboGirl: Not bad so far. Got to do the fun stuff this morning. Now I have to go do the boring meeting stuff.

  He started messaging, and the sight of the dancing dots had my heart rate picking up. We so rarely connected in the moment.

  NicktheBrickLayer: You know, you’ve never actually told me what it is you do. You were still in school when we “met.”

  With a loaded exhale, I squinted up at the bright sky. He was right. I’d never told him on purpose. There was this account, the one that didn’t hold a single hint as to who I was, and there was my official Faith Pierson—director of Team Sutton—account, one carefully curated by the PR team at the foundation. I’d never had anything to do with that one, which suited me just fine, but with Nick asking me like this, it felt like I was … lying.

  How did Tom Hanks make it look so easy in You’ve Got Mail? Pro
bably because he was Tom Hanks. And when I got reactions like the open hostility from Dominic Walker, it only served to make me that much more wary to be honest.

  Tapping my thumb on the side of my phone, I mulled over what I could say.

  TurboGirl: I work for the organization my stepmom started. I was young when she married my dad, so I was always at the offices. It was a natural fit for me, I guess. After college, I kinda took over the office. Most people would look at it as a boring desk job with lots of paperwork and meetings, but I like what we do.

  NicktheBrickLayer: But this morning wasn’t boring?

  TurboGirl: Got to play a little football actually. My team lost, but we gave it our best try.

  The dots came up again and then disappeared. That happened two more times. When I glanced at the clock to see how long it was taking him to respond, I realized I’d been sitting for too long.

  “Oh, fracksticks,” I whispered. Nick would have to wait, I thought as I shoved my phone into my bag and took off toward the parking lot. I’d still make the meeting in plenty of time as long as the traffic wasn’t too bad on the way back to the office.

  Stabbing my key in the ignition, I cranked it over … and nothing.

  My car wouldn’t start.

  I pulled it out and stared at it like it would give me an explanation, then tried to start it again. Nothing.

  “Oh, come on,” I groaned. I sent Kim a text and told her I might be late and got out of the car. My jacket came off first, then I tugged a hair tie out of my console and jammed my hair into a messy ponytail while I walked around to yank open the hood of my car.

  I pulled open my phone and dialed my dad’s number. He was in the thick of helping with recruitment—looking for free agents just like Dominic—for the upcoming season at Washington, but he picked up on the first ring.

  “Hey, Turbo,” he said, but his voice sounded distracted. “What’s up?”

  “My car won’t start.” I peered at the engine. “I think it’s the battery, but I don’t know for sure.”

  “Shit. Are you at the office? Someone could give you a jump, right?”

  I rubbed my forehead. “No, I’m out at Keisha’s community center. I don’t exactly have jumper cables in my car.”