Draw Play: A Sports Romance (12 page)

I started off walking to the library from the frat house—I needed the exercise after a week spent sitting in my room. I was almost to the double doors leading inside when I stopped, then turned in the direction of Claire’s dorm.

I
t was a perfect week
. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. Other kids might think it was fun to go to the beach or to ski or whatever, but I loved hanging out with my family in our cozy little house in northern Michigan. We were the type of people who sat around playing board games together. We were that corny.

The first thing Mom said when she saw me climb out of my car in the driveway was, “What happened to your hair?”

Oops. I had forgotten to tell her I cut it. “Uh, it fell off?”

She laughed then opened her arms. “It looks beautiful! I love the way you curled it, too! So pretty!” She hugged me and touched the curls. Marcie had been right—it got easier the more I did it. Now, it was almost like second nature to get up and take the curling wand to it.

“And your clothes! You look fantastic!” She grinned wickedly. “Let me guess. There’s a boy, huh?”

“Mom!” We hadn’t even left the driveway, and already she was doing it to me.

“Well?”

“Can we get inside first, please? Or does the entire neighborhood need to know my business?”

She helped me take my bags inside and then marched me to the kitchen table. A plate of cookies sat on the counter, and she had a kettle on the stove for tea. I sighed deeply, glad to be home. Whenever I thought of home, I immediately thought of the little kitchen with the rose-patterned wallpaper and collection of Mom’s prized porcelain teapots in an armoire along one wall. How many hours had I spent sitting at that same table, eating cookies and drinking tea with my mother?

“Spill your guts, lady,” she ordered.

“There’s not much to say,” I admitted, playing with the little tin of chai tea while I waited. “It was Jess who convinced me about the haircut and the clothes. And she was right—I feel better, I look better. It’s a big difference, even though I didn’t have to do much.”

“I’m so glad, honey. I’ve always said you were a beautiful girl.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re my mom. You’re supposed to.”

“As long as you never hide yourself again.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is that it, then? No boy?”

My cheeks burned red, and she clapped her hands. “You can’t fool your mother, no matter how hard you try. Who is he?”

I looked down at my hands, twirling my thumbs. “Just a guy I’m tutoring,” I admitted.

“A football player?” She sat across from me, pouring hot water into two china teacups. I loved her tea set. It always reminded me of happy times.

“Yes, a football player.”

“And he likes you?”

“I’m not totally sure. I think he might.”

“That’s a start.” She took a bite from her snickerdoodle then drummed her fingers along the tabletop. “Is he any good?”

“Oh, Mom!” I was dying, my face almost on fire.

“Come on. We’re both adults here.”

“I’m tutoring him. That’s all.”

“That’s all? Are you sure?” She peered at me from over the top of her cat’s eye glasses.

I couldn’t help bursting out laughing. “I am not going to give you details, okay? So just get over that right now.”

“So you like each other.”

I couldn’t deny it. “I think we do, yeah.”

My brother, Todd, and my dad came in then, and the conversation ended as I stood and hugged the two of them. They scooped me up, their tall, rangy bodies always dwarfing me.

I was still blushing, though, and grinning. Yeah. We liked each other.

* * *

A
s much as
I hated to say goodbye to my family at the end of the week, I couldn’t wait to get back to Jake. I wondered how he’d feel when we were together again. Would he regret being with me? Would he have gone home to find old girlfriends and realize that I wasn’t much of anything?

I was still thinking it over as I unpacked. Jess called.

“What’s up?” I asked as I went through my things.

“I wanted to let you know I won’t be in until tomorrow morning. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Oh, okay. Is everything all right there?”

“Yeah, I just decided to spend the night rather than driving back and getting in at all hours. I don’t have class until noon, anyway.”

“Right. Okay, safe travels. See you then.” Just as I hung up, my fingers closed over a box of condoms. Mom had helped me pack, apparently. I shrieked when I saw them and told myself to give her a call once I calmed down. She was too much.

My phone rang again, and I thought it would be Jess. It wasn’t. My heart leapt into my throat when I saw who it was.

“Jake?”

“Where are you? Are you back yet?”

I frowned at his sharp tone. “Yes, I’m in my room.”

“Is your roommate back yet?”

“No, she’s not coming back until tomorrow morning.”

