First Down: A Fake Dating College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play)

I STAND IN THE CORNER, watching as Laura dances with her boyfriend, Barry. They’re in the honeymoon stage again after yet another “maybe we’re done” conversation, and honestly, there’s a real possibility of frottage happening in front of half the party. As it is, they’re grinding and making out like they can’t see the other dancers, the spirted beer pong game taking place across the dance floor, or the game of strip poker spilling over from the next room.

I’m about three seconds from ripping off my stupid halo and bolting out into the humid August night.

Darryl arrived a while ago, accompanied by half of McKee’s football team. He didn’t spot me; fortunately, I was in the corner, chatting with some of the girls I’m friends with through Laura. But even though he made his way further into the house, into one of the other rooms filled to the brim, I can feel his presence.

Last year, feeling his closeness, even when we weren’t right by each other, was one of the best parts of dating. I could look across the room and find his eyes on me, even when he was talking to his friends. Whenever I went to one of his games, there would be a moment where he looked back into the stands, somehow found me, and winked.

His attention set my skin on fire in a good way. Now? My skin is still on fire, but out of annoyance and embarrassment.

I shouldn’t have come tonight.

I don’t know which is worse, dreading the moment his drunken ass will try to sweet-talk me back into bed, or seeing him accept the flirtations of some football groupie sorority pledge. I know better than anyone how weak he is for a girl who promises him she’s his biggest fan.

Across the room, the front door opens, and three guys dressed in black suits walk in. Two of them have dark hair; the third’s is blond. He heads into the party right away, and soon one of the dark-haired ones, the one with the beard and a roguish grin, heads to the dance floor with a girl. That leaves the third guy. The one who has my attention. Unlike the guy I’m assuming is his brother, he doesn’t have a beard. I can’t stop staring at his perfect jawline, the way his thick hair curls over his forehead. He’s tall and obviously built, and the way he looks around… it’s like he notices every detail.

Including me.

I swallow, trying to act casual, as I feel his gaze on me. Then Bo Sanders, one of Darryl’s teammates, goes over to say hi to him. Is he a football guy, then? He must be new, since I don’t recognize him, and I spent a lot of time with the team last season.

I down the rest of my warm beer and make my way through the dance floor. Someone stomps on my foot, which knocks me back into Laura. She giggles, gripping me in a tight hug. “Bex! Aren’t you having the best time!”

Barry presses another drink into my hands. “It’s cold!” he shouts unnecessarily.

This beer is blessedly less lukewarm, so I take a gulp. Laura kisses me on the cheek, her arms still wrapped around me, swaying us in a circle. I can smell her signature orange blossom perfume along with the beer on her breath.

“Hey,” I say. “I’m going to head out.”

Her lips, still somehow perfectly black with matte lipstick, curve into a pout. “What? No way! We’re just getting started!”

“Darryl’s here.”

“Darryl?” she says loudly. “Where?”

My stomach pinches in on itself. I pull her away from the dance floor, back into the shadows. “Stop, you’ll summon him.”

She roots her feet in place and refuses to go another step. Even though she’s tipsy, her eyes are clear as she looks at me. “Bex, it’s okay. Don’t tip-toe around him, show him you’re fine.”

My voice cracks as I respond. “But what if I’m not?”

The pain in my words must register to Laura because she throws Barry an apologetic look and drags me off. We go upstairs, past a few different couples in various states of hooking up, and stop in front of one of the doors. Laura pounds on it. Someone shouts at us to go away, but she just jiggles the handle until it swings open, revealing a shirtless dude pulling up his pants and a girl adjusting her braless, backless dress.

“What is your problem?” she shrieks.

“Out!” Laura says with such ferocity they don’t argue. She pulls me inside and makes me sit down on the edge of the tub, locking the door and leaning against it. She blows the hair out of her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” she says.

“No,” I say immediately.

“Do you still love him?”

“God no.”

“Good. Because he’s a jerk. Hooking up with random cleat chasing chicks.”

