Chapter Seventeen

It's you and me, that's my whole world

They whisper in the hallway "She's a bad bad girl"

The whole school is rolling fake dice

You play stupid games you win stupid prizes

~ Taylor Swift, Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

BPOV

When I was sixteen I read Romeo and Juliet.

And immediately hated it.

The average person could probably list off a critique or two of the story, especially when compared to the modern world. But putting all of those more logical critiques aside, the main reason I couldn't stand it was the ending.

Dead. The both of them.

What was the point? I didn't care about the families or politics or lessons they were supposed to learn along the way, I wanted love to win. I wanted it to be worth the fight. I wanted a happy ending with a sickeningly sweet happily ever after. I was a hopeless romantic. Sue me.

I wrote a scathing essay on the topic in my high school English class and nearly failed the semester because of it. Then I went home and wrote my own version of the story into a song, giving it an ending I could stomach.

I sent Mrs. Martin, my high school English teacher, a framed plaque of Love Story after it went platinum. She still had it hanging in her classroom to this day.

Thinking I had that kind of love… then having it brutally torn away and thrown in my face over and over again… it nearly broke me. I guess it did, in a lot of ways. For a long time. But I was finally feeling that hope again. The same kind I felt for Romeo and Juliet before Shakespere cruelly tore them apart.

I liked to think I knew myself pretty well and I wasn't a fling kind of girl. I was an all in kind of girl, and that usually drove men far, far away. Immediately.

But, Edward… he was different. He was open and honest and didn't cut corners. And he made me smile whenever he walked into a room, even if that room happened to be a stadium full of thousands and thousands of people. I felt so undeniably safe whenever he was around. Cared for. Protected. Cherished.

I happily squished myself tighter into his side. Our day had been blissfully lazy, spent dozing on and off in bed. One or the other usually waking up with roaming hands and soft lips pressed into the most delicious of places.

It was the perfect day.

One Romeo and Juliet would have envied us for.

Edward let out a heavy sigh, adjusting himself slightly in his sleep and pressing a wonderfully hard cock into my hip at the same time I heard a barely audible moan of my name in my ear.

Peeking a glance up at him, I saw his eyes still closed and relaxed. I glided my palms over his bare chest, up to his neck until I got to his beautifully disheveled hair.

His hips bucked against my hip and he let out another quiet moan.

I smiled into the warm cocoon of his neck, letting my lips kiss a trail across his jaw until I got to his ear.

"Edward," I mumbled, my teeth tugging gently on his earlobe.

He mumbled my name.

I grinned against his skin. "If you told me what was happening in that dream of yours I might just be able to make it real," I mused, hands drifting down his chest, squeezing between us until my fingers brushed against the base of his cock.

"That's a dangerous game to play, princess," he grunted, his voice rough from sleep.

I scraped my teeth against his neck. "Try me."

I was under him before I got the words out, his tongue in my mouth and his fingers intertwined with mine above my head. His body was nestled between my thighs and my heart raced in my chest as I took note of every glorious inch where our skin touched. His nose brushed against mine as we kissed; he locked both of my wrists in one firm grip above my head and let his other hand slide down my neck and over my shoulder until his fingers brushed disappointedly softly across my nipple; his cock was pressed against my abdomen; my thighs locked around his hips.

And then it was all gone. It was hard to pout about it, though, when with a few simple maneuvers he had me with my knees on either side of his head as he lounged lazily in bed beneath me, his cock waiting impatiently as I braced myself on his chest.

"Fuck," I squeaked out, disoriented and distracted when his tongue started drawing lazy circles around my clit.

My hands drifted down his chest, eyes taking in the glorious muscles that tensed as my fingers brushed across his skin. A curse vibrated against my center as I licked his cock from base to tip.

It was a sinfully delicious dance, Edward teasing me until I could get my revenge on him, and then the routine started over again. Until eventually the hands he kept firmly planted on my ass started to move. I groaned around his cock as he squeezed and kneaded and even placed a few perfectly timed gentle spanks to my cheeks before doing wonderful things with his tongue.

It was easy to get distracted, though. With his hands and tongue and with my tongue sliding over his balls. Easy enough to get distracted that I didn't notice his pinky making its way to a very different spot.

I tensed, coughing around his cock before pulling away to catch my breath.

His voice was husky and muffled as he asked, "Has anyone ever–"

"No," I squeaked out.

Edward was quiet for a few minutes, his tongue working all of the tension out of my body before his pinky returned. "Don't worry, princess. Not today. We'll work up to it."

I had a lot of questions. And concerns. But then his tongue curled inside of me and his chin rubbed against my clit and I came with a gasp. Then another as my orgasm stretched on and on as his pinky entered me just barely from behind.

My limbs were heavy and useless. My attention pathetically diluted enough for me to have no recollection about how I ended up beneath him again, his lips worshiping the skin behind my ear as I tried to form thoughts again.

"That," I gasped. "That's what you were dreaming about?"

"I told you it was a dangerous game," he mused, leaning over me with a cheshire cat grin as his eyes roamed every inch of my bare body.

Before I could think too much about it, he pushed himself inside of me and all logical thoughts disappeared.

My ankles locked behind his back. Both of his hands engulfed my breasts, eyes greedily roaming my body as he fucked me.

"You'll love it, princess," he groaned. "My cock in your ass."

His pace picked up, hips snapping against mine and even though I could confidently say anal sex had never been a fantasy of mine I came immediately when the idea floated through my mind of his cock compared to his finger from earlier.

—How You Get The Girl—

My arm was wrapped around Edward's bicep and I pressed my lips to his shoulder without second guessing it. Just because I wanted to.

