Grid Iron Bad Boy: A Football Romance (15 page)

C
ameron chucks
our bags in the backseat and slams the door shut. Flinging the driver’s side door open, he thumps down into his seat and makes the car shake as he yanks his door closed with an angry thunk.

I barely have time to process any of this. It’s all whirling around me so fast, I feel like Dorothy caught up in a cyclone, not really sure where this house is gonna land. One second I was enjoying another breakfast straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting with Cameron’s family, the next we’re peeling out of the driveway like we left three bodies behind in a gruesome crime scene. We may not have committed any felonies, but shots were most definitely fired back there.

Cameron screeches to a halt at the red light and my head thuds off the back of the seat as the car abruptly stops. I look over at him. The anger radiating off of him is as clear as the LED stoplight hanging over our heads. His jaw is set and his fingers are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel.

“Hey, are you all right?” I try to break through the dark storm clouds engulfing him

“I will be,” he answers through clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry that it all had to end that way. I liked meeting your family. It’s too bad your father was being such a dick.”

“He has always been that way. Military first. Above everyone and everything.” he answers. I can see some of his rage sliding away and the sadness that he carries hiding underneath reveals itself on his face.

“I’m sorry,” the words feel inadequate. Empty. But I feel them with all my heart. I hate seeing him so upset. I hate that his father has never made him feel important. Somehow, “sorry” doesn’t feel like enough, but nothing else comes to mind.

Cameron shrugs, “I’m used to it. He’s never gonna change. Like I said, the only time he’s ever pretended to give a rat’s ass about my life is when I joined the military.” His face softens and the sorrow clouds his blue eyes. “But anyway, I’m not gonna sit here and sing “Cat’s In the Cradle” to you. It is what it is.” He looks over at me and my heart breaks for the little boy who was never enough for his dad. For the guy who put so much time and effort trying to prove he was worthwhile, who had to fake it until he made it, learning to have confidence in his dreams when no one else did.

“Besides,” he continues, “I don’t need him at my games. I’ve gotten this far without him. I think it’s safe to say I’m good. As long as I have you there cheering me on, I don’t need anyone else.” A smile finally touches his lips, but my gut wrenches and I can’t return it.

“I, uh, I won’t be at the next one though, remember?” I whisper.

“What? Come on,” he looks at me out of the side of his eye, glancing at my face for the punchline. “You have to go. You’re my good luck charm. I’ve got scouts coming out. I need to see you there cheering me on,” he looks over at me fully now.

“I can’t,” I confess to my hands, “it’s my niece's baptism. I can’t go to the next one.”

“Skip it.”

“Cameron, I can’t miss Honor’s baptism. I’m her godmother. There’s just… there’s no way, I’m sorry,” my voice hurts my throat as I try not to let my emotions flood through me. I don’t want to rub salt in Cameron’s open wounds, but I can’t be a no-show at my goddaughter’s baptism either.

“Chelsea, I really need you there.” His voice is like a thick fog, “I need to look up in the stands and see someone who believes in me. I need to see someone who loves me. Someone I love,” my heart flutters like a hummingbird as he says the words. “Please go.” His voice cracks as the emotional toll of the day wears on him.

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything. You know I love you,” I confess, finally saying the words that my heart has known since I met him. “You know that. I would be there if I could, but I can’t cancel on the baptism,” I search his face for understanding.

“Fine.” His jaw clamps shut again and I watch him swallow his vulnerability. The wall is back up and this time I’m standing on the outside of it.

We drive down my street in silence. The only noise I hear when he pulls into my driveway is the noise of the tires on the asphalt. Cameron makes no effort to help me grab my bag. He is a statue, staring at the wheel in his hands as I gather my things.

“Did you want to come in and talk about this?” I offer.

“No.” His face barely moves as he utters the word.

“Are you mad at me?”

His silence is louder than any yelling and radiates further than any anger.

“Cameron?”

He slumps forward a little as he lets out a long breath. “No, I’m not mad at you. I just need to be alone for a bit.” He doesn’t look at me, his eyes unblinking and focused straight ahead.

“OK,” I grab my bags and close the door.

Cameron doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t wave. He just reverses out of my driveway and pulls away leaving me standing here. As alone in this moment as he’s probably felt his entire life. Tears well up in my eyes and spill over onto my cheeks. Not because I’m sad for me, but because as he pulled out of the driveway, I saw something that broke my heart.

I saw Cameron cry.

T
he game is tied
and it’s been brutal. My eyes glaze over the curve of the roaring stadium. The seats are brimming with life in all shapes and sizes watching us. Without meaning to, I look over the empty seats I got Chelsea season tickets to. My heart sinks down with my spirits. The game is almost over and she never made it.

