First Down (Beyond the Play #1)

by Grace Reilly

“I’ll tutor you,” she says. “But only if you agree to pretend to date me.”

“Callahan?” I say. “Did you hear me?” “I heard you.” He looks at me until I’m forced to meet his gaze. “Why?” “Because he won’t leave me alone.” His voice is sharp as he says, “Won’t leave you alone how?” “It’s fine—” “Like hell it’s fine.” The grip on his beer tightens. “Has he been harassing you?” My face feels like it’s on fire. “Not . . . really. He’s just not listening to me. He keeps ignoring what I’m saying, and even what I tried to show him when I . . . when we . . .”

For a terrifying second, I think he’s about to walk away. He’s working his jaw like he wants to bolt. “He’s my teammate.” My stomach sinks. Of course, he wouldn’t want to ruin his relationship with a teammate, even if it’s Darryl. “He said you talked through things.” “And this would take a match to it.” I shake my head. “You’re right. I’m sorry, it was stupid. I’ll see you around.”

But before I get two steps, I feel his hand encircle my sore, bruised wrist, tugging me backward. I can’t help it. I flinch. His gaze is dark as he looks down at where he’s touching me. “Bex—” I shake my head, lips pressed tightly together. Like hell am I admitting aloud that I let Darryl hurt me. “Fuck it. I don’t like the guy anyway.” He drops his hand, shoving both into his pockets. “You really don’t mind tutoring me?” I can tell he wants to press. To ask more about Darryl. But I jump on the topic change gratefully. “This is a deal, right? Quid pro quo. You take me on a few dates he’ll hear about, and I’ll make sure you pass this class.” He nods. “Okay. I can do that.” “You’re not worried about him trying to fight you?” He laughs. “Why would I be afraid? Let him try. I can take him, baby.”

“Baby?” “If we were really dating, we’d use pet names, right?” He leans in, brushing a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Do you prefer something else? Sweetheart? Honey? Sugar?” “Definitely not sugar.” “Princess?” “James . . .” He gives me a half-smile. “There we go.” “Just to be clear, none of this is real.”

“I know,” he says. “Football, remember? But if you want people to buy it, you need to sell it, princess.” I nod. He has football. I have the diner and everything else. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement, like . . . like clownfish and sea anemones.

“You know,” he murmurs, “you can call me anything you want, but I do like the way you say James.” I crowd closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. This kiss is just as heady as the first one, inexplicably addictive. He has some stubble right now, and as we kiss, the friction against my cheeks and jaw makes me shiver.

My legs go around his waist automatically, seeking purchase, and my arms must be tight around his neck, because he laughs and says, “Easy, Bex.”

Then he kisses down my throat, and I freeze. Kissing is one thing. But that’s not just kissing. If he goes any farther, I’m going to soak my panties in this parking lot. I turn my head to the side, shoving at his chest until he puts me down. He complies, but not before dragging his thumb over my lower lip. Fuck. I straighten my sweatshirt as I glare at him. “What was that for?” He shrugs. “You looked like you wanted to be kissed. We need to practice so it’s believable.” “That wasn’t kissing, that was . . .” He grins. “Never been kissed like that?” I hit his chest lightly. “Not outside a bar!”

I would defend you every time someone so much as looked at you the wrong way.”

But I get Bex’s drift; she’s about to tell Laura that we’re not dating for real. “Can I get you ladies something to drink?” I ask. “If you want to drink, princess, I can always drive you home later.” Laura’s jaw drops. “You’re my new favorite person,” she says, looking at the guy standing at her shoulder. “Barry? Take notes, do whatever James does.” Bex shakes her head fondly. “I guess I’ll take a rum and coke, if you don’t mind,” she says. “Lime?” “Of course.” “Me too,” Laura pipes up. “Coming right up.” I head to the bar,

By the time I look over my shoulder, Bex has dragged Laura into the far corner. Hopefully Laura will still like me after she knows the truth. She seems like a firecracker; that Barry guy has his hands full. At the bar I order the drinks and another non-alcoholic beer for myself. I continue to watch her as I lean against the bar to wait. Fuck, she’s pretty. If I had to pretend to date anyone, I’d choose her a hundred times over. Kissing her again, finally, set my skin on fire.

