by Hannah Gray
Lane looks over at me and cups his hands around his mouth. “Yo, Kade! We having a party at the house Friday? Fresh meat is here, and you know I’m ready for a feast fit for a king!” He snickers and bumps fists with Trevor, a defenseman on the team.
Lane and Mason are my best friends. All of us on the team are like a family, but these two are who I’d call if I found myself in a brawl and needed backup. I should say, the ones I have called. They always show. Just like when someone fucks with one of them at a party, I’d jump in. You fuck with one of us; you deal with all of us. Or if I robbed a bank, one would be beside me, the other driving the getaway car. Not like any of us would ever do anything of the sort, but you get the picture. Lane has his demons. Hell, we all do. But he’s a good guy, and he’d do anything for the ones in his circle.
The three of us live in a house just off campus. So, technically, they don’t need to ask me if we are having a party or not. But I guess since I am the team captain and that I don’t always agree with their degree of partying during football season, it makes me the decision maker. Also, the house is mine—well, Daddy Dearest’s actually. Part of me lets them have these parties just to trash that fucker’s house. He bought it to keep me under his thumb, not as a kind gesture. The most pathetic thing is, for the most part, it works.
Lacing up my sneakers, I answer, “You guys can have one party before the season starts up. But I’m not cleaning up shit or picking up kegs or anything. You want the party? It’s up to you. And this is it, Lane. We can’t fuck off all season. This is our senior fucking year.”
Lane leans back and looks at Mason. “Damn, someone’s got pissy pants on. You need to get laid or what, man?”
“Nah, he’s all set in that department. Emery Leighton was there this morning and Katie Lancaster two days before that,” Mason answers with a smirk.
Lane slaps my back. “Yeah, buddy! You at least let them spend the night?”
“Fuck off,” I grunt, really not wanting to be fucked with right now.
They have no room to talk. I mean, they have a new girl over at least three days of the week. Sleeping with random girls surely helps me pass the time. But honestly, I think the biggest reason why I do it, why I feed into the piranhas and give them their way, is because that’s what they expect me to do. I am expected to be the jock who sleeps around and parties. Not many people really know how my life is not picture-perfect. Or how fucking numb and empty I feel. I’m not really a good guy. And the worst part? I don’t care.
“I hear Sebastian Anderson’s fraternity house is having a get-together tonight. Let’s ride by later and check it out,” Mason says while throwing his practice clothes in his duffel bag.
“It’s Wednesday. We’ve got practice at seven a.m. tomorrow. And since when do we want to hang out with those tool bags?” I growl.
Let’s face it; I’m the only one who takes anything seriously, and to me, the fraternity boys are all tool bags. I mean, I’m an asshole, but come on, I’m the quarterback at NE University. I have enough reasons to back it up. And they walk around in their preppy fucking shirts with their hair spiked and shit. Yep, I stand behind my point—tool bags.
He places his hand on my shoulder. “Oh, come on, Trent. Take your tampon out for one night and come out and have a few beers. It’s not like it’s an all-night bender. We’ll go for an hour and be home before one. Besides, they always have plenty of freshmen tail showing up at their parties.”
“Fine. But if you drink too much or you’re tired and act like a little bitch at practice tomorrow, I’ll make sure Coach runs you until you puke.”
Mason slaps me on the back. “I knew you’d come around and stop being such a little bitch. But save some chicks for me and Lane. Just because you’re the quarterback doesn’t mean you get to keep all the pussy to yourself. We know I’m the real MVP.”
Lane and I both roll our eyes but laugh.
“Yeah, sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Lane throws back at him.
The truth is, we all play a crucial part of making the team win. Mason is our best wide receiver, Lane our best running back. We have some kick-ass defensemen. Because we’ve played together for going on four years, we have a pretty strong bond on the field. These fuckers get on my nerves, no doubt. But at the end of the day, they are my boys.