Snap out of it! I give my head a shake and bring my focus back to the only thing that matters right now: the game.

I hunch over and place my hands between Driscoll’s legs like I’m waiting to catch a baby being born, “32! Hut! Hut! Hut!” I yell.

My center snaps me the ball back and I slice it through the air, down the field to my open wide receiver.

“No! Fuck, no!” I scream as I watch the defensive back from the Idaho State Bengals pop up in front of him and pluck the ball from the air. If that ball was my baby, that fucker just kidnapped it.

Shit, the last thing we need is a pick-six. This interception could kill us out here. My entire team is at the other end of the field. It’s up to me to stop this guy. There’s no fucking way I’m gonna let him get to the end zone.

My muscles clench as I run, my hands flat and sliding through the air as I give everything I have to closing the distance between me and the asshole holding my ball.

I’m inches away from him. Giving one last surge, I dive at him, determined to get back what’s mine. My hands paw at the air around him frantically and the ground seems to come up to meet me as I thud to the field like a sack of shit.

“Fuck you!” The defensive back yells as I watch him cut down the center of the field without resistance, spiking the ball in a touchdown.

“Goddamn it!” Rage burns through my veins like acid as I get my feet under me and jog off the field. I rip my helmet from my head and slam it to the ground giving it a kick with my cleat. I fucking wish that helmet was his head. “Fuck!” I yell, but the answer won’t dissipate. It spreads through me, staining my soul.

“Armstrong! Get your ass over here!” Coach Silver points to the space reserved for me beside him.

I follow the coach’s direction and join him next to the players’ bench.

“Sorry Coach,” I start, but close my mouth abruptly when he holds up his hand at me.

“Listen, you don’t have time for ‘sorry’, you got it?” I nod and listen. “You don’t have time to say it and you don’t have time to wallow in it. Hear me? You made one bad play. It fucking happens, Armstrong, that doesn’t mean it’s all over. Look,” he points over my shoulder at the countdown timer on the board. I follow his finger to the huge numbers left on the clock.

“You’ve got one minute left to get this back on track,” he continues and I look back at him, “and you and I both know that’s a fucking lifetime on this field. This game is still yours if you want it. Do you want it?”

“Yes, Sir!” I yell.

“Good! Then prove it. You’ve led this team all season and you’ve done it exceptionally well. You’ve got scouts sitting in these stands just waiting for a reason to sign you, so give it to them. Give it to yourself and go get what’s yours. You hear me?”

“Yes, Coach!” I swell up with pride and throw my shoulders back. Silver is right, this is still my game. I run over to where I abandoned my helmet and scoop it off the ground. As I stand up with it in my hand, my eye is snagged by the hot pink dress. Then by the gorgeous face.

Chelsea.

She’s at her seat and hopping like a rabbit on speed, screaming to me. She made it.

Not only her. I look over at the rest of them. Standing next to her is Mack and his wife Lauren, along with their son Chris and the baby too. All of them are wearing their Sunday finest, the guys still dressed in suits and ties and the women in dresses. Little Honor is decked out in a frilly white gown and white bonnet. I stand taller, a smile I can’t control takes over my face and I hold my hand to my heart.

“I love you,” I know she can’t hear me say it with her ears, but I feel like she can hear me with her heart.

This is my game. This is my moment. With the woman I love watching me, I know no one can take this from me. I jog to the field and the guys huddle around me.

“This is it boys. I straight up fucked that last play, so we’re getting it back. I need you to open up the field and go deep. We’re going for a Hail Mary here. Got it?” I give my orders.

“Break” they respond in unison and we line up, taking our places at the line. I hunch behind Driscoll again and call it out. On the final “hut” he snaps the ball back like a shot from a gun. I stand up and watch my guys, desperately looking for an opening. Everyone is covered. The seconds that I stand here feel like hours as I seek my opportunity.

A flash of blue catches the corner of my eye and I instinctively turn left as the inside linebacker’s fingers graze me and he eats dirt. I take two steps back and zero in like a laser on my wide receiver. He’s open.

I launch the ball down the field like a cannon. The seconds that felt like hours are now days as I hold my breath and watch the pigskin slice through the sky. My receiver jumps up at the same time as their defensive back, but my guy outreaches him and tucks it under his arm as he scrambles to the end zone.

Touchdown! Fuck yes!

One more point and we’re in overtime. We’ll take them there. I look over at my coach waving me in to the sideline. I jog over and he takes off his ball cap to hide his words from the other team.

