First Down (Beyond the Play #1)

by Grace Reilly

I’ve worked hard for my degree. As Dad constantly reminds us, our athletic careers will only last so long. Even if I have a successful NFL career—which I fully intend—most of my life will take place after I retire.

Without a shot at playing in the league, my life would feel incomplete. End of story. But we’ve been taught that education is important too, so as much as I’m focused on football, I know I need to get my degree. As talented as Cooper is at hockey, Dad didn’t even let him enter the NHL draft because he was afraid that he’d leave college for the league and never graduate. Following Seb’s dad’s wishes, he entered the MLB draft after high school, but in the end, he committed to playing at McKee and re-entering the draft when he’s eligible after junior year.

As I shimmy into the dress in my room—and Laura was totally right, my boobs look amazing—I can’t push away the part of me, however petty, that hopes Darryl is there tonight. Maybe Laura’s right. If he sees me dancing with someone else, he’ll get the message that we’re over. It’s not like anything else I’ve done has worked, even though he’s the one who cheated. As if on cue, my phone screen lights up. Darryl again. I can’t believe that at one point in time I thought this was sweet. Supportive. Now he makes me want to claw my hair out.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles when I realize someone is staring. Fuck, she’s pretty. An angel in white, complete with feathery wings and a golden halo. She’s leaning against the far wall, watching the mob of dancers, a red solo cup dangling from one delicate hand. Her hair, a strawberry blonde, falls in waves around her face, framing big, dark eyes. Her heels make her legs look long and supple. I almost take a step forward, magnetized by the way she’s looking at me, but then I hear my name.

As we squeeze by a large group, a girl sticks a scrap of paper with what must be her number on it into my waistband. Tempting, but the bigger part of me wants to go back to the dance floor, find that little strawberry-blonde angel, and ask her for a dance.

I settle down next to Darryl on the couch. He’s part of the poker game, but he’s not paying attention; he’s grouching about his girlfriend. Or wait—ex-girlfriend?

Uh oh

“I don’t know what things were like around here before me, but on my team, we respect women.”

Hell yea!!

“Fine. Call a girl—any girl—a name like whore or bitch again, and I’ll fuck you up.” He scoffs. “Like you’d fight me.” “I won’t fight you.” I look around at our teammates, who are hanging on every word of this interaction like we’re WWE heavyweights in the spotlight. “But I won’t throw to you.”

Across the room, the front door opens and three guys dressed in black suits walk in. Two of them have dark hair; the third’s is blond. He heads into the party right away, and soon one of the dark-haired ones, the one with the beard and a roguish grin, heads to the dance floor with a girl. That leaves the third guy. The one who has my attention. Unlike the guy I’m assuming is his brother, he doesn’t have a beard. I can’t stop staring at his perfect jawline, the way his thick hair curls over his forehead. He’s tall and obviously built, and the way he looks around . . . it’s like he notices every detail. Including me.

“I knew you’d come back around,” he says. “You’re so pretty, baby. So glad you came tonight for me.” I push his hand away. “I didn’t.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him. The guy from before. He has a frown on his face. He takes a step forward. “I’m here for him, actually.” I don’t know what possesses me, but I shake myself free of Darryl and walk over, reach up to put my arms around this stranger’s neck . . . and kiss him. On the lips. Holy hell, this is a good kiss. Maybe I caught him by surprise, but he’s kissing back, his arms coming around my waist to squeeze me, his warm body pressed right against mine.

Aaaahhhhh! Yes girl!!!!

This one kiss—from a stranger—is better than any kiss I shared with Darryl. He’s ridiculously good at this, kissing like it’s his job. I could happily stay here the whole night, offering my mouth to his. He shifts a little, bending down to murmur against my ear, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Wait,” I hear the guy say at the same time Darryl calls my name. Shit. What the hell did I just do?

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” she says finally. I raise an eyebrow as I take a sip of coffee. “You know already.” “I know because Mackenzie told me, but that’s not the same thing as you telling me.” “You did tell me to get with someone else.” “Not him!” I scrub a hand over my face. “I know it was monumentally stupid. I hope Darryl hasn’t been annoying about it to him.”

Bex and Laura

“You’re blushing.” Laura leans in, delight on her face. “Does that mean he’s a good kisser? He looks like he kisses as a preview to what he’s like during the deed.” “Laura!” I screech. I look around, but fortunately we’re out of earshot of anyone else.

“It’s too bad he’s Darryl’s teammate. Boys tend to have codes about that shit.” “I don’t want him anyway,” I say. My traitorous stomach flops as I think about the kiss again. “I’m not getting involved with anyone right now.” “So, if he came up to you and asked you on a date, you’d say no?” “Like he would.” “You kissed him and ditched him. Guys like the chase.”

