Headstrong Quarterback: A New Adult Sports Romance (2 page)

He didn’t come back, not for a while. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take an interest in his background. I searched the web and pulled up his story. Nearing graduation, in his senior year back in Seattle, his name was all the rage locally. Though, not playing in the bigger leagues he didn’t get the same exposure as others. The agent’s brother lived in town and kept telling him about this quarterback. Next thing you know, he’s snapped up, signed a big contract and was coming to live on the east coast. He took a massive sign-on bonus and was locked in tight. He’d be the Red Hawk’s back-up quarterback. According to the article, they thought he’d become a driving force in the team’s future, a quarterback who would be a household name.

Without him looking back at me, I could study the picture of his face. He had a strong jawline, a masculine face, and short jet black hair. At almost twenty-two, he looked older than his age. He wore an expression of well-worn years; not that of a farm-fresh kid plucked out of school.

After he’d signed, stories of his life spread like wildfire. He was the talk of the town, the talk of sports pages, and had made some appearances on a couple of sports news shows. I was oblivious. Sports wasn’t my world.

I closed my browser, stood up, and watched it flicker. I was lucky my piece of shit laptop still worked. Just barely. It was on its last leg. I desperately needed it to hold out – at least through my final year in college.

I thought about the money Steel threw on the bar top. It would easily pick me up something used, but I couldn’t bring myself to spend it. I hadn’t earned it. I’m not a charity case. It was his money, not mine. He didn’t owe me anything.

Something called to me. I sat back down and pulled up his picture again. I wanted to study his face, get to know each line, and stare into his dark eyes without him staring back. It startled me when I realized I wanted to feel his hot breath on me. I wasn’t ready.

I don’t think about those things, at least haven’t in way too long, but still it crept into my brain. Fine, I admit it, I’m attracted to the guy. Who wouldn’t be? My mind circled wickedly around naked images of him. Foreplay in my head… it’s the closest I’ve been to sex in ages. I can’t…no. I shut the thoughts down and pace. I needed to get out of here. I’m uncomfortable with the new yearnings. They’d been asleep for so long, and I’m not ready for them to wake up.

I pulled on my sneakers and laced them. I needed to go for a run. I had to clear my head. I hated the place my mind was taking me. It was a journey I didn’t want to take yet.

Guys are lying pieces of shit. He’d be the same once I got to know him.
Get out of my head
.

Beads of sweat rolled down my face as I hit my fourth mile. I went faster, harder, trying to push everything out. It’s the only way I know to make the thoughts stop. The stress slowly drained from me with each footstep hitting the ground. One after the other, keep going, drown out any chance of him slipping back in. When I finally stopped, my mind was clear – the way that I like it.

I know I should be working on a paper for school, but I’ve been putting it off. Shit, if I don’t tackle it today, it won’t be done. I’m so ready for this stupid semester to be over. I have a few more weeks and I’ll be done. At least I was busy.

In an odd way, I like staying busy. I didn’t want free time – it left me open to think about life. Life and I weren’t exactly buddies.

I pulled up the outline and notes from class, but I couldn’t lock onto my work. My mind drifted to the football player. I thought about his picture, his shoulders, the way he brought me a slice of pie for no reason at all. He came back to see me. I wanted him to. Conflicted feelings tore at me.

“No. Get back to work,” I grunted. I wasn’t going to let some asshole guy weasel his way into my head.  They’re all assholes, every last one of them. That includes my dead beat dad, my excuse for a step-father, and my douche of a step-brother.

After finding my focus, I was able to dig in and get the essay wrapped. I’d put it off as long as I could. I was relieved it was behind me.

Finished, I tore into a pack of cheese crackers, more ravenous than I realized. There wasn’t much food left in my room. I’d have to hit the market and pick up some staples between classes and work. With only a mini-fridge and one cabinet to store groceries, it’s not like I had a bunch of storage space, let alone a kitchen.

Besides, I ate more than my fair share of pretzels downstairs at the bar. They filled me up and were cheap, so I could save what little money I had for more important things like rent.

Crawling onto my mattress, I pulled a blanket over my head. Martha Stewart would be less than impressed with my cheap sheets, but I got a good deal at the thrift store. They did the job. They wouldn’t win a luxury thread count award, but their used price saved me enough to make them worth my while.

Steel crossed my mind again. I wondered if he’d be back, and why he even chose a dive bar over the nicer sports pub in the first place.

I finally drifted off to sleep, but awoke with a start. Somebody banged against my door. I pretended not to hear, and eventually they wandered down the hall. The second floor of the tavern consisted of five rooms. Rooms for rent, cheap, brought in interesting clientele. The worst part was sharing a bathroom with the others. Most were drunks or strung out on some drug, and looking for a cheap place to sleep. People pissed all over the toilet seat. I took to holding it in as long as I could. I used every other bathroom I could find during the day. The bathroom down the hall was nasty, but it was all I had. One day, I’d afford a nicer place.

