Blindsided: A Sports Romance (5 page)

I have to fight to stop my eyes rolling when I walk into Excalibur. I mean, seriously. Could they make it any more cliché? Maybe that’s my jaded side talking, but fucking hell. It’s all red velvet booths with a huge dancefloor. There’s even a stripper pole in the center.

We’re led straight to the VIP room upstairs, where there’s a window that looks out onto the rest of the club. It’s only eight thirty but it’s already heaving with guys in suits and girls in… not much.

Denny digs me in the side. “Check it out, man. Half those girls? I bet they’re creaming to get in here with us. And they’ve stocked up on fifty-year-old Glenfiddich. This is gonna be fun. We just gotta look out for each other so we’re all hungover tomorrow for the meeting with Vickers.”

I look around feeling strangely empty, even though I remember a time when I used to live for this shit too.

“I’m more of a tequila man,” I mutter.

“So?” he says, without breaking his stride. “You can take a bath in tequila if you want. Drink goddamn Kahlua out of coconuts.”

“Whatever,” I shrug.

It doesn’t help that I got another message as I got in the car that Dale had booked for us. Same tune, different day. She’s starting to make me really hate Star Wars.

This is it. I can’t help thinking that this is all about to blow up in my face.

I find myself wondering where Rose is as we wander through the VIP room. I’d bet money that it’s not in a place like this, shaking her ass in rich guys’ faces just because of who they are.

“Hey, Thorne,” Dale says, coming up and slapping my back. “Lighten up. Looks like you’re on your period.”

I thump him back. “Happy birthday, fucker. No, just remembering my night with your mom.”

He laughs and I find myself relaxing a little. So what if I’ve had my fill of places like this? Dale is like my brother and it’s his birthday.

We make our way to the table and I order a bottle of tequila. Maybe when I make Rose a part of my life, we’ll look back on this night and laugh. Surely it’ll be different with her. We’ll have nights in together and emerge from our cocoon when we need to, for events like this.

We’ll separate to catch up with different people, but we’ll always be aware of each other, sneaking little glances at each other every couple of seconds. We’ll laugh it off and pretend like we’re gonna be sick if anyone else sees.

“Jesus, Thorne,” Denny says, plonking himself down beside me. “You look like Coach just ordered you to lunge the whole way around the field. What’s with you?”

I shake my head and smile lazily at him, still in the middle of my Rose fantasy. “Nothing, man. Just chilling.”

He flicks me in the balls and I grimace. “What was that for?” I hiss, trying to breathe through the pain.

“I thought those boys might have fallen off, man.”

I grab them and massage, just to make sure they’re still there and haven’t retreated inside my body. “Course they are,” I groan. “No thanks to you.”

He grins and reaches his arm around me. “Good. Because I found us girls. You’re gonna need those guys.”

I turn toward the door with a sense of apprehension and immediately my stomach sinks. These two chicks could be twins. I know two things about them on sight. One, there’s no way those tits are real. Two, they’ve got to be strippers. Got to be.

“How much did you pay them?”

He shakes his head as they approach. “Doesn’t matter, man. Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I made sure to get two that like messing with each other. Just what we need after the first week of training camp.”

***

What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve got a perfectly nice stripper on my lap. Sure her double Ds might be fake, but there’s nothing wrong with them. I’m a guy. Why can’t I relax and enjoy having a nice pair of tits thrown in my face?

Beside me, Denny is having no such problem. He’s whooping and yelling the way I might expect a rookie to. A college rookie, that is. I don’t get it. He’s been playing for this team since before I was drafted. And he still reacts to every chick like she invented pussy.

“You alright down there, big boy?” my one says in a husky voice.

I smile up at her. “Better now you’re here, darlin’.”

Because what else can I say? The guys’ll tease the shit out of me if I tell them the truth. And I need the respect of my team. That’s the way this operates. Denny isn’t gonna pass me the ball if he thinks there’s something up with my game.

She grinds down on my lap and I force myself to relax, even though I’m struggling to keep my attention on her and not gaze around the room. The place is heaving now—Dale is working the room like a pro. The VIP manager brings new girls in every couple of minutes and some of them linger around my teammates.

I happen to be staring at the door when it opens again and a 10/10 pair of legs walks through.

My eyes automatically trail up Miss 10/10 Legs’ body, taking in the little gold dress that cuts off mid-thigh. The perfect cleavage that to my expert eyes looks real. The…

The pouting lips and narrowed eyes and furrowed brow.

I sit forward suddenly and almost knock the girl off my lap.

It’s Rose. And she’s staring straight at me.

This really isn’t my scene, I think as we walk through the packed club. The security guard makes a big show of eyeing us up and down before he pulls aside the velvet rope, even though Jackson has an invite from the guy whose birthday it is and threatens shrilly to call him and have him come down and set the guy straight.

