Blind Side: A Fake Dating Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)

“Watch, watch!” I yelled to Dane at our next game, pointing to where a wide receiver had just jogged from in front of me, down the line, to land in front of him, instead. He nodded affirmatively, and I bent low, fingers wiggling at my sides as I glared at the player across from me through the metal of my helmet.

There were only twenty seconds left on the clock, and we were beating the Philadelphia Lions by three points. But if they got close enough to kick a field goal, we’d be going into overtime.

I was not going into overtime.

Especially not on my birthday.

“Shut it down, boys!” someone screamed from the sidelines. It sounded a lot like Zeke, and I sank even lower in my crouch, determination prickling my skin.

The ball was snapped, and the quarterback fell into the pocket with his eyes scanning. They needed at least fifteen more yards to be in a good field goal position, and it was third down — so I knew he would launch it.

His eyes flicked to the receiver who had gone down by Dane, but Dane was on him like white on rice. So the QB kept searching, and when our defensive line started to break through, he panicked, launching the ball down the middle of the field.

I kicked against the turf as hard as I could, juking the receiver I was covering to run toward the tight end who was wide open. Dane caught on a second after I did, but he was too late. Even after he started running, I knew he wouldn’t get there in time.

So I dug in deeper, harder, my thighs and calves screaming in protest as I gave it everything I had.

Then, out of nowhere, one of our defensive linemen hopped up from where he’d been pushed back into our zone, and he tipped the ball.

It wobbled, spinning off target, and without hesitation, I leapt into the air and snagged it before the offense could even realize what was happening.

The roar of the crowd assaulted me as I landed, spinning just in time to avoid a tackle, and sprinting the opposite way down the field. My lungs were on fire, ribs aching, but I kept on, glancing behind me to find the opposite team on my tail.

“Go! Go! Go!”

Riley’s distinct voice pierced through the noise, and I pushed harder, glancing up to see the clock was about to run out.

And it did.

Right as I crossed over into the end zone.

“TOUCHDOWN REBELS!” the announcer bellowed, and our home team went absolutely insane as I puffed my chest and threw the ball into the stands. I was bombarded by my teammates in the next breath, my helmet being smacked hard enough to concuss me as they hyped me up. Then, before we could get in trouble from the coach or the officials for too much celebrating, we all jogged toward the sideline, only to be encompassed by reporters.

It was madness, and I fielded through each question that was thrown at me until I couldn’t take anymore. It was my fucking birthday, and I didn’t want to spend all of it answering the same shit over and over, but I also didn’t want to be a pain in Giana’s ass. So, I politely answered and then politely excused myself and made my way into the locker room.

“Way to end the game, you showboating sonofabitch,” Holden said when I dipped inside. He grinned, smacking me with the end of his jersey before he threw it in the dirty laundry basket. “We still would have won if you would have just run out the clock.”

I crossed my feet and did a little spin, plucking my jersey off my shoulders. “Yeah, but that wouldn’t be as fun to watch on the highlight reels later, would it?”

Holden shook his head, but his smile was wide, hair matted to his forehead after a grueling game. It was at least starting to cool off finally, fall taking over the northeast like it always did this time of year.

“Clay,” Leo said, nodding at me as he rounded into the locker room and set his helmet on the bench. “You have a visitor.”

He nodded toward the hallway, and a grin split my face as I jogged out, ready to wrap Giana in a sweaty hug whether she wanted one or not. I hadn’t seen her outside of us both working at the stadium since last week, me caught up in practice, and her with the upcoming auction.

And every minute since that night, her little whimpers of pleasure were about the only fucking thing I could think of.

It had been so much more than I expected, than I could have ever imagined, stripping her, touching her, tasting her. I knew she’d asked me to be her first, but I hadn’t realized that meant her first everything. The girl hadn’t even had an orgasm.

Until me.

It was fucking stupid how much that lit me up with pride, how much it made the beast inside me walk with a little more swagger in its step.

It was also fucking stupid how much I had thought about her since.

Every morning I woke up to a text from her — either a simple good morning or, more commonly, a random question about sex or how to turn a guy on.

We need to revisit the balls conversation. I want training on how to handle them.

Do guys like red lipstick, or is it just a messy inconvenience?

Tell the truth: do my skirts make me look cute or hot? Because I’m aiming for hot.

When’s our next lesson?

Of course, those questions turned into us texting all day, sneaking a minute together whenever we could at the stadium. And every chance I could, I was pulling her in for a kiss.

Even when Maliyah wasn’t around.

I told myself it was because it would make it all seem more real. It would convince Maliyah that I wasn’t just doing it for show. It’ll get back to her, I assured my whirring brain, it’ll really make her want you back.

Those words played on repeat.

That didn’t explain why I’d snuck a couple of Giana’s books out under my shirt when I’d popped by to bring her dinner in the middle of the week. She’d quickly kicked me out since she was studying for a test. But I took those books and did a little studying of my own.

