The Quarterback's Love Child (A Secret Baby Sports Romance Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Seven

Carl

I sounded like my frigging mom. I had no grounds for what I had said to her. My mom had said that it was a rumor and even the guys sighed as I said it.

“She doesn’t even look at another guy, let alone talk to them. You shouldn’t have said that to her. You were way out of line.”

Dwight had a point. If Mom’s claims were real, then why did every guy want to get with her, but none of them had ever had a chance? If they had, they would have bragged about it. One thing about guys in our school was they loved to talk, so much more than the girls.

I shook my head as class started and I didn’t hear a word. The autumn leaves were falling outside and, as the cool wind breezed through them, the sadness on Michelle’s face entered my mind.

“Maybe, Mr. Owen, would you like to tell us how the theme of love is dealt with in Romeo and Juliet?” Mr. Harris asked as he started to move away from his desk and head in my direction.

Shoot, I never read the book. I’d meant to just get the summary version on the Internet, because I had been so caught up in Michelle. Reading about love was the last thing on my mind, especially when all I had been doing was feeling it, until now.

“Well, the theme is dealt…”

Dwight interjected, like the typical hero trying to rescue the day. The same way he did on the field as the brilliant linebacker that he was. He was always protecting us on the field and making sure that none of us got hurt.

“Not you, Mr. Robinson, I was talking to your football colleague, Mr. Owen!”

I hated that Mr. Harris called all of us by our surnames, when none of the other teachers did - and the fact that he had no clue about football. Dwight and I were not football colleagues, but players. I wanted to correct him and put him in his place, but I knew that it would get me into more trouble. Dwight was being the typical best friend and stepping in for me, the problem was it just highlighted the fact that I hadn’t read the book. I didn’t have a clue about how to answer the question.

“Maybe if you spent more time reading and less staring out of the window, then you would be able to answer me.”

This was not a day to argue with anyone. Last night, I’d gotten home around midnight after the sheriff came to Dwight’s treehouse and told me that I needed to go home. Dwight had told his parents that he hadn’t seen me since I’d run off from church. Which was true, until around eight when I’d got cold and tired and gone to his treehouse, the one we used to hang out in as kids and read dirty magazines and talk about girls. Now, all we did was talk about football and women.

“Yes, sir.”

He stood towering over my desk, trying to frighten me. Trying to make me feel inferior as he bent down.

“You’re a senior, if you want to make it to college you have to try harder, because there’s still a chance you will not make it if you don’t get the grades.”

I blinked my eyes and opened them again. I wondered if my mom had taken over his body. I heard her voice saying those words and realized that I was having a nightmare with my eyes wide open. She wasn’t in class, it was just him.

How much pressure could one guy take in a lifetime?

Like a wimp I replied, “Yes, sir.”

He was so close that I could smell the mint that he had been chewing, I wondered if the rumors were true and he had a drinking problem. I shook my head, thinking that I was turning out to be my mom in more ways than I thought were possible and I hated it.

I didn’t care if he had a drinking problem.

I didn’t care that he had just practically spat all over my face with his words, I needed to wipe off the feeling that was burning inside of me. I had crossed the line and I had to undo what I had done to Michelle. I just hoped that she would forgive me. I knew that I didn’t deserve it, but one could only hope.

***

It was lunchtime and I saw her sitting alone outside. Even her friends were sitting away from her. I wondered if they’d all heard about it and decided that she should be alone. The beautiful one with the dark hair and sea blue eyes that I had slept with last week had been branded a whore. That was all it took in this school: one person to accuse you of something and that was it, you were exactly what that kid said.

Especially when the kid was someone like me, popular and liked by all, but a complete prick at the best of times.

I put a smile on my face and, as we stood with our lunch trays, Dwight winked. “Go speak to her. Apologize, ‘cause what you did earlier was wrong.”

I couldn’t argue with him, he had my back. I headed to the tree where she sat alone with her dress and jacket wrapped around her. No one sat out here except during the summer. The autumn could be as brutal as the winter at times, so fucking cold.

