Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance (22 page)

“Don't make me have to drag your new bubble butt ass out on the field,” jokes Dani, mistaking my silence as resistance. "And if you say you don't have any clothes to wear, I will stuff you in one of those nasty ass PE uniforms Coach Roberts lends out to the kids who forget to bring theirs from home. Don't worry about the t-shirt. You can use a team one, but you’d better have some exercise clothes."

I chuckle and reply, “I'll drag it out there myself, thank you very much. And I've got something to wear. I think.”

“
G
awd
. . .
damn!
Who is that?” exclaims Russ Bowden, pushing his rust colored hair out of his eyes and doing a double take. "Did we get a new transfer student from the Playboy Mansion or something?"

I was sitting in the bleachers texting on my cell while my friends and teammates drooled over Silver Lake's cheerleading squad practice. It was a customary tradition for the guys to come sit around whenever there were new tryouts and bet money on which cheerleader would be having sex with them before the season was out.

Usually, I'd partake in the betting right along with them. In my junior year, I'd gotten a cool two hundred dollars from my haul, but I'm just not in the mood today. I'd gotten into a nasty argument with my drunk of a father before I left home, and I was ready to smash faces . . . not pussy. Besides, I'm a senior now. Chasing freshman and sophomore ass is supposed to be beneath me, and I know all the upper-class girls. At least I think I do.

“That's Whitney Nelson,” Cory, who is sitting to my right, says. Cory's the biggest player on the team, and I don't mean size-wise. The man has a list of conquests that would make Leo DiCaprio jealous, although personally, I thought Cory's focus on quantity took off points due to lack of quality. But to give the man credit, he has a great eye for the female figure.

Russ makes a face, his eyes going wide as saucers. “
That's
Whitney Nelson? Pancake Nelson? Bullshit.”

Cory nods. “Yup.”

“No fucking way!”

“Crazy, ain't it? She's a knockout now,” Cory added.

Russ snorts, shaking his head. “Knockout is an understatement. That bitch stacked.”

I look up from texting on my cell to see what all the fuss is about. My heart skips a beat and my mouth goes dry when I see her. I remind myself not to drop my fucking phone. I don't have the money to replace it if I crack the screen.

Oh my fucking God.

A girl with long, wavy auburn hair, a heart-shaped face and a voluptuous body is doing tryout exercises with the cheerleading squad. Her whole body moves with a sensuality that I've yet to see. I'm instantly turned on by the sight. Seriously, she's going to make me pop wood in front of all my friends. It's crazy. I've seen a lot of hot girls, but this one takes the crown.

To say she’s beautiful is like saying the sky is blue. You don't argue that shit. You just accept it.

What I can't understand, though, is why I haven't ever seen her before? The other guys are all talking like they know who this girl is, but I'm racking my brains, and I'm drawing a blank.

“Ten bucks says I'll have her sucking my dick by the end of tonight,” boasts Cory.

Russ lets out a rowdy laugh. “Ten bucks? Fuck, dude, a hundred says she'll be riding me after practice!” Russ does a little dance in his seat, moving his arms all around like he's riding a pony. “Gangnam Style!”

All my teammates howl with laughter, but I'm not amused, and a dark, violent anger surges through my chest, surprising me.

“Shut the fuck up!” I seethe, barely holding back from it becoming a bellow. The words leave my lips before I can stop them. I'm not sure what's gotten into me. I never cared before who they laid claim to. It's all just a game, anyway. But right now, I'm about three seconds from taking the football team's starting tailback and safety and seeing if I can throw them out of the stands off the back side. “None of you dickwads are getting shit!”

My teammates are momentarily stunned into silence by the venom in my voice. They're used to me being aggressive on the field, but never angry. In fact, some of them have never seen me angry, to all of our benefit. I prefer to get my high school diploma through school and not a jailhouse correspondence course.

“Shit, Troy, what crawled up your hairy ass and died?” Cory gets the courage to ask a second later. "Not into K-pop or somethin'?"

“Nothin,” I say, calmer now. “Just that I know none of you have a chance with her is all. Girl like that, she ain't gonna be going home with any of you jackoffs.”

