Roughing

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Jessica says, tugging at the replica of Clay’s jersey.

I’m wearing the same navy blue and white striped jersey with PRINCE on the back. Bash had insisted that I sport his gear as a show of solidarity for the team. He knows football is still not my thing. It will never be my thing. But at least I’m here, showing my team spirit and cheering on my man.

“Clay will be fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

She bites down on her bottom lip, her eyes on the field and the players lining up in formation. “Yeah, I know. It’s just that every game counts from here on out for Clay.”

“The NFL is already interested in him. I’m sure he will have no problem getting drafted when he has Bash in his corner.”

She shifts her weight on the bench and smiles at me. “How cool would it be if we end up with Bash and Clay when they go pro?”

I shrug. “I don’t know about all that.”

“Are you doubting Bash already?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. We need more time to get to know each other better.”

“But you love him, and he’s madly in love with you. I don’t see the problem.”

“You know me better than anyone, Jess. And you, of all people, should know that I am not getting ahead of myself. Last time, I fell so hard for Bash that I couldn’t even function when things went south.”

“You’re just as in love with him this time, if not more,” Jessica interjects.

“Maybe, but it’s different now. Do I love Bash? Yes. I’ve loved him for years. But I also hated him for a long time, too.”

“Way to kill my plans for our future,” she says with a sly grin. “Here I imagined us sitting on the sidelines at their professional games with big, fat rocks on our fingers and all the luxuries that come with being the wife of a professional football player.”

“We already have those perks now, silly. Bash’s trust fund alone is enough to live off for the rest of our lives without lifting a finger.”

“Same for Clay,” Jessica adds. “We scored with these two, huh?”

I nod. “Even more so for me than you. I didn’t come from money like you guys, so I don’t dream of hotel suites at the Ritz Carlton or vacation homes on private islands. My life was more like motel rooms at the Howard Johnson and a trailer on the beach in Ocean City.”

Jessica laughs, shaking her head at me. “Well, get used to it, because from here on out, you will be treated like a queen. Bash will make sure of it.”

“He already does,” I confess, smiling at the thought of my last few weeks with Bash. “Everything is high end. Even the coffees he brings to class for me are fancy.”

He has changed so much that it’s as if I am dating a different person. There are so many sides to Bash. And I love all of them.

“A caramel macchiato is not fancy,” Jessica says.

“Where I come from, coffee is black and served with cream and sugar—not with caramel swirls and foam. And it sure as hell doesn’t cost over five dollars. Who would spend that much money on coffee, anyway?”

Jessica chuckles but doesn’t say anything.

We sit in silence for most of the first quarter, focused on our men. The Strickland Senators are winning by seven points and in possession of the ball. That’s about all I understand from what the announcer and Jessica have relayed because I understand nothing about football other than kick, throw, catch, and score. When it comes to most sports, I have zero interest unless it involves ogling hot men in tight pants. So, yeah, that much I have covered. But, as far as understanding what is going on, that is another story.

Bash and Clay are such a show-offs it’s no wonder the other team was gunning for them. They play so well together, their movements so cohesive. Clay throws the ball to Bash who’s already running down the field, toward the end zone, when he catches it.

Bash is fast, like really fucking fast. He zips down the field, dogging his attackers, and when his foot touches down in the end zone, he slams the ball on the ground and does a victory dance. My God, my boyfriend is such an ass. His team slaps their hands on his helmet, as he walks toward them, congratulating him.

As Bash passes our bench, he looks right at me and winks. I blow him a kiss to show him my appreciation. He’s so damn talented, the kind of person who makes normal people like me sick. Bash is not just model hot, amazing in bed, and a force on the field, he’s also smart as shit.

Unlike Finch and some of the guys on his team, Bash didn’t need a sports scholarship or a tutor to keep up his grades. Jessica is right about us. If things go our way, we will be doing the same thing together, only at a professional game. I’m sure the wives of players sit in the boxes and not down on the field, but still, it would be pretty cool to be the wife of Sebastian Prince.

“What are you smiling about, trailer park trash?” I h

ear Harper’s scratchy voice that has the effect of nails dragging down a chalkboard before I see the nasty look on her face.