Page 35 of Necessary Roughness
Knox
“It was so awkward ,” Sloane whined.
We were cuddling in bed that night, tucked under the covers in the darkness before falling asleep.
Sloane was too embarrassed to have sex in this house after what had happened, and apologized profusely to me until I told her it was all good.
But she was still mortified about getting caught by Roman.
“Yeah, that sucks,” I agreed.
“You’re supposed to be reassuring me!” she hissed.
“Think of it this way,” I tried. “These walls are thin. He’s certainly already heard us have sex before. So you have nothing to feel weird about.”
“That doesn’t reassure me at all! Now I’m going to be self-conscious about when we do it in a bedroom! Besides, this afternoon was different. He saw me naked.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, squeezing her tighter. “There’s nothing I can say except that Roman is a cool guy. He doesn’t hold grudges, and he bluntly tells you what he’s thinking. I chatted with him when I got home, and I can already tell this isn’t a big deal.”
“Easy for you to say. Roman didn’t catch you getting railed by Logan.”
“If Roman caught me getting railed by Logan, things would be way more awkward around here.”
That finally made Sloane chuckle. “Shut up.”
“ You shut up.”
We had reached that cute period where we loved being around each other, and could tease each other without anyone’s feelings getting hurt. It was my favorite part of a relationship, when everything was still new and perfect.
Relationship . Was that what this was? Were we building the foundation of something stronger, something more permanent?
With Sloane in my arms as we fell asleep, I couldn’t bring myself to worry about it. Whatever this was, it was good, and that’s all that mattered to me.
The semester rolled on like that, with things that were routine and things that weren’t.
I focused on my classes and went to practice.
We sat in the video room attached to Coach’s office and reviewed footage of our opponents until my eyelids were heavy.
I slept, I woke, I ate, I ran, I studied, and then I slept again.
And mixed in there, like the chocolate swirls in an otherwise healthy muffin, Sloane and I fucked like rabbits.
In the morning before practice.
In the morning after practice.
Before study hall in the evening, and when we turned out the lights at night.
Sometimes, Sloane was too sore to have sex, and instead dropped to her knees and drained me with only her mouth and fingers.
Another time, after a marathon session on a lazy Sunday when we had nothing else on our schedule, I had to stop in the middle of the act because there was a sore spot on the tip of my penis from all the friction. A good problem to have.
Sloane living with us was like having a videogame system always connected to the TV, ready to play whenever we wanted.
It was a crude metaphor. Sloane was so much more than a freaking PlayStation or Xbox.
She was so much more than just a fuck-toy for us to use, even though she was fond of using that comparison.
I could feel a deep fondness for her in my chest, an awareness in my mind that always occupied some percentage of my attention.
That feeling was steadily advancing, like an offensive drive in the fourth quarter.
But aside from being aware of that fact, I was too busy with everything else in my life to worry about it.
As Halloween came and went, giving way to chilly November mornings, Sloane rarely slept in her own bed.
She always stayed with Logan, or quietly slipped into my room and slid under the covers without saying a word.
I looked forward to those nights more than anything.
With ex-girlfriends, I never slept well when sharing a bed.
They were always too warm, or kept me awake by snoring or shifting too much.
In the past, I preferred having my own space.
Sloane was different. I got the best sleep of my life when I was with her, confirmed by my Garmin watch that tracked my sleep score.
This girl was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
By the second week in November, our team was somehow still undefeated.
Nobody said it out loud, as if the concept was so fragile that simply muttering the phrase “perfect season” would scare it away.
But after we cruised past St. Augustine Bay College, and then trounced Sabal Palm University, everyone was aware of what was at stake.
How we had a chance to do something no prior Westview College Wildcats football team had ever done.
And with that success, I knew my odds of being selected in the first round of the NFL Draft kept increasing.
Sloane was a comforting presence, even on away games. Westview College gave away hundreds of tickets and offered free bus rides to students who wanted to travel to road games, and it imbued me with an almost supernatural strength knowing she was in the crowd, watching me play.
Our team’s success—and my personal performances on the field—drew a lot of media attention.
Sports Illustrated did a piece on players from lesser-known schools who were expected to be drafted, which involved me being photographed and interviewed for three hours on one Sunday.
When the issue was released, Roman and Logan tore my photo out of the magazine and taped it to the fridge, then pretended to bow down to me whenever our paths crossed in the house.
“I think you look handsome,” was all Sloane said. “You look like a professional.”
Her words meant more to me than all the praise in the magazine piece.
At the end of November, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, ESPN came to our campus.
ESPN College GameDay was a live pregame show that traveled around the country to highlight exciting football matchups.
They usually only chose larger schools like Florida State or Miami, but our team success—and my rising stock in the NFL draft—made them choose us.
And they were interviewing me on the show.
It made me more nervous than any regular game, or any final exam. I knew this publicity was only a taste of what I might receive in the NFL, but it gave me goosebumps all the same.
A semicircular desk was erected in the square in front of our football stadium, with hundreds of drunk, screaming Westview College students packed into the background where they would be visible on camera.
I was seated at the center of the desk, with Rece Davis and Kirk Herbstreit to my left, and Lee Corso and Nick Saban to my right.
I was especially starstruck being within smacking distance of Saban, the legendary Alabama football coach.
“Knox Maddox,” Herbstreit was saying, “your team has a chance to not only win the conference for the first time in two decades, but to go undefeated on the season. That’s the kind of accomplishment we’ve come to expect from schools like Michigan, Alabama, and Ohio State—not a smaller college like Westview. ”
Hundreds of student voices behind us shrieked in excitement the moment our school was named.
“Have you begun thinking about making history?” Nick Saban asked me.
Swallowing the excitement at having such a legendary college football figure addressing me , I gave a measured shrug.
“We try not to fall into the trap of thinking ahead.” I made sure to say we and us, rather then me and I .
My coach said that would make me seem more humble, more likable.
“Sure, we want to win the conference. Sure, we want to do the other thing you mentioned—which I don’t even want to acknowledge out loud! ”
Everyone laughed.
“But all of that only happens if we win today’s game,” I said. “And next week’s game. And the game after that. So I’m focused on what I can control, which is scoring touchdowns against Panhandle State University.”
The crowd behind me booed the name of our opponent.
“This kid already has the poise of a pro quarterback!” Lee Corso said, grasping my shoulder. “Now, I don’t want to get this crowd more riled up than it already is. But is there some lucky lady in your life? Someone who keeps you grounded?”
The crowd went nuts at this, and there was a brief commotion as a girl sitting on the shoulders of someone else flashed her tits at the camera and screamed, “I LOVE YOU KNOX!”
“Umm…” I said when the attention was back on me. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”
Rece Davis pointed at me and said, “That’s not a no!”
When everyone stopped laughing, I graciously said, “I have all the support I need in my life. And that’s all I’ll say about that.”
I smiled at the camera, and imagined Sloane was smiling back at me.