Consumed: A MMA Sports Romance (39 page)

The score ebbed and flowed, the two teams
moving back and forth across the field. It was—even without my personal
interest—a thrilling game. I could only imagine how much more exciting and
stressful it was for the people who were actually invested in our team and with
going to the bowl games in a few weeks. I told myself over and over again that
from my perspective it didn’t matter whether we won or not, it would be just as
newsworthy and I had lots of ways to cover it for the paper. In fact, a loss
might be an interesting thing to interview Zack about afterward. But deep down,
I knew that I would feel bad for Zack if the team lost the game; he’d catch all
the blame for it if they did, and even if he’d been a jerk to me, he didn’t
deserve the whole school’s hate.

At one point the other team was
ahead—heading into the final quarter, everyone was tightening down, alternating
between tense quiet and uproarious cheers. We could still make a comeback. We
could still scrape up a win. My heart was pounding in my chest as I watched,
both spectator and reporter. If Zack lost, he would be crushed and no one would
let him live it down; even though we would still qualify for a bowl game, it
wouldn’t be the most prestigious one. I was wringing my hands as I watched us
even the score, and then everyone in the stands—on both sides—was quiet for the
last play. I made myself remember to breathe as I watched, my stomach churning.

In the end we managed—in a Hail Mary—to
get the last score in right as the clock was ticking down to zero. Our side of
the stadium erupted in cheers so loud I had to cover my ears and crouch down in
my seat to try and avoid being completely deafened by them. I watched as the
other side of the stadium seemed to deflate, everyone sort of crumbling in on
themselves. Since they were still the number two team, they would get to go to
a bowl game—but we were on our way to the most prestigious one. We had one
final game in the season, but we’d secured our position as the number one team
in our division.

At first, it seemed like no one in our
side of the stadium wanted to leave; the band was playing their hearts out,
everyone was singing and cheering. Then, all at once, the crowd started to
dissipate. After all, there would be a raging party to celebrate such a huge
win—nobody wanted to miss out on what the frats and sororities would put up for
the occasion. I told Jess I would meet her back at the dorm; she wanted to go
out, but I knew the parties would last until almost dawn, that she’d have
plenty of people to choose from once she arrived. I didn’t intend to stay at
the stadium for very long. I would ask Zack the questions I’d written out and
get his answers recorded and then I would go home and relax for the rest of the
night.

The team was still on the field, still
shouting and cheering, as I made my way down from the stands. Professor Grant
had given me an ID and Press pass for the campus newspaper, so no one blocked
me on my way to the sidelines where everyone was milling around, clapping Zack
on the back. One of the defensive linemen grabbed him by one leg and another
took him by the other and they lifted him up in the air on their shoulders.

“We good….We good…” the team was chanting,
jumping up and down.

I approached the coach, who was off to the
side, watching the antics of the players. “Hi,” I said, waving my hand slightly
to catch his eye. He turned and looked at me, for a moment scowling—until he
saw my press pass. “I’m from the campus newspaper; I am supposed to be
interviewing Zack about the game.” I tried to keep my voice level—even as I had
to shout—in spite of how anxious I felt.

“Zack! Get over here. Interview time.” The
linemen put Zack back onto the ground and he loped over, grinning until he
caught sight of me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he
asked, his voice barely below a shout.

“I’m not happy about it either, but I was
assigned to interview you, so here I am.”

Zack rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said,
raising his voice so the whole team could hear him, “Just because we had sex a
while back doesn’t mean you can stalk me.”

“I’m not stalking you,” I said firmly,
even as my cheeks burned with a blush. “I told you why I’m here. If it weren’t
for the stupid newspaper assignment I wouldn’t have watched the game at all. I
don’t give a good Goddamn about you.”

“Oh, is that why you dumped a tray of food
over my head?” He didn’t shout that part—and in his deep scowl I could see he
was still angry about it; almost as angry as I had been when I’d done it.

“I dumped a tray of food over your head
because you were being an asshole.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Look.
Just answer the questions and let’s get this over with.”

The coach let out a sharp whistle.
“Everyone but Zack—hit the showers!”

The team started to file towards the
entrance into the lockers, and I waited until they passed. Zack was obviously
irritated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking around with
a hardness in his eyes in spite of the ready grin on his lips at the praise
from his passing teammates.

I took my recorder out of my purse. I was
going to get this over with. “I want to record this so that I can make sure
that I quote you accurately, is that okay?”

Zack sneered. “Are you sure you don’t want
to record it so you can do something weird with it? Let me see your press pass.
Is it even real?”

I took a deep breath. I wasn’t about to
let him get me angry.

“Here’s my press pass. Look, Zack, let’s
just get this over with, please? I don’t want to deal with this any more than
you do.”

“Let me see your questions.” I begrudgingly
handed him my notebook with the questions I had already thought up. “Nope, not
answering that one. Not answering that one. This one’s good, but not answering
it either.”

I closed my eyes and took another deep
breath. “Zack, you’re acting like a child.”

“Zack, you’re acting like a child,” he
parroted back, pitching his voice high. “Jesus, Evie, you’re always so
serious.”

“You’re the one who was just yelling at me
in front of your teammates over something that happened days ago!”

I nearly threw my press pass on the
ground, my frustration mounting every moment. Zack’s dark eyes glinted with
amusement and I got hold of myself, clenching my teeth and taking a deep breath
until I could calm down.

“You’re kind of cute when you get angry,
you know,” Zack said, grinning at me unabashedly. “Of course, it’s less cute
when you ruin a perfectly good meal and a perfectly good outfit.”

