Spiked

I stood still, overwhelmed by everything he’d just said. Somehow, even at Harton, even being with Jacob, I’d still thought of football as just a game. I was so wrong. This was his life.

“I’m sorry,” I said gently.

“For what?”

I shrugged uselessly. “I don’t even know. I’m sorry I didn’t think of all that. I’m sorry I didn’t know to think of all that.”

Jacob smiled a little at me. “You’re not into football, remember?”

“I’m into you,” I countered. “And, much to my surprise, I’m actually pretty into football now too.”

“Well, and to be totally honest, I think that’s why I came to you after the injury. I wanted to be around someone not into football,” Jacob said, and then continued walking.

“And once the injury is healed?” I asked nervously.

Jacob laughed, then looked down playfully. “Obviously, I’ll still want to be around someone not into football. You know, to keep my ego in check.”

“As if one person could do that,” I answered, and Jacob laughed again, then ducked down and plucked me from the ground, swinging me over his good shoulder. I screamed and fought, but there wasn’t much point in it— his grip was a vice, and besides, he was so tall that I was about a million feet off the ground. He spanked me lightly— lighter than he would have if we hadn’t been out in public— then kissed my thigh before setting me back on my feet. The entire thing had made a swell of need sweep through me, and I bit my lip.

“Want to teach me something new?” I asked quietly.

“Always,” Jacob said. “Where?”

“Your apartment?”

Jacob grinned lecherously. “Not what I meant by “where”, Sasha,” he said. “And my apartment is closest, so that sounds perfect.”

18

The following weekend was the only free time Jacob and I had before the Clemson game, and much to my dismay, the time was being swallowed up by none other than Mimi and Walter Everett. They’d insisted that Jacob come by their mountain home to get some fresh air before his triumphant return to the Harton football field.

“I think this is a good thing, though,” Jacob said as we made our way up I-85 in his car. “I know they didn’t really warm to you at dinner, but this has to mean they’re coming around.”

“True,” I said. The reality was, Jacob didn’t know just how terrible his mother had been to me in the restaurant bathroom. I didn’t know much about relationships, but I knew that unless it was absolutely necessary, there was no need to make Jacob the referee of a “girlfriend vs. mother” fight.

“Besides, they’re not wrong about the fresh air. And it’ll be fantastic to get away from everyone at Harton asking me about my shoulder every fifteen minutes.”

I paused. “Well…not to be an “everyone at Harton”, but…how is your shoulder, actually?” I asked cautiously.

Jacob immediately went silent, staring at a passing Cracker Barrel sign like it held the secrets to the universe. “It’s fine.”

“Jacob…“

He sighed heavily. “I don’t know. I think it’s fine. It still hurts sometimes, but only when I bend it in some crazy way. Which of course that hurts, right? That probably would have hurt before, too.”

“But have you told the sports medicine people?” I asked.

His silence revealed the answer.

I shook my head. “Can’t you wait till after the Clemson game? Give it more time to heal?”

Jacob pressed his lips together. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll think on it. Clemson is a big game. Missing it would be huge.”

“Ruining your shoulder would be huge.”

“Potentially ruining my shoulder. I really do think it’s fine, Sasha. I’ve been working it hard at practice, and haven’t had any trouble. It just tweaks every now and then.” He was silent for a long time; I was trying hard not to get angry. Football was the most important thing to him, it was his career, his dream, his future— but he was going to risk it all just to play in a single game?

“It’s a really big game,” Jacob added, like he could read my thoughts. He inhaled. “I think that if Adams is in there, they might just go ahead and keep him in the rest of the season rather than keep switching up leadership on the guys.”

“But the coaches love you. Everyone loves you. There’s no way they’d cut you out if you wanted back in,” I protested.

Jacob snorted. “They do. But college football is just as much a business as the NFL. Coaches get fired when their teams lose. You think they love me enough to risk their jobs? Anyway, this is all beside the point— my shoulder is doing great. And speaking of the Clemson game, you’re still going to be there, right?”

“Oh, sorry. I sold those tickets for another four hundred dollars,” I said. Jacob’s mouth fell open and I laughed loud enough to fill the car. “I’m kidding!”