Jack’sawaysoccer game.
The moment I stepped toward the field, the exact level of bad decision hit me like a truck. A very big truck on an empty street I should’ve been able to avoid.
FC games weren’t like those played at high schools. There were no bleachers. There were no home and away sides. No, I stood right on the fucking sidelines, completely visible. No fans or parents to blend in with, but my slow-witted brain had decidedto claim it. I waswatchingall right, just as Jack had accused. Call me a psycho.
He’d told me once not to go to his games, and since I couldn’t think of anything to say, I came to his game to fuck with him. So how in the hell had he turned this around on me? Maybe it’d been his intent all along. Get me mad enough so I’d do something stupid and he could call me out on it.
Well, it worked.
More than once, I nearly left, just admitted defeat and went home, but that would’ve been even more obvious that I’d fucked this up.
Jack saw me. How could he not? During his warm-up, he locked eyes on me, slowing as he ran off the field. In that singular moment, I was vindicated. My presence got to him. Then I stood there while he completely ignored me for the rest of his game.
At the end of it—and they won, of course—he smiled at his team in one of those rare moments he shared it with the world.
I ducked my head and skulked off. This was awkward. I didn’t like that he used that smile on others. I didn’t want to see it happen either. I shouldn’t be here.
All the rotten things Sasha and my parents had spewed or implied came to mind. Me failing, me being ballless, me being screwed up, pathetic, juvenile, weak, a troublemaker, useless, disappointing. They landed on my shoulders and twisted around my neck as I tucked tail and practically ran for my truck. I had no right to his smiles, and he certainly didn’t want me to have them.
Only … when I pulled my phone from my pocket and tossed it into a cup holder, a little blue light of hope blinked.
Princess
Stalker.
I didn’t answer.
But I grinned.
Daddy and Cara were home by the time I got there. I ran to my room, closing the door behind me, then closed the door to my bathroom and turned the vent and the shower on.
The ever-present shit with my family, with expectations, swirled in my head, but it all dulled behind thoughts about Jack. The kiss, our fights, how he messed me up in the head, and watching him play. His body was nearly poetic out there on the field. Graceful, purposeful, as he showed off his athleticism.
Never in my life had I thought about an athletic guy the way I did Jack. The bursts of power, the flexing muscles, the stamina, the agility. Watching Jack was like appreciating art or something. But also, his sweaty hair as it flopped around his head, the red in his cheeks when he got overheated, wet marks on his uniform that molded it to him, all led to thoughts of me touching each of them.
Steam filled the room, and I yanked my shirt off, then flipped through videos on my phone. Guys jerking off alone, with others, guys kissing, rimming each other, fucking … My insides clenched at the sights, but my heart raced and heat bloomed under my skin when I thought of doing these things with Jack.
Was he gay?
Was I gay?
I didn’tnotlike girls, but none of them had affected me as strongly as Jack was now.
Bi, maybe? Or hell, did I need a label? I liked what I liked.
Images of Jack as he rushed me, surprising me with that kiss, morphed into others with him smiling, scowling, his teasing eyes, and that barely there grin, and they were all I needed. I jerked off with a soapy hand under the spray for a much-needed reset in my balls.
The next day in first period, I forced my eyes to stay on the ground until I was safely in my seat. I decided not to beembarrassed about going to his game. Jack wasn’t the type to call me out publicly for it, and if he did in private, I’d enjoy it, knowing I got under his skin.
“Why couldn’t I get in touch with you last night?” Sasha asked.
Because you don’t need to get in touch with me. I reached into my pocket and turned my phone on. “Shut it off,” I said, not explaining shit. She hadn’t listened the first twenty times I’d told her we were over, to stop texting me. Why would she now?
Notifications flashed, and I quickly shoved it back into my jeans before Sasha saw something I didn’t want her to. Something from Jack.
“Why? Who were you with?” When I didn’t answer, she pinched my side with her long nails.
“Ow, shit.”
