by Kata Čuić
A weird sensation vibrates against my thigh. I glance down to find Pavlov staring at me.
“Don’t judge me,” I hiss. “I know what I’m doing.”
He yawns then stretches. His claws pierce my skin through the comforter.
I don’t believe me either.
Mostly because I haven’t forgotten the last time I slept all night with Amira, even though it was six years ago. That was a moment of weakness, and here I am—signing up for more temptation.
Slowly, I manage to pull my arm from beneath her pillow. My limb is asleep as much as she is.
I roll onto my back and adjust my stiff dick in my boxers. This is such a bad idea, but until I come up with a better play, it’s all I’ve got.
Pavlov sits just below my balls and eyes the tent I’m making out of the sheets.
“This is not your scratching post,” I whisper to him.
He glares at me like he knows I’m almost desperate enough for anyone and anything except my own hand.
I’m tempted to kick the woman beside me. It’s all her fault that it’s been years since I got my dick wet in something other than my own shower.
Not that she knows that. Hell, no one knows that.
Even the people who think they know me the best have no idea how long it’s really been. As far as they’re concerned, I’m the same old Alex. Getting it whenever and wherever I can. I should probably ask the shrink in my bed what it says about me that I’m such a good liar.
Amira rolls onto her back, too. Her tank top pulls to the side, and one of the best tits I’ve ever seen pops out. Full, round, no need for a push-up bra. The brown sugar, perky nipple mocks me.
I hate this woman.
My phone dings on the nightstand. I’ve never been so relieved for an early-morning text.
Gorge: Vets breakfast. Mayview insists. Up and at ‘em, Sunshine! We’re meeting at Keke’s in thirty.
Alex: See you there.
Never thought I’d be grateful for Mayview insisting on anything. I am. That doesn’t stop me from pressing my lips to Amira’s warm cheek. I never even hugged her yesterday or told her I was happy to see her. Still not sure if I am.
“Hey, I’ve gotta meet up with some teammates. I’ll be back later, then we’ll make arrangements to get the rest of your stuff here.”
She cracks an eye open. “No. I’ll leave everything in storage. Have a nice time though.”
Stubborn woman.
I gesture toward her chest with my chin. “Even your boobs want to live here.”
She glances down then adjusts her tank before rolling over onto her stomach with barely a glare at me. She’s come a long way from the woman who practically took hours to get naked for the first time.
“See you later, Brawn,” she mumbles into the pillow.
“That’s it?” I chuckle. “No good morning kiss? No thanks for letting you sleep in my bed last night? Nothing?”
She wiggles her ass at me.
Now, that’s what I call gratitude.
I give it a firm swat.
She moans.
Nope. I gotta get outta here.
Mayview stands at the head of the table with his glass of OJ raised in the air like he’s giving a goddamn toast. “Here’s to another winning season. If we train our next class of rookies right, we have every chance of making a Superbowl run this year.”
The guys who are already in town before camp applaud his sentiment.
All right. I guess he is giving a toast.
Gorge elbows me in the side.
I clap my hands together once. That’s all I’m giving that asshole.
“You wanna ruin this shot for everyone else?” Gorge mutters. “You can’t deny he’s got the skills to take us there.”
I roll my eyes and clap a second time.
“Next order of business,” Mayview booms. “We have a new team psych ready and waiting for y’all—Dr. Amira Deep.”
I grit my teeth.
Gorge cuts a side-eye to me.
Mayview’s smile kicks up a notch. “Now, of course, y’all will be respectful when you meet her in person in a few days, but I wanted to give a heads-up.” He gestures toward me with his glass. “Fossoway, here, has put up his entire yearly bonus on betting he can get her into bed before me. If anyone wants to take those long odds, we’ll be closing the pool before camp.”
Fuck. I should’ve known he’d make me look like the bad guy.
He set the trap, and I walked right into it.
If it had been any other woman, I might not have.
I lean back in my chair. All I can do now is save face. For both of us. “Considering she couldn’t go to dinner with you last night because she was moving in with me, this bet is already over.”
Mayview doesn’t look the least bit deflated. That worries me. “Considering you’ve been friends since college, and she just got into town and probably needs a temporary place to stay, I don’t see it as a problem.”
Oh, shit. He knows. I don’t know how he knows, but he knows.
This is all a big game to him. A way to get the thorn—me—out of his side.
Every important player on the team stares at me.
Gorge speaks up first. “You’ve known Dr. Deep since college? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Mayview makes a big show of wincing. “Probably because Dr. Deep disclosed their friendship during the hiring process and promised she wouldn’t counsel him because that would violate rules of impartiality.” He doesn’t mince words, and he doesn’t emphasize that one on accident.
At least now I know how he found out Amira and I are already acquainted. Mayview and the GM have always been tight. Like a mutual noose.
“The bet is still on. Should be a pretty easy touchdown for me since you’re in the friend-zone.”
The rest of the team laughs at his shitty pun.
Mayview grins. His teeth are sharp and pointy. He’s a fucking vampire.
Hell no am I going to let him sink his teeth into Amira.
