“Surely not.” She took a final sip of her drink and set it back down.
“Then what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to find the one?”
“First of all, don’t make it any sort of contest at all. Let things happen. Get to know someone without hitting on her. And if you do go out with someone, wait to see if there’s a lasting connection before you jump into intimacy. When there’s not a connection, be honest without being hurtful. And whatever you do, definitely do not ever, under any circumstances, take a naked photo of the woman you just slept with and share it.”
“Okay, I think I get it.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Basically, everyone has to do life exactly your way. I’m wrong if I happen to move into the intimate side of things too fast. I’m wrong if I try to get to know a woman in a way she perceives as me hitting on her. I have to sit around and wait for a woman to make the first move, except that women say they want the man to. According to you, there’s really nothing I can do at all unless I have permission from someone like you to do it.”
Brooklyn let out a long breath. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Sure sounds like it to me. If I can, for one moment… I know you came here to tell me what’s wrong with me, but can I just say that you seem to have this control thing happening where if people don’t do exactly what you want, they’re wrong and you flip out. You warned all your ladies to stay away from me, yet I’m sure having free will is important to you. So, you want them to both have their free will and to use it to do what you want them to do. You can’t have it both ways.”
She took a few deep breaths. “I am in a position of leadership. It’s my job to look out for my ladies, to steer them away from dangers where I can.”
“Like a mother. Except these are grown women that you’re treating like children. If a man were doing that, you’d be having a fit. So why are you allowed to control them? Why is that okay?”
“It’s not, and that’s not what I’m doing. I’m not controlling them, I warned them.”
“So, you didn’t tell them not to date during the season and especially not to date football players?”
“I strongly suggested it to avoid the crap that’s now happened. But it’s not like they’d get kicked off the squad if they did.”
“Annabelle seemed to think she would. The way she described it, you were like the mommy cheerleader and they all better listen or else.”
She gritted her teeth and mumbled under her breath, “Annabelle.”
“I guess Annabelle just knows what she wants, and it’s not what you want, and that makes you feel threatened. I get it. I used to have control issues, but I got over it.”
“I do not have control issues.”
“I find that hard to believe. Prove it.”
“How?”
He thought for a moment. “Try it someone else’s way. Come back to my house and have a more intimate conversation with me. Let me get to know the real you a little bit. And if you want to sleep with me, I won’t let you.”
“This is just another one of your tricks to try to get in my pants. I know how this works. I’m not falling for it.”
He shook his head. “This is why you have trust issues. I told you that I am not going to sleep with you, even if you ask me to. And you just can’t believe me. You think you’re so irresistible that everyone has nothing better to do than try to get in your pants. Awfully prideful.”
Brooklyn ground her teeth together, staring at him. After a long while, she said, “Okay, fine. We’ll go back to your place. And when you prove me right, you agree to stay away from my ladies and not to contact them in any way or send them things. Deal?”
“Deal. And when I prove you wrong and don’t hit on you? Then what?”
“Then I might not hate you.”
He stood and held out a hand to her. “Then, by all means, let’s let the double standards continue. Shall we?”
She ignored his hand and stood. “I’ll follow you.”
“I’d have it no other way.”
Chapter 20
In the quiet of his car, his mind whirled. What the hell was that conversation? Half the time, he had no idea what he was even saying. Most of it sounded good, and he’d gotten his point across, he thought. If only all of it were true.
It’d be nice to think he had better motives for what he’d done. But, he had to admit she had him figured out. She was right. He had feelings for those girls, sure, but those feelings mostly involved wanting to know what it was like to sleep with them, and wanting to get ahead in the contest. He knew what to say to get women to respond, but he’d never been in a situation where he’d actually felt those things. He had never been in love and he doubted at this point that he ever would. And he didn’t even know for sure that love really existed. It was just a matter of someone telling you what you wanted to hear and getting a warm feeling from it, but no one really ever meant those things.
He pulled up to his house, Brooklyn still behind him. She hadn’t driven off, which he half expected. And he’d decided he would be true to his word. He would not sleep with her no matter what. If she threw herself on him, he wouldn’t, just to prove her wrong.
He waited for her on the doorstep then unlocked the door and held it open for her to walk inside.
“Nice place,” she said.
“Needs a woman’s touch.”
“A bit.”
He led her to the living room. “Want to have a seat here?”
“I guess.”
“Something to drink? Coffee, water?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s evening now. You don’t drink in the evenings on your day off?”
“I didn’t want my offer of alcohol to come off as a ploy to get you drunk. I do have wine and alcohol, though, and if that’s what you’d like, I’d be happy to get you some.”
“I think we could both use a glass of wine.”
“Red or white?” He wasn’t taking chances making a decision for her.
“White if it’s chilled.”
He nodded and went off to the kitchen to pour their glasses. He returned with them and she took a small sip.
