As the team starts to run in, he doesn’t move. Rhodes suddenly pounces on his back, flashing his green mohawk. Brooks knocks him off and they head toward the tunnel. I can’t help it, but I have to look down. As I do, our eyes lock. He’s looking at me too. My heart begins pounding inside my chest and I’m pretty sure everyone around me can hear it. His eyes, although the color of bluest glacier, light my soul on fire.
The music starts pumping as the team leaves the field. I return to reality and Blaire, Watts, Duncan and I start shaking our asses to it. Have I mentioned I fucking love game day?
“And YOU! Shook me all night long!” we sing along. “Yeah, yeah, you! Shook me all night long!”
Then we feel it. The team beneath us in the tunnel. The music fades out and the crowd starts to cheer, “Whose house?” “Our house!” Everyone in the student section interlocks their arms and we start swaying back and forth. Soon, Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust” starts booming and the boys sprint onto the field below us, led by Coach Hayes. My whole body has chills.
Halfway through the second quarter is it obvious that William & Mary came to play today. They are stuffing Rhodes at the line of scrimmage on almost every one of his run attempts. They have a huge defensive line for such a small school, and they’re overpowering our offensive line every play. Rhodes can’t find an opening. We need to start airing it out.
Coach Hayes must have read my mind, because the next four plays are passes. The last play, Brooks starts in the shotgun, avoiding the defensive end from William & Mary who torched our tackle. He resets his feet and completes a 33-yard pass to Bateman, who scrambles ten more yards for a touchdown. The stadium erupts and “Takin’ Care of Business” blasts through the speakers. I can feel the electricity flowing through my veins. Brooks sprints to the end zone and jumps into Bateman’s arms. Each game day, the boys prepare a new touchdown celebration. The touchdown celebration today is the “Bye, Bye, Bye” dance, made famous by N’Sync. Brooks, Bateman, Rhodes, wide receiver Rashad Jennings, and tight end Julian Moore play the parts of Justin, JC, Joey, Lance, and Chris. Brooks has some rhythm, and it is damn sexy. He is definitely the Justin of the group.
After that, the Golden Knights never look back. They beat William & Mary convincingly, 35-6. Brooks has a monster game, and I hope he’s proud of himself. He threw for four touchdowns, two of which went to Bateman, one to Jennings, and the other to Moore, plus ran one in on a seven-yard scramble. He was 35-38 on passing attempts, which is phenomenal at this level. He was their entire offense today. He has the “it factor” on and off the field.
Chapter 4: Brooks
“That game was fucking amazing! WOO!” I shout as we roll out of the locker room. Coach was pumped, and gave us all a verbal pat on the back. He gave me the game ball because I had a career day, passing for 434 yards and four touchdowns. Nothing to this point in my life gets me higher than playing football.
“The way you were acting this morning, I didn’t think you had the balls to pull off that kind of game,” Bateman says as we walk together from the locker room.
I raise my middle finger to him. “You had a career game because of me, so you should be sucking my dick right now, not giving me shit.”
“Oh yes, my captain. Thank you for leading us to the promised land,” he says sarcastically and leans his head down to my crotch and feigns sucking my cock.
“Who’s ready to get fucked up? Yup, I am getting fucked up tonight, boys.” Rhodes cuts in between Bateman and I and wraps his arms around our shoulders. “Stop sucking each other off and let’s fucking get it!”
We all start to laugh and continue to bask in the domination that occurred less than an hour ago.
As we begin filing out of the stadium, there are still hundreds of fans lining the path from the locker room entrance to the parking lot. We are greeted with the loudest cheers as we pass by, slapping high fives on each side along the way. I see my dad. Fuck me.
Per the usual, Rhett “The Threat” McCarthy is waiting for me in the parking lot. He never misses a game, or the opportunity to give me unwanted feedback on my performance. I know he means well and he’s preparing me for the NFL, but just once I’d love for him to not over-analyze my game and just enjoy it.
