Snapped: A Sports Romance Read online

  Snapped

  Meghan Lockley

  Contents

  Swirl Saturdays

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Breanna

  Sean

  Lucky Catch

  Dear Reader

  Copyright © 2016 by Meghan Lockley

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2016

  * * *

  Meghan Lockley

  P.O. Box 1311

  Caldwell, ID 83606

  [email protected]

  Swirl Saturdays

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  Breanna

  They say you never forget your first love. They say it's a fever, an all consuming heat that burns it’s way through your mind and body, leaving nothing untouched.

  For me, love is an affliction. It's an unscratchable itch. It's a raw throat from stifled words. It's a knot in my belly that keeps me awake as I see him underneath his porch light with other girls. It's eyes puffy resulting from his choices. It’s the twist of a knife in my heart, not being able to tell my best friend that I’m in love with her brother.

  Poets call it unrequited. I call it Hell.

  I've lived across the street from Sean for as long as I can remember. After all, my parents lived in their craftsman bungalow since well before my birth. I’m their only child, and to say that I was doted upon would be an understatement. Growing up I was provided every comfort, including the closest proximity to my best friend Sophie, imaginable. I had considered this a blessing until I realized it meant being constantly bombarded with encounters with Sean.

  Sexy Sean, with his chiseled abs and defined arms. I swear the boy is allergic to shirts. Mowing the lawn, cleaning the gutters, rain or shine, it doesn't matter. Look long enough, and you'll see him shirtless and amazing. And I look often.

  I'm looking even as an adult. I'm headed home from college and all I can do is crane my neck, hoping he's home for winter break. Lucky for me, even with his heavy football schedule, he's home for the holidays.

  His familiar muscular frame is stretching outside his house, and I almost forget to how to drive. Unfortunately for me, frigid temperatures means he is wearing a shirt this time. It's long sleeved, but clingy. The fabric clutches every muscle in his back and arms the way I wish I could. If I try hard enough, I can probably count the outline of his abs through material. But because the last thing I need is to hit a mailbox, I force myself to look back at the road.

  From my peripherals, I can see that he has another guy with him, also preparing to work out. Maybe his dad? No. There’s no way Mr. Foley would be out running in the middle of winter. Only someone as dedicated to athleticism as Sean would workout in freezing temperatures.

  I pull my Camry into my parent's driveway and cast a quick glance in my rearview mirror. Sean's still warming up, but now he's oriented to face my house. I wish I would have worn makeup. If I had known he was coming home I would have done more with my hair besides pulling it back in a headband. But of course I hit the snooze button four times instead.

  I shouldn’t beat myself up. How would I have found out that he was home?

  Asking Sophie about her older brother was something I learned early on to NEVER do. My best friend was used to girls befriending her just to get close to him. In high school, I witnessed many friendships crash and burn for that reason. To her, it is an ultimate betrayal.

  Of course, there are subtle ways to keep track of him.

  It's easier now that he's starting quarterback for our state’s university. This Fall had been generous, with plenty of articles about his stats and performances. And oh my God, the pictures and videos. I had spent many nights, umm, researching. Researching just how many defined ab muscles he has. It was a field that I would consider myself an expert in.

  I had been analyzing him since my twelfth birthday. He had just started high school. New school, new friends, new activities. He didn't have time to hang out anymore. Still, he walked with Sophie across the street to my house, present in hand. But instead of staying at the party like he had always done before, he handed me my gift and gave me a hug.

  “Happy birthday, Breezy.” He whispered his nickname for me next to my ear before he pulled away. He couldn’t stay. Football practice. That was when the line between childhood and adolescence blurred, and our interactions became uneasy. I watched him walk away from my porch, and I have been watching him ever since.

  I watched as he made the Varsity team his freshman year. I was in the stands when he broke the national record for Most Touchdown Passes as a junior QB. And once I started the same high school, I watched every girl in the hall pine for him as he passed. He had his pick of any, but he always chose poorly.

  I watched as he was recruited into a top football program for college, leaving me behind to toil in our small town for two years until I, too, graduated.

  I strongly considered going to his university. I dreamt about it and obsessed. But I knew it would be just like high school. I would end up seeing him with girls who don’t deserve him.

  He seems drawn to two types of women. The first see him as a meal ticket. They know his reputation on a football field and hear that he's going places. They hear he's getting scouted. They want him for status and prestige.

  The second type see his tattoos and cocky attitude and know he's a good time. Or maybe they hear from word of mouth that he's as talented between the sheets as he is on the field. It isn't exactly a secret. God, even one of the comments below an article about his questionable conduct said, "He breaks rules, hearts, and beds."

  Both types don’t know that despite his rap sheet and turbulent past, he still volunteers at the senior center where he was sentenced community service, despite the sentence being long since served. They have no idea how much he loves his sister. They don't know how he drove four hours to pick her up from a party that went bad, no questions asked. They don't know anything about him besides his stats and reputation, and it kills me.