Someone drops into the seat next to mine. I suppress a snort. Poor baby freshman. I’d bet five bucks it was an alarm malfunction. Whoever it is, they smell really good. A bit like pine. I look up, and my heart does a little surprised flop in my chest. “Hey,” says James freakin’ Callahan. “Got an extra copy of that?”

“Jesus. Cooper, I’m not going to be late for the first meeting of this stupid-ass class!” The door flings open, revealing my brother, who looks about ready to skin me alive. His eye is actually twitching. I give him a grin and say sweetly, “There’s Sleeping Beauty.” “I hate you.” “You love me. I don’t know how you’ve survived college without me.” “He barely has,” Seb pipes up, which causes Coop to give him a death glare. He looks like he’s considering violence, so I step between them swiftly. Seb might’ve been adopted after his parents passed when he was eleven, but he and Coop act like honest-to-god twins. Which means a lot of hitting. “You have five minutes,” I tell him. “I’m waiting in the car.” When Coop retreats to his room, Seb doubles over in laughter, shaking water droplets everywhere. “Hate living with us yet?” “Nah, you know I love you both. I missed you when I was down in Louisiana.”

I sneak to the back, where a girl sits alone, head bent over what must be the syllabus. When I’m about a foot from her, I freeze. That’s her. Little Miss Angel. Fucking kissed me better than anyone in my life and then left like we hadn’t just sparked like lightning. Not to mention she’s Darryl’s ex. The very one I told him to treat with respect, oh, an hour before she kissed me. After she fled the party, Darryl got in my face about the kiss, but fortunately he believed me when I said I didn’t know who the hell she was. I still don’t, really, just that her name is Beckett, she’s drop-dead gorgeous, and she kisses like the world is burning down around her. Oh, and she’s off-limits.

“What are you even doing here?” I whisper. She taps her foot against mine under the table. “I’m wondering that about you.” “I failed this class when I first took it.” I don’t know what compels me to be totally honest with her. Maybe it’s her big brown eyes or the way she’s twirling a little sparkly gel pen or how I can’t stop remembering how her lips felt on mine. I shove that thought away. She’s my teammate’s ex. Even if she was interested, I couldn’t. “I transferred here last year,” she murmurs. “Even though I took classes like this at my community college, they didn’t accept all my credits.” “That sucks.”

I give her what I hope is a semi-normal smile and settle in for the rest of class. But despite my best efforts, I can’t stop stealing glances at her. She looks just as pretty now as she did fancied up in that little white dress. My type, too; those full tits are distracting even in a T-shirt. Did she choose me to kiss because I’m her type as well? I’m not dumb, I know she kissed me to get back at Darryl. But she could’ve approached any guy at that party, and I’m the one she landed on. She bites her lip as she thinks. That’s cute.

“If you’re stuck, try reading the topic sentences first,” Bex says. I glance over at her. She taps my paper with her pen. “Look,” she says. “There are a couple of sections in the article, and each of them covers a different topic.” “But then it just talks about something else,” I say. “Not quite,” she says. “I know it seems like it, because it starts out talking about research into academic writing and then switches into an anecdote, but that’s just to humanize the topic a little. It’s not important information.”

She takes me through the article, showing me her own annotations as examples for what to focus on. I can’t help but be a little distracted by the way she smells and how much I’m yearning to lean in closer, but in the end, I have a halfway decent paragraph to hand in. Something about the way she explained it made way more sense than in the past, which is weird, considering I’ve always had such a block when it comes to writing. If she was the professor, I’d probably get an A in this class.

I thought he was attractive at the party, all dressed up in a black suit, but this is somehow better. He’s wearing a tank top that shows off his drool-worthy shoulders, athletic shorts, and sandals, and I have no idea why it’s working so well for me, but it is. The irrational part of my brain is chanting, “Lick him!”

He looks back at me, frustration in the set of his jaw. “What?” “It’s this way.” I point in the opposite direction and start fast-walking. “And you can walk with me, but only because I have a feeling you’re going to make this conversation happen one way or another.” He jogs to catch up to me. “What makes you think that?” I look up at him. “We kissed.” “We did,” he agrees. He lowers his voice. “It was a good kiss.” “I’m sorry I did it,” I blurt as my cheeks heat up. “Darryl—” I stop walking abruptly and bump into him. He steadies me, his big hands on my shoulders, and for a hot second they feel like a brand going straight between my legs. What’s with this guy? My body loves when he’s close. The entire time I helped him with that assignment, I wanted to lean my head on his shoulder.

