Fair Catch: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance (Red Zone Rivals)
Fair Catch: Chapter 13

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to throw my helmet into the fucking stands — with aim at the first South Hartford University fan I saw. Coach Aarons must have sensed it, too, because he gave me a warning glare that made me suck in a stiff breath before calmly placing my helmet down in the grass.

I chugged water next, hoping that would cool me off, before I flopped down on the bench and watched our defense go to work.

I didn’t know what had happened.

The past couple of weeks, I’d felt like I was getting better. Working with Zeke had opened my eyes, and I was putting in the reps, staying out of my head, feeling calmer and more collected than when I arrived on campus. We’d crushed our game against NHU, and my success in that game had propelled me into the best week of practice I could have asked for.

But tonight, I missed a field goal.

And Coach Sanders pulled me out of the game.

I tried to be understanding. He didn’t want another repeat of what happened at our last home game, so he took me out when he saw the warning signs and put my backup in. It was smart. It made sense.

But I was pissed.

And more than that — I was hurt.

Zeke sat down next to me, so quietly that I didn’t notice until his knee brushed mine. His pants had grass stains already, and he balanced his elbows on his knees, eyes on the game as he said, “You good?”

It wasn’t the time to talk about how I was feeling — he and I both knew that.

But I appreciated that he was checking on me, anyway.

I nodded, and so did he, then his hand slid over my knee, just a fraction of an inch higher, and squeezed as his eyes found mine.

Two seconds.

Maybe only one.

It was so quick, such a thoughtless, simple touch of reassurance before he was up off the bench and walking over to stand and watch on the sideline with the rest of special teams.

But my skin burned from where his hand had been.

I bit my bottom lip, stifling a groan as I internally rolled my eyes at how pathetic it was that such a small touch could set me on fire like that.

But then, my eyes popped open.

Wait a second…

I thought about our last game, about how I’d spent the night before… taking the edge off… as Zeke had suggested. I thought it was kind of ludicrous at first but, now…

Maybe it really did help.

I slept great that night, and woke up feeling fresh and ready to go. I also then had one of the best weeks of performance in practice since I’d made chart.

I couldn’t shake the thought as the game progressed, and at the end of the fourth, we had won by nine points.

Without me.

I should have been happy for my team — and I was. I was. I jumped on Holden’s back on the field, joined in Leo’s chants in the locker room, and even let Kyle talk me into doing a stupid dance for his TikTok.

But my gut was sour the whole time, because as much as I was happy we’d won, I was devastated that I wasn’t a part of it.

It gave me a brief look at what it might be like to be injured, to have to sit out a game, or a few games, or even an entire season and not be able to do anything about it.

Except… I wasn’t hurt.

I could do something about it.

I was putting in the reps with Zeke. I was working hard at practice. But still, I was tense, stressed, crumbling under the pressure of balancing school and football in a way I never had before.

Part of me wanted to knock myself upside the head for even considering that Zeke might have a point about replaceing a… release. It sounded so juvenile, and I wanted to point out to both him and myself that there were a thousand other ways to replace stress relief.

But the bigger part of me couldn’t deny how good it had felt to give into that urge in the shower before last week’s game, how I’d felt light as air after, floating on a cloud of bliss until my head hit the pillow and I slept better than I had in weeks.

It had been a long time since I’d touched myself.

It had been even longer since I let someone else do it.

After what happened with Gavin, I’d shut down, all my focus going to football. Peter, my then-boyfriend and the guy who took my virginity, couldn’t handle it. He didn’t like who I’d become — quiet, severe, a girl on a mission. And after we broke up, I couldn’t replace the time or energy to care about replaceing someone else. Sure, I’d hooked up with a couple of guys when the time lined up, at a party or after a game win. But it was never anything more than that.

I was in a relationship with football. I didn’t need a boyfriend.

But now, I wondered if maybe I did. Or, if not a boyfriend, perhaps just someone to have fun with.

