The Red Zone: Second Chance Sports Romance Read online

  I lay on my bed in my underwear, wrapping the thick warm layers of covers all around me, insulating me from the cold of the outside world.

  “Can't I just do this for a living?” I asked aloud to the empty room, and couldn't help but laugh.

  I closed my eyes, and tried to let sleep come to me. If you'd asked me a few hours ago, I would have predicted I'd be out like a light the moment my head hit the pillow. Now though, the hamster wheels in my brain were churning nonstop, thoughts coming and coming, refusing to let me rest no matter how desperately I wished for it.

  I came close. Very close.

  But then I conjured up a setting. A tile room, fluorescent lights glowing above me.

  “Where am I?” I asked, to no one in particular, because there was absolutely no one around.

  I'd been clothed at first, wearing the thick coat and tan slacks I'd had on during my babysitting gig that night. I looked down, however, and all at once I was completely naked, save for a towel wrapped around my waist, covering only the lower half of my boobs, and barely making it down to my thighs.

  I took a hard swallow of air, feeling nervous.

  And then– the pitter-patter of water. I opened my eyes, highly on the alert.

  “Hello?” I asked, and inadvertently called up visions of Hitchcock's Psycho, the shrieking violins as the knife sank into my body, cutting me to pieces.

  But it was nothing so sinister– or perhaps, even more so...

  I slowly rounded the corner into the showers, one hand on the tile wall to steady myself. Only one of the faucets was running. A man stood below it, partly obscured by steam. I could make out his general form from behind, however. His massive frame. The twisting, labyrinthine musculature of his back, spine running like a trench down the center, leading my eye to the lusciously sculpted planes of his ass.

  And then he turned.

  I gasped at the blue eyes staring at me, his wet body seeming a masterpiece as he leered in my direction.

  “You shouldn't be in here,” he said.

  “I know,” I said sheepishly, casting my eyes down to the tile floor, though not yet leaving.

  Suddenly, he was approaching me. His wet feet slapped against the tile as he drew near, and my eyes rose in spite of myself. The cloud of steam vanquished from around his midriff, I saw that he was getting hard for me, his sturdy erection swaying and dripping as he came up close to me.

  My face was hot, my ears ringing, but I couldn't look away from him.

  He stared at me for an endless moment with those azure eyes, his dripping face utterly serious. Then, all at once, there was that same smile I'd seen on TV that night, his perfect lips looking more delectable in that moment than I'd ever witnessed them in real life.

  “But I'm glad you are...” he said quietly.

  Then he reached for me. He ripped the towel off of me, my naked body falling into him as every single shower in the facility burst on around us, flooding us with hot water and steam. We made out furiously, tongues twisting in one another's mouths, bodies dissolving into liquid, his strong, greedy hands falling down and down along the course of my body, sliding between my thighs, until at last–

  BZZZZZZ!

  I gasped awake, whiplashed, having been so certain of it all up until now.

  “Jesus Christ!” I gasped, my panties drenched, the space between my thighs still aching with unfulfilled desires. Lights and colors were flashing before my field of vision, making me dizzy as I lay there.

  I was going to have to go and take a hot shower now, if for no other reason than to take care of the feral tide of lust that had come over me thanks to my thwarted wet dream. I threw back the covers, and was about to traipse down to the hall into the bathroom, when suddenly I noticed that my phone was lit up on the bedside stand beside me.

  It clicked in my mind that it's vibrating had been responsible for waking me– and then the idea of vibration made me think of the object in the drawer just below it, and the tempting prospect of bringing it along into the shower with me...

  First things first, I unlocked the screen of the phone to see exactly who'd interrupted my NFL sex fantasy at this time of night. Then immediately my mouth fell open.

  There on the screen was a message from the clearly drunk Vanessa Stalworth, my best friend since high school, and sister of the very man who'd just laid his hands on me beneath the heat of an imaginary locker room shower.

