The End Zone: SPORTS ROMANCE (Contemporary Sport Bad Boy Alpha Male American Football Romance) (New Adult Second Chance Women’s Fiction Romance Short Stories) Read online

  She turned back to the visitor parking lot and took out her phone. She could hear Chris coming closer to her and she warned herself not to be flattered. Even if the one football player she’d been in love with since college had been trying to flirt with her all day, she wouldn’t, couldn’t get involved.

  None the less, her pulse started to pound in her ears when Chris sat on the bench beside her.

  “So, I guess you’ve got to wait until all the kids get picked up, huh?”

  Michelle was still staring determinedly at her phone, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Chris nod in Deshante’s direction.

  “That’s usually how it works,” she said.

  “Mind if I wait with you?” he asked. “Even in the suburbs, it can get pretty dangerous after dark.”

  “You can wait if you want,” she answered. “But, I think I can take care of myself.”

  She heard him chuckle and the sound caused her to look up from her phone.

  “You think I can’t?” she asked defensively. Being the only girl in a family of boys, not to mention being a girl who liked football, she was used to being underestimated. And though she hated to admit it, she was still very sensitive to it.

  “I didn’t say that,” Chris said.

  “You thought it,” Michelle answered. She saw him open his mouth to respond but, before he could, a small voice interrupted him.

  “Mr. Watson?” it asked.

  Michelle looked up to find Deshante standing awkwardly in front of them. He was holding the football each of the kids had been given in his hands and twirling it awkwardly.

  “What’s up little man?” Chris asked with a smile at the skinny little boy.

  “I was wondering . . . I . . . I didn’t get a chance to ask you to sign my ball. Could you sign it now?” He held it out to Chris.

  “ Of course I will,” Chris said. He took the ball and reached into his pants pocket for a sharpie pen.

  “Your name’s Deshante, right?” Chris asked. Both Deshante and Michelle widened their eyes in surprise. There had been twenty kids at the workshop and the fact that he remembered this little boys name was astonishing.

  “You remember my name?” Deshante asked breathlessly, a bright smile creeping across his lips.

  “Yeah,” Chris said signing the ball with a flourish. “I remember because you reminded me of me when I was your age.”

  “Really?” Deshante asked.

  “People thought I was too skinny to play football too,” Chris continued. “I got picked on a lot by the bigger kids.”

  “What did you do?” Deshante asked. He moved close to Chris eager to hear the quarterback's advice.

  “I just kept playing,” Chris said. “I learned to tune them out. And when I got better, those guys started to respect me.”

  “Do you think that could happen to me?” Deshante asked hopefully.

  “You never know,” Chris answered. “Keep playing and we’ll see.”

  He handed the ball back to Deshante who took it gratefully. He then gave Chris the largest smile Michelle had ever seen from the small boy. He rarely smiled and had never talked as much to her as he just had to Chris.

  A moment later, a car bearing Deshante’s grandmother pulled up to the curb and honked its horn. Deshante thanked Chris and ran happily towards the car. Michelle watched the little black car drive away before turning to look at Chris.

  “Thanks for that,” she said. “That was really sweet of you.”

  “Not really,” he said. “It was true. I didn’t look like much when I was his age either. Just goes to show, huh?”

  “I guess it does,” she said.

  He smiled at her. It was that bright, white toothed smile that she had first fallen for. For a moment, she forgot that she was supposed to be steeling herself, putting up a wall, not letting the little crush she had on this man to get the better of her.

  Instead, she smiled back at him.

  “So, how are you getting home?” he asked. “You got a boyfriend or husband picking you up?”

  She rolled her eyes at the roundabout question then shook her head.

  “My car’s in the shop,” she answered honestly. “And my friend was supposed to pick me up but her kid got sick so she had to stay home with her.”

  “So how’re you getting home?” Chris asked.

  “I figured I’d just call Uber,” she answered pulling out her phone again. “There’s bound to be one out here.”

  “Aw, come on,” he said. “You don’t have to do that. My car’s in the covered garage, let me drive you.”

  Her heart began to pound in her chest once again, and looking into those blue eyes, remembering how bright his smile was, she was very tempted to take him up on the offer.

  Then she remembered why she couldn’t. So, she shook her head no.

  “Thanks, but I couldn’t ask you to do that,” she said.

  “It’s no trouble,” he said. “You live in the city right?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded yes.

  “Then you’re already on my way!”

  She knew she should protest again. She searched her brain and tried to think of a reason to refuse. At least, one that would not make her sound both presumptuous and paranoid. She opened her mouth to put in another argument when he beat her to it.

  “Look,” he said, “you shouldn’t have to pay to get back home. Besides, I had a good time with those kids today. So, let me take you home. Call it my way of saying thank you.”

  He smiled again and, even though she knew she shouldn’t, Michelle found herself smiling back once more.

  “Ok,” she answered.

  “Great,” he said. “This way.” He led her to the covered garage where a bright red and clearly brand new Ferrari waited for them.

