Colt's Game : A Playing for Keeps Story

And Now We Train

Nikki

I watched the rest of the football practice, and every time that I was able, I helped him out. My reasoning for agreeing to work with him is purely selfish.

My entire life I've played various sports competitively with big men—brothers, father, cousins, uncles. No matter what they were playing, I was on the team and not just as a mascot, I play hard. I miss the contact. Right now, the only competition I have is seeing if I can outrun someone else. It's strenuous but not the same.

I show up at the designated time at the small field in the back with my whistle and slapsticks, ready to work. I'm surprised to see that he's already here.

"Oh, you're not playing, huh?" I walk up behind him. He's already changed and throwing the ball at the cloth nets.

"Not when it comes to winning." He turns toward me and runs a hand through his hair.

Pushing the sweat-drenched strands away from his face. He puts his other hand out for me to shake. "I'm Colt."

"Nice to meet you, Colt, I'm Nikki." My eyes take him in. He's built like a football player, tall, in shape, lithe but still muscular. His eyes are dark and his jaw is angular. His nose is slightly crooked as if he'd been in a few fights before. It does nothing to take away from his handsome features, it just gives his face more character.

"Do I pass inspection?" he asks, and I blink out of my daydream.

"You remember what I told you about being a jerk, right? I mean it." I drop my bag but not before I pull out my slapstick.

"I don't know what you plan on doing with that, but I'm not about to let you beat on me."

I roll my eyes and start to chuckle, but when I catch his gaze, I can see just how serious he is right now. He's not joking in the least bit.

"This isn't to hit you, it's to condition your muscles." The first part of this training is going to be tedious, but if he has as much natural talent as I think he does, then I'm hoping it won't be so bad.

"You're the boss, tell me what you want me to do."

I stand back and wait for him to complain or say something slick. It's unbelievable how easy it is for him to let me help him.

"What's the catch? Why are you so open to this now when the other day you were telling me to get lost."

"I need to win," he answers right away.

"Yeah, we all need to win, but—"

"No, I don't want to get into the gory details, but I need to win. There is no other option. If I lose, some really fucked up shit will happen. Right now, if the devil himself came up to me with a way to win these next few games, I'd take it."

"Well, fuck, there's no pressure there." I laugh and pull my hair up into a neater ponytail. "Let's get started then. Go through your motion but don't release. Every time you hear the slap, just freeze your arm."

"Got it."

He followed directions like an all-star student, and I was right in thinking that he had a natural talent. His footwork was impeccable. His wind-up is fluid and he listens.

Finally, Colt is relentless.

No matter what I asked him to do, he did it with no complaint. I don't know what kind of trouble he is in, but whatever it is must be motivating the hell out of him. We trained for hours and by the time I looked at the time on my phone again, it was well past midnight.

"Crap, I have to get to bed. I have class in the morning." I put my phone in my pocket.

"Hmm? Oh, okay."

"Do you stay on campus?"

"No, I live with my parents," he grumbles as he picks up equipment and starts packing it away.

"Okay, you need a ride?"

"No, I'm good." He refuses right away.

"It's past midnight. No buses are running now."

"I'll walk it." He moves past me and goes for his bag sitting on the sideline.

"What? Why would you do that when I'm offering you a ride. What, are you homeless?" I've never been one to curb my tongue, but I really hope he doesn't tell me yes.

"No, I have a home. It's just not in the best shape." He slings his bag over his shoulder, he doesn't meet my gaze, but I can tell he's a bit embarrassed by his admission. Even in the darkened night, I can see his cheeks turning red.

"I'm not asking to go in, just dropping you off. I'm not here to judge anyone. As long as you got a roof over your head, that's all that matters." I grab his shirt and pull him behind.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're bossy as fuck?" He struggles out of my grasp but continues to follow me.

"Yeah, they tend to get used to it real fast." I smile at him.

"And if I don't want to get used to it?"

"I'll just have to persuade you."

His eyebrow raises and he takes a step to close the distance between the two of us. "I'm very interested in seeing your persuasion techniques."

A squeak lodges itself in my throat. I don't know if it's because of all the adrenaline floating around from running these drills, or the fact that he is gorgeous, talented, and built like a Greek god. Hell, it could even be that his sweat smells like fresh dirt and dry wood, but a sudden rush of desire sparks inside of me.

"Colt, either you want to focus on winning, or you want to focus on my persuasion techniques. One or the other."

Please say persuasion techniques.

He shakes his head and takes a step back. "Right, sorry. I'll be good."

"That's what I thought. Now come on, let's get out of here."

We make our way off of the field, I'm happy we had such a good practice, but a large part of me wishes I could show him just how persuasive I can be.