Cory snorts. “Says who?”

“Says me,” I snarl, causing Cory to draw back as if he fears I'm going to punch him in the face. Honestly, I don't know why I'm acting this way. I don't own this chick, don't even know her. And Cory's right. The guys weren't saying anything different from what I'd seen the past four years on the first day of school, and again in April when the track team did the same act.

Russ eyes me suspiciously. He's always been one of the smarter guys on the team, even if he's got a strange sense of humor. He usually makes me laugh, unless he's fucked off on deep coverage again and gotten beaten deep. “You want her, don't you?”

“No,” I reply nonchalantly. "Just sayin', you two ain't got no chance. I can see it in her face. She's no easy lay."

“Fucking liar. You want her bad, man. Admit it.”

“So what if I do?” I growl menacingly. “What are you going to do about it?”

Russ holds my gaze for a moment and then looks away. “Nothing,” he mutters. "You get all the girls anyway. All I get are the fucking skanks.”

That's what I thought.

I nod my head. “You're right. But I'm also the one who carries this fucking team.” As Silver Lake's prized quarterback on offense and inside linebacker on defense, I’m literally the lynchpin of the best chance Silver Lake has had to go to the state championships since Jimmy Carter was President. I’m one of the most popular kids in the school and usually get my way with everything. Girls, grades, preferential treatment by teachers— you name it, I get it.

It goes without saying that I'm an egotistical, conceited bastard. But I'm that way because I earned it, every fucking bit of it.

But while I can't ask for more of the sweet perks I get at school, it's a total 180 when it comes to my living situation at home. The moment I step off school grounds, I go back into the real world. I'm no longer Troy Wood, Silver Lake High's most prized athlete and biggest campus celebrity.

I'm just some ungrateful shit that should be happy that my dad chose to bang a random chick when he was eighteen and not use a condom. And according to my drunken dad, I wouldn't be shit without him. I owed him for everything—giving me life and for being a star ball player, though he'd done nothing to help me hone my skills. Shit, I owed him just for breathing. In fact, I owed him so much that I had to work an after-school job at a shitty pizza parlor just to help support his sorry ass drinking habit. So I take those easy grades from the teachers, mainly because after practicing until seven four nights a week, I spend another three to four hours slicing vegetables, sausage, and stirring five gallon pots of tomato sauce just to put food in my stomach.

I don't know what he's going to do when I go off to college
, I think to myself.
Probably become a bum under the bridge. And it'll be all
my
fucking fault.

I have big plans for myself after I graduate high school, none of which involve my drunkard father. First, I hope to go to college on a scholarship, because I certainly don't want to be chained to a student loan debt, and then I want to be drafted by the NFL, starting off with a multimillion-dollar contract.

I figure once I get on the college team and start showing off my exceptional abilities, the talent scouts will go crazy and start the bidding wars. First round draft pick, working a couple of endorsement contracts coming right out of school, and I'll be on easy street riding out my rookie contract on that bullshit scaled system the NFL is putting in place. When I hit free agency though, that's when it all goes bananas. Naturally, I'll settle with the highest bidder and make my way to the Hall of Fame and retire with a big mansion, a trophy wife and a quad of kids, set for life.

Ah, the easy life. I just have to get there first.

And I
will
get there. I have total confidence in my ability to do so.

As cocksure as I am, I always have to give myself an internal pep talk to keep my confidence level up. You have to when you're the brightest star on an otherwise shit team and your father tells you you're a worthless piece of shit. Coach tells us a positive mental mindset is essential, and I believe it. Coach has a lot of good sayings like that.

One thing is for sure. I know I'm not going to reach my goals if I get involved in a relationship with a needy girlfriend. That's one promise I've made to myself. No girlfriends. No relationship. No drama. No bullshit.