I took another deep breath and snatched my
notebook from his hands. “Okay.” I smacked the notebook against my leg a few
times, speaking slowly and carefully, barely keeping my frustration under
control. “What is it going to take for you to answer the freaking questions?”

Zack looked at me for a long moment and I
thought—for a heartbeat or two—that he might actually relent and treat me like
a regular person.

“I will answer your questions and give you
a great interview on one condition.”

I pressed my lips together. If he demanded
that I have sex with him again I was going to refuse, and I would find some way
to make it okay that I didn’t get the interview. Or maybe, if he demanded it
crudely enough, I would find whatever gaps I could in his pads and hammer at
them with my fists until he relented.

“What condition is that?” Zack’s eyes were
glittering in the stadium lights as he smiled.

“You have to let me take you on one date.”

The demand startled me. I had expected
that he’d ask me to have sex with him, or tell me I had to do something
humiliating, or something like that. Even that he’d ask about Jess and hook him
up with her. I hadn’t expected anything like a date. I didn’t want to go on a
date with Zack; if there was anything I could possibly want less than to have
sex with him again, it was the idea of going on an actual date with him. I’d
been angry at him in the back of my mind ever since I’d stormed out of the
dining hall.

Still, I knew that I absolutely had to get
the interview. I needed to turn in the best possible article for my first
assignment, and even as angry as I had been before, I knew there was no option
if I couldn’t somehow manage to get Zack to talk. If I turned in an article
about the game that included “
Quarterback
Zack was unavailable for commen
t,” I would be tossed from the newspaper
before the edition even came out.

“Fine,” I said, holding out my hand to
shake his. Zack was still grinning as he shook my hand to seal the deal.

I half-expected him to continue messing
with me throughout the interview; certainly, his idea of an effective way to
get a girl to go on a date with him left a lot to be desired. How could I have
ever liked him, I wondered? But instead of continuing to make my life
miserable, Zack led me over to the bench and told me to sit down. He recorded
his acceptance of the fact that I was recording his answers, and we got into
the interview immediately. He answered completely, giving me details and
insight into the team that I wouldn’t have even imagined I could get. He told
me about the fact that they’d been practicing with this game in mind most of
the season, that they knew that the other team was their steepest competition
within the conference, and that they knew that even with all their planning it
was good odds that that might not win.

“We want to finish the season undefeated.
I mean, all teams do, but we’ve only got one more game in the season left. So
we’re going to be working hard to make that happen. An undefeated season…kind
of a big deal.”

By the time Zack was called back to the
lockers to clean up and head out, I had finally regained some of my composure.
I managed to thank him, and shook his hand again. “Remember,” he said, raising
an eyebrow.

I nodded. I hated the idea of going on a
date with him, but I would keep my word.

CHAPTER
FIVE

The next day I sat at my desk in my room,
trying to listen to the recording of the interview I’d done with Zack without
paying any attention to the fact that it was him. I wanted to transcribe the
contents of the digital tape and then insert the quotes I needed into the
article I was already writing. My email pinged, and I switched out of my word
processor. It was from Lisa.

As
I’m sure some of you are feverishly working on your articles last minute,
the email read,
I’m sure you’ll all be
very glad to know that due to some issues at the printer, we won’t be able to
send the paper to the presses until Tuesday, so you all have until Monday
evening at 6 to get your articles in.

It was a relief to know that if I got too
tired working on it, I could just go to bed and finish before my morning
classes; but I was determined to at least get the interview transcribed.

Just when I was getting into my groove
again, my phone buzzed. “Oh God, what now?”

I looked at the screen as it lit up—it as
a text message from Zack. Maybe, I thought with a little bit of hope, he was
texting me to cancel. The date had seemed like a silly idea anyway; it was just
sex, there was no reason for him to ask me out—or to demand I go out with him
as the price of giving me the interview I needed. I opened up the message.

Hey…get
ready to come downstairs. I’m on my way. You promised me a date.

I was nearly done with the article; I had
gotten all but the last few quotes transcribed.

Where
are we going?

I looked in dismay at my outfit. I knew
that Jess would tell me it was the exact wrong thing to wear in a situation
like this—but she was off somewhere on her own date. I hadn’t expected that
Zack would claim his date so soon. I couldn’t imagine Zack would take me
anywhere fancy without giving me at least a little bit of notice. My phone
vibrated again.

It’s
a secret. Be downstairs in 15.

I stood up quickly and dashed to my
closet. I changed out of the comfortable, broken-down jeans and tee shirt I had
been wearing and into a skirt and leggings. I kept the shirt—it was one that
I’d had since I’d been in high school, and I thought that it might make it a
bit easier for Zack; that is, if he remembered it. I realized that I really had
no idea of the ways in which Zack had changed since we’d been apart—except for
the fact that he was apparently a much better lay than he had been when we’d
been together.

****

When Zack pulled into the putt-putt golf
course fifteen minutes away from campus, I almost laughed; not because it was
silly—although it was—but because it surprised me that he had even remembered
it. We used to go to one of the other locations for that franchise when we had
been dating in high school.

“Okay,” I said as he chose a parking spot
and switched off the ignition. “I am at least a little bit impressed that you
took the time to remember this.”

“Do you remember how often I beat you?”

I rolled my eyes, smiling in spite of
myself. “You cheated. And when you didn’t cheat, I beat you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” Zack said, getting out
and shooting me another grin.