Chapter 9
just a dance
Jax
It’s Thursday night football and this game has been brutal. We’re down seven in the fourth with five minutes to go. Meyers, my QB has snapped the ball my direction four times this half, and each time I’ve fumbled. I’m not playing my best today, and it shows.
We get into line, Meyers calls our the play and I know that he’s still got faith in me to complete the pass and get it into the end zone. I ready my stance as my opponent glares at me.
“You ready to go down, Carr? So far, you ain’t cutting it tonight. Slippery fingers Jax, I’ll make sure everyone knows what to call you later.”
“Fuck you, Michaels.” I seethe through my mouthguard.
The ball snaps, I dig my shoulder down and barrel into his shoulder at the right spot, to knock him down, plant my foot, turn, just in time to reach for the ball.
I tuck it under my arm, and take off. My defensive line runs with me, blasting anyone who comes at me, until my feet glide over that line and I drop the ball a moment later.
Meyers rushes to me, and we jump up into a chest bump before coming back down.
I see Michaels out of the corner of my eye, rubbing his shoulder as I walk off the field to the sideline, yank my helmet off, and grab my water, squirting some in my mouth.
We just need to not let anyone pass, and get one more. I look at the clock. We have time.
“Fuck. Michaels is pitching a fit.” Jake, one of our coordinators says, stepping beside me.
“He’s a little bitch, let him whine.”
“He’s holding onto his shoulder pretty tight and crying wolf about you, what did you do?” Jake asks.
“I didn’t do anything out of the normal, I got away from him, pushed him out of the way, then scored. I did my job.” I growl.
Jake holds his hands up. “Dude. I’m just relaying the information that I’m getting. Chill out.”
I walk to the benches and take a seat, squirting some more water into my mouth, swishing it around, then spitting it back out.
A moment later, I’m pushing up, putting my helmet back on, with Meyers beside me.
“Ready to get one more?” he asks.
“Ready as ever, my friend.” I respond with a nod, holding up my fist.
With whistles blown, we’re on the field and into position. We have to get further down the field, but I’m pretty sure we can secure this win.
Michaels is in front of me again.
“What’s up fuckface? You got lucky that time.”
I ignore him, despite how badly, I want to smash my fist through his facemask.
We move down the field without any issues, until I know it’s my time to secure us another touchdown. I get into position with Michaels taunting me again. I’ve got to get around him, that’s my goal. I need to go around him.
But as soon as the ball snaps and I hear Meyers call, I turn.
Hands at the ready, and the ball flies into my hands.
I tuck myself, roll to the right, with Michaels right in front of me.
Taking advantage of the matter, I buckle down and my helmet slams hard into the same shoulder that I hit before, and I squeeze past him.
Laughing loudly, as I imagine the announcers making an inappropriate comment at how I squeezed through, and darted toward the post as fast as I can.
As soon as I’m in the end zone, I slide as if I’m a soccer player and slide tackling the ball from an opponent. My teammates pile atop me and we celebrate.
Two minutes left in the game. We’ve got this, but a lot can still happen in that time. We just need to not let it.
We left the field with ten points over our opponents.
Once we secured the field goal, it was set.
We have our slots to speak with the press, and I’m up first per usual.
I wipe off the sweat from my face and neck and step up to the podium with an assortment of microphones in front of the numerous news outlets present tonight for our home game.
My name is called in every direction. I look over the crowd in the room.
I don’t see the reporter that I’ve been having issues with, Jason, and for that I’m thankful.
I don’t think I can handle his snark today.
I’m exhausted, but I know that I need to get this done quickly.
Stick to the facts. Answer questions only pertaining to the game. Get the hell out of here.
And I do just that. I don’t run into any issues, and by the time I’m exiting the press room, I am feeling good.
Not only because of the lack of confrontations, but because tonight I have to get fitted for a tux for tomorrows charity.
It will be the second event that I will be attending with Morgan, and hopefully that adds more fuel to the rumors of my no longer being single.
I’ve monitored a few of the social media posts that Morgan and I have been putting out, and the response has been insane.
The sheer amount of people who are invested in other peoples lives baffles me.
There are people who have reposted the posts that we’ve shared, adding their own commentary and their own angles of our so-called romance as if they knew either of us.