  “Ger your ass 2 the city next Saturday bitch!! My big bro just won the f-ing super bol+ we're throwing a massiv party to celebrate!!! Every1 will be there! ur my plus 1 & dont u dare say NO! Get your nose out of Pride + Perjudis for just 1 nite!”

  I sat there staring at the screen for what felt like hours, never fully assured that I'd read the message correctly, no matter how many times my eyes scanned the words.

  Suddenly, it felt as though I'd just leapt straight out of one dream and into another– this one, somehow, even more surreal...

  2

  Luc

  I was on top of the world.

  I still couldn't help but stare in awe at the massive, diamond encrusted ring glinting from my right ring finger. I thought of all the blood, sweat, and tears that had gone into earning it (just kidding– men don't cry! Can you imagine???)

  I thought of all my missteps, all the pitfalls that had very nearly prevented me from reaching for the prize. My mind travelled to a year or two back, and the overdose that had very nearly taken my life, and that would almost certainly have taken my career if it had come to light at the time.

  But I'd fought against it all. My vices and my addictions. The womanizing that had seemed like a God given right with my initial rise to prominence in the sport, which I'd thankfully managed to grow out of along with my other bad habits.

  That was the one thing no one ever told you about fame. Or, maybe they tell you, but you don't take it seriously. Yeah, maybe that shit happens to the other guy, but I'm different. That can never happen to me.

  It really is lonely at the top. You spend your whole life wanting to get there, no matter what the cost. Then you're there, and there's still this hole. This big emptiness, that you have to figure out how to fill no matter what the cost. And now, guess what? You actually have the resources to afford all the shit that's bad for you, and that's what you turn to for answers. And believe me when I say, the results are never pretty.

  I'd hit the bottom more times than I cared to count or admit to, played some of the absolute worst games of my career when I was too strung out, to out of my fucking gourd to practice. I'd learned my lesson the hard way, before miraculously managing to come out on the other side whole and intact. And now I could say without a doubt, the high of the light as it caught the surface of my first ever Super Bowl was greater than any substance I'd ever pumped into my veins, or any good lay I'd had with a stranger and then forgotten about the next day.

  It was the high of achievement, of being rewarded for a job well done– a job done better, in fact, than virtually anyone on the planet.

  But even with all of this, I couldn't totally ignore the hollow feeling coming up from somewhere deep inside me.

  I gazed up from my ring, and put on a happy face, trying to descend from the stratosphere of my own existential thoughts and back down into the biosphere, with all the other partygoers swarming around me.

  I was the host, after all. The man of the hour. The man who'd scored the winning touchdown at the fifty-fourth annual Super Bowl.

  In other words, I was a big fucking deal.

  “Hey, Luc!”

  “Luc, my man!”

  “Luc! Luc! Luc! Luc!”

  “Hiiiii, Luc!”

  This last one from a pair of cheerleaders, a white blonde and a sexy black girl, the former speaking to many and the latter waving at me with an erotic tinkling of her fingers. They turned my head as they walked past, the scent of their perfume intoxicating, as was the view of their tightly wrapped backsides as they thrust through the crowd.

&nbs
p; My throat ached at the thought of winding up in bed with the two of them– a not unprecedented feat, but one which I'd tried to steer away from since getting clean. One vice could lead to another and another before you knew it, and tempting a prospect though it may have been, I didn't think it would be good for me.

  Anyway, the point was, anyone who was anyone was at this party, and I was at the center of it all. Everybody wanted me, as evidenced by the girls outside in the hot tub, waving at me through the glass door to the porch as one of them removed their bikini tops, and tossed it over the edge, laughing uproariously. Or else everyone wanted to be me, as I could see in the eyes of my teammates, or feel whenever they gripped my hand to shake it just a little bit too hard. They were champions too, of course, and they were glad that I'd helped carry us to victory. But in their defense, it was my game winning touchdown that had scored the most media attention in the week since the event in question. I'd been memed, namedropped, and otherwise referenced so many times that you'd almost start to think there were no Crusaders out there on the field– only a single Luc Stalworth, making the world go round.

