by Max Monroe
Thank God.
Before I could start dancing on my own, he wrapped me up tight in his arms and gave me a big old bear hug. “I’m gonna miss you, Sixy,” he said and grinned down at me. “Keep in touch, okay?”
“Definitely.” I nodded. “Bring home a championship?”
He smiled as wide as Texas. “You got it.”
The beat and tempo of the song increased, and my body vibrated with the need to let loose. Between the lyrics of “This Is What You Came For” and Rihanna’s sexy, sultry voice, I couldn’t not dance around to it.
But my solo performance didn’t last long. Another thirty seconds into the song and someone came up behind me, wrapping their arms around my waist and pulling me close to their chest. I leaned my head back to find Sean looking down at me.
“W-what are you doing?” I asked, shocked by his very public display of affection.
It wasn’t the first time he’d been a little too touchy-feely with me at this party.
“I’m dancing with you,” he whispered into my ear, and goose bumps rolled up my spine and down my arms. “I’m dancing with the sexiest woman on the fucking planet.”
My traitorous heart pitter-pattered inside my chest at his words, and the realization of too much PDA between us in front of other people was long forgotten.
Next thing I knew, with hips swaying, I followed his rhythm.
He felt so good wrapped around me. And inside of his arms, I just felt safe; it just felt right.
And I didn’t feel like thinking about saying goodbye.
I didn’t feel like thinking or doing anything besides staying close to him.
So, I did. And we danced until one song bled into the next song and the next.
But my momentary bliss started to fade away as I started to look around the room, and eventually, the reality of our situation began to grow heavy on my shoulders.
No one knew Sean and I had been hooking up.
No one knew we’d had sex or that something had grown between us.
We’d hid it. From everyone.
None of that really mattered, though, because whatever we’d started would come to a screeching halt.
My chest started to grow tight with anxiety, and the inside of my mouth felt dry and scratchy like sandpaper. I needed a drink. And I needed space. And I needed not to feel so many fucking things for Sean.
His dating record had proven he wasn’t the relationship kind of guy, yet I was the relationship kind of girl.
And more than that, I wouldn’t be here anymore, following the team around. I wouldn’t see him on a daily basis, nor would we have hotel rooms and secret doors to hide behind.
Filming was done, and I’d be headed back to San Diego in the morning.
I could fantasize and dream and wish all I wanted, but the facts were pretty clear-cut. The odds of Sean wanting to be in some sort of long-distance relationship were a big fat fucking zero. And sadly, I knew to my core I wouldn’t be able to continue whatever it was we were doing with the reality of understanding that monogamy wasn’t a possibility on his end.
My thoughts had gotten away from me, and I hated myself for even thinking about Sean and relationships in the same sentence.
Rationally, I knew better than that. But my stupid heart seemed to have a hell of a time understanding the certainty of the situation.
I disentangled myself from his arms, and he looked down at me, brow raised.
“I’m going to grab a drink,” I said and didn’t stick around any longer.
I needed to put some distance between us, but I didn’t go to the table where all of the drinks and snacks were located. Straight out of the entrance of the reception room, I found a quiet spot down one of the long corridors that had a gorgeous floor-to-ceiling view of New York City’s skyline.
The lights glimmered and shone, and I just stared off into the distance, taking in the tall skyscrapers and wondering what the hustle and bustle of the city that never sleeps looked like at half past one in the morning on a Saturday night.
“Everything okay?”
Instantly, I froze in my spot. I knew that voice like the back of my hand.
And my traitorous heart, well, she knew the man behind that voice all too well. Hell, she all but jumped out of my chest at his first word.
I just nodded and kept my eyes trained on the cityscape view. “Just needed to cool down for a little bit.”
Sean moved toward me and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, tucking me into his side.
And I liked it, too fucking much. He felt too good. This felt too good. And quickly, it became more than I could handle.
My heart responded with an ache and pound and twist inside my chest.
God, I liked him. Way, way too much.
Like him? You’ve fallen for him.
Fuck.
The mere idea of not seeing him on a daily basis was already hard enough. But when I calculated in the fact that whatever had grown between us would now come to a sudden end, it was too much pain for me to physically tolerate.
I disentangled myself from him, and he stared down at me like I’d grown two heads.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, and the concern in his voice made my throat constrict.
“I’m good,” I said and forced a phony-ass smile on my lips. “I’m a little sad to leave you guys, but I’m really excited to finally go back home to California. It’s way more my speed.”
Lies. Lies. Lies.
“Look, Six,” he started, and I watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “We really need to talk.”
I waited for more. But he didn’t offer more. He just stared down at me, his brow furrowed and his full lips fixed into a firm line.
He’s probably just trying to find a way to let you down easy, my mind taunted.
I mean, this was Sean Phillips. The playboy. The famous football player who avoided labels and relationships and commitment. The man most women knew as the manwhore with the big cock.
I mentally grimaced at that thought.
God, I had to get out of here.
I had to find reprieve away from this stadium, away from my thoughts, away from him.