  “Brand new,” Chris said proudly. “It’s got Wi-Fi, leather seats, backup assist. Anything you could want.”

  He stepped back admiring it and looked up at her. Clearly, he expected her to be impressed. Michelle smiled to herself when she realized she had an opportunity to shoot him down.

  “I’ve never been into cars,” she said. “They were always just things to get me from point A to point B.”

  She felt both proud and a bit guilty when she saw his face fall at that. He looked from her then back to the car, clearly at a loss for what to say next.

  “Ok then,” was what he settled for before moving around to the passenger side of the car.

  He opened the door for her and Michelle felt her heart flutter just a bit. Most men she knew didn’t bother opening doors as they thought that she wouldn’t want them to. They figured that she was one of the guys and wouldn’t appreciate such basic chivalry. When she looked up at Chris she found that she liked it very much.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly. She moved to get in and felt a thrill when he gently took her arm.

  “Watch your step getting in,” he said. “There’s a little bit of a dip.” He gently guided her in, his warm hand still wrapped around her arm.

  “Again, thanks,” she managed to mutter as she took a seat in the car.

  He smiled again and this one went all the way up to his blue eyes making them dance.

  Soon, too soon for Michelle, he let go of her arm and moved to the driver’s side of the car. Michelle noticed that the place where he’d touched her arm still burned with the warmth of his hand.

  The car ride home was surprisingly pleasant. Chris, it turned out, was interested in more than just how a girl got to be a coach. He also asked how she became an elementary school teacher, whether she’d always known that teaching was what she wanted to do, and what the kids she taught were like.

  She answered him with anecdotes from her fourth-grade classroom and their little league football team. She told him about funny things the kids said or the ridiculous expectations some parents had.

  In turn, she found herself asking him about playing football for UCLA. Was it hard balancing sports and classes? Did he want to get drafted to pla
y for the 49ers or was he secretly hoping for another team.

  He answered her with plenty of amusing anecdotes of his own about coaches, players, agents and managers. She found herself learning more about the NFL from Chris than she had in years of watching sports analysis.

  When they arrived at her apartment in the middle of the city, she was surprised that forty-five minutes had gone by. It seemed more like five.

  “Well, thanks for the ride,” she said. “I’m glad I didn’t have to pay some smelly stranger to bring me back.”

  “I’m glad too,” he said. “At least you think I smell good.”

  “I never said that,” she said with a small laugh. He chuckled with her for a moment and when it ended, she found herself still looking into his eyes, more than a little reluctant to leave.

  Finally, she took a breath and told herself that if she didn’t go now she never would.

  “Well,” she said as firmly as she could, “I guess I’ll see you around.”

  She turned and started towards her building.

  “Hey, Michelle,” he called after her, “wait.”

  Against her better judgment, she turned back to him. The car window was open and he was leaning over towards the passenger side.

  “I was wondering if maybe I could call you sometime,” Chris said. “We could get drinks or dinner or whatever.”

  Her heart sunk and she bit her lip. She knew what she should say, what she had to say. She knew she couldn’t get involved with anyone like Chris as her heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

  “Look,” he said before she could answer, “I promise I won’t prank call you in the middle of the night. I also promise I won’t give your number out to any of my friends.”

  He was smiling in a joking kind of way and she wanted to smile back. But, she still couldn’t quite force herself to do it.

  “I just really want to see you again,” Chris said. His smile was fading to be replaced by a sincere expression. It was something she hadn’t seen from him as of yet. Something very genuine.

  It was something that made her remember Deshante, the little outcast on her football team. She remembered what Chris had told him, how he had caused a smile to cross the boy’s face when no one else had been able to.

  Suddenly, she realized that she couldn’t refuse that sincere look no matter how hard she tried.

  “Ok,” she said moving towards the car. She gave him her number which he typed into his phone. He promised to call her during the week so that they could work out a date.

  As he drove away and Michelle walked slowly into her apartment, she prayed to god that she had not just made a huge mistake.

  *****

  Chris pulled up to the restaurant with his heart beating loudly in his chest. It had been one week since Michelle had given him her number and three days since he had called.

  They’d set up a date at a restaurant Michelle liked. It was called Millennium and apparently all the dishes were vegetarian or vegan.

  Alone in the car, Chris allowed himself a small chuckle. He had never eaten vegetarian in his life. Almost every meal he’d ever eaten had contained meat. The fact that he was putting his meat loving pride aside was, he decided, a sign of how much he liked this girl.

  Taking a deep breath, Chris finally got out of the car and allowed the valet to park it for him. Michelle would probably be waiting inside as she had insisted on meeting him there.

  As expected, when he got to the front door he found Michelle already waiting in the lobby of the dimly lit, high-ceilinged restaurant.

  She stood when he came in and gave him a bright smile that made her green eyes sparkle.

  When he looked down at the rest of her, his breath nearly caught in his throat. Her hair was down and lay in soft waves that framed her face. She wore dark skinny jeans that skimmed her long, shapely legs. A sparkling top glided away from her long, thin torso and the v-neck revealed just a hint of creamy peach cleavage. He swallowed hard before moving to her.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he said.