If I want to make it to the NFL, my motto has gotta be fuck 'em and leave ‘em. It's harsh, but I have to protect myself. I don't want to become too attached. And I know what could happen if I fuck up by falling in love and getting a chick pregnant. It already happened to one of my best friends who now had to put his entire life on hold because he'd knocked up a chick he had feelings for. He was 'the guy' before I showed up on varsity, and we formed the core of a good one-two threat before he got the bitch pregnant. He quit the team, saying he wanted to man up, and that was when the shit hit the fan. He's been forced to work two shitty jobs to support the baby, and his grades fell because of it. With no football and no grades, he couldn't qualify for college and was stuck in those same two jobs, a miserable bastard. The worst part of it all? His lady love cheated on him shortly after giving birth. Hell, she asked if I wanted a piece of her ass when I stopped by once to see how my buddy and the baby were doing.

I vow that I'm not going to be that sucker.

The cheerleading squad takes a rest and I watch as Whitney pauses to dig the tights she's wearing out of the crack of her ass. She glances around as if worried someone is watching, and our eyes meet. She stares at me, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, and I give her my most charming smile. Her lips part, as if in surprise, and then she looks away. Bending over, she grabs a water bottle before realizing she's giving us a pretty good view of what she was just digging out, and I can't help it. Mr. Disco Stick is ready to say hel-fucking-lo, and I'm not all that disinclined to stop him.

I can't keep the grin off my face, but I'm worried about how much I want to meet this girl. Usually, I let them come to me, yet I want to go to her. It's like she's a magnet and I'm a big hunk of metal. I mean, I'm a big hunk of something, and it can get hard as steel, but that doesn't mean I'm made of it.

“You are totally checking her out for yourself,” Russ accuses, catching the exchange. "Or is that bulge in your pants because of Cory's Gangnam style dance?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Don't play stupid. You're not in AP English, but you aren't an idiot either.”

I think desperately and come up with the first idea that pops into my head besides Whitney's ass. “I was just thinking about the new plays I want to try at practice tomorrow. In case you didn't notice, we've got Blueridge on Friday, and their fullback isn't a pussy like you.”

“Right.”

“I was.” I run my gaze over my gathered teammates. “And I want you all to be ready to try them out. No questions asked. I think it will help us when we play against Blueridge. I’m not starting my senior year with a loss.”

“And have you run these plays by Coach Jackson?” asks Cory. “Usually he wants to look them over and approve them before trying them out."

I shake my head. “Nope. But I'm sure he won't mind. He knows all my strategies are good.”

“Cocky bastard,” Cory grumbles.

“He can afford to be cocky when he practically has a scholarship to any school he wants,” says Russ enviously. “Ain't that right, Troy? So which are you going with? Notre Dame? Stanford? Nah, you ain't got the grades for Stanford, but I bet the SEC would hook you up really good—football, easy grades, and Southern girls. Fuck, you wanna stay out here West Side, just go down to Clement, right?”

“I don't have one yet,” I say. "You all know that."

Russ drops his jaw in mock astonishment, giving me a melodramatic gasp. “You mean to tell me the King of Campus doesn't have a scholarship?”

“Cut it out, jackass, before I deck you. I said I don't have one
yet
, not that I'll never get one. School has only just started back.” Russ is showing his jealousy by bringing up my scholarship, but I'm not going to sweat it. I know that most times, athletes are awarded scholarships in their senior year. Russ needs to stop talking shit and worry about himself. He'd be lucky to get one to a D-II school in North Dakota, let alone a major conference school like I'm in line for.

“What school you hoping for most?” Cory asks curiously.

“I dunno. Maybe State,” I say with a shrug. State has one of the best football programs in the Northwest, and best of all, they get on TV a lot so I'd get a good chance to be noticed by pro scouts, so it’s a natural choice. But honestly, I don't think it matters where I wind up.

“Wherever he goes, they’d better have a field that can contain his ego,” says Russ. "Goddamn Rose Bowl isn't big enough for it from what I've seen."

“Shit, they’d better have a cup size that can contain my dick,” I joke. "Do they make cups in foot-long size? I play soft, not hard like Cory does with his two-incher."

The guys erupt with laughter around me, but I can only keep cutting glances at Whitney.

C
rap
, this is hard.

