Biker's Virgin

"Is that what it's going to take?"

"Why are you here, Roman?" he asked me, straight.

"I've wanted to play ball since I was six years old. That didn't change when I was injured, not when I was deployed, not now that I'm on the other side of it. I'm ready, Coach. I'll do the work. I just need an in."

"You come back from a year off, and you really think you, out of all people deserve to land a spot in the league?"

"I know nothing's going to stop me. I'll work as hard as I need to, then harder than that. I know what I'm capable of, Coach."

"I think I do, too. Losing you was unfortunate, son," he said. "You would have had teams fighting to get their contracts in your lap first."

"Still will," I said, determined.

"You would have been as good as signed if you hadn't left. Would be an awful waste to let you go."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I might have a way to help you," he said thoughtfully. "I have a connection, works with a lot of scouts, league owners, and managers; he might have a way to get you into the combine." My heart jumped into my throat.

"When?"

"Your best shot would be the one coming up. That's next month." That was about a week away. I hadn't played in a long time, so it would be risky.

"I'd appreciate that, Coach," I said instead, knowing it was the right thing. When would this come around again?

"I'll make the call and get back to you," he said. I thanked him, grateful for the opportunity. The combine was mostly a fitness test, and I knew I was up to scratch there. In my life, I had probably done more hours of workouts and drills than actual football games. I left Coach Fitz's office with an anxious, excited ache in my stomach.

I climbed into my car and slammed the door shut. What now? I didn't want to go home. I could, it made the most sense, but I felt like that wasn't what I was supposed to do just then. The news was taking a little while to settle. I was happy, but I couldn't believe my luck. I knew for a fact that it didn't usually happen like this.

The pressure was on. If I had this chance, I had to show that it was because I deserved it. I never got nervous about football, but suddenly, I was. I knew I could perform, but I also knew I had to get this right in order get me where I wanted to be by next year, hell, maybe even regular season this year.

I had to tell Ron.

The thought flashed through me like second nature. I had to tell her. I was excited and wanted to tell someone but I didn't just want to tell anyone. We had always shared what was happening in our lives together, but hadn't in a long time. I had stopped telling her things when I got my warning order for my deployment a year ago. That had been the thing that fucked us up – me, keeping my mouth shut when I should have fucking said something. Then when I had chosen to sa

y something, it had been the wrong thing.

I wasn’t making that mistake again. I pulled my phone out and called her. I remembered she was taking summer classes, so there was a chance she was actually on campus.

"Hello?"

"Babe? Hey, where are you right now?"

"Home. Why? Where are you?"

"Can I come over?" I could see her in her apartment, stretched out on her couch reading or at that dining table studying. What was she like as a roommate? I wondered idly. We had never lived together, but I was curious.

She said that I could, she wasn't busy. The drive to her place took no time. Her footsteps on the other side of the door at my knock were audible as she came up and unlocked it. A smile broke across her face when she saw me.

"Hey," she said. Her arms went around my neck and she kissed me. This was normal. This was us, close and familiar; it just hadn't been in a long time so having it again felt sort of like a novelty.

"Hi," I said, as she let me in. "What are you up to?"

"Cooking. I just got a slow cooker, and I wanted to try it out for dinner tonight. Where are you coming from?"

"School," I told her. "I had a meeting today."

"Meeting? Who with?" she asked, sitting on her couch. I followed and sat next to her.