“Hey.” I should have just said sorry. She looked up and I saw tears in her eyes. She hadn’t eaten, because her tray was full. She was just staring at it and crying.

“If you came here to call me whore again, don’t worry, I heard you loud and clear the first time around.”

She never looked at me, she was staring at her tray. Her hair, which was usually tied up, was loose and hanging over her face.

I sat down swiftly and dumped my tray next to hers and my bag on the ground. Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead sitting next to her so blatantly in front of the whole school in case people talked, but today I didn’t care about anyone else.

Just her.

“I came to say that I was sorry.”

She didn’t move, as the tears flowed from her eyes.

“I didn’t mean it,” I begged as I reached for her hand.

“So, you have a habit of calling girls whores?”

Again, she didn’t look at me. This apology was going to be tough, not that I deserved anything else.

“There’s so much pressure on me. Mom saw us looking at each other in church and she got all emotional and started going on about stuff.”

I wasn’t going to ask her the question about whether Mia was really her daughter; I didn't deserve an explanation after what I had just done.

“And it’s like everywhere I turn, everyone’s going on about me and college, and I just took it out on you. I like you.”

“Really?” she said as she moved her hand away from mine. She was about to get up and I grabbed her arm so that she would at least hear me out. That was all I wanted.

“It was wrong and I’m sorry.”

“You know what gossip is like?” she spat back as she stood up.

I shook my head, confused by her question.

“Go home, grab a pillow, cut it open and then wave it in the air. Try and get every last piece of feather that goes up in the air.”

I laughed, “That’s impossible.”

She nodded as she took her back pack. “Exactly, just the same as gossip. You can’t take it back, no matter how hard you try.”

Her wisdom threw me back. I had a flash vision of going home and taking a pillow. Cutting it up and trying to recover every last feather that went up in the air. I imagined myself running around and convincing myself that it was possible. That was when it hit me, Michelle was right. The one thing I hated more than anything was gossip, yet I had created it and I couldn’t take it back.

Chapter Eight

Carl

I hated myself for the rest of the day. When we did have class together, I found myself writing a note to her and saying that I was sorry.

“Dwight man, you need to help me out. Michelle’s not giving me another chance.”

“What do you need?”

I knew that I could rely on my right-hand man, but I couldn’t think of what I needed. I stupidly thought of something, a topic that we were studying, and as the Art History class began I raised my hand to talk about the topic that was on my mind right now: love.

I wanted to talk about Delacroix, as his piece was one of the paintings that had come up on the projector. I wanted to express my feelings for Michelle, as I’d told her earlier that I liked her. Like was something you felt about a particular new app, or social media. What I felt for Michelle was deeper than that. I’d ached when my mom had called her a whore and I despised myself for repeating exactly the same thing.

I had done the same crappy thing that I used to do as a kid: whenever I was hurt or annoyed I would relay that feeling back to the person who’d tried to make me feel better.

Right now, I was doing the one thing that I had never done: I was wearing my heart on my sleeve, hoping that Michelle would find a way to believe and forgive me. I couldn't go home tonight thinking that she hated me so much.

I stood up so proudly, "I would like to talk about the The Abduction of Rebecca and why I empathize with this painting."

Mrs Turner seemed amused. "Go ahead then." She hadn't asked for participation or even told us to discuss it. She usually did every time in class, and I would squirm and pray that she wouldn't ask me. She took off her glasses and gave me her full attention as I moved towards the projector. I was hoping that Michelle would listen and would stop bowing her head in shame, but lift it up and hear my plea.

"This painting is about true love. The colors and the contrast emphasize the parts that are horrific, like the background where the castle of Front de Boeuf is on fire. The artist, Eugene Delacroix, wanted us to know about the urgency in this scene. Rebecca was weak and had even been caught in the fire, but was clearly taken by her own free will."

I hesitated as I looked in Michelle's direction hoping that she was listening and I smiled, seeing that she was.

“Everything is dark about this painting, but Delacroix wanted us to see the true beauty. Not the abduction, not the men, not even the fire, but Rebecca. He wanted us to see her, helpless and flawless for the beauty he saw in her, and that was the way he felt about her, and this is why this is my favorite piece by him."

