Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Pass To Win Book 1) (3 page)

I
have never felt so
awful in my entire life. My mouth was completely dry and even the simple act of blinking made my head pound. I found a lukewarm glass of water on my side table. I took a sip and nearly gagged.

Prior to this moment, I’ve only been blackout drunk once in my life. It was my twentieth birthday and I was trying too hard to fit in with all of the seasoned drinkers. The party was at my home, so I just walked to my bed and went to sleep when the party was over.

The only memories I lost were two guys making bets on who was going to sleep with me at the end of the night. Honestly, I’m glad I don’t remember that.

I struggled to come up with recollections from last night. I remember dancing with Donny, with his wandering hands and sweaty torso. I remember being annoyed at Martin for some reason.

I remembered some foul tasting shots, and then I quickly tried to put the memory of alcohol out of my head before I was sick. So how did I get home and into bed? There’s usually an after party for these things, so maybe I went to a dorm and had more drinks.

I could hear Sasha in the kitchen, but I was afraid that I would throw up if I opened my mouth to call for her. I pursed my lips and groaned as loud as my body would allow. This caught her attention.

“Good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty,” she said.

“What time is it?” I groaned.

“One-thirty. I was going to bring you breakfast, but figured that you needed to sleep.”

“What happened last night? How did I get home?”

“You drank a ridiculous amount of alcohol. Then, you took Martin up on his offer to go to his after party. I came back here with Reg and we were hanging out on the couch when Martin came in with you draped over his shoulder.”

“Wait, what?”

“He said you threw up outside of the bar and you refused to move. He wasn’t going to leave you there, so he picked you up and carried you back here. He even took your shoes off and tucked you into bed. It was pretty sweet, really.”

“Are you kidding me? And what was I doing while this was happening?”

“Well, you were passed out when he came in. But I heard you talking to him in your bedroom, so you must have woken up at some point.”

I groaned. “What did we talk about?”

“I couldn’t hear very well, but at one point, I think you called him an asshole. But, then you also said he was nice, so I’m not exactly sure what all was said.”

A whole new wave of nausea washed over me. How could I ever look him in the eye again? I was terrified that I said something extremely embarrassing to him.

Did he try to make any moves on me? Or maybe worse, did I try anything with him? The only way to find out was to talk to Martin, but I wasn’t about to do that. Maybe we could forget all about it if it were never spoken of again.

“Martin must have been pretty wasted too, right?” I asked hopefully.

“No, he seemed pretty sober,” Sasha replied.

My head fell back on my pillow. So much for him blacking out too.

“You look terrible,” Sasha said. “I’m going to the store. I’ll pick up a sports drink and some crackers for you.”

“Thank you,” I said weakly.

“Go easy on yourself. You’re not the first college student to blackout, it happens to the best of us.”

“Yeah, but I completely embarrassed myself,” I cried.

“Oh, and go easy on him too. He’s a good guy,” she said.

“I’m not so sure about that,” I replied.

“He carried you all the way home from the bar. How is that not nice?”

“Well, then he’s been nice to me once in the past four years.”

“You know he’s into you, right?”

I shook my head. “I saw him talking to a girl last night. They looked pretty close.”

Sasha laughed. “I think that was just his cousin.”

“Gross. He would be in love with his cousin.”

Sasha gave me an exasperated look and sighed. She walked out of my room and gently shut the door behind her.

I didn’t know how to explain my level of shame to her. I wasn’t that upset about throwing up and having to be carried home. I was no stranger to crazy party girls; I grew up with a lot of those types. Why did it have to be Martin? I have classes with him and we have mutual friends. There was no way I could forget that I let my guard down around him when I see him regularly.

I dug through my purse and eventually found my phone. Luckily, I didn’t make any drunken phone calls or send any text messages. Maybe it was best to address the situation head on and then move on. I started typing out a message to Martin.

Hey, I heard some stuff about last night and I’m not proud of it but I-

I erased the draft and started over.

Thanks for taking care of me last night

I quickly backspaced. I didn’t want him to think there were any feelings involved in anything that happened last night.

Sorry about last night, I just want to put this behind me

I turned off my phone and tossed it on the ground beside me. I should know better than to send a message to a boy the night after a party. It was nothing but an invitation to talk more. I wanted the opposite. I didn’t want to feel like I owed him anything, especially an explanation.

In that moment, I decided it was best to ignore him. He wouldn’t notice any difference and I could preserve the last shred of dignity I had. If I could forget about him, I could forget about telling him that he’s nice.

I groaned and shielded my face from the sun with one of my pillows. If I could forget the events of the night once, surely I could forget them again.

M
y head was still buzzing
from the weekend’s excitement on Monday morning. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that I saw a vulnerable side to Alexa Hall. She tries to appear so perfect, but it was nice to see that she’s human too.

I was excited to see her in Sociology class. I couldn’t sleep last night because I was thinking about what I would say to her.

