Fourth Down and Dirty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (9 page)

I was studying on
the back porch under the shade of my favorite tree. It was the afternoon and my
mother was sleeping soundly. Out of nowhere, my phone buzzed and I quickly
picked it up off the table to check who it was. The Tutoring Center was calling
me. I was instantly thrown into a panic.

The Tutoring
Center rarely called, especially on my day off. I couldn’t think of any loose
ends I left for them to call and ask about. There was only one thing I could
think of and it made my stomach drop. I knew Stella would never tell anyone
about Landon and I, but maybe there was security camera footage from the
stairwell or something.

I answered before
the call was sent to voicemail. “Ivy,” my supervisor’s voice came in from the
other end, “I know it’s your day off but we wanted to know if you could go meet
with Landon Bryce’s coach in an hour.” My insides started to turn to ice, “He
needs a progress report and the sooner the better.” I breathed and audible sigh
of relief over the phone.

I felt instantly
relieved. That didn’t last long, however. Maybe the coach knew about us and he
was taking it upon himself to confront me about it. I agreed and ended the
call, going to get ready before checking on my mom. As I put on my outfit I
laid out the night before, I realized I was terrified of what the coach would
say. I took a quick glance in the mirror. My navy blue skirt reached just above
my knees. I let out a long sigh. This was supposed to be a good day with a cute
outfit. I wasn’t supposed to get fired. I gulped, smoothed out the skirt, and
walked out of the bedroom.

I left a glass of
water on the coffee table in case mom needed it before walking out the door and
heading to campus.

As I walked across
campus, closer and closer to the stadium, I thought about how I had never even
been to the stadium before. As soon as the stadium came into view I cringed. It
was god-awful and ugly compared to the rest of campus. It was this glistening
modern building that clashed with all the older brick buildings. I pulled out
my phone to double-check the message Stella had sent me, informing me the
offices were located in a tunnel underneath the stadium. The directions didn’t
help. Somehow I got lost and ended up making two wrong turns that caused me to
get there eight minutes late.

I stopped dead in
my tracks. Landon was already sitting there. I realized at that moment how
silly it was for it not to cross my mind that he would be there. I clutched my
chest and attempted to catch my breath. I was tired from scurrying around the
stadium in a lost panic.

Without a word, I
sat down and tried to ignore the heat rising off of Landon sitting next to me.
He didn’t even turn to look at me once I sat down. I hated to admit it, but his
lack of regard toward me stung. Mere seconds later, the Coach stepped out of
his office and called us inside. The two of us took our seats across Coach
Kingsley and tried to stave off the awkwardness as much as possible.

“How are your
grades?” He asked Landon pointedly, after only merely greeting me more as a
formality than anything else.

“They're getting
better,” Landon mumbled his reply.

I was pleased to
hear it come from his mouth, but I just nodded solemnly. The two of us were
sort of pretending I wasn’t there, even if for completely different reasons.

“Is it true,
then?” It was obvious the coach wasn’t taking Landon’s word for it.

Luckily, I had
come prepared. I nodded with a smile and pulled out a thin folder to show Coach
Kingsley the proof inside. I started by showing Landon's record of attendance
to prove he really was putting in the time and effort.

“He hasn’t missed
a single session, first misstep aside,” I informed the Coach. Then I pulled out
his original draft of his History term paper and showed him the final product.
“We worked on this together for more than one session, but he pulled a good
amount of the weight on his own, even completing homework tasks I set up for
him.”

For the first time
since I arrived, Landon looked at me. I felt my chest tighten when he shot me a
grateful look for backing him up and proving to the coach he was being honest.
I was proud of him and hoped he was proud of himself as well. He had gone from
being someone who stormed into the Tutoring Center demanding he be let off the
hook, to an actual student who put in thought and effort.

The Coach pulled
the paperwork toward him and squinted at it, but I could tell he was just
pretending to scrutinize it. Everything was for show. All Coach Kingsley cared
about was getting the forms filled out properly so Landon could continue
playing. He muttered something under his breath before nodding and shoving a
piece of paper at me to sign.

I quickly looked
it over.
 
It was a verification of
Landon’s grades improving.

“You’d better not
make a liar out of me for signing these,” I joked under my breath as the Coach
rummaged through a box behind his desk, back turned to us. I grinned at Landon
with a sideways glance.

He made a face I
couldn’t make out as he finally spoke to me, “I wouldn't do that to you."

I paused, holding
the pen above the signature line and staring hard at the black print on the
white paper. I felt my chest tighten more. There was a lot more weight to his
words than I expected.

This wasn’t his
usual teasing.

After the Coach
dismissed us, I had to practically scurry out the door to catch up with Ivy. I
know she heard me trying to catch up with her, but she didn’t bother turning
around.
 
I took matters into my own hands
and quickly sidestepped in front of her.

 
“So, you coming to the homecoming game?”

Ivy stared at me.
After my icy treatment earlier she probably didn’t expect to have a
conversation with me at all, much less one so normal.

“I’ve never even
been to the stadium before.”

I looked at her
shocked, slowly shaking my head. “I can't believe it. Come out into the field
with me. Right now. Let’s go.”

Now was her turn to
look at me like I was crazy. “Are we even allowed?”

I snorted and made
a show of rolling my eyes. “Are you kidding me?” I spread my arms and motioned
toward my chest, implying I was too important to be kept off the football field
no matter the time or day. “That's my dad's name on the front of the building,
you know.” I leaned forward and winked, “I think we're allowed.”