  I smiled and waved to everyone I saw in passing, not caring to examine too closely the behavior going on all around me. There were a lot of avenues to temptation at this party, something I probably should have thought about a little bit more carefully when planning it.

  I kept myself moving steadily among the throng, not stopping for very long in any one place lest I get sucked into a black hole of old habits. I bumped into someone suddenly, said “Oh, sorry!” and received a harsh scowl in return. I did a double take as the woman passed in silence. “The hell? Was that a Kardashian?” I asked myself.

  And that, more than anything else, was when I knew that I'd truly made it in the world– although I wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good thing or not. God, I wished that I could tell them all apart...

  It was as I turned back from this momentary distraction that something else caught my attention. A pair of dark brown eyes, flashing at me through the crowd. Stunning eyes, which I remembered, but couldn't immediately place in this unexpected context. They were like– I don't know... A fawn's eyes, in a room full of wolves. Soft. Innocent. Vulnerable.

  They turned from me the instant I caught them, followed by a cascade of dark blonde hair pirouetting around a graceful, alabaster neck. A lump formed in my throat. I stepped forward, wanting to find out if I was actually seeing who I thought I was seeing. But the figure vanished into the crowd, completely out of sight, and before I could get any closer, my sister suddenly appeared from the thick of it, waving a hand to get my attention.

  “Hey! Hey, Superman! Awesome party, but I think Daryl and I are gonna get out of here and go back to his place!”

  One of my teammates had a huge arm wrapped around her, and my stomach tightened at having to think about what it was they planned to do after they left. Daryl sort of grinned at me, and I fought the urge to knock his teeth out for laying a hand on my sister, remembering at the last minute that she was a grown woman and didn't need me to protect her.

  “Great, have fun Vanessa,” I said, trying to banish these thoughts away from my mind as quickly as possible.

  “Oh, we will,” she said, leering up into Daryl's eyes, several feet away from her own. God, I thought, why don't you just get on all fours right here in front of everybody, give them all something to talk about...

  “Don't worry, I'll take good care of her,” said Daryl, and actually winked at me. I really did almost punch him this time. Vanessa stopped me before I had a chance, however, placing a hand on my shoulder, and raising her voice to outdo the increasing thud of the music in the background.

  “By the way, do you remember my friend Sylvia from high school? I brought her along with me to have some fun here tonight, and I think she's kind of pissed off at me for leaving early.”

  “Sylvia's here?” I asked, somehow surprised at the confirmation of a fact I'd already been suspecting.

  “Yeah, look out for her, will you? She's not used to being at a scene like this. I think her car might have gotten blocked in the driveway or something, so she can't leave until the place clears out some. Just keep an eye on her, could you?”

  “I– yeah, yeah, sure,” I said, trying to hide my enthusiasm at this information.

  “Great! Thanks!” she said, and the two of them set off through the crowd. Daryl's hand was down at the base of Vanessa's very skimpy dress, squeezing her ass as he grinned and gave me a peace sign over his shoulder. I flipped him the bird in return, and he simply laughed.

  I turned my attention back to the matter at hand, trying to figure out where Sylvia had gone to.

  Sylvia... A girl I hadn't seen in years, despite her remaining in constant contact with my younger sister. I'd had the worst crush on her back in high school. Like literally, the worst. I was always pretty good with the ladies in general– there were few periods throughout my adolescence when I was single, or at the very least not getting laid. But Sylvia always seemed to get me tripped up, in ways that other girls really didn't. She was so quiet, so unassuming, so beautiful in an effortless way– and in a way that she herself never really seemed to realize, or at least that was how I saw it.

  I knew how to deal with women who only wanted to conquer and be conquered. Women who knew they were hot stuff, or at least thought they were, and would go out of their way to sink their teeth into you.

