Breakaway: A Coach’s Daughter College Sports Romance (Beyond the Play)

THIS GUY—ALFRED, I only learned his name after about ten minutes of conversation—is pretentious as hell.

The moment he spotted me at the party, he walked over and started to flirt. A drink in, I haven’t done much but nod along as he drones on and on about himself. He might be attractive, with long blond hair pulled into a bun and wire-framed glasses perched on his strong nose, but he’s self-centered, and if I was looking for more than a hookup, I would have wriggled my way out of the conversation ages ago.

“What do you think?” he asks. I’m so taken aback by the fact he’s asking me a question that I don’t answer right away. “We could go together; it’s playing at the theater in town.”

I blink. When the conversation veered into date territory, I have no idea, but there’s nothing I’d like less. I muster a smile and say, “Sorry, what?”

“It’s too damn loud in here,” he says, leaning down so he can talk into my ear. “I said, do you want to go to see the newest A24? It’s a psycho-erotic thriller about—”

I grab his arm and yank him even closer. At least he smells nice. I can appreciate a man who knows that Axe isn’t a suitable body spray past sophomore year of high school as long as he’s using any cologne but Tropic Blue.

“Want to go upstairs?” I interrupt.

He raises an eyebrow with a lazy sort of interest. “What do you have in mind?”

I lean up and press a kiss to his lips. “Less talking, more… other things.”

It’s not the smoothest way I could put it, but right now, I don’t need smooth; I have the advantages of a sexy outfit and the inhibitions of the party. He flicks his gaze down to my cleavage. There’s not much to see, but my push-up bra helps, and my plum-colored sweater dress clings to my hips nicely. Paired with sheer tights and my thigh-high leather boots, I know I look like a snack. He strokes the hair back from my neck, and I shiver. It’s not him that’s turning me on so much as the thought of finally crossing another item off The List. Taking back another piece of power. The experience with Cooper was intoxicating. I have no idea if it was him, or the fact we were in a closet where technically anyone could walk in, or just that I finally did something with a real guy after years and diminishing returns on orgasms, but I feel more confident. More like the girl I always wanted to be, and maybe who I was on the way to becoming back before Preston shattered everything.

I grip Alfred’s hand in mine and lead him through the crowd, nodding to Mia as we pass. She’s making out with some girl I don’t recognize, but she winks at me. I fight my blush as we head upstairs. It’s probably hoping against hope that there’s total privacy to be found, but if we take this out of the party, I know I won’t want to go through with it. It’s either happening here, or not at all.

I open the first door, hoping to find a dark corner, but Alfred takes us to the end of the hall. “Might have a better chance here.” He squeezes my hand as he opens the door. “You’re feistier than I thought you’d be, Penelope.”

I fake a laugh even though I want to poke him in the ribs, hard, for calling me by my full name when I very clearly introduced myself as Penny. He pushes me back against the door, his hands on my waist.

Before he can kiss me, I notice who else is in the room.

Cooper Callahan. With not one, but two girls.

It shouldn’t surprise me. He told me himself that he only hooks up with girls once—to him, we’re Kleenex. He makes it worth your while, but the price of admission is the acknowledgement that it won’t be anything more than a fleeting moment. Seeing him with two brand-new puck bunnies shouldn’t hurt. It’s not allowed to hurt. Here I am with a guy of my own, after all, and an agenda just like him.

But it does hurt, and that realization is enough to push Alfred away.

“Callahan,” I say. I have no idea where I’m going with this. What do I even want? All I know is that if he kisses either of those girls in front of me, it’ll hurt worse than wiping out while attempting a triple axel.

He looks at me, his expression unreadable. I know they won the game thanks to his goal, and maybe the smart thing to do would just be to congratulate him and find a different room to go to, but before I can make myself say anything else, the dark-haired girl throws up all over him.

He staggers back, cursing up a storm. I snort with genuine laughter at the sight of him covered in vomit. The girl is fluttering around him, apologizing in a high, distressed voice. Alfred heaves, clapping his hand over his mouth.

