by B. B. Hamel
“Again,” he said, tossing me another ball.
We ran that drill for another half hour. Again and again, over and over, I threw the ball to the exact same spot. The whole receiving squad was out there, except for the starter Reggie Crane. He was running his own routes, practicing for his end.
After another few reps, Coach finally nodded at me. “Okay, Evans. You’re good.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Coach.”
“Hit the showers.”
I walked off toward the sidelines. My arm was heavy and a little tired, but it was a good tired.
I never felt better than when I beat my own body up. I loved pushing my limits, finding out how far I could go. I got stronger with ever practice session, and I wanted to keep getting stronger.
“Man, nice throws,” John Drinkwater said, coming up next to me.
“You look good out there, Drinkwater.”
“I’m working on it.” He grinned at me. “Gunning for that first spot.”
Drinkwater was the second wide receiver, behind Reggie.
“Keep it up, man.”
He grinned and then ran off to join the other receivers for the end of their practice. I got to the bench and grabbed a water bottle, squirting it into my mouth. I swished it around in my mouth and then spat it out. I hated when the coaching staff squirted the water into my mouth during games. I felt like a hamster getting fed or something. I looked around the field, surveying the team.
Everyone here gave a shit and worked hard. From the least important guy on up, everyone gave it their best. We were one of the elite teams, one of the most popular football teams in history, and we had a lot of pressure on us. Every year we had to perform, and every year we did our best.
This year was doubly important. Preliminary rankings came out a week ago, and the MD Knights were in the top fifteen in the nation. Some people said that was a low ranking, but I didn’t mind. I wanted them to underestimate me.
They’d see how good we were on game day next Saturday.
As I headed back toward the locker room, I felt someone come up beside me. I glanced over and Hynes grinned back at me, his helmet tucked under his arm, his clothes dirty and sweaty.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Good. Coach had me throwing post reps. Arm feels strong.”
He laughed. “Not that shit. You saw her today, right?”
“Oh. Yeah, I saw her.”
“How was it? You try and put another baby in her?”
I laughed. “That’s not really how that works, Hynes.”
“You think I don’t know that shit, man? You can try anyway. Trying’s the fun part.”
“No, Hynes. We didn’t fuck again.”
“So, what? You just talked?”
“Yeah. We talked about the fucking baby inside her.”
“Your baby,” he reminded me.
I gave him a look as we walked into the locker room. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“No problem, man. Now strip down and get into the shower with me.” He grinned hugely at me.
“Cut that shit out, asshole,” I said, laughing. I went over to my locker and he disappeared a few rows down. I stripped off my dirty clothes, tossing them into the laundry bin, before wrapping a towel around my waist. I went over to the showers and climbed into a stall.
I heard Hynes get into the stall next to me.
“Seriously, man,” he said. “You figure out what you’re going to do yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m not running out on her.”
“Yeah, of course not. You’re not an asshole.”
“Usually. But the problem is, man, I’m broke.”
“No shit. I live with you. I know how broke your dumb ass is.”
“Seriously, man, I need money. I need to be able to help Avery take care of this kid, and I can’t do that without money.”
“Good point. And you can’t exactly get a part-time job.”
“No. I can’t sell autographs, I can’t do shit. I’m fucked, man.”
“Must be hard being so successful.”
I sighed. “Right now, yeah, it is.”
“Why don’t you get one of those loans from the mob? I hear they love giving loans out to desperate athletes like you, and I bet you know a guy.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right, a mob loan. That’s probably not a great idea.”
“Or you could whore yourself out. I bet there are a lot of ladies who want a piece of Gibson Evans out there.”
“I’d rather take the mob money.”
His water stopped and I heard him get out. “Your loss, man. You could get paid to get pussy.”
“I’m not sure it would be as good as you’re making it sound.”
He laughed. “Probably not.” I heard him leave the bathroom and I was left in there alone.
I let the water run down my chest, sighing to myself. My mind wandered back to earlier when I’d had Avery alone in the study room. I loved the way she had looked around with that annoyed expression on her face, and the way she had bitten her lip when I’d talked dirty to her.
I knew she loved hearing it. And truthfully, I wanted to feel her body again. I’d been thinking about it since the second we parted ways, but I had just been too busy with school and football to really pursue it.
Now that she was back in my life, though, maybe now was the time to try to taste her again.
I let the sweat run off my body as my cock got hard just thinking about her. I turned the water off finally when I was finished washing, trying to get her out of my head.
I couldn’t worry about fucking her right now. I had to worry about money.
In that moment, I had an idea. Well, not exactly my idea, but an idea anyway. It was a stupid idea, a desperate idea, but it was all that I had.
Maybe a loan wasn’t such a terrible idea after all. I was going to make a lot of money soon enough, if the scouts could all be trusted. Even if I wasn’t picked high in the draft, I could still make a good living as a backup or even as a third string somewhere.