I crept into the shower in the wee hours of the morning, when most of the other tenants were out cold. Barricading the door, the best I was able, I quickly washed and headed back to my room. I missed the days of clean bathrooms and a long, hot shower. Regardless, it was better than sharing a roof with my step-brother.
Fuck him – I could deal with crappy bathrooms if I had to
.

The bar was painted barn red, though the white on the sign was worn. Dirt and years of smudge built up on it. The cracked paint peeled, looking to be refreshed. The building sat wedged at a fork in the road. Named after its owner, Phil’s isn’t exactly listed as a place to visit when you come to town.

‘Hops and Scotch’ was bigger and had better food. ‘The First Down’ pulls in the sports crowd. We get the others, the ones who don’t want to be noticed, the ones who are tired of life and want to drown in a cold brew. At least the beer is cold, we do that right.

He walked back in one day. I wasn’t expecting him.

“What’s your name,” he asked and then ordered a longneck.

I sized him up, worried he’d know I looked him up and knew his secret. “Avery.”

He nodded at my answer.

“Yours?” I pretended not to know.

“Steel.”

“Interesting name,” I said.

“My mom gave it to me. She was an amazing woman. She taught me more about strength than anybody ever could.”

“Was?”

“Accident, I lost her two years ago.”

Oh, how sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, it happens.” He wasn’t looking to talk about her. His answers were short and to the point. He wasn’t going to linger.

“Do you miss her?”
What kind of stupid ass question was that? Of course he misses her
. I wondered if I’d miss my mom when she was gone.

“Yeah, a lot.”

I didn’t have anything left to say. I didn’t want to stare. After studying his photos online, I already knew how handsome he was. I finally asked, “Why Phil’s?”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. Good enough. He’d fit right in at ‘Hops and Scotch,’ and they’d love him and put him on a pedestal over at ‘The First Down.’ At ‘Phil’s’ he was nobody. Maybe he liked it that way… just another face blending into the woodwork.

“You want to get something to eat later?”

“What?” It’s not that I couldn’t understand him, the words just didn’t register.

“Food, do you want to go eat later?”

“I don’t think so, but thanks.” I looked away, afraid to look at him too long.

“Have it your way,” he grunted.

**

Steel wasn’t used to being turned down. His good looks had landed him plenty of pussy, but something drew him back to the angry girl behind the bar. He was frustrated, fascinated, and confused. She was a puppy that needed rescuing. Hell, most women fell at his feet. There was something about this chick, like a challenge he couldn’t walk away from
.

**

I’m not sure why I said no. I think I was afraid to be alone with him. I wasn’t afraid he’d take advantage of me. I was afraid of myself. Something stirred inside when he was near me. I wasn’t sure I was ready. Like a spring bloom on a tree, Steel Brickman was slowly bringing me back to life.

He asked me four more times before I finally said yes. What did he see in me? It’s not like he couldn’t get any piece of ass he wanted. There were plenty of prettier girls. I couldn’t figure it out, but something brought him back again and again. Maybe it was a stubborn streak. Who knows?

I finally admitted to knowing who he was, but not to staring at his picture for longer than I should have. The more he showed up, the more I was drawn to him. His dark eyes hungrily owned my body from a safe distance, but he never said what he was thinking. I went from not liking his stare to craving it.

My emotions twisted. I wasn’t used to wanting the attention, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I’d sneak peeks when he wasn’t looking. When he caught me, I blushed a fierce red.

On the night of our pseudo-date, I clocked out and followed him outside. He usually drove a truck. Instead, a bike sat waiting for us. I’d never ridden on one. I’d have to sit close.  Steel mounted the bike like it was a horse, not hesitating for a second. He waited for me to join him, handing me a helmet. Perplexed, I pushed myself to sit behind him. I leaned in, pressing my body to him. His muscles were solid and hard. Dear God, help me. I clung to him with my thighs parted and wrapped against his. I drew a deep breath and held fast.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” I started to say.

“Hold on to me,” was all he said, his tone firm. He was in charge.

I pressed my breasts to his back, grateful his leather jacket offered a barrier. His cologne teased me, filling my nostrils. My loins ached. Steel revved the bike. The vibration between my legs didn’t help matters.

I could barely breathe as we raced down the street. It felt like we were flying, but I knew we weren’t – the speed limit was only thirty-five. On the highway, as our speed crept up, I gripped him tighter. He was a solid wall of muscle.

Steel pulled into an all-night diner. He parked the bike, and waited. It took me a few minutes to let go of him. I finally peeled my hands off of his body, and slipped off of the bike.  I shook from the ride, full of adrenaline. It was both exhilarating and scary.