I memorized what pages she’d dog-eared, or highlighted, which ones had the distinct oil from her fingertips being on them more frequently than others.

And what I found surprised me.

I was eager to test the theories I’d come up with the next time we were alone, and to tease her a little — which was quickly becoming my favorite pastime.

I slung into the hallway, ready to fire off some smartass remark about holding the press when I came face to face with Cory Vail.

My smile dissolved like salt in hot water.

“My boy,” he said, smile wide as he held his arms open for a hug. He didn’t wait for me to slide into them. Instead, he wrapped me up in a bear hug, clapping me hard on the shoulder as he released me.

I stood there in shock, taking in the father of my ex-girlfriend who had always felt like a father to me, too. He was beaming with pride, his eyes the same brown as Maliyah’s. He was as tall as I was, but thicker, like a tree stump of a man. He was dressed to the nines as he always was, from his well-tailored, navy blue suit and silver cufflinks, to the Prada dress shoes on his feet.

Power and confidence — that’s what he always exuded.

“That was a hell of a game,” he said. “I’m glad I was here to see it.”

I blinked, shaking off my surprise. “I am, too.”

“Your future is looking brighter and brighter. I know you don’t need me to tell you, but I’m proud of you, Clay.” He nodded, something cautious in his eyes. “I never got to speak to you after everything happened.”

Everything meaning his daughter throwing my heart in a blender.

“I won’t pretend to understand my baby girl,” he said with a gentle smile. “But I will tell you this — I think it was a mistake. And I hope she realizes that, too.”

A knot formed in my throat.

“And I also want you to know that regardless, I’m still here for you. Always. Okay? Anytime you need something — you just pick up the phone and call.”

I nodded, biting the inside of my lip as emotion surged through me. I almost wanted to fall into the big man’s arms and sob, to thank him for being here, for loving me, for believing in me.

But I also wanted to distance myself.

No matter what I felt growing up with him, he wasn’t my family — not then, and certainly not now.

I had to get that through my head sooner or later.

“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me,” I managed.

A nod of understanding was all he was able to offer me before Maliyah swung around the corner, throwing herself into Cory’s arms.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, sweetheart. You looked great out there.”

She smiled and beamed under his praise just like I did, and my heart ached for a reality where my father came to home games and met me in the locker room after.

Maliyah’s eyes caught on me, and she swallowed, glancing up at her dad and then back.

“I want to say hello to a friend in the front office,” Cory said, and it didn’t surprise me that he had friends on the staff.

He had friends everywhere.

“Meet me at the car?” he asked, and then he kissed his daughter’s cheek without waiting for a response.

When we were alone, Maliyah’s eyes searched mine.

And then, without warning, she threw herself into my arms.

“That was amazing!” she breathed, holding me tight as I wrapped her up just the same. For a brief moment, I inhaled her scent, inhaled the way it felt to hold her familiar body to my chest.

But in the next, I let her go, stepping back to put space between us.

“You sound surprised,” I answered coolly.

“Well, I knew you were good, but… I like being reminded just how good.”

She offered me a teasing smile, dragging her fingertip down my stomach.

“Some of us are going out,” she added. “You should come.”

I sniffed, looking down the hall behind her. “We’ll see.”

“Come on, you have to celebrate after that,” she pleaded, and then she tucked her finger into the band of my football pants and tugged me into her. Her lips pressed right against the shell of my ear as she pressed up onto her toes. “It is your birthday, after all. I’d like to give you a gift.”

I hated that my cock responded to that voice whispering in my ear, that my skin broke out in chills at her touch. She smiled when she pulled back, like she knew she still had that effect on me — like she loved it.

And that cooled the fire.

I peeled her hands off me. “I have plans.”

Before I could turn, she stopped me, her hand wrapping around my forearm to whip me back around — not that I’d fought it.

“With her?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

“That’s none of your business.”

Maliyah shook her head. “Why are you playing this game, Clay? I know you want me.” She stepped into me, her cleavage pressing against my lower ribs. Her hand slid down then, cupping me through my pants. “I can feel it.”

I shrugged her off so quickly she almost fell. “That’s a cup. See you around.”

I left her with her jaw on the floor, and once again, I tried to tell myself I did it because I knew it was too early. Her father had pretty much insinuated as much. She’d toss me aside just as quickly if I gave in now.

She just wanted to test me, and this was me passing.

This was all part of the plan.

I was still convincing myself of that when I was showered and dressed, texting Giana that I would meet her in her office.

Ten minutes, she texted back.

And then my phone rang.

Mom’s bright smile lit up the screen, her arm around my waist at my high school graduation. I smirked at the sight, knowing when I answered, I’d hear the worst and loudest rendition of the Happy Birthday song. It was her favorite thing to do, sing it obnoxiously enough that I hid my face in embarrassment, and that didn’t change when I moved across the country.

Last year, she made me put her on speakerphone in the middle of our weight training.

“Mom, before you start, I’m alone. So you don’t have an audience if you want to save your vocal chords.”

