Whiplash: A Sports Romance (17 page)

“But you’ve won every game so far this season. If anyone should be shaking in their cleats, it’s
them
. Not you.”

He winces. “Still…”

“I’ll tell you what…” I sit up, leaning in a little closer to kiss his neck. “How about I give you some
serious
incentive…?”

“What kind of incentive?”

“Well… if you guys win the Homecoming game
and
you ace this test tomorrow…” I lick his earlobe.
“I’ll let you put it anywhere.”

Junior twitches. “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

“Including—?”

“Uh-huh,” I nod.

He forcefully exhales. “That is some
serious
incentive.”

I slip off the bed and grab my panties from the floor. “I mean, if you think that’s too easy, I can make it more difficult—”

“No, no…” He stands up. “Your terms are reasonable...”

“Are you sure?”

He watches me dress, his eyes blissfully riding my curves as I hide them under my skirt. “I got this.”

“Good.” I toss his over-sized shirt off and put on my own blouse. “Have fun at practice. Text me if you run into any study issues later—”

Junior slides out in front of me. “What if I get a
B
on the test
and
we win the game?”

I smile. “All or nothing, Junior.”

“B-plus?”

“It’s an A… or you get no A.”

“Shit…”
he laughs. “That was clever.”

I pop up onto my toes to kiss his cheek. “Bye, Junior.”

“Bye, Ellie.”

I scan the street for any witnesses before stepping outside, a habit I’ve developed since the first time I entered his house, and the reality of this situation settles in my gut.

It’s a habit for a reason. Junior and I aren’t supposed to be
hooking up
like this. Even if the two of us really did want to be something more, there’s still an obvious obstacle for us to work around.

He’s my father’s star quarterback. I honestly don’t know what my father would do if he ever found out, but I can safely say he won’t be popping open any bottles of champagne in celebration.

I climb into my car as Junior steps outside to make his way back to campus. He throws a quick wave in my direction and I return the gesture. I think to blow him a kiss, but that’s not what we are.

We’re having fun. That’s all this is. Just good, old-fashioned, casual sex. A quick wave is justified. A blown kiss means something we’re not.

I can keep pretending that doesn’t bother me. I’m an actress, after all.

The show must go on.

Chapter 17

Junior

“Pack it in, guys!” Coach shouts. “We’re done.”

I pick myself up off the grass. That last tackle knocked the wind out of me. Not quite as much as Eliza promising me her ass this weekend, but still enough to make me feel a little lightheaded.

“Hey, Junior!”

I spit out my mouth guard and pull my helmet off. “Yeah, Coach?”

He nods as I pass by him towards the locker rooms. “Excellent hustle out there today. Whatever action you’re getting at night, keep it up.”

I grin. “Oh, I will.”

He waves me off and I instantly feel someone bump my shoulder. It’s Ty, of course, casting me a vicious side-eye through his face guard but his lips still twitch with amusement. He hasn’t said a word to anybody about me and Eliza, despite his protests to the relationship entirely.

Relationship.
I can’t really use that word, can I?

I mean, I suppose we have
relations,
but that’s not really the same thing. There’s no acceptable label for what Eliza and I are — at least, not one I’d openly admit to my mother or anything.

I shower off the sweat and dirt, listening to the echoing banter of my teammates in the crowded locker room.

Every time I feel this water on my skin, my brain instantly goes back to that day she walked in here. I don’t even remember what I was thinking about at the time, but I sure as hell remember the bolt of lightning that shot through my toes the second I heard her voice. I could barely move or think or breathe. All I could do was listen to her boots tapping on the floor, inching closer to me. That’s all it took for me to grow rock hard. Then I had her pinned against the lockers and all I could think about was—

“Junior — you coming?”

I snap out of it and see John staring at me from the next stall over.
“What?”

“To the party,” he says, running a hand through his shaggy, brown hair. “One last blowout before two days of clean eats and protein shakes in prep for the game.”

“Oh…” I twist the shower off and wipe the water from my eyes. “No, sorry. I gotta study tonight.”

“Study?”

I wrap my towel around my waist. “I have a test tomorrow morning.”

He laughs at me and follows me across the room towards the lockers. “You don’t gotta
study
, man. You play
football
.”

“I need to ace this one to…” I notice the coach lingering outside of the back office. He pauses, just barely glancing over at us but I can tell he’s listening in. “To keep my grade up.”

“And to please that little tutor of yours, too, I bet…”

I blink. “What?”

“Oh, come on…” He nudges my ribs. “Why else would you have gone all
academic
this semester? There’s a sexy tutor, right?”

I hesitate. “I have a tutor, yeah, but she’s not—”

“Is she hot?” he interrupts, raising his brow. “She must be putting out if she’s got you hitting the books so much.”

I pause, forcing the reply back down my throat.

Before, I would have spilled every bean I had about whatever girl I was hooking up with: what she sounded like, how tight she was, where every little birthmark or freckle was on her body. But now? I don’t even want to mention it’s even happening — like it’s none of their business at all. That’s between me and Eliza and it should stay that way.

“She’s a tutor,” I say instead.

“That’s a
yes
,” he grins. “You should give me her number. I got a
D
that sure could use a little
extra attention
.”

The room erupts with immature cackles and John accepts his well-deserved high-fives but I’m not laughing. Just the thought of Eliza even talking to any of these bastards makes my vision turn red.

“So, what’s her name?”