A damn good living. Definitely good enough to pay back some loans. I was living for free and I had no debt yet.
Maybe this was the time to really grow up. First step in that was taking out a little loan just to get my life started.
Fortunately, I knew just who to call.
6
Avery
I couldn’t stop thinking about Gibson as I went to class later that day. The way he had looked at me in that study room, his mouth parted slightly in a knee-shaking grin, the way his body had leaned toward me, it all drove me absolutely wild. I didn’t want to give him what he wanted, though, even if I wanted the same thing.
He was just so cocky, so privileged. Everything was handed to Gibson Evans, famous college football player. Maybe I was going to have his baby, but he wasn’t going to have me too.
Class dragged by. I could barely listen to the professor as he went over our final projects. We were supposed to think of an experiment we could perform, something to do with the human body, and write a paper on it by the end of the semester. It was way too early to be thinking about that, though. I had more pressing things.
Like Gibson, pressing me up against the base of the statue, his mouth on my neck, his hands down my panties. I’d moan into his kiss as he pressed his fingers deep inside me, sending shivers of pleasure along my spine.
I found myself blushing as I left class. Gibson working my body was on my mind no matter what I did.
Back home, I quickly got into the shower. I had to meet Gibson in an hour, and I hadn’t picked out what I wanted to wear yet.
I felt like I was in and out of my closet maybe fifty times before I finally settled on something simple: a pair of tight black jeans and a tight gray T-shirt. I didn’t know what Gibson thought this was, but I didn’t want him to think I was trying too hard. Still, I wanted to look good.
I finally emerged from my bedroom with fifteen minutes to spare. Harper looked up from the couch.
“I thought you’d never leave,” she said.
“How do I look?”
“Pregnant.” She grinned. “And hot as fuck.”
“Thanks.” I sighed. “It’s weird, but I’m nervous.”
“What’s there to be nervous about? You’re already having his baby.”
I gave her a look while she laughed at her own joke.
“See you later,” I said, and left the apartment.
She had a good point though. I had no reason to be nervous. Whether or not this went well, I was still having Gibson’s baby, and nothing was going to change that. If he was serious about stepping up and being a part of the baby’s life, then he was going to do that no matter what.
I felt a little better as I made my way back to campus, riding my bike. I parked and locked it with just enough time to make it to the statue.
Gibson was leaning up against the stone, his arms crossed, when I approached. He smiled and stood up straight as I walked up to him.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey yourself.” He smirked at me. “You look fucking nice.”
“You look okay yourself.”
He was wearing a pair of jeans and a tight athletic T-shirt that sort of clung to his muscles and made his chest look amazing.
“I always look nice,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He started walking and I had to hurry to catch up. “Where are we going?”
“Dominick’s,” he said. “Ever been?”
“No,” I said honestly. Dom’s was a bar on campus that was pretty strict about carding. By the time it was legal for me to go, I just had no interest in it anymore. The place was usually absolutely mobbed, and there was almost always a line outside waiting to get in.
Tonight was no different. It was too early for peak partying, but Dom’s was still packed. There was a bouncer outside checking IDs as always, and there was a short line of people waiting for the place to clear out.
Gibson didn’t bother getting in line. He walked right up to the bouncer and they shook hands like they were old friends.
“This your girl?” the bouncer asked.
“Avery, this is Jesse,” Gibson said, “best bouncer on campus.”
“Damn right I am.” He laughed. “Go on in. Your table is in the back.”
“Thanks, man.”
Jesse let us both in and I shook my head. “What was that?” I asked him as we stepped inside.
“They know me here,” Gibson said. “They save a table for me every once in a while.”
I went to make a hilarious and biting joke, but the noise inside completely swallowed it up.
Dom’s was packed. Groups of people were all over the place, carrying beers and pitchers from table to table. Music was playing, but I could barely hear it over the low roar of the crowd. The bar itself was dimly lit and more of a dive than anything else. Sports memorabilia from MD’s glory days was plastered all over the walls. Gibson moved confidently through the crowd, and more than a few people called his name as he passed.
I felt so completely out of place. I was used to parties and hanging out, but I wasn’t used to going out with Gibson Evans. Everyone knew him, and we barely got ten feet into the place before some guy stopped him and started talking his ear off.
Gibson had to extract himself from no less than four conversations before we made it to the table. It was a little two-person table in the very back corner of the place with a little “Reserved” sign on it.
We sat down, and the noise wasn’t so bad in the back of the building. Gibson grinned at me.
“So, what do you think?”
I shrugged. “It’s a college bar.”
“Pretty much. Sorry about the crowd back there.”
“It’s okay. You’re kind of famous at this school.”
He shrugged. “Guess so.”
Just then the waitress came over. She was tall, blond, and smiled hugely when she saw Gibson.