I sigh and wipe the sweat off my brow and readjust my cheerleading uniform, grateful for the momentary break in exercises so I can catch my breath. Dani has had me do almost every cheer and dance routine known to man for tryouts so far, and I am aching. She even had me do splits. It wouldn't have been so bad if my practice uniform weren’t extremely uncomfortable. Seriously, my tights are riding my ass crack hard, and every now and then, I have to pull it out and hope no one catches me doing it. What sort of crazy person does yoga in these things anyway? I packed them this morning because I wanted to go for a walk, and they are supposed to wick away sweat.

At least the uniform top is pretty, silver and blue. The school's colors, which are a lot better than some of the other schools around the area. And despite it being extremely tight, I think I look good in it. It compliments my new curves very nicely. The two silver stripes sort of curve out and around my newfound boobs, with the middle dark blue with "Silver Foxes" written across it in script.

The good thing so far is that I've been able to keep up with all the other girls, and Dani has yet to call me out for a single mistake. I've performed most of the cheers flawlessly and am actually having fun. I'd gone three years saying I would never do this sort of thing because it was so cliché, and now I'm finding that, fuck it all, I’m enjoying being exactly what I said I would never be, one of the in-crowd girls.

I pull at my tights again, cursing under my breath, and then look around to make sure no one is watching. My gaze catches the eyes of Troy Wood, the most popular jock and athlete on campus. He's seated on the bleachers with a group of other jocks who have been staring and hooting like monkeys for the past half-hour . . . and he's staring directly at me.

My heart skips a beat. This guy has never looked at me before. Hell, I don't think he even knew I existed. Yet he's looking at me like I'm a side of beef, and it's actually sexy. I've never seen a guy look at me like that before, and certainly not one as hot as Troy.

My cheeks burn under his intense gaze, and I’m lost in a momentary fantasy.

“Hello?” Dani demands. "Earth to Whitney!"

I tear my eyes away from the hot hunk in the stands, doing my best to refocus. “Huh?”

Dani is scowling at me with her hands on her hips. “I asked you if you were ready?”

“Ready for what?”

Dani nods at the other cheerleaders. “To try the Pyramid.”

I'm horrified. “You can't be serious.”

Dani grins and nods. She’s enjoying this a bit too much. I wonder if Coach picked the right girl to be Captain of the squad this year, because Dani's showing a serious sadist streak. “You wanted to be a cheerleader. Now let's see if you have what it takes.”

She motions at the other cheerleaders, and they quickly take formation. First are the thicker girls, those who are on the team so they can be there for the lifts and stunts like this, then the next level, and then the third, rising up high into the air . . .

I stare with trepidation. Was Dani's plan to come back and offer me a spot on the cheerleading team, just to watch me fall and break my neck? “Uh . . .”

“Come on, Whit,” Dani says impatiently. “We don't have all day. The guys start their football games Friday night, and the coach is going to want us to have our routine in order.”

I debate on just walking off and telling her that I'm not fit for this, but I don't want to disappoint my best friend, and all the other girls are staring at me while they hold their positions, waiting for me to act. I understand the physics of it. Even with my new curves, I'm nearly the most petite girl out there, but that doesn't mean I like the idea of being twelve feet in the air on one foot. That is just insane.

“I hope I don't fall,” I mutter, making my way over to the wall of flesh. One of the girls, maybe Janet or maybe Dasha, grumbles under her breath, telling me to hurry the fuck up.

“Oh, you'll be all right.” Dani waves away my worry. “They won't let you fall.”

“I'm sure.”

“Hey, remember, Spirit Fingers!” she exclaims cheerily, quoting one of my favorite movies,
Bring It On,
while wiggling her fingers and doing a high split kick
.
She throws her arms out in a big V before tucking and doing a back round off, earning a few hoots and some applause from the stands. Dani's eating this shit up— she's always been a natural performer.

“Oh, God,” I groan in exasperation. Didn't she get it? This isn't
Bring It On
. This is real life. And I can die a horrible death. Or does she not notice that this pyramid is just a sidewalk's width away from the student parking lot and a lot of very hard, very black asphalt?

I know I'm being a little melodramatic, but I can't help myself. You get that way when your life is in the hands of a bunch of ditzy bitches who never gave you the time of day except that you are friends with one of the alpha girls on campus.