I grab a shirt from my locker. “She’s not available.”

“Oh, come on…” He punches my shoulder and my blood boils. “We’re a team. We can take turns with her.”

I spin around, ready to pounce on him even if he has a decent twenty pounds on me.
“Back off,”
I growl. “I said she’s not available.”

His expression changes, shifting into something fierce and predatory. “I never thought I’d see the day… Junior Morgan is
pussy-whipped
—”

“Say that again,” I warn.

“You think you can take me,
Junior
?”

“Pretty confident I can.”

“Hey!”

All heads turn towards the coach and the tension falls from our shoulders.

“Hurry up and clear out,” he barks.

I back up, retreating to my locker to grab the rest of my clothes, ignoring the soft, murmuring voices coming from the others.

Ty passes by me on his way out and he offers a quick pat on my back — a subtle, but welcoming, sign of camaraderie. At least he’s still on my side.

I finish getting dressed and rush out into the hallway to distance myself from thick, uncomfortable air.

“Junior…” Coach greets me as soon as I step out, pushing off the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, Coach?”

“The team comes first.”

I pause. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing is more important,” he says. “Not even a pretty girl. I don’t want to see you picking fights with the team like that again. She’s not worth it.”

I bite my tongue, wondering if he’d be saying the same thing if he knew it was Eliza I just defended. “Yes, Coach,” I say, swallowing it down. “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

He nods and wanders off, disappearing down the hall towards his office.

She’s not worth it.

In a way, I see his point. If the team isn’t on the same page, then we don’t play well together on the field. It’s my job as quarterback to lead the offense and I can’t do that effectively if they hate me.

Maybe I should make an appearance at this party, after all. Just an hour or so to smooth things over with the guys before heading to the library to do a few practice problems Eliza assigned me.

It couldn’t hurt, right?

***

“Long time no see, Junior Morgan.”

I look up from the couch to find Stephanie Gomez leaning over the arm with her tits hovering just an inch or two away from my chin.

“Hey, Steph,” I murmur, sliding away to distance myself from her rank, potent perfume.

She smiles wide and leans in to close the gap. “What have you been up to this semester?
I’ve missed you…
”

Her hand slides over my thigh and I pause with sudden clarity. Last year, this move would have floored me. I’d take one look at her sizable cleavage, wink into her glazed, drunken eyes, and ten minutes later I’d be tugging on her blonde hair to let her know I was about to finish. But now?

She’s
repulsive
.

“I’ve been keeping busy,” I say.

“Not too busy for little, old
me
tonight, are you?”

I push her hand off my thigh. “I am, actually.”

She winces, feigning disappointment.
“Boo!”

If the rejection stung her, she certainly isn’t showing it. She scampers off and instantly falls into John’s arms — and he’s more than welcome to take her. He nods in my direction and flashes me a thumbs up. I guess that’s the upside to Junior Morgan being supposedly off-the-market: the ladies move on to the next available guy in line.

A body plops onto the seat next to me. “Saving yourself for me, Lover Boy?”

I laugh. “Hey, Grant.”

His brows bounce and he takes a sip from his plastic cup. “Your roommate wouldn’t happen to be here tonight, would he?”

“He’s around,” I answer, shaking my head.

“Good.”
His eyes scan the crowd like a ravenous hawk.

“What are you doing here?” I ask him. “This doesn’t seem like your crowd at all.”

“It’s more my crowd this year than
yours
, apparently,” he says. “I’ve been to the last
three
pre-game parties.
You
have not.”

“Bad timing,” I shrug. “I was busy.”

“Oh,
I know.
”

I glance at my phone to check the time and find a new text from Eliza.

How’s the studying going?

I’ve been here about two hours now and from the looks of it, John’s about to whisk Stephanie off someplace more private. I’ve effectively done what I came here to do. He won’t be mad at me come morning and if I remember Stephanie’s skills, he probably won’t even remember why he was mad to begin with.

I tap out a simple reply.

Good.

There’s no sense in getting into details with her now. “I’m gonna head out,” I say to Grant.

“So soon?”

“I have some studying to do.” I pause at his smiling face. “Hey, Grant… can you maybe not mention to Eliza that I was here?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Was I not supposed to?”

My chest sinks. “What do you mean?”

He flashes me his phone and I read his most recent message to Eliza.

Lover Boy is here. Where you at?

Her reply is brief but it cuts me like glass.

He is?

“When did she send that?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Ten minutes ago.”

Well, shit.

I reach for my phone. Eliza knew I was here when she asked how the studying was going, meaning that my passive, simple, no-details-required reply wasn’t as innocent as I thought. I lied to her and she caught me in it.

“Bye, Grant.”

He waves me away and I push through the crowd of drunken football players and their adoring fans, dodging a few handsy ones of my very own as I go.

I call Eliza as soon as I step outside. After five or six rings, I heave a sigh.
“Pick up, Ellie…”

The phone vibrates with a new text message from her.

I guess that incentive was too easy after all.

I call her again but she doesn’t answer.

“Dammit…”

She thinks she’s not a priority to me but that’s not the case at all. I send a reply.

Meet me at the library.

The last thing I want is for Eliza to think I lied to her. Which, I did, yes, admittedly, but it’s far from what she must be thinking right now. For all she knows, I knew about the party earlier today and just didn’t bother to tell her about it. She thinks I went to it and blew off studying because being the star quarterback is more important to me than acing a math test but it’s not. It’s—