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

I could still remember my first football game.

I was a little tyke, five years old and just shy of four-feet tall. I remembered the smell of the turf, the way the helmet and pads felt a little too big on me as I jogged out onto the field. I remembered that I didn’t know a single thing about what I was supposed to be doing, but it was fun to run and catch the ball and get grass stains on my white football pants.

And I remembered both my parents were there.

I could still close my eyes and see their faces — Dad’s severe as he yelled out ways to be better, while Mom was on the verge of crying tears of joy and pride the entire game. I remembered them holding hands.

I remembered them happy.

It was one of the last times I remembered them that way.

Everything changed after that — slowly at first, and then all at once, like a single book falling from a shelf before you realized it was an earthquake that would eventually take down your entire house.

They started by just separating, explaining to me that they were just going to live in different houses for a while. “Mom and Dad just need a little space,” Dad had said. “It’s good for parents to have a little space.”

But a little space turned into not seeing my dad for weeks, and then months, until one day he came by with a stack of papers in his hands. I remember he rolled them into a tube, and I stole them from him and was pretending that tube was a telescope, and the ceiling was a sky full of stars. It wasn’t until Mom asked if she could look through the telescope, and then unfolded those papers as she started to cry, that I realized something fundamental in my life had shifted.

Dad sat me down at our kitchen table and told me we were still a family, even if we weren’t going to live together anymore.

Domino after domino, I watched my life as I knew it crumble around me.

But through it all, I had football.

Every season started the same, with that feeling of coming home, of the last remnants of summer holding on while fall snuck in on the breeze. It was always my favorite day of the year, the one that filled me with hope and joy like a hot air balloon lifting slowly into a clear blue sky. From my first Pee Wee game, to the first time I ran out onto the North Boston University field with a crowd roaring in the stands, it was a drug, powerful and pure.

But this time… I felt nothing.

Our first game of the season passed like a foggy dream, one where I dressed, ran through warm-up drills and played all four quarters as if I were sleeping through the entire thing. I was there, on the field, next to my defensive brothers as I tackled and sprinted and leapt into the air for an interception that was nearly a pick six. I slapped helmets and chanted cheers, wiped sweat out of my eyes on the sideline, lifted Riley onto my shoulders when the final whistle blew and we won the game, and talked to the line of media like I was the luckiest, happiest kid in the world.

But inside, I was numb.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew it was because of Maliyah.

Seeing her warm up on the same field, watching her cheer out of the corner of my eye, trying to ignore the looks she got from not just the guys on the team but those in the stands, too — it was a slow death from sipping poison.

I wished I was stronger. I wished I didn’t care. I wished for all the things in my life that could have broken me, this was not the one that finally did.

It was supposed to be us.

It was supposed to be her kissing me before the game, cheering me on as I played, leaping into my arms after a win. It was supposed to be my number painted on her cheek, just like in high school, and my jacket around her shoulders when the fall chill set in.

Last night, I’d almost forgotten the acute pain that resided in my chest when Giana and I had gone out in the Theater District for her first “lesson” in getting Shawn’s attention. I was so focused on helping her, on showing her how to play the game that I hadn’t had time to even think about Maliyah.

It was a welcome distraction, watching Giana’s shock as what I told her to do worked, feeling her tremble and pant beneath me as I teased her in that booth, knowing it was driving Shawn mad to watch it.

I knew, because if I were him, it would have driven me mad.

I was surprised how easy it was, how effortless it felt to kiss along her neck, to whisper in her ear and elicit a wave of chills over her skin. It was amusing at first, a permanent smile on my face as I found which buttons I could push to make her gasp, or sigh, or arch into me, or dig her nails into my flesh.

But as the night progressed, that amusement shifted into something primal.

The more I pretended like she was mine to tease like that, the more it felt like she really was.

I soaked up every little mewl that escaped her lips like a hard-fought-for reward. It surprised me how hard it was to peel myself off her when I knew Shawn was about to go on break, and I had to stifle a laugh when I realized I was hard as a rock when I stood up from our booth. I’d had to adjust myself in my pants and stand with my crotch against the bar until I could calm down.

Giana was unexpectedly addicting. Her and her weird books, her unique clothes, her innocence that she tried so hard to cover up with unfaltering sass.

She was… refreshing. And fun.

But not even she could save me from the numbness of today.

“I expect picks like that all season long,” Holden said, clapping me on the shoulder once we’d all made it back to the locker room. “Except next time, it better be run in for a touchdown.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” I shot back with a salute.

Holden smirked, tearing his damp, dirty jersey off and letting it drop to the floor before he tilted his chin at me. “You good?”

“Good.”

“Sure?”

I cracked my neck, giving him a look that I hoped told him what I wouldn’t voice out loud. No, I wasn’t good. Far from it. But I didn’t want to talk about it.

