Penalty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 3) (2 page)

Abe is unnervingly hot and mesmerizing, and if I’ve fallen victim to the stocky jock’s tangible and intangible charms, who really stands a chance?

“Are you new here?” Abe asks.

“Yes,” I say more steadily. “I just transferred here.”

“Thought so,” he says with a slight nod. “I definitely would have noticed you before.”

I almost laugh.

But wait, is he flirting with me? Has my brain shorted? Am I still daydreaming?

“I doubt it,” I say softly, shaking my head and glancing away.

“I noticed you today, didn’t I?”

“Class of twenty made it easy, I guess.”

“True. But you stand out anyway.”

Okay, fuck this guy.

He has already started the clock on the bet with himself to bed me, and I’m not gonna encourage him.

I mean, who does he think he is? He thinks he can just have anyone he wants? The nerdy transfer is now his latest intended conquest? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?

The reminder of his status is like a bucket of cold water dumped on my overheated body.

What entitlement.

This egotistical athlete feels he can have his cake and eat it too, and his poor girlfriend just has to take it because she’s understandably stuck on him, unable to quit the unfairly gifted piece of man meat.

A man this handsome, this buff, with that silky masculine voice and those sparkling eyes, that square jaw, and those ridiculously broad shoulders… I can’t blame her for being unable to let the gorgeous cheating bastard go.

But he’s
her
problem and shall remain so.

I won’t be the next lamb to the slaughter; I won’t fall victim to the cocky jock.

There’s just no way I’m enabling disgusting cheating swine.

“What’s your major?” he asks lightly.

“Look, I’d love to continue this conversation—” Why the fuck did I say that? “—but I have a class to rush to.”

I quicken my steps, taking off as fast as I can without actually running.

I
stare
at Madison’s rapidly retreating form, watching her slight frame navigate the crowded hallway as a strange peace fills me.

Maddy’s here; I can’t believe it.

Madison Mills, if I remember correctly.

Either way, it’s her—the shy, slippery girl is definitely the ethereal creature who lived a few doors down from me a lifetime ago.

She was pretty much the only light back then, back before things got even darker.

In those days, I’d forget my worries for a moment and watch her and her mother tend to their gardens, wishing I could join them but fearing ridicule and laughter, so I never dared to.

My dad would have, no doubt, had a few choice words about my desire to help out two women in a garden, and ‘sissy’ would be the least of them.

He wouldn’t understand I just needed to bask in their warmth, to be around the joyous younger girl. He wouldn’t get that she made me feel something I’d never felt.

He wouldn’t approve of me reaching out and doing anything for them at all—girls were supposed to do things for you. Everything for you.

The ladies were obviously close, and despite their differing physical features—the oval face and extra long hair just about all they had in common—they were very clearly mother and daughter.

They seemed so happy together.

I never saw Maddy’s father around, and I always thought about how lucky she was in that sense.

I start walking to my next class, still preoccupied with memories, barely aware of fellow students trying to say hi or sending me a smile as my mind sticks on young Maddy and the old days.

I used to watch her at every opportunity—peeping through window blinds and from house corners—trying hard not to let her catch me staring.

For the most part, it seemed she had no clue I was visually stalking her every move—watching her learned hand prune, water, fertilize, and sometimes, display a matured vegetable proudly to her mother.

Maddy was the loveliest creature I had ever seen—her serenity a sort of drug. I became addicted to the calmness of her spirit, the quiet beauty of her face.

I knew she was around my age—several years away from being a woman—and yet every fiber of my being said she was to be
my
woman; she was meant for me.

But there was no way I could bring her into my life as it was.

I held back from introducing myself many times, knowing the moment we took that step, she’d be drawn into my world—even if just a little bit—and some of my darkness would eat her light. Perhaps swallow her whole.

She didn’t deserve that.

I always imagined she went on to live a happy life, full of laughter and smiles and sunny skies, but it seems some darkness reached her after all.

