First Down (Beyond the Play #1)

by Grace Reilly

“I always wondered what girls talk about alone,” I hear James say. “Now I know you’re just as dirty as the guys.” I spin around. He’s in the doorway of my bedroom, wearing a leather jacket and a McKee football T-shirt. A grin breaks out on my face; before I can register what’s happening, I’m in his arms, planting a kiss on his lips. I feel his hand come up to stroke through my hair. “How did you get in here?” I demand. “You left the door open.” He makes a chiding noise. “You’re lucky it was me who walked in, you know. You could have been murdered by the next Ted Bundy.” “You can murder me any time,” says Laura with a grin.

“And I’m hoping to add new routines, anyway.” My heart does a somersault; I can’t help smiling. “Oh yeah?” “Waking up next to my girl can’t hurt.”

“Going to all his games now like some kind of cleat chaser?” I stiffen, trying to keep a neutral expression as I look at Darryl. He’s still in half his gear, his Under Armor shirt plastered to his skin, hair damp on his forehead. He’s standing too close, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of backing up. “Is that what you called me when we were dating? A cleat chaser?” His expression tightens. “You made your point with him, Bexy. Give up the act.” “It’s not an act.”

“You might think he cares about you, but he’s just as selfish as you think I am,” he says. “Did he tell you the real reason he left LSU?” I stay silent. He takes my lack of an answer as confirmation, chuckling softly. “I didn’t think so.” “Shut the hell up, Darryl.” “Ask him about Sara Wittman, babe. His ex-girlfriend.” “Don’t call me that.” I try to wriggle away, but he uses his height and weight to his advantage to pin me in place. “And get the fuck off me, or I’ll call him.” “You won’t.” Darryl’s eyes pierce mine. “If he fights me, he’ll get kicked off the team. That already happened once.”

“What do you mean?” “Of course, his daddy cleaned up the problem. Tried to make it disappear. But that doesn’t change the fact that Sara nearly killed herself.” I dig my teeth into my lower lip, wiping my sweaty palms on my jacket. “You’re lying.” “And when he realizes you’re just another slut, he’ll dump your ass like he did her. You think he’s going to save you? Babe, the second you get in the way, you’re gone. And I’ll be waiting.” “Fuck off,” I say, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice. I shove at him.

“I missed you,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t think of anything the second the game ended except coming back here to you.” I force myself to smile. Even though I’m dying for some real answers, I can’t do that to him now. Not after a win to keep their perfect season intact. Not while he’s looking at me like I’m the only person in the world and holding me like he wishes we could meld into one.

I force another smile as I accept the glass of champagne. “What’s the occasion?” He joins me on the bed. “First time we’ve gone away together. I thought we’d like to make a nice memory, instead of it being, you know, that time we went to the Holiday Inn and my teammates tried to drag us to a party.” I smile for real this time. “You’re sweet. Do you still want that pork dish?” “Sounds great.” I call the restaurant and order, which is way harder than it needs to be because he keeps touching me, kissing my neck and dragging up the hem of the jersey to palm at my ass. I glare at him over my shoulder, but he just ducks in for a kiss. When I hang up, he brushes my hair back. “Are you wondering about the present?” “It’s big.” “Not the only big thing you’ll be getting tonight.”

“Want to open it now?” “I’m surprised you don’t want to give me the other big thing first,” I say dryly. “This is worth the wait.” I give him a look as I tear at the wrapping paper. There are actually two things wrapped together. I see the photo album first, and then the box registers. A camera. “James,” I whisper. He leans in a bit, an anxious look on his face. “Is it okay? I did some research into it, but if it’s not the right kind, I’ll return it and get you exactly what you need.”

I set it aside gently, then launch myself into his arms. He catches me with ease. “Hey, princess. Did I do good?” “It’s perfect.” I kiss him deeply, squeezing my arms around his neck. His hands settle underneath my thighs, holding me close. “You didn’t have to, though, it’s not cheap and I can always—” “No.” He cuts me off firmly. “This is a gift. Make new art with it, honey, okay?”

“Thank you,” I finally whisper. I kiss him again, moving my hands to his face, framing his jaw. He looks right at me with those eyes I’ve come to love before kissing me back, settling me down on the bed.

