“What time do we need to leave for the game?” He said as he flipped on ESPN Countdown.

  “The game starts at two thirty five, so we can leave here around one thirty.”

  “Can we leave at twelve thirty? I want to watch pre game warm ups.”

  “Let’s split the difference. One o clock?”

  “Ok. We eating at the stadium?”

  “We can.”

  “Then we can hang out with Jackson after the game?”

  “I’m not sure. His family is in town, so he might have plans with them.”

  “We are his family, too?” Jack asked and turned towards me.

  My heart thumped in my chest. I took a bite of my waffles and stalled hoping the appropriate response would surface.

  He turned back to the television, a story about Jackson came on and he turned the television up.

  “Jackson Mitchell looked great in the preseason, but is he ready to lead a new team?” The broadcaster continued on. I watched Jack and his eyes glazed over watching his hero on television.

  If we had any more close calls like this morning, I would need to talk to Jack about Jackson and I. I kept my dating life away from him. He had never seen me with someone, but I hesitated because Jackson and I didn’t feel together. It didn’t feel like we were on the same page.

  “Jack, turn that down. I want to talk to you.”

  He sighed and muted the television.

  “Jackson is a great guy and he loves you, but you have to understand that he has his own family and friends.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want you to get you’re hopes up and think because Jackson is here, now, that we will be hanging out all the time. He has a huge responsibility with his team and we have to let him do his job.”

  My son gave me the best mom, your talking nonsense look. He was right. I had no idea what I was trying to explain, but I wanted to protect both of our hearts from getting hurt.

  We arrived at the stadium. The parking pass Jackson gave us allowed us to park underneath.

  The attendant guided us to a spot and as soon as we got out, Jack said “Mom, that’s Jackson’s car. We are parking with the players.”

  I slid out of my car and looked around. I concentrated on breathing.

  “Hi, Carrington.” A tall thin black guy in a red golf shirt and slacks approached. “I’m Brenden, Jackson’s assistant.”

  “Oh, yeah. Hi.” I shook his hand.

  “You must be Lil Jack?” He kneeled down and shook Jack’s hand. Even on his knees, Jack only came up to his shoulders. “You guys want to follow me up. I’ll show you to the suite.”

  “Is this where the players park?” Jack asked.

  “Yeah, the players, coaches and their families.”

  Jack turned to me and giggled, satisfied he had proved his point from our earlier conversation. I shook my head and followed Brenden as he talked to Jack about the stadium.

  He led us to an elevator.

  “Can you press number four?” Jack stood on his tip toes to reach it.

  We rode the elevator in silence.

  When it reached the forth floor, the elevator opened onto a concourse full of people. Jack reached for my hand and I squeezed it and followed Brenden to a suite with Jackson’s number nine jersey framed and mounted next to the door. Brenden pushed open the door and twenty pairs of eyes turned to watch us walk in. I thought about turning around and walking right back towards the elevator and back to my car, but Jack pulled me inside.

  “Carrington,” Jackson’s mother said.

  “Mrs. Mitchell. Hi.” She approached with a hand extended, but dropped it and pulled me in for a hug.

  “It’s so good to see you. How are you?” she asked.

  “I’m good.”

  She looked down at Jack. “Oh my goodness, is this Jack?”

  “Hi.” Jack said and waved.

  “Hello. I haven’t seen you since you were a little over a year old. You are too cute.”

  “Thank you.” Jack said and grinned from ear to ear. He dropped my hand and moved further into the suite. “Mama, can I watch pre game.”

  “You go right ahead sweetie,” Mrs. Mitchell said. “Carrington, why don’t we have a drink. I’m so nervous.” She took my hand and lead me over to a bar in the corner of the suite.

  “I’ll take a glass of champagne.” She said to the bartender. “Carrington?”

  “I’ll have the same.”

  We took our glasses of champagne and sat at the high table in the back of the suite.

  “Well, I think it’s time we get to know each other.” She clanged my glass and drained half of hers. I took a small sip, bit my lip and smiled.

  While Jack felt at home in any environment, my heart raced out of control and I felt an anxiety attack festering below the surface. Ms. Mitchell asked me a series of question, which gave her a complete run down of everything I had been up to in the last five years. She did all this in pre-game, firing question at me like we were on a timer. I guessed we were because as soon as the opening kick off, the questions stopped.

  Mrs. Mitchell headed to the front of the suite and took a seat. I remained in the back of the room. From this view, I could see the television and the field. Plus, I could watch my son work the room. He spent a lot of time talking to Jackson’s brothers who besides a wave from their seat, ignored me.

  I didn’t recognize anyone else in the suite. Nine minutes into the game, the guy who sat next to Jackson on draft day walked in with several gentleman.

  Jackson’s agent greeted everyone but me when he walked into the suite, but one of his guest spotted me. He made his way to the bar while keeping his eyes on me. With doing in hand, he pulled himself up into the chair next to me.

  “Hello beautiful. My name is Sam.” He extended his hand and I took it, but he held on longer than necessary.

  “Carrington Butler.” I shuddered when he rubbed his fingers through my palm.