“I fucking told you, didn’t I? You got this!”

“Thanks, Coach,” I smile. “The extra point will get us into overtime,” I nod.

“No.”

“What?”

“No fucking overtime. Go for the two-point conversion,” he demands.

I look at him in disbelief. It’s a bold move. If it doesn’t work, we’re done. My eyes slide up to Chelsea and she’s on her feet cheering for me.

It’ll work.

“You got it, Coach,” I nod and run back to my guys. We group together again and I keep my voice steady and low as I give them our play. “Driscoll, you need to get your fat ass up the field five yards ‘cause I’m coming in behind. You got it?” He nods and we break, lining back up for our last play.

Driscoll snaps the ball one last time and barrels forward. If I’m the field general, then he’s my tank. He destroys the last five yards and I jump up in the air and spike the ball into the ground to claim our winning points.

“We did it! Fuck yes!” I yell and Driscoll and I smash together in a chest bump.

Up in the stands, Chelsea and her family are cheering. She made it. I realize that, as the pandemonium swirls around me, her being here means more to me than this win.

“
Y
ou know
, you’re amazing,” Cameron sits down beside me on his sofa and hands a glass of champagne to me.

“I’ll cheers to that,” I joke and hold up my glass. He gently clinks his glass up against mine and we both take a sip. He puts his down on the coffee table and grabs my foot, pulling it into his lap. He massages small circles along my big toe and I smile.

“You’re pretty incredible yourself,” I watch as he swells with pride.

There’s something so different about him now. From the first time I saw him, I’ve always found him heart-flutteringly, panty-wetting sexy. A simple smile would make my temperature rise. Now, there’s another layer added on to his sex symbol status. The quiet confidence of a man in love. Sure, he still gives me his fair share of smirky bravado and swagger, but now it’s also mixed in with the moments where I catch him just watching me, with a genuine smile on his face.

“I wanted to apologize to you, Chelsea,” Cameron’s voice drops.

“Don’t worry about it, I understand that you were upset with your father,” I try to wave it off. However, he’s shaking his head at me. I know he’s not letting himself off the hook as easily as I would.

“That’s no excuse. I was upset, but that will never make it OK to talk to you like I did. It was stupid and I was wrong. I hope you can forgive me,” he looks up at me.

“Of course I do,” I mumur. Yep, to say Cameron has grown up a bit since we’ve been together is definitely an understatement.

“I know I’ve already told you this, like a hundred times, but when I saw you and your family at the end of the game, I just knew I had it in the bag. I know you don’t believe me, but I swear you’re my good luck charm, on and off the field. I’ve never felt luckier in my whole damned life than I do with you by my side.”

My breathing quickens along with my racing pulse. “Well, maybe I’ll have to make sure you feel even luckier tonight,” I purr, placing my champagne on the table. I slowly walk my fingers up his arm and then slide my thumb down his gruff jawline, just below his lips.

Instead of rewarding me with the kiss I’m clearly begging for, Cameron stands up. “Oh I will, because tonight, I’m going to worship every inch of your body. I’m going to treat you right,” he holds out his hand to me and when I let him help me to my feet he tenderly presses his lips on mine.

I tilt my head up to meet his kiss. My lips greedy for more, my eyelids flutter closed and our tongues dance together. I feel Cameron slide his hands down my lower back and over my ass, cupping my cheeks. Squeezing them tightly in his hands like he’s staking his claim.

When he pulls away from me, my lips feel lonely. Like the few inches of space between our bodies is miles, my heart aches from the distance.

“Come on, I’ve got plans for you,” he turns and grabs my hand, leading me down the hall to his bedroom.

I don’t feel the floor beneath my feet as I follow. My eyes wander down over his sculpted shoulders to the v of his waist. I let my gaze slide down to his firm ass. An ass I want to sink my fingernails into while he pins me to his bed with his hips.

We pass through his bedroom door and Cameron turns around, picks me up and plops me down onto his bed. I let out a girlish squeal and clap my hands over my mouth to stifle my giggles. He hops up onto the bed with me and the mattress sways under his weight.

Cameron hovers over me, quickly taking my earlobe in his warm mouth, letting his tongue tease me as his hand unzips the side of my dress. Once it’s undone to my hip, I wiggle out of it and kick it to the bottom of the bed. Cameron drags his tongue down to my breast and squeezes his hand over my bra possessively.

He pulls my breast from the cup and works his tongue over my nipple as he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. The frilly, lavender lingerie is tossed off the bed, leaving me in nothing but my panties.

“No fair,” I pretend to pout. “I’m almost naked and you’ve still got all your clothes on.”