I wonder what happened?

She is no longer joyous; she no longer seems at peace.

Whatever went down, I wish I’d been there for her.

I need to know what went on in the eight years since we crossed paths, why she looks so sad. Why she seems so guarded and closed off.

I have no doubt I’ll find out soon.

Other than the gloom about her, the years have been good to her.

She is still beautiful, despite how much she obviously tries to hide it.

She wears no makeup, but her golden skin is flawless, blemish-free and glowing with youth, and her unpainted lips stir my imagination; her natural beauty shines through.

And I’m dying to see her hair down.

I wonder if she kept it long?

I don’t think she remembers me, and I don’t blame her—our eyes met few times in my short time living in her neighborhood, and since we never spoke, she had no real reason to register me.

She is burned into my memory, however, since I watched her so much, unbeknownst to her—although I think she caught me once. Maybe twice.

Still, it was a long time ago, and in those transformative years since leaving that neighborhood, I went from a tallish, sinewy fourteen-year-old to a much taller, much broader muscular man.

Lots changed in my physical appearance, but to me, Maddy still looks about the same. I think she’s even the same height.

She might be wary of me now—likely due to my reputation—but I’ll infiltrate her defenses and more.

I’ll tease that light out of her again and find out what dimmed it in the first place—hopefully without bringing up our past. Part of me wants to, since mentioning our brief history would probably be the easiest way to get her to open up to me, but it would mean opening up a can of worms I’d rather keep sealed.

If it wasn’t for young Maddy, I might have completely blocked that period from my memory.

“Hey, babe!” Bethany’s piercing voice almost makes me jump in guilt.

Where the hell did she just come from? And why should I feel guilty? It’s not like I was having dirty thoughts about Madison; I haven’t betrayed my girlfriend.

“Hey,” I return brightly, accepting her light embrace.

“I heard you made a new friend today,” she says just as brightly.

We both just lied to each other with our tones.

Wait, what the fuck? She heard about ‘a new friend?’

I control my reaction, keeping my face neutral.

I know I’m just being paranoid again—there’s a good chance she’s not referring to my little chat with Madison at all—I mean, it just fucking happened.

I better tread lightly.

“What do you mean?”

“A little birdie told me they saw you chatting up some nerdy type. I figure you must be fishing for a tutor.”

She smiles widely, but the way she said the words—it’s not as casual as it seems at all.

There’s a dark inquiry beneath—a sharp accusation—despite her neutral blue eyes and that purchased million-dollar smile.

“Maybe,” I say with a casual shrug, trying to figure out how best to frame my interaction with Madison.

The last thing I need is Bethany trying to form a wedge between Maddy and me before I can even begin to work on her, which there’s no doubt I’m going to do.

Seeing Maddy today, sitting in the back of class while everyone filed in—it was like a lock clicked into place.

The clarity I felt was all-encompassing, every fiber of my being taken over by one thought, one unassailable bit of knowledge—Maddy is the one for me.

From then on, I pulsed with the need to make her mine as soon as possible, far beyond claiming her slight body, so different from Bethany’s accentuated curves.

Everything about Maddy is understated, and it only makes me want her more.

I had always known I wouldn’t stay with Bethany, despite knowing she’s practically picking out china patterns by now, but I had no idea when to finally bother breaking things off officially.

We’ve been together a few years—ever since she made it clear she had her eyes on me—and it’s been convenient having her around, taking care of basic needs while I maintain the necessary emotional distance required for distraction-free play as I work on my future.

I’m aware that, as a couple, the optics for us are good. Beth and I fit a certain image—sought-after football star with the hottest girl on campus—so everyone’s rooting for us.

And there’s no doubt about it—Bethany is steaming hot. She’s pretty much the most wanted chick around.

Maybe even without me attached to her, she would have been, so we’re definitely status symbols to each other. A power couple.

But that’s it.

