Read Online FOOTBALL ROMANCE: Tight (Bad Boy Alpha Male College Football Player and First Time Virgin) (Contemporary New Adult Athlete Sports Romance) by Bridget Lang - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Bridget Lang
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to.”
“I don’t.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “What would I need to do?”
“Marry me.”
Chapter 2 JETT
“I’m not the marrying type,” I tell my agent.
“Yeah, I know,” Larry says, “That’s the problem.”
I almost feel bad for Larry. He is kind of a nag, but he isn’t totally wrong. Even I know my less than tarnish-free image isn’t working really well for me anymore. Larry usually has to take the heat for letting me “get away” with my antics. He’s only thirty-eight, but in the six years I’ve been playing football, he’s already gone almost entirely gray.
“Being your agent is like being the president,” he once told me after picking me up from a club at five in the morning. “It ages you twenty years.” It’s starting to look like he’s right.
“I don’t see the point,” I argue anyway. “So what if I get married? It’s not like it’s gonna change anything about me.”
“You’re not the thing that needs to change,” he explains. “Your image is. Lately, everything you touch turns to shit. It doesn’t matter how great you are at throwing a ball if everyone thinks you’re a total dick.”
“But I am a total dick,” I joke.
Larry is entirely straight-faced. “I know,” he says. “Trust me, if the public knows that, you’re going to lose your job. The team doesn’t want someone everybody hates on the payroll. It’s bad for ticket sales. Plus, you’re losing endorsements left and right, and I don’t think I have to tell you how bad that is for your bank account.”
I shrug as though I don’t care, but I know he’s right. At first, my behavior just added to my image. I was the “bad boy” of football, something that a lot of men found exhilarating; they liked to live vicariously through me. And the women, day-um , I couldn’t keep the women away. Over time, though, fans seemed to enjoy it less and less. My sponsorships are starting to fall away like poor Larry’s hair, and my coach is starting to lose patience with me. I can hear his words in my head. “Your girlfriends aren’t doing anyone any good, and it looks like you’re not helping them much either.”
They aren’t my girlfriends, but it is true that neither of us are benefitting a whole lot from our exchanges. The chicks are hot, and they are great lays - don’t get me wrong about that - but they are also complete disasters. There’s Delilah Rose, the porn star best known for flashing the cameras when exiting high-end night clubs. Then there’s a lunatic-turned-model, Amber Ferndale, who overdosed on pain pills three times in as many months and showed up at my house naked, crying and asking why we weren’t married yet. The list goes on and gets worse as it does.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask. “Find some mousy little kindergarten teacher and propose to her on the spot? No one will buy that.”
“Well we can’t go that far, obviously. But we need to find someone. Someone pretty and wholesome, who looks good on your arm but can still keep her panties on for more than an hour. We’ll say that you’ve been keeping your relationship quiet because you didn’t want to deal with the press.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I say.
“Well, I am,” Larry bristles. “Listen, Jett, I love you like a brother, but if you don’t start listening to me, we’re going to have to… go down a different path.”
I stare at him for a second. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’d seriously drop me?”
“You’re not
“I don’t.” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “What would I need to do?”
“Marry me.”
Chapter 2 JETT
“I’m not the marrying type,” I tell my agent.
“Yeah, I know,” Larry says, “That’s the problem.”
I almost feel bad for Larry. He is kind of a nag, but he isn’t totally wrong. Even I know my less than tarnish-free image isn’t working really well for me anymore. Larry usually has to take the heat for letting me “get away” with my antics. He’s only thirty-eight, but in the six years I’ve been playing football, he’s already gone almost entirely gray.
“Being your agent is like being the president,” he once told me after picking me up from a club at five in the morning. “It ages you twenty years.” It’s starting to look like he’s right.
“I don’t see the point,” I argue anyway. “So what if I get married? It’s not like it’s gonna change anything about me.”
“You’re not the thing that needs to change,” he explains. “Your image is. Lately, everything you touch turns to shit. It doesn’t matter how great you are at throwing a ball if everyone thinks you’re a total dick.”
“But I am a total dick,” I joke.
Larry is entirely straight-faced. “I know,” he says. “Trust me, if the public knows that, you’re going to lose your job. The team doesn’t want someone everybody hates on the payroll. It’s bad for ticket sales. Plus, you’re losing endorsements left and right, and I don’t think I have to tell you how bad that is for your bank account.”
I shrug as though I don’t care, but I know he’s right. At first, my behavior just added to my image. I was the “bad boy” of football, something that a lot of men found exhilarating; they liked to live vicariously through me. And the women, day-um , I couldn’t keep the women away. Over time, though, fans seemed to enjoy it less and less. My sponsorships are starting to fall away like poor Larry’s hair, and my coach is starting to lose patience with me. I can hear his words in my head. “Your girlfriends aren’t doing anyone any good, and it looks like you’re not helping them much either.”
They aren’t my girlfriends, but it is true that neither of us are benefitting a whole lot from our exchanges. The chicks are hot, and they are great lays - don’t get me wrong about that - but they are also complete disasters. There’s Delilah Rose, the porn star best known for flashing the cameras when exiting high-end night clubs. Then there’s a lunatic-turned-model, Amber Ferndale, who overdosed on pain pills three times in as many months and showed up at my house naked, crying and asking why we weren’t married yet. The list goes on and gets worse as it does.
“So what do you want me to do?” I ask. “Find some mousy little kindergarten teacher and propose to her on the spot? No one will buy that.”
“Well we can’t go that far, obviously. But we need to find someone. Someone pretty and wholesome, who looks good on your arm but can still keep her panties on for more than an hour. We’ll say that you’ve been keeping your relationship quiet because you didn’t want to deal with the press.”
“I’m not sure about this,” I say.
“Well, I am,” Larry bristles. “Listen, Jett, I love you like a brother, but if you don’t start listening to me, we’re going to have to… go down a different path.”
I stare at him for a second. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’d seriously drop me?”
“You’re not
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