It’s going to be a struggle not to take this thing too far. It’s not like I have any other options, though; I need her help to pass the class. If this is what she wants in exchange for that, I’ll do it, and do it well. Darryl won’t know what hit him, other than the fact Bex has someone in her corner who will fuck up anyone who hurts her. The bartender sets the drinks down at the exact moment I see Bex lift her sleeves, holding out her wrists to Laura. Fuck. She did flinch when I grabbed her wrist. I wasn’t sure if I’d been imagining it. I practically throw some cash down on the bar top, then gather up the drinks. But I’m not in the mood to kick back and relax anymore, knowing Darryl hurt Bex. I shove through the crowd, glad that my size makes it easy. The moment I reach the girls, I say, “How badly?” Bex flicks her gaze up to look at me. “Not too bad. James—” “He fucking hurt you.” “And he won’t again once he knows we’re together. He’s a coward. He talks a big game, but—” I cut her off again; I can’t help it. “He won’t again because I’m about to break his fucking face.” She shakes her head as she reaches out for my hand and squeezes our palms together. “You can’t.” “Watch me.” “Don’t,” Laura says. I turn to her. “No offense, but I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

I grit my teeth. “He hurt her.” “And this wouldn’t be helping her.” “She’s right,” Bex says. “You can’t risk it.” I take a deep breath. Now that the immediate wave of emotion is receding, I feel a little calmer. “You’re right.” I can’t believe how close I came to sending myself right over the edge again. The second I decided Bex was mine—even if it’s just for show—I was ready to throw it all away for her. This is exactly what Coach Gomez warned me against.

Her eyes search mine. “Promise me you’ll leave him alone. Act like everything is normal. Just tell him that it’s not his business who I decide to date. I promise that he’ll get the message.” “You’re sure?” “Yeah.” She leans up, kissing my cheek. “But thank you.” I have no choice but to believe her. “Fine. But let me know if he tries anything.” She takes her drink from the table and sips it. “You know, I think girlfriends usually get introduced to the team.” “You sure? He’s right back there.” She takes my hand and leads me through the crowd. “I know.”

Darryl sets his beer down so hard the table rattles. “Baby, I know what game you’re playing, and you need to cut the shit now.” “No games. I’ve just moved on.” She gives him a grin. “Haven’t you?” He works his jaw, trying to force a smile that doesn’t quite work. “Watch out,” he tells me. “She’ll leave you high and dry, she’s such a —” “A what?” I say pleasantly. “Can’t hear you.”

“Let’s go,” Darryl eventually mutters to a couple of his buddies. One of them—a safety I haven’t interacted with much yet—gives me a sneer as he goes, “Watch it, Callahan. Coach Gomez might’ve gone out of his way to bring you here, but you’re not untouchable.” “Aw,” I say. “Is that your crappy attempt at shit talking? No wonder Notre Dame ran all over you today.”

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to make things even more awkward.” “It’s fine.” “Is it, though?” She’s whispering now, glancing over her shoulder at everyone who stayed. “I can’t fuck up the team for you.” “I already told him that if he disrespected a woman—you included—I’d stop throwing to him. They know that.”

“When?” she asks. “Before I even knew who you were. He was talking shit about you at that party.” Her eyes widen. “Before I kissed you?” Coop and Seb settle into the two other chairs at the table. I raise an eyebrow at them, but they just share a grim glance. “Bro,” Seb says. “What the fuck is going on?”

Pretending to date her has made this class easier and harder all at once. On the one hand, it’s easier, since she’s holding up her end of the deal with tutoring. But on the other hand, it’s way more difficult, since I’m drawn to her like a candle to a box of fucking matches, apparently, and sitting next to her for over an hour while being expected to pay attention to something boring like essay writing is cruel and unusual punishment. I’ve given up fighting my attraction to her. Attraction is fine; it’s safe. So what if I acknowledge she’s gorgeous and I’d love nothing more than to sleep with her? It’s the feelings I need to watch out for. That’s what got me in trouble with Sara.

“Yeah,” she’s saying. “Just tell him I’ll figure out a way to pay for it later. I’ll move some money around.” Her eyes widen adorably as she takes in the surprise I left on her side of the table. Thank you, she mouths as she sits down. I hide my smile as I sip my coffee. “Got you. Yep. Thanks.” She slides her phone into her bag, then takes a sip of coffee. “You know my coffee order?” I shrug. “I just picked up on it.”

“Everything okay?” She groans as she takes out her laptop. “It’s just the diner. Something happened with an appliance, and I need to move money around to pay for the part the repair guy needs.” “That sucks.”

Not for the first time, I’m left wondering why Bex is the one who handles all the headaches of her mother’s business when she’s supposed to be in college. Not to say she’s not capable, because she clearly is, but why does she have to? Doesn’t her mother own it? It doesn’t sound like her dad is in the picture, but good luck talking to her about that. I asked her about her family a few days ago while we were at the campus library for a tutoring session, and she shut down in a way I absolutely hated to see.

I take another slurp as she sets up. With her hips popped forward, her ass sticks out adorably, and the dark skinny jeans she’s wearing make it look extra fantastic. I want to palm the curve, slip my hand into her back pocket, but that’d make her stomp on my foot for sure. Real boyfriends can get away with stuff like that, and that’s not me. I need to remember that, however much fun I’m having.