“I need you.”

My body responded in an instant—my heart pounded, my blood raced. A distinct warmth spread between my legs. I had to hold on to the back of my desk chair to support myself.

“I’m here,” I said. “I’m waiting.”

A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I looked through the peephole and hung up the phone, then flung the door open. There Jake was. I hadn’t known until just then how much I’d missed him.

He was on me before the door closed, hands on either side of my face, his mouth prying mine open. Plundering me with his tongue. I gave myself over to him, letting him do what he wanted with me. I needed him more than I thought possible—I hadn’t known it until I saw his face.

He swept my suitcase to the floor, then pulled my clothes off, one piece at a time. Off went the T-shirt. Off went the shorts. Off with the bra and panties. I couldn’t believe he stripped me naked without so much as a word, but I wouldn’t dream of stopping him. I wanted him too much. My heart raced, my body hummed with breathless anticipation.

He lowered me to the bed, but instead of getting undressed and entering me, he dropped to his knees and pulled my hips toward him. I gasped when I realized what he wanted to do.

“Are you sure?” I asked, surprised.

“Why not?” The first words he’d spoken since I opened the door.

“I didn’t think that was something men liked to do.”

“You’re wrong.” He said nothing else, lowering his head until it was between my legs. His tongue raced up and down my clit, and I nearly wept with pleasure.

Then he went even deeper, into my folds. I gasped, crying out, holding him closer even as I told myself it wasn’t right, he didn’t like it, he couldn’t like it. He didn’t seem to mind when his tongue met my clit. I almost screamed when he flicked it again and again, back and forth, up and down, moaning against my sensitive flesh. The vibration was just another source of pleasure, and before long I didn’t know which end was up as I sank deeper into complete bliss.

With his tongue came another feeling, of his fingers. I felt him slide one, then two into me. He pumped them in and out as his tongue continued to move over my clit, which was on fire thanks to his skill.

“Yes! Jake!” I twisted the sheets with my fisted hands, clawing at them, nearly screaming as he gave me more pleasure than I could handle. I cried out once more, tensing all over before sweet, blissful waves washed over me.

I could hardly move or think. All I knew was the sensation of being taken so suddenly, so totally. The feeling of abandoning myself to pleasure. It was almost too much, but not quite.

I opened my eyes to find him stripping down, and I spread my legs wider, still hanging over the edge of the bed.
Damn me to Hell for being a hussy
, I thought as he grasped my hips and drove himself into me. I closed my eyes, throwing my head back as he slid deep inside.

“Yes … oh, Claire … God…” he grunted, taking me hard and fast right away.

I welcomed it, moving with him, wanting all of him. I wanted him to take me any way he wanted me. Pleasure grew again, brighter and hotter with each thrust.

I cried out in time with the slamming together of our bodies, the volume growing louder and louder the longer he went. I wrapped my legs around his butt and pulled myself closer to him, moving against him, slamming harder and harder until I couldn’t take any more. I tensed again as the pressure built … then released. I shuddered, gasping his name.

He followed me just after that; his thrusts are frantic until one last, hard thrust sent him over the edge. He grunted and shook, then sighed with satisfaction.

I watched him and smiled when he looked down at me with half-lidded eyes.

“Good to see you again,” I murmured.

A
fterward
, we lay together in her bed. It was sort of a snug fit—I wasn’t used to the little dorm room twin beds. Amazing how anybody got laid in college. It was nice, though, in a way. We got to be close to each other. Her soft, warm body was draped over mine as she dozed with her head on my chest.

Who was this woman? I’d been asking myself that question for weeks. Who was she, really? There were so many different sides to her. The nerd. The brain. The smartass. The sweet, supportive girl who stopped trying to make money and started trying to help me succeed for real. She genuinely cared whether or not I flunked out of the football program, not because she needed the cash. She would have gotten it either way. She cared about me. And she thought I was better than I gave myself credit for.

She stirred like she could hear my thoughts. I closed my eyes.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” she murmured.

I stayed still, hoping she would assume she was wrong. Then, I felt her fingers pinch my nose.

“What are you doing?” I asked, shaking my head.

She laughed. “I knew you were awake, liar.”

“I was trying to go back to sleep, thanks. Without you killing me.”

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have used a pillow.” The way she said it, it sounded perfectly normal. “What were you thinking about?”

