Offside: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read online

“Is that because you reckon you won’t be able to resist me.”

  “I’ll tell you that when I know you’re trying to seduce me.”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t expect it.”

  “I didn’t expect it so soon.”

  “Maybe I’m just playing around to be nice.”

  “With any luck, you are. I don’t think I could cope with another jock in my life.”

  “English men aren’t jocks.”

  “And American women aren’t that easy.”

  “I’ve got sixteen weeks.”

  “Then you better start showing me your true intentions.”

  Jasper isn’t the first sportsman to hit on me and he’s not going to be the last, even if I know he’s only semi serious. He’s got the tattoos, the tight ass and the perfect smile, but he’s not for me. Even if I wasn’t with Topher, he wouldn’t be able to convince me, not after only one day. I can see potential right away, but Jasper is here in a completely different capacity, and my life has already gone off in a different direction. Jasper’s probably plying it on thick just on the off chance, plus he’s probably looking to get laid anyway and hasn’t got any other nearby opportunities. I reckon it’s just a competitive thing for him more than anything else, like a dog marking its territory. It probably has nothing to do with me at all. The phrase anything in a skirt comes to mind.

  Jasper wants another drink but I need to get home. If this wasn’t the first night of him being here I might be tempted to stick around and get a taxi home, but I know I’m going to get shit from Topher for staying out late anyway, and I don’t want to push it. Maybe in a month I’ll trust Jasper enough to leave him here, but right now he’s got that look in his eye that tells me he wants to create mischief and on my head it’ll be if this gets out of hand.

  We settle up, get back in the car and head out on the interstate towards his motel.

  “We should do that again.”

  “Let’s just concentrate on one thing at a time. When you’ve settled into the club, you’ve got a bit more settled into your new surroundings and Moxlin are winning again, I don’t see any reason not to.”

  “Is that it now then? You ease me in and then leave me alone.”

  “Tomorrow I’m releasing you into the wild.”

  “They that bad?”

  “No, not at all. You’ll fit right in.”

  “What time are you coming round for me?”

  “Be ready at eight.”

  “You’re going to get sick of seeing me.”

  “You might find it’s the other way round.”

  I leave Jasper Stone on his doorstep, and he waves at me as I pull away from his motel. I don’t do that with every player, but it isn’t everyday we get a transfer in from across the pond, and I wanted to get a few hours with him before this season begins and the shit hits the fan. Jasper seems upbeat, relaxed, not at all fazed by what’s around the corner for him, but I guess there isn’t all that much pressure on him compared to the rest of the team and Dad and I.

  If he fucks up, it isn’t his game. If he does well, he’s a hero. The boy can’t lose. Whatever happens, he’s a perfect sell for Moxlin. Shirts with his name on are going to fly off the shelves. He’s smoking hot, he’s English, he’s covered in sexy tattoos, he’s well built and he’s in better shape than most of the players we’ve got already.

  Even before he starts tomorrow I can tell they are going to hate him, and none more so than Topher. Topher’s jealous of every single player in the team that even so much as talks to me, so I know for a fact as soon as he sees Jasper fooling around to get my attention, whether he means to be flirting or not, he’s going to throw his fucking toys right out of the pram.

  Like Topher’s got anything to worry about at all. If anything, it should be the other way round.

  Jasper

  Well that was unexpected. Alright, I could easily have sunk three or four more pints and then carried on again somewhere else, but Penny didn’t have to take me out at all, so anything was better than nothing I guess.

  She’s a fun girl. Hot, sexy, tight little ass, cute eyes, curly little ringlets through her hair I’d love to grab on to. It’s a shame she’s out of bounds. I bet her boyfriend, sorry her fiance, is a complete dick as well. All quarterbacks are dicks, especially ones that have agreed to marry the boss’s daughter. Talk about sycophantic. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow. It’s going to be fun flirting with Penny in front of him if he is, even if there’s no chance she’s likely to be affected by it.

  I order take away and get it charged to the hotel bill. A thick ass pizza that’s more dough than topping, half of which I have to leave because I just can’t manage it. It tastes alright, but the portion size is way off the scale, even for me. That’s the last time I order ‘family’ in this country and think it’s right for me.

  When I’m done with that, and I can’t find anywhere close by to have a nightcap, I decide to call it a day, climb into bed and get some rest before the training session in the morning. It’s not exactly rock and roll, and in this piece-of-shit motel I feel less like an international sports star than I ever have in my life, but I know it isn’t permanent and pretty soon I’ll be making Moxlin my own, just like I did London.

  They can try and keep me down, but I’m not going to let them do it for long. I’m just too upbeat for it. I’ve always been able to turn a bad situation into a positive one and look for the silver lining in every grey cloud.

  I reckon the silver lining here is going to be Penny, and as I climb into a bed that’s too hard and too short for my liking, it’s her not the game that I begin to think about. I’ve always been a sucker for a good looking girl, but that isn’t just it with this one. She seems cool, like she could be a good friend, and that feels just as important right now as getting laid does.