“Good stuff. You wouldn’t happen to have a Motrin, would you? I have a little headache.”
“Sure.” Probably wasn’t the best to take it with wine, but he didn’t dare say that. He might be trying to tell her what to do. Or was this a test?
He got the bottle and brought it to her. “Looks like the label says not to take it with alcohol, but it’s your body.” He handed her the pills and she poured two out.
“I’m sure two with a glass of wine is fine.”
“If you’re fine with it, I am. I just wanted you to have all the information so you could make a properly informed decision.” He almost laughed. Where was he getting this stuff? He took a long sip of wine, letting the cool liquid run down his throat. Would she loosen up at all after drinking this? If she would talk to him for real, maybe they could get somewhere. But she had to lower her walls first, and they seemed several feet thick at the moment.
He set down his glass. His head was spinning a little. He hadn’t eaten much all day, and then he’d had that coffee with all the caffeine. He needed to get some food. “Want to order something? I’m getting hungry. Are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Alright. Do you mind if I get a snack then?”
“Not at all.”
He got up and headed to the kitchen for some fruit or something. Hopefully, she’d be hungry soon and they could order some real food. As he bent down to get an apple from the fridge, his head spun more and he stumbled. What the heck? He hadn’t drunk that much wine. Like half a glass. He wasn’t that much of a lightweight, even if he hadn’t eaten all day.
He stood back up and steadied himself by holding the counter. The room was full-on spinning now, and he broke into sweats. Was he getting sick? Had some virus taken over him suddenly? He slid to the floor of the kitche
n, breathing heavily, and trying to settle his brain. Was he dying? Was this what a heart attack felt like? No, that was ridiculous. He couldn’t be having a heart attack. He was in top shape and far too young. Yet, what if something like that was going on?
He felt his heart rate spike, which made his ears start to ring. Black spotted his vision. He called out her name, hoping she’d at least have enough compassion for him to call an ambulance.
Chapter 21
When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the headache. It was a hard pounding at his temples, like something in his head was trying to break free. He was overcome with a wave of nausea and threw up all over himself. He sat up slowly. Where was he?
He looked down at his puke-covered stomach. His bare stomach. His pants were around his ankles with his boxers, and his dick hung limp, half stuck to his leg. His butt had fallen asleep and felt cold. He pushed himself up and realized he was in his bathroom. He was on the cold tile floor beside the tub, sprawled out. What the hell?
He tried to think to the day before. He’d had coffee with Brooklyn and then they’d come back here to talk. They’d had wine. He recalled the moment in the kitchen. He hadn’t drunk much. She hadn’t called an ambulance.
He managed to pull himself up, using his elbow on the counter. He half stood and rinsed out his mouth. He looked in the mirror, and his blood ran cold.
His face was covered in Sharpie marker drawings. There was fake clown makeup and around his neck was a slash mark and text that said, “I deserve to be dead.” Balls were drawn under his nose and there was an arrow pointing to his mouth that said, “Insert cock here.”
He stared at it all for a long while. Hot shame washed over him. And then he figured out what must have happened. Brooklyn had drugged him. Was there a moment he’d left his drink alone with her? Yes. She’d asked for Motrin. He’d left and come back and drunk the wine and then started to react. He called for her, and she must’ve done this once he passed out. He was drugged.
He got the shower started, as hot as it would go, and then stepped in. The hot water was not enough to make him warm again. He wondered if it was the after effects of the drugs. He thought about going to the hospital to make sure he was really okay and didn’t need to do anything. But then he thought about explaining to them that a woman had drugged him and drawn on him. No way. The pain in his stomach grew and spread, making the cold more intense.
He scrubbed his face as hard as he could, but when he got out, there were still traces of what she’d written. He stared at the line around his neck. She thought he should be dead? What had he done that was so bad? His throat thickened, and he swallowed hard, but he could only fight it for so long. Tears welled in his eyes.
He blinked them away. This was stupid. There was one way that he always used to burn off steam. Shifting. He carefully walked downstairs and out onto his back porch and shifted. He felt better after a few minutes, and he spent an hour running around. When he started to feel warm again, he went home. He took another shower then didn’t know what to do with himself.
He stared in the mirror for a while, then curled up on the coach and watched TV for the rest of the night.
Chapter 22
When Dustin walked in the training facility for practice, he still wasn’t feeling 100%, but he was much better. The effects of whatever she’d given him must’ve worn off, and he’d been able to eat without throwing up last night. He still felt a bit tired and groggy and hoped it wouldn’t affect his performance today. He had to keep his mind on other things so that he didn’t keep reliving that night and morning over and over and feeling the shame of it all.
He pushed open the door to the locker room, and when one of his teammates saw him, he let out a holler.
“He’s here!” he called out.
Soon, several members of the team surrounded him, laughing and shouting. It took a moment for him to sort out what they were saying.
