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Win Big:A Bad Boy Sports Romance

By:Bella Love-Wins

Win Big:A Bad Boy Sports Romance
Bella Love-Wins



I nodded over to my teammate, Tre. "Yippe ki-yay, motherfucker."

He gripped the pull-up bar with both hands. "I love the smell of napalm in the morning."

We were working out at the gym, exchanging badass movie lines as I pushed him hard through his sets. "Say hello to my little friend."

One of the guys over at the free weights shouted, "It's little, all right!"

I gave the whole crew the finger and growled back, "I want you to hold it between your knees."

They returned to whatever they were doing. Tre clenched his teeth as he pushed hard for the last eight reps. "In this world, there are two kinds of people-those with loaded guns and those who dig. You dig!"

"AK-47. It's the very best there is. When you absolutely, positively gotta kill every motherfucker in the room, accept no substitutes."

He grinned when he finished the last pull up. "I'm not locked in here, dude. You're locked in here … with me."

"Dying ain't much of a living, boy." I slapped him on the back as we walked over to start bench presses.

"Take your damn paws off me, you damn dirty ape."

"You can't handle the truth!"

"I pity the fool."

"Wake up. It's time to die."

"Go ahead …  Make my day."

"Jesus fuck, man!" Slade called out from the treadmill as he ran. "Quit it with those bullshit movie lines and shut the fuck up. I'm trying to make my time over here."

"Come on, son!" I barked, ignoring Slade. I was trying to pump up Tre.

These guys weren't going to be my teammates for much longer, now that the college football season was over. The bowl game post season series was behind us and we had received our formal invitations to the national combine starting in mid-February, and the NFL Pro Day sometime in March. There was one more semester of college coursework to go before the draft, and after that, my graduation from college. And I didn't have a heavy course load for the academics. As this was my last semester, and because everyone on the football team had to take one or two courses each summer semester, I only had two courses left to graduate.

This semester was all about preparation for my ascension to the NFL.

"You're highly strung, buddy. You gotta relax. I'm serious," Tre muttered from his spot on the weight bench where he started doing bicep curls. He was in his sophomore year, so he had a year before all this shit got real.


"And when do you plan to stop calling me ‘son'?"

"Yeah. That ain't ever gonna happen. You're not even old enough to drink."

"I can drink all I want at the frat house, and out on the town when I hang with you guys."

"Only because some bartenders enjoy seeing you and Pat do dumb shit because you can't hold your damn liquor."

Everyone in the team's gym looked over and gave me a nod. They had all seen Tre and his best friend, Pat, in action. Pat wasn't on the football team, but he might as well have been the mascot or something. His real name wasn't Pat either. It was Franko Salvatore. He was some rich Italian kid who insisted on everyone calling him Pappa Thumbs because his father had an extra thumb on one hand.

Big fucking deal.

If the extra thumb thing was true at all.

I got back to my bench presses. The mood in the gym was low. There was no picking up the slackers after they took winter break off. I had the feeling I was the only person here who actually kept up with their fitness training at all. While they were home over the Christmas holidays after our bowl game, I stayed on campus and worked my tail off. My parents were not the least bit impressed, but they did their best to understand.

NFL or bust.

That was my motto.

Everything else was on someone else's priority list.

I had no other options.

So when everyone came back from their holidays bitching and moaning that they had to get back in shape, I was ready for action. I wasn't the only one whose college career was over after the Spring semester, either. Slade, Chris, Mo, Chad and I were looking at the draft, which was coming up in just over four months.

"You ready for Indianapolis?" Slade, the quarterback and team captain asked out of the blue when he came over to spot me for my bench press sets.

"I was born ready. I just don't know how I'll compare." I had to admit what was staring me in the face. With over three hundred college football draftee prospects out of thousands across the country, nothing was a guarantee, so we were on top of the world to have all been invited to the NFL's National Scouting Combine starting in mid-February.                       


He scoffed. "You'll ace it because you're one of the best wide receivers in the SEC. And I'm right up there. Of course we were invited."

I grinned, pushing through my set with him standing over me. "I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."

Chad Worthington, who played the center and tackle positions depending on who was on the field, looked over at us from the treadmill, where he was barely jogging. He was already in a pissed off mood for whatever reason. "It's not bad enough we have to show off for the scouts all year long," Chad grumbled. "We have to compete against everybody else, just for the scouts and advisors to pick us all over again."

"Who's this ‘we' you keep talking about?" I called out to him. Chad's family was loaded. He'd end up a multi-millionaire at minimum even if he did nothing all through college. "You're going corporate when you graduate, Mr. Moneybags."

"Only if I don't get drafted, dumbass. You think I'd work my tail off at college football just for kicks?"

"You'll make it," Slade said, cutting us off. "But whatever you do, make sure you got your prenup all signed and shit. Any woman who you get with is in for some serious greenbacks, no matter how much she tells you she's with you for your hero hair."

"Yeah whatever, bud. Ever since you got with that Cassidy cheerleader chick, you've been acting like someone died and made you the love guru."

"Watch your mouth about my woman, bro," Slade sounded out. "I'm getting my workout here in the gym. I don't want to have to kick your ass too."

"Good, because I don't need no romance advice. Evan might, with all the freaky deaky shit he's into. Right, Evan?"

"Don't knock it till you try it."

"Oh I ain't ever going there. You and all that equipment you're into …  whips, chains, electrical shit, vibrators and ball gags. What the fuck, man? And that harness shit set up in your room. What the hell do you do with that, bang the livestock round town?"

"He's been real baaaaaaaad," Slade sang out, bleating like a sheep.

"Very fucking funny," I answered as he and everyone around were laughing their asses off. That shit didn't bother me. My sexual preferences were just that … preferences. Some people liked it, and some didn't. Personally, I loved getting my freak on. "I'll be flying my kinky flag all day long, fellas. The freakier the better. Anyhow, stop changing the subject and get your fat asses working harder. Every single one of you is soft in the belly from all that holiday stuffing."

I was all about trying to pick up the pace at the gym, which was why I pushed those slackers between my sets. It didn't go well. By the end of our workout, they were shooting me dirty looks.

"Pussies," I muttered, walking to the shower. Then, louder, "Come on, bitches. Work hard, play harder! Don't forget that party at the frat house is in a few hours." That picked up everybody's moods, and by the time we went back to the frat house, the guys were energetic and excited again.

"Take it easy on them," Slade said, pulling me aside when we got back. "They don't all have the combine like we probably will. They took off over the holidays. So what? It's the offseason."

"What the hell is wrong with you, man? Maybe we need to change your nickname from Slaughter to Cuddles or something. You can't be the Slade I used to know, the one who pushed us all way past our limits. We used to bitch together all the time over the way we felt like we carried the team. Now you're good with letting them slack off like that? These kids need that Slade, not this teddy bear I seem to be talking to right now."

"Chill the fuck out, man. We all need a break after we worked our asses off for those bowl game wins. You included. Give them a week or two to settle in, then by all means kick their asses and whip them into shape." He grinned for a second. "Just don't go enjoying that last part too much."

I tried to brush it off, but it irked me for a while. Well, only right up until the girls started showing up for the party. Cassidy was there with Slade, Jo and Chris, the cornerback, made a late appearance for a few minutes, and those two couples pretty much went off in their own worlds. Some of other guys with girls they were pretty serious about hung around out here and there.

"Hey, you." I was too busy being annoyed by the way my friends all got whipped that I almost missed this cute brunette who had sat down next to me with a red plastic cup in her hand. "You look lonely."