He just nodded, lips pressed together as he ran a hand back through his wet hair. “All you can do is focus on what you can control,” he said, almost to the ground or himself rather than to me.

I nodded, thankful that he wasn’t pushing it.

We finished undressing in silence, both of us dragging our asses to the ice baths before we took showers. By the end of it all, every muscle in my body was screaming in protest — just like it did at the end of every game. Four quarters of putting my muscles and bones and joints through hell never got easier. In fact, the older I got, the more talented I became? The bigger and badder guys I was facing on the field.

I couldn’t imagine what it would be like once I was facing off against the tanks in the NFL.

As I finally got re-dressed in my sweats and made my way out of the locker room, I promised the guys I’d see them at the party later tonight. I needed a nap before then, and maybe a few drinks to pre-game.

When I rounded out of the locker room and into the hall, a familiar laugh made me freeze in place.

Maliyah’s sing-song giggle floated down the hallway, wrapping itself around me like a warm, esophagus-crushing hug. I followed the sound of it like she was a siren, and I was a helpless sailor on tumultuous seas, only to find her leaning up against the wall a mere twenty yards away.

Kyle Robbins stood in front of her, his arm propped against the wall next to her head as his eyes ran the length of her. He edged in even closer, whispering something in her ear that made her blush and laugh again.

And I saw red.

My fists curled at my sides, jaw clenching so hard I nearly broke a tooth. I dropped my duffle bag to the floor, took two steps toward them with the intent to march right down there and break that motherfucker’s nose.

But two steps was as far as I got before Giana sprang into view.

She startled Kyle and Maliyah both when she sprinted past them, her curls bouncing, glasses sliding down the bridge of her nose with every step. But her turquoise eyes were trained on me, and I bent, ready to catch her before she even launched herself off the ground and into my arms.

Just like in the cafeteria, she wrapped her legs around my waist, breath whooshing out of her at the contact. Her arms threaded around my neck and my hands caught her ass — her bare ass under the skirt she wore. It was apparently something she hadn’t thought about before jumping, because shock washed over her, face paling at the feel of my warmth against her.

It lasted only a second, though, because in the next? She was kissing me.

Her mouth collided with mine almost hard enough to draw blood, and she fisted her hands in my hair still damp from the shower, writhing against me. A soft whimper vibrated through her as I held her tighter, and she was breathless when she finally pressed her hand into my chest and broke the kiss.

I heaved a breath, and her chest rose and fell in tandem with mine as I stared at her red, swollen lips. Slowly, my gaze lifted to hers, and those bright eyes shot wider.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, fixing her glasses. “I just, I saw them, and I saw you, and I thought—”

I cut off the rest of her words with my hand behind her head, guiding her into me for another bruising kiss. This time, I pinned her against the wall, and she gasped when my abdomen rubbed along her center.

Pressing my forehead to hers, I pulled back, rolling my lips together. “You’re picking up on this game quickly, Kitten.”

She flushed against a smile. “I’ve got a good coach.”

Someone cleared their throat, and Giana and I turned to find Zeke and Riley walking out of the locker room holding hands. Zeke hiked an eyebrow at where we were locked together, my waist between Giana’s thighs, and Riley blushed so hard she had to look down at the ground and away from us.

“See you at the pit?” Zeke asked, a shit-eating grin on his face.

I didn’t have to answer. Giana buried her face in my chest and I kissed her hair as Zeke and Riley walked by. Following them allowed my gaze to drift down to Kyle and Maliyah, who were both staring right back at me.

Kyle looked suspicious.

Maliyah looked… challenged.

I didn’t allow my gaze to linger, pulling it back to Giana and tilting her chin up with my thumb and forefinger. “You’re coming, too.”

“Coming where?”

“The Snake Pit.”

“The do what now?”

I barked out a laugh, carefully dropping her feet to the ground and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “It’s a party house where some of the upperclassmen guys on the team live. When someone who lives there graduates, a new teammate moves in, and it’s where we celebrate after every home win.” I made a face. “It’s kind of disgusting, honestly, but just don’t look too closely at the floors or crevices and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I was kind of looking forward to a night in after being out so late last night.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” I said, bending to retrieve my duffle bag and walking toward the exit. “Because someone you want to see will be there.”

Giana scrambled to catch up to me, tugging on my sleeve. “Wait, really? Shawn?” She shook her head. “Why the hell would he be at a football party?”

“Because I’ll invite him,” I said. “And he’ll shit himself before saying he’s in. Probably show up with a bottle of wine as a gift or some shit, too.”

Giana rolled her eyes, but an excited smile spread on her lips, a little bounce in her step as we walked.

And right as we passed Maliyah and Kyle, I reached down, threading Giana’s small hand in mine.