“Ugh, this? Are you one of those girls?” I laughed when I asked.

“One of those girls? What, the ones who always want to talk and cuddle after sex?”

“Yeah. One of those.”

“Is that a problem? That I actually care what you’re thinking? That you’re not just some walking dick I can bounce on?”

“Easy, easy. Chill.” I held up a hand. “I was kidding around.”

She sighed. “Sorry. I got a little upset there.”

“Obviously.”

“I just don’t want you to see me as one of those girls.”

“Which ones?”

“Whichever ones you don’t like. I don’t want to be the stereotypical, clingy girl. I hate girls like that.”

I pushed a few strands of dark hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Don’t worry. I don’t think you’re one of those girls.”

She smiled in relief. “So tell me. What were you thinking about?” She rested her chin on my chest.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope.”

I searched around for something to say. “The last thing I had thought about before you tried to smother me was home. Being home for break. It was a fucking nightmare.”

“What happened to you back there?” she asked. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice, but you never say much, really.”

I looked down at her. Would she understand? Her face was sincere. She wasn’t the kind of person who would judge me. I hoped not, anyway.

I stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell Claire while I was looking at her. Some of it filled me with so much shame, after all those years.

“When I grew up, I was poor. I mean dirt poor. We lived in a tiny house in a crappy neighborhood where everybody else was as poor as us. Just my mom and me. I never met my father. I don’t know where he is or who he is. All I have is his last name. I used to dream about him, the sort of person he was. I mean, Jennings. That’s an impressive sounding name, right? I thought he had to be as impressive as his name was. I would imagine him coming for me, and every day I hoped just a little bit harder. Especially on my birthday and Christmas. I was sure he’d come. Only he never did, of course. I finally understood that he had no idea I existed. My mom didn’t even know him. He was a one-night stand or a quickie affair. Nothing special.”

Claire put her hand over mine.

“So we lived on welfare. Mom spent a lot of it on cigarettes and booze. You don’t know what it’s like to always be the kid whose clothes don’t quite fit. I grew fast—I mean, look at me. I’m a tall guy. I outgrew everything I owned. I started working when I was fourteen just so I could buy my own clothes. I couldn’t afford much, and they were always a little dirty, but they fit. I wasn’t busting the seams on them. I could buy enough food, too. I was always hungry.

“One thing Mom could always afford was the fees for football. I always had a jersey and equipment. Football was everything. Her brothers had played; her daddy had played. She used to be a cheerleader, or so she told me. I never saw pictures or anything. Whenever she saw me sitting around the house, she asked me to go outside and exercise so I would be ready for football. I watched it on TV every chance I got. I used to go to the park and ask the kids to play with me—none of them knew how to play since their parents couldn’t afford the fees. I taught them just so I could practice in the offseason.” I remembered being that kid with the too short pants and too tight shoes, explaining plays to the other children. They didn’t have a clue, but they were happy to have something to do in the shitty place where we lived.

“Mom made it clear that football was my only chance out of there. She told me over and over how important it was that I make it onto the high school team, then get a scholarship to college. I worked my ass off—you have no idea. And I worked part-time, and I did all right in school, too. Only she never wanted to see me studying. That was the fucked-up part.”

“Just that part?” Claire asked, and I knew she wasn't just a smartass. There was sympathy in her voice.

“Well, yeah. I get what you’re saying. No matter how many times I told Mom that I had to keep my GPA up if I expected to play, she still made me feel guilty for it. I used to stay late after school just so I could study in peace. She assumed I was training, so I let her keep believing that.

“God, we were so poor. She still is. She lives in the house, ready to fall down on her. She won’t do a damned thing to help herself. She’s waiting for me to save her when I get signed to a team. She already has the house picked out.”

Claire squeezed my hand, and I squeezed back. I took a minute to compose myself since I got a little choked up.

“I went back to visit her over break. I can’t believe the two of us ever lived there together in that tiny house. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms, a bathroom. That’s it.”

“You used to be a lot smaller, I guess,” Claire pointed out.

“True. Now, I have to duck half the time. The bathroom’s so tiny, I can hardly fit inside. It’s a joke. She’s waiting on me. That’s when she’ll have the life she always dreamed of.”