I just need to keep Lane in check this season.
three
Cameran
“Why did I let you talk me into this?” I smooth down the piece of fabric Anna calls a dress. I feel way too exposed. Sort of like I belong on the Vegas Strip in the middle of the night. Only I’m not a hooker. I’m a damn college girl.
Anna also talked me into letting her apply way more makeup than I typically wear. It’s official. I’m out of my comfort zone.
“Oh, Cam! Come on. It’ll be fun! It’s just a little get-together—an excellent opportunity for us to find some men to sink our teeth into.” She slaps my hand away from the hem. “Stop pulling on my dress! It’s the longest one I have. With you pulling on it, it’s going to get so long that I’ll never be able to wear it again! We’re young, and we’re hot, so let loose for a few hours! It’s college! It’s what we’re supposed to do!”
The truth is, ever since … nope, not going there.
I take a moment to take a deep breath and let it out. My therapist says that will help me cleanse my thoughts.
I plaster on a smile and look at my roommate. “Okay, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
The “get-together” is a full-blown party. I make a mental note to never trust Anna’s gauge on social gatherings again. Couches and coffee tables have been pushed against the wall, and sweaty girls and guys are on the makeshift dance floor in the living room, grinding on each other. There’s a crowd in the kitchen around the alcohol. At least I feel a little better in my dress once I see what other girls are wearing—or not wearing.
“Want a drink?” Anna yells in my ear while moving her body to the beat of the music.
It’s clear to see that this scene is easy for her. She is confident and good in social situations. Opposite of me—or the me these past few years, that is.
“Sure, I’ll go with you.”
She grabs my hand, and we weave through the crowd of sweaty bodies. In between couples making out, people smoking weed, and two girls down to their underwear, making out as guys cheer loudly, I try to keep my anxiety at bay. Which, by the way, totally isn’t working. I haven’t been to a party since the beginning of my sophomore year. I still have that feeling in the pit of my stomach that I shouldn’t even be here.
We make it to the kitchen, and Anna busies herself with finding something to drink. I haven’t allowed myself to drink and let loose in such a long time. I’ll admit, I’m extremely uncomfortable. But I know me, and I might need the liquid courage to get through this night without dodging early.
I notice beers that aren’t open. Beer is my choice of alcohol. Or was my choice of alcohol, I should say. The past few years, I haven’t had a drop of anything besides expensive wine and champagne that I secretly hated. Plus, these aren’t open yet, so there’s no chance of them being roofied. After all, one can never be too careful. It’s a scary world we’re living in. Nothing is ever what it seems.
We stand there in the kitchen and mingle. Okay, maybe I should rephrase. Anna mingles with some girls that I gather she took an art class with last year. She introduces me to a girl named Kelly, who has long red hair and freckles and looks like she could be fourteen, and her friend Sam, who has almost white-blonde hair and looks like a surfer chick. I finish my beer and decide if I’m going to have fun, I’d better get another. They chat a bit longer while I finish my second beer, followed by a third. By the first sip of the fourth, my lightweight self has a pretty decent buzz.
“Let’s dance!” Anna squeals.
Normally, I would say no. I’d be nervous of how I might look or that someone would get the wrong idea. But tonight, I’m going to have fun. I’m going to
act like the college senior that I am. This is my second chance, and damn it, I’m going to take it.
“Sure! Why not?” I giggle, my cheeks filling with warmth from my buzz.
She jumps up and down, squealing, and pulls me toward the dance floor.
We just make it to the dance area when the song “Say So” by Doja Cat comes on.
“Ooh, I love this song!” I blurt out.
I close my eyes and let my body move to the beat, Anna at my side. I dance like no one is watching, honestly not even caring if anyone is.
Trent
We walk in, and people move to the side, making a path for us. Being on the football team is basically like being a celebrity around here. Never mind being the quarterback of that football team. I get some fist bumps and slaps on the back. Girls always try to come and tuck themselves under my arm. Sometimes, I’ll allow it. Really, it depends on what kind of mood I’m in and how good they look.
