Colt's Game : A Playing for Keeps Story

And She's Football Royalty

Colt

The girl is a powerhouse. I thought at first that maybe she knew a few things about the game when it turns out she probably knows more about the sport than the coaches do. I can tell that she really loves the game. The passion and anger that spews out of her mouth when she sees me doing something incorrectly isn't just from someone who occasionally watches a game on Sundays.

"Where did you learn how to play?" I ask as she turns onto the highway.

"What makes you think I didn't learn on my own? I could have just liked to watch all the Sunday games." She shrugs and shoots me a smirk.

"Bullshit, you play like the game is in your veins."

"Well, I guess you can say it is. My grand uncle is Bert Jones. My father played for the Steelers for a little while before I was born, and my brother was just picked up by the Jacksonville Jaguars, another brother was picked up by the Houston Rockets NBA team, the other three brothers are either playing college ball across the country or majoring in sports medicine. So yeah, you're right about that, I was born to play sports."

My mouth drops open, and I can't do anything but stare at her in shock. I'm basically sitting next to football royalty right now. "Holy fuck." I turn my head back to the front, completely speechless.

"Don't get weird on me." Her head swivels quickly from the road to look at me and then back again.

"I'm not going to get weird. That's just a lot to take in. I feel much better with you helping me now." I laugh and get more comfortable in the seat.

"Good. Now, are you ever going to tell me what is so important about winning these games?"

I groan and look away. I was already letting her see my house, I didn't want any pity from anyone. I knew that if I told her that I needed to make bets to make ends meet, she would somehow try to help me out. I didn't know Nikki that well, but I could already tell she was the type of person that wanted to help others.

"I'd rather not."

"Look, like I told you earlier, I'm not here to judge you, but it would make me feel better to know I'm not mixed in with anything illegal."

Well, there goes that. "I guess you're not going to feel better then."

She glares at me for a second before she turns back to look at the road. "What the hell does that mean? Are you doing something illegal?"

"Yeah, but not to hurt anyone if that's what you're worried about." I let out a deep sigh, agitated and really not wanting to share. "Look, my folks aren't rich. Hell, we're dirt poor. Every dollar we do manage to get in the house, my piece of shit father blows on liquor or drugs. The only reason I'm in school is because it's basically my mother's only wish. I got a partial scholarship to play ball, but I have to help out with the bills at home. I'm usually really good at knowing the outcome of a game, so I make bets from time to time just to make sure that we have some food and the bills are paid."

"You lost a bet?"

"Yeah, Frederick wasn't supposed to go down. I hadn't accounted for that. Now the men that I've made the bet with have given me a bit of leeway, they didn't beat the shit out of me. I had two thousand five hundred of the money that I owed them, so they used that to place a new bet for me. I have to throw for a thousand or more yards by the end of the McNeese game.

"Oh shit!"

"Tell me about it. I told them it was impossible, but they seem not to give a damn that I'm not fucking Joe Montana."

"Colt, why don't you go to the cops or something like that? I mean, maybe they can help you?" She bites her lip and takes the exit ramp to my part of town.

"Yeah, these aren't the type of people you call the cops on. They're the guys that own the Gold Wings Casino. The casino is on the up and up, but it's run by an motorcycle club called the Wings of Diablo."

"Wings of Diablo? I've heard of them. I thought they weren't so bad? I've had a lot of my girlfriends go to their clubhouse for parties and such."

"Yeah, they seem to be okay people. Usually on the right side of the law helping people that need to be helped but when it comes to business, well, let's just say I'm not looking forward to the punishment I'm going to get if I try to play them for fools."

"Fuck, this sucks so bad." She sighs and turns down my street.

"Are you talking about my neighborhood or the situation?" I gaze at her and smirk a bit as her face turns a bright red.

"Oh no, I wouldn't . . . I mean, I'm not . . ." She squints her eyes and backhands me against the chest when she sees that I'm laughing at her. "Jerk."

Nikki is the type of girl I would pursue, without a doubt. 

Her long mousy brown hair always pulled back in a tight ponytail, her wide doe-eyes, even the way her bangs curl slightly to the left, all of it is sexy as hell to me. Then add on top of how gorgeous she is, the fact that she's athletic and not afraid to kick my ass just makes me want her more. 

For sure, she is someone I would waste a bit of time on, but I know I can't go down that road. She was right earlier. I need to be focused on the game and not her. Now, if only my dick would get on the same page. I've had a hard-on for her since she was able to tackle me earlier in practice.

"Is it down this street?" she questions quietly.

I focus on my surroundings and realize why she's suddenly gotten more somber. My neighborhood is clearly below the poverty line. My home may be a slum, but I wasn't the only one here with those problems.

"Yeah, that one over there." I point to the house with the dark gray roof and an ominous paper on my door.

Fuck, that was either the lights or the water.

She pulls up at the curb and stops the car. I wait for her to say something about the house, but she doesn't.

Straight into business. "I think we should practice as often as possible. You know what you're doing, but you just need a bit of finessing. Hopefully, I've snapped that slapstick enough for it to be ingrained in your mind." She laughs.

"I think I'm going to have nightmares about that damn slapstick. Who would have thought that one sound would be enough to get on my ever-loving nerves."

"You! Imagine how my hands would have felt if I had to clap all those hundreds of times. I'll just have to annoy the hell out of you if it means that I get to keep my hands nice and delicate." She pulls her hands up and shows me her dainty fingers.

"Shut up." I grab both of her hands in one of mine and begin to tickle her side.

"Stop! What the hell!! Stop it!" She laughs loudly and leans far into my space. When I finish playing with her, she is out of breath, her hair is a mess, and she is basically in my lap.

"Smack me later, okay?" I look down at her face noting the confusion.

"What?" The word is soft and barely out of her mouth before I bring my lips down on hers. 

I kiss her once, and she melts into me. I pull back and wait for the swing. I would never force myself on a woman, if she wanted me to stop, I would instantly. Instead, she pushes herself forward and kisses me again.

A light moan makes its way out of her mouth, and I have to slam my hand against the door to get myself to back up.

"Wasn't I supposed to be focused?"

"Focused on football on the field, focused on me in the car." She pushes her hand in my hair and pulls me back to her.

Internally I'm doing backflips. I love it when a woman isn't afraid to go after what she wants and if she is saying that she can separate what we do on the field with what is happening in here, then I'm all for it. Who knows, if I don't make good on that bet and those bikers beat me to death, at least my final days will be laced with some good memories.