Taking A Risk by Karen Monroe

Analise

Will texted me after the game, asking him to meet him outside the tunnel. I had to ask a security guard for directions, but it was easy to find. All I had to do was follow the chants.

There’s a rope partition blocking the fans. The crowd is pretty thick, but Nate shoulders his way through to the front. I smile apologetically at the older woman dressed from head to toe in orange. She looks none too pleased with my little brother.

“Sorry,” I apologize. “It’s his first game. He’s excited.”

The woman snorts like she doesn’t give a shit, and I roll my eyes.

Bitch!

There’s a loud shout from the crowd as a fleet of three coaches roll up. I’m not sure why everyone is clapping. Maybe it’s a football thing.

Nate and Shelby join in with the chanting. I figure it’s the way everyone passes the time. Whenever the cheers quiet, someone inevitably starts another. I’m not sure how long we have to wait. It’s been close to forty-five minutes already.

Just then there’s several loud shouts and claps as a few players make their way out of the tunnel.

They must not be important because no one stops them for an autograph.

A steady trickle turns into a stream as more players emerge.

The popular ones are feted with extra applause and often flagged down for autographs and selfies. Griffin Mackenzie gets the loudest cheers. His arm is wrapped around a blond, but I can’t see her face. I notice he doesn’t head for the bus, walking off instead toward a parking lot.

William comes out shortly after, and Nate jumps beside me.

“I see him. Will!” He calls out excitedly.

The bitchy woman next to us perks up. “You know him?”

I act like I don’t hear her and keep my gaze on William. He’s wearing sweat pants, a T-shirt, and a pair of slides. A large gym bag is hanging from his shoulder. He looks tired, which is to be expected, but there’s something about him that feels off.

My eyes widen as he draws closer, and I notice all the scratches covering his arms and neck. He looks like he’s been mauled by a wild animal.

“Hey!” He says in way of greeting. “Sorry you had to wait.”

He motions for us to step over the rope partition, so we’re away from the crowd.

“No problem. It wasn’t too long. Congratulations, by the way.” I’d like to give him a kiss, but I’m conscious of all the eyes on us.

He nods like he understands, then smiles at Nate and Shelby. “You guys enjoy the game?”

“Yeah,” they both say in unison.

“What do you have planned for later?” He asks, looking back at me.

“Just going back to the house. You wanna come with us?” I ask, surprising myself because I hadn’t been planning on inviting him.

His eyes light up. “Yeah. Where you parked at?”

Damn. I forgot we didn’t park at the stadium. “I parked on campus. We caught the shuttle.”

“Meet me at the football complex. It’s near the practice field.”

I nod, but I don’t know where the practice field is, but I figure it shouldn’t be too hard to find.

William palms my face, caressing my cheek. His hand feels like a furnace.

“Are you alright?”

He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

I don’t believe him. His eyes are glassy, like he’s been drinking. I think I know what’s wrong with him, but I don’t want to put him on the spot.

Nodding, I lean my face into his hand. “Okay. I’ll meet you there,” I reply softly.

He smiles and waves bye before heading toward one of the buses. I watch him with concern until he boards, then smile as he waves one last time through the darkened window.

The football complexis easy to find, but it takes a while to get a shuttle back to the campus. By the time I pull into the roundabout, William’s standing with a few other players who also appear to be waiting for a ride.

“Shelby, get in the back,” I order.

“I called shotgun,” she cries.

I smack her arm and she sighs, “Fine.” Then she crawls over the console, almost diving into the backseat.

My little hoopty sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the shiny luxury vehicles. I don’t want to embarrass William with my shitty car, but when he sees me he smiles, then waves off from the guys he’s talking to.

I pull up to the curb and, out of courtesy for his long legs, shift the passenger seat all the way back.

Shelby yelps. “Hey! I’m sitting here.”

“Scoot over,” I demand, just as William opens the passenger door.

He sticks his head inside, smiling at me, then Shelby and Nate. “You made it.” He pats his gym bag. “Pop the trunk.”