  If the rest of the team turn out to be dicks, which is highly likely, at least I’ll have Penny on my side. It could be a long season without her, especially if this game is as different to rugby as she makes out.

  I don’t know how it can be, but I guess we’ll see tomorrow.

  Also, that better not be the only bar in Moxlin. If we win at the weekend, I’m going to make Penny agree to take me out clubbing. As a friend, of course. I’m going to have to get laid at some point, especially if I’m going to have to make do playing football not rugby.

  I’m a simple man and I’m not satisfied in my life unless I’m running with a ball into a wall of people, fucking good looking girls or getting drunk and going wild. That’s the Jasper Stone philosophy. Have a good time while you can. I suspect Penny’s got a similar philosophy too and if she hasn’t, she just might come round to my way of thinking.

  I wonder who we’re meant to be playing this weekend. I wonder too, whether they’ll want me to start.

  I hope Dougie’s working on getting my ban lifted, because if this goes to shit, which it clearly has the potential to do, I’m going to need something to keep me busy when I get home.

  Before all of that though, I need to get myself a new place to stay. I bet Topher’s having the time of his life curled up next to Penny’s perfection, while I have to stick my legs out of the side of this sorry excuse for a bed, just so I can fit in it. Let’s see if we can get that changed and if we can, how long it takes me.

  Two.

  Jasper

  I’ve met the boss, the boss’s daughter, the press, I’ve officially sworn my allegiance and become a Tiger and today is the first day my career as a professional American footballer begins for real. I don’t expect it to start at six am. I don’t expect it to be Topher pulling me out of a dream about his fiancee instead of Penny herself, waking me up with cookies and milk and driving me to the training ground.

  “So this is you.”

  “This is me.”

  “You’re way smaller than I thought you’d be. Fatter too.”

  Topher looks like he’s just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. Perfectly coiffured hair, square jaw y
ou could bang tent pegs in with, annoying shit-eating grin.

  “Where’s Penny?”

  “Word of advice for you, hotshot. The sooner you start forgetting about Penny, the easier it’s going to be for you here.”

  What an absolute dick. I knew it already. I knew he was going to be that guy. How the fuck did he make Penny fall in love with him? She seems far too sweet and intelligent to fall for an asshole like this.

  “That how it’s going to be?”

  “That’s how it’s going to be. None of us invited you here, and the last thing I want is to babysit. When I say jump-.”

  “Yeah I get it, I say how high.”

  “Boom. You and I are gonna get on alright, English.”

  “Jasper.”

  I try and get in the car but Topher holds up his hand to stop me.

  “I take it you’ve come to pick me up.”

  “I came to train you. You look like you need it.”

  “So let’s get to the ground and train.”

  “That’s what we’re doing, English. Moxlin Tigers training ground is ten miles that way. I’m going to drive and you’re going to run.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Do I look like I’m joking you?”

  “Penny know you’re here?”

  “Harrison put me in charge of you. If you don’t perform, I get it in the neck.”

  “Running ten miles isn’t American football.”

  “Listen, I need to know I can trust you on the field. Penny reckons you can run fast, which means I need to know that if I hand you the ball you can cope with the responsibility of it.”

  “What else did Penny tell you about me?”

  “That you’re here because you can’t stay out of trouble.”

  “I’m here because you can’t win. Something about a quarterback firing blanks.”

  Topher’s face sours and I know I’ve riled him.

  “I can take the long way round if you want.”

  “Fuck it.”

  “Ten miles, English. Don’t waste all of your energy before we’ve begun.”

  Topher winds up the window and pulls away, out of the parking lot of the motel and up the road. I watch him for a while until he pulls up about a hundred meters away and aggressively beeps his horn.

  “Well come on, Harrison’ll be pissed if you miss your first session.”

  I guess I should have expected this. I would probably have done the same myself if the situation were reversed, so I figure I just have to get on with it. It’s better that he’s not a good guy anyway. If he were, I’d feel much worse about stealing his girlfriend.

  Topher can play the hero all he wants, once a dick always a dick in my book. I just hope the rest of the team aren’t the same. He probably feels threatened, which is why he’s decided to stamp his authority all over me as soon as the opportunity to do so presented itself. It can’t be easy for the star quarterback to have someone come in that’s more famous, better looking and a much better athlete than him. That’s got to hurt. That’ll be what all this is about. Compensating for his complete and utter inadequacies.

  It takes an hour and a half to get to the camp and I swear I run more like eleven miles than ten. Topher parks up his car, takes one look at me sweating balls and then tosses a drink my way.

  “Not bad, English. Not bad. Not great, but whatever. It’s the first day. Room for improvement.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Fuck me? Same again tomorrow then I suppose.”

  We make our way to the locker room where several people have already arrived and are busy getting ready for the session. Harrison is here too, a big ledger book in his hands I guess must be full of plays he wants us to practise. I get nods and weird hostile looks typical of this kind of environment. I look for Penny too, but she isn’t around.

  “He make you run?”

  I nod. “What?” Topher says, defending himself. “Best way to start.”

  Harrison takes control, while I find an empty seat.

  “Listen up. This is Jasper, he knows fuck all about football, but apparently he’s pretty handy with a rugby ball. Look after him.”