“Man, you must’ve gotten shit-faced good!” Alex said, with a clap on his shoulder.
“Seriously,” Tom said, “What in the world did you do to piss that chick off?”
“Guess the date didn’t go too well?” Hayden asked.
“What are you all talking about?” Dustin asked.
Ben held up a large color photo and shoved it at him. “They’re all over the training facility.”
Dustin held the photo in shaking hands and looked it over. It was him, sprawled out on his bathroom floor, mostly naked. The Sharpie drawings looked fresh all over his face, and his hands were positioned in a way that one thumb was in his mouth and the other hand gripped his dick. At the top of the photo, someone had written on the print, “Dustin Perry, MVP - Most Vile Prick.”
“Brooklyn did this?” He looked from player to player, hoping his voice didn’t sound as weak to them as it did to him.
“I’d guess it was her,” Alex said. “What happened the other night?”
Dustin pushed through the small crowd and stormed his way toward his locker. As he passed the rows, he tore down every poster he came across. She must’ve printed a ton of them.
He threw down his bag but then made his rounds through the whole locker room, taking down every poster he could find. He returned to his things and shoved the fistful of posters into his locker. Hayden walked into the row a moment later.
“They’re all over the building,” Hayden said.
“Great.” Dustin narrowed his eyes and pulled out his uniform.
“So… you try to hit on her or what, man?”
“No, I was a total gentleman. She’s a crazy bitch.” His fist balled up, and he reached for his phone. He was going to let her have it.
“Well, Coach is looking for you.”
He dropped his phone. “Why?”
“He saw the posters.”
Great. After all this bull and all the crap she’d already said to Coach about him, now this. He was going to get reamed out big time. How could she do this to him?
Alex came laughing into the row. “Man, you must’ve pissed her off good. Can’t believe she went there.”
“Yeah, it’s hilarious,” Dustin said.
“Aww, man, don’t worry about it,” Alex said. “It’s funny. The guys all got a good laugh in this morning as we got here. Fun way to start off the week.”
“Wasn’t too fun for me.” He yanked off one sneaker and then the other. “My head is still messed up from it.”
“How much did you drink?” Alex asked.
“About half a glass of wine. That bitch drugged me.”
Hayden and Alex exchanged looks then burst out laughing.
“She drugged you?” Alex asked. “No way!”
“She has some balls, that one,” Hayden said.
“Did she date rape you, too?” Alex asked.
“No,” Dustin said and slammed his locker.
“Too bad,” Alex said. “At least she could have done you the favor of getting you off if she was going to do all this.”
“I’m sure it’ll all blow over soon,” Hayden said.
“Right. If Coach doesn’t kick my butt over it,” Dustin said.
“He’ll probably get a good laugh out of it and tell you that you got what you deserved,” Hayden said.
“Perry!” Coach’s voice boomed through the locker room.
“Guess I’m about to find out.” Dustin pulled up his pants as Coach stormed around the corner.
“My office. Now.” He disappeared just as quickly as he’d appeared.
Dustin looked over at Hayden. “Doesn’t look like he’s getting a good laugh out of it.”
“Good luck, man,” Alex said.
“Thanks,” Dustin mumbled as he walked away and entered Coach’s office. He sat across from Coach and swallowed hard.
“You want to explain this?” Coach slammed one of the posters down on the desk.
Dustin took a deep breath. “That cheerleader, Brooklyn, did this. She drugged me and did this.”
Coach sat back a
nd crossed his arms. “You want me to believe that you were an innocent victim here? After the whole scandal we’ve already faced with you and those cheerleaders?”
“It’s true. I met Brooklyn for coffee to try to resolve our issues. She came back to my place to talk more, and that’s when she drugged me and did this. I should press charges.”
“I think, given the trouble you’ve already gotten yourself into with those girls, you’d better stay far away from all of them. In fact, I’m going to make sure of it. As of right now, you’re on probation. One more slip-up like this with those cheerleaders, and you’re out. Got it?”
“But Coach—”
“I don’t want your excuses. And I don’t want to hear any more about you and those girls.”
“Yes sir,” Dustin grumbled.
“And I expect that you will not let this affect your game.”
“It won’t.”
When Dustin got out on the field, he found it difficult to keep that promise. The guys kept pointing and snickering at him, and when he made the mistake of looking over at the girls’ practice, he found them shooting daggers at him. Brooklyn looked over once and gave him a triumphant smile. The whole practice, he was off. His mind wandered, and he missed plays. He wasn’t paying attention, and it was a terrible practice.
When the team hit the locker room later that day, Dustin felt embarrassed and pissed off. He wasn’t sure if he was angrier at himself for letting this all happen or at Brooklyn for what she did, but either way, he was ready to tear someone apart.
Hayden, too, was slamming his locker and throwing his things around, looking upset.
“What’s up, man?” Dustin asked him.
Dustin (Shifter Football League Book 3) Page 10