Home Run Baby: A Sports Romance (38 page)

I hesitate. “Yes.”

“Well, well, well…” he chuckles. “Sounds like
your dad
isn’t the only new coach around here. I’m impressed.”

“I just don’t want to be another girl he bangs and forgets about,” I explain. “I have more self-respect than that and if wants to bang me, then he’ll show me that same respect and earn it on my terms.”

“Oh, you don’t have to justify it to me,” he says. “I’m all for it. You just have to worry about what
daddy
thinks of it.”

“What daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“That’s always been my motto,” he jokes.

“Which is why I trust you to keep this
quiet
.”

Grant holds up his hands in surrender. “I swear on my life, Eliza. If this gets out, it won’t come from me.”

“Thank you.”

“Next!”

Mr. Young calls us out and my heart stops.

Grant grips my hand. “Let’s go kick some ass, Pierce. You with me?”

I nod quickly, forcing every butterfly to wither and die in my stomach before standing up. “Let’s do this.”

***

I step into Talon Hall and the butterflies return.

Mr. Young said the cast list would be posted outside of his office at eight o’clock this morning. It’s seven-thirty now but I’ve been up since five.

I’ve spent the last several hours replaying the audition in my head, picking it apart into little pieces, wondering if I said this word wrong or didn’t put enough emotion into that phrase. Every little piece of it has been dissected and studied at least a dozen times but I’m not anywhere closer to being as confident as Grant seems to be.

He told me not to worry about it; we have it
in the bag
. Mr. Young didn’t say a word after our scene. He just nodded with that hard expression of his and waved us off. Grants insists that’s a good thing. I have my doubts.

I round the corner towards Young’s office and halt in my tracks so fast, my shoes screech like tires.

“Hey, Ellie.”

I blink, convinced it’s just a mirage but no, Junior Morgan is standing there, leaning against the wall outside of Young’s office with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Hey.” I step forward with suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

He holds out one of the coffees. “Black, as you like it.”

“What are you doing here?”
I ask again. “You shouldn’t keep coming back here. If someone sees you and tells my father—”

“Relax,” he says. “This is the
theatre department
. No jocks would be caught dead in here. We’re safe.”

“Then why are
you
here?”

“I figured you could use some moral support.” He holds the coffee out a little further, forcing me to take it from him. “Cast list gets posted at eight, right?”

“Who told you that?”

“The Internet.”

“Why are you looking up audition schedules on the Internet?”

“So I could surprise you with coffee.”

“Why?”

He chuckles. “You’re very cranky in the morning. I’ll have to remember that—”

“Junior.”

“I just wanted to see your face when you got the role,” he says, pushing off the wall. “I saw part one yesterday and I didn’t want to miss part two.”

I furrow my brow. “What do you mean you saw part one yesterday?”

He grins. “How did you guys make that slap look so
real
? Did you
actually
slap him?”

All of my blood drains from my face. “You watched the audition?”

“I was on the balcony. You had no idea?”

“No…” I blink. “Why were you there?”

“Because the audition was important to you and I wanted to support you.” He takes a sip of his coffee, filling the silence while I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. “Why are you always so surprised when I do something thoughtful?”

“Because you’re Junior Morgan.”

He laughs. “Fair point.”

“Good morning, Ms. Pierce.”

I twitch at Mr. Young’s old, stern voice as he pops out of his office and I turn around to face him. “Good morning, Mr. Young.”

He slides out in front of his bulletin board and pins a paper to its center. “I think you’re going to be quite pleased,” he says, flashing me the first smile I’ve ever seen on him. “I certainly was.”

Without another word, Mr. Young ducks into his office and closes the door behind him.

I twist back around to Junior and he juts his chin towards the wall. “Well… go on,” he says, smiling.

Oh, crap. This is it.

All the butterflies. All the sleepless hours left waiting to know. It all ends now; either with blissful happiness or crushing disappointment.

I step over to the bulletin board and look for my name.

Nora … Eliza Pierce

“Holy shit,”
I breathe. “I got the lead.” I spin around to look at Junior. “I got the lead!”

He nods his head, seemingly unsurprised by it all. “I knew you would.”

I grip my chest, feeling a surge of unyielding emotion tear me apart.

“Did he post it?!”

Grant comes charging around the corner towards us, out of breath and sweating. “Traffic sucks. Did I miss it?!”

I step back to give him room and he gasps so wide, his jaw practically detaches.

“I got the lead!” he gasps. I point to the next name down and Grant squeals at me. “You got the lead!”

“We got the lead!”

We crush together in excitement and Grant squeezes me so hard I can barely breathe.

When he finally releases me, I turn around to look for Junior but he’s nowhere to be seen.

My excitement falls as I glance down the hall looking for him, hoping I just missed him but he’s gone.

I hand my coffee to Grant. “I’ll be right back.”

I move quickly down the hall towards the lobby to look for Junior. Before I round the corner, a hand latches around my arm and pulls me into an empty classroom.

Junior closes the door and presses me against the wall. “Congratulations,” he says before crushing his lips on mine.

I lean into the kiss, feeling it all the way down into my toes as his hands travel down my body. “Thanks for coming,” I tell him, “at eight in the morning on a
Saturday
.”

He attacks my neck, leaving a line of kisses from my ear to my collarbone. “I had to be on campus anyway,” he says, sliding his fingers beneath my blouse. “Coach wants to get in one last practice before the game today.”

“Aren’t you going to be late?”

