Maybe I am.
I’m fresh off probation with everything to lose.
But Tori’s the first person who’s ever made me want to choose the right play.
And after yesterday, walking away is the one thing I can’t talk myself into.
Bennett: Is my warden walking me to dinner?
I pull my quarter-zip over my head, waiting for Tori’s reply.
Sunshine: Tied up. I’ll meet you there
Bennett: I’d like to see that
Sunshine: Not on your life
Bennett: Don’t tempt me, Sunshine
An image of Tori tied to the plush hotel bed flashes through my mind and I instantly get a hard-on.
Great.
I grab my keycard and leave my room before I give into the temptation of jerking off before dinner. Coach will be all over my ass if I’m late and I can’t afford more trouble.
“Benny, what’s good?” Morrison smacks me on the back at the elevator bank and I shrug, acting casual.
“Everything. You ready for tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
A few more guys file into the hallway as the elevator arrives and we all crush into the space. Morrison jams the button and my teammates make small talk. I stay quiet, trying to keep my head straight.
All I need to do tonight is grab a quick bite, then head upstairs and go through my pre-game routine: shower, stretch, sleep.
Shouldn’t be tough.
I’ve done it loads of times before.
Before Tori.
Now, though, that all seems like a monumental task.
I move with the crowd toward the reserved dining room. We shuffle in and I automatically clock the set-up. Buffet on the back wall. One round table reserved for management and another long family-style table for players. Unlike this morning on the plane, no assigned seats.
Prince, Keller, and an assistant coach sit at the roundtable, heads together. Probably deep in talks about game strategy. Several of the guys already have full plates of food, scarfing down steak, veggies, and potatoes. A few waitstaff move around the room, refilling water glasses.
I join the buffet line behind Morrison. The faster I get through this dinner, the better. I put up with my brothers chirping this afternoon and I’m sure there’s more what that came from.
“What’s up, Benny?” Weston snags a plate from the tall stack of dishes next to the buffet.
Here we go.
“Not much. Ready for tomorrow. How’s Harbor?” I tip my head at his girlfriend, chatting with Prince. “She fending off some PR disaster? Or just here as your plus-one?”
“Shut up. You know she’s working.” He scowls at me, and I’m happy to have one-upped him for the first time today.
I slide a piece of salmon onto my plate, scoop some potatoes and broccoli before moving down the line. Weston does the same, still frowning.