He hooks his finger under my chin and tilts up my head. My hands flutter around him for half a second before finding their way to his sides, resting lightly.

“Hey,” he says, still holding me in place. I’m frozen, looking up at him, torn between pulling away and staying put. “Don’t worry about it. I know a jealousy kiss when I see one.” “I didn’t realize you were his teammate.” He just shrugs. “Like I said, don’t worry about it. We talked; we’re cool.” “Oh. Good.” I stop and pull away, giving us a couple feet of distance. “Um. Even besides that, we can’t.” “I know,” he says easily. “But I did want to talk about something else.” His lack of a fight hurts, which is stupid, because I just told him to back off. It would never work. Even if we just hooked up, that would make things more awkward for him and Darryl, and I’m still firmly in no-relationship land. I don’t know him, but the intensity he radiates practically screams that he doesn’t do anything halfway.

“Because a girl like you deserves more than I can give, Bex.” I risk a step closer in his direction. Angle my chin up as I look at him. “How do you know what kind of girl I am? We barely know each other.” “I saw how you looked after we kissed. Trust me, you’re a relationship girl.”

“And you don’t do relationships?” “I don’t do anything but football.” His hand curls and uncurls on the strap of his backpack. “Let’s just move on, okay?” “Fine,” I say as we continue walking. I make sure there’s a few feet between us, so I don’t do something idiotic like try and kiss him again.

“What did you want to ask me?” “Thanks again for helping me out in class.” He runs a hand through his hair, ducking his head. “Um . . . you know I failed the class the first time.” “Yeah.” “I really can’t fail it this time. I need it to graduate, and it’s only a fall class.” I sigh. “Yeah. I think that’s shitty of them since they’re so strict about it.”

He scuffs the pavement with his shoe. “I’ll pay you for your time, of course.” “I have a full course load too. Six classes. Plus my job.” And running home whenever the diner needs help, I think but don’t say aloud. There’s always something wrong at Abby’s Place and it’s never my mother who can fix it. “There’s nothing I can offer to convince you?” “Nope.” He raises his eyebrows. “Everyone has a price.” “Everyone but me, apparently.”

“Sorry, I need to go.” “I’ll figure it out,” he calls when I’m almost up the next hill. I look over my shoulder at him. He has a smile on his face, but there’s something else in his eyes. A challenge. I’m suddenly aware of one very important fact: he’s an athlete. And athletes don’t quit. “Oh yeah?” “Whatever your price is,” he says, taking a deliberate stride forward, “I’ll figure it out, Bex.”

Since that party, I’ve seen Darryl entirely too much and Bex entirely too little. Despite us clearing up the kiss situation, it’s never been more obvious that a guy hates my guts. On the field, he plays his hardest, but in the huddle, on the sideline, and in the locker room, he acts like I don’t exist. After our win against West Virginia this past Saturday, in which he caught two of my touchdowns, I thought he’d chill out, but nope. You’d think he caught us fucking on top of the pool table, not kissing once when it was clear I didn’t even know who she was.

“Great catch,” I say when Darryl finally reaches us. He chews on his mouth guard. “Thanks.” Okay then.

From across the huddle, Darryl gives me a look. I meet it stone-cold, but inside, I’m rolling my eyes. I don’t care if he hates me as long as he leaves Bex alone, but that doesn’t mean it’s not annoying. Most of the team heads back into the showers, but I stay put. So does Darryl. “You got something to say to me?” I ask. I cross my arms over my chest.

Darryl digs at the grass with the toe of his cleat. “Heard you’ve been talking to her.” “Says who?” “Is it true?” “I don’t see how it’s your business.” “She’s my girl.” “Was your girl. And she can text whomever she wants, especially when it’s about a class she’s taking with someone.” He takes a slow step forward. “But you want her.” “Hey,” Coach Gomez barks. “What’re you still doing out here?” I reply without taking my gaze off Darryl. “Just talking strategy, Coach.”

I haven’t known Coach Gomez very long, but I figured out quick that he likes to know about personnel problems on his team. He’s serious, too, still nearly as fit as when he was a player and a straight talker. The silvery strands in his otherwise dark hair glint in the late afternoon light as he waits for my response. “No. There was a little miscommunication, but I’m handling it.” He nods. “What kind of miscommunication?” Damnit, I’d been hoping to leave it at that. He’ll smell bullshit for sure if I try to lie. “A girl.” Embarrassment burns my throat at the admission.

Coach curses. “Callahan—” “It’s handled.” “That so?” “Yes.” He gives me a look that feels like an X-ray. “When we agreed to bring you here, we spoke about distractions. You remember that?” “Of course.” He leans in, knocking his fist against my chest twice. “Son, you’re going to be a star in the league. And I want to help you get there. But remember—save the off-field distractions for after you’ve signed your first big contract. Once your future is set, you can start to think about who will be in it.” “Yes, sir,” I say with a nod.

