Falling into a Second Chance by Alie Garnett
Chapter Three
Fuck,he hated hangovers. Why did he have to drink so much that his head was throbbing? Rolling over, he wondered if he could even remember the press conference but realized he couldn’t. With a groan, he opened his eyes to the bright room, then shut them again.
Christopher Lowell was twenty-five and should have easily known how to hold his liquor, but smiling and trying to act happy about ending up with the wrong team had made him reach for drink after drink. Yes, he should be happy just to be on a team still, but it wasn’t the team he had loved playing for. They had decided they didn’t love him.
Opening his eyes again, he saw the back of her head. Short black hair standing on end, the strands all pointing in different directions. But the sides were very short. He couldn’t remember a thing about her. That should make him ashamed of what happened, but it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Women were easy when you played a sport like football at the level he did.
She was probably naked based on the creamy white shoulder that was peeking out from under the covers. He had a type, and short, black-haired chicks were not it. Weird hair usually did nothing for him either.
Chris had been dating tall blonds as long as he could remember. Never once had he strayed away from that mold, and he didn’t see himself starting now. But it seemed that while drunk, he had wanted a taste of something else. Something completely different.
Leaning up on an elbow, Chris leaned over, realizing he wanted to see what that something else looked like. Now he could see that she had a mohawk and more metal in her ears than he thought possible. Her nose oddly didn’t have anything pierced, but it was cute and buttony. Her pink lips were curved up in a light smile as she slept.
She stretched, and the cover slid down. Her breast came into view, nice sized with dark nipples that begged to be touched. So, he did, with a light caress.
The woman bolted upright and looked around the room. What she saw was enough to send her out from under the covers and running around the room naked, looking for her clothes. For such a little package, she was glorious to look at in the nude. Even though she was skin and bones, he enjoyed watching her search the room for whatever she had worn yesterday. He would be no help because he couldn’t remember how they got to the room, much less where she had lost her clothes. Or his, for that matter.
After two circles around the room, her brown eyes glared at him as she demanded, “Where the fuck are my clothes?”
“I don’t know. Bathroom?” He pointed to it, as if she hadn’t actually already looked there, but he was rewarded by another view of her bare ass. It was a very nice ass.
She stomped into the room and came out again, empty-handed and still naked. “Oh, fuck. Is it 9:45?”
Not looking away from her breasts, Chris said, “Yup.”
She rubbed her face with her hands and then over her pointy hair, swearing a lot. She stomped out of the bedroom of the suite and into the living room. She didn’t come back, and he missed her nakedness in his life.
After a few minutes, he heard the door open and close. Was she gone? Not that he cared; she was just a drunk fuck. She was nobody that meant anything to him … they never were.
Getting up, he walked into the living room of the suite in case she hadn’t left. He could use a hangover fuck if she was still around, but the room was empty. Walking back into the bedroom, he saw a piece of paper on the dresser and picked it up. All it said was his name on it: Chris. But it wasn’t his writing, it was fancy, girly writing. The dark-haired chick must have written it, though he couldn’t remember her doing it or even why she would have.
Sitting on the bed, he looked at the paper. Chris. Short, black-haired Chris. Flopping onto his back, he suddenly remembered her from the party. Chris Lovely, artsy Chris who he couldn’t ever remember not knowing.
Every day he was at school, she was there. In class, by their lockers, or even hanging out with her friends across the schoolyard. Then senior year and everything that happened, from getting to know her to letting her go. She had been there, a constant he had relied on until she was gone.
Yelling curse words to the ceiling in anger, he had just fucked up with Chris Lovely again. Drunk Chris had known it was her, but sober Chris had just let her walk away. Again. This time he hadn’t even been trying to impress his friends that led her to leaving; it had been his own stupidity.
And now, just like back then, he had no way to find her. He didn’t know where she lived then or now. He had fucked up again. Should he have his agent find her? He could, easily. So much easier than what a high school kid could do. Except he was leaving town and wouldn’t be back much anyway.
Closing his eyes, he wondered if he had been smart enough to have at least apologized to her for being a dick in high school. He hoped so.
It was better to just leave it as it was. A drunk fuck, because he was doing exactly what he had always dreamed: be a football star. She was nothing to him anyway, just some chick from his past.