Rhett earned his nickname as a wide receiver for Louisiana State University, where he was the flashiest wide receiver on the team. He was also the fastest and had the best hands, so he could walk the walk while talking the talk. He was drafted in the first round by the Minnesota Vikings, and retired after a stellar thirteen-year career. He’ll be a Hall of Fame candidate one day, most likely in the next few years, as some of his former colleagues are starting to be inducted.
He played his whole career in Minnesota, so I grew up in Edina. Edina is the hockey capital of the world, but I put their football team on the map. Rhett had to have a son who was an NFLer. My brothers played football, but none of them are as good as I am. I am his “pride and joy,” which comes with a truckload of pressure. If I fail, Rhett fails.
Rhett is tall, covered in lean muscle, and still in dynamite shape for being in his 50’s. I look a lot like him, although I’m a few inches taller. He has sandy blond hair, chiseled facial features and striking blue eyes. I can feel those icy blue eyes staring me down as I walk toward him, and I’m mentally preparing for his critique of my performance today. Even though I had a monster game, there’s always something I could have done better and he will pick it apart.
“How do you think that went?” he asks curtly. Not even a hello first.
“Pretty damn good. We kicked their asses and I had a career day,” I say, trying to sound confident and proud.
“Well, it was William & Mary. The cheerleading squad has better athletes than their football team.”
“I know, Dad.” I just agree so we can move on. Because it had nothing to do with us or how good we are. William & Mary just sucks.
“In the first quarter, when Rhodes couldn’t get a block. Why didn’t you check it down to Decker instead of handing it off?”
“I don’t know. It looked like Madigan and Roberts had their lane sealed, but apparently they didn’t.”
“No shit. Rhodes was hit for a four-yard loss on that one.”
“Where’s Mom?” I ask, trying to change the subject. If he’s starting in the first quarter with my mental mistakes, we could be here all night. I’ve learned by now not to spout my stats off to him in rebuttal. It just makes things worse.
“She’s hammered. I took her to the car,” he says plainly, as if all mothers of star quarterbacks can’t stay sober while they watch their son play. Rhea Winthrop was Miss South Carolina, and she was a southern belle stunner. Blond, thin, blue eyes, tan. She comes from a wealthy family, so she dressed the part too. She never went out unless she was covered in jewelry and wearing a fancy hat. She met my dad in college and locked down the infamous Rhett McCarthy. Rhett was very controlling, so she became the typical football wife. She cared for me and my brothers while Rhett was off dazzling fans throughout the NFL. She shopped, she brunched, she vacationed in the Hamptons. She was obviously very, very bored. After we grew up and she didn’t have anyone to cart around to practice, she tried to numb the boredom with alcohol, which is still a problem. She can’t stop now.
“Typical. Tell her I say hi. Next time we’ll put up 60. See ya later, Pops,” I say as I walk off toward Blake’s truck. I’m not going to see my mom. I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen her drunk, but I know I don’t like her when she’s like that, and I sure as shit don’t want my friends to see her that way. The thought makes me sad.
Back at our apartment, I grab a beer from the fridge and plop down on the couch. It’s time to forget about Rhett and Rhea. I need to let loose and enjoy this win with my boys. We never have practice on Sundays because Coach thinks our bodies need rest, so we hit it hard on Saturdays. Rhodes, Blake and I start a game of Madden.
Bateman is taking another shower to get his nuts good and clean for
Blaire, even though we all showered in the locker room. “You must have had some stanky swass today if you’re showering again!” I shout at him. Swass is a word we made up that combines sweat and ass. We also occasionally use swalls, swick, and swack to discuss the sweaty state of our manhood during practices and games.
“Fuck off, Mac!” he shouts back before I hear the door close.
I want to ask him more questions about Kiernan, but I can’t. He’ll think I’ve gone insane. I need to get laid. I’m losing my fucking mind. I can get laid anytime I want – I shouldn’t be sitting here pining after one chick who blew me off.
I hear the shower turn off, and I tell Blake and Rhodes I’m done playing so I can get dressed. Instead, I go to Bateman’s room. I just walk in. We’ve seen each other’s dicks plenty of times in the locker room, so it doesn’t bother us. “Dude, question for you.”
