“Technically, I’m ruled by hormones.”
She laughs, low and husky. And despite the fact that it’s colder than a witch’s tit, my cock stirs.
“Now, if we’re agreed,” I say, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her down the stone steps. “I suggest we head back to your place for an orgasm or five before we have to leave for Rutgers.”
“Deal.” She reaches across her body, offering me her right hand. I shake it. “May the best candidate win.”
36
PARKER
My parentsgawk at the stadium tunnel in awe as we line up for the Senior Day program. It’s a cold, crisp day, and despite the threat of snow, the sun is shining. From the looks of it, all of Wildcat Nation has descended on College Park, ready to cheer us to victory. The stadium is vibrating with excitement—literally, the cement tunnel is damn near shaking—as the fans stomp their feet, performing a spirited cheer.
With last week’s win over Rutgers, we’re heading into our last game of the regular season with a 10-1 record.
Soon to be 11-1.
If things go our way today, we advance to the Big Ten Football Championship game.
But first, the Senior Day presentation.
Despite the chill, sweat builds around the collar of my jersey, a byproduct of nerves and adrenaline. I’m game ready in cleats and pads while my parents are wearing their Sunday best. It makes for an odd combination. One that’s repeated throughout the players’ tunnel as the seniors on the team line up with their loved ones.
It’s a big day.
Not only because it’s the last time most of these guys will play ball in Wildcat stadium, but because it’s an opportunity to recognize the people in our lives who’ve provided endless love and support over the years. It would be easy to claim each of us got here on our own talent, but it wouldn’t be true. Few of us would’ve made it this far if the people who believed in our potential hadn’t sacrificed nights and weekends driving us to practices. If they hadn’t cheered us on at every game and tournament. Invested in summer camps and developmental coaching.
For me, those people were my parents.
Pride shines in their eyes and, despite some earlier drama at the football building, spirits are high. Mom and Dad enjoyed meeting the other parents. No surprise there. Mom’s always been a social butterfly. And my dad? Well, he may be an introvert, but it’s safe to say he was starstruck by Reid’s father, a future Hall of Famer.
Hell, I think he’s still riding high, a goofy-ass grin on his face as he turns to me.
“When you started playing ball, I never imagined we’d one day be exiting the Wildcat tunnel together.” Tears glisten in his eyes as he rests a hand on my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, son.”
“We both are.” On my other side, Mom grabs my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You’ve worked so hard to get here.”
She doesn’t say it, but I know she’s not talking about my dedication on the field, but in the classroom. My academic career may have started off lackluster, but I’ll be damned if it ends that way.
I grin. “You’re making it sound like I’ve already peaked.”
“Let’s hope that’s not the case.” She hooks her arm through mine, looking up at me with a mischievous glint in her hazel eyes. “Which reminds me, do you think Coach Collins will let us take part again next year since you’re going to be a super senior? It’s not every day a couple of small-town yahoos like your father and I get to take the field before such a large crowd.”
I snort and shake my head. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”
Then again, who knows?
For all his bluster, Coach is a softy. If he knew my mom wanted to participate in Senior Day again next year, he’d probably make it happen.
“Are you ready for your Sports Stream interview?” Dad asks.
“As ready as I can be.”
I have no clue what to expect. Sure, Mac gave us parameters, but who knows what kind of aptitude test they’re going to spring on us?
My father breathes into his hands, attempting to warm them. “Have you been preparing? Answering practice questions online? Created a résumé?”
He fires the questions off so quickly, they’re impossible to answer.