And I didn’t know if it was stupid, or if I’d end up regretting it, but I knew — at the very least — I had to try it.

So, on the bus ride back to campus, I downloaded a dating app, made a bio, and started swiping.

Zeke

“Whatcha doing?” I asked Riley in the locker room after a night practice the following week, snatching the phone out of her hand before she knew I was even in grabbing range.

“Hey!” She jumped, trying to get it before I hiked it higher than she could reach.

I arched an eyebrow as I stared at the dating profile staring back at me, one for some toolbag named Tristan who had a picture too professional-looking for an app known mostly for hook-ups.

“If you don’t listen to the Joe Rogan podcast, don’t bother swiping right?” I read, shaking my head as I swiped left. “Welp, there you go. I did you a favor on that one, trust me.”

“Zeke! Give it back!”

Riley all but climbed me with the demand, and I was somewhat amused by her strength, but more so confused by her being on a fucking dating app.

And maybe a little bothered by it, too.

“Why are you on Minglr?”

She bit down on the back of my shoulder, making me yelp and drop her phone just as she reached up and swiped it mid-air.

“That’s none of your business.”

I rubbed the spot she’d mauled. “I thought you said you don’t have time to date.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why—”

The question was cut short when I saw how her cheeks reddened, how she hastily shoved her phone in her duffel bag before grabbing her towel and body wash.

“Oh,” I mused with a cocky smile, which was a miracle considering how the thought of what she was insinuating set my blood boiling. “I get it. You’re looking for a hook up.”

“Just taking your advice, Coach,” she said with a sweet smile, tossing her towel over her shoulder. “I’m going to shower. Don’t,” she warned, poking me in the chest. “Touch my phone.”

I held up my hands. “I’d never stand in the way of your… relief.”

She flipped me the bird, and then swayed off to the showers with a smile and a soft shake of her head.

The second she turned, my own smile slipped.

I forced down the bile rising in my throat at the thought of her trying to replace a guy for the sole purpose of getting off — especially considering I was a guy and knew exactly the kind of creeps who got on those apps looking for the same thing. She’d replace what she was looking for easy enough.

But I wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t get hurt in the process.

Yeah, sure, that’s why you’re mad. Because she might got hurt.

Not because you can’t stomach the thought of someone touching her.

My jaw clenched, and I blew out a frustrated breath as I stripped my shirt off overhead. My body was buzzing to life like it was ready to run laps even after a long, hard practice, but I knew I needed to save my energy. We had our homecoming game at the end of the week, and I needed to be locked in.

“Holy fuck, there she is.”

Kyle’s voice was high-pitched and like nails on a chalkboard, but the way his declaration made a dozen guys crowd around him and make a fuss had me curious.

“Riley Novo. Athlete. Art enthusiast. Looking for a good time!”

His voice rose even higher at the last two words, and that had some of the guys making comments and high-fiving each other. Kyle swiped through the photos on Riley’s profile, stopping and letting out a whistle in sync with the rest of the guys around him at one of her at the beach when she went to Florida with her family over Spring Break.

I remembered that picture from when she’d posted it on Instagram, and I didn’t have to be close enough to see the little olive-green bikini on her to remember how it highlighted every aspect of her well-defined body.

I stormed over and ripped his phone out of his hand.

He wasn’t even fazed as I glared at the screen with Riley’s familiar smile on it before I turned that glare on him. He just laughed, folding his arms and shaking his head.

“Damn, man. I thought you and her had something going on, but now that I know she’s free and looking for a little fun…” His smile was that of an evil Disney character. “I’ll be making a bio myself first thing.”

I shoved his phone into his chest so hard he hit the lockers behind him, making the guys let out hisses of empathetic pain. Kyle’s smile turned to a grimace before he was shoving me back, and then we were nose to nose.

“Why are you always such a prick when it comes to her? Clearly, you aren’t dating,” he said, holding up the phone as proof. “In fact, I’m pretty sure she fucking hates you.”