“Hit me,” he replies, still in his towel and totally unfazed by the fact I didn’t knock.
“I saw your girl today at the game. Why doesn’t she come over here more?” If she came over here more, maybe she could bring Kiernan with her.
“I don’t know. She likes her own bed I guess, and their place smells better. She says this place smells like sluts and desperation. I blame Rhodes for that though.” He shrugs.
“What about her friends? I didn’t know the other two with her today. They’ve never come over here with her.”
“Well you know, Kiernan. The other two are Tori and Mary. Watts and Duncan. They play softball too,” he says as he sticks a Q-Tip in his ear and twists it around. “They’ve been roommates since they were freshmen. Those four are as close as we are dude. Inseparable. Why are you asking me about B coming to hang out? Stay away from her dude. You can have any other chick on campus.”
“I’m not making a play at your girlfriend, dumbass,” I reply, trying my damnedest to sound casual about this whole thing and not make it obvious that I’m talking about Kiernan at the same time. I need to know if Kiernan will be at the Pi Kappa party tonight. “Are B and her girls coming to the PiKap’s party tonight?”
“Yeah, I’m gonna ride over with you guys, so I can go home with her again. She’s gonna meet me there. Cool?”
“Sure, man. That’s no problem. I’m up for DD tonight.”
I decide to shower again to kill some time. After, I towel off and throw on my dark skinny jeans, a tight black t-shirt that hugs my biceps and chest, and my Cole Haan Oxford shoes. I run my fingers through my hair for that trying-but-not-trying look and spray on some Burberry cologne. I look good. I guarantee the ladies’ panties won’t be dry tonight when I walk in, but I don’t even care. On a night like tonight I would usually have a few drinks, come back here with my drunk-ass roommates, along with a few hot chicks, and we would each end our night blowing our load with one lucky lady, or in Rhodes’ case, two or three lucky ladies. Not tonight. Tonight, I plan to work on Kiernan. I volunteered to be the designated driver so I had an excuse not to drink. I want to make sure I stay sober enough to talk to her intelligently. Plus, if she agrees to come home with me I want to remember it.
“Five minutes, bitches!” Bateman shouts. Thirty minutes later, because we love to piss the lovesick puppy off by being late, we all pile into my truck and head over to the Pi Kappa house.
Chapter 5: Kiernan
I’m laying in my favorite spot on the couch, watching SportsCenter while my roomies finish getting ready. Watts is the first to come out. She is literally sparkling in a black sequin mini-skirt, red halter and red stilettos. She is going to make some heads turn and some zippers bulge. Duncan is a little more modest, but she has on skinny jeans that accentuate her thickness, a tight tank top with silver sequins, and black heels. She’s already so tall that in heels I barely come up to her shoulder. Blaire, the only one in a committed relationship, still takes the longest to get ready for some reason. It’s a guarantee that she will get laid tonight if she wants it, so I don’t know why this is such a process. She is wearing a tight lime-green halter dress with her long, blond curls flowing down her back. Her black stilettos are unnecessary due to her already-towering height, but they make her long, thin legs look amazing.
I roll off the couch. I am wearing black jogger style sweatpants that say “Golden Knights” across the ass and a black spaghetti strap tank top. My hair is still wet and piled on top of my head in a messy bun. Black flip flops complete my look. I’m ready.
“KK, seriously?” Watts stares at me with that “get something sexier on or you’ll be a lonely, old cat lady” look.
“What? I want to be comfortable and heels kill my feet. There is no worse torture for a female than cramming our feet into those.” I motion toward Watts’ feet.
“You’re gonna be alone forever, you know that, right?” Watts says dryly.
“No, she won’t,” Duncan retorts. “She could wear a fucking paper sack to this party and all the jocks would still try to tap the untappable Ms. Kiernan Kelly.” I’m not sure if Duncan just threw shade my way or if she’s trying to tell me I look hot in anything I wear. I’m going with the latter so I don’t get pissed at her. She’s been drunk since two this afternoon. Her words aren’t her own anymore.