Dani comes over and leans in, her smile disappearing. My friend that is buried inside pokes through. “You can do this, Whit. You know I love you.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn't be putting me through this,” I say under my breath. Nonetheless, I do what she asks anyway. It's only after I get halfway up does my fear evaporate. The girls underneath me are all pros and are making it as easy as it can possibly be. There isn't a single wobble or tremble as I get on the back of the girl on top, ready for the last little bit. I reach the top and carefully climb to my feet. Taking my left foot in my hand, I do a quick gripped K-split, then lower my leg, trembling with excitement.

“I did it!” I cry triumphantly, pumping my fist in the air. "Fuck yeah!"

And then something awful happens. I slip. I start to go over to the left and I throw my arms out, trying something, but instead of regaining my balance or maybe having me tumble forward where Dani's there to act as safety, I feel my weight shift the wrong way, sending me backward and toward the black death of the asphalt. I hear the girls underneath me let out surprised gasps as I tumble. I'm sure I'll hit the ground and break my neck, but the very next second, I land right into strong, powerful arms.

I look up into hard blue eyes and a chiseled face. Troy Wood. He's holding me, cradling me as if I'm a baby.

“Careful there,” he says to me, starting to set me on my feet on the asphalt. How the hell did he get from the stands to down here so fast? Is this an episode of
Heroes
and he has some kind of superpower? His voice is deep and rich and sends a tingle down my spine. “You could've really hurt yourself.”

My cheeks burn with fire, and a little voice in my head tells me that I'm supposed to say something. You know, it's polite to say something when a guy saves your life and then talks to you. I think even Miss Manners wrote about that one time.

“Yeah. I'm clumsy. My bad. Thanks.” It's all I can manage. I sound stupid, and the cheerleaders are all staring at Troy as if he’s a piece of bacon and they're coming off a three-day juice fast, whispering amongst themselves. They don’t even care that I almost suffered a horrible accident.

“He's so hot,” I hear one say, followed by a girly giggle. She composes herself a little and flashes him a thumbs-up and a
fuck me, please
set of eyes, speaking up again. “Nice job, Troy! I think it's my turn on top next time!”

Troy completely ignores them, his eyes burning into my face. It's like it’s just the two of us as his eyes bore into mine, and I feel myself swimming in their blue depths.

Dani is immediately at our side. “Are you okay?” She glances at Troy. “You can put her the rest of the way down now, Superman.”

I look down and see that I actually hadn't been put all the way down, and that Troy still held me an inch or two off the ground, his hands at my waist and his arms barely straining holding me up. I expect him to go off on Dani for ordering him around. After all, he has a reputation of being an asshole who doesn't like to be told what to do by anyone except Coach Jackson, but he respectfully puts me down, then steps back, watching, as if waiting for me to say something.

“I'm okay,” I declare in embarrassment, smoothing my shirt. I have to avoid looking at Troy, and turn instead to look at Dani. He's almost too handsome to take in, and his burning gaze keeps making my heart flip in my chest. Not only that, but he cuts an imposing figure, towering over me, his chiseled biceps on display in the sleeveless undershirt that the football team wears under their shoulder pads and for practices. He has an incredible physique, and I can see why he’s the most prized athlete in the city. Confidence and power radiates from him like a burning star, and he looks like he could hold up the entire pyramid himself across those massive shoulders of his.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Dani says to me. “I thought we were about to have a paraplegic on our hands.”

Well gee, Dani, that wouldn't have happened had you not forced me to take part,
I think, but I say nothing. I know that sometimes Dani's mouth runs away from her head, and that she's just letting loose a bunch of stress and fright. If we'd been alone, she'd probably be crying right now, but she has to be Dani the Alpha Girl, and that means she has to play it off with a wisecrack or a harsh tone. We'll sort it out later.

“Then it's a good thing I came along when I did, huh?” asks Troy. His piercing blue eyes stay glued to my face, and I swear I'm going to melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. "Honestly, though, you girls should move the tryouts deeper into the grass. It's a lot softer than concrete."