“I’ve got to go,” he says, his voice cracking. He books it out of the room without so much as a glance over his shoulder.

I sigh. It’s not like I wanted to suck his dick all that much, anyway.

“Izzy,” Cooper says, his voice somewhat more level now. “Stop crying, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, you’re going to hate me!” she says. “I ruined your shirt!”

“Not everyone cares all that much about clothes,” he says, but he grimaces, looking down at the shirt. It’s a vintage-style band tee advertising Nirvana, and the stain is, unfortunately, electric blue. He looks over at me and adds, “Does your date have an overactive gag reflex or something, Red?”

I ignore the nickname and stalk over to the closet. Maybe there’s something in here we can use to clean him up. “He wasn’t my date.”

“Looked like you were about to get something going.”

I pull out a towel and toss it to him. “Not your business.”

“He looked like a prick.” He makes a face as he mops at his shirt. “Izzy, what were you even drinking? This is blue.”

“Tequila something,” she says with a hiccup. Her friend, who had disappeared into the bathroom, comes back with a wet washcloth. She helps Izzy wipe at her face without ruining her makeup, although they need to sacrifice the lipstick.

“No, he was…” I sigh, unable to fake any interest. “Fine, yes, he was a bit of an ass. But whatever, I just wanted to blow him.”

He blinks. “We’re going to unpack that later.”

“We?”

“Yeah, come on, I need you. Help me get my sister out of here.”

I ignore the little tendril of relief that pokes its head up at his words. His sister, not his latest hookup. “Sure, okay.”

“Unless you want to go track down that weasel.”

“You’re terrible,” I say, even as I take Izzy’s arm. “You don’t even know him.”

“And you do?”

I flush. He cocks his head to the side, like he’s witnessing an interesting reaction in chemistry lab.

“I have questions, Red,” he declares. “And as soon as I don’t smell like tequila and my sister’s stomach acid, you’re answering.”

“Is this your idea of flirting?” Izzy mumbles to her brother as we head out of the room, her friend on our heels. “You’re terrible at it.”

“We’re not flirting,” I say with a scowl. “Cooper doesn’t know how to flirt.”

“Neither do you,” he shoots back.

That hurts more than it should, so I keep my mouth shut and focus on not falling down the stairs in my heels. When we’re back on the main floor, we wind through the crowd to the entrance. Cooper’s scowl is even more pronounced, the black energy coming off him in waves as he cuts through the mob of drunk college kids with ease. At the door, he allows Izzy to lean on him, stroking a hand through her hair in a tender gesture that makes my breath stick in my throat. “Give me your phone, Iz.”

She plunges her hand down her front and pulls it out of her bra. Cooper stares at it like it’s a scorpion, which makes me double over with laughter; he snatches it out of his sister’s hand and glares at me. “Not another word, Red.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

He turns his back as he presses the phone against his ear. Izzy giggles, poking me in the stomach. “He likes you.”

Cooper puts up his middle finger without looking back at us. I’m not sure if he’s telling off Izzy or denying that he likes me. I push down the warmth that wants to spread through me; a drip of happiness that could easily settle low in my belly. Izzy’s just doing what drunk people do: talk.

Izzy hugs her friend, who promises to check in later. She disappears into the knot of people on the dance floor as a guy I vaguely recognize as Sebastian Callahan walks over. Even though he’s not related to Cooper by blood, which I remember Mia telling me ages ago, there’s something similar about them; they both have a determined set to their mouths and commanding energy.

“Oh, good,” he says. “You found her.”

“Only cost me my favorite t-shirt,” Cooper says. “Let’s go, I’m getting a fucking headache.”

“Doesn’t care about clothes, my ass,” Izzy mutters to me as we head out into the night. I bite my lip to keep from laughing again.