A girl with bleached-blonde hair and a set on her chest, which I’m certain are fake yet still fucking perfect for my purposes, comes into my line of passage and runs her fingernails up and down my arm. “Hey, Trent. Can I catch a ride on you later—oops, I meant, with you?” she says in a sultry tone and giggles.
I look her up and down. Oh yeah, she’ll do.
It stopped surprising me freshman year how forward these chicks were. Oh, and horny. Holy hell, I think they are as bad as my teammates when it comes to sleeping around. And, hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. Sex is a good thing. A fucking great thing.
“Sure. But we’ve got an early practice.”
She slowly licks her lips, a little tease of what’s to come. “That’s cool. I don’t need to stay the night to get what I’m looking for.” She punctuates her statement by thrusting her tits even higher, giving me the perfect view into her cleavage.
My cock twitches as the endless possibilities run through my head of what I could do with tits that big.
We all walk toward the kitchen. I grab a beer for myself and then remind the guys that we have a four-beer limit each and have to be home before one. Although, with the way this girl is grinding her ass on me, I’d be fine with leaving right now. They all grumble in dismay, but someone has to keep their asses in check.
“So, you guys think you’ve got a shot at the championship this year?” Tool Bag One asks. His voice dripping with smugness.
I’d like to punch him in the face just for his popped collar. Who wears a popped collar these days? Douche bags—that’s who.
“Fuck yeah, we do,” says Mason. “Best looking NEU has been in years. We got the motherfucking dream team going on.” He lightly punches me in the shoulder. Then, he nods at the bleached-blonde girl and says low enough for only me to hear, “I heard she deep-throats like a champ.”
Then, he strolls off in the crowd, likely to find his own entertainment for the night. It isn’t like he’ll have to search long. Let’s face it; women throw themselves at us like we’re gods. It’s great, I guess. But sometimes, I wonder if I was stripped of the quarterback title and Daddy’s money, who would be in line then? Oh well. Might as well enjoy the perks, right? Even if they do sometimes make me feel like the walls are closing in around me.
“And what about you, Kade? You think you’ve got a shot?” He leans back in his seat, making room for a half-naked chick to slide on his lap.
She might be on his lap, but she’s staring at me with fuck me eyes. They’re all the same.
Unable to hide my annoyance toward this tool any longer, I answer in a cocky tone, “I don’t know, man. Why don’t you follow this season and find out?”
His face gets a flash of anger, but then he realizes who he’s talking to, and it’s quickly replaced with stuttering and stammering. Eventually, he and his date get up and leave. Though she turns to give me one last seductive smile on their way by.
Bleached-blonde girl turns around, pushes me down on a barstool, and positions herself between my legs. Her mouth attacks my neck while she takes one hand and works her way up my thigh, getting closer and closer to her desired destination. I open my legs wider, making room for my main man to stretch out, welcoming whatever her goal is. Guess I should be glad the guys dragged me out. I can tell she’s going to be fucking wild in the sack. I’m just about to tell her that we should head back to my place when something—or rather, someone—on the dance floor catches my eye.
My eyes watch this mysterious creature I’ve never seen. She’s petite with honey-blonde hair flying in every direction as she dances. She’s got on a black dress, short enough that I can see toned, tanned legs. The dress is form-fitting enough that I can see if she’s got a nice ass. She swings around the other way, giving me the perfect view, and dear Lord, she certainly does. Just the right amount of curves to her body to send a jolt straight down to my boxers.
Fuck, who is that?
Suddenly, the need to ditch this bleached-blonde chick is strong.
“Hey, I just remembered I’m meeting someone.” I jump to my feet, pushing her off of me in the process. “Gotta go.”
I can’t explain the need to get over to that girl, but all I know is, I have to before anyone else does.
She sticks out her bottom lip into a pout. “Trent, you don’t even have to fuck me. I’m very good with my mouth. Come on. Don’t make a girl beg,” she says as she pushes her tits up against my chest.
Pathetic. This girl so badly wants everyone to see Trent Kade left this party with her that she is willing to blow me and get nothing in return. How degrading.
