Johnny Deeper: A Sports Romance (26 page)

I scoff. “Like what?”

“Like how you’re definitely not a virgin. You didn’t even flinch when I removed my towel.”

“You found a non-virgin on a college campus?” I mock. “You’re fucking
magical
.”

“You also touched me without even hesitating,” he continues. “Tells me you know
exactly
what to do with it and honestly, I’m
dying
to find out what you can do.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really.”

“Fat chance.”

He chuckles. “You also said you wouldn’t blush when you thought of me flirting with you. Did you?”

I open my mouth to lie but my gut stops me. He’s expecting a denial but that would just prove his point and telling the truth would only vindicate him.

“Your silence is very loud, Eliza Pierce,” he says, briefly flashing his entire groin at me as he re-wraps his towel. “Makes me wonder how loud you can be in other ways.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“I guess we will.” He slides back towards his locker and pulls out his clothes. “You’re willing to stay and watch me get dressed, if you want.”

“Nope.” I brush past him, catching a quick whiff of his fresh deodorant, possibly some lingering cologne in the air as well.
Fuck, he smells good for a sweaty manwhore.

“I’ll see you tonight, then.
Wait…”

I pause near the door, spinning back in a huff.
“What now?”

Junior follows me to the door, clutching his towel as he reaches for the handle. “Hang on…” He gestures for me to stand back and he opens the door, peeking out into the hallway like a professional look-out. “It’s clear. Wouldn’t want
daddy
to see you walking out of here, would you?”

My lips curl on their own. “Thanks,” I say. “That’s very thoughtful.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am a little.”

He holds the door open for me. “Get used to it.”

I blink once, torn on whether to genuinely thank him again or issue a snarky comeback. I choose silence instead, nodding softly as I step through the doorway.

It closes behind me and I take a deep breath of cold, crisp, air-conditioned freedom, hoping it chills the dancing nerves inside of me.

My phone vibrates again in my hand. This time, I answer the call. “Hey, Dad.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the athletic center looking for you—” I round the corner and come face-to-face with him. “And I found you!”

He sighs and lowers his phone from his ear.

“Sorry I missed your call,” I say, pulling a lie right out of my ass. “I was in the ladies’ room and—”

“Why are you wet?”

I freeze.
“What?”

He juts his chin, gesturing down at my shirt.

Shiiiit.
Junior Morgan’s hard, moist chest imprinted on my damn blouse.

“Oh!” I roll my eyes. “I spilled some water on me earlier. Still hasn’t dried yet…”

He shrugs and nudges towards the stairs. “What are you in the mood for? Salad, deli sandwich?”

I frown at his options. “Burgers.”

Dad grins with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Chapter 5

Junior

Eliza Pierce touched my dick.

I’ve been to two classes since then but I honestly can’t tell you what happened in either one.

All I can think about is the way she quivered when I pressed her against those lockers. Pink cheeks. Glistening, sinful eyes. If the coach hadn’t of come in at that moment, she probably would have dropped to her knees and—

I feel a sharp punch on my shoulder, instantly bringing me out of my Eliza spiral.

“Hey, little brother.”

I glance up from my table and I smile. “Hey, Mag.”

Maggie slides into the chair across from me with a cup of cart coffee in each hand. “What are you doing over here?” she asks. “You’re staring off into space like a crazy person.”

Maggie is four years older than me but she ages so well that most people think I’m older than she is. She’s got that cutesy vibe to her, along with a child-like voice and baby-fat cheeks, so she’s always had an issue with people not taking her seriously. Luckily, she’s got me and I’m more than willing to correct anyone that even scoffs in her direction.

“Just killing time,” I shrug, glancing around the very active student union food court. It was just coincidence that I happened to walk in here at the same time Eliza and her dad did. She hasn’t noticed me even though I’ve been gawking at them from across the room for the last twenty minutes.

She raises an eyebrow. “Wanna talk about it?”

And that’s Maggie. She got her degree in Psychology before I even set foot here and she’s going through the graduate program now but she’s had a thing for Freud since we were kids. She was my very own Lucy from Charlie Brown, charging me a nickel for every problem of mine she solved.

“There’s nothing to talk about yet,” I claim.

“But we’re almost
two weeks
into the semester,” she argues. “Surely, you have some girl problem to throw at me.”

I feel Eliza’s phantom touch on my cock and my eyes twitch across the room at her. The coach says something and she laughs back at him, although I can’t really tell if it’s genuine or forced. “I have a date tonight,” I say. “Maybe I’ll have something for you at lunch on Sunday.”

Maggie rubs her palms together. “Ooh, a date tonight? With whom?”

“Wait until
Sunday
, Mag,” I tease.

She sits back in disappointment. “Fine. Here—” Her hand slides the second coffee across the table at me. “You can have this. Nate was supposed to meet me ten minutes ago but he’s not here yet, so it’s forfeited to you.”

“Thanks.” I palm the cup, letting the warmth tickle my fingers. “What’s he up to nowadays?”

“Same old, same old,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes.

I laugh. Maggie met Nate three days into her freshman year and they’ve been dating ever since. They’re ridiculously happy together and possibly the very definition of relationship goals but Maggie secretly wishes she’d experimented a little before latching onto him so fast. That’s why she grills me about all my hook-ups at our weekly Sunday lunches — she lives vicariously through my many, many mistakes.

My eyes float to Eliza again and a shock teases my system. She’s looking right at me but she quickly looks away the second we make eye contact.

“Is that the new coach?” Maggie asks, pointing across the room at their table.

“Yeah, that’s him.” I shift my gaze to him instead. “You should have heard the squeal in Dad’s voice when I told him who my new coach was…”

“I can imagine,” she chuckles, taking a sip from her coffee. “Who’s the girl?”

