Sidelined: A Sports Romance (4 page)

I
heard
my alarm go off and slapped the bedside table. Shit. I felt exhausted. My body was sore and I got two hours of sleep. I rolled over, ready to pull Natalia to my chest. I could let the rule slip for another couple of hours. It was still technically not the season. Not yet. Kick off wasn’t until eight-thirty.

Last night had been fucking incredible. Nirvana, even. It was the most epic one-night stand of my life. And in my gut, I wanted more. My cock twitched, thinking of taking her again. I wanted to taste her, feel her, and kiss her until the last second. I rolled toward the wall, but the covers were flat.

I sat forward. Her clothes were gone. Her purse was gone. The bathroom door was wide open.

I closed my eyes. Shit. She wasn’t here. I didn’t have her last name or her number. I didn’t know where she worked or what she did. What I did know was that she had done something to me, when I didn’t think that was possible. One-night stands didn’t affect me. They never had. And I’d have to make sure this one didn’t either.

I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms and let out a deep breath. I knew nights like last night didn’t just happen. Two people didn’t move together like we did. Do the things we did to each other. But I needed to file it in my memory bank and put a lock on it.

I stood from the bed and stretched my arms toward the ceiling. I needed to shower. The team would meet for breakfast in forty-five minutes, and then Coach would call a meeting to review the protocol for heading over to the Warriors’ dilapidated stadium. That place was a shit hole and we all knew it. Not only did we hate our rivals, we pitied them.

I pulled a T-shirt over my wet hair and the fabric clung to my chest. I stepped into a pair of jeans. Team meetings were casual. We wouldn’t have to dress up until it was time to ride over to the stadium. I stuffed my cell phone into my pocket and walked down the hall. It was hard not to picture Natalia next to the room door. I shook my head. Fuck no. I wasn’t going to do this.

I arrived at the elevator and waited for it. I told myself I wasn’t going to relive that kiss inside its walls. I wouldn’t remember how Natalia clung to me. What her ass felt like. How tight her long body was under my hands.

The doors retracted.

“Sam,” Cavan Grainger greeted me.

Thank God there was someone else in the elevator. I already needed a distraction from my own brain. I didn’t care if we talked about the fucking weather. He could say anything at this point.

“How’s it going?” I didn’t know Cavan well. He was on the rookie roster. He had been nominated to take my place this year as the coordinator of the Dean.

“Ready for tonight?” he asked.

I nodded. “Couldn’t be more ready. What about you? First time on Monday night. Big game too.”

He shrugged. “Trying not to think about that part.”

“Yeah, focus on the plays. That’s all anybody needs to do.”

The elevator deposited us in the lobby. We walked to the conference room together. I left Cavan to search for coffee before taking a seat. Only half of the team was here. They would slowly trickle down from their rooms. I hated to think how many were hung over, and how that was going to affect the game.

I didn’t have that kind of hangover. No, mine was worse. There wasn’t enough water or aspirin to get rid of the way I felt when I was with Natalia.

T
he yoga outfit
wasn’t bad. At least I wasn’t walking home in a black dress. This walk of shame looked as if I had gone for an early exercise class. No shame in that.

I had lifted Sam’s heavy arm and slid to the floor, dressing in the darkness of the room. I didn’t want to wake him. I was worried he would go back on what we agreed in the bar. I didn’t want him to call or know where I lived. I definitely didn’t want to tell him I was a professional cheerleader.

It was better this way. I’d pretend he was in town on business and would never be back in Austin. It would be easier. I didn’t have his number, either. We made an agreement, and my leaving before he awakened was the only way I knew how to stick to it.

Because if I woke up in his arms and took one look in his gorgeous eyes, I’d undo all of it.

I’d program my number in his phone. I’d tell him my horrid history with the ballet and the Goddesses. I’d tell him I loved pasta even though I shouldn’t. That I loved scary movies and hated football. I’d tell him my last name or even my middle name. If I had stayed and looked in those eyes, I’d have told him anything he asked.

Last night I had given him something I’d never given to another man. There wasn’t a name for it. It was physical and primal, but it was deeper than any connection I’d ever felt. It was the reason I had to leave. It was the reason I snuck out. It was the reason I was questioning every step I made on the sidewalk.

For a little while, I knew where he was. He was in the Austin Grand Hotel in room 621. But I didn’t know when he was checking out or where he was going. I had to drive home and stay there until I knew for certain it was past check-out time. I had to force myself to put the key in the ignition and drive home. Because if I didn’t, I’d race back to the hotel and break the promise I made. And as much as I wanted to see Sam again, I didn’t want to break a promise to him. It was the main thing holding me back. Right now, it was the only reason my foot was on the gas pedal.