I never really connected with her, but she initially pursued me pretty aggressively, and with no real risk for me involved, why not?

I knew from the get-go what her endgame was—girls like her come after guys like me for one thing only—to lock us down and bask in our glory. To perhaps never have to work again as a sports wife, a well-paid athlete’s trophy.

She’s from a solid upper-middle-class home, but with me being up for the draft, the dollar potential is huge—bigger than she’s used to, anyway.

She wanted the most eligible pick, and she got it.

I figured maybe something would spark for us eventually, and since it still hasn’t, the run is over.

I was betting on the two of us parting after graduation, but now that Maddy’s back in my sphere, I have even more reason to get it over with sooner than later.

Nothing has changed about the way I feel about Maddy in the eight years since we last saw each other—there’s still no doubt that she should be mine.

I just have to figure out a way to let Bethany down gently.

“I was mostly being friendly,” I continue. “She’s new, looked a bit lonely… ”

“How’s that your problem?”

“I actually sort of know her; we used to live in the same neighborhood.”

“Oh.”

Bethany’s voice is different, and I can feel she has backed off, but I’m not sure how she’s actually processing the information.

That’s one of the things that trips me up about her—I can never really tell what’s going on with her outside of when she’s being jealous and possessive.

I feel like even now, after almost three years together, she has never shown me the real her.

Everything she has ever done, everything she’s shown me, has been to convince me in some way that I’m supposed to marry her. She has worked hard on staying with me; she has a plan for her life involving me.

She won’t take me dumping her well.

“Anyway, I was thinking we could go to that new restaurant Saturday… ”

“For what?” I ask before I can stop myself.

She gives me a reprimanding look.

“Um, our anniversary? You mean you seriously forgot?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. I mean, it’s just that I’m running some drills Saturday, and the guys will probably want to hang out after.”

I think she actually she stomps her foot, like a toddler at the beginning of a tantrum.

I brace myself.

I have seen her lose her temper a few times, and it’s both a hilarious and horrifying sight.

She looks like a totally different person when her face tightens in fury.

“It’s our anniversary!” she says in outrage. “Fuck those guys—you can always go out with them the day after, or even the day before. You can’t just move around the anniversary of your first date.”

Actually, according to my experiences, anything can be moved around—birthdays, holidays, names, and even parents.

I’m about to mention something along those lines, but I suddenly feel exhausted and don’t have the energy to fight her right now.

I sometimes give in to her demands just to calm her down, and I know it’s why she does it—why anyone who throws a tantrum does it—to get their way—but I can’t help it.

I’m all for excitement in life, and my arms are wide open to crazy new experiences, but I don’t like drama, which is yet another reason Beth and I are mismatched because she has it in spades. She loves it. Lives for it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, which doesn’t give her what she wants, but she also has an image to maintain and can’t afford to escalate right now, especially since it’s time for my next class.

We part ways with her still pouting.

I’ll see what I can do indeed—about finally disentangling myself from her, freeing myself from her obstinate grip at last.

I relax into my chair, ignoring feminine glances darting in my direction as they realize I’m sharing their Economics class.

This class is more my speed; I’m not here because of some basic requirement, like that English class.

I thought I’d hate going to that one, but knowing I get to see Maddy almost every other day in it suddenly makes it my favorite class.

I realize it’s a bad idea to let myself get caught up in fantasies of being with Maddy, and an even worse idea to have every intention of making them become a reality since, no matter how quiet and unintrusive a girl might seem, having someone you actually care about is bound to bring drama, and I know dumping Bethany will only be the beginning.

But I don’t care; I need Maddy.

And I’m going to have her.

* * *

I
try
as hard as I can not to look up every time a student or group of students reaches the doorway, but I can’t stop glancing up.

Every few seconds or so, my eyes are scanning for Abe.

I realize my body had been wound tight only when it relaxes as my eyes finally meet his as he appears, and he gives me his heart-melting crooked smile again.