“God, Bex,” he says. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” He splays his hand on my soft belly, pulling me into another kiss. I stroke my hand through his hair as I kiss him back. “You are too,” I say with total honesty. And because he’s confident in his masculinity, he doesn’t make a face. He just breaks away to look at me, a tender expression on his face. “This lingerie is so pretty,” he says as he traces over the lace on one of the blush pink bra cups. My breath hitches at the promise of contact where I want it. “Did you get this just for me?” I nod, digging my teeth into my lower lip.

When I pull away, he has a dark look in his eyes, like he’s struggling not to throw me down and fuck into me. Fuck, I want it. I want him to fill me up so completely I can’t help but come again, this time all over his cock. “Bex,” he says, his voice still so low and rough it makes me shiver. “I want you,” I say. “I want . . .” “Keep going.” “I want you to fuck me,” I say in a rush. “Good girl,” he praises. He drags his thumb over my lips, dipping into my mouth in a tender gesture before pulling back.

We both catch our breath, panting, for a long moment. There’s a strange feeling inside my chest, a balloon of pressure that I can’t make go away. Maybe it’s because of how he looks at me as he comes back from discarding the condom with a washcloth in hand to clean me up. Or maybe it’s how he kisses me, his hand cradling my jaw. Or how he pulls his sweater over my head the moment I begin to shiver. The food is here, and I watch as he sets up everything, pouring us each more champagne. I’m feeling something I don’t want to name, even in my mind, because it scares me too badly. Especially after what Darryl told me. James Callahan has infiltrated my heart.

Last night, something shifted. It’s been shifting ever since the diner, drawing me closer to her with inexorable sureness. I looked down at her, saw her flushed cheeks and the desire in her gorgeous eyes, and I almost said something I promised my father I wouldn’t tell a girl again for a long time. And now I have the urge to say it again, so instead I grin, winding my hand around her calf. “Hope you got my good side.”

“Who’s Sara Wittman?” I sit up, heart jackhammering in my chest. “What did you say?” “Sara Wittman,” she says. “Was she your girlfriend?” “Yeah,” I say. “Babe, how did you . . .” She presses her lips together. “Tell me what happened with her. Tell me the real reason why you came to McKee.” I know that she’s asking me something reasonable—she’s my girlfriend, she deserves to know about my past—but the part of me that still wants to protect Sara rebels against it. I haven’t spoken to her since that day in the hospital, but she still echoes in my mind from time to time. I loved her. I thought I was going to marry her one day.

“Sara is an intense person,” I say. “Pretty soon we were spending all our time together. She didn’t like to be alone, and I sort of became her person, you know? She came to all my practices. We practically lived together; I had an apartment off-campus that she stayed in. And it worked, for a while. Maybe it was stupid, but I assumed we were going to get married, so why wouldn’t I want to spend all my time with her?” Bex plays with my fingers. “And then?” I swallow. “And then she didn’t want me hanging out with the guys from the team. Whenever I went to an away game she couldn’t go to, she called me until I picked up. I kept blowing off assignments to be with her, and eventually practices. Whenever I tried to give us some distance, she clung tighter. She said she had to come first.”

“Coach gave me some leeway at first, because of the goodwill I’d built up over my first two years there. But I was failing two of my classes after mid-semester, including the writing one, and according to school policy, that meant I had to be benched.” “Were you?” I shut my eyes briefly. “No. We worked out a deal that I would make up the work I missed and come in for extra practices to prep for the postseason. And to make that work, I told Sara that we needed to cool things down for a while. Just until the end of the season.” I look at Bex, tracing my thumb over her knuckles. “I didn’t break up with her, but she took it that way. And I hadn’t realized how fragile she was. She kept saying she was fine with it, but she spiraled.” “Spiraled how?” “She stopped going to class. She blew off her job working at the student center. She’d always been a bit of a party girl, but she started drinking during the day and taking pills.” Bex’s eyes widen further. “What?” “I tried to ignore her calls because I wanted to set boundaries. I had no idea she was hurting so badly. Not until she called me the night before the last game of the season and told me she was going to—”

“No,” Bex says softly. “She cut herself.” I swallow hard. “By the time I got there, she’d already done it. She was passed out, and I couldn’t wake her up. I tried the whole time I was waiting for the ambulance.” My eyes are burning. I blink, trying to prevent the tears from coming. Bex crowds closer, winding her arms around me. I hook my chin over her shoulder. It’s easier to talk like this. “I missed the game. I didn’t want to be away from her, not for a second and not for an entire football game. But the team lost, of course, the backup quarterback hadn’t played at all.” I squeeze Bex, shuddering in a breath. “And I didn’t want the news about Sara to become public because of me. So, when the media asked why I missed the game, I made it seem like I blew it off. Like I was irresponsible, and it had nothing to do with her.”