“Pretty confident, huh?” I clasp my hands behind my head. “Let’s up the stakes then, QB.”
There’s a flash of hesitation in his eyes before he takes the bait. He’s not willing to lose face in front of the team he’s supposed to lead. “You’re on.”
“Getting a woman into bed is for high schoolers. Too easy.” I would know. My team was responsible for one of the worst sex bets in the history of Ironville High School. It still pisses me off when I think about it. Like I said, I’ve learned some shit the hard way. “Think you can put a ring on it, B-Lake? Or are you not willing to go that far?”
His eyes widen, but he shakes it off like a sack in the first quarter. He’s a pro, and he calls the plays.
I’m counting on it.
His pointy teeth glimmer in the sunlight that streams through the windows of the best breakfast joint in town. “Oh, I can go that far, Fossoway. I’m just not sure you’ll be willing to pay the price if you lose.”
“Spit it out, B-Lake.” I’m not going to lose.
“How’s that knee feeling?”
Everyone on the team knows I busted it up during a camping trip with Jimmy earlier this summer. We don’t hide injuries; we hide the pain.
“Like shit.” I grin. “How’s that shoulder?”
I just knew he’d go for the big time.
“Fucking awful.” He smiles back. Pointier than ever. “Surgery for whoever doesn’t get her to say yes first.”
The guys around the table are deathly silent. Surgery isn’t uncommon in our line of work, but we all know why we avoid it. Because there’s a fifty-fifty shot we won’t make it back after we go under the knife. Even if we can make a physical comeback, the recovery and rehab time puts our contracts in jeopardy.
“Done.” I actually shake the bastard’s hand in front of witnesses to make it official.
I’ve got bad news for B-Lake because I’ve got an ace up my sleeve he doesn’t know about.
I love
d her first.
I guess it’s time to finally admit it to her. And myself.
“This isn’t necessary,” I say for the hundredth time.
Alex must be as sick of hearing it as I am of saying it. He rolls his eyes and continues to attach the top level of the cat castle.
Yes. This is what it’s called. It says so directly on the large cardboard box that’s torn apart in the middle of the otherwise opulent, mostly empty living room.
He puts on the finishing touches—a toy mouse mounted to a spring, an odd rounded attachment that doubles as a brush, and feathers that dangle from several strings. He stands, holding a plastic bag of what appears to be dried grass. “Now, the fun part.”
He sprinkles brown confetti all over the apparatus, then sits beside me on the sofa so close that our shoulders and thighs touch.
“What is going to happen?” Bad things if I cannot get the tingles spreading across my skin under control. I put more appropriate distance between us. I have traveled down this road of disappointment with him once before. I would rather not like a repeat. If there had been a job opening on any other team…
“We get dinner and a show.”
I grab the bag out of his hand and read it. “Catnip. You are going to get my cat high for your own entertainment? How do you even know about this if you have never had a pet?”
A smile spreads across his face as Pavlov stalks into the room, sniffing the air. Alex slaps my thigh in excitement as my cat circles closer to the monstrosity. “Rob and Evie adopted a couple of cats in high school. We used to get them high on catnip and laugh for hours while they rolled around like lunatics until they finally passed out. It’s fun. You’ll see.”
“You really are more boring than most people realize,” I mumble. It feels less insulting than telling him I believe he is having difficulty letting go of the woman he obviously still loves. That is a heavier conversation for another time. Preferably never. “Shall I order in dinner for you then? You should relax as much as possible before camp begins.”
“Oh, shit. No.” He scrubs his hands over his face as if he’s already mentally preparing for the rigors of training camp. He likely is. The smile on his face doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he turns his gaze to me. “We should go out to dinner. My treat. A welcome to Orlando slash congrats on the new job celebration.”
I raise my eyebrow in suspicion. This, from the man who threatened to strangle me a mere twenty-four hours ago for invading his turf? “If we are seen in public together, then we will be photographed together. I think we both know how the media will spin a simple dinner.”
He sees my arched eyebrow and raises me another. “Still embarrassed to be seen with me in public?” He chuckles. “Wow. I’m having flashbacks to college when you made me promise to keep our lessons a secret.”
“On what planet would publicizing our lessons have been a good idea? It would have ruined your reputation as a manwhore and jeopardized mine as a tutor for the team. Just as being seen together at dinner would not be beneficial for either of our careers now,” I insist.
I made that rule for his benefit then. Some things haven’t changed between us. We’re still not in a position to be open about our friendship.
His blue eyes ice over. “Maybe I’d believe those as your reasons if you hadn’t jumped into a relationship with another guy on the team right after you flunked my lessons.”
I carry enough hindsight guilt about all of that. I don’t need him throwing past mistakes in my face as well, especially if it means he will finally admit he regrets wasting his time helping me.
“I did not realize you were going to grade me on the material,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest to ward off the chill coming from him. “Do you really want Evie to see pictures of us out at dinner the next time she logs into her social media? She will be as likely as anyone to make inferences that aren’t true. Even though she chose to remain in her marriage, I was under the impression you had not returned to your manwhore ways because of her.”
