She Runs

She Runs

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Romance

Summary

He has always loved her. He loved her when he had nothing and now he loves her when he has everything. But has it been enough? As their relationship hinges on the its final seconds, she is forced to face reality. Will she stay or will she run?

Summary

He has always loved her. He loved her when he had nothing and now he loves her when he has everything. But has it been enough? As their relationship hinges on the its final seconds, she is forced to face reality. Will she stay or will she run?

Chapter1 (v.1) - She Runs

Author Chapter Note

He loved her when he had nothing. Now he loves her when he has everything. But is love, passion and sex enough to keep her? As time hinges on the final seconds of their relationship, she is forced to face reality. Will she stay or will she run?

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 19, 2015

Reads: 1164

Comments: 19

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 19, 2015

A A A

A A A

Prologue

You’ve practiced this before. Just inch forward and release your fingers from its trembling grip. Let gravity pull you downward as air and wind give way to your heavy body. How you land wouldn’t make a difference. Once you’re dead, nothing else will matter.  This kind of death only encompasses one second. You won’t linger in pain, suffer, or fear.

 So jump.

 And be sure to look back as your fucked up existence swallows into blackness.

 He trembles off the 42-story balcony ledge. The sound of the orgy beckoned him toward the living room. He cowards into the bedroom, pulls out his suitcase and begins to frantically search for the one thing that will save him tonight.

Clothes began to pile a mess on the floor. He searches deeper and deeper; his desperation is palpable.

 There.

He grabs onto the white scarf and trembles onto the floor. He presses the scarf against his face and screams in anguish as he rocks back and forth in a darkening room. 

 

Chapter 1

She was the only person who wanted him when he had nothing and he had nothing for a very long time.

He grew up begging for food and slept in dark alleys. His parents died when he was young and he was picked up by Grant, a complete stranger, a homeless man who was willing to break bread and offer a cardboard box over his head.

 Child services caught wind of him and so he lived with distant relatives for a while. But by that time, he was a problem child. He was rowdy, wild, angry, and violent.  He spent most of his young adult life in juvenile detention centers. If you’re trying to identify him, he’s the juvenile delinquent with a black eye and scar.

He perpetually ran away from home and was eventually housed with numerous foster families. He lived with the Smithsons until he was given a full athletic scholarship to the University of Michigan.

Fucking gold digging trash. The Smithsons never gave a shit about him but they crawled to his feet when he became NFL’s first round draft pick as the starting quarterback to the Denver Bronchos.  Good things come from a rare arm that perfects 80-yard game-winning drives.

But this isn’t college football. This is the National Football League and he was playing with the big boys. The pressure was intense. The existence was rough. And his past never instilled the ability for him to lead well. So he didn’t play well.

In fact, he was horrendous.

By the end of year two, he was out of the NFL but not out of danger.

Money.

He had lots of it and he had it all to himself. It corrupted and consumed him alive. He smoked the marijuana, the cocaine and he paid for the sex and the prostitutes. He simply vanished from the face of the earth. No one heard from him.  He now lived underneath the gates of hell, sweating with underage sex and heroine addiction.

He had fallen from grace and wanted out of this life. He wanted to die.

But he got a call one day. Someone still believed in him. So after a year away from the game, he returned and sat on the bench as the third quarterback to the backup and starter.

By that time, he had gone cold turkey on his dark life. He was ready to prove something to the world. He was ready to prove he was ready for her.

And he got his chance.

He walked onto that field. The stadium was excruciatingly loud and thousands of spectators were hopeless. Why would they hope for more? He was the unproven, untested quarterback and he is playing against one of the best NFL teams during the Conference Championship Game. If he wins, he’d lead his team into the Super Bowl.

And he did.

In fact, he won the Super Bowl 48 to 21 and became the American Comeback Kid. The world fell in love with this life story. His trials and tribulations became a testament to the American spirit, hope, and resiliency.

But there were still many non-believers who claim his success was a luck of the draw; that his talent was a fluke.  He silenced the doubters the following year with the best win-loss record and advanced into the playoffs.

He no longer wanted to be great. He wanted to be Legend.

And he became just that when he led his team to win the Super Bowl for two consecutive years.

You can hate on Ethan McCollin, but you damn as hell better respect his talent, drive, passion, and killer instinct. He is one hell of a quarterback. And he has crawled from the depths of the underworld to live among the stars.

 

***

 

Ethan walked up to room 365-b. The classroom door was ajar and he hears her encouraging students to use Supply and Demand chart. He leans closely to the wall beside the door so she wouldn’t see him.

He keeps his head down so no one would notice him. The cap helped. But if you paid just enough attention, you’d know he’s not a student. He is in fact, a seasoned hard-core athlete. He’s 6’4”, muscles bulk, jawline pronounced, and abs galore. He isn’t a boy; he’s a fucking man – walks like one, talks like one, fucks like one.

He glances into the room. Damn. It’s no wonder she’s been rated top tier hotness on ratemyprofessors.

She’s wearing a knee length pencil skirt with a chiffon collar shirt; a thin belt cinches the narrow of her waist. Her hourglass body beckons the imagination. She’s wearing mid-high pumps and her hair is swept up in a bun with curls of loose bangs hanging here and there. Damn, she is still sexy.

What are you doing to these boys, Evelyn? He chuckles to himself. Damn, if he took her class, he wouldn’t be learning anything.