Steel laughed. “First time?”

I nodded.

“Did you like it? Let’s go eat.”

“I think so.” Following him into the diner, we were seated at a booth. It had one of those mini jukeboxes at the table. I nervously flipped through the songs, not wanting to look into his eyes. I was afraid if I looked at him, I’d make a fool of myself, unable to look away.

“What are you in the mood for?” He glanced at the menu.

“I was thinking pancakes, maybe with fruit.” I didn’t know what to talk about. I was afraid I’d ask all of the wrong questions, and honestly I was afraid of what he’d ask me in return.

“Sounds good.” He folded his menu. When he waitress came, he placed his order. He ordered enough food for an army of ten. I wondered where he put it; he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

Steel was thick and meaty in a good way. He was solid, broad, and strong, standing over six feet tall. Everything about the guy was big and…
that
would probably be large, too. I blushed at the thought. It took me off guard. It was the first time I’d thought about a guy’s cock in ages.

It’s not like I wanted to – well, I just liked looking at the guy, okay? Why was I justifying natural feelings? It was nuts. I’d been shut down for so long, my thoughts surprised me.

As attractive as he was, I still didn’t trust him. I’d talk to him, but I’d never let him in. It wasn’t his fault. My walls were too thick.

“So the Red Hawks,” I finally said, calling out the obvious.

A grin spread across his face. “I wondered how long it would take for you to say something.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t know until somebody recognized you and commented.”

“You don’t watch football?” he asked.

“Not often.” I picked up my napkin and started to wring it between my hands.

He sighed, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “It’s all new to me. I wasn’t supposed to go pro.”

Curiosity got the best of me. “Why did you?”

“When they throw that kind of money at you, it’s hard to turn it down.”

“What were you going to do?”

“Business,” he said with little detail.

“Football for now, I guess.”

He smiled with confidence. “They say I can throw a ball pretty good.”

He obviously was playing ball at his college. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, sure, I love it. Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the opportunity. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave Seattle. I have family there, or what’s left of it.”

I nodded. The word family still had a way of making my stomach sick.

“My sister talked me into taking the contract,” he said.

I was amused. For that much money, I’d think you’d jump at the chance. “You had to be talked into it?”

“Life is more than what you do for a living,” he answered.

I was grateful when the food arrived. I guess the cook didn’t have a ton to do at this time of night, but at least it gave me something to focus on. Too much time looking at an insanely attractive man, and my body and mind start mixing signals. I don’t even know why I agreed to come here – this was a mistake.

The waitress dropped our plates off at the table, my pancakes, and his fifty versions of breakfast meats along with everything else on the menu. He thanked her, then as we both reached for the syrup, our hands brushed against one another. Electricity buzzed through me like a live wire. I pulled my hand back and mumbled. “Sorry.”

“No, you go,” he said. His eyes locked on me, those dark pools of liquid I could get lost in forever. His stare was intense. They spoke loud and clear. He wanted to take me, possess me, and make me his own. I could barely breathe. Another day, another time, I’d probably let him – but those days were over. Nobody touches me anymore.

His heated stare made it hard to swallow. I drizzled syrup over my food, trying to pretend I didn’t notice. Most people look away, break the tension, but he kept looking at me. My cheeks flushed, warm and pink. I cleared my throat, trying to find words. “So, do you like Pennsylvania so far?”

“It’s nice enough. I’m still learning my way around. When the season wraps, I’ll have more free time. The rest of the guys on the team are fine, but I’m more of a loner.”

“I’ve never been to Seattle.” I pushed my food around the plate. If I kept the conversation on him, he wouldn’t ask me questions I didn’t want to answer. I liked my fortress; it kept me safe.

Only he had other ideas. “What’s your story?”

“My story,” I looked up at him. “I’m just a girl. Nothing exciting. School, work, that’s about it.”

“There’s something in your eyes,” he said.

I looked down. He wanted to read me, figure me out. I ate a forkful of pancakes. “I think I’m finished.”

“I’m not done.” He made it clear we weren’t leaving yet.

I bit my lower lip and finally asked him. “What do you want from me?”

He arched an eyebrow, confused. “I want to get to know you. Is that such a horrible thing?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You fascinate me. I just want to know you. What’s the harm in that?”

“Why?” Here it came, the wall that builds faster and thicker than I can keep up with.

“There’s something in your eyes. It tells me to stick around. And there’s no denying you’re gorgeous with an amazing body. Any guy would be smitten.”

If he thought I’d fawn over his compliments, he’d be wrong. “I’m plain, average at most. Surely, you’ve got groupies throwing themselves at you. Why waste your time on someone like me? Or even at a place like Phil’s?”