“What if you decided to give up football? What if you said ‘screw it, I’ll be an English teacher’?”

“Then she would spend the rest of her life in that house. Dragging the laundry down to the washing machines once a week. Washing her unmentionables in the bathroom sink—that’s what she used to call them. Having her boyfriends over, playing her music too loud, getting drunk. That’s how she lives now, and that’s how she would die.”

I dared look over at Claire, and she was shaking her head. “I know it must sound unbelievable to you,” I said. “You have a great family. The kind of family I always wanted. Mom, dad, brother. Nice house. Plenty of money. You never had to wonder where the next meal was coming from.”

“You’re breaking my heart right now,” she whispered, big tears in her green eyes.

That shook me out of my train of thought. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kept talking like that. I don’t hold it against you or anything, honest.”

“I know you don’t. But I hold it against me. It’s hard to explain. I always used to think I had it so bad growing up. I even thought about killing myself a few times. I never considered that there were other people with their own problems. You, a football player? I would have assumed you had it made because it was people like you who made my life miserable.”

“People like me?”

“The jocks.”

I nodded. “And the rich, smart kids made my life miserable. Until I hit junior and senior year, that is. Then I played as a starter, and nobody messed with me.” I could see her point. In the Midwest, being a football player made you special. You weren’t like other people anymore, and special treatment was typical.

“Before football, I was nobody. And if I didn’t have it, I’d end up like the losers who stayed around that shitty little town.” Like Melissa, though she was about to get out. And Greta. I couldn’t tell Claire about her. “Football’s all I have.”

“It’s not all you have,” Claire whispered. She moved closer to me, turning my head until I faced her. She kissed me softly. “It’s not all you have. It’s not.” She kissed my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, whispering over and over. All I could do was let her keep kissing me and saying it. I wanted to believe her. I wanted to.

She touched my lips again, and I held her close. The kiss deepened, and I pried her mouth open with my tongue. She whimpered when our tongues touched, and again when my hands traveled down over her luscious curves. Her ass was so firm and round, and I dug my fingers in. Her gasp made my cock hard in an instant.

I rolled her over, leaning on my forearms, and she wrapped her legs around my hips as I drove myself into her. I needed her, right then, at that moment. I needed her to make me feel better than I was. She always did. I never felt like the poor loser kid when we were together. I didn’t feel less-than, the way I felt when the guys talked about their lives and their families. I could never compete with that.

And I never had a girl like her—not at home, when I was a kid, and not in college, either. They were all sluts, football groupies, the girls who would sleep with
anybody
. Like, Jenny. Smart girl, not a bad person, but it never meant anything to her. Once she was done with you she would quickly move on to the next sports player.

But Claire. She was different. When I slid inside of her, I felt like I was with somebody real. I couldn’t explain it. When she wrapped her arms around my shoulders and sighed, I felt like she was really there. Her mind wasn’t on anything else. She wasn’t just getting it over with to say she did it. She wanted to be with me—me, not the football star. Just me.

All this and a hundred other thoughts ran through my head as I drove myself further into her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. I took my time at first, watching her. It was fascinating, the way her face changed when I was inside her. The way her mouth opened when she moaned, the way her breathing picked up. Her forehead creased like she was concentrating on the feeling.

She was so tight, so hot. All I wanted to do was fuck her hard, take her and make her scream my name. But I couldn’t. She wasn’t like that, not to me. I wanted her to scream, but I didn’t want to be rough. I understood what it meant to take my time. It wasn’t a race, and it wasn’t all about my vanity—how loud I could make her come. It was about her pleasure and mine. What we could do together.

She opened her eyes as I moved in and out, and she whispered my name. I groaned and drove myself even deeper. My pace picked up as she quickened beneath me. Her hips jerked upward, meeting me. I moaned against her shoulder then bit down until she cried out for more. I slammed into her once, twice, and she screamed softly.

The little noises that came from her mouth were like music to my ears, and they forced me to go harder and faster. My body took over for my brain, and I moved in deep, pounding thrusts that turned her cries to grunts. I grunted with her, and we rode each other until her tunnel tightened around my shaft and she clawed at my back.

“Oh, Jake! Yes!” she yelled then shuddered in release. I couldn’t do anything but let myself go along with her, and I groaned into her pillow when I came.