“All set. Thanks though. Trust me, I’m sure a lot of other guys would love to have your mouth offered to them.” With that, I turn and walk off.
I watch her for a bit longer before approaching. Everything she does somehow mesmerizes me. She’s got her eyes closed, so she doesn’t know I’m approaching her yet. She’s got a friend who has red hair and an edgier look dancing next to her. Damn, these two probably have every fucker in here watching them with a hard-on. Why does the thought of that piss me off? And why the fuck do I care? I don’t ever care. Do I sleep with girls? Yeah. Do I ever feel anything? Fuck no, I don’t. I shake the feeling off.
“Hey there, gorgeous. I’d love to have this next dance.”
I have no idea what I’m even saying right now. I hate dancing. I like watching chicks grind on each other while they dance. But I don’t dance. Fuck no. I make fun of my teammates when they dance. Look at me now.
Her eyes snap open, big grayish-blue eyes greeting me. But not in the way I am typically greeted. Instead of the usual lust I’m met with, she appears panicked. Which I can honestly say is never a reaction I have gotten out of a girl.
“Um, no, I’m with my friend.” Her dancing stops, and she stands as still as a statue.
The redhead obviously knows who I am because she looks at her friend and gives her a wide-eyed expression. She nudges her side. “Cam, come on. He can dance with us, plenty of room.”
Cam says in a nervous voice, “I just told you I was going to find a bathroom before we head home. You two dance.” And then, before either of us can say anything, off she goes. Her blonde hair dancing down her back, swaying with every step.
I want to look away, but fuck, I can’t do it. It’s what I imagine feeling hypnotized is like.
Her friend watches her leave and turns to me. “Sorry, er, she did just tell me she needed to use the bathroom. Shitty timing, I guess.”
I watch her carefully, narrowing my eyes. “No, she didn’t. But it’s okay. You’re being a good friend. But why does she seem petrified of me?”
“Honestly, Cameran and I just became roommates, like, three days ago. But I like her. So, yeah, I lied. Maybe you just aren’t her type,” she says with a shrug.
“Babe, I’m everybody’s type.” I wink.
“Ohh, a conceited, cocky football player? Sure, who wouldn’t want a guy like that? Well, I’d better go find her. Have a good night, Mr. Quarterback. Try not to strike out o
n your next pickup,” she says with two thumbs-up and then turns to head to where her friend went.
I have to basically hold my jaw up, so it doesn’t hit the floor. Two girls disgusted by me in one night? This. Doesn’t. Happen. Ever.
I get a weird feeling to nonchalantly follow them to make sure they make it out okay. There are a lot of scumbags at these parties. Though I’m pretty sure Red could handle herself, the beautiful blonde seemed shell-shocked. I turn the corner to see one of the frat tools cornering someone. He’s a pretty big guy, so I can see why no one else would notice it, but I am an even bigger guy, so I can see right over his shoulder.
“Come on, pretty thing. I won’t disappoint. Bet it’ll be the best night of your life. Just come upstairs with me. What do you say?”
“Please, I have a friend waiting. I’m not interested. Get away from me.”
I see him grab her tiny wrist and pin it against the wall. “You fucking bitch, you think you have a choice—”
That’s all I need before Big Dude is smashed against the wall. My arm pinning him by the throat. “Get the fuck away from her, you fuck stick. And don’t even look her way again, or you’ll be in a grave. Got it?” I say and push my arm tighter to his throat while he gasps for air. “I said, do you got it?” I growl before releasing him, so he falls in a heap at my feet.
“Yeah, yeah, Trent,” he says as he scurries off the floor. “She’s not worth it though, man. She knew what she was doing, dancing like—”
I punch him in the face before he can finish his sentence. He flies backward and lands on his ass. I look at Cam, her eyes are the size of saucers, and I can tell she’s trying not to cry.
I put my arm around her slowly enough not to startle her again. “Let’s go. I’m taking you home.”
I hear some gasping, some clapping, and some people yelling, “Fight,” but I don’t give a fuck.