I needed to woman up and just save him the time and hassle of trying to find the right way to end this, whatever the fuck it was.
Forcing a deep inhale into my lungs and long, quiet exhale through my mouth, I steeled myself for what I was about to do.
Up on my tippy toes, I pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, and it took all of my strength not to let my lips linger against his skin.
“This has been a lot of fun,” I said and locked my gaze with his. “But I guess it’s time to get back to real life, huh?”
“Get back to real life?” he questioned, and his full, soft, fucking kissable lips turned down at the corners.
God, I’ll miss those lips.
Sorrow pricked behind my eyes, and I had to swallow past the thick emotion lodging itself in my throat.
Just fucking focus, Six.
“You know,” I said and cleared my throat. “Get back to real life.”
He didn’t respond, instead just stared down at me.
“I mean, we both knew whatever was going on between us couldn’t last forever, right?” I tried to lighten the situation, but stiff and stilted and strained, my words felt all wrong.
He looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I watched the way the lines of his face hardened beneath the shadowed light of the night’s sky. “So, this is goodbye?” he asked and brought his gaze back to mine.
Goodbye.
God, it hurt my heart.
Especially when I had to hear that word leave his lips.
It was much easier to handle coming from my mouth or when it was locked tight inside my head.
“Yeah,” I said, pushing my words past the growing tightness in my throat and chest. “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Take care of yourself, Six,” he said soft as a whisper and
wrapped me up in a tight hug.
But the embrace ended quicker than it started. And before I knew it, Sean gave me his official goodbye.
He let me go, and without another word, walked away from me.
A sob threatened to bubble up my throat, but I swallowed hard against the emotional onslaught and held a hand to my lips.
I stared at the skyline for God knows how long. But eventually, the tears pricking behind my eyes became too thick, and I headed in the opposite direction he’d gone and found reprieve inside of a women’s restroom.
Locking myself inside one of the stalls and with my head in my hands, I did the only thing I could do. I cried.
Big fat fucking pathetic tears.
They were there because I would miss him.
They were there because saying goodbye to Sean felt like the hardest thing I’d ever done.
And mostly, they were there because I was a stupid, stupid girl who had let herself fall for a man who never fell for anyone.
“Dude,” QB yelled toward me just as Coach Bennett blew his whistle. “What’s going on?”
“I’m just having a shit day,” I muttered, but deep down, I fucking knew why.
Ever since Six had so easily said goodbye to me a few days ago, and basically written us and what we’d shared together off as some emotionless just having fun situation, I’d been completely fucked in the head.
This was new territory for me.
I’d never, in my whole life, been mindfucked by a woman.
I couldn’t scrub our last conversation from my brain. Couldn’t distract my mind enough not to keep hearing her final words on a loop inside my head. And more than that, I couldn’t erase the memory of what she’d looked like when she’d said it.
She’d looked sad. Like something was off. Like she hadn’t wanted to say the words that had left her lips.
But still, she’d said them.
Maybe I’d just been imagining her despondence? Maybe I’d just wanted her to be sad about it? But, in reality, she was back home in California and had already found a new fuck buddy?
Dude, she’s not the fuck buddy type, my mind whispered.
If that was the truth, she sure as fuck seemed fine with it when it came to me.
“Phillips!” Coach B shouted from the sideline, and I jogged toward him.
I’d been playing like shit since I stepped onto the field this morning. Surely, his current plans revolved around shoving his foot up my ass or kicking me straight in the dick.
When it came to a pissed-off Coach Bennett, both were pretty viable options.
“What the fuck is going on?” he spat toward me once I stopped in front of him. “Are you trying to play that fucking bad? Or did you get your goddamn period and need a fucking tampon?”
Yeah. He was pissed.
“Sorry, Coach,” I said dutifully. Honestly, when Bennett was on this big of a tirade, there wasn’t much more you could do besides sit there and take it until he’d cleansed himself of anger.
“You’re sorry?” he exclaimed and tossed his clipboard onto the ground. “Oh, man! Well, that makes every-fucking-thing better!”
And then, even though he stood a good few inches below me, he reached up and grabbed me by the face mask and got directly in my face.
“Listen up,” he spat toward me, and I fought the urge to flinch when his fucking saliva hit me directly on the cheek. “You’re going to go home and figure out whatever the fuck is making you play like you can’t tell the difference between your head and your ass. And by next practice, you’re going to be back to the Sean Phillips I know. The man who plays his fucking ass off and never drops the goddamn ball. Got it?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He stared at me for a long moment before letting go of my helmet and striding toward the center of the field.
“All right!” he shouted and blew his whistle again. “Nice work, everyone besides Phillips!”
Damn, he was really reading me the riot act today.
Unfortunately, I more than deserved his diatribe.
“Hit the showers! And since you all have an off day from practice tomorrow, I expect to hear that every single one of you came in for weights and cardio. That understood?”
“Yes, sir!” everyone, including me, responded in synchrony.