As I walked off
down a long corridor, she followed but still muttered something about me being
a cocky asshole. I just shrugged. Even after she insulted me more than once, I
was taking her somewhere and spending time alone with her—and she was allowing
it. In my book that meant there was something wrong with both of us. She wasn’t
refusing to spend time with some “cocky asshole,” and I still wanted to see her
even after being insulted.

 
There was a pull between the two of us that
seemed undeniably strong.

“Did your dad
really have this stadium built just so you could play?” She asked skeptically
as we continued down the corridor. I could tell in the tone of her voice is
that the idea of such a thing seemed impossible to her.

“My dad always
tried to do what was best for me.”

“And he figured
giving you a brand-new stadium was best?" There was a bite to her
question. To some extent I couldn’t blame her, I knew it sounded ridiculous.

I slowed down and
turned to look at her, confused and perhaps even a bit offended. “My dad loves
me,” I responded defensively as I looked away.

“Well, my mom
loves
me
, she just shows it in other
ways I guess. I didn’t mean to imply your father didn’t love you.”

I felt like I was
on slippery ground. It was far too easy for us to get into a discussion that
was too sensitive. It could easily lead to an argument and who knew what sorts
of insults the two of us would end up hurling at each other. And if it didn’t
end up that way, one or both of us would be in a vulnerable position. That
didn’t seem any more appealing than the first option. I took a deep breath,
keeping my eyes fixed on the ceiling. In many ways I didn’t like talking about
my family. The way I saw it, people were always ready to judge or take
advantage of wealth. As nice as it was to have money, it always felt like some
elephant in the room. It was time to change the subject.

“How does your
mother show it?”

Ivy stayed quiet.
She took a deep breath and a step forward, shaking her head slowly. “In so many
ways,” she replied sadly. “I’m just so worried about her.”

I instantly regretted
asking. I mentally kicked myself for not thinking it through carefully. She had
already told me her mother was sick. Not knowing what to do, I reached out and
took her hand. She turned to look at me in surprise. I was partially expecting
her to push me away and walk off, but instead she gave my hand a tiny squeeze.

Now was the moment
to take her out onto the field and hopefully clear her mind of any pain she
might feel about her mom. Holding her hand, I led her down the rest of the
corridor and down some stairs until we finally walked out of the tunnel and
onto the field.

I slowed to a
stop, giving her time to look up at the open top and marvel at how blue the
October sky was. We stood at the top center of the stadium right near the
goalpost for a couple more minutes before I tugged on her and we continued
around the perimeter of the field.

“Now that you’ve
seen the goalpost,” I said nodding toward it, I pointed at one of the lines.
“Can you guess what that is?”

“Uh, it’s–”

“The 10-yard line.
Each yard line is labeled; you see?”

“What, are you
going to quiz me later or something?” She asked jokingly.

“Well, maybe it’s
your turn to know what pop quizzes are like,” I teased.

“Hey! I’ve never
given you a pop quiz!” She objected, playfully clutching her chest and making
an insulted face.

“You’ve tutored me
plenty, though, so I think it’s time you listen to your much-needed football
tutor,” I winked, pulling her in a bit closer by tugging on her hand. I
couldn’t even remember the last time I just held a girl's hand. It made me feel
like I was in junior high again, but there was something about it with her that
I loved. There was a simplicity to it that I hadn’t felt before. With all the
other girls in college it was about getting them inside my bed. With Ivy it was
about something else.

She knocked me
with her elbow, “Yeah? What are you going to teach me?”

I turned to look
at her with a devious smirk and she burst into laughter. I was going to make a
joke dripping with sexual insinuation about how I had
plenty
to teach her as long as she was
eager
to learn, but I bit my tongue and held back. That could wait
for later. For now, I wanted to hold onto the handholding lightness of what
felt like an impromptu date. We wandered over to the seats behind the goalpost
opposite from where we had entered. Ivy sat down easily, shaking her head in
disbelief.

“I wonder what
it’s like to have a stadium built for you. There’s something my mother always
says,” she told me abruptly, still looking up at the October sky. “She’s always
told me flowers have to grow through dirt.” Ivy took a pause and lowered her
gaze to the goalpost in the distance. “I used to think that was some sort of
magical phrase I could hold on to until flowers sprouted in my life, but now…” Her
voice trailed off just as she lowered her gaze to the grass right in front of
where we sat.

“Now?”

Ivy looked back up
at the sky. “Now I think she told me that just to stave off some childish bout of
whining,” Ivy joked. It was clear in her eyes though. There was a much deeper
reason she didn’t believe in that saying anymore.

I watched her lips
the entire time as she spoke. I noticed they trembled a bit when she spoke her
last sentence, but I didn’t want to push her. I admired the way she held her
head high as she spoke of her mom even though I could see how sad it made her.
I scooted closer and she leaned in to me, only slightly. I placed my hand on
her thigh to comfort her, wondering if she would appreciate it or if she’d just
yell at me again, but she didn’t. She only continued to look up at the sky and
scooted in a little more.

I rubbed her leg
slightly, ensuring her that I was there. I wanted her to know everything would
be okay. Her breathing hitched a little as she continued to stare into
oblivion. My eyes traced over her for a moment.

And in that very
second my life changed.

It all hit me
harder than any linebacker ever could. It was like the weight of the world
slammed into me.

In that moment I
truly cared about her more than I cared about myself. I wanted to take all the
pain she felt and give it to myself; just so she could be happier.

I reached over to
turn her head toward me. She looked into my eyes and without a word I leaned in
to kiss her.

It was a soft,
tender kiss. I wanted her to know exactly how I felt. It was something we both
had been longing for, but were too caught up in some high-stakes emotional game
to admit our true feelings.

"You're
driving me crazy, Ivy," I admitted.

I had never been
more honest in my entire life.