I tell myself I’ll get used to it—that one day, those green eyes on me and that adorable smile won’t affect me as much as it does now.

I remind myself it’s just my lack of exposure—my avoidance of social outings and my inexperience, in general, with the opposite sex—that’s allowing him to wreak havoc on my brain and body.

It’s just biology, and one day, I’ll overcome it.

I do my best to pay attention in class, ignoring his presence and what feels like his gaze on me every now and then.

The sensation is strangely familiar.

When class ends, I wonder if he’s going to try to talk to me again, and for the first time, I wonder how he managed to end up in step with me that first day when he left class ahead of me, as he’s doing now?

Did he actually wait for me? And in my distraction, I managed to miss his hulking form leaning casually against the wall until he spotted me?

I almost laugh out loud.

Good one, girl. Yeah, that’s right—Abe the Babe wanted to talk to you so badly, he waited for most of your classmates to file past, perhaps delaying his arrival to his next class—not that anyone would care if the star athlete turned up late—just to get a few words in with you.

I’m smiling to myself at the ludicrousness of the fantasy when the last part of it comes to life before my eyes, and I actually catch Abe peeling himself off the wall out of his casual position as he fixes his green gaze on me.

Everything in me starts jumping around like an excited dog while I try to remind myself that whatever he’s doing is just part of some game. In many ways, Abe the Babe is a player.

“Does your girlfriend know you’re stalking classmates?” I ask casually once our bodies line up as he falls into step with me.

“Ouch,” he says, his large hand covering his heart over that massive chest of his and almost making me feel bad for a second.

He’s not hurt, of course—it’s clear he’s just being funny or whatever he thinks passes as funny. His eyes are dancing with humor.

“My girlfriend does actually know I’ve found a new friend,” he says, and before I can retort that I’m not his goddamned friend, he says, “In any case, I’m planning to break up with her.”

I try really hard to ignore the leap of joy inside me.

Boy, am I learning a lot of new ways your body can betray you. No matter what my brain says, other parts of me totally ignore it.

I better learn how to control my reactions to him soon or I’ll be in big trouble in no time flat. Flat on my back too, most likely.

“And?” I say, hoping I sound dismissive.

“And I’ll be free soon. Beth and I had a mutually beneficial arrangement, but for me, it’s over now. Despite what you probably think, I’m not a cheater. And I certainly wouldn’t do that to someone I’m actually into, someone I care about.”

He’s looking at me way too intently. Is he talking about her or me?

“It’s time for a clean slate,” he finishes.

Aw, man—his poor girlfriend. He’s so casual about it!

I stop walking, bringing my fingers to my forehead and making him halt his steps to turn to me.

“So let me get this straight—you’re saying now that you’ve found new prey—I mean a new challenge… crap, why can’t I get this right? Anyway, now that you’re pretending to be into me, you’re going to dump your girlfriend, who’s been with you for however long, just like that? You think this makes you more attractive the way you’re happy to jump from one to the next? I’m supposed to fall all over you and let you pick me up and run me back to your cave?”

I think I actually see hurt on his face this time, and I feel a definite pang of regret, deepening with each passing second.

I can’t handle the guilt—I can’t handle anything he handed me in the past minute or so, so I turn away from him to leave.

Before I can get far and settle into a quickened gait, I feel a large warm hand on my arm.

“Maddy,” Abe says in a way that immediately freezes my struggle against him.

He uttered my name with such warmth, such familiarity, it utterly confuses me for a moment.

Well, it confused my brain—my body is again in traitor mode, leaning toward him, melting for him, aching for more than just his large warm hand on my skinny arm.

“You don’t get to call me Maddy!” I manage to say, outraged, finally returning to struggling against his spell while I pull my arm away from his delicious grip. “You don’t know me like that. Only friends and family get to call me Maddy.”

It angers and frustrates me that he has this much power over me and I don’t know what to do about it!