  So I didn't follow him. Hoping that giving myself some distance would help me move on, I enrolled in a private college. Besides, it has the best nursing program in the state. Not that I was in the program yet. Far from it. But I had finished my first semester of prerequisites with a 3.9 G.P.A. I'd always done well in school, but was surprised at the ease of which I transitioned into college, especially considering how self-conscious I can be. Going away forced me to realize just how much I rely on Sophie as a crutch in social situations.

  I held on to the hope that the guys at college could compete with Sean. I should have known better. Between my unreasonable standards and shyness, I found myself still single and still saddled with my virginity. Every year that passes makes the stakes higher.

  Now I have this huge inner pressure to find someone deserving. In a twisted way, it feels like anything less will be a waste. Like I'm throwing something precious away. And every guy I see pales in comparison to Sean. I've been spoi
led by impossibly sculpted biceps bulging raking leaves and tattooed forearms carrying in groceries for my mother.

  I had my fantasies, though. And other than the occasional celebrity or book character, Sean remained the star.

  I peek in my rearview mirror again, trying to steal one last glance before I go inside. He is still perfection. Tall, muscular, with the square jaw and blue eyes you would expect from the Hometown Hero. He is wearing a skullcap, hiding his longish blond hair. But try as he might, even warm clothes can’t hide his athletic body.

  “Breanna!” My mother’s squeal breaks my gaze. She is tapping on my window, drawing attention to the fact that I’ve been sitting in my parked car for God knows how long.

  “Hi Mom,” My voice fades out in a whoosh as she squeezes me through the door she threw open..

  “Reggie, Breanna’s home!” She calls towards the house, just inches away from my ear. My dad comes out of the house, bigger than life. If I had any hope of sneaking in unnoticed, they were dashed now. The whole neighborhood probably knows I’m here.

  “There’s my girl!” He bellows, wrapping his arms around me. They act as if I wasn't here just a few weeks ago for Thanksgiving. But as I melt into his big teddy bear body, I realize I don’t mind. It just feels good to be home.

  My mom fusses over me and grabs my purse from my car, as if my two hour drive rendered me too exhausted to lift a few pounds. My dad opens the trunk to get my luggage, but my suitcase is intercepted by two strong, square hands. I didn’t even need to look up to know whose they are.

  My eyes are fixed, staring and focused as he lifts my luggage out of the trunk. His muscles are flexing and tight, as if putting on a show just for me. He smiles with his straight white teeth, and I try to remember basic manners.

  “Welcome home, Breezy,” he says, his blue eyes sparkling. “Suitcase going to your room?”

  “Umm, yeah.” I manage, as I watch his tall, powerful frame carry my belongings inside. Once he disappears, I glance back across the road to see his friend still warming up.

  “Thank you, Sean. You didn’t have to do that,” my dad says once we are standing in the living room.

  “It’s no problem, sir,” Sean answers respectfully. “We need to watch that knee of yours.”

  “What’s wrong with your knee?” I ask, trying to keep the sudden worry from my voice.

  My parents exchange glances and Sean looks as though he wants to shrink into the floor for bringing it up.

  “Your daddy just slipped on the ice the other day. Sean shoveled the sidewalk though, so it shouldn’t be an issue anymore,” my mom explains, waving her hands as if it's no big deal.

  “Daddy! You need to be careful!” I exclaim, and immediately regret doing so. My prideful father looks to the door, not meeting my eye. Both of my parents are older than any of my friend’s parents. They'd struggled for years to have children, and I only came along once they had given up. Having older parents is both a blessing and a curse. They are able to give me everything I want, but now that they are showing signs of age, I realize how frightening it will be to face upcoming issues alone.

  “It was just a little slip. Nothing major,” Dad says, finally meeting my eyes. The deep smile lines around his mouth crease even further as he grins at me.

  “Do you want anything to eat, Sean?” My mom asks, trying to change the subject.

  “No thank you, Ma’am,” he says politely. “I’m about to go for a run. I need to get going. My friend’s waiting for me to start. You guys are coming to the Christmas Eve party my parents are throwing, right?” His eyes are on me as he asks.

  "We never miss it," my mom smiles.

  My breath hitches as he brushes softly past me. The scent of his subtle cologne permeates the air around me, and all the efforts I have taken to forget him are fruitless. I still adore him.

  “I’ll tell Sophie you’re here,” he turns to say with a charming smile. “She’s been waiting for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say, trying desperately to think of something witty to add. My dad’s fall has me flustered, but it’s more than that. When Sean’s around, I’m starstruck.

  It's like my mind reduces every attribute and accomplishment of mine until I’m just a silly girl with a crush on a man who can have anyone he wants.

  And he knows it.