I’ve also seen my follower count sky-rocket recently, and I can only assume that Morgan’s has too.
This is a different aspect of celebrity, that I never cared about, and honestly, I didn’t know existed.
As I’m walking into the locker room, I grab my stuff for the shower, then head in that direction.
A few of the guys are still lingering in there.
One of the guys is in the corner with his back turned, singing quietly to himself, but loud enough to fill the space around him.
Another player is staring off into space while he’s rinsing off.
He notices as I toss my towel over the rack and step under a steady stream.
“Carr. What a fucking game, right?” he gruffs out.
“You have no idea. I’m ready to fucking hit the sack,” I declare.
“So, you care to tell me about your new lady?” he asks, cutting to the chase.
“Morgan? Ah, she’s been my friend for ever.”
“And now, she’s something more?” he questions.
“You can say that.” My thoughts move quickly, “I think it was just always there, but out of the blue things progressed into something, more.” Yeah, that’s good. That’s believable.
“That’s good to hear, man. Does that mean she’s going to be hanging out with all the wives and shit?”
“When she can manage, I’m sure that’s something that she will do. We’re taking things slow, I’m not sure she’s ready for the claws of the wives, not just yet.”
The ballroom to one of the cities swankiest hotels shimmered like a scene from a movie.
Twinkling chandeliers dangled overhead, dripping light onto a crowd decked out in tuxes and gowns enjoying the jazz band that played on the stage in the center of the room.
The air buzzed with conversation, clinking classes and laughter.
I pulled at the collar of my shirt, the stiff fabric itching against my neck.
I’m not one to dress up, I prefer my jeans and a shirt over a monkey suit, but I won’t complain when I have Morgan by my side.
When I picked her up and saw her in her gown, the room may have vanished.
All I saw was her. She is absolutely beautiful, a total knockout.
I wasn’t prepared to see her like this. Sure, we’ve seen one another dressed up, but not when she was supposed to be adorning my arm.
Her dress hugs her body in all the right ways, as if it was painted on.
My breath was caught in my lungs as she moved through the space as if she owned the place, all grace and confidence with her smile lighting up the room. I can’t stop staring.
She’s not yours, idiot. She’s just your friend. My brain shouted at me, but my eyes didn’t care.
Tonight, she is supposed to be mine, even if it just for show.
She catched me staring and smirks. “You clean up nice, Jaxxy-poo,” she testes, her tone warm. “Almost didn’t recognize you without your permanent frown.”
I grunt, tugging at my bowtie. “Don’t get used to it. This thing is fucking strangling me.”
She laughs, bright and carefree, cutting into the tightness in my chest. “You’ll survive. Just flash that charming smile for the cameras. We’ve got a role to play, remember?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Right.” We’re here as a fake couple, we’re hard launching this relationship tonight, and hoping that people can see the sensitive side of me, the one that is in a relationship.
Hopefully the gossip mill focuses on the woman at my side and not my bad attitude, or the fact that I feel incredibly uncomfortable.
She steps closer to me, her perfume is a mix of jasmine and vanilla.
She leans into me, “put your arms around me. Don’t be afraid to touch me.
And when the mood strikes, kiss my temple, or something.
We’re in a new relationship, we’re still in the touchy-feely stage.
We need to see it tonight. Hand-holding, kissing. You good with that?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. A kiss?
“Yeah, okay. Let’s walk the line.” I slip my hand into hers as the crowd parted for us.
People were smiling and nodding at the two of us as if we were royalty.
She squeezed my hand, shooting me a quick grin, and my stomach flipped.
Get it together,But every brush of her arm, every whiff of her scent, sent my thoughts spiraling.
We stop at the bar, and as I stood here while she ordered drinks, my mind was elsewhere.
She is stunning — obviously— but it wasn’t just the dress or the hair.
It was her. It was Morgan, who I’ve known since forever.
Morgan, who stuck by my through the mistakes and the triumphs in my life.
And now, here she is, playing my girlfriend, helping me out, and I can’t tell if I should be grateful or feel like a complete idiot for not being able to get my own girlfriend, a real one.
“Jax?” her voice yanked me back to the present, “you’re zoning out on me.”