I feel so defenseless against him, and that kind of vulnerability is most definitely unwelcome.

This is the kind of boy my mom warned me about—a guy like this could easily push me off track. I could end up delaying my goals and dreams because my eyes, my arms, my body can’t get enough of him.

I’d be a slave to my emotions—my addiction to him—until he says it’s over, and then I’d be left to pick up the pieces and try to move on and make up for lost time while he journeys on, unimpeded.

Men don’t let anyone stop them
, my mom’s voice whispers in my head, reminding me.

Girls usually change their plans for guys, hedging their bets, while men rarely take the same risk. In the end, the guys are still on the same path they meant to be on, with or without you.

Abe’s about to say something to me while I fight getting trapped in his sea-green eyes again when his gaze suddenly breaks from mine.

His eyes fixate on something behind me, off to the side.

I can tell he’s working on masking his true reaction, and he does a damned good job because I certainly don’t expect to see a stunning blonde heading for us as I turn, her dark blue eyes almost murderous.

I have no doubt this is Bethany, and I take a moment to appreciate her physical perfection.

She has a symmetrical face, wide blue eyes, and a bow mouth painted red.

Her makeup is flawless—enhancing her features without overwhelming her face, her long lashes framing her ocean-colored eyes beautifully.

Her blond hair looks professionally styled—like she has a beauty team with her from the moment she wakes up.

I wonder how long it actually takes her to get dressed?

Takes me about twelve minutes to shower, moisturize, and get ready—if I don’t count doing my hair. I don’t have to bother with my hair the majority days anyway—I just brush the sides and top, maybe tighten the bun or twist a little. I try to deal with the entire length of my hair once a week or less.

But this girl—she probably rivals my longest time, even without having as much hair.

Her nails are in a clean French manicure, not a wrinkle to be seen on her clothes.

For some stupid reason, my eyes scan her fingers for a ring.

She’s wearing one, but on a finger that doesn’t matter.

Her gaze locks on me for what feels like an uncomfortably long time, and though her impossibly straight, white teeth are bared in a smile, it doesn’t get anywhere near her eyes, making her look sort of demonic.

“Hi!” she says brightly, her voice a contrast to her glaring eyes, and she breezes past me to grab for Abe, pulling his head to hers for a kiss.

She makes weird, annoying sounds as she does it, and though I can see Abe trying to pull away, jealousy rages through me.

When he finally disentangles himself from her, his face revealing distaste and disapproval of her actions, she misses it because she has already turned back to me and stuck her hand out.

“I’m Beth,” she says. “Abe’s girlfriend.”

As if it needed to be said. She very clearly just marked her territory. If she were a guy, it was like watching her whip her dick out and pee on her property.

Heck, from the moment she was in my sight, giving me a death glare, her message was clear—he’s mine.

“I’m Madison,” I say, taking her hand. “Look, I’ll leave you guys to it—I’ve gotta run to my next class.”

“Definitely keep running, bitch,” I think I hear her say, but I choose to ignore it, blaming my sometimes overly active imagination.

At this time, however, imagination is no match for the real thing—the slap of reality has quite a sting.

Seeing Abe’s girl in the flesh puts things in perspective again.

The girlfriend about to be dumped isn’t just an idea—she is very real, and I get the sense she’s nowhere near on the same page as Abe.

That girl is not going to take Abe’s news very well—if he even goes through with it, and I don’t see why he would.

She’s into him, she’s gorgeous, and she’ll cut a bitch.

Abe might have a crazy effect on me, but no matter how much I want to be able to take him up on his offer, the last thing I need is to deal with a jilted girlfriend, one who is clearly the epitome of drama.

Parts of me want to explore things with Abe, but I don’t think it’ll be worth it.

My peace of mind is worth a whole lot more; those two can keep each other.

I can’t help throwing a glance back at Abe, and his light green eyes are intently on me, sending a thrill shooting throughout my entire body, zapping around until it hits my core.