“This is gonna be so much fun,” Van squeals, linking her arm through mine.

I smile back at her and tell my grumpy self to lighten the fuck up. When Jackson is busy talking business with his football people, Van and I will be able to catch up over cocktails and have a dance. God, it’s been ages since I danced. I used to love it. These shoes aren’t made for dancing, but I’ve never let that stop me before.

As we climb the stairs to the VIP level, the thumping base downstairs gives way to… I turn to Van and frown. “Is that country music?”

Jackson smiles. “Yeah, Dale is a huge fan.”

I struggle to work out who Dale is again. Jackson tried to give me a rundown of the team on the way here, but I zoned out after the fifth name. I’ve never been good at concentrating.

Van groaned playfully. “He’s the Defensive Tackle. Whose birthday it is.”

Jackson, on the other hand, isn’t so patient. “You’ve got Denny the quarterback. Bit of a kidder except on the field. His salary is no joke either. Single. Been that way for years. If I was you I’d go straight to him. Manny Holden. He’s another good bet, although he’s retiring at the end of the season. You don’t want that, trust me. Don’t even waste your time on Stevie Vasquez. He used to be a player but now he’s a devoted family man who won’t go there in a million years.”

He pauses to open the door and I’m left wondering what this is. It sounds like he’s taking me shopping for a guy—like I care about their positions and net worth.

“Now Dale,” he says, turning to me and whispering. “Might seem like a good catch. But believe me. I’ve bailed his ass out of trouble enough to know that he’s never gonna change. Don’t waste your time—too many ladies have had their hearts broken and he doesn’t even…”

It’s like his voice peters out. Jackson is still talking but I don’t hear any of it.

Straight ahead of me.

I don’t get it.

Jake. Jake Thorne.

With a naked chick dancing on his lap.

“That’s Jake Thorne,” Jackson says, following my gaze. “Haven’t met the guy yet. He’s kept his partying on the DL so far. Hasn’t needed me.”

“I know who he is,” I say faintly. But the rest of Jackson’s words jar in my mind. How does Jackson know how Jake parties? How does Jackson even know who he is?

Jake stares right back at me with a horrified look on his face.

“What’s he…”

“I thought you said you knew him,” Jackson snaps. “He’s a wide receiver. A good one too.”

I try not to stare, but I can’t help it. What the fuck is he doing here, and why did he tell me he was a hotel inspector? I’m no genius when it comes to football, but even I can tell that’s probably not a nickname for a football position. Plus he fed me that bullshit about his job and…

“Rose?” Van asks, frowning. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a…”

She trails off. And a second later I know why.

“Hi.”

He’s looming over me, huge and powerful and sexy. It all makes sense now. I wondered about that but I didn’t think too much about it.

A hotel inspector.

Bullshit.

Hotel inspectors aren’t built like this.

I should have known.

“Shouldn’t you be putting on a pair of white gloves and running them over the reception desk back at the hotel?”

His face falls. “Yeah about that.”

Van looks from me to him and back. She shoots me a look that says ‘you’ve been holding out on me, bitch’ but all she says is: “I’m going to get us cocktails from the bar”.

And suddenly we’re all alone. Well, us and the crowd of people around the room. And that godawful music too, of course. But you know what I mean—his presence seems to drown out the background.

“You realized you were really good at throwing balls and decided on a career change?” My voice is ice, but my body is anything but. I hope he doesn’t notice that my pulse is racing out of control. I’m thankful for the lighting at least—if I’m flushed, there’s no way he’s going to know that thanks to the blue neon glow that bathes the room.

“Better at catching them, actually.” He sees the look on my face. “Sorry. What are you doing here?”

I shrug. “We’d planned a girl’s night. Van’s boyfriend had an invite for the party and he thought we might enjoy it.”

His eyes widen. This conversation is as unpleasant for me as it is for him. I can tell. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It’s too loud in here to have this conversation—that’s if we even need to have this conversation. Do we? Nothing has happened between us. It was just one kiss. It’s not even like he needs to explain anything to me. I’m just… disappointed? That’s an understatement.

C’mon, Rose. Don’t let him see that. Just walk on out of here with your head held high.

I look up into his hazel eyes. I just can’t tear myself away. I smile awkwardly. So does he. I want to slap him and cry and scream. I know that’s completely illogical. I want to kiss him. Push him. Pull him to me. There’s all this emotion and we never shared anything except for a kiss.

One amazing kiss.

We could have had something.

I don’t know how long I just stand there, staring up at him dopily.

A huge guy lumbers over to his side and slaps him before I get to do it—not that I would have. “Hey, man. What got into you? I paid for that dance.” He looks at me. “Hi.”