“All right! Hit the showers!”
Most of the team headed toward the inside of the stadium to clean up and get some much-wanted time away from the field.
But I, on the other hand… Well, I wasn’t in any rush to get home to an empty house where my mind could get the best of me and race with ongoing thoughts of a woman who made ending things with me look easy.
I wasn’t proud of it, but I’d spent the better part of last night watching her YouCam vlogs, both the ones that were part of our series and her own personal content that she posted on a daily basis.
It was all pretty fucking sad, to be honest.
And for most of it, I’d been so tempted to text her, call her, do anything just to have some sort of direct contact with her. Fucking anything to hear her sexy, raspy voice speaking directly to me.
Luckily, I’d stayed strong and avoided making a fool of myself by showing her just how pathetic I’d become since she’d dropped me like a bad habit.
I slid my helmet off my head and grabbed a bottle of water from one of the coolers on the sidelines. I chugged it down in practically four hearty gulps and swiped a hand across my face once I finished it off.
“Yo! Phillips!” Cam’s voice filled my ears, and I turned to find him slowly walking off the field. “You okay, bud?”
I shrugged. “Besides playing like shit, I’m good.”
He just grinned. “Yeah, you definitely weren’t on top of your game today, huh?” he questioned, and I shook my head.
“Not in the fucking least,” I muttered, but I didn’t add any fuel to the fire.
Only Quinn knew the truth about my pathetic mood. For all Mitchell could probably surmise, I was just having a few off days. Which, for a lot of ballers in this league, happened from time to time. Generally, not to me, but yeah, other guys had experienced it.
“You know what I think you need?” he said, and his eyes lit up.
“What’s that?”
He grinned like the devil. “A fucking night out.”
A night out? It sure as fuck couldn’t hurt my game at this point. Hell, it might even be good for my mental health.
“Where you heading?”
He shrugged and took a long drink from a cup of red Gatorade. “I was thinking about heading into the city and hitting up one of the bars in SoHo.”
I thought it over for all of thirty seconds. “Count me in.”
Two hours, possibly three hours, into the evening and I was thoroughly buzzed.
Sitting cozy in VIP of whatever the fuck bar Cam had led us to, I sat back and took in the sights while he schmoozed it up with some blonde on the dance floor.
The flashing neon lights, bumping music, and pretty cocktail waitresses striding around the room in negligible black skirts and tank tops served as a nice mental distraction.
Also, alcohol. That was good too.
“Hey there, Sean,” someone purred behind me, her voice just barely rising over the heavy, pounding bass coming from the speakers.
I looked over my shoulder and furrowed my brow as I tried to put a name to this chick’s face. She looked familiar, but my half-buzzed brain might as well have been trying to solve an advanced calculus equation.
She pushed her full, round, very fake tits up and toward my face, smiled, and fluttered her lashes. Apparently, she knew me. Or she wanted to know me.
“Hey,” I responded for lack of anything else to say.
She put a little hand to her hip and narrowed her eyes. “Do you even remember me?”
“Am I supposed to remember you?”
Giggling, she shoved a hand toward my shoulder. “You’re such a dick,” she said. I couldn’t stand the w
ay her voice went nasal at her teasing words. It was nothing like Six’s rasp.
God, stop thinking about Six.
Miniskirt. Half-shirt. This chick’s body was toned and firm and curvy in all the right places, and she wanted everyone in this club to see it. I stared hard, trying to let arousal numb my thoughts.
Too bad your dick couldn’t be any more flaccid at the sight of her…
She walked around the long booth until she stood in front of me, and then, she just up and chose to make herself comfortable in my lap. I flinched as the bones in her ass slammed into my thighs.
“I’m Aria,” she whispered into my ear, and my brow rose to my forehead.
“Aria?” I repeated out loud and racked my brain over the familiarity of her name. “Wait…Aria, the pop singer?” I questioned, and she nodded. “And we’ve met before?”
Because, fuck, I honestly couldn’t remember meeting her.
She giggled. “I swear to God, do you, like, have amnesia or something?”
Apparently, when it came to her, I did.
“We met at the ESPY’s after party last year,” she finally explained, but it still didn’t ring any bells.
I nodded my head anyway. Women never reacted positively to the words I don’t have one fucking clue who you are. “Oh yeah, that’s right.”
Silently, I wondered if our little meet-and-greet had turned into something more physical than just a friendly exchange of words.
Instantly, my chest ached at the thought.
It was weird and so out of character for me.
Normally, I wouldn’t have given a shit about who I’d fucked or who I couldn’t remember fucking or who I’d forgotten about fucking, but now, after Six, it just felt different.
Because it feels wrong.
Fuck, I wanted to hate her for that, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t hate her.
I liked Six too much. Way too fucking much, actually.
You more than like her, you idiot.
My head swam, and the chick in my lap wiggled her ass, which did absolutely nothing for me. It had the exact opposite effect she was probably hoping for. If anything, my dick was half tempted to crawl up inside of my body and hibernate.