The joke died along with my smile when I was met with a choked-off sob on the other end.

Heat crept into my ears, my heart pounding as I ducked into one of the assistant coach’s office that was empty. “What happened?”

For a long time, she just cried, the sobs so loud I pulled my phone from my ear and started looking at flights that I could catch out tonight. I thought she was hurt, or that someone had died. But then she finally spoke.

“He broke up with me.”

I closed my eyes on a relieved exhale, but knew I couldn’t let on that was my reaction to her. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She sniffed. “He was the one. I thought… I thought he was going to ask me to marry him.”

I scratched the back of my neck, thinking of all the things I could say to comfort her. It was a familiar cycle now, one I hoped she hadn’t caught on to. “It’s his loss.”

There was more sobbing on the other end as I gathered my belongings and nodded at a few guys left in the locker room as I made my way into the hall.

“You’re an amazing woman, Mom. If he didn’t see that, then he’s an idiot. There is someone better out there for you.”

“There’s no one out there for me!”

She screamed the words, crying on the end of them.

“I’m old, and tired, and broke,” she choked out. Sniffing, she paused only to add, “I’m… I’m really broke, Clay.”

The hair on the back of my neck raised. “Did something happen at the restaurant?”

Another long pause met me.

“I… I was going to tell you when you came for Thanksgiving. I quit. A long time ago, actually.”

“You what?”

“Brandon was taking care of me!” She cried out her defense. “He was taking care of everything. He was paying my bills, making plans for me to move in with him, making plans for…” She hiccupped. “He promised. He…”

Her words trailed off as more tears found her, and I cursed, stopping around the corner from the hallway that led to Giana’s office.

“They’ll take you back,” I said. “They always do.”

“Not this time.” She sniffed. “I tried. They’re over it. And I don’t blame them. I haven’t been a good employee for many, many years.”

“That’s not true. You’re the most charming one there and they know it.”

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “My charm ran out along with my beauty years ago.”

Inhaling a long, deep breath, I let it out just as slowly before trying to soothe her again. “I know things are hard right now, but it will work out. You can find a new job.”

“It’s not that easy!”

I closed my eyes as she cried more, wishing I was there to comfort her just as much as I wished I could shake some sense into her.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I can help until you get things sorted.”

“Really?” She sniffed.

The instant relief she had from that made my stomach sour.

I wanted to help her. I would always help the woman who kept me, who cared for me, who raised me when my father walked away.

But the fact that she now expected it hurt.

“Oh, Clay. You’re too good to me.”

“I don’t have much,” I confessed. “But they give us a little bit of a stipend with our scholarship. I can help with bills until you get on your feet. Just… promise me you’ll start looking, Mom.”

“I promise.”

I nodded. “Alright, well… I gotta go. But I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetie.”

“Everything will be okay.”

She didn’t respond, but I could imagine her nodding, could imagine her hair a wreck and her eyes swollen and puffy and red because I’d seen her that way so many times before.

The line went dead, and I blinked, frowning at my phone when I took it away from my ear. It wasn’t that her going through a breakup was surprising.

But the fact that she hadn’t wished me a happy birthday was.

I chalked it up to her being upset, thinking of how I was when Maliyah broke up with me. I couldn’t be a good friend to anyone during that time. So, I slipped my phone into the pocket of my hoodie and rounded the corner toward the front offices.

And I prayed she wouldn’t turn to the bottle or the pills while I figured things out.

I didn’t have time to think about how much money Mom would need, how much I could honestly afford to give her, or anything else regarding the breakup because as soon as I pushed through the door to the PR offices, a shower of confetti rained down on me.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Giana did a little hop-like dance, blowing a streamer that sounded like a foghorn. A giant, glittery banner hung above her head, and her eyes were wide and joyful in the candlelight coming from the two and zero candles in a homemade cake on her desk.

“Hurry, before they melt,” she said, shoving me toward the candles. “Make a wish!”

I wanted to be happy. I wanted to smile. I wanted to tell her what a nerd she was and how much I adored it.

But all I could do was blow the candles out with a soft breath.

Giana clapped, removing them and setting them aside as she started cutting the cake.

“I had no idea what you liked, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with chocolate. And sprinkles, of course. Everyone loves sprinkles.” She handed me a plate with a huge slice on it. “Shawn was at the game today. We talked a little after the media frenzy. He asked if I would be at the coffee shop to watch him at all this week.” She waggled her brows at me as she forked off a bite of her own slice of cake. “By the way, you did not have to go that hard with the last play, but I am so damn glad you did. That was incredible. The reporters were in a tizzy. You’re going to be all over ESPN tonight.”

She smiled, handing me a fork, but I couldn’t return any of her enthusiasm. And when she realized it, her smile fell.

“What’s wrong?”

I swallowed. “My mom.”

It was the only answer I could give, but fortunately, Giana didn’t press for more. Her brows folded in, and she nodded in understanding, grabbing the cake out of my hand and setting it back on her desk.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see.”