  “What up, Jasper?”

  Topher passes me shoulder pads and a helmet, both far too small for me.

  “Where the fuck are Michaels and Morrell?”

  “Late.”

  “I want two hours training plays picking up from last week. Topher get Jasper up to speed. I want him subbing Mosley out.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Put him in your shadow Mosley. Jasper, you show these boys what you can do.”

  “Give me a ball and I’ll show you what I can do.”

  “This isn’t rugby, Harrison.”

  “This isn’t England either.”

  “Then take it slow, and Jasper, whatever the fuck you do, don’t injure yourself. Someone get him a helmet that fits.”

  “You subbing me out. This mother fucker comes in from across the pond to take my position.”

  The guy who I guess is Mosley is looking at me as though I were a piece of shit he’s just had the misfortune to stand on.

  “Nobody’s subbing no-one out. Just show him the plays.”

  Mosley comes over to me.

  “You know what a running back is?”

  “No.”

  “Gotta be fucking kidding me.”

  “He don’t know shit.”

  “What do you know, English?”

  I’ve got a crowd around me now, all glaring at me waiting for me to say something that makes me sound like I know what the fuck we are doing. The thing is, I don’t.

  “I know Moxlin haven’t won anything for two years, which tells me none of you lot know what the fuck you are doing. Give me the ball and tell me what I can and can’t do with it, and we’ll see just how well I fit in.”

  Mosley shakes his head.

  “You’ve got your pads on back to front.”

  There are more people, more faces and more names than I can remember. I can’t believe how fucking technical all of it is compared to how we train back home. I’d be running into pads and tossing the ball across the field by now, but here I have to listen to a fucking lecture before I get a chance to play. When I do, and we’ve all lined up in the formation Topher wants, the whole thing is over before I get a chance to even work out what it is that’s supposed to be going on.

  Not only that, they keep on saying shit that makes absolutely no sense at all. Alright, it’s some kind of code that makes perfect sense to everyone else but me. Half way through the third play I catch on, and I figure they’re saying some shit just to rile me up.

  “You fuck up in England or what?”

  “I heard you fucked up which is why I’m here.”

  “Not the way I’ve heard it told.”

  Finally the ball comes to me. Finally it seems like we’re actually doing something more than just lining up in a formation and breaking it down ten seconds later. It goes like this.

  “I’m going to fake throw the ball and pass it to you.”

  “Alright.”

  “You run with it as far and as fast as you can.”

  “Alright.”

  “Don’t fuck up.”

  “I won’t if you don’t.”

  The ball comes to me, the wall splits in the center, I see a gap and go for it. I’m on my ass less than half a second later, the wind knocked out of me so quickly I think I’m going to puke. I wait for six bodies to peel themselves off me, someone to take their elbow out of my throat and someone else to take their knee out of my groin. That shit was fucking telegraphed, and by the way Topher is bent over pissing himself, there was no way I was meant to get any further than I did.

  “Bad luck, English.”

  I stand up, rub my neck and toss the ball back to him.

  “That the best you’ve got?”

  “Alright, let’s go again.”

  We repeat the play three more times, and each time I end up on my ass with a p
ile of bodies stacked up on top of me.

  I know they’re just doing this shit to test my mettle, but there is no way I’m going to let them get to me. I’ve been a sportsman for long enough to know that this is how people get tested, especially on their first day at training, and if I show any signs of weakness at all the rest of my time here is going to be hell.

  I’m getting beaten up but it’s going to be worth it. Each sack I take now is going to make me stand out like a hero. And I can take it. I could take it without the pads on. These guys are pussies. I tell them that too, and it has the desired effect.

  On the fifth run through of the very same play, when the ball gets passed to me and they expect me to run straight through the gap that gets created just for that purpose, a kind of funnel that I know will end with me on the bottom of a big pile of skin again and every single one of these assholes laughing at the new guy, I take things into my own hands. Fuck it. I fake a run through the center, only to duck out round the side, skip a tackle and drop into a higher gear. I’m fast I know that, and I know if I get around the wall of them on the outside, no-one's going to be able to catch me.

  They see it too late, and when I skip that first tackle I’ve got two yards in my stride and I’m pulling away. When I set the ball down in the end zone, no single player closer than two metres away, I make a big thing of it just to piss them off. I do a victory dance and I smash my helmet on the floor and I make every single player realize exactly who they are dealing with.

  “Asshole.”

  “What’s the matter? You didn’t think I was that fast, Mosley?”

  I get it twice as hard because of that, but it’s definitely worth it. These guys can pound me all they want, but at the end of the day we all know who’s winning. It doesn’t take me long to pick up the rules of this stupid game, and it doesn’t take them long to realize I know how to play their game better than some of them play it too. I can run, I can hold the ball, I can hold my own too, the only thing I can’t wrap my head around are the fucking commands.

  When the session is over, I’m spent. Ten miles to get here and another six or seven on the field, my whole body is aching and I need a rest.

  “You’re fucking shit”, Topher tells me. “You play like that in a game, we’re going to lose.”