“She’s okay now. Her parents put her in a program so she could get the help she needed.” My voice cracks again. “Her father was grateful that I protected her when I could have used her as an excuse to make myself look good, so when all was said and done, he helped me wipe the slate clean and transfer to McKee, for a shot at a championship and maintaining my position in the draft. I fucking hurt his daughter, and he still . . .”

wasn’t your fault.” I shake my head. “You don’t have to pretend.” “I’m not.” She cups my cheek, her eyes searching mine. “When I was eleven, my father left my mother. One day he just packed up and left. It turned out he had another family, and everything he built with my mother, the diner, their marriage—he threw it away in an instant.”

“It destroyed my mother. She was pregnant, and the news shocked her so much that she miscarried. She turned into someone I didn’t even recognize, and even now, years later, she’s not the same.” Color floods her face. “She turned into someone who takes a valium with wine at noon and accidentally sets apartments on fire.”

“Even though I hate my father, I don’t blame him for how my mother still acts a decade later. What happened with Sara wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that’s how she would react. She was sick, and she needed help.” “She could have died.” “And she didn’t. You helped her. You did a lot more than most people would.” She strokes through my hair, then presses our foreheads together. We stay like that for a while, breathing in tandem. After all was said and done, my father and I agreed: no girlfriends until I got into the league. No distractions. But being able to hold Bex, just like this? I’m willing to take the risk.

Almost the second I get back into the groove with the problem I’m solving, however, Cooper bursts into my room. I scrub my hand through my hair. “Hey,” he says as he shuts the door behind him. I don’t even get into the whole not-knocking thing. “What’s up?”

He lets out a sigh as he sits on the edge of the bed. “You and Bex are getting pretty serious.” I keep my grin in check by burying my nose in my textbook. “Yep.” “Even though you said you weren’t going to date anyone the rest of your college career.” “She’s different, man.” Coop flops back against the bed. “Seb told me you want her to come over at Christmas.” “Yep.” “Christmas.”

Maybe it’s silly, but I want to fall asleep next to her in my childhood bedroom. I want to see if she has any cute Christmas earrings, and if she doesn’t, buy her a pair or ten. I want my family to see how special she is.

“James. I love you. But this is a bad idea. Dad already doesn’t like her.” “I can handle Dad. She’s not Sara.” “At least Sara would have followed you anywhere you went in the league.” “What?” “She’s committed to the diner, right? Which means she’ll be here. You’re probably going to be across the country.”

“It’s complicated. Her mother is still attached to the diner.” “Her mother the accidental arsonist?” “Jesus, Coop.” He sits up. “What, am I wrong? You started out pretending to date her, which was doomed from the fucking start because you get like this, man. You romanticize things. You’re letting yourself get in too deep with a girl who isn’t going to be able to give herself to you the way you’re giving yourself to her.” “Because you’re some great expert on relationships? Have you ever even tried to be in one?” I pretend to think for a moment. “Right, you haven’t.” “I know you. I know how you get when you think you’re in love.” “I’m not in love with her,” I reply. But my heart jumps into my throat. I’m not lying, exactly.

“I think she’s cool,” he says. “I’m not saying she isn’t.” “But?” “But she’s going to hurt you. It’s just a matter of when.” Anger rolls through me. “Noted.” He scoots up the bed until he’s sitting next to me. “Just make sure you’re thinking this through.” “Did you come in here just to insult my girlfriend?” I say shortly. I’m officially done with this conversation.

“No, I wanted to talk about Izzy. Does she still want to go into the city for a shopping spree? Dinner after at Le Bernardin?”

“It’ll be good to spend time with her,” Coop says. “Mom was telling me that she broke up with that weird guy.” I do a little fist pump. “Finally.” “I know, right? He sucked.” My excitement fades as it occurs to me that she might be heartbroken. “Did he hurt her? Do we need to go kick his ass? Shit, that was her first real boyfriend.” “I think he was flirting with other girls, like an idiot.” “What a prick.” “I’d offer to go find him and beat him up, but I’m sure she has that handled.” “She’s scrappy, I’ll give her that.