I release the latch, grateful it’s one of the few things that still work. I’m about to ask if he needs help, but he’s already shutting the trunk and sitting beside me in an instant. He looks more alert than when I last saw him, but I know the signs of a concussion.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

“Naw, I caught a bite at the cafeteria. But, I’ll probably be hungry again in a couple of hours,” he laughs.

I notice how he shades his eyes and grits his teeth as we pass under a bright street lamp. He’s trying hard to mask his pain with a smile.

Laying a hand on his thigh, I squeeze gently, and murmur, “Close your eyes. Lean back the seat.”

William looks over with a weary smile, his large fingers tracing patterns on my arm. I smile back before removing my hand. Then I lower his sun visor, hoping that will help block out the light.

Nate and Shelby stay quiet in the backseat, obviously getting the hint after I shut off the radio.

By the time I park under the carport in the driveway, William is fast asleep. I don’t wake him, instead I gesture to Nate and Shelby with a finger to my lips.

“You’re going to make him sleep in the car?” Nate whispers, his expression alarmed.

“No, dummy,” I reply in a hushed voice. “Get his bag from the trunk.” I turn next to Shelby. “Go find as many blankets as you can and put them in my bedroom.”

Nate struggles with William’s gym bag while Shelby and I run into the house. She bounds up the stairs while I push the ottoman chest near the front door into my bedroom. The square wooden legs catch on the carpet. I have to put some muscle into it.

I’m huffing and puffing when I finally align the plush stool along the edge of my bed. Shelby runs in a few moments later with an arm full of blankets.

God bless her! She even pulled off the comforter from her own bed.

She stares blankly at the stool, then nods with understanding. “Ah… I see what you’re doing.”

Together we arrange the blankets and comforter on the ottoman so the height matches the bed. There’s still about a foot of a gap of space, but Shelby has the bright idea to use the cushions from the sofa.

Perfect!

Now there’ll be enough room for William to stretch out without his feet hanging off the bed.

I turn toward Shelby, my hands clasp together. “Thanks. You and Nate head over to Tildee’s.”

Shelby frowns. “Why? It’s not like we don’t know you two are having sex.”

“Yeah. That’s all you and Tildee talk about,” Nate pipes from the doorway as he drops William’s bag.

I feel my cheeks heat, but I keep my expression stern. “Fine. Just go to your rooms and stay out of the way. He needs to rest.”

“C’mon, little brother,” Shelby says, hustling Nate from the room.

They whisper to each other as they walk away.

I would have insisted they go to Tildee’s if William was feeling better, but I know he’s in no shape for anything but sleep.

Grabbing a couple of headscarves from a drawer, I toss one over the lamp in my bedroom and one over the lamp in the living room. I flick off any remaining lights before heading back toward the car.

William is still asleep, snoring loudly. I feel bad for waking him.

Placing my hand on his chest, I lean close to his ear. “William. Wake up.”

He stirs, but doesn’t open his eyes.

I shake him gently. “William, you can’t sleep in the car. Wake—”

His brown eyes flash open, and his large hand grasps my wrist. I freeze, not wanting to startle him further.

“I’ve been dreaming about you. Ever since we met. I can’t stop thinking about you,” he says huskily.

I don’t have an answer for that. Silence seems like the best response.

William continues, “I don’t think I can let you go. I want you too much.”

I try to shush him, but he shakes his head. “Give me a kiss.”

He’s loopy, likely not thinking straight. I want to keep him compliant, so I lean forward to lay a gentle peck on his lips, resting a hand on his stubbled cheek. His skin feels feverish.

I smile at him encouragingly, then tug on his arm. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside.”

His colossal body doesn’t budge. “I want a proper kiss,” he murmurs.

There’s no moving him without his consent. Having watched him on the football field, I’d bet it’d take five large, powerful men just to budge him.

At 63 inches, and 115lbs soaking wet, negotiating is the only tactic. “I’ll give you an actual kiss if you come inside with me.”

