Whiplash: A Sports Romance by Tabatha Kiss

butterflies have rarely ever been a part of my pre-stage routine but this time, I can’t seem to shake them. It might have something to do with Mr. Young’s endless supply of doubt and misery that he’s always so insistent on bludgeoning me with. Or I’m just hungry because I haven’t been able to eat anything all day because of how nervous I am.
    But most likely, it has something to do with Junior Morgan.
    I’ve been with men before but never in my life have I been pursued like this. Junior obviously desires me and I can’t say that’s something that happens often. I’ve been wanted, I’ve been liked, I maybe have even been loved, but none of that compares to what I feel when Junior’s hands are on me.
    Around him, I feel like a glass of water out in the desert or a blanket on a snowy mountain. I’m not just something he needs for convenience or luxury. No, if he doesn’t get me, he’ll die . That’s how badly he wants me and I can’t go a single minute without thinking about how much that excites me.
    Grant nudges my elbow from the seat beside me. “So, you gonna tell me about it?”
    “Tell you about what?” I whisper, keeping my voice down to avoid interrupting the other act on stage in front of us. Oh, and they’re also really freakin’ good. Not that I wasn’t nervous enough already…
    “About the two minutes and forty-three seconds you spent alone with Junior Morgan in the pool house last night,” he answers.
    I stare at him. “Okay, you have got to stop being so creepy .”
    “ Come on . What happened in there?”
    My lips curl on their own. “We talked.”
    “With your genitals?”
    I smack his arm. “No.” His eyes burrow into mine, reading me for every lie. “In a way…”
    Grant twitches with excitement. “I knew it.”
    “Let’s just say that the player and I have come to an understanding .”
    “Like…?”
    “Like if the team wins the game tomorrow, then… he and I can talk some more.”
    “With your genitals?”
    I hesitate. “Yes.”
    “Well, well, well…” he chuckles. “Sounds like your dad isn’t the only new coach around here. I’m impressed.”
    “I just don’t want to be another girl he bangs and forgets about,” I explain. “I have more self-respect than that and if wants to bang me, then he’ll show me that same respect and earn it on my terms.”
    “Oh, you don’t have to justify it to me,” he says. “I’m all for it. You just have to worry about what daddy thinks of it.”
    “What daddy doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
    “That’s always been my motto,” he jokes.
    “Which is why I trust you to keep this quiet .”
    Grant holds up his hands in surrender. “I swear on my life, Eliza. If this gets out, it won’t come from me.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Next!”
    Mr. Young calls us out and my heart stops.
    Grant grips my hand. “Let’s go kick some ass, Pierce. You with me?”
    I nod quickly, forcing every butterfly to wither and die in my stomach before standing up. “Let’s do this.”
     
    ***
     
    I step into Talon Hall and the butterflies return.
    Mr. Young said the cast list would be posted outside of his office at eight o’clock this morning. It’s seven-thirty now but I’ve been up since five.
    I’ve spent the last several hours replaying the audition in my head, picking it apart into little pieces, wondering if I said this word wrong or didn’t put enough emotion into that phrase. Every little piece of it has been dissected and studied at least a dozen times but I’m not anywhere closer to being as confident as Grant seems to be.
    He told me not to worry about it; we have it in the bag . Mr. Young didn’t say a word after our scene. He just nodded with that hard expression of his and waved us off. Grants insists that’s a good thing. I have my doubts.
    I round the corner towards Young’s office and halt in my tracks so fast, my shoes screech like tires.
    “Hey, Ellie.”
    I blink, convinced it’s just a mirage but