She always sat directly in front of me, so maybe I would lean down and whisper something in her ear. It would be like an inside joke between us. Or, I could just flash her a seductive, knowing smile and watch her blush. I don’t mean to brag, but it’s too easy for me to make girls blush.

Maybe I’d just go for it and ask her out. Say something about how I want to spend another night with her that ends with both of us being conscious. I was nervous, but it was the perfect moment. I really felt like we made a special connection Saturday night.

I got to the classroom a little earlier than normal to make sure I had enough time to talk to her before the lecture started. I was feeling a bit anxious, but ready. It was now or never.

A few minutes passed. She was usually in her seat by now, with her notebook and pen out, ready to take notes. Her hair always draped over the back of her chair. Sometimes, a few locks would fall onto my knees and I would carefully brush them away with my finger.

The professor entered and began the lecture. No Alexa. I figured she must be sick. Maybe her hangover was so bad that she was still not feeling well today. I was a little concerned. I pulled out my phone and texted her.

Are you sick? Do you want me to take notes for you? We can meet up later and I’ll fill you in on what you missed in class.

I hit send. This was just as good. It would give me a perfect reason to see her again. Because it had to do with school, she would never accuse me of trying any funny business with her.

I checked my phone a few minutes later. No response. Poor girl, maybe she was really sick. Would it be weird if I showed up at her dorm later? Maybe with flowers or chicken soup and apologize to her for getting her so drunk?

I tried to take good notes, but I kept getting distracted. I was daydreaming a hundred different scenarios where I approached Alexa and she was so thankful that I took care of her that she wanted to show her appreciation. Any possibility from a nice dinner, to a kiss, to a night in my bed—I thought of them all.

Before I knew it, class was over. I followed the herd of students exiting through the door in the back of the classroom. That’s when I saw Alexa, quickly stuffing her books in her bag. She never sits in the back row of classrooms. That’s where the slackers sit, and she was definitely not that. I called out to her, but she was already lost in the crowd.

I felt confused. I was so nice to her and I really thought she had a good time with me. She wanted to come back to my place, and when that obviously didn’t happen, she told me I was nice. That’s a lot coming from this girl. She seemed to have a general mistrust of men, and I thought I had finally broken through by proving to her that I just want to be good to her.

Now I was angry. I texted her with concern about her well-being and she didn’t even have the decency to respond? She deliberately avoided me and ignored me when I wanted to talk to her. I could have any girl I want, and she knows that. Did she hate me so much that she couldn’t even look at me?

I was right. My friends told me that she was worth pursuing, and they were totally wrong about that. She was a cold person. She only cared about herself. Of course she would, though. Girls who come from money never have interest in guys like me. I was stupid to think that this was going to work out.

I fumed the whole way back to my dorm. It was probably better this way. Before long, the school year would be over. I didn’t have time to chase girls, anyway.

I needed to focus on finishing up my degree and preparing for the professional football combine. With any luck, I would be moving, and she’d go back to her hometown, or wherever rich girls go when they graduate with a degree they’ll never use.

I was done with Alexa Hall. I had been turned down by plenty of girls in my life, and it was no big deal. I was just so surprised that she, of all people, wanted nothing to do with me.

In my anger, I typed out a text, my fingers shaking.

Sorry I made sure you got home safely the other night. I didn’t think it would upset you this much. Next time, I’ll leave you on the street, puking your guts out.

My finger hovered over the send button before I quickly deleted it. I didn’t need to make things worse than they already were. I decided to take a page from Alexa’s book and just ignore her too. I’ve been dumped many times for doing the wrong thing with girls. This was just the first time I was ever rejected for doing the right thing.

“
S
asha
, everything is terrible and nothing is good.” I declared when I came home from class.

“That seems a little dramatic,” she said.

“If you understood, you would agree. My parents are coming to take me out for dinner this weekend.”

“Yeah, you’ve lost me,” she said.

“They’re bringing Sebastian with them,” I sighed.

“Is he the one that your mom is trying to set you up on a date with?”

“It’s worse than that. She constantly refers to him as my future husband and is already talking about wedding plans.”

“That’s messed up. I didn’t think that people still had arranged marriages in this country, but I guess I don’t know what rich people do in their spare time.”

I rolled my eyes at her. My mother has done this before and it’s extremely awkward to go on a double date with a guy you’re not attracted to- and your parents. I was excited to spend some time with my dad, but I was dreading seeing my mom and Sebastian.

Sebastian and I knew each other growing up. Our parents were friends and our mothers always conspired to hook us up. I actually did date him for a while, but there was no spark. We had completely different interests, and I felt like he was always talking over me.

To be honest, I didn’t find him attractive. I try not to be a shallow person, but how can you be in a relationship with someone when you can’t even bear the thought of being intimate with them?

The only reason my mom wanted me to marry him was because he’s going to be a lawyer in a few years. Once he graduates from Harvard Law, he’ll join his father’s firm. I’ve explained to my mom a million times that I don’t need a man’s money to take care of me.

I fully planned on using my degree to get a job after graduation. She scoffs every time I mention working.