“Atta girl. Want to do a speed race?” “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you when we’re done,” she says, a glint in her eyes that lets me know she’s serious. I love it. I wasn’t expecting this side of her, but as an athlete in a family of athletes, a competitive spirit is sexy as hell. Anyone looking over right now probably sees the desire in the way I’m looking at her, and I don’t give a damn. It’s good for the image we’re trying to promote, right?

“Let’s bet this time,” she says. “If I win, you cash in your tickets and get me one of those stuffed animals.” I rub her hip, resisting the urge to tuck my hand underneath her tank top. “And if I win?” She pretends to think, tapping her finger against her chin. “I’ll give you a kiss.”

It turns out that even when you’re fake dating, it leads to a lot of texting and hanging out. In the past couple of weeks, James has sent me Snaps of himself at practice, FaceTimed me while his brothers battled it out on Super Smash Bros, and texted me an unfair amount of cute animal videos. He calls the latter “happiness hits,” which is more adorable than it has any right to be. Last week we went to an arcade together, where I totally owned his ass in Pac-Man, and he’s developed a habit of showing up to the Purple Kettle when I’m working to say hi and buy a coffee. And honestly? As much as it scares me, I kind of love it.

He holds up his hands. “You’re right. I’ll save the date talk for the date.” “Thank you.” His words sink in after half a second. “Not the date. The dinner.” “No one just goes to dinner at Vesuvio’s. It’s a date place.” “That’s where we’re going?” Thank goodness I packed my good heels. That restaurant is the fanciest a small college town like Moorbridge has to offer. I’m surprised he would spring for it, and fine, a little flattered.

“Like I would take my girlfriend to get bad pasta.” “Fake girlfriend.” He grins. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

I bite the inside of my cheek as I stare down at my own laptop. I knew it would be hard, getting close to him. I don’t operate logically where attraction is involved, which is why it’s best not to be involved at all. But he’s taking me to the fanciest place in town and I just know he’s going to want to kiss at the table in case any busybodies are watching. I need to set better ground rules. A peck on the cheek, not a kiss like the one he gave me outside McNamara’s or at Galactic Games.

I find myself getting up and walking around the table so I can peer over his shoulder. He stiffens slightly when I get close. Too close, probably. In a weird way, I’m grateful for the reminder that he doesn’t truly want me. He might be cocky and a bit of a flirt, but that’s just how he’s playing the part of boyfriend. And even if he doesn’t do relationships, he definitely does hookups—every popular guy like him does. The way he kissed me is the way I’m sure he kisses every girl.

“I’m hungry,” he says, looking up at me. “Want to get ready?” “What about the reservation?” “I can get us in early.” “Just like that? It’s so popular.” He shrugs. “My family knows the owner, so yeah. Just like that.”

This girl is going to kill me. I’ve hooked up with a couple of girls since Sara, but none of them made me feel half what I felt with her. I haven’t even slept with Bex—not that I will—and the way my body responds to her feels just like how it was with Sara. Like a fucking forest fire, threatening to burn me alive if I get too close. Sara did burn me. I can’t let the same thing happen with Bex. But what the fuck am I supposed to do when just her hair brushing my shoulder makes my cock stiffen? It was a good thing she walked right back around the table, because I was close to pulling her into my lap. We’re going to dinner early so I don’t do something completely stupid like that while we’re alone. The restaurant will have witnesses. It’ll remind me that this is all an act.

I want more of her touch. More of her soft noises. More of her, smelling like vanilla, skin like velvet. Just like how it was with Sara. That thought makes my jaw tighten as I finish buttoning my shirt. Bex has commandeered my bathroom, so I’m in the bedroom to get ready for dinner. For half a second after she shut the door, it felt domestic, like we’re truly a couple and this is something we do every week, but fortunately that feeling has passed.

Sara was an abyss. Every crying phone call, every dramatic fight, every desperate fuck dragged me in further, until it was missed assignments, missed classes, missed practices. How could I go to practice when my girlfriend was begging me not to, that if I went, she might do something dangerous? I missed my life for her. Bex is not Sara. I know that. But if I let myself get too close, I’ll do anything for her. No matter how ridiculous, outlandish, or damaging.

“Are you decent?” I laugh. “You just made it.” She looks me over. “Okay, I’m glad I brought this dress.” The dress in question is a beautiful lilac with a fitted bodice that shows off her curves and a full skirt that sways as she walks closer. She’s wearing black heels that make her legs seem even longer. Her earrings are the same little gold stars that sparkle as she runs a brush through her hair. “You look so pretty.” She smiles. “Thanks. And look, I’m not as short anymore.” She does a twirl, which makes the skirt rise a few inches.