He winks, then eases his large body out of the car. Thankfully, he’s steady, and I grab his hand, shutting the car door with a swing from my hip.

Once inside the house, I lead him into the darkened living room. Briefly, I let go of his hand to lock the door before escorting him to my bedroom. The sheer red scarf covering the lamp shades the walls a subtle pink.

William stands silently in front of me, his dark eyes hooded.

“Let me help you get undressed,” I whisper, conscious that his ears are sensitive to loud noise.

His head tilts to the side, but he doesn’t resist as I lift his shirt. He has to bend down to help me pull his head through the collar.

Shirtless, he stands before me looking like a battle-scarred warrior. There are angry red marks covering his neck and arms. Some have scabbed over with blood. The worst is on his left arm. The scoring marks are long welts starting from his forearm to his bicep.

My hands encircle his hips as I push his sweats down. When I ease the material passed his tight buttocks, my left hand encounters a large knot on his back. Glancing around, my mouth falls wide at the raised bruise. Even in the dimmed light I can see the dark discoloration.

“Jesus,William,” I breathe in shock. “Is it like this after every game?”

“Some are worse than others,” he grunts.

I shake my head and concentrate on removing his sweats. Will’s gigantic cock springs forth, semi-hard, and I blink, reminding myself we are not having sex.

“Decided to free-ball it, huh?” I ask, hoping to lighten the sexual tension with some humor.

“I never wear underwear after a game.”

“Good to know. Sit on the bed,” I order.

He’s too tall for me to take his pants off without kneeling, and there’s no telling what might happen if I do that.

William sits on my creaky bed, the frame groaning under his weight. I avert my eyes from his groin area as I pull off his pants.

He is completely naked, and I look past his shoulder before mumbling, “Okay. Sit here. I’ll be right back.”

Two large hands grasp my hips, freezing me in place. Before I can resist, he pulls me against his hot chest.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

He looks reluctant to let me go, but when I push against his hard pecs, his fingers loosen.

“Hurry,” he growls.

I’m quick, but when I return to the room, William’s head is dropped low.

Afraid he might fall, I rush to him, dropping my supplies on the nightstand.

“Lay down,” I urge, pushing him backwards until his head falls on the pillow.

I notice how he winces. “Do you have a headache?”

His eyes drift shut. “Yeah.”

Glad I brought the Tylenol, I open the bottle to extract two tabs. “Here, take these,” I say, handing him a glass of water and the tiny white pills.

William downs both quickly, then closes his eyes again. He sighs when I place a cool washcloth on his forehead, snuggling further into the pillow.

I cover him with a soft blanket, set the timer on my phone for one hour, then crawl gently in bed next to him.

“William? William, wake up.”

“Huh,” he mumbles, still half-asleep.

I shake again until he finally opens his eyes and stares at me. “Do you know where you are?” I ask.

His large palm covers the side of my face as he nods, “I’m with you,” he murmurs, then his eyes close as he lapses back into slumber.

I wake him up again an hour later, and an hour after that. I’ve had enough experiences with concussions to know the drill.

The third time I wake him, William asks for some water. I’m prepared since I grabbed some from the fridge earlier.

He sits up in bed, then downs the glass in two quick gulps. When he turns to stare at me, I ask, “Do you want some more?”

He shakes his head, still gazing at me. My eyes fall to the scratches on his neck and arms. They look worse than they did a couple of hours ago.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I snatch up the cotton balls and hydrogen peroxide. I’d brought them earlier with the rest of my supplies.

Since he’s not going back to sleep. This is the best time to tend to his wounds.

“I’m going to clean these and put some Vitamin E oil on them,” I say, careful to keep my voice low.

He murmurs indistinctly, but doesn’t move as I dab a wet cotton ball against the worst of the marks. I blow gently as I go, like my mother used to when she cleaned my skinned knees and elbows. Next I drop Vitamin E oil on the angry scars, rubbing them in with a clean Q-tip.

“Turn over. I want to get your back.”

William turns without protest, and I gasp as I finally see the full damage. It looks like someone took a waffle iron to his back.

