FOOTBALL ROMANCE: Tight (Bad Boy Alpha Male College Football Player and First Time Virgin) (Contemporary New Adult Athlete Sports Romance) by Bridget Lang Page B
Authors: Bridget Lang
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Tonight I have no doubt I’ll be repaid for the kindness of keeping him from pounding those scared kids into the floor with a lovely black eye that everyone at work will avoid asking me about.
My co-workers have already heard all the stupid, repetitive lies; they aren’t interested in hearing them again.
“Aaron, please try to calm down,” I try to talk comfortingly. I’m too exhausted to be scared of what I know is coming when we get home. I never thought I’d feel this exhausted at the age of 24.
“Those little fucks cheated me out of my money!” Aaron bellows, still scrambling to get around me and back into the bar. “They fucking hustled me!”
I lean into his body trying to nonchalantly block him with mine. The car is in sight. “I know, baby,” I lie, placating him, “but you can’t just go after them. The bartender said we have to leave.”
“I can’t?!” Aaron whips around to face me, his eyes wild and bloodshot.
Oh crap! I said the wrong thing.
“Did you just tell me what I can’t do, you little cunt?”
Oh, God. I hoped he would have at least waited until we were in the car. “No, baby, that’s not…”
“Not what? Not what?” He grabs my hair and starts yanking me around by it, bringing me to my knees. “Not you trying to fucking control me? You little lying bitch, that’s all you ever do. You just want to fucking control me.”
“No, I swear,” I can feel eyes on us from all over the parking lot. No one will intervene. No one will try to stop him - they never do. Most will look away or leave. Some will watch in disgust. Those who watch will be more disgusted by me taking a beating than by him giving me one. I will just have to endure it, as always.
“I’m not trying to control you. You’re in charge, okay, baby? You’re the boss. Please, let’s just go home, I’ll give you a massage and you can relax -”
My words are cut short by a slamming punch to my jaw. I’m sent reeling backwards, knocked flat on the ground. I lie sprawled out on the pavement with Aaron ranting and screaming above me, but I’m not listening. I want to fucking kill him, the tears in my eyes are from humiliation rather than pain, although my jaw throbs. But I know my 5’2” frame springing up and throwing lame punches at him won’t diffuse the situation, it will make it worse for me.
Just keep breathing, I remind myself, trying to swallow the fear that crawls up my throat like bile. I’ve been through this before, and I will make it through this time.
Just keep breathing, stay still, don’t fight back, don’t talk. Don’t make this last longer than it has to. You’ll get past this. I wince when I feel his kicks on my back, legs, and stomach, but I just curl into a ball with my arms over my face.
$623.52.
As the kicks continue, sharp painful blows with his boot, I just keep reminding myself of the $623.52 that I have stashed under the false bottom of my sock drawer. Soon I’ll have enough to get away from this psycho-asshole, to go somewhere else, start a new life, become a new person.
I just need a little more money.
I am suddenly aware of another male voice, and the kicks abruptly cease. I peek out from beneath my arms. A heavily-muscled man with dark blonde hair has Aaron by the shirt collar. He delivers a vicious punch to Aaron’s stomach.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” the guy bellows, his voice is deep and smooth but I detect an underlying tremor of rage. “Think you’re such a big man, beating up on a little woman, you piece of shit? That make you feel strong?” The larger man throws Aaron against the hood of my car. “Come on, man, show me how tough you are now!”
Aaron doubles over, coughing, and I
My co-workers have already heard all the stupid, repetitive lies; they aren’t interested in hearing them again.
“Aaron, please try to calm down,” I try to talk comfortingly. I’m too exhausted to be scared of what I know is coming when we get home. I never thought I’d feel this exhausted at the age of 24.
“Those little fucks cheated me out of my money!” Aaron bellows, still scrambling to get around me and back into the bar. “They fucking hustled me!”
I lean into his body trying to nonchalantly block him with mine. The car is in sight. “I know, baby,” I lie, placating him, “but you can’t just go after them. The bartender said we have to leave.”
“I can’t?!” Aaron whips around to face me, his eyes wild and bloodshot.
Oh crap! I said the wrong thing.
“Did you just tell me what I can’t do, you little cunt?”
Oh, God. I hoped he would have at least waited until we were in the car. “No, baby, that’s not…”
“Not what? Not what?” He grabs my hair and starts yanking me around by it, bringing me to my knees. “Not you trying to fucking control me? You little lying bitch, that’s all you ever do. You just want to fucking control me.”
“No, I swear,” I can feel eyes on us from all over the parking lot. No one will intervene. No one will try to stop him - they never do. Most will look away or leave. Some will watch in disgust. Those who watch will be more disgusted by me taking a beating than by him giving me one. I will just have to endure it, as always.
“I’m not trying to control you. You’re in charge, okay, baby? You’re the boss. Please, let’s just go home, I’ll give you a massage and you can relax -”
My words are cut short by a slamming punch to my jaw. I’m sent reeling backwards, knocked flat on the ground. I lie sprawled out on the pavement with Aaron ranting and screaming above me, but I’m not listening. I want to fucking kill him, the tears in my eyes are from humiliation rather than pain, although my jaw throbs. But I know my 5’2” frame springing up and throwing lame punches at him won’t diffuse the situation, it will make it worse for me.
Just keep breathing, I remind myself, trying to swallow the fear that crawls up my throat like bile. I’ve been through this before, and I will make it through this time.
Just keep breathing, stay still, don’t fight back, don’t talk. Don’t make this last longer than it has to. You’ll get past this. I wince when I feel his kicks on my back, legs, and stomach, but I just curl into a ball with my arms over my face.
$623.52.
As the kicks continue, sharp painful blows with his boot, I just keep reminding myself of the $623.52 that I have stashed under the false bottom of my sock drawer. Soon I’ll have enough to get away from this psycho-asshole, to go somewhere else, start a new life, become a new person.
I just need a little more money.
I am suddenly aware of another male voice, and the kicks abruptly cease. I peek out from beneath my arms. A heavily-muscled man with dark blonde hair has Aaron by the shirt collar. He delivers a vicious punch to Aaron’s stomach.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” the guy bellows, his voice is deep and smooth but I detect an underlying tremor of rage. “Think you’re such a big man, beating up on a little woman, you piece of shit? That make you feel strong?” The larger man throws Aaron against the hood of my car. “Come on, man, show me how tough you are now!”
Aaron doubles over, coughing, and I
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