Intrigued, Mrs Turner asked, "Why is that?"

"It shows that, no matter what,” I cleared my throat as I felt a lump was stuck in it. “In all the madness and craziness of this world, that true beauty remains flawless, no matter how hard others try to destroy it.”

She was stunned by my words and even I was taken aback by my honesty. I stared at Michelle as I spoke; I knew that she would understand the meaning of what I was saying about the painting, wasn’t really about the painting. It was about her. She had told me that it was her favorite piece and I had used her words to describe how I felt about her.

“Well, Carl, you’ve really surprised me today. Normally, I think that you’re not listening, or even bored. I take back that I’ve wondered why you took this class in the first place. You have a depth and insight that is very rare for someone of your age.”

She clapped and I grew red at the embarrassment of my teacher thinking that I was something that I wasn’t. I was shocked to discover a paper airplane on my desk with a note from Michelle saying, “Meet me at the same place as last week, at the same time. You’re forgiven. XX”

I had the biggest smile on my face. Not only had she been listening, but she had forgiven me.

***

I was feeling on a high. I didn’t care what the other kids said about my having lunch with Michelle.

I didn’t care that she sat and watched as we practiced football. We didn’t hide the fact that she was there to watch me play. We exchanged glances and a friendly wave. I loved the idea of her being in the stadium to watch me.

I didn’t care if we were caught kissing behind the garages, it made it even better thinking of us being bad.

I was so caught up in this spell that she had put on me and it made me feel alive. My mom warned me every day like she had been doing for the last year. She was shocked at breakfast when I said that I was going to confession after school. Before she could even open her mouth and protest, Dad told her, “Leave the boy alone for once!”

He had put his foot down and I could tell that she was just as surprised as I was, but then again after years of behaving like a doormat, it was about time.

I went into the confession box, which I hadn’t done for the last four weeks since I had started sneaking into Michelle’s house when her parents went to choir practice. Yet, I was completely off my game and felt that I needed to get back to my old routine. Once again, I sat and hoped that it wasn’t Father Roger on the other side, but luck never seemed to be on my side when it came to sitting in the box.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”

I waited for the voice on the other side to speak. The one that would tell me if I was in luck or not. I closed my eyes as he cleared his throat and spoke. “You cannot come to my confession box with your ill thoughts about my daughter.”

I froze, wondering whether to leave or not. This wasn’t what I had expected.

“You’ve been coming here for months, yet the demonic way you look at my daughter makes me think that you have done more than look. You have done more than just think about seeing her body naked. You’ve seen her and you want more.”

“Father…”

              “I am not done!”

I sat with a heavy heart. I wouldn’t let them keep treating us like this. What we had was love, there was nothing demonic or sinful about it.

It was pure and simple love.

And when I left this stupid small town and graduated college, after I had been drafted as a professional football player, I would come back for her. I would make her mine and there was nothing anyone could do about that.

“Do you think you’re the first boy to touch her body?”

I didn’t know how to answer that one. I thought about lying, but I simply whispered, “No.”

“Satan is punishing me through my daughter. She can’t keep still, she wants more of boys than is normal for someone of her age.”

She was eighteen, not eight!

That was what I should have said, but I just sat there hearing his words about his own daughter and they made me feel sick.

“Those short skirts that some of the girls wear to school. They dress and look like whores but at night they’re something far worse.”

He was a man of God. This side to him, I would never have thought it existed. Michelle had told me that her dad had a cloak that disguised what laid beneath, and it was something far worse than I could ever imagine. I should have left, stopped listening to him, but the temptation to stay and hear what he had to say, for him to reveal the darkness that was in him, made me stay put.

“You’ll rot in hell if you touch my daughter one more time! Do you understand me, boy?”

His words were like poison that was trickling into my ears and going all the way to my heart. The love I shared with Michelle suddenly didn’t feel innocent or even right.

“She’s venom. Trying to lead boys like you down the wrong path. If you want to go to college, if you want to succeed in life, then you NEED to stay away. No amount of Hail Mary’s will stop you going down the path that she is leading you. You’re one step away from Hell, make sure that she doesn’t pull you down that path. Make sure!”