“Who says I’m wasting my time? I make my own choices.”

“I’m not a choice,” I voiced, trying to clarify where we stood.

“You’re the only option I’m interested in right now,” he countered. He refused to look away, again, his piercing stare left me feeling naked and vulnerable.

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend,” I answered flatly. “And, I’m not looking for a good time. It seems our journey has ended.”

“It’s only beginning,” he answered. He was quite certain of himself.

I shook my head. He wasn’t getting it. Why did I even come out tonight? “Steel, you seem like a nice enough guy, but I’m just not interested.”

“Why did you come out with me tonight?” he challenged. He knew I was lying. There was something in me that was drawn to him. The chemistry I avoided was bigger than both of us.

“Because you wouldn’t take no for an answer,” I fibbed.

“That’s a lie.”

I looked away. He was right.

“You’re here because you want to be.”

**

Steel watched her squirm. What was it about this girl? He wanted to crack the hardened layer protecting her and see who was beneath it. He wanted to save her, hold her, tell her it would be okay. Maybe she reminded him of his sister, or a friend back home, he wasn’t sure, he simply knew that for some reason he kept coming back to see her. When he saw her at the bar on Thanksgiving, something told him he needed to see her one more time. Then that became one more time, and so on. She sat across from him, trying to be smaller, take up less space. She was almost shrinking before him. Why was she so uncomfortable?

**

“Can we go now?”

He lowered his fork. He’d consumed more calories in that one meal than I had all day.

“Yeah,” he said. He called the waitress over, putting his hand up. Then quietly he leaned forward. A low, deep whisper lulled me softly, pulling me in. “Let me in. I won’t hurt you.”

I turned away. Why did he want in so badly? Didn’t he realize, there was nothing left inside of me. I was a shell, an empty vessel.

After settling the bill, we headed back outside. I climbed onto the bike and pressed my body against his. I was uncomfortable this time, and wanted to be as far away from him as I could get. I counted the seconds until he brought me home.

“You can drop me at the bar,” I said before we left.

He nodded and realized I wasn’t taking him home. He didn’t realize the bar was my home. I was ashamed of my crappy, small room upstairs. He didn’t know I shared a bathroom with strangers, and that the sink was old and crusty with a rust ring around it. He didn’t know that I pulled the covers over my head every night trying not to think about what my step-brother did to me, and he didn’t know that I stared at his picture for hours one night, wondering what it would be like to touch him – wishing I liked to be touched.

He pulled up to Phil’s and waited as I climbed off of his bike. “Thanks for the food.”

“Sure thing,” he didn’t make a move. Maybe he finally took the hint.

“You can leave, I’ll be fine,” I let him know.

“I’m waiting for you to get in your car,” he answered.

Do I get in my car, put on a show, pretend that I live somewhere else? Fuck that. “I’m home.”

“What?” He was obviously confused.

I pointed to one of the second floor windows above the bar. “That’s home.”

“Then I’ll walk you in,” he said. He turned off the bike’s engine.

“It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

“I’ll walk you to our door,” he repeated. A gentleman, no doubt.

“Whatever floats your boat.” I said, then quickly added, “You’re not coming in.”

“Understood.”

We went in the side entrance and climbed the stairs. The weathered wainscoting along the wall was in need of repair, and the white paint on the wall above it was now gray and brown from handprints, time, and not being cleaned in ages. The carpet on the stairs was covered in stains.

Embarrassed, I walked forward like I didn’t care or didn’t notice. I was certain he would. I pointed to my door. “This is me.”

“Can I come in? I have to take a leak.”

Great, now I get to admit I don’t have a bathroom. “The bathroom’s over there,” I said pointing to the open door down the hall.

He stood and waited for me to open my door.

I sighed and unlocked the door. He hovered nearby. I went inside. He looked past me, over my shoulder and saw my mattress pushed in the corner, a beat up chest of drawers, shredded curtains and a blind with creased slats. It wasn’t pretty, but it was all I had. I was angry, ashamed. Now he knew my truth. I lived in a dump, and could barely afford this. I shot out, “Happy now?”

Only he didn’t comment. He was too busy inspecting the lock on the door. “I’ll come back tomorrow and install a stronger lock. This won’t do.”

“I can take care of myself,” I said. I resented the fact that he needed to play some superhero. “I don’t need your help.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow with a stronger lock,” he repeated. Apparently, it wasn’t up for discussion.

With that he headed down the hallway to use the bathroom. He knocked gently at the door before leaving. “Goodnight, Avery.”

“Night,” I answered quietly. I closed the door and slid to the floor. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I tucked my head down. Embarrassed, I cried and let out my squished bits of ego, the last few that remained. I shouldn’t care what he thought, but I did.