  Sean

  Everytime I see her she looks better and better. Of course, Breanna has always been gorgeous. She has these high cheekbones that make her look pristine and unattainable, but her thick curves beg to be touched. She has the kind of body that can handle anything, and that’s a dangerous thought that takes my mind places I've forbidden it go.

  I've never been a fan of rules, though.

  Going away for college only made it worse. The distance almost made it easier to envision us hooking up. When I lived across the street, it was too intimidating. Hell, she’s intimidating. A frightening combination of smart and sexy.

  Besides, my parents always dissuaded me from pursuing her. Well, they've never outright said it, but it was implied. The closest they've come to mentioning it was the morning Bree came out of Sophie's room wearing a long shirt that barely covered the curve of her ass. Her dusky skin was glowing in the morning sunlight, and all I could imagine was what she'd look like in one of my shirts instead. My jaw must have been on the floor, because my dad kicked me from under the table and shook his head.

  I never understood their reasoning. Maybe it's the proximity. It's hard to keep me away from girls anyway, let alone one across the street.

  But more likely, it's because she’s Soph’s best friend. Anything to protect Sophie's Fragility. Not that Sophie has even once extended me the same courtesy of keeping friends off limits. If I had a dollar for every teammate of mine she’s tried to date, I could easily afford the new dual headers I've been eyeing for my bike.

  I love my little sister more than anything, but she is the biggest pain in the ass. Staying away from her friend was torture, almost impossible. But after seeing Bree today, I'm not sure it's even worth it to try.

  There's no way that she could be coming home from college single, though. Girls like her get snapped up once they enter the real world. Boys don't know how to handle them in high school, but a man who's pursuing his goals? Once he's set his ambition on a woman, he's nearly unstoppable.

  Good thing I've got a secret weapon.

  “Who’s that?” Mike asks as I join him on the lawn. His eyes are fixed on Breanna’s house, and despite him being my best friend at college, I suddenly feel like punching him so hard that he can’t see.

  “She’s not for you,” I say darkly. He senses the threat in my words and shrugs.

  “Well, there’s always your sister,” Mike says. I can tell he is only half joking. I've see the looks exchanged between them.

  “Whatever,” I say, trying to be dismissive. I'm done trying to stop Sophie from hooking up with my teammates. At least it'll keep him away from Breanna. But Mike is watching my face carefully, trying to decide if I'm giving him permission to get with my sister.

  "So are we running, or fucking talking?” I change the subject.

  Mike and I keep pace together, carefully dodging patches of ice. He’s our team's best lineman, and when he didn’t have enough cash to fly home for Christmas, I offered to let him spend the holidays with my family. I should have known better than to bring him around Sophie.

  “So what is there to do for fun around here?” Mike asks through ragged breaths. I know he is looking to party.

  “I’ll text some buddies,” I answer. Truth is, my phone has been blowing up ever since I got home. It seems like everyone I went to high school with wants to hang out. Even people I was never close with. I guess that’s what happens when you become starting QB for a ranked team. Everyone wants a piece of the fame.

  It made it difficult to know who to trust. I find myself seeking friendships that were established before my face was plastered across sports networks. In college, that me
ans that I don’t have many options besides my teammates.

  Girls, on the other hand, I have more options than I can handle. Not saying that they are interested in me for the right reasons, but I’m safe. I won’t get tied down. Not with a random from college, no matter how determined they may be. I have practice holding my ground against persistent girls.

  And there aren't many girls more persistent than my ex, Tiffany. I guess you would call her an ex, anyway. She was my longest relationship, despite being on and off again. But that was high school stuff, nothing serious, although she doesn't seem to think so.

  In her mind, this is just one of our off periods. She thinks under the right circumstance, I’ll run back to her. So much so that she tried to enroll in the same college where I was accepted.

  Unfortunately for her, she was too vapid to actually bother getting an education. She moved back home after being put on academic probation. Still, she finds any reason to try to get my attention. She writes comments at the bottom of articles about me and shows up to games, often making scenes. Once, the press even interviewed her about my high school accomplishments. As if she knew anything other than the status I brought.

  “How much longer?” Mike asks. We're supposed to be running a minimum of two miles a day and keeping with our lifting regimen. Coach explained that doing so was the only way we’d be allowed to leave home for the holidays. He wants us in fighting shape for the semi-finals next week.

  “We can head back,” I say after checking the distance. We turn at the end of the sidewalk, still keeping pace. I immediately regret our route.

  Standing in the middle of her snow packed lawn is Tiffany. She is wearing a low-cut top with no coat. Not even a sweater. Her blonde hair is piled up in one of those buns that are supposed to look low effort, but if you’ve spent any time waiting for a girl to get ready, you know they take forever to construct. Her makeup is caked on heavy, as if she’s going to a bar. The reflection of light from the white snow makes it even harsher.