Page 57 of Necessary Roughness

Sloane

We held an NFL draft watch party in our house on a warm Saturday afternoon.

Knox explained that he was invited to attend the draft in Wisconsin in person, but didn’t want to make the trip because he was afraid of jinxing it.

Apparently there were plenty of cases of high profile players attending the draft, wearing nice tuxedos and sitting patiently while their name was passed over again and again, and Knox didn’t want to be one of them.

The Westview football coach was there with us, along with the athletic director and Knox’s parents. There was also a cameraman from ESPN, but we all tried to ignore him while he sat in the corner and scrolled on his phone.

I wore a nice summer dress with a thong that I hoped the boys would love later on tonight.

All of them were dressed up for the occasion; a slate gray suit for Knox, and dress pants with white button-down shirts for Roman and Logan.

It was the first time I’d seen them all dressed up, and it made me wish we didn’t have all these guests occupying the house because I wanted to immediately undress them and show them just how sexy they were.

But we did have guests, and there was too much going on today.

The moment she arrived, Darlene took me by the arm and spent the hour before the draft talking my ear off about all the gossip she’d heard from the other football parents.

I didn’t care about such gossip, but I was thrilled that Darlene loved me so much.

Apparently she’d always wanted a daughter, and now saw me as her best chance to get one.

And beyond that, she was really sweet. I wondered if Logan and Roman had moms who would like me this much, whenever we eventually met.

The twins were here, too. Jayden brought NFL-themed cupcakes, one for every team. “It took me four hours to decorate them all,” he explained to us. “I smudged the Buffalo Bills cupcake, and didn’t have time to fix it, so you’d better not be drafted by them.”

“I’ll call the Bills and let them know,” Knox said with a nervous laugh. He’d been a wreck all week, culminating in today’s event. He’d vacuumed the house three different times, and spent the rest of his day pacing around the front porch as if that could make the draft arrive quicker.

Logan, meanwhile, was calmer than I had ever seen him. I suspected he had accepted that he wasn’t going to be drafted at all. I desperately hoped he was wrong.

“Thanks for inviting us,” Bryson said, clinking his beer bottle against Logan’s.

Logan snorted. “Your twin threatened to write a tell-all book about our four-person polyamorous relationship if we didn’t invite both of you.”

Bryson turned to glare at his brother.

“I was mostly joking about that!” Jayden said. “Unless you kick us out now. Then I’ll tell the world what I know.”

“He is joking.” I put an arm around Jayden. “We have enough stress today. Can you be cool, please?”

“Impossible,” Bryson smirked.

Jayden flipped him off, then picked up a glass of white wine. “I’m the coolest one here. Watch this.” He walked a few feet away and tapped Darlene on the shoulder. “You’re the famous Mrs. Maddox, aren’t you? I just love your broach!”

Her face lit up. “Oh thank you! I inherited it from my mother.” She cocked her head. “You know, one of Knox’s cousins is a homosexual.”

“Oh!” Jayden glanced at us excitedly, then turned back to Darlene. “Is he an athlete like Knox? Is he broad-shouldered and barrel-chested? You know what, I don’t even care! Can I have his number?”

“Of course not, he’s married to a nice young man,” Darlene replied. “A dentist . They have two little girls. Let me show you.”

While she pulled out her phone, Jayden gave us the pleading stare of a prisoner.

“The draft is starting!” the athletic director announced.

We all hurried over to the TV, where Roman was cranking up the sound. The NFL Commissioner stepped up to the podium as the crowd buzzed and cameras flashed. In his hand was a crisp white card. He paused for dramatic effect, smiling at everyone gathered there, then at the camera.

“With the first pick in the draft, the Cleveland Browns select… Marcus Whitmer, quarterback from The Ohio State University!”

Cheers erupted from the fans, and the camera panned over to a table in the front row. Marcus stood up and hugged his family, then jogged up onto the stage and accepted a Cleveland Browns hat.

“Whelp, time to pack it up everyone!” Logan announced. “Neither of us were the number one pick, so everyone might as well go home!”

There were a few laughs. Roman punched him in the arm, which made Logan wince and cradle his arm. “Dude. That hurt.”

“It was supposed to hurt.”

“I thought you would’ve learned by now not to punch people at parties,” Logan muttered.

Roman barked a laugh, then wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulder and gave him a quick little hug.

There was a commercial break, and then the second pick was announced. Then the third. There weren’t any surprises; everyone knew who was going to be selected with the first five or six picks.

I brought Knox a beer and rubbed his back. He smiled, but his eyes were still glued to the TV.