“Do you think I can be a housewife?” I asked Sasha.

“Ha, not a chance. You would be bored after a week of sitting around the house.”

“It’s not just that,” I said. “I would also have to spend time with the other housewives. We would have to talk about our vacation homes and our clothes, and how impressive our child is on the violin. The thought of it makes me want to scream.”

“Why don’t you tell your mom that you want nothing to do with Sebastian?” Sasha asked.

“I have. That’s what makes it so frustrating. I tried to date him. It just didn’t work out.”

“Does he know that it’s not going to work out?”

“Sebastian?” I asked. “I hope so. I assume he’s just coming to dinner to appease his annoying mother, too.”

“What if he’s in love with you?” Sasha asked.

“He probably is, but that doesn’t mean I want anything to do with him.” We both laughed.

“Are you sure you don’t want to have babies with Sebastian and never work a day in your life? Maybe you should introduce me to Sebastian.” Sasha teased.

“Gross,” I laughed. “That baby would come out of the womb, already dressed in a three-piece suit with gold cufflinks. I want kids, but just not with him.”

Life with Sebastian would be easy. I would never have to worry about money.

All of my material possessions were handed to me. I wasn’t sure if I fully understood what it was like not to have unlimited funds to do whatever I wanted. I didn’t consider myself to be as materialistic as my mother, but I had never lived a “normal” life, either.

What if I was like an animal in a zoo, and my mother was trying to keep me in captivity, because she knew I wouldn’t survive in the wild? I tried to shake that thought out of my head.

In a way, I felt bad for Sebastian, too. He wasn’t a bad guy, and he probably found these encounters to be pretty awkward as well. I had a suspicion he wasn’t over me, which made it seem especially cruel that I continued to turn him down.

There was a time where I could have had feelings for him. One summer, during high school, we talked while in the Hamptons with our families. I had just caught my boyfriend cheating on me, and I was devastated.

He found me alone one night at the beach, crying about that stupid boy who had broken my heart. He was older and more mature than any of the boys I hung around. He told me that I shouldn’t let men have such a negative effect on me, and comforted me as I cried.

I will always be grateful for what he told me that night, but things just didn’t work out between us. I didn’t love him now, and I didn’t know if I ever would. I can’t risk being trapped in a passionless marriage for the rest of my life, even if it means I would have financial security and social status.

“Sasha, what should I do about this dinner? Can I just call them the day of and tell them I’m sick?”

“Not unless you want them pounding on our door,” she replied.

“I just have a bad feeling about it,” I said.

“No one can force you to marry anyone you don’t want to. Just eat your caviar or whatever you people eat, and stand your ground.”

I wasn’t so sure she was right about that. She had never fought with my mother. My mom always got her way. She’s a woman who knows what she wants, and will not stop fighting until she has it. It would be an admirable quality, if she didn’t use it to control my life.

When I was younger, my mom demanded that I take part in the debutante ball. According to her, it was just a natural part of life, like puberty or old age. I didn’t want to do it, because their dance and etiquette classes conflicted with my gymnastics class. I wanted to be the best cheerleader, and couldn’t have cared less about being presented as a part of her society.

After weeks of fighting, I found out that she anonymously reported some sort of health and safety violation at my gym, and it was closed for renovation for months. Just enough time to take part in the activity she chose for me. She’s a smart woman, but I’m a little scared of her power over me.

The only reason she was ever remotely okay with me being a cheerleader is because it often attracts the attention of men. To even get on the team, you have to be slim and muscular enough to perform the stunts, while still looking good in the uniform.

You also have to be pretty enough to be shown on television. She didn’t like the idea of me going to college to get a real education, but if I had to be here, she wanted me to get as much male attention as I could.

“You have the weirdest problems,” Sasha said as she looked up from one of her textbooks. “Too many boys like you, and your rich parents give you too much money in exchange for wanting to marry you off to a rich husband.”

“Trust me,” I said. “You would see it differently if it was your reality.”

I hadn’t thought about Martin until that moment. My mom would have a stroke if she saw me with a guy like that. He probably came from a boring, middle-class family with no vacation homes or boats. I bet they didn’t even own horses. It would be a dream to watch my mother’s expression if I even mentioned seeing a boy of his caliber.

But not Martin. Maybe someone like him, but not that particular boy. I didn’t want to think about him, but everything reminded me of the night of the football game. I thought about responding to the text he sent me during class, but I didn’t know what to say. I can’t just tell him that I’m ignoring him to protect myself.

That makes me look like a terrible person. I can’t tell him how embarrassed I am because I’m Alexa Hall. I don’t like to be wrong about anything and I certainly can’t appear vulnerable.

I mostly felt confused because I didn’t even like Martin. I shouldn’t feel guilty or embarrassed or upset in any way. If I didn’t like him, where was all of this coming from? I put on my headphones in an attempt to block out the conflicting thoughts with music. I picked up a book and tried not to think about boys or my mother or my future as a housewife. Maybe Sasha was right—I do have the weirdest problems.