My Accidental NFL Boyfriend

            We had been friends ever since we were in diapers—literally. My mother and his mother had around the same expecting dates, and being friends throughout high school, thought it would be fun to match up their children and make them instant best friends. That friendship lasted until we were about 12; when Caleb began making new friends and I stayed in my silent shell. I was always on the shy side, especially during high school. This is when the torture began, and Caleb became my worst nightmare.

            Caleb thought it would be fun to be the biggest demon, grade A douche bag from freshmen to senior year. Yes, that included stringing my 34A bra on the flagpole, pantsing me in front of his whole football team, posting the ugliest pictures in flyers around the school, and if that didn’t seem bad, senior year, during my graduation speech, he sent my dress up flying and everyone got a sight on my retarded thong. Not only a sight, but pictures too. That isn’t even half of the abuse I suffered in high school. I never had a real friend. Yes, I communicated with the occasional human but never did it ever get to, “Hey want to hang out after school?”

            Never.

            Now, we both lived completely separate lives. He was a famous NFL football player for the Jets; I was a lone artist in a huge loft in New Jersey. I hadn’t seen him since senior year ended, and his farewell consisted of an army salute and tackling me to the floor, football style.

            As I stood in front of a huge bouncer with my bestfriends, Kelsey and Vivian, waiting to be let in a nightclub that the whole Jets team supposedly went to after a game, I felt a pang of terror. I would see my demon again. He probably wouldn’t even recognize me; it had been 5 years already. He would already be onto pretty, bleach-blondier girls. Thinking of all the things he used to torture me with sent my knees wobbling. However, Kelsey wanted my connections.

            “Even if we don’t see him, I’d love to get laid by a football player.” Those were her exact words. Classy, right?

            So I stood there wearing a skimpy black dress paired with huge stilettos, freezing my ass off. My face makeup seemed to be caked on so much it hardened, and I was afraid to touch my eyes. Kelsey and Vivian looked a lot prettier than I did. There wasn’t much to do with my boring brown hair and brown eyes, but with their beautiful blonde hair and green eyes (they were twins) they were killer. I hated to be compared next to them.

            How I became friends with them, I’ll never know. College was a mysterious thing.

            “Next,” the burly bouncer said.

            “Hello,” Vivian purred, “I was wonderin—”

            “No VIP, no pass,” he says stonily.

            “But we know one of the players—”

            “As does everyone else.”

            “Please, sir, I’m freezing,” I begged pathetically. He narrows his eyes, analyzing me.

            “All right, fine. Only because you’re all pretty,” he whispers the last part and shoves us in, but not before giving Vivian’s ass a pinch. Pervert.

            “YAY!” Kelsey cheers as we are greeted with blaring music, the loudness of voices, and the clinking of alcohol glasses. I hated clubs the most, all I earned was a huge headache and a hangover. I didn’t even feel like drinking, much less dancing.

            “Go ahead,” I say to Kelsey and Vivian, like I always do. I was the convenient friend, the designated driver. I sat at the only open seat at the bar, next to probably the grossest humans ever to be born. No wonder the seat was open. They looked like they were forever hung over; their clothes looked new but their hair was greasy and unkempt.

            “Hello pretty lady,” the man slurs. He was probably in his late 30s, poor guy.  

            “Do you want anything?” a sparkling waiter asks after I ignore the man and wait forever to get my order.

            “Just a coke, please. No alcohol.”

            “Aw, that’s no fun, Miss! Party a little, the Jets are supposed to be coming soon!”

            “No thank you, I didn’t even want to come.” He frowns at me, but pours the coke just the same. I chew on the straw, as the man next to me tries to ignite a conversation again.

            “Do you come here often?”

            “Go away.”

            “Are you 21?”

            “Leave me alone.”

            “Do you have a boyfriend? Are you married? I don’t see a ring.”

            “It won’t be you, if that’s what you’re asking.”

            I blush at my meanness for a second, before realizing how angry I actually was. I didn’t want to come; I wanted to be home, watching reruns of “Real Housewives of New York” and laugh because they couldn’t wash dishes.

            “You don’t have to be a b*tch,” he growls, grabbing my arm roughly. I pull out of his grip, and flee into the grinding bodies. I shake at his vile touch as I lean against the wall. Before I knew it, he had followed me and grabbed my arm again.

            “I TRIED TO BE NICE,” he yells over the music, “LITTLE B*TCH!”

            I freak out and flail, trying to get out of his grip. I yell out at him, but he just shakes his head.

“DANCE WITH ME, SLUT,” he roars. I struggle more, and his hand moves up to connect to my cheek, as if to educate me. However, before it does, I’m pulled into warm, strong arms.

            “Aren’t you a danger magnet, like always?” a familiar voice says.

            “Who is that,” a bunch of squeaky voices yell. My face is turned as lips press against my lips, pulling me into a deep kiss. The lips are warm and welcoming, unlike the creepy man trying to get in my pants. I try to struggle but the arms are too strong, it was no use.

            “My girlfriend,” the man announces, finally letting me breathe.

            I look up at that face.

            His face. That beautiful, demonic face. The face of my childhood nightmares.

            Not to mention, the whole Jets team behind him.

          OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH! HELLO SEXY CALEB, WILL YOU BE MY NFL BOYFRIEND?? I hope you enjoyed this, it was spur of the moment thinking & I just love writing these sappy stories. Mmm, think of Caleb's arms while you possibly vote, comment, & fan