Izzy

“Good luck,” I tell him. His voice is soft as he replies, “Thanks, princess.” I’m grinning like an idiot at my phone when Aunt Nicole pokes her head in to look for me. “It looks like the ceremony is going to start soon. Do you want me to heat up some queso?” “That would be awesome.” She squeezes my arm, leaning in a bit. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s loads cuter than Darryl.” I wander back into the living room and settle on the couch next to my mother. She glances over at me as she takes a sip of her wine. “Which one is yours again?” I force a smile. When James invited me to come with him and his family to the ceremony, I wanted to, of course, but ditching my mother on the anniversary of my father’s leaving was unthinkable. “You know who he is. He came to the diner after you set it on fire.”

“Isn’t it exciting that Bex’s guy might win, Bri?” Uncle Brian grunts out an affirmative. My uncle isn’t much of a talker, but now that I know more about football than before, we’ve been able to relate to each other. “Seen some of McKee’s games this season. He’s talented, I’ll give him that.” I smile as I reach for a chip. “He deserves this. He’s so talented. Watching him live has been incredible, Uncle Brian, really.” “Of course, I prefer the NFL,” he says. “College play can be very different than professional. But I think he has what it takes. Where are they saying he’ll end up, most likely? Philadelphia or San Francisco?” “Even Philadelphia is pretty far,” Mom says. “Have you thought about that at all?” “No,” I say, which is the truth. I’ve been trying to keep next April out of my mind as much as possible. If I think about the fact that this time next year, he’ll be living in a different city, playing on the professional level every Sunday, my stomach ties itself into knots and I can barely swallow. It’s not that I’m not excited or happy or proud. I’m all those things at once. It’s just that it’s a future I know I don’t fit into.

“He looks a bit flashy,” Mom says as she leans back, balancing her wineglass on her knee. “What’s that, a designer suit?” “I think he looks nice,” Aunt Nicole says diplomatically. Mom takes a deep sip of wine as she watches the camera pan over James and the other finalists. “Not exactly our kind, Nicole.”

Be nice Mom!

Mom glances at me. “Of course, he can buy whatever he wants. Got you that fancy new camera.” I don’t point out it was to replace the one she ruined because it would just make this evening more tense.

And then they finally announce the winner. It’s James. I distantly hear Aunt Nicole’s whoop and Uncle Brian’s clapping. I definitely hear Mom’s snort as she gets up. My eyes blur with tears as I clap my hand over my mouth to cover my gasp. He walks onstage, the biggest smile I’ve ever seen from him on his face, and accepts the trophy with a handshake. He looks perfect. Handsome and confident and every bit the prodigal son the football world is expecting. When the clapping quiets, he just stares down at the trophy for a long moment before clearing his throat. “I don’t know where to begin,” he admits, and the crowd indulges him with kind laughter. From the kitchen, I hear a smash. Broken glass.

Mom is in the kitchen, leaning over the sink. Shards of glass litter it, still dripping with red wine, but I zero in instantly on the blood running down her palm. “Mom?” I can’t keep the crack of fear out of my voice. She looks at me with tears running down her cheeks. Her mascara, which was messy to begin with, is smudged. She winces as she pulls a piece of glass out of her palm. “Jesus.” I hurry over and grab a dishcloth, wrapping her hand in it and pressing down. She surprises me by pulling me into a fierce hug. She hasn’t hugged me like this, cheek to cheek, in a while. “Bex,” she whispers. “Sweetheart.” “Mom,” I murmur back, rubbing my cheek against hers. “What did you do?” “I slipped.”

She crowds close. “Sweetie. Look at me.” I pick out a couple more pieces, setting them on a paper towel. “He’s going to leave you.” I blink hard, keeping my attention on the sink. “That so? What, you have a crystal ball?” “No, but he’s a man, and men leave.” “Uncle Brian is right outside with his wife. Your sister.” “Men like the ones we want,” she says, her voice low and insistent. “Look at him, baby girl. Do you really think you’ll be able to compete with all the women he’ll meet the second he steps out in his new uniform? There’s a reason men like him marry models. Who do you think you are, Gisele fucking Bündchen?”