Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(48)

“You two look like you’re sixty seconds or less from fucking in the nearest closet,” Zeke said.

“Yeah, right. She’d sooner be a nun,” I combatted.

Clay leaned toward Zeke. “Notice how he didn’t say he’d sooner do anything else.”

“You’re blind if you don’t see that she wants you, too,” Zeke added. “The tension is tight enough to snap, man.”

“That’s just because she despises me,” I said with a heavy gut.

I couldn’t help the way my eyes drifted to Mary through the kitchen window then, and one look at her buzzed, sleepy, overjoyed smile made me ache with the desire to pull her upstairs and hold her down until we settled whatever the storm between us was.

Before the guys could razz me further, someone shouted from the living room.

“Holden’s going in!”

“Oh, shit!” we said in unison, and then we were scrambling out of the kitchen and fighting to be the first back in front of the TV. When we got to the living room, we stood frozen, slow smiles spreading on our face.

There he was, Holden Moore, jogging out for his first play as an NFL quarterback.

“I’ll be fucking damned,” Clay said in soft admiration.

I had to clear my throat to swallow down the emotion that overwhelmed me in that moment. I was so fucking proud of my friend, I felt like I could burst.

Of course, I’d never admit that, and to everyone around me, I looked calm.

“Bro’s been skipping leg day,” I said loudly, which earned me the chorus of laughter from my teammates that I wanted.

Mary’s head dropped back against the bean bag, her lazy eyes zeroing in on me. I could see then how drunk she was, and she hiccupped before offering me a goofy grin and a look that told me she saw right through me.

It was as confusing as it was hope-inducing.

“Look, there’s Julep!” Giana cried out, pointing at the TV where they’d panned to Julep in the stands. Mary dragged her head back up, the moment gone, and we all watched to see Julep wearing Holden’s jersey, her hair pulled into a ponytail, the brightest smile I’d ever seen on her face, and that impressive rock glistening on her finger.

For the rest of the quarter, we were all transfixed by the screen, watching as Holden moved the Panthers down the field. I could tell he was still adjusting to the league, which we all knew would be night and day different from playing here at NBU. But he looked like he belonged there, like he wouldn’t be on that bench for long.

In his second drive, he took them all the way down for a touchdown, and we all went fucking insane.



The energy really was like a Super Bowl by the time halftime rolled around, and everyone jumped up, running off to either use the bathroom, grab snacks, or refill their drinks. I had to take a leak so bad I was bouncing, and I cursed when I saw the guest bath downstairs had a line. I skipped upstairs to Kyle’s room, but he was using his and told me to fuck off, which told me it would be a while.

Hesitantly, I knocked on my own bedroom door.

It was quiet inside, and after a bit without response, I slowly cracked the door open to find the room dark and vacant. I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me and making a beeline for the bathroom.

I groaned with relief when I finally started pissing, and then I looked around, a smile curling on my lips as I took in the disaster my bathroom had become. There was makeup on the counter and in the sink, hair products still plugged in with the cords strewn everywhere, about a million hair and face products that I couldn’t begin to guess the purpose of, body spray, jewelry, and more.

A little Mary Bomb had gone off, and I couldn’t even pretend like I didn’t enjoy sitting in the rubble.

I washed my hands and pulled out a fresh hand towel to dry them, and then slipped back into my room, ready to head downstairs.

I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of Mary with her shirt half-yanked over her head.

The fabric trapped her arms and head as she struggled against it, little grunts of frustration popping out of her. When she finally got it off, she threw it to the ground like it had greatly offended her, letting out a horse-neigh of an exhale.

In just a thin bra and her lacey, layered skirts, she looked up to find me staring at her.

She didn’t scream, didn’t jump in surprise, didn’t throw things at me in an effort to banish me from the room. It was almost like she expected me, like she hoped to see me there. I held her gaze in an effort to not devour her body, to not treat myself to the sight of the metal piercing her nipples or the freckles on her abdomen or the ink across her chest and shoulders and arms.

With a lazy tilt of her lips, she shrugged. “Don’t tell anyone I pulled an Irish goodbye.”

The words were a slur of consonants and vowels I could barely make out, and a laugh bubbled out of me, softening the tension. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Mary pouted then, her impossibly plump lip poking out as she reached behind her for what I presumed was for the zipper of her skirt.

“Can you help me? I gotta get outta this,” she said, and then she spun around with the skirts flaring and backed up until she hit me.

I caught her and my balance before we both tumbled back onto the bed, my hands finding her now-bare waist.

I swallowed, running my knuckles down the smooth skin of her back on a groan I hoped she didn’t hear.