He hesitates but says, “Flanker,” and mushes me at my laughter.
“Tell Daisy I got her if she wants tips.” At five ten, his little sister is short for their family, but with more time in the gym, she’ll be a wrecking ball in my position.
I block the roll of tape Shins chucks at my head with my water bottle. “Stay away from her,” he snaps, tugging at the tape that secures the lifting block he uses to practice lineouts from one of his thighs. “That’s my baby sister.”
“The fact that you think I’d go after an eighteen-year-old is insulting. Give me some credit for my virtue.”
One, I prefer my women older. I’m attracted to the ones my age, but there’s something about a woman in her thirties or forties.
Two, Shins and Daisy share their father’s face. Pass.
All three resemble the Black duke fromBridgerton. Dude isn’t unattractive, but he annoyed me during the first season, which my mother forced me to watch last Christmas. He and Shins have the same thick brows, brown eyes, and scowl. Shins isn’t into tailcoats and cravats, but he dons a stick up his ass.
“There are certain lines I won’t cross,” I emphasize.
Married.
Under twenty-five.
Orders sparkling water at restaurants.
He deadpans, “Are you not the only motherfucker on this field?”
I rub my beard. “Not sure. Bread helped Coach Titan get on one of those dating apps.”
“Who’s a motherfucker?” Quincy, our scrum-half, walks up with Kendrick.
The “backs,” or backline, had a primer training session while we forwards focused on system offense. We get thirty minutes before we switch. I was hoping for a quick nap, but I see now that’s not happening.
“This one.” Shins points at me.
I smack away his finger. “You need to get out more.”
Quincy squeezes between us with a grin. “Did you forget about Miami?”
“How was I supposed to know an opposing player’s mom was scouting for dick at the bar?” Did she get what she was looking for? Hell yeah. “And that was one time,” I say in my defense and kick Quincy’s cleat. “Respect your elders.”
The little prick is the size of a Fiat and can’t grow more than two strands of chin hair. At twenty-two, he’s the youngest person in Steel House, and he gets stuffed in the trash bin at least once a week for not knowing when to knock it off.
“What about the woman in Chicago, our first season?” Shins asks.
“We got stuck in a snowstorm. I was trapped in her house.” My frown deepens at their laughter.
Quincy’s mini ’fro scratches against the turf as he clutches the sides of his Tonka Truck muscles. Even Kendrick is hunched over, hollering like our flights didn’t get canceled that game.
Phyllis had the body of Taraji with a bob to match. We met the night before my game at an upscale bar across from my hotel. I popped in for a nightcap after practice and came out with her number. We celebrated the Steel’s win at her house, and I couldn’t find a ride back to my room because of the road conditions.
So I used the extra time at her place eating the snacks she kept for her granddaughter and homecooked meals. I even had a bath with those fancy salts my mom bought out of Avon catalogs when I was younger. Phyllis was forty-six and expectednothing but my stamina, a willing tongue, and me not to use her decorative towels.
I left the Windy City with hickeys, mild carpet burn, and a to-go plate.
“Is it wrong to enjoy women and not discriminate based on age?” They make it sound like I bruised granny’s esophagus with no aftercare.
I’m not reckless with my dick or selfish by only seeking pleasure for myself. I take pride in my stroke game and aim to leave every woman I’m with happier than she was before she came.
Except for one.
Miriam is the only woman I have never satisfied. It wasn’t from a lack of trying, but it’s hard to reset the mood after a broken nose and hours in the ER. Not that I would try now that we’re friends.