  “Hi Carrington, why are sitting back here all by yourself.”

  “Taking it all in.”

  “You a football fan?” he asked.

  “I’m a friend of Jackson’s.”

  “Oh, really. Well, he’s a lucky guy,” Sam said and his eyes worked their way down my body. “Yes, a very lucky guy.”

  “Sam, let me introduce you to Jackson’s family,” Michael called from the other side of the suite.

  “Excuse me, beautiful.”

  Michael looked over at me, but didn’t approach.

  I turned my attention back to the television.

  Jackson threw two touchdowns and the defense only gave up a field goal at the half. As everyone stood to stretch their legs I got Jack’s attention and motioned for him to come to me. He had Mr. Mitchell’s hand and brought him along.

  “Hi Carrington,” he said as he leaned over an kissed me on the cheek. I liked Mr. Mitchell. He was a genuine guy and he loved his family.

  “It’s been a long time. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I looked down at Jack, “You hungry?”

  “Yes ma’am.” He climbed up into the empty seat and watched the highlights on the television above his head.

  “Can I get you anything Mr. Mitchell?”

  “No sweetie, I’m fine.”

  I made a quick inquiry with the stadium staff to make sure there were no nut products in the food. I filled a plate with chicken fingers and nachos. All the stuff Jackson loved, but never ate because I wouldn’t allow it. I grabbed another glass of champagne and headed back to the table where Jack talked to Brenden and Michael.

  “Michael Murphy, this is Carrington. She’s a friend of Jackson’s.”

  “Yes, we meet on the phone. Nice to meet you in person.” He turned to Jack, “you must be excited to have Jackson so close, now?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said with a mouth full of chicken fingers dipped in ranch dressing.

  “Jackie, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “He talked to me.”

  “He’s right about that. I’ll leave you alone. I don’t want you to get into trouble.” He patted Jack on the back.

  “Carrington, can I get you anything?” Mrs. Mitchell said on her way to the bar.

  “No I’m good.”

  Why was everyone checking on me?

  I felt under a microscope. Like everyone waited for me to freak out or explode or something. I admired Jack’s ease around people. I wasn’t sure where he got it from. I had always had social anxiety issues and while I handled myself better than I did back in college, put in a room with strangers, I couldn’t shake the feeling of people talking about me behind my back.

  I felt out of place. An intruder into someone else’s world. I imagined if Jackson were here, I would be someone on his arm, a decoration. It reminded me of my first day on campus at FSU.

  I can’t believe I held on to the same insecurities as when I was a freshman in college.

  Stuffing Jack with stadium food had the desired effect. After the game, he was ready to crash. When I declined the dinner invitation, no one thought anything of it.

  When I found Jackson standing on my porch a couple of hour after the game, I knew he had a problem with it.

  I opened the door before he could ring the bell.

  I plastered a smile on my face, and waved him in.

  I laced my fingers in his and pulled him into the kitchen. I hoped up on the counter. Jackson started to speak, but I grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him towards me. I wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him. He attempted to pull away and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I stuck my tongue in his mouth and he moaned. He made one more attempt to pull away, but I pulled on the front of his pant making sure he stopped thinking. If this didn’t work, I had one more weapon in my arsenal.

  “Carrington, what are you doing?”

  “Watching you out there, got me so hot. Fuck me, Jackson.” That’s all it took. He unbuttoned his own pants, pushed my panties aside and pressed into me. I gasped.

  “Oh my god,” Jackson grunted in my ear. I latched onto his neck and my head swam from the taste of his skin. I wanted to take a bite, so I did.

  “Ouch.” He pulled back and stared at me. I giggled and pulled his face down to meet mine. He bit my lip.

  “Ouch,” I said and giggled again.

  He pulled my face to his and kissed me hard. He moved inside of me varying the depth and I gasped each time. His hand dug into my thighs and he sucked all the breath out of my mouth, which made me gasp for air.

  He cradled my head in his hand and kissed my face as he continued fucking me. He consumed me, my entire body from the inside out and I couldn’t get enough air in my chest. Before my panic attack took over, I latched onto his shoulder and held on as Jackson pressed into me. His whole body shuddered, but he didn’t make another sound. As we both caught our breath, we clung to each other. I rested my head on his shoulder and sighed.

  “You’re going to hurt me,” he said as he kissed my checks and my nose and then my lips.

  “Not it if you hurt me first.”

  Jackson and I fell into bed and he passed out in seconds. Game day and kitchen sex wore the man out. I laid awake next to him for most of the night, waiting for the alarm to go off at 5:00 am when I could kick him out and not feel bad. We had already discussed no more close calls with Jack finding him here in the morning.

  When the alarm sound, I relaxed. I kept my eyes shut as he rolled over and shut the alarm off.

  “I guess I have to go.”

  I yawned. “I guess so.” He kissed my neck and I moaned.

  “Don’t start that if you want me to leave.”

  I pushed him off of me.

  “Go, so I can get back to sleep.”

  “Wow, you’re not even going to walk me to the door.”

  “I’m sure you can find the way.” I blinked my eyes open. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  I rolled over, pulled the comforter over my head and prayed he would leave.