Cameron smiles up at me, his eyes twinkling mischievously, “Well, I’ll just have to take care of that then, won’t I?”

Leaning back, he peels his shirt off. My eyes struggle to find a focus, trying to soak in all of his perfectly toned muscles at once. I look at the tattoos engulfing his arm; there seem to be a million of them. A hundred for sure. I love how, after we have sex, I lazily run my fingers over them and he tells me the meaning behind one of them. Each time, he let’s me pick one tattoo and gives me the backstory. A little more insight into the man that stole my heart.

“What about your pants?” I stick out my bottom lip dramatically. “Just the shirt isn’t fair,” I protest.

“Nuh-uh,” he wiggles his finger at me. “I told you that tonight, I’m going to treat you like the queen you are. The pants come off later,” he leans back over me and slides down his bed until his face is at my feet.

He licks my ankle and gives it a little nibble, making me giggle and squirm. I can’t help if I’m ticklish! The sensation quickly fades as he kisses, nibbles and drags his tongue in a long trail from my foot to the inside of my thigh.

Cameron’s hot breath billows over my pussy. It takes all of my restraint to stop myself from wrapping my legs around his head. I think he’s reading my mind because his fingers quickly tug my panties off of me.

He slowly parts my lips with his finger and looks up at me, “You’re beautiful,” he murmurs. Before I can respond, his lips meet my pussy and his tongue dives inside me.

“Oh, fuck!”

Cameron teases my clit and then plunges his tongue into my center. His tongue slowly swirls around my sensitive nub driving me wild.

“Oh, God, Cameron. I want you. I need to feel you inside me right now.” I beg. My voice is dripping with desperation.

He stops and looks up at me, “Are you sure?”

“Now,” I demand, my throat raw with desire.

He slides off the bed and unbuttons his pants, quickly dropping them to the floor. Cameron opens his nightstand drawer to reach for a condom.

“No, I want to feel you inside me. You. Not a condom,” I insist. He knows that I can’t get pregnant and I know that I love this man. I have no doubt about his loyalty to me anymore. He’s mine and I’m his. I want to feel his skin against mine. The warmth of his cock as he fucks me. I want to feel his seed fill me up.

Cameron joins me back on the bed, “I fucking love you, Chelsea,” he whispers in my ear as he slides between my legs.

“I love you too,” I confess. I slide my hips under him to meet his. I feel the head of his cock pressing at my entrance and it’s making me crazy.  “Fuck me, Cameron. I need to feel you,” I plead.

He holds the base of his cock with one hand and pushes into me. I feel tight around him as he stretches out my pussy. I fit him like I was made for him. He slides in me, my desire making me wet enough to take every inch of his fat cock.

“Oh God, you feel so fucking good,” he growls, shoving his shaft deeper inside me.

I can’t agree with him, not because I don’t, but because I can’t form words right now. I can barely think straight. My body is just flooded with sensations, running on pure instinct and desire.

I sink into the bed under Cameron’s weight as he slides his cock into me over and over. I run my nails down his back and wrap my legs around his thighs, reveling in how close we are. Emotionally, physically, spiritually. We are one. He is mine and I am his.

“Oh Cameron!” My orgasm crashes over me unexpectedly. I’ve never cum from sex only before, but my body is surging with bliss as our bodies tangle up in each other and Cameron fills me with his cock.

I tighten around him, every muscle in my body tensing as the pleasure runs through me. Cameron tastes my lips, his mouth savoring mine in a kiss that brings my ecstasy to new heights. I feel a shiver run down his spine and Cameron drops his head against my shoulder as he fucks me hard, pumping into me fast and deep.

“Oh, fuck!” He grunts in my ear as his orgasm washes over him. His warm cum fills my pussy and the sensation pushes me back over the edge. Another ripple of pleasure travels through me as Cameron fucks me.

Neither of us move, we just lie together, him still inside me. Our sweat mixing on our bodies and our heartbeats communicating in racing beats. I manage to open my eyes and smile up at him. He’s so sexy.

Cameron kisses the tip of my nose, “I love you,” he murmurs and rolls over beside me.

I snuggle up next to him, covered in the glow of happiness. “I love you too,” I lay my head on his chest.

For a moment the only noise in the room is our breathing. I trail my finger down his arm, looking at the art etched into his skin. Looking for my next tattoo to learn about. My next bedtime story.

I hope I’ll learn what every single tattoo on his body means and then we’ll start from the beginning again. Over and over again through our entire lives, until his tattoos become permanently inked into my brain. Until they become my story. Our story. Together.