He looked down at me with a crooked smile that had me nearly stumbling over my own two feet as we walked through the restaurant.

"I can't believe I get you for a whole week," I mused, mentally running through my schedule and wondering how mad my team would be if I tried to move some things around.

It was a bye week. Which meant Edward didn't have a game this weekend, and didn't have to be back to practice for a whole seven days.

He had a fake game typed into my phone against a fake team and casually told me he was coming with me as I packed up my things to head back to Los Angeles tomorrow morning.

"All yours, princess," he said, squeezing my arm closer to his side. "I was going to try to head down to Austin to catch Jasper's game with Alice on Saturday, but–"

"Can I come?" I blurted out immediately.

His brows rose. "You want to go watch a college game with me?"

"I know I give off super NFL elitist vibes, but–"

Edward shook his head. "I just meant I know football isn't exactly your thing. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

"It's my thing now," I told him honestly. "I might not know all the rules yet, but… you're not the only one who is all in here." I added quietly.

A softness clouded his eyes as he looked at me. "Austin for the day Saturday?"

I nodded. "Can't wait."

The restaurant was beautiful; candles on every table and low lighting throughout the dining room and an impressive crowd for a Monday evening.

We were led through the restaurant, and Edward high-fived no less than eight people along the way. People held up their hand and he immediately knew it was for him. He smiled when most would say something about winning the game yesterday and a rush of pride flooded my veins.

I knew he was good at what he did. I had scrolled through his social pages enough to see a dozen different championship trophies and accolades. But seeing it in front of me, even though I had absolutely nothing to do with who the man beside me had become, I was really fucking proud of him.

I squeezed his arm tighter, too late to say anything as we rounded the corner of the private dining room. A splattering of players and their wives or girlfriends were gathered around a large table. I hadn't met everyone yet, but Rosalie gave me a comforting smile from across the room as we walked in.

WAGs. I had done my research. Apparently it was an actual thing, women calling themselves WAGs if they were with a professional athlete. Women actively pursuing athletes for the sole purpose of becoming one.

When Edward told me a few of the guys and their wives and girlfriends invited us to dinner I had jokingly told him that my team would have a similar HABs dinner when we were in LA.

I said it as a joke. But Edward grinned and said he would happily start a Husbands and Boyfriends of pop stars club in the offseason.

He would do it, too. I knew he would. Walk around with a grin on his face and declare himself a HAB because, somehow, it didn't bother him. That people constantly turned my direction when we walked into a restaurant or that Sam was always right beside us when we went out.

I squeezed his hand before he pulled it away to pull out my chair.

Everyone at the table gave us genuine smiles, and started introductions.

There was Mike Newton, he was the one who asked Edward and I to join the team for drinks after the first game of the season. He had floppy blonde hair and a sweet, boy-next-door smile. He sat beside a woman with hair as black as onyx, who gave me a kind, quick smile as she was introduced as his wife Amelia. College sweethearts that got married a year after Mike was drafted in the NFL.

Then it was Ben Cheney, the guy with cropped brown hair and tattoos that I had to assume covered nearly every piece of available skin the man had, who sat beside –

"Whitney, right?" I asked with a smile.

She smiled across the table at me, her blonde hair in a casually messy ponytail and her makeup, of course, perfect. "I can't believe you remembered."

I winked. "I've never been able to get my eyeliner to look as good as it did when you did it."

She was a makeup artist, and had ended up doing my makeup for a few photoshoots years ago. She was, apparently, now happily engaged to Ben.

I already knew Emmett and Rosalie, obviously. Emmett reached across the table for a high five that nearly flung me across the room when he congratulated me on the album. Rosalie apologized for him immediately, but the softness in her eyes told me that unflappable energy and enthusiasm was one of the reasons she loved the man, not his money.

They were easy to spot, the ones here for the money.

Tyler Crowley sat beside a woman who was drowning in diamonds, always shifting her body and hands so that the maximum amount of jewels were able to be shown at once. And Eric Yorkie was with a woman who'd had far too much plastic surgery for being in what I had to assume was her early thirties.

They didn't look at their men with that same sparkle, didn't adjust their posture to be closer or let their eyes wander over to them just to make sure they were real. The boys didn't seem to mind, either. I'm sure a majority of professional athletes enjoyed that kind of life.

"You good?" Edward whispered into my ear, his arm resting casually around the back of my chair.

I smiled up at him, blushing when I met his eyes. "Yes, why?"

"I've never brought anyone to a WAG dinner before. I'm not sure if there's some kind of hazing ritual or–"

My head cocked to the side. "None of your other girlfriends were… WAGs?"

He shrugged. "I mean, maybe technically. But we both always knew they weren't long-term relationships."

Rolling my lips together, I tried to fight my smile. "But, I am."

"God, I hope so," he blurted out honestly. "But, if anyone gets to you or–"

"I've been extensively media trained since I was sixteen, Edward. I'm pretty damn good at putting on a polite smile even if someone insults me."

"No one here will insult you," he said firmly.

I shrugged. "People insult me on a secondly basis on the internet, at the dinner table, in songs, in movies–"

"Not in front of me."

"It comes with the job," I added softly. "It happens. I'm used to it."

He shook his head, I'm sure ready to argue, but then the conversation around the table picked up.

"So, bye week plans?" Mike asked, eyes scanning the table.

Edward grinned. "I'm becoming a HAB."

A/N: I know I know… I've been in a funk recently. But I'm making writing a priority for myself, because it keeps me (somewhat) sane and happy. I'm hoping to get back to regular updates (mostly with HYGTG and Illicit Affairs for the moment). Thanks for sticking with me, hope you enjoyed this one!