“Right,” I say, shaking my head. “Sorry, Hannah, I’m a little drunk right now, and?—”
“Save it,” she snaps, pushing away from me. “I didn’t realise you were such an arsehole, Noah.”
The fact she knows my name and I butchered hers makes me feel even worse, but there’s no fixing this shit now, and to be honest, all I want to do is go hide in my room and forget this whole weekend.
“I really am sorry, Hannah.”
She flips me off, flouncing over to her friend, who has her tongue down Ritter’s throat. Not hanging around to watch her bad-mouth me to everyone, I leave, bypassing the rest of the partygoers and heading straight upstairs.
I push open my bedroom door, cursing when I see my ex-teammate’s white arse staring back at me. “Jesus, Walters,” I snap. “Not my fucking bed.”
“One sec,” Theo grunts out, not even slowing his thrusts despite the audience. “Unless you want to join us?”
I freeze at the suggestive tone in his voice.
Is he fucking serious?
Hell. Fucking. No.
I avert my gaze, staring up at the ceiling. “Get the fuck out of my room. Now.”
A low groan slips from his throat, and I know I’ll never get the sound of him spilling his load inside this poor chick out of my nightmares.
“You’re an arsehole,” I mutter as he slips out of my room with his conquest in tow.
Slamming the door shut behind them, I stalk over to the bed and strip the sheets. Tonight has been an absolute shit-show.
Once I’ve fitted the clean sheets, I drop onto the bed fully clothed and sling an arm over my face. I need to get a grip on myself before everything spirals out of control. I need to figure out how to lead this team like Whitford did, and I need to stop letting Kincaid get under my skin. If I can’t get my shit together, Coach Johnson will take the captaincy off me, and that won’t be a fun conversation with my father. I worked too damn hard for this opportunity. I won’t let some arsehole take it away from me.
Why should I care if Kincaid’s into chicks or dudes? It has nothing to do with me. It’s not like I’m interested in him, even if he’s blond and channelling some serious Hollywood hunk vibes. The guy’s a walking, talking cliché who can’t even decide what team he bats for.
Then why the hell is my cock thickening behind my jeans as I remember the angry look in his steel-blue gaze earlier. The way his strong jaw clenched and his plump lips?—
No. What the fuck?
I jerk to my feet and pace the length of my room, tearing my hands through my hair.
No, no, no, no.
This is not happening.
I try to picture Hannah’s face, the way she looked at me like she wanted to jump me right there in the middle of beer pong. That’s what I should be concentrating on: wanting to stick my dick in her warm pussy.
But it’s no use.
My mind drifts to the masked stranger on his knees sucking me into his warm mouth, only it’s not a stranger anymore. It’s my fucking goalkeeper. And when he looks up at me, it reminds me of the flash of pain in Kincaid’s eyes when I threw his sexuality in his face. It was fleeting, but it was there.
What am I doing?
I don’t want to be this person.
Nausea rolls in my stomach, and I stumble across the hall into the bathroom, only just making it before I spill my guts into the toilet bowl, heaving until I have nothing left to throw up. When my stomach is empty and has stopped churning, I wash my face and brush my teeth, unable to look at my reflection in the mirror. Instead, my eyes fall on the disposable razor lying on the vanity next to the sink.
After making sure the door’s locked, I unbutton my jeans and sit down on the closed toilet lid, sliding my boxer briefs up to reveal the small scars littering the top of my thighs and groin. As if in a trance, I crack the side off the razor and carefully extract one of the small blades.
Holding it steady between my finger and thumb, I take a deep, shuddering breath before pressing it into my skin. The familiar sting grounds me as I watch the first drops of blood roll down my leg. I release the pressure with a hiss, then do it again, slightly lower this time. I wince each time the blade pierces my skin, but the pain helps clear my head.
After I’m done, I wipe the cuts with antiseptic and patch them up, then I wrap the broken razor in some tissues and hide it in the rubbish bin. My stomach swoops,dizziness sweeping over me as I stumble to my bedroom and collapse on my bed.