She smiles at me. “You look nice too. Good to know you can clean up well.” “It’s a requirement for us Callahans. You don’t want to guess how many charity events I’ve been to.”

“I know.” “Oh yeah?”

She glances at me as she heads down the stairs. “I may have, um . . .” “Oh,” I say as it clicks. I holler to Cooper that we’re about to leave, then lead the way to my car. “You googled me?” “More specifically, I googled your father. Your family. But you came up.” She buckles into the passenger seat, biting her lip as she looks at me. “Is that a problem? I’m sorry.” “It’s not like you were snooping. It’s right there on the internet.” It does feel strange, though. I don’t have any big secrets, the real reason behind the mess of last fall aside, but knowing she did research on me, like I’m some news story, hits me wrong, and I’m not sure why. “Yeah.” She smooths her skirt down. “The Callahan Family Foundation, right?” “My parents’ pride and joy. They’re very serious about it.”

“Is something wrong?” She looks at me. “No.” “Something’s wrong.” “I’m fine. Really.” She opens her menu. But something clearly isn’t fine because her jaw is all tight. “Is it my family?”

“Bex,” I say, “tell me what’s up.” She bites her lip, stalling as she traces over the typography on the menu. “It’s just weird, okay? The reminder,” she says. “Your family is famous and you’re going to be too.” “And that’s a problem?” “I’m just some random person who happens to be eating dinner with you.” “You’re not some random person.”

“But I am. I’m not really with you, and I’m not saying I should be, or that . . . I want that, but we’re just not the same kind of person.” She sets down the menu, gesturing to the restaurant. “I’m not the kind of person who goes to places like this.” “I don’t see the difference.” “Of course you don’t, you have everything.” She reaches out to touch my wrist, turning my arm to show off the cufflinks. “And you’re going to keep having everything. I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, because you do. You’re talented at what you love. But that’s never going to be me, and I just remembered that.”

“What do you love?” She shakes her head. “Fake boyfriends don’t get to know that.” “So there is something.” “Photography,” she says, flicking her gaze up to mine. “I’m a photographer. If I could do something else, it would be that.” “But—” “But I can’t, okay?” she interrupts. “Don’t. I know my future already.” “Which is what?” “The diner.” “You could sell it. You’re majoring in business. You can do whatever you want.” She laughs shortly. “Did I ask for your advice?” I let her hand drop. “No.” “Let’s just have dinner, okay?”

I need to ramp things up if this fake date is going to be successful. Eyes on the prize. I lay a possessive hand on James’s arm. “That looks delicious, honey. Make sure you let me try a bite.” If he’s surprised, he does me the courtesy of hiding it. “Sure, princess, but only if you share yours.” I giggle as I make eye contact with the girl at the other table. “So generous of you.” His hand curls over my arm, dragging me close so he can whisper in my ear, “What the fuck is going on? Two seconds ago, I thought you were going to walk all the way back home.” I keep up my smile as I whisper back, “That girl over there is staring. I’m making the date believable. Play along.”

He puts his hand on my thigh. It’s underneath the table, so no one can see; it’s not for the benefit of the server or the nosy couple. It’s very clearly for one person—me. I swallow. His gaze flickers down to my throat and lower before settling back on my face. His hand, which covers my thigh easily, squeezes lightly. “Don’t try to make this any more or less than it can be,” he says. I nod. “Don’t leave me tonight, baby. Stay.”

Yet the streak continues; I nod. I lean in. I press a lingering kiss to his mouth, promising him—and myself—something I have no business offering. But in this moment, with candlelight shining on the table and James’s ocean eyes on mine, I don’t care.

“You’re being barbaric, you know.” He laughs. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” “You don’t know what I like.” I punctuate that by pinching his back. I’d think it didn’t bother him at all, if not for the way he tightens his grip on my butt. “We’re only fake dating, remember?” “Vividly.” He practically kicks open the door.

He runs his hand down my leg, all the way to my ankle, and undoes the strap of my heel. I moan a bit as he takes off the shoe; they’ve been pinching my toes all evening. He does the same for the other shoe, setting them both aside gently. “And just like that, you’re fun-size again.” I hit his shoulder lightly. “Rude.” “What if I told you I prefer you this way?” “Do you?” He presses a kiss to the inside of my thigh, right at the hemline of the dress. “You ought to know by now that I’m not big on lying.” I can’t stop the smile from crossing my lips. He keeps his mouth right where it is, speaking against my skin. “We can do this. We’re obviously attracted to one another.” “Once to get it out of our systems, and then we can just be friends.” He looks up at me. “Exactly.”

He pulls me into a kiss that makes my heart do a somersault. “You sure about this?” “Yes,” I whisper against his lips. “As long as you are.”

He has a tattoo over his heart, some sort of swirling pattern designed in thick lines of black.