“Having to wait ten minutes between pick announcements,” Roman suddenly said beside me.

“Huh?” I asked.

“A mildly annoying thing,” Roman explained. “Knox told me you guys sometimes discuss things that are mildly annoying. I want to play, too. Waiting ten whole minutes between each draft pick is mildly annoying.”

“That’s a good one,” I said. I leaned closer to him. “Having a camera guy standing in the corner, waiting to record what should be a private moment.”

“Mmm, very annoying,” Roman agreed. He nodded in the direction of the loveseat. “Knox’s father sitting in my chair, fiddling with all the settings.”

“I can see how that would be annoying. Faking a smile every time Knox isn’t selected.”

“You’re faking smiles?” Roman asked. “I’m not even bothering. I’m frowning until he’s picked.”

“That’s easy, since you usually have a permanent scowl,” I teased.

He grunted. “I don’t like this game anymore.”

I reached over and gave his ass a squeeze. “You look great in those pants.”

Roman gave me a sideways glance. “If I tell you how you look in that dress, I’m going to pop a tent in my dress pants in front of all these people.”

“With the camera guy here,” I teased, “that might make the SportsCenter Top Ten!”

He rumbled with laughter, and glanced around before reaching over to cop a feel of my ass. I playfully slapped his hand away, giving him my best fuck-me eyes. And based on the noise he made in his throat, it worked.

Later tonight , I told myself. If we’re not all too exhausted .

“The twelfth pick is what I’m predicting,” the football coach announced with a little too much enthusiasm. “The Patriots need a quarterback, and you’d fit well with their system.”

After the eleventh pick, the camera guy stood up and started recording us. He told us to act natural, but it was tough while you were being recorded. My smile felt fake, my enthusiasm forced.

“With the twelfth pick in the draft,” the commissioner announced, “the New England Patriots select… Andre Cummins, running back from the University of Florida!”

The air went out of the room. Nobody said anything for several seconds. The camera guy lowered his camera and returned to scrolling on his phone.

“Not a bad thing,” Knox’s father said. “New England’s rebuilding. I’d rather see you go to a team that’s ready to win now.”

“Same,” Knox said, but his heart wasn’t in it.

The picks continued being announced, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Each time, the guy from ESPN raised his camera just in case this was Knox Maddox’s moment. After a while, I stopped faking my smiles. Roman whispered something to Knox, and Logan crossed his arms and frowned at the TV.

As we reached the twentieth pick, the tension in the room grew thick.

Today was the first round of the draft, comprised of thirty-two picks.

The second round was tomorrow, with the remaining rounds the day after that.

If we had to wait until tomorrow to see Knox drafted, not to mention regrouping here for a second day… it would kill Knox.

Which, in turn, would kill me.

I glanced at the list of remaining teams that had to pick today. Most of them were on the West Coast. I felt a stab of fear that the Seahawks or Chargers would take Knox away from me and send him all the way across the country.

I shook my head. I wasn’t going to think about that.

Knox’s phone rang.

Every conversation in the room abruptly ceased, and we all turned toward the quarterback. He held his phone in his hand, staring at it like it was a snake he only just noticed. He glanced at his parents, then at me.

Knox’s hand trembled as he raised the phone to his ear. “This is Knox Maddox.”

Everyone leaned closer, although we couldn’t hear who had called or what they were saying. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. Roman put a hand on my back and let out a long sigh.

“Yes,” Knox said, eyes widening. “That does sound good to me, sir. Absolutely. You didn’t need to do that, but I’ll take it! Yes, sir. I’m your man. You won’t regret this.”

His eyes shimmered as he hung up the call. “They picked me.”

“ Who?” Logan demanded, but Knox was pointing at the television. The commissioner was stepping up to the podium again. I could barely hear his words because my heart was pounding in my ears.

“With the twenty-fourth pick in the draft,” the commissioner announced, “the Tampa Bay Buccaneers select… Knox Maddox, quarterback from Westview College.”

It was like a bomb had gone off in the room; we screamed and shouted, jumped up and down, high-fived and pumped our fists. Knox hugged his parents tightly, sharing a moment with them. Then he turned to me, tears pouring down his face.

I smiled as I embraced him, and then my own tears were flowing. Through the shimmer I saw our embrace on the television, broadcast from the camera guy with a three-second delay.

“You did it,” I whispered.

“ We did it,” he said.

I wanted to argue, to tell him I was only a small part of his success—if at all! But I couldn’t form the words, couldn’t do anything but hug him tightly.

Tampa Bay , I thought. He’s staying close. He’s staying in Florida .