  ***

  Jackson Latre Mitchell

  God, I feel cheap.

  I laughed as I slid into my car, but I wasn’t kidding. Carrington pushed me out the door. She seemed like she couldn’t wait for me to get out of her house. Granted it was five am and Jack woke up at six.

  I drove home and took a shower before heading into my study to run through film from yesterday’s game.

  I played well. Towson played lights out. I put some balls out there that a normal human being could not catch. Towson made me look better than my ability. I keyed up our opening drive and watch each play, grading how accurate I picked up the defensive coverages. I concentrated on the first four of the nine plays in that drive. On the last five plays, my mind wondered.

  My parents said she came to the game, but she sat in the back of the suite and didn’t really speak to anyone. In contrast, Jack the life of the party.

  I shook my head and rewinded the tape back to the parts I missed.

  On a third down, I over threw Brennan and the opposing teams DB laid him out. Brennan popped back up, but later he came and said, he’d always go up for it, but he wasn’t sure how much his body could take. I promised to never over throw him again.

  After the game, I looked forward to having dinner with Carrington and my family. If she was in my life, I wanted her to get used to my family.

  As I arrived at the restaurant, I received a texted from Carrington saying, Jack had conked out. She used to use Jack as an excuse to get out of doing stuff. I hoped that wasn’t the case now. I texted her I would come over later, but she didn’t answer.

  When I arrived at her house, around nine o’clock, she waved me into the house and pulled me into the kitchen and next thing I knew, we were fucking on the kitchen counter.

  I never had a chance to talk, it was like hello, fuck me and good night. I liked that I could be a little rough with her, it turned me on even thinking about it, but it scared me, too.

  She zoned out, but she felt it too. I know she did. The sounds she made and the way her body reacted to the way I touched her, she couldn’t fake that.

  My phone range and I answered it before looking at the caller id.

  “Good morning Mr. Mitchell. How you feeling this morning?”

  “Hey Michael. I am good. A little sore, but my offensive line is insanely good.”

  “They took care of you, yesterday.” He laughed. “We didn’t get a chance to talk much last night about the game?”

  “I felt good. The systems great. It suits my game and I think I surprised a few people.”

  “When you took off and ran for fourteen yards for the first down, you won a lot of fans with that hit.”

  “Yeah, that’s the only reason I’m sore.”

  “You are making my job easy. We have a couple of meetings set up for tomorrow afternoon. Don’t worry, I stayed in my window. I’ll have you back in your office watching film by eight o clock.”

  “I’m not that bad am I?”

  “You can be a little anal about your game, but that’s good. That’s why you’re so good.”

  “You know my rookie year when they keep bringing up how I had this reputation of studying the game. Like studying film in the bye week was an anomaly in the league.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then that guy in Dallas who went to Cabo with his pop star girlfriend during off week before the playoffs.”

  “Vaguely, what are you getting at.”

  “Well, we both lost games the next week. So, who knows if what I did is the right thing. Maybe it doesn’t matter.”

  “Jackson, you alright.”

  “Yeah, just rambling.”

  “Ok.”

  I paused for a a minute. Toggling forward and backward on the hit Michael spoke about. It hurt to watch it. I knew that side of the field would be open for ten yards. I figured that out by watching film. I guess it made a difference. The next play, they singled covered Towson on a go route and I hit him in stride, sixty years for a touchdown.

  “Did you get a chance to talk to Carrington yesterday?” I asked.

  “Briefly. She is cute. I didn’t realize she was black.”

  “Does that matter?”

  “No, but I didn’t know. I don’t know he at all really. She’s a beautiful girl. A little quiet. She seemed overwhelmed by the whole scene. Her son is a riot.”

  “Yeah, he’s a cool kid.”

  Michael blew out a breath.

  “Listen, I don’t mean to be a dick about this, but …”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is this going to a problem for you?”

  “I don’t know, yet.”

  “Can I offer you some advice?”

  “Isn’t that what I pay you for?”

  “As your agent, yes, but I’m talking as a friend, now.”

  “Ok.”

  “You don’t need the distraction.”

  “Michael–”

  “Wait, hear me out. I understand you two have a history and if you want her, great. If she wants you even better, but don’t be all about it now. Ok? Take is slow. Focus on where you are right now. Not the past, not the future, but right now. Control what you can control and deal with the rest in the off season when you have more time to reflect.”

  “Wow. That was inspirational. You need to record that message and send it to me so I can play it over and over again.”

  “God, you’re suck a dick,” Michael said and chuckled. “That’s why I don’t tell you stuff.”

  I laughed.

  “No, I get it. Don’t worry, I’m not going to loose my focus on this girl. Not this time.”

  “Sounds good. Get back to studying, I’ll send you some stuff to review for tomorrow.”

  “Ok, talk to you later.”

  I hung up the phone and sat it on the table, but then I picked it up and wrote Carrington a text.

  Jackson: I wanted you to know how happy I am that I got traded. It’s fate that brought us together again. I know it may be weird and scary right now, but don’t give up on us. Its going to be good. We belong together, right?