“It sure is, but the concrete's more stable,” Dani says before I can reply. “What are you doing over here anyway? Aren't you guys supposed to be getting ready for practice?”

“No. Coach gave us just a tape session today, first day of school and all. In reality, I came over here to ask Whitney a question.” His eyes are still on me, and I’m floored. Me? He actually knows my name? I open my mouth to ask him what it is he wants, but I'm interrupted.

“Really?” Dani says, not letting me get a word in. She's in full-on protective mode now, the Alpha Female squaring off with SLHS's Alpha Male. “And what would that be?”

Dani trips me out. Troy just possibly saved my life and she’s interrogating him like he’s a criminal. It’s the main reason I know that Dani is really my friend. We look out for each other—I tutor her, and she buffers me in the social world. It's been that way for years now.

Troy doesn't seem bothered by Dani's bitchiness though, and he gives her an even look that actually shuts Dani down. “I wanted to know if she'll go out with me.”

I swear, I almost faint right then and there and Dani goes pale in the face. Troy Wood has just asked me out in front of the whole damn cheerleading squad. Is the whole world on drugs or something today, and I just didn't get the memo?

After momentary shock, the cheerleaders go into a frenzy of gossipy chatter, sounding like a flock of crows all cawing at each other. I know what they are thinking. How can Troy want to go out with me over one of them?

Troy stares at me, waiting for an answer, but I’m frozen like a Madame Tussauds wax statue. I can't move or speak. This has to be some sort of dream. Troy Wood wants to go out with
me
? As Dani sometimes says,
wha-fa?

Dani inches closer to me and whispers out of the side of her mouth. “What are you waiting for, fool? Accept, before I say my name is Whitney!”

“Yes!” I cry, my voice coming out in a high-pitched squeal. Coughing like I have something stuck in my throat, I roll my neck and try one more time.

“Yes,” I say again, more level this time. Better, much better. I don't sound like I'm still going through puberty. “I'll go out with you.”

Troy cracks a grin and my heart soars. “How about after you get done with cheerleading tomorrow then? I'll pick you up at your place after I go home, change and grab a shower. We do have practice tomorrow.”

“Sure,” I say, hoping I don't sound too desperate. We quickly exchange phone numbers and I give him my address, my body shaking nearly the whole time. I stare at the little slip of paper for a moment before Dani takes it, folds it in half, and tucks it into the waistband of my tights, only a tiny ear of it sticking out so I can know where it is.

When we're done, Troy grabs my hand and gives it a soft kiss, and I swear I'm not going to wash it for a week. “See you at seven thirty, then, beautiful. Till then, though . . . gotta go.”

With one last grin that melts my heart, he walks back over to his buddies, who are all shaking their heads, and they immediately swarm him like he's a king, asking him questions and pounding him on the back.

I stare at his back as he walks away—even his walk is sexy and full of confident swagger—my mouth agape.
He called me beautiful!

“Oh my God!” Dani exclaims when he's gone. “Troy Wood just asked you out! How do you feel?”

She comes forward and links her arm with mine, leading me away from the asphalt as I still feel like I'm about to pass out face first onto the ground. When the other girls start to approach, Dani waves them off. She leads me over to the fence that borders the little area where we're practicing and lets me lean on the fence for a bit to get my bearings. She lowers her voice again, concerned. "Seriously, Whit, how do you feel? You look like you just got kicked in the gut."

“I can't believe it,” I mutter, shaking my head. For a moment, I wonder if I've made a mistake. Troy Wood is a popular athlete and an all-around manwhore, according to the rumors. The only place he scored more than on the football field was between the sheets, if you believed the rumors. I’m sure a lot of it was inflated by all the guys to make themselves feel better, but still. Why should I go out with him? After all, he’s probably just after one thing, and once he gets it, he'll be gone like the wind. "Did I really just say yes?"

But then I push those thoughts away. It's not like I have to have sex with him, even if that is what he’s after. I figure I can just play hard to get and have a little fun. I may not be experienced at that game, but I know the basic rules. Hell, Dani schooled me on those even more than she'd schooled me on cheerleading, and I did pretty good with that for my first time.