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Fifty Yard Line 4
Brady
Thesecurityguardshut the door for her, and I looked over at Poppy Ziegler and asked, “Your place or mine?”
“Anywhere you want to go.” She smiled at me. I was trying really hard not to like this journalist. She was the enemy. My enemy. But her parents were not around, and I was part of the reason she was…broken. “I live in the dorms.”
“My place then. I live in an apartment. Privacy.” I thought about that and clarified, “At least more privacy than the dorms. Plus…I don’t know.”
“I have needs.” She had her eyes closed. My lips twitched with the smile.
“That so?” I tried not to laugh. I wondered if she was this funny without the meds in her.
“In addition to the rest of the damages, I’m on my—”
“Right. Yeah. Not a problem. I have that covered.” I was almost positive Prissy would have something to help me. If not, she could easily pick some up on her way home from wherever she was this evening.
“Oh.” She didn’t follow-up with any other words.
I don’t know why I felt the need to clarify what woman was in my home, but I did.
“My cousin is my roommate. I’ll borrow some supplies from her. When will your parents be here?” I asked.
“Tomorrow night. My roommate is at a funeral. I have no one.” She frowned and looked so sad.
“You have me. I’m…here.” She didn’t know me, but what choice did she have?
She looked out the window. Then she said, “Sometimes I dream about being kidnapped by a really sexy alien. You know? Someone who can pluck me up out of this life I am living and drop me into another one where I’m special…at least to him.”
I had no words for this conversation.
She didn’t need me to say anything. She kept on the entire drive about this romance series she had read about these abducted women and their new alien boyfriends who had dicks that were ribbed, for her pleasure, which she snickered at. It was probably the most informative, yet inappropriate conversation I almost had with someone. I didn’t contribute, but I learned quite a bit.
We were on the elevator and alone, thankfully, when she said in conclusion to this whole alien romance fantasy of hers, “I mean bend over, right? Plenty of animals have tails, bend the fuck over and get in there.”
I gulped. She could hold her own in a locker room for damn sure. What was I supposed to say? I shrugged and said, “I mean, obviously.”
“You…you know.” She looked me up and down without an ounce of hesitation or reservation and said while looking me in the eyes, “You look like you know what to do with a woman.”
Rarely. Hence the bachelor life I had been fine with living. My father loved my mother from the day they met in middle school until the day he died. He had two letters and I would never give her that one. My uncle only gave it to me right before I left for college because he knew I was not coming back. My mother had divorced him, remarried, and left me to fend for myself within a week of his last deployment, and that man still loved her.
I was never going to let someone hurt me like that. Never.
Love made him weak. I often wondered if she hadn’t divorced him if he would still be alive. Maybe he did what he did to save those other guys. That’s what they all said. He saved them. Maybe he did what he did because I wasn’t enough to make him wait for someone else to do it. My head was all fucked up tonight thanks to the game, the press, the interesting woman I brought home with me, and I wasn’t coming off the anesthesia or pain killers.
I just smiled down at this voluptuous yet small creature and thanked God the elevator doors opened so I could indicate our exit rather than tell her any of those thoughts I was having. I unlocked the door, and said, “We have pizza. Or…I can make something for you.”
I was so tired, but now I had to take care of someone.
“I don’t think so.” She stood there, looking around without being too obvious.
“We have a guest room. It’s a three-bedroom apartment. I have a room, she has a room, and the guest room doubles as an office space, but there is a bed in it.” I indicated and she followed. She stopped outside that room and looked at the room across from it, mine. She moved toward it, and I said, “Or I could stay in the guest room.”
“Couldn’t you just stay with me?” she asked. “I’m nervous. What if I wake up and I don’t know where I am? What if I don’t wake up?”
“You’ll wake up. They wouldn’t have discharged you if they thought it was that bad.” I yawned. My bed was so awesome. It was practically calling for me.
“Okay.” She looked down.