Quite the contrary, she is rated as an excellent student professor at the University of Michigan. She is thorough, methodical, approachable, and passionate about all things Economic. She is the type of professor students remain friends with long after graduation.

Damn, he loves this woman.

She turns to the write on the white board; the back of her neck and her shape from behind instantly arouse him. Shit. He looks away.

The memories uncoil. He recalls looking down onto her strong back as his hands gripped the narrow of her waist. Her buttocks spread wide like the shape of a heart as he thrusts to the rhythm of her moans. He swallows. 

His hands are sweaty. Shit. She still makes him feel like a high school kid about to ask a girl to the dance. She has been the only woman able to intimate him and now he has to approach her. Was he nervous?

Fuck yeah.

“Okay class! Please remember you have a paper due next Tuesday. You all have my syllabus. You know where to find me,” Evelyn declared as the students begin to flood the then empty hallway.

She turns to her whiteboard. Damn, I really need to write more legibly if I want my students to pass.

She began to wipe the board. After two years of teaching, she’s identified one of her worst pet peeves: Walking into a room to teach and having to wipe clean the board because the teacher prior to her class did not extend the courtesy of wiping up their own crap. She attempts to inspire the good habit onto others by her own initiative actions.

Damn, I can’t reach that high, she drawls. It’s Mr. Duval’s scribbles. Apparently her “initiative action” has not rubbed off on him.

She grabs a rolling swivel desk chair and plants both knees on the seat in the failing attempt to erase Mr. Duval’s teachings.

“Allow me.” A sultry, deep, husky masculine voice echo beside her. She turns quickly and immediately recognizes him.

She gasps in bewilderment as the chair gave way and she slips off landing onto him. His arms loop around her, catching her balance in mid air and pulls her close. Their cheeks brush at a stand still.

Holy Shit. Ethan McCollin. What is he doing here?

She immediately pushes against him and manages to plant both feet on the ground. Shit. Clumsy then, clumsy now, she scolds herself.

She stands in front of him. Her breaths are shallow. She couldn’t look directly at his face. He still has power over her. He leans downward to find her eyes.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Y-yeah.” She nods too excessively. “I’m good. I-I’m fine.”

She felt her face blush and he smiles with a smirk. She knows he knows he still has an effect on her and it bothered her.

He takes the eraser from her hands and cleans the whiteboard. He certainly doesn’t have a height problem, she thought silently.

She quietly observes him.

Wow, God certainly knows how to perfect the human body. Five years on the football field has turned him into a man. His chest protrudes underneath the dark blue fitted t-shirt. The lines of his triceps clung tight to the shirtsleeves.  His jean hung low on those hips that lift upward those wide round shapely buttocks. His neck is strong and jawline curves perfectly with his close shave. She swallows.

Ethan McCollin does indeed fit the title of People Magazine’s sexiest man alive. Ethan McCollin is like the protagonist of a real boring movie but you go to the cinema anyway just to see his beautiful face plastered on a large screen. Ethan McCollin is the reason why you watch football every Sunday even though you know squat about the sport itself. Ethan McCollin is just – W.O.W.

A new class begins to filter in and she walks over to grab her teaching binder. She needed to get to her office. He sets the eraser down and walks toward her.

“Need help with that?” he asks smiling as to mock her clumsiness.

She breathes a sigh of relief to hear him break the silence. “No, no. I couldn’t possible screw this up.” She smiles nervously.

He stands in front of her, both hands in pocket, and just smiles. She stares at his beautiful symmetrical face, his eyes so blue the sky couldn’t compare, his plump delicious lips curl upward with his grin. W.O.W. He takes her breath away.

And what about her? Shit. She looks a mess. Out of sheer embarrassment, she attempts to walk pass him. He intercepts her. Gosh dammit, if she lacked any self-discipline she’d claw off his clothes and ride him until he had nothing left to give her.

She sighs in frustration and stare into those blue eyes that hasn’t lifted off her body.

“There’s another class coming in, Ethan.”

“I’ll be quick then.” He replies. He hands her a card. “There is an annual celebration in New York to honor this year’s athletes. I want to bring you as my date.”

Her jaw drops in bewilderment. Was this a request or a question? Ethan always excelled at making demands but flunk poorly at asking – which is the polite thing to do.

She squinted her eyes in deep thought and cocked her head.

“What if I say no?” This is her passive aggressive attempt to irritate him.

“Well, then I’d have to go alone. I don’t want to go alone. I only want to go with you.” He smirks confidently.

A breath of disbelief escapes her lips. The gall this guy has! He shows up out of the blue after five years and simply asks her on a date without even considering her life circumstances.

“How do you know I can go? I might be married with children.”

“No you’re not.” It’s his turn to challenge her.  He’s done his homework. She’s rated as the hottest eligible professor on campus.

Evelyn gasps.

Damn, has he been spying on her life? He can afford it; he’s got the money! Wait; was that a glimpse of melancholy she sensed from him? Having a shitload of money doesn’t always guarantee happiness.

She took the invitation from him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. My business card is within the invitation. Call me directly if you have any questions. In the meantime, be sure to answer my phone calls,” he reaches toward her binder to take a copy of her syllabus. “If you don’t, I know where to find you.” He smirks as to toy with her.

He folds the syllabus in half and walks out of the classroom; head down first so no one would notice him.


© Copyright 2017 Dawnlor. All rights reserved.

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