* * *

I
didn’t wear a watch
. Instead, I checked my phone a hundred times before noon. I did a load of laundry and completed an hour’s worth of stretching. I would do the entire routine again before the game, but I had to find something to do to keep my mind off last night.

I jumped when I heard my phone ring, and for a quick second, let myself think it was Sam calling. I scowled at myself. It was Heather.

“Hey, girl.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

She laughed. “I saw you leave last night. Just checking on you.” I knew she wanted a juicy story.

I ran water in the sink to rinse out my bowl from breakfast. “How about you? Looked like you were having fun.”

The truth was I hadn’t paid attention to what Heather was doing. I spent my time talking to Sam and making a stupid decision. I wasn’t a very good friend.

“Oh my God, we had the best time. Aren’t you glad you went?”

“Yes.” I threw my bowl in the dishwasher. “Now I don’t have any guilt about that tradition.”

“You’re turning into a real Goddess. You know that?”

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned.

Last night, I was like all the other girls. I went home with a random bar guy. True, he was an incredibly hot random guy, but I had let the environment and the neon lights influence me. I convinced myself I was being rebellious and free, but when I thought about it, I was the same as my squad partners.

I hooked up in a bar. I had a one-night stand with someone I had barely known an hour.

It didn’t help that he had a rock-hard body, sexy voice, and eyes that…

“Nat? Did you hear me?”

“Oh, what? Sorry, I’m doing dishes.” I slammed the door shut and started the wash cycle.

“I asked you what time you’re going to be at the stadium for warm up. I thought we could run through some new steps. I talked to the choreographer about it.”

“Oh, that.” I sighed. “I guess I’ll get there at five. I need to do some extra work on my hamstring.”

“Is it giving you problems again?”

“The same. It’s better if I keep it warmed up. Less chance of reinjuring it.”

Heather was the only one who bothered to ask about my leg. She was also the only one who knew the extent of my injury. I didn’t want the others to think I wasn’t physically capable of being a Goddess.

“I’m glad it’s not worse.”

I smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “Thanks. Me too. Listen, I’ve gotta run. I have a lot to do before I head to the game.”

“All right. See you tonight. But I’m getting details when I see you. You’re not getting out of this that easily. I know your avoidance tactics.”

“Heather, there’s nothing to tell. I’ll see you there.”

I hung up and looked at the clock again. Finally. It was after noon and I could convince myself Sam was gone. He had driven out of town—back to wherever he came from.

I felt the exhaustion hit my body. I had barely slept. My limbs were sore in new places. And with the realization that he wasn’t in Austin anymore, the tension I held in my shoulders and neck rolled off my skin.

I pulled back my white duvet and climbed under the covers. I had been running on fumes. Forcing myself to push through until I knew it was noon. As soon as my head hit the pillow and my eyes closed, I slept.

I
sat on the bench
, gripping my helmet between my hands. I stared at my cleats on the dirty floor. We had been in some god-awful locker rooms, and some that would make even us jealous, but the Warriors’ guest locker rooms had to be the worst. There was peeling paint. Chipped tiles in the showers. Half the lockers didn’t close. It was disgraceful to the league. I didn’t know how they got away with it.

Some teams liked to show off their wealth. The Warriors’ ownership didn’t buy into that philosophy. They kept the money for themselves and let everything else fall down around the team.

I felt his heavy hand on my back before I heard his voice. I turned. “Ready?”

Wes was grinning. He loved this shit. His hatred for the Warriors ran deep.

I nodded. “Hell, yeah. Throw the ball to me every time and I’ll get it done.”

“What’s that?” Stubbs yelled from the other side of the junk pit.

“I said I’ll get the TDs this game.”

“Like hell you will.” The wide receiver strutted over. “I’ll take a few myself.”

“Come on, boys,” Wes chuckled. “We can split them. Stubbs, you take four, and Sam, you take another four.”

We laughed. The Wranglers had come here not only to win, but also to annihilate our enemy. We weren’t walking out of here with anything less than a complete and totally humiliating victory.

Right now, none of us were thinking about the cameras or the hype around the opening game for Monday night. We were defending national champions, and this game would prove that we were on our way to becoming repeat champions. We would rightfully claim the title of Texas’s team. The country’s team. It all came down to this game.

I pulled the laces on my shoes, making sure they were extra tight. I liked the feeling across my feet.

Coach Howell walked in the locker room. “Listen up.”

Our mumbling stopped, and we focused on his pre-game speech. I could predict what he would say. It was seldom different game to game.

“Guys, we came here for one thing—to win. It’s opening night. Everyone is watching to see if we can do what we did last season. They’re watching Wes. They’re watching Stubbs. They want to see if Sam can catch the ball. They want to know how many yards Persons can get against their defense. They want to see Grainger’s first game. And all the rest of you… they’re watching. Was it a fluke? Was it luck?