I roll my eyes at her. “Don’t be a dick, Duncan,” I say. “You could be comfortable too, instead you have a thong shoved so far up your ass you could start flossing.” I mimic flossing my teeth.
Everyone busts out laughing. “Let’s go,” Blaire says. She usually drives to the party because Bateman will be riding home with us.
The Pi Kappa house is a short drive from campus. We pull onto Greek row, which is a street lined with large oak trees and enormous houses that were owned by the richest families in Woodbury decades ago. Cambria University bought several houses on both sides of the street and rented the houses out to the sororities and fraternities.
As we near the house, there are cars everywhere. Other frats and sororities are having parties tonight too. We have to walk a couple blocks, but I’m comfortable in my flip-flops, while my roommates are struggling to walk through the grass in their stilettos.
The Pi Kappa house is massive. It’s a two-story Victorian that’s home to 22 frat brothers. The facade is off-white brick with black trim, and there’s a huge wraparound porch with a black railing. Enormous Greek letters are hung from the second-floor balcony. Inside, the woodwork is all dark, including the hardwood floors, which are sticky from the amount of alcohol that has been spilled on them over the years. Once inside, the heat of the party hits me. The smell of sweat and beer fills the air. The music is so loud in the basement that I can feel the bass pumping in my chest.
The main floor has several rooms that people hang out in, the basement is cleared out for the dance floor, and upstairs is where most of the frat brothers’ bedrooms are located. By the time we arrive, some people have pulled couches and chairs together in what should be a nice living room. It has a beautiful white marble fireplace along one wall. The kitchen is large, with a huge center island. The cabinets are white and the countertops are black granite. It’s way too nice for a frat house. Case in point, the island is currently host to a large bowl full of spiked punch while two kegs are tucked into a corner. What should be a fine dining room holds two ping pong tables. That is where I will be parked for most of the night. Beer and competition are two of my favorite party favors.
I turned around to see my girls all shape their hands like they’re holding a cup and pretend to bring it up to their mouths. Yes, I agree. Let’s get a drink.
We wind our way through a crowd of bodies, most of which stop to say hi or at least wave toward us as we move. We walk past a guy talking to a girl in a tight black spandex dress, and when he diverts his attention to say hi to us, I can literally feel the glare from her eyes piercing my soul. I should just wear a sign that reads “I’m not interested in your boyfriend.” We weave our way through so many short skirts, mini dresses, and skin-tight tanks. If I were a guy my head would spin with all the a
ss and cleavage in this house. I clearly don’t fit in, but I don’t really care. My superpower is flying under the radar.
In the kitchen, Blaire settles on a rum and coke, which she mixes in the butler pantry, Watts and Duncan hit the punch, and I grab a beer. “I’m going to see if Tanner is here yet,” she announces. That took all of five minutes. I pretend to check my watch and shake my head at her.
“Whatever. Like you give a shit. You’ll be playing beer pong all night anyway.”
I laugh and roll my eyes, but I know she’s right.
Watts and Duncan decide to hit the dance floor. “Come on, KK!” they both plead with me.
“Nah, I’m good. It’s too early, too hot, and I’m not drunk enough,” I reply.
“Boo. You suck,” Watts pouts.
“It wouldn’t be too hot if you had on less clothes,” Duncan says as she moves her eyes up and down my body, judging my outfit.
“Go dance,” I say and nod my head toward the stairs.
I head back to the front room where the beer pong tables are. I can usually find Finn, Stoner, and some other baseball players over there. I am really fucking good at beer pong, so they all usually fight over who gets to be my partner. It’s pretty entertaining.
“Hey, boys!” I shout as I enter the living room and give a grand bow.
“DIBS!” Stoner shouts.
“No fucking way! You got her last time,” Finn starts to argue.
Stoner is standing next to the table. It looks like he was about to start a game with a freshman. the same kid that Finn spilled on earlier today. Stoner grabs him by the shirt sleeve and shoves him away from the table. “You’re my partner, Kelly!” he shouts. Poor kid. He looks sad at being dismissed so easily.
Exception (Cambria University Series Book 1) Page 5