“I don’t know.”

I force a shrug, feeling the rush of words filling my throat. Talking to Maggie about my problems is just about the only good habit I have but I don’t want her analyzing Eliza Pierce right now. “Look, I gotta get going. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye, little brother.”

“Bye, Mag.” I slide the untouched coffee back over to her and she takes it to give to Nate.

I tell myself not to look at Eliza as I make my way for the exit but my eyes get drawn to her anyway like a damn moth to a flame. Apparently, she has the same problem. She watches me walk away and I’m pretty sure her eyes flick downward at least once to check me out.

I smile. Tonight, I’ll have her pinned again. Tonight, I’ll feel her body quiver against—

“Hey—”

I walk right into some guy and he drops his textbook to the floor.

“Watch it,
dick
,” he spits at me, quickly bending over to grab his stuff.

“Sorry,” I say. I keep my head down and bolt out the exit, just knowing that Eliza’s piercing blues caught the entire thing.

First that tackle at practice and now
this
…

If I could stop embarrassing myself in front of Eliza Pierce… that’d be
great.

***

I open the door to Talon Hall and quickly realize that I’ve never actually been in here before.

Talon is exclusively for the more artsy majors like theatre and music, so I’ve never had a reason to go in. Meeting up, and possibly
hooking up,
with Eliza Pierce is more than a good enough reason to go in now so I’ll risk the embarrassment of being seen. Although, I doubt I’ll be seen by anyone important in this crowd.

After a few minutes of wandering the huge lobby, I make it to the double doors of the auditorium. My ears perk up to the sound of echoing voices inside and I instantly recognize Eliza’s deep, yet wickedly feminine, tone.

Then the voices get louder and I pause, realizing that she’s arguing with some guy.

I pull open the auditorium doors. She’s up on the stage, her face contorted with anger and sadness as this punk screams at her. He’s tall, nearly as fit as I am, and perfectly capable of hurting her if he wants to.

“Do you see what you did, eh?! You made a fool outta me.”

“I’m sorry!” she cries. “I don’t know how many times I can say it…”

I step faster, bounding up towards the stage.

“Say it again,” he challenges. “Say it like you mean it this time or so help me—” He grabs her arm and she winces with pain.

“You’re hurting me!”

“Good!”

“Hey!”
I launch up onto the stage and step between them, forcing the guy away from Eliza with a hard push with my palm.
“Leave her alone.”

He looks at Eliza and they both burst into laughter.

“It’s okay, Junior…” Eliza guides me away from him. “We’re just rehearsing a scene.”

“And I guess we nailed it,” the guy nods, his tone suddenly soft as clouds.
“Finally.”

“I told you we needed to make it more aggressive,” she says to him.

“Wait…” My eyes bounce between them. “That wasn’t real?”

“No,” he says, “but that sudden burst of powerful masculinity certainly was…” He rubs my shoulders and his hand lingers for a second too long.

I pause, trapped between extreme embarrassment and awful confusion.

Eliza clears her throat. “Junior, this is Grant. I doubt you’ve met before.”

“Not officially,” Grant confirms. He glances me up and down once before looking back at Eliza. “Anyway, I’m going to call it a night. You two have fun — but not too much. That’s my job.” He winks as he bends over to grab his backpack off the floor.

“Bye, Grant,” she says.

He hops off the stage and heads for the hallway exit, giving Eliza plenty of time to stare me down, amusement bleeding from her eyeballs.

“Now that we have the unsolicited
chivalry
portion of tonight’s events out of the way—”

“Hey—” I defend. “Anyone could have walked in here and got the same idea I did.”

“I know,” she chuckles. “Grant and I are auditioning for the leads in the fall play, so we’re pulling out all the stops — the more intense, the better.”

I study her face. Her cheeks are still pulsing red but her eyes show absolutely nothing of the fear I saw before. One snap of her fingers and it’s all gone, almost as if it never existed at all. “You all right?”

She waves her hand and bends over to grab a bottle of water from her bag. “I’m fine. The adrenaline will wear off soon.”

I take a breath, feeling my own bit of adrenaline firing through me. The way I leapt up there to defend her… I’ve never done that before. I’m not sure how I feel about it, honestly.

“So… you have a tryout?”

Eliza laughs mid-sip, nearly spilling water down her chin. “I have an
audition
.”

“What’s the difference?”

She pauses for a moment. “Nothing, I guess.” Her head tilts as she slips her messenger bag onto her shoulder. “Come to think of it, there’s really not much of a difference between what you do and what I do at all.”

I glance around at the stage. Red curtains and a grand piano. “It’s
completely
different…” I argue.

“How?”

I smirk. “I play
football
, Ellie.”

“So?”

“So…” I shake my head. “One is
football
and the other is… a little performance on a stage.”

Her face twists. “Isn’t that what football is?”

“No,”
I argue. “Sports are about strategy and anticipating the opponent’s move before it even happens. I have to train hard to do what I do.”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “And I don’t?”

I stand up taller. There’s no way I’m wrong about this. “I’m in the gym five times a week.”

“So am I. You’re going to stand there and argue that actors aren’t scrutinized over every bit of their appearance? Pound for pound, I’m probably judged more than you are.” 

“Okay…” I blink, yanked off course by the logic in her reasoning. “But my team counts on me to be in shape. I have to be where I’m supposed to be, when I’m supposed to be there, or we don’t win.”

“I have to hit every cue, memorize every word of my lines
plus
 everyone else’s,” she says, her voice steady as a rock. “I have to live and breathe this place for weeks before opening night because if I don’t, then everyone will notice every missed step, every skipped line, and my crew will judge me for it — same as you. You memorize a few plays, you stand out in the field every weekend, and you perform for the crowd. It’s the same thing.”