The bitterness tastes awful on my tongue. It is too late to swallow the words back.
He mimics my defensive posture, also crossing his arms over his chest. The position looks much better on him—all bulging biceps and sculpted pecs. “That’s what you’re worried about? You’re scared we’re going to run into one of the hundreds of women I’ve banged in Orlando over the past two years? Come on, Brain. At least you know I have the experience to show you a better time than the losers you’ve slept with in Cali.”
I know very well the skills he has learned from years of experience. Skills that have been unmatched in my life since then. The anger behind that awareness propels my next words. I am not above using his toxic masculinity against him. Not in my personal life anyway. Mostly because I know his skills have never extended beyond a bed that wasn’t his.
“I know you have not banged a single woman in your time in Orlando. Perhaps you are…rusty.”
An expression of horror washes across his face. It begins with his eyebrows popping into the thick shock of black hair that falls over his forehead then descends to wide eyes then further down to a gaping mouth. His voice is high-pitched. “You take that back right now!”
“I won’t.” I cross my arms tighter over my chest, clinging to my childish petulance. I cannot say why his offer for dinner is bringing up all these emotions I thought long buried. I wish I could hold my tongue. I wish I would have gone to any team except the Sharks. Even Cleveland.
He pounces on me like he’s the one high off catnip.
Before I can blink, I am flat on my back, sprawled across the couch with his considerable, delicious weight pressing down on me.
No. Not delicious. Damnable. I can barely breathe.
I resist the urge to moan when he wraps his hand around my throat.
“You remember those rules you wanted so desperately to renegotiate?” He whispers against my ear. “Here they are. One—you will stay the fuck away from Mayview unless it’s at the Sharks complex in a professional capacity. Two—if I say jump, you will ask how high. That means if I say we’re going out to dinner, then you’d better put on your best cleavage-revealing dress and be waiting in the fucking car for me. If I tell you to suck my cock, then you’ll get on your knees with your mouth open wide. Three—never forget I put you here, and I can pull the rug out from beneath your feet just as fast.”
I swallow against the pressure around my throat. If this is a renegotiation, then I have terms of my own. I refuse to acknowledge the fact that he has helped me get to where I am today. It could have just as easily been any other athlete at State who provided the data for my thesis.
“One—you will not dictate how I perform my job. Two—you are clearly lonely, so I will agree to be your companion. If for no other reason than I do not wish to see your career falter from lack of human interaction beyond the locker room. Now, we are even for the help you rendered me in college.”
He rolls his eyes.
Even with his hand around my neck, I use my free arm to slap my palm over his open mouth before he can argue. “Stop pretending that me completing your assignments for you was adequate recompense. Three—I will never get on my knees for you.”
I already put myself there once, even if only proverbially.
He brings his face directly in front of mine, flattening me with his gaze that sees so much yet reveals so little. “Just so we’re clear—no sex, but you agree to do anything else I ask of you?”
“I will not stay away from Mayview,” I clarify. “If it is acceptable for me to go to dinner with you, then it is also acceptable for me to go to go dinner with him.”
He frowns and calls my bluff. “And look like the team mattress? I think not, sweetheart. If you can’t be seen in public with me, then you damn well can’t be photographed at dinner with him.”
“You have yourself a deal, Fossoway.”
I have no plans to be seen in public with any of the players, other than at team funct
ions. This is truly no hardship for me. My focus for the rest of the season will be on my new job and on finding a decent man to placate my parents. Preferably, one who doesn’t play football.
Every fucking player on the receiving squad has his hand raised except Betts. At least they have the shame not to be able to look me in the eyes.
“Seriously? You’re all betting against me?”
“Hey, what am I? Chopped liver?” Gorge complains.
I roll my eyes. If anyone has a reason to bet against me for a personal grudge, it’s Gorge. Actually, I take that back. I helped him grovel to his wife, so he owes me his undying loyalty.
“None of you think I can close this deal?”
The poor rookies hang their heads in shame. They don’t know shit about shit yet, but at least they feel bad. It could also be that they’re dead on their feet after a week of training camp like they’ve never experienced before.
The vets I’ve played with for the past several seasons stare at the other sideline where Amira and Mayview are chatting. He’s wearing his most charming smile, and she laughs at something he says.
My former QB and best friend, Rob, always used to talk about developing laser vision. He’s a hardcore geek beneath his football pads, but suddenly, I understand the appeal. It would be so satisfying to turn B-Lake into a smoldering pile of ash. Destroying him with a glance would also save me a lot of problems.
Amira turns, so she’s in profile. Everyone on the squad tilts their heads in unison to get a better angle.
One of the rookies whistles under his breath. “Tits and ass for days.”
He’s not wrong, but I curl my fists to keep from punching him in the mouth.
She just has to show up every day wearing yoga pants and a fitted Sharks tee. Why can’t she go back to layers and layers of clothes, a scarf, and her big, nerdy glasses? Oh, wait. Because I opened my stupid mouth about her glasses the first day she showed up here. Damn me.