  But Sylvia? My little sister's best friend on top of that? I never really quite figured out how to get from point A to point B with her, try though I might.

  I weaved my way through the crowd, and found myself stopped several times in conversation, by teammates, celebrities, and models trying to slip into bed with me.

  I began to grow exasperated, and was about to postpone my search until the party had cleared up some when I passed the glass sliding doors leading out onto the balcony, and saw a solitary figure leaning against the railing, silhouetted against the twinkling lights of the city beyond.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, breath frozen in my chest. Fuck, I realized. I was seizing up again. Ten years on, and this girl was as much a mystery to me as she'd been back in high school. I still didn't have a clue what to say to her...

  But then I looked down at the ring on my finger. The symbol of all that I'd achieved. I grinned, forcing myself to tap into a hidden reservoir of testosterone. I slid open the door, and stepped out onto the balcony behind her.

  She didn't even hear me at first, or at least pretended not to. I studied her for a moment, her thin body in a simple white dress, the bones of her shoulders protruding through an open back. Her dark blonde hair fluttered gently in the breeze as she leaned with her thin arms crossed on the railing.

  The scene was one that felt almost criminal to disrupt, but I started to worry that if I didn't say something now, I might never work up the nerve.

  “Gorgeous view, isn't it?”

  She started, sure enough not having realized I was in the vicinity.

  “Oh! God, you scared me!” she said, with a hand at the center of her chest, but she was smiling.

  I smiled too. “Sorry about that.”

  “That's okay,” she said shyly, those doe eyes falling down toward her feet.

  “Sylvia, right? Vanessa's friend? Sylvia Cole?”

  “That's right,” she said with a nod.

  “It's been a while, hasn't it?” I said.

  “It has, really,” she said with a nod. “Congratulations, by the way. On your big win. That's got to be– well, amazing!”

  “Why thank you,” I said, “It is pretty exciting.”

  “I was working during the game, but I got to see the highlights on the news. That last play... God, it was spectacular!”

  I laughed. “I've learned one thing pretty quickly. People are going to be bringing up that play for the rest of my life,” I joked. “But that's more than okay with me. If you're gonna be known for something, I guess I'm pretty proud of that.”


  “Rightfully so. I'm pretty sure you've earned your bragging rights.”

  I laughed. “Well, I dunno about that. What's funny is, in the moment it didn't feel like I was doing anything all that spectacular. I mean, I knew what I wanted to do, but I was sort of running for my life by that point. I wasn't sure I could even keep from falling on my ass, much less score the winning touchdown. But here we are.”

  “Here we are,” she said, turning away from me again.

  I studied her for a moment, thinking this might be where I lost the thread, as well as my nerve. I cleared my throat, though, and scoured my brain for more fodder.

  “I've gotta say, I was surprised when Vanessa told me you were here. She didn't tell me she was bringing you. Pleasantly surprised, of course.”

  “Yeah, well. I was surprised too when she left halfway through it and left me at a party where I don't know anyone. But here we are.”

  I laughed. “Hey, you know me,” I insisted, feigning offense.

  “Mm, loosely,” she said, and to my surprise there was a tone of flirtatiousness to her voice– something I never would have expected from the Sylvia Cole I'd known in school. She looked over her shoulder, smiling at me, and I grinned back. An unexpected shiver ran through me, and for the first time I noticed the opaque white clouds billowing up from my mouth and nostrils.

  “Aren't you cold out here?” I asked.

  “I'm alright,” she said with a shrug. “It was getting a little bit too crowded in there for me. I like things a bit quieter.”

  I frowned at her bony shoulders, and even in the dim lite I thought I could see goosebumps forming along her arms.

  “Well here then,” I said, slipping out of my Crusaders jacket, and handing it to her. “At least wear this.”

  She eyed the jacket, then looked up at me, one eyebrow raised.

  “Then won't you be cold?” she asked, and I smirked.