“Hey, Gibs!” she said. “How are you?”
“Kelly, hey. I’m good. Can we get a pitcher of Miller and two menus?”
“Of course. Be right back, Gibs!”
She turned and left. I smiled at Gibson. “Gibs?”
“People like to say they know me.”
“She seemed very familiar.”
“Yeah, well, maybe she was once.” He shook his head. “Look, you seem to know a lot about me, but I know nothing about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Where are you from?”
“Philadelphia,” I said. “Well, the suburbs of Philly.”
“What was growing up there like?”
“Good, I guess,” I said. “My parents are nice, super Catholic.”
“You’re Catholic?”
“Sure am. Went to Catholic school all my life.”
“And here you are at MD. I bet your parents are proud.”
“Very proud,” I said, laughing.
“Do they know?”
That stopped my laughter. “No, not yet.”
“Shit. Didn’t mean to bring up something painful.”
“It’s okay. They’re just, you know, really religious. I’m afraid to tell them.”
He nodded. “I get that. I’m sure they’ll be there for you no matter what. They’re your parents.”
“I guess so.”
He smiled as Kelly returned with a pitcher of beer and two menus. She left and Gibson poured himself a glass. He went to pour me one but then stopped himself.
“Fuck,” he said. “You can’t drink this, can you?”
I smiled at him. “Nope. Sure can’t.”
“Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“It’s okay. Have one if you want.”
He made a face and then shook his head. “Nah. No fucking fun when you’re drinking alone.” He poured his beer back into the pitcher. “Hold on.”
I watched as he stood and carried the pitcher over to a group of kids sitting nearby. He said something, and then they laughed and he placed the pitcher on their table. He came back a second later and sat back down.
“There. Problem solved.”
“You just gave it away?”
“Can’t waste good beer.”
I laughed. He seemed to be so easy around people and had no trouble walking up to a table of strangers like that. I had to admit, I envied that skill.
“One time, my dad came home so drunk that he could barely stand,” Gibson said suddenly. “I was maybe ten years old at the time, but I had figured out what being drunk meant long before that. Anyway, this was normal for Dad, you know? So he looks me right in the eye and he says, ‘Son, if you don’t grow up to be rich and famous, you’re dead to me.’ I kid you not; he said that.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you serious? To a ten-year-old?”
“Yep, to a fucking ten-year-old kid.”
“Is that why you’re working so hard at football?”
He grinned. “Maybe. I got into football because I wanted to get out of that shithole of a house. I think being good at it was all luck.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But I bet you work hard.”
“I do work hard,” he admitted. “But in the end, I’m just playing a game, right?”
“People care about it.”
He nodded. “They do. You saw what it was like when I walked in here. But I’ll tell you something: People aren’t that nice when you don’t win.”
I nodded. I’d never thought about that before. On the one hand, he was treated like a king on campus, given everything. But on the other, they expected everything of him, and if he didn’t perform, then they cast him aside.
“Tell me something else about yourself,” he said.
“When I was ten years old, I loved horses.”
He laughed. “Horses?”
“Loved them. I was obsessed. I don’t even know why now. I’ve never ridden a horse before. Probably never will.”
“But you l
oved horses. That’s a common little girl thing.”
“Yeah, maybe. In my mind, there was nothing cooler than horses, though.”
“Wow. That is really cool.”
I laughed. “Shut up. You said you want to get to know me.”
“I do. Tell me something else.”
“I’m a biology major,” I said.
“I am too,” he answered. “But I’m going to school for finance.”
“Very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That was the worst sex joke I’ve ever heard.”
“You’ve definitely heard worse,” he said, grinning.
“But seriously, you’re a finance major?”
“Sure. Accountants make decent money. I figure I need some real skill to fall back on if this football thing doesn’t work out.”
“Huh,” I said, surprised. “I thought you were just a dumb jock.”
He grinned hugely at that. “Oh, I’m still a dumb jock. Don’t get me wrong.”
“You know, I could use a specimen like you.”
“Oh yeah? You can take me into the bathroom and study me right now if you want.”
“Not what I meant.”
“I think it was.” He leaned across the table. “I’d study you in return. I’d love to take copious notes on all the various faces you make as you come nice and hard on my cock.”
I sighed, shaking my head. “No. I mean, I have a project for my advanced-level biology class. I’m supposed to do some kind of research project. I’d love to have an athlete like you to study.”
His grin got wider. “I keep offering to let you study me, and you keep turning me down.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s because I know what you really want.”
“And what do I really want?”
“You want to get me in your truck again,” I said, smiling.
“No, not my truck. Been there, done that. I was thinking someplace more exotic.”
“Like where?”
“Maybe the showers near the practice field,” he mused.
“Are you kidding? Dirty athlete showers?”
“What? Isn’t it every woman’s fantasy to get fucked by a big strapping athlete in the men’s locker room?”