SPIKED (A Sports Romance) (6 page)

W
e walked
along in silence for the first few blocks— or at least, I did. Jacob didn’t speak to me, but every few feet someone called his name, or waved, or screamed and cheered for the Harton football team out of a moving car’s window. It wasn’t until we’d made it a fair distance away from the clubs that the streets became quieter— still busy, given that we were in the middle of Atlanta, but in an anonymous, hurried way.

“So. Tell me something about yourself,” Jacob said.

“What do you want to know?” I asked, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

Jacob shrugged beside me, admiring the buildings as he walked along, a king surveying his kingdom. “Well, I know you’re a freshman. You’re Piper’s roommate. You’re not straight out of high school though— you took a gap year?”

“I worked for a year,” I corrected— I wasn’t trying to impress Jacob, so why pretend like my life was glamorous? “As a waitress. To pay for school.”

“Ah. I understand,” Jacob said.

I lifted an eyebrow and looked at him. “Do you?”

“You clearly think I don’t. Why?”

“You’re here on a full scholarship, I assume.”

“I am, and I work for it every day. Sure, it’s a game, but I work to be good at that game every single day of my life. I’ve
been
working to be good at that game since I was six years old. I work to go to school too, it’s just at a different job than you did.”

I blinked at him, stunned.

Jacob seemed entertained by my reaction, and he half-grinned. “Look. We already have something in common.”

“Hardly,” I said, but I smiled as I did so. “What else do you want to know?”

“What’s your major?”

“Business, but I want to minor in anthropology. Actually, I want to major in that, but business is a more flexible degree and will be easier for me to complete on a three-year track,” I said, words rolling from my mouth easily— I’d explained this a half thousand times to everyone in Tifton, back when attending Harton was a dream rather than a reality. Speaking the words had always made it seem more attainable. I went on, “What about you?”

“I’ve changed a few times. Right now it’s accounting.”

I busted out a laugh that was far too loud and came dangerously close to a snort. Jacob looked delighted and appalled.

I couldn’t help it, as I tried to explain my inappropriate reaction. “Sorry, sorry— but you? You’re going to be an accountant? With like a little green visor?”

“Nah, I’m going to sign with an NFL team, with a large possibly-green helmet. But you’ve got to major in something if you’re in college.”

“But what if you don’t make it? Then you’ll
have
to be an accountant,” I said.

Jacob made a sound of pure disbelief. “Have you seen me play, Mime? I’m a fucking legend.”

“It’s Sasha. And I sold the tickets, remember?” I said primly.

“Ah, but you still watched me on TV,” Jacob countered knowingly.

I felt my cheeks light up. I grimaced and shook my head. “You win.”

“Always do,” Jacob said, and laughed.

We were coming up on tenth street; when we did a U-turn and started back on the sidewalk, our pace slowed, and I noticed Jacob was drifting closer to me. It sparked something in my chest— there was a very simple, basic want to step away from him, lest he knock me over by accident (it wouldn’t take much). But then there was also this want, this desire to carefully hit up against him, to feel how solid he’d be, like testing the solidity and firmness of ice on a lake.

“Why anthropology?” Jacob asked after a moment.

“I like people.”

Jacob lifted an eyebrow. “Not all people.”

I smiled. “I like
studying
people. The way people group themselves, the value systems that emerge in different cultures, how they clash with the systems of other cultures. Things like that. Like, for example: Coming to Harton, and clashing with the football culture here. I am so not a sports girl.”

Jacob put a hand to his chest, like he was offended; something about the action made me notice how long his fingers were. “Not a sports girl. How are you not a sports girl?”

I shrugged. “Never was my thing.”

“I’ll get you into football. It’s now a mission.”

“Don’t you have enough worshippers without me?” I laughed.

“Yeah, but I want you,” Jacob said. The words were bouncy, casual, but still, I felt my muscles tense and my breath catch. I avoided his eyes, waiting for the feeling to pass, and strongly suspected that Jacob not only noticed my reaction, but liked it.

“You tell me something now,” I said.

“It’s a rumor. The thing about girls sucking my cock before games.”

I froze on the sidewalk; Jacob took a few more steps before turning around to face me. “Seriously?” I asked.

“Yep. Though it’s awfully flattering that girls keep trying to get in line for it all the same. Pretty sure I
could
get a good one, every time, if I wanted—“

“Gross,” I said, waving a hand. “Stop.”

Jacob laughed and we started down the sidewalk again. “Piper is convinced it’s true,” I told him.

“Oh, I know. She’s been working on it for months.”

“Why not just tell her it’s a myth?” I said. “Myth” seemed the appropriate word, given Jacob’s infamy.

“What guy wouldn’t want to be reminded that beautiful girls want to suck him off?” Jacob asked.

“That is so gross.”

“The blowjob itself, or the idea of girls lining up for it?”

“The girls lining up.”

“So you’re fine with blowjobs, then,” Jacob finished, and I turned beet red— both because he’d said that, and because at that very moment, I had to admit that I was quietly thinking about what it would be like to give Jacob Everett a blowjob. I’d never done it before, so I wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it, but that didn’t stop the fantasy from ripping through me. Knowing the rumors of pre-game blowjobs were false made me want to make them true— made me want to do something that made him better on the field—

“But I don’t care about football,” I said, and then realized my words had been said aloud.

“So you told me,” Jacob answered. He stopped. “Well. We’re back.”

I looked around, surprised to discover that Jacob was right. We were back at the Manhattan, which seemed to have gotten infinitely busier while we were gone. Jacob didn’t move.

“Oh,” I finally said.

“But…” Jacob said, as he pulled a key ring out of his pockets. I tensed— he wasn’t going to ask me to his apartment, was he? Just because I’d been thinking about my mouth on his cock didn’t mean I wasn’t totally overwhelmed by the idea of being in his home.