“What happened?” I ask, my fingers gently caressing the bruised flesh.

“Someone stepped on me.”

He says it casually, like it happens all the time.

Shaking my head, I wet another cotton swab with peroxide, then I apply more thick layers of Vitamin E oil.

He has a large tattoo on his left shoulder blade with a crescent moon shaping the zodiac for Virgo. My fingers trail over the design. “When did you get this?”

“When I was sixteen. My brother dared me. This was the cheapest one.”

It didn’t look cheap. “You’ve must have added to it over the years.”

“Yeah. I colored the M after our first championship and added the stars after we won our second.”

“I’m surprised you only have one.”

He’s completely naked, so I know there are no more tats to be found.

“My roommate, Griff, is anti-tattoo.”

I snort a little too loudly. “Why? Is he a bible-thumping Christian?”

William chuckles into the pillow. “No, a friend of his in high school caught a severe infection after getting a tattoo and lost his arm.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. He tells anyone who wants to listen that story.”

“Ah,” I murmur. “So, no more tattoo dares?”

“Exactly.”

I smooth a few more drops of oil into his skin with a clean Q-tip. I want to keep the wounds as clean as possible, and I don’t have any medical-grade gloves.

Crawling over him again, I stand on the floor beside the bed. “Do you still have a headache?”

He grunts in response, which I take as an affirmative.

“Be right back. Don’t move,” I rush, before dashing to the kitchen.

When I return, he is still in the same place. “Turn over on your back,” I instruct.

Will turns without hesitation, staring at me with hooded eyes as he rests back on the pillow.

“It’s too soon for more Tylenol, but I have something else. This is going to be cold, but it’ll make your head feel a lot better.”

“Go for it,” he sighs.

I settle the gel pack behind his head at the nape. William hisses through his teeth, but then settles with a loud moan. “That feels good.”

“Are you hungry?”

He looks at me sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be right back. Relax.”

It’s the end of the week. I have a lot of leftovers, but I don’t want to put anything too heavy on his stomach. Thankfully, I have some homemade cream of chicken soup. It’s loaded with vegetables and strips of roasted chicken.

In the kitchen, I heat the Tupperware container I have stored in the fridge. There’s enough for two bowls. I scoop a healthy portion into a large soup cup. It’s another of my mother’s thrift store purchases, so it’s bright yellow and bares a large smiley emoji.

I take a moment to turn off the living room lamp and snatch up my scarf. William’s eyes are closed when I re-enter my bedroom; though he perks up nose first when I sit next to him.

“That smells good.”

“Cream of chicken soup,” I say with a smile.

Scooping up a spoonful, I settle next to him as I feed him.

“It’s good. Did you make it?”

“I can’t take credit for all of it. Tildee made the chicken. I made the soup.”

“It’s delicious,” he mumbles between bites.

He’s perfectly capable of feeding himself, but I kind of like taking care of him. If I wasn’t so keyed up, the situation would be comical. He’s naked as the day he was born and I’m feeding him like a baby. All that’s missing is the airplane sounds and the flying spoon. I try not to laugh as I scoop up the last bits.

Sighing heavily, William leans back against the pillow I’d propped under his head when I gave him the gel pack. His eyes close, and I figure the combination of the ice pack, the food, and the Tylenol are having the desired effect.

Setting the cup down on the nightstand, I grab a blanket I have thrown over the headboard. It’s girly pink and covered in red hearts. I tuck it around one side of his large, manly body, and laugh at the contrast. I’m tempted to snap a pic.

Rising to my feet, I grab the dish to take it back to the kitchen, but William grabs my hand, stopping me in my tracks.

“I think I love you,” he mumbles. “Stay with me.”

I gulp a breath of air as my eyes water. “I-I think I love you too.”

He smiles tiredly. “Good. Stay with me,” he says again, then he grabs my waist with his large hands and settles me next to him under the blanket.

I need to get undressed, but I wait, pondering the words we just said and what that might mean for our future.