I grimace. Last spring, I stumbled upon all the sexting, and then the story of his side pieces unraveled, and that had been the last blow in a rapidly unwinding relationship. I met Darryl at a party like this my first semester at McKee, and the prospect of having a real boyfriend for the first time since high school was too tempting to resist. During the football season, it was easy to be with him; he was so busy that he didn’t mind me being busy as well, as long as I went to all the home games. But after the season imploded and the spring semester rolled around, he became clingy, overprotective, and downright annoying—while at the same time cheating on me with a couple of football groupies.

Despite me making it clear that I wanted to break up, he spent the summer texting and calling like he thought there was a chance I’d change my mind. Darryl Lemieux is not used to being told no, especially by women.

Now all the distance I built up over the summer, with him being home in Massachusetts and me still in New York, has vanished in one night, at one crummy party.

“I know,” I say. “I’m not… I’m just dreading it, you know? He’s going to try to rekindle things, and when he realizes I can’t do that, he’ll act like a baby. That’s what he did the entire time we were together. Someone doesn’t give him what he wants, he complains. It’s like he thinks that just because he can catch a stupid football, he’s some sort of god.”

Laura sits down next to me on the edge of the tub. She glances back and makes a face. “Ugh. Someone needs to clean this bathroom, it’s nasty. Nice showerhead though.”

I laugh weakly. “Not regretting living with me instead of here, are you?”

“Definitely not. Like I’d choose having to guard my hair iron from vultures instead of living with my bestie.”

I knock our shoulders together. “I’ll go home. Have fun with Barry.”

She frowns. “Are you sure you want to take a cab back alone? It’ll be expensive.”

“I’ll figure it out,” I say, even though inside I curse, because she’s right. An overpriced cab, even only going back to the dorms about fifteen minutes away, will pretty much negate what I made from my shift at The Purple Kettle. On the way here, I was fortunate enough to tag along in the rideshare Barry paid for.

“Okay,” she says, pulling me into a hug. “But call me once you get back to the suite. And maybe go around the back.”

I kiss her cheek and disentangle myself. Winding my way through the crowds, I head to the back room, where there’s an exit to the patio.

“Bex.”

Like an idiot, I turn—and almost smack right into Darryl.

“Hey,” he says, steadying me with his hands on my shoulders. He squeezes before stepping back. “Finally, I thought maybe you wouldn’t show. What’re you drinking, baby?”

I close my eyes briefly. The urge to flee is right there, pushing down on me, but I force myself to stay put. “I…”

“I know,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Vodka soda.”

That’s not even remotely right—if I’m drinking something other than beer or wine, it’s usually a rum and coke. I try to sidestep him, but he wraps his arm around my waist. He strokes the neckline of my dress, his fingers brushing my skin.

I grit my teeth. “Darryl.”

“I knew you’d come back around,” he says. “You’re so pretty, baby. So glad you came tonight for me.”

I push his hand away. “I didn’t.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him. The guy from before. He has a frown on his face. He takes a step forward.

“I’m here for him, actually.”

I don’t know what possesses me, but I shake myself free of Darryl and walk over, reach up to put my arms around this stranger’s neck… and kiss him.

On the lips.

Holy hell, this is a good kiss.

Maybe I caught him by surprise, but he’s kissing back, his arms coming around my waist to squeeze me, his warm body pressed right against mine. He deepens the kiss, his tongue darting out to drag over the seam of my lips, and I open for him, let him kiss me until I’m breathless and overheated. He smells woodsy, like his cologne has hints of pine in it, and those hands… they’re big and set low on my body, almost brushing my ass. After half a second’s breath, I kiss him again. Intending it to be a goodbye. To run away. But he tightens his grip, plundering my mouth with his as he steals my very breath.

This one kiss—from a stranger—is better than any kiss I shared with Darryl. He’s ridiculously good at this, kissing like it’s his job. I could happily stay here the whole night, offering my mouth to his.

He shifts a little, bending down to murmur against my ear. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The spell shatters. Maybe Laura wants me to be the sort of person who can handle a hookup, but I can’t. I’m not built for it. And I’m not letting myself get drawn into another destined-for-doom relationship, even if he kisses like sin and smells like a goddamn forest. I step back, untangling myself from him. My body immediately misses his touch. I feel cold, even in this crowded room. The music is still pounding, but I can barely hear it.

I turn on my heel and make a beeline for the door.

“Wait,” I hear the guy say at the same time Darryl calls my name.

Shit. What the hell did I just do?