“Show some goddamn respect,” was all I said as I stepped back, trying to ignore his comment that was mostly true as I cracked my neck. “She’s your teammate.”

“And what, you’re her bodyguard?”

“You’re lucky it was me who heard you saying that shit and put an end to it, because if it had been her, she’d have eaten you alive.”

“Who would?”

All of our heads snapped in unison at the sound of Riley’s voice, who was standing at the edge of the group that had formed around us now, a towel wrapped around her, wet sports bra straps visible above it. She blinked, then narrowed her gaze when she realized it was me and Kyle facing off.

“What’s going on?”

The guys around us dispersed, acting innocent as they pretended to pack things into their bags or stretch, meanwhile they were all listening.

“Zeke,” she said, walking right up to us.

The muscles of my jaw tensed, but I couldn’t replace the words to tell her.

Kyle, on the other hand…

“I found your profile on Minglr,” he said, his eyes still on me as he smirked and shrugged. “And Zeke here is pissed I have more of a shot with you than he does, so he—”

I launched at him, but Holden stepped between us, catching my chest with a hand as he leveled me with a warning glare.

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you,” he added, eyeing Kyle next.

“Why do you do this?” Riley asked Kyle, her shoulders slumping a little as she shook her head. “You’ve tried to make my life a living hell since I made the team. But then sometimes, you act like you’re my friend. So, which is it?”

Kyle was silent, avoiding her gaze.

Riley shook her head, tearing her towel off and throwing it into her locker in a wet heap. She was in nothing but wet boy shorts and an equally soaked sports bra then, and that solicited a few whistles along with most of the guys tearing their eyes away in unison.

“Riley,” I warned.

“No. I’ve had enough of this shit. Let’s settle it, once and for all.” She blew past me — past everyone — to grab a ball out of Clay’s locker before she turned to face me and Kyle again. “On the field.”

“Put some clothes on,” I said, voice low but firm.

“Why?” she asked, walking right up to us with that ball tucked between her ribs and her arm. “Because I’m a girl? You all walk around here shirtless all the time. Do you ever see me drooling or popping a fucking boner?”

A few of the guys coughed at that, and I noticed their backs were to us, and that they likely were, in fact, hiding a boner at this very second.

“Come on,” she said, shoving the ball into Kyle’s chest. “You. Me. QB1. On the field. Now.”

“I want no part in this,” Holden said.

“Too bad, we need a quarterback.” Riley said before he could argue further, and she met his gaze with a look that said you owe me.

Holden gritted his teeth, but grabbed the ball out of Kyle’s hands.

“What exactly are we doing?” Kyle asked warily.

“Simple. We’re playing a game of five hundred. Holden will call the amounts and throw the ball, whoever catches it gets those points, first to five hundred wins.”

Kyle let out a snort of a laugh like it was a fool’s game, and I had to agree. I caught Riley by the elbow and pulled her into me.

“You’re a kicker. He’s a tight end,” I reminded her. “He’s going to win.”

“Ye of little faith,” she teased, giving me a soft smile before she shrugged me off and faced Kyle again. “Well?”

“What are the terms?” Kyle asked next.

“If I win, you start treating me like an actual fucking teammate instead of a girl who doesn’t deserve to be here.” She paused. “And you have to do a dare on your Instagram Live. Whatever me and the rest of the team come up with.”

That made some of the guys chuckle and nudge each other, giddy with the possibilities.

Kyle made a face. “And if I win?”

Riley shrugged. “I’ll have sex with you.”

The locker room erupted, and my blood boiled over as my arm shot out for her again. She tore away from me before I had the chance to pull her in, her eyes connecting with mine only a brief second.

“I got this,” she mouthed.

“The coach’s meeting is only going to last another twenty minutes if we’re lucky,” Holden said. “So, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it now.”

Riley looked at Kyle, challenge in her eyes, and everything inside me prayed he’d see how fucked up this was, that he should just apologize and stop being a little twat and put an end to all of this.

But of course, the bastard smiled, extended his hand and said, “Game on.”