He stood up and left. I couldn’t believe that he was repeating the words of my mom and making his own daughter seem as is she was dirty. Being around Michelle had made me feel alive, something that I hadn’t felt in a long time, but in a matter of minutes he had made me feel dead. I felt suffocated as I ran from the box, as if I couldn’t breathe. Tomorrow night I would meet with Michelle and tell her that it was over. We couldn’t do this anymore, it would only end in tears. Not only hers, but mine.

Chapter Nine

Michelle

Carl was always on time. I was usually the one that was always late whenever we had a date, yet tonight I looked up at the clock that chimed at quarter past seven and he hadn’t arrived. I thought that we’d been getting on so well. At least, it had felt that way, until now. I picked up the phone and dialed his number. Unlike all the girls in school, I wasn’t allowed to have a mobile. I wasn’t allowed to have a lot of things and, without any income of my own, it was pretty hard to get one. Just as I was about to key in the final digit there was a knock on the kitchen door.

“There you are, I thought you weren’t coming or something,” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, but he felt different. He didn’t embrace me or say a word.

“What happened?”

Panic set in, thinking that he had been caught, or that there was something wrong with his college application, or something more drastic?

He sighed as I shut the door and moved me away from him.

“Your dad.”

That was my worst fear, but I had gotten to the stage in life where I believed if I didn’t think of something bad then it wouldn’t happen. I guess in this case I was wrong.

He stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, trying to keep his distance from me.

“He knows?” If Dad knew, then he would make sure that I went to choir practice with them, and Mia would be forced to spend the night listening to what should be harmony but always sounded like a cat drowning.

“Yes.” He spat out as he picked up an apple and started to eat it. I wanted to tell him not to do that. If he did then it would be obvious that he’d been here. Sometimes I wondered if Mom knew too, she never accused me of anything, but lately she had been questioning how I had been keeping myself busy whilst they were at choir practice.

The only thing I hated worse than broccoli was apples. She would know that one was gone and I would be the last person in this house to eat it. I hated this sneaking around, but by the look on Carl’s face I had a suspicion that it was coming to an end.

“But if he knows, then how come they left me to go to choir practice? They would stay or at least Mom would.”

He shook his head. “He doesn’t know that I come here at this time.”

Carl had no idea what he was up against. My dad was really the devil in disguise.

“Then what?”

I needed to know what he was thinking and how he had concluded that my mom knew and, even worse, my dad? They’d not said anything as they left, but I knew that when they returned Mom would ask what I did while they were out. I had visions of me telling her that I’d had an apple and her reaction would be to tell Dad, who would automatically send me downstairs. To the place that I had spent many a night, and I didn’t want to spend any more there.

“I went to confession.”

“I told you to stop going.”

I didn’t get why he went in the first place. He seemed to have it in his head that going to confession would make him win a game. That wasn’t the way it worked, but try telling any Christian in this town that, and they’d tell you that I really was the daughter of Satan and not their precious priest.

“And he just said all these things,” Carl shook his head as if he was reliving the moment. “Horrible, disgusting things.”

“Like what?”

He opened his mouth to speak and then he shut it again. He took my hand and his sea blue eyes looked calm, as if he was seeing love and not the nasty words that Dad had said to him.

“It doesn’t matter. We just need to cool it for a while. I don’t believe them.”

“So why did you look scared?”

He ignored my question as he led me up the stairs as I had done for him the first night he’d come. He hugged me so tight as he closed my bedroom door and sighed, “You’re too beautiful to be anything else.”

I didn’t understand what he meant.

“Like… never mind. We only have an hour and, seeing as I won’t be back for a while, let’s make the most of it.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. I had gone completely all-out today. I’d managed to get the one set of decent lingerie that I owned and put it on. My bed was full of petals in the shape of a heart. I didn’t know how else to say the one thing that had been heavy on my mind for a while now, but he got there before me and said, “I love you, Michelle Nelson, and no matter what, you’re mine.”