“Well, we know the answer to that. This is a room full of champions.” He paused for a second. “And we’re going to take this game back to San Antonio.”

We all nodded in agreement.

“Bring it in,” he yelled.

I lifted my helmet in the air with everyone else. We could hear the fans through the tunnel. They were screaming and chanting. They would boo when we took the field. They’d throw stuff at our helmets. They’d tell us to fuck off. But it was noise.

The points on the scoreboard would shut them up, and that would make all this shit worth it.

I bowed my head as the Coach led a Wranglers’ prayer.

As soon as Howell said amen, we clapped in unison and filed out of the locker room. I shoved my helmet on my head, ready to take the field. I didn’t care what the fans did or shouted. We were going to win this game. And I’d catch every fucking pass Wes threw my direction to shut them up.

It was everything we expected. The announcer called for the Wranglers, and as we stormed onto the field, the jeers were deafening. It only fueled our hatred. They thought they were getting in our heads, but they were feeding our determination to win.

We waited on the away sideline while the Warriors ran out of their tunnel. The fans cheered. There was a burst of fireworks overhead. Everything was a production. It didn’t feel like a football game. It felt like a circus.

There were cameras everywhere. Someone shoved a mic in Coach’s face before kickoff. I didn’t know how he handled it.

The Wranglers won the coin toss and opted for us to receive first. I jogged in place, knowing as soon as the special teams were off the field, I’d be on it. I looked toward the booth where Ross, our offensive coordinator, was assessing the defensive. I took my cues from Wes, but sometimes I could tell from Ross’s stance whether or not we had a problem. He looked relaxed from my angle.

The whistle blew and we had the ball on our own thirty-five yard line. It wasn’t a bad place to start. Plenty of room for me to run was how I looked at it.

I jogged onto the field and waited for Wes to call the play. The adrenaline was coursing through me. For a flash of a second I thought about last night. How the adrenaline felt with Natalia. Fuck. I shook my head. The lights blazed in the sky. The camera hovered overhead. The crowd was cheering so loudly I could barely hear Wes’s deep voice.

This was it. The first snap of the season. It was everything we had prepared for. Everything we had wanted. It all started with this first play.

I wiggled my fingers in anticipation. I rocked forward, ready to sprint to my open spot on the field. I expected coverage, but I could get open.

The ball was snapped and I took off on my route. I pivoted, and the ball hit me square in the chest. I ran, avoiding one defender and then another. I crossed the fifty-yard line and made it another five yards before the Warriors’ safety took me to the ground.

“Fuck yeah,” he hollered in my ear.

I jumped up from the ground, brushing the grass off my jersey. “Twenty yards,” I taunted.

He thought he had accomplished something, but we were in their territory and no one had stopped me until I crossed mid-field.

Wes called out the next play and I knew I was blocking this time. I wanted the ball, but I was a hybrid player, meant to throw the defense off. My size gave me the ability to block and my athleticism made me a hell of a receiver.

He handed the ball off to Persons, who took us another fifteen yards down the field. I could smell seven points. We were close.

We lined up on the thirty-yard hash mark. The fans were furious. They felt it too. The energy we possessed was electric. The Wranglers were going straight for the end zone.

This time, Wes threw to Stubbs, who caught the ball just inside the twenty.

I looked at the quarterback and read the signal. We weren’t going to run. No more blocking for me. I was headed straight for the goal line this time.

My heart beat hard, but my hands were steady. I wiggled my fingers and tipped upward, ready to run. I skirted around a lineman and darted across the line. It was a blur. I turned to catch the ball, knowing Wes would find me, but I saw a pair of eyes. Eyes that had pulled me into a deep undertow last night.

I whipped around just in time for the ball to hit me. My fingertips scrambled to hold on to the ball, but I clung to it, bringing it to my chest as the cornerback pounded me to the ground. The ground was solid on my back, but I managed to keep the ball on my chest the entire time. I opened my eyes, rolling to my side to stand when I looked toward the back of the end zone. It wasn’t possible. I forgot I was lying on the ground in front of thousands of angry fans. All I could see was her. There were at least ten yards between us, but I’d memorized every inch of her—there was no mistaking those lips or that body.

What in the hell was she doing here? Why was Natalia staring down at me? And why the fuck was she dressed in a damn Goddess uniform?

Stubbs pulled me from the ground, shaking me from the fog. “Hell yeah, brother.” He smacked my helmet, but my feet were rooted in the grass.

Wes slapped my back, but I felt as if I was in the Twilight Zone, not the end zone. “First TD of the season. That’s how we get it done.”

She stared at me, both of us searching each other’s eyes for answers, but the guys pushed me out of the way so the field goal team could set up for the point after.

I walked sixty yards away from her, trying to figure out what in the hell I was going to do now.