I hadn’t been lying to Bex when I said the only relationship in my life was football. Last time I tried to balance both, I nearly lost everything. I don’t think much about Sara anymore, but lately, she’s come up more than I’m comfortable admitting.

“Shame that Rich Callahan has three sons, but only one chose the right sport.” He chuckles a bit, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “And how are the classes? What about that writing one? Still sorry I couldn’t get you out of it.” “It’s okay. I failed it the first time, I deserve to take it again.” I run a hand over my sweaty hair. “It’s fine.” “You sure? Any help I can give you?”

“I, um, hired a tutor and everything.” His face relaxes. “Good. Who is it? Someone from the media center? TA?” “She’s in my class. She took it already and did well, at her old school, but McKee didn’t accept the credit.” He shakes his head. “This academic policy, I swear. Well, happy to hear it, son. Let’s keep your eyes on the prize. No distractions.” “No distractions,” I repeat. “Got it, sir.”

As I’m fetching the coffees, the door opens again. I look up automatically . . . and immediately wish I hadn’t. “What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss as I meet Darryl at the door. He leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “What a way to greet me, babe.” I back up two big steps. My hands are trembling, so I shove them into my apron’s pockets, hoping my glare helps him get the goddamn message. “Babe? I’m not your babe anymore, Darryl. What’s going on?”

I sense the moment Mom walks into the diner. She smells like smoke and flowery perfume. When I arrived early this morning to open, she was still asleep. I’d been hoping against hope she’d just stay upstairs for the day so that we wouldn’t have to talk, but she’s always had impeccable timing. “Darryl!” she says warmly, pulling him into a hug. “I thought I saw your car out front. Bexy hasn’t brought you home in ages.” “That’s because we’re not dating anymore.” She tuts at me. “Don’t be rude to the nice boy. He drove all this way on game day just to see you, isn’t that sweet?” “I have tables.” I put the coffees on a tray along with cream and sugar and head over to the couple. Maybe if I keep ignoring Darryl, he’ll get the message and go away.

“Sorry for the wait,” I tell the couple. “What can I get you?” “Is that your boyfriend?” the woman says, leaning in with a conspiratorial smile. “He’s handsome.” “He’s familiar,” the man says. “McKee?” “Football,” I admit. “Hey, man! Kill it today!”

In the kitchen, I hand the ticket to Tony, the head cook. He peers around me, a worried look on his lined face. “Do I need to get him out of here for you?” “Nah.” I give him a smile. “Thanks, though. I can handle it.” “Damn straight you can.” He barks out the order to the line cooks. I stand there for a long moment, just watching them move around the cramped kitchen with fluidity. Darryl obviously took the kiss as flirtation, not a goodbye.

Darryl doesn’t protest when I drag him around to the back of the building. “You look pretty playing waitress, baby.” “I’m not playing,” I mutter. “That’s the reason you cheated on me, remember? I was always here.” “Those girls didn’t mean shit to me.” “So? That doesn’t make it not cheating.” “Says who?” “Says me!” I burst out.

Eww

“Sweetheart, come on. I don’t know what you were playing at, kissing Callahan, but he told me he’s not interested in you, so there’s no problem. We can go back to the way things were.” He told Darryl he’s not interested? That stings more than it should. “You talked about me?” He drags me even closer. “Sure we did. I had to know if I needed to fight him for making a move on my girl, after all.” He slides his hand up, circling my wrist, and does the same with my other arm too. I freeze.

Double eww

“Darryl,” I whisper. “Yeah, baby?” “Fuck off.” I yank myself out of his grip, rubbing my wrists, and shove past him. “Go play your game. And if you bother me again, especially here, I’ll call the cops.”

He steps so close my heart jumps into my throat, a flat look in his eyes I absolutely hate to see, and pulls me in again, his fingers gripping my wrists so tightly I cry out. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that, sweetheart.” I swallow hard, trying to ignore the burning of my eyes.

Two things are clear. One, I can’t believe I ever had feelings for that asshole. And two, I need a new plan, because obviously he’s not going away. I need James.

“Maybe she wants you to hook up with her,” Coop muses. “As payment, I mean.” I think back to our conversation after that first class. I pretty much stomped on any chances of that happening. “Dude, I’m not going to sleep with my tutor.” “What? She’s hot.” “And my teammate’s ex.” Coop waves his hand. “Doesn’t count because they broke up before you got here.” “I’m sure he wouldn’t see it that way.” “Well, he’s an idiot anyway.”