“Sorry, just soaking all this in. I’m never really myself at these kinds of things. Plus, I usually come with a few of the guys. This is the first time, that I’m here with a date.”
“Well, Everyone is watching us. They’re eating it up.”
“Eating what up?” I ask.
“Us,” she said, her voice softening. “The happy couple. Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”
How am I supposed to answer that? No, Morgs, I’m not okay, because every time you mile at me, I forget this is fake? Or I hope it isn’t. I shrug. “Just out of my depth. You know, I’d rather be sitting on the couch in sweats or on the field. I’m good, though.”
She smiles as the music shifts to a slow, sultry beat.
Couples drift to the dance floor and Morgan’s face lights up.
“Dance time.” She declares, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the dance floor.
We start to move with her body against mine, the fabric of her dress soft under my hands.
I try to focus on the music, but all I can think about is how right she feels in my arm, pressed against me — her closeness, her breath on my neck, the way it feels as if we’ve done this many times.
“Relax,” she murmurs, her head resting against my shoulder. “You’re stiff as a board.”
I can feel her heartbeat, steady and calm, while mine was a runaway train. For a split second, I imagined tilting her hin up, kissing her — not for the cameras, but for me.
She lifts my head, as if reading my mind.
“Kiss me.” She says, her eyes finding mine.
“What?”
“This is the perfect time. Kiss me.” She demands.
I suck in a deep breath, look her in the eyes, and lower my head until I capture her lips with mine.
The lines are blurring.
She tastes like the champagne she had a little while ago as she melts into my arms as we slow our dancing even more. She pulls back with her eyes glossy and a smile to her face.
“Jax Carr. You are a good kisser.”
We’re standing at a table full of desserts as Morgan plucked a chocolate-covered strawberry and holds it out to me. “Bite,” she said, eyes glinting with playfulness.
I hesitate, then lean in, my lips grazing her fingers as I take it. The sweet burst of fruit mixed with the heat of her touch, and my pulse spikes. I chew, watching her, and she laughs, licking chocolate off her thumb.
“Messy,” she teases. “Good thing I don’t mind.”
“If you haven’t known this all these years, you’re stuck with me,” I say, aiming for casual.
We traded jabs, the mood lightening, but underneath, I was a wreck. Every laugh, every glance, made me want more. More than this pretend game. Another kiss, a longer kiss.
Something about this kiss feels different. It feels like neither of us are pretending. This kiss is endless. It’s deep and somehow much more meaningful than expected. I pull reluctantly pull back from her with my mouth tingling. The sweet taste of her still on my tongue.
Morgan and I are staring at one another, speechless. I don’t know if she felt the electric charge, but I sure as hell do.
What do I do about this? Do I say something?
“Isn’t that the girl you were dating?” Morgan asks breaking the spell, hitching her head toward the crowd.
I swing my glance, and inwardly groan as I spot trouble.
She zeroes in on me, and starts to strut over to the table we’re standing at.
Our relationship, if you could call it that, was a complete trainwreck.
It was more sex than anything. We fizzled out, and the very next week, she was hooking up with another football player for Los Angeles.
“Vanessa, yeah.”
“Jax,” Vanessa purrs, her eyes sliding to Morgan. “And who’s this?”
“Morgan,” Morgan answers, all charm, extending a hand. “Jax’s girlfriend. Nice to meet you. And you are?”
Vanessa’s smile was ice-cold as she shakes Morgan’s hand. “Charming. I hope you guys are enjoying yourselves. I didn’t think Jax brought dates to these things.”
“Why wouldn’t I bring my girlfriend?” I ask.
“I mean, you just never — you know what, nevermind.” Vanessa says.
“Anyways, nice to see you again, excuse us.” I place my arm around Morgan, and we begin to walk away.
“Jax, wait. It’s been ages. I almost miss you.”
“That’s funny.” I say as we walk away.
“You good?” she asks.
I nod. “Let’s go get some air,” I said, steering us to the balcony.
The night is cool, the city sprawling below us in a haze of lights. Morgan leans against the railing, her silhouette glowing in the moonlight, and I couldnt look away. She was everything: beautiful, fierce, real, and I was doing something that I know that I shouldn’t.
I was falling for my best friend.