Sebastian throws me a look when he realizes I’m tagging along, and I stop on the porch, unsure if I should continue or if I should go back to the party and find Mia, but then Cooper says, irritably, “Penny, come on,” so I loop my arm through Izzy’s again and let her lean on me as we troop across the half-frozen lawn.

In the car, a nice new Jeep which must be Seb’s, because there’s no question that he’s driving, Cooper gives me the front seat and sits in the back with his sister, who is petting his hair again. I text Mia to let her know I’m leaving. Sebastian turns on the radio to cut through the semi-awkward silence, and when “King of my Heart” by Taylor Swift comes on, Izzy hollers along. I sing along too, catching the look in Cooper’s eyes through the windshield. He’s still scowling, but really, he’s fighting a smile.

After a couple minutes, we pull up to a house in town that’s close to my father’s. It’s cheerful looking, with pumpkins on the porch steps and a fall wreath on the door. Seb helps Cooper get Izzy to the door. I follow along, somewhat hesitantly. I thought we’d be heading to the dorms. I’d rather not walk all the way to my dorm from here, especially past midnight, or try to catch the bus.

“She doesn’t live in the dorms?”

“Nope,” Cooper says. “We all live here.”

I step into the entryway. “That’s cute.”

“It would have been better with James,” Izzy says with a pout. “I miss him.”

I look around the house. The entryway has a staircase to the left, and to the right, it opens to a living room. There’s a big leather couch, a matching loveseat, and an armchair with a plaid blanket folded neatly over the back, grouped around a wall-mounted television. It’s easy to tell what belongs to Cooper and his brother, and what touches their sister has added; the bottle-opener in the shape of a skull must be theirs, but the tapered pink candles on the coffee table, hers. “He lives in Philadelphia, right?”

“With his fiancée,” Izzy says with a sigh as she flops down on the couch. “We haven’t seen them since the summer. He abandoned us to go play football.”

Sebastian ruffles her hair as he walks past, heading into the kitchen. “You can call him whenever.”

Izzy brightens at that. “Coop, where’s my phone?”

Cooper shakes his head. “Not now, he’ll have my ass for letting you go wild at a senior party.”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “You didn’t let me do anything. Besides, I won’t tell him.”

“Iz, I love you, but secrets aren’t your strong suit.” He sighs, looking down at his shirt again. “Come on, let’s get changed. You should have some water and go to bed, so you’re good to go for your game tomorrow. I’ll drive you home in a minute, Penny.”

When they troop upstairs, Sebastian gives me a narrow-eyed look, clearly unwilling to let go of the fact that Cooper brought a girl he’s already been with—because I don’t believe for a second he wouldn’t tell his brother about the indignity of accidentally sleeping with his coach’s daughter—to their house, and apparently is going to drive me home himself instead of offering to pay for an Uber like a normal guy. I shuffle my feet, unsure what to do with myself. There’s a slamming sound from upstairs, and then a high-pitched giggle.

“Sebastian!” Cooper roars.

Sebastian’s gaze flickers to the stairs before settling on me once more. “You should have told him who you were beforehand.”

I swallow. He doesn’t even sound all that upset, but the words chastise me all the same. “I didn’t know.”

“When the consequences only go one way, you make sure.” He nods once, like he’s pleased with himself for that cryptic, metaphorical slap, and then bounds up the stairs two at a time.

Of course, he doesn’t know that the consequences wouldn’t just go one way; if my father finds out, it could ruin the relationship I’ve fought carefully to repair. What better way to remind my father of the version of me who forced us out of Arizona than recklessly getting involved with another hockey player? His hockey player? I’ll lose the little respect of his that I’ve built back up, and it wasn’t until I did something as monumentally stupid as asking Cooper Callahan to go down on me that I realized how much I treasure it. If I tried to explain The List to him, on top of being mortifying, he wouldn’t understand. It wouldn’t be growth to him; it’d be regression.

Yet despite knowing that, I know something else, too: I’m about to ask Cooper to do it again.