Okay, fine. She may have slipped into my thoughts when I was jerking off in the shower Friday night, but it was one time.
One fantastic fucking time.
Whatever. It won’t happen again.
I’m focused now. I have to be. The life of a D1 athlete is grueling under the best of circumstances and my circumstances? Far from ideal. Especially since reading assignments—of which there’s no shortage—take me twice as long as they should.
Vaughn and I head straight for our lockers and begin stripping. I’m down to my skivvies when Coop joins us.
“Monday can kiss my ass,” I grumble, tossing my shorts into the bottom of my locker.
The surrounding guys make noises of assent and I realize Vaughn is almost done dressing. The fuck? Either he set a new world record for speed or I’m even more tired than I thought.
Get it the fuck together, Parker.
Dragging ass on the field is a surefire way to find yourself running wind sprints until you drop.
“Where’s Reid?” I ask. It’s almost time to hit the field and our captain is glaringly absent.
Coop flexes his biceps, eyes glued to the mirror inside his locker. “No clue. It wasn’t my turn to babysit him.”
Just then, Reid turns the corner, making his way down the aisle. He looks like something the cat dragged in, but no one comments on it as he opens his locker and discards his stuff. The guy carries the weight of this team and some damn crushing expectations on his shoulders. He’s bound to look like ass once in a while, and I doubt he’d welcome anyone pointing it out.
“Never have I ever seen a bigger douche,” Vaughn says, slapping Coop on the back before he slams the door to his locker and tucks his helmet under his arm. “Don’t you ever get tired of admiring yourself?”
“Hell no.” A slow grin spreads across Coop’s face. “Word of advice: you’re going to have a hard time getting laid with that ugly-ass beard of yours.”
Vaughn looks genuinely puzzled as his gaze shifts from Coop to Reid and back again. “What’s wrong with my beard?”
“Aside from the fact that it needs its own zip code?” Reid asks with the hint of a smile.
“Seriously, bro. Just because you’re from West Virginia doesn’t mean you have to look like a mountain man.” Coop shakes his head. “You think a girl wants all that,” he says, gesturing to Vaughn’s overgrown beard, “scratching her special place while you’re going down on her?” The air quotes he makes when he says special place send the guys around us into peals of laughter.
Vaughn’s cheeks turn blood-red above the dark scruff. “Fuck off.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Coop shouts as Vaughn retreats down the aisle, giving us the one-finger salute.
Coop’s on a mission to loosen Vaughn up, but, from what I can tell, it’s not working.
Still, it provides endless hours of entertainment and it’s all in good fun. After three years of playing together, these guys are like my brothers. I can’t think of anything worse than letting them down. Which is why I’m going to savor the shit out of our last season together and work my ass off to help deliver a national title.
“So, I hear special teams is practicing on the field with us today,” Coop says, closing his locker and turning to our team captain.
Reid’s face is carefully neutral. “So?”
“So, that means we’ll get to see Carter in action.” He grins and wiggles his brows. “I hope she’s wearing shorts today.”
“Don’t be an asshole.” Reid glares up at him and peels off his shirt, tossing it in the locker. “It’s one hundred fucking degrees outside. Of course she’ll be wearing shorts. And no one’s going to say shit, got it?”
“That’s what I thought.” Coop smirks. “The lady doth protest too much.”
“As usual, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Reid says.
“Riiiiigght.”
I adjust my jockstrap and step into my pants. Coop’s way off base if he thinks Reid is lusting after our new kicker. My man doesn’t do entanglements. No time. Then again, Carter’s on the same schedule as the rest of us, so maybe teammates with benefits would suit her just fine. Actually, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe it’s time I get to know the new kicker. It could be just the distraction I need to banish the she-devil from my thoughts once and for all.
“What the fuck?” Coop stares down at his cock, brow furrowed. Then he does a weird little dance and jams his hand down the front of his pants, scratching his balls. “What. The. Actual. Fuck!” he howls, going to town on his johnson.