  “You clean up pretty well yourself,” she said.

  “Sorry, I’m late. Were you waiting long?” he asked.

  “Not really,” she said. “I asked if I could save the table for you but they don’t seat incomplete parties.”

  “I wonder if that’s true,” he said. “Maybe they just don’t want to serve a notorious meat-eater.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was glad to see that her smile was still present though.

  “You don’t have to be a vegetarian to eat here,” she said.

  “If you say so,” he quipped.

  Despite his concerns, they were seated without a fuss and the hostess left them with dinner and wine menus.

  “Do you feel like getting a bottle of Chardonnay?” he asked. “To celebrate my first ever vegetarian meal.”

  “No thanks,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “I don’t drink.”

  “You don’t?” he asked.

  She shook her head no.

  “I know,” she said. “Shocking right?”

  He almost agreed before realizing that it might make him sound like a bit of an asshole. So, he moved his face into a neutral expression.

  “Not really,” he said as evenly as he could. “In fact, it’s probably smart.”

  She gave him a half-smile that said she didn’t really believe him, but appreciated the effort all the same.

  Their server came and she ordered an iced tea. He thought about ordering a water or soda, something to make her feel a little less embarrassed, but the wine list was calling to him. So, he ordered a glass of his favorite Cabernet.

  “So, is the no drinking a recent thing or have you never had a drink?” he couldn’t help asking after the server brought their drinks and took their dinner order.

  She gave him a smirk that said she’d caught him at something.

  “I thought my drinking wasn’t that shocking,” she said, taking a sip of her tea.

  “It’s not shocking,” he said, “just interesting. And I meant what I said. You’re probably smart not to.”

  She gave a slight nod that told him she accepted his defense.

  “To answer your question,” she said, “I decided not to drink early on. I was about . . . eleven, I guess when I told myself I would never drink.”

  “Wow,” Chris said. “That is early.”

  “I guess so,” she said.

  “So, what happened when you were eleven?” he couldn’t help but ask. When her smile faded, he almost wished he hadn’t.

  “Sorry,” he said immediately, “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. All the same, she looked down and seemed to gather herself before speaking again.

  “When I was eleven,” she said, “my mom got her third DUI. Dad decided he couldn’t take it anymore and they got divorced.”

  She looked down at the table as she said all of this, as though she was afraid to show him what was happening in her eyes. She took two deep breaths before looking up at him again.

  “That’s when I decided I was never going to drink,” she said.

  “Your mom ever get better?” he asked quietly. The story hit much closer to home than he was ready to admit at the moment.

  “Not really,” she answered with a sigh, “she promised to go to AA meetings, tried to get clean, but nothing’s worked.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said honestly. “I guess I can relate. I kind of decided the same thing with drugs when I was younger.”

  He felt the words rush out of his mouth before he was fully aware of speaking them. He realized that this kind of discussion was not exactly first date appropriate. But after Michelle had told her story, and had seemed so open with him, it seemed only fair that he returned it.

  “What happened?” she asked gently. Perhaps guessing, rightly, that there was a story similar to hers behind the decision.

  “My mom was an addict,” he said simply. “Crack, meth almost anything you can
think of. I remember people coming in and out of our house at all hours of the day and night when I was little.”

  Now it was his turn to look down at the table as the memories flooded over him. Memories of his mother strung out on a chair and not moving for hours, or of having to get himself ready for school and make his own lunches when he was all of six years old.

  “Did she get better?” Michelle asked.

  She sounded so hopeful he almost didn’t want to tell her the truth. He wanted to tell her a beautiful redemption story about his mom's kicking her habit. A story where she had gone into a program which turned her life around, and of her being there to see him play football in the NFL. It was a dream he’d lived a thousand times in his mind. But that’s all it was, a dream. And one that would never come true, not now.

  “She overdosed,” he said. He heard his voice crack and felt embarrassed heat rush to his face when he realized that tears were beginning to fill his eyes. He couldn’t help it. He remembered coming in from school and seeing his mother lying on the carpet with a bottle of pills in her hand. He remembered calling the cops, then lying down and curling up next to his mother’s still body.

  “I was eight,” he said. “My grandma took me in after that.”

  Tears were flowing freely now and when he looked down at the table he realized that his hand was shaking. He tried to will it to stop but could not seem to move any other limb of his body to combat the shaking.

  Suddenly, he felt a small, warm hand reach out and cover his.

  When he looked up, he looked straight into Michelle’s eyes. She was giving him a watery smile. The tears streaming down her cheeks mirrored his exactly. She moved her hand to intertwine her fingers gently with his. He pressed his hand against hers as though she were an anchor saving him from an upcoming storm.

  He knew then, that he couldn’t let her go.

  *****

  Michelle didn’t know why she’d gone home with him. She hadn’t meant to. That was the whole point of meeting at the restaurant. The whole point of taking two cars. So that, at the end of the night, she wouldn’t be tempted. She would just say thanks for a fun night and be on her way. That’s fully what she’d expected to do.