I force a smile. “Well, good luck with your football or hotel inspections or whatever it is you do. I’d better go find my friend and help her with those drinks.”

I watch her stalk off with a feeling of helplessness. There’s nothing I can do or say to explain myself to her. I knew I should have just told her the truth. Knew it.

“What’d you do that for, man?” I say, shoving Denny’s arm off my shoulder.

“What?” he asks, eyes wide. “What are you talking about? You’re the one who walked out mid-dance. Now my one’s pissed too. So we both miss out.”

“They’re strippers, Denny. You paid them. Why would they be pissed?”

He shrugs. “They’re pissed. Fucked if I know what’s going on in their minds.”

I stare across the bar at Rose. I know exactly why
she’s
pissed and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I can tell by the way her jaw is set. Oh, she’s trying to laugh along with her friends, but she’s mad as hell.

I lean forward.

“What’s up with you?” Denny asks, following my gaze to the bar. “She’s why you’re pissed at me?”

“I don’t know.” My words come out as a long sigh. “She’s…” I stop. Because I don’t know what she is.

“Shots,” Denny announces. “Shots make everything better.”

As he wraps his arm around me and leads me back to our table, I think about his words. Maybe shots really do make anything better.

***

“Hey. Rose.” I stare at her, blinking. Is it just me or is she swaying? It must be past midnight but I don’t remember seeing her drink that much.

“Hi, Jake,” she says quietly, without an ounce of the warm that’s usually in her voice. It’s like honey.
She’s
like honey.

I realize she’s not the one who’s swaying. That’s me.

And I don’t give a fuck.

“Rose, I’m sorry,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re drunk.” That cold smile is still plastered on her face.

“Yeah. But I’m sorry too. Drunk and sorry. Drorry.” Her friend grins but Rose’s smile still doesn’t extend all the way to her eyes.

“Look, Jake, what’s the point? I don’t like being lied to. I don’t even know
why
you lied. I mean, if you were a hotel inspector and you lied about being a pro-footballer, that might make sense.”

I open my mouth to explain and dammit my tongue feels like it’s been tied in knots. That would be the stream of tequila I’ve been shooting all night.

“Rose,” I say slowly, trying to get my thoughts in order. “Rose I’m sorry. I thought—”

She holds up her hand and there’s that smile again. I hate seeing it—it reminds me how warm and open her real smile is and how I’ll probably never see it again.

“Look, don’t. You don’t need to explain. It’s time I left anyway.”

I try to convince her to stay; to dance with me, but she’s out of the room and down the stairs before I have time to even say it.

“Wait,” I mutter uselessly.

Her friend stops me before I can follow her. I turn to look at her, blinking slowly. “What? I should…”

She shakes her head and I stare hypnotized at her thin gold earrings as they reflect the dim light. “No. I don’t know what’s going on, but don’t screw it up even more. I’ve seen her like this. There’s no way you’re going to get through to her when she’s that pissed.”

“She’s really pissed, huh?” I asked even though I know the answer. I may be drunk as fuck, but I saw the anger in her eyes.

“Um, yeah,” she says, confirming it was the stupidest question in the world. “I better go make sure she gets home okay.”

***

I squint across the room and frown. Something’s not right and I can’t figure it out. And then I realize I’m seeing double. I lean over to Denny and laugh.

“Shots time for the birthday boy. C’mon.”

His face looms in front of mine. I close one eye but it’s still a struggle to see his face clearly. “Come on, man. Let’s get you home.”

I push him away. Home? I don’t have a home. I live in a hotel. Just like I have ever since I was drafted. It suits me fine. And anyway, I’m not like the other guys with the freedom to just buy their own places.

“Denny, I don’t like it. Not home.”

She’s there, but she’s pissed at me.
I’m
pissed at me.

“Thorne.” He starts to lift me. “Come on. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Yes I do.” A second burst of energy rushes through me. I want to dance. I scramble onto the table. Rose makes me want to dance. But I can’t see her anywhere. I jump down onto the floor and almost collide with a familiar face. Her heavily-glossed lips form a surprised ‘o’ and she seems to be saying something that I can’t make out. It’s all in slow motion.

It’s the stripper from earlier.

Now I remember. Right before…

I lift her effortlessly and throw her over my shoulder. “C’mon, we’ll go find Rose. I wanna dance with her. You can tell her you’re a stripper and that Denny paid you to dance for me.”

I’ll make it right again. Rose has to believe me. I’ll tell her why and everything’ll be okay and…

I lurch forward. It feels like I’m in a tunnel—there’s all this noise and shouting, but everything feels like it’s very far away from me. I close my eyes and try to speak, but I can’t. I feel like everybody’s looking at me but I can’t tell why.

And then everything fades and turns black and I want to sleep so bad but I want to find Rose too and dance. I want to dance. With her. With Rose.