“I could show you something, if you want. Something I promise will be void of football and any further mentions of sexual favors,” he said.

“What is it?” I asked. “And don’t say it’s a surprise. I’ve seen enough 20/20 reports to know better.”

Jacob looked exasperated— he clearly
had
intended to say it was a surprise— but then said, “I have access to all the athletic buildings on campus after hours, including the pool in the alumni resort.”

“What’s that?”

“That you’ll have to see for yourself— it’s not a surprise. I just can’t explain it. I’m a lowly accountant, remember?” Jacob said. “Want to go?”

I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

* * *

T
he alumni resort
was an enormous building that had clearly belonged to someone exceedingly wealthy— like, visiting royalty wealthy— at one time. It had been divided into rooms named after star alumni of the past, specifically, I suspected, those who had donated an insane amount of money to the school. We entered the main doors— no key needed— and brushed past a concierge who nodded and smiled at Jacob, then returned to his phone. I slowed down without entirely realizing it— it felt like I was in a movie. Gold and green decorations everywhere, ornate versions of the Harton Ram mascot on the stair rail, a fireplace with a portrait of the school’s and dozens of tufted leather armchairs surrounding it.

“I forget how nice it all is,” Jacob said, and I turned to look at him. He was smiling, watching me. “I’m used to being here. At this school. On the team. I forget how nice it all is.”

“I don’t see how,” I said, turning back. I heard Jacob exhale and then felt his hand slide over mine. My own fingers were tiny in his, and when I looked down, I realized he easily encapsulated my entire palm.

“Come on,” he said. “It gets better.”

He led me down a grand staircase, then through a spa-like locker room.

Finally, Jacob had a need for his key— there was a sign on the door ahead that said “Pool and Spa Open 6AM-9PM”. Jacob unlocked the door pushed through, guiding me through first.

“Oh my god,” I said, eyes going wide. It was the kind of pool that five star resorts have— salt water, I suspected, based on the cheerful acidic scent. The tile surrounding the pool was, of course, green and gold, and the lights underneath the water made them sparkle like gems. Above them were stars— the pool had a glass, greenhouse like roof and walls, which were surrounded by roses on the exterior, blocking the pool from view.

“I have never in my life stood somewhere this nice,” I said, overwhelmed. I turned to face him. “You can come here any time you want? Seriously?”

“Football star perk,” Jacob said, grinning. “I usually use it to swim laps, honestly. The pool tends to get crowded with fans when I go swimming.”

“Ah, the struggle,” I said, shaking my head, but I couldn’t stop the smile from taking over my face.

Jacob laughed and then sat down on one of the teak lounges. He immediately began taking off his shoes. I watched for a moment, then sat down on the one opposite and removed my shoes as well— it’d be nice to say I’d literally dipped my toes in the pool of wealth and fame.

But then, Jacob stood and stripped off his shirt.

It caught me by such surprise that I simply stared for a moment, first at the act itself, then at
him
. He looked like a statue, not a person— carved and muscled and smooth like marble. I wanted to drag my fingers along the lines of his stomach, the valleys underneath his hipbones, the place where his chest muscles curved up and met with his shoulders.

Jacob gave me a cocky smile that I almost missed, being so focused on his body rather than his face.

I tried to come up with something to say that would redeem me, but my mind felt empty. This seemed to further satisfy Jacob who, after studying me for a moment, unbuttoned his pants.

“What are you doing?” I asked frantically.

Jacob looked up, still smiling— he was always so damn pleased with himself. “Going swimming.”

“Naked?”

“Is that a request?”

I pressed my lips together. Yes, I most definitely
did
want to see Jacob Everett naked. But I definitely wasn’t going to say that out loud. When I didn’t answer, Jacob lifted his eyebrows at me mysteriously, then let his pants fall. To both my relief and sadness, he was wearing boxers underneath. He kicked his way out of the pants and then dove into the pool.

“Careful!” I shouted— it was a shallow pool, and my cautious instincts kicked the word from my mouth just before I realized Jacob had made the dive shallow, sending him slipping through the water just under the surface. He did a turn and emerged, glistening, on the other side.

“Coming?” he asked, shaking the water from his hair.

I took a breath. Swimming with a football star in a fancy pool was not exactly something I did on the regular. But Jacob looked so damn beautiful standing there, and I couldn’t deny the excitement, the heat that was kindling in me at the thought of being in the water with him. He was almost drug-like; at that first party, I’d just wanted more eye contact. After our walk, I wanted his hand on mine again. Now, that wouldn’t do— I wanted to be beside him, wanted to let my fingers brush against the muscles of his back.

Besides, bras and panties weren’t all that different than bikinis, right?

My fingers shook nervously as I carefully wrapped my arm around my back and tugged the zipper of my dress down. It went loose around my shoulders; when I looked back to Jacob, I saw he was watching, unflinching, waiting for the moment the fabric fell away.

I wanted him looking, I realized, and even though the thought embarrassed me, it also elated me. I shrugged my shoulders and my dress slipped down to the floor.

Jacob made a noise— a sort of satisfied, quiet groan. I stepped away from the puddle of my clothing and walked to the staircase that lead into the water. I stepped in cautiously, letting it cool me, though even the water’s temperature wasn’t enough to quench the now steady fire in my chest.

“Come over here,” Jacob said. He was so calm, so steady, and it made me incredibly aware of how jittery I felt. I lowered myself deeper into the water and swam toward him, stopping a few feet away.

Jacob let his eyes wander down my body unapologetically. My first instinct was to cover the areas I was least confident about— my stomach, mostly, which wasn’t nearly as ripped and tight as his. But there was something about the way he was looking at me that made me feel more sure of myself— more certain that he wasn’t judging, but rather, appreciating.