“Probably,” he breathes, kissing me again. He leans down to cup my rear and lifts me up to pin me against the wall with little effort. “But I wanted to be sure you’re still in on our deal…”

I quiver as his hard package presses against me. “Yes, I’m still in.”

“Good.” He sucks my bottom lip between his teeth. “Because I want to fill this little mouth of yours, Eliza Pierce…”

I moan, imagining his salty sweetness on my tongue.

He gives me one last kiss and drops me back down. “Are you coming to the game?”

“Uh…” I straighten my skirt. “I don’t think so.”

“What? You don’t like football?”

“Not really.”

Junior chuckles. “But your dad is
Cary Pierce
.”

“Yeah… that’s kinda why I don’t like football,” I say, only half-joking.

“Where can I find you after?”

“Here.”

His lips curl. He slides his thumb along my bottom lip and I know exactly what he’s imagining putting there. “Bye, Ellie.”

I nod, fighting all temptation in me to let him have it right here and now. “Bye, Junior.”

He opens the door and steps outside into the hall.

I take a long, deep breath. Then another one. And another one.

It’s only eight in the morning and I already need a new pair of panties.

It’s gonna be a long day…

Chapter 11

Junior

Pure adrenaline.

There’s no other way to describe it. The call of the screaming crowd — most of which came just to catch a quick glimpse of Cary Pierce. The rehearsed rhymes from the cheerleaders. The weight of the pads on my shoulders. It all comes together with the pouring sweat and pulsing blood and that’s what it creates: Pure, unfiltered adrenaline.

Add in the taste of Eliza Pierce’s lip gloss still clinging to my tongue and I’m surprised I’m even conscious right now.

I look straight ahead and stare into the faces of the defensive linemen, each one of them just itching to dart forward and take me out. Their black eyes give a nervous twitch and I fight the grin from spreading across my face.

Earlier tonight, that twitch was nonexistent. They knew who we were. They knew the reputation this school has, just like everybody else does.

We’re a bunch of losers.

Not so much anymore.

We’re twelve points ahead.
Twelve.
That’s a bigger lead than we’ve ever had. The other team thought they had this in the bag but since the start of the fourth quarter, they’ve been sweating a little more than we are.

I glance to the sidelines and I lock eyes with Cary Pierce. He nods at me with his arms crossed over his chest and for a moment, I think this is all just a dream.

If someone walked up to me when I was ten-years-old and told me that someday I’d be the quarterback for a college football team coached by
Cary freakin’ Pierce
, I’d have said they were full of shit. Especially when they added in the part about feeling up his hot daughter in a dark, empty classroom.

With eyes forward, I lean down to prepare for the snap. The world spins in slow motion and I turn my head to check the positions of the offensive line one last time, my cleats digging into the turf just twenty yards from the end zone.

“Hike!”

The center snaps the ball back and I catch it as the defensive line shoves forward with hell in their eyes.

My eyes shift to the wide receivers on either side. The one to my left struggles to make it past the cornerback but Ty bolts like lightning around the fray.

I pull my arm back and throw it over their heads, arching it far down the field a split second before a two-hundred-pound mass topples me to the ground. I roll them away and pulse up onto my knees to watch the play unfold.

Ty sprints and launches forward to catch the ball before rolling onto the ground — smack dab in the middle of the brightly-lit end zone.

The crowd screams with victory and the world shakes from the sound of their feet pounding against the bleachers.

My eyes rush to the clock. Seven seconds. There are only seven seconds left in the game and we’re officially up eighteen points.

We’re going to win.

I throw up my hands and scream, along with the rest of my stadium. It’s hard to say who’s more shocked: our team, their team, or the crowd.

I look at Cary Pierce. He’s still standing there on the sidelines with his arms crossed. The only difference is that now he’s smirking — like he knew this was how it was destined to end all along.

My ears ring so badly that I don’t even hear it when the clock hits zero.

***

Ty hops up onto the bench and waves his hands around the locker room to get our attention. He’s still clutching the football but the man deserves to hold onto that for as long as he fucking wants.

“Party at our place tonight!” he announces, igniting a wave of shouts and hoo-rahs from the team. “Bring your booze! Bring your women and friends! Leave your inhibitions at the door!”

He hops off the bench and pats my shoulder, quickly realizing that I didn’t actually approve a giant post-game party at our shared residence.

“That cool?” he asks.

I laugh. “Of course.”

“John and I are hitting the liquor store on the way home. Want to follow us? We
might
need help physically unearthing the store from the ground and dropping it into our backyard.”

I lick my lips, tasting what remains of Eliza’s cherry flavor. “Actually, there’s something I have to take care of real quick but I’ll meet you at the house after.”

Ty stares at me with suspicion but he says nothing of it. “All right. I’ll see you there.”

I close my locker and bolt outside into the quad.

“It’s Junior!”

My feet barely hit the sidewalk before the screaming starts. Fellow students rush at me, their faces painted with school colors.

I pause, immersed in the strange glory of it all. I accept the high-fives and the selfies with various girls that can’t keep their hands off of me.

Holy shit.

We won one game.
One game.

The crowd chants my name and my face turns red. I push through them, grinning like a madman and listening to them scream my name over and over again.

I could stand here and take this all night but there’s only one voice I really want to hear screaming my name right now.

Luckily, the crowd doesn’t follow me very far. They’re all too eager to get a piece of every player that walks out of the athletic center, collecting selfies with them like novelty shot glasses.