“No. Just fucking no.”
I shrugged, then sat back to play on my phone.
I waited another thirty minutes before I asked another question.
“Any other teammates who might be interested in hooking up? It’s so much easier when you can fuck someone in the shower, then be done. You know what I like, any suggestions?”
He didn’t reply, but continued to strangle the steering wheel, much like he’d done to my cock.
“Guess that’s a no. I suppose I can just useGrindrorSniffies. Shall we do the sock on the doorknob thing to let you know when I have someone in the room?”
“No,” he gritted out. “We’re not doing that shit.”
“Why? It’s not like I can get my own room. How am I supposed to hook up if you’re in there?”
I huffed for effect. “I guess you can watch. I mean, I don’t care. It’s not like you haven’t seen my cock and balls. You had them in your mouth, for god’s sake.”
Carson switched lanes, which ended our forward progress. At this rate, we’d never get there.
“Colin, we can’t go to camp acting like this. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”
I held up my hand and laughed. “You didn’t hurt me, Carson. You gave me a good time, just like I asked. We’re friends, and this is who I am. I’m uninhibited and like to hook up. But once it’s over, it’s over. There’s no going back. So don’t worry, mate. I’ll be your wingman.”
I was so full of kangaroo doo, but I had a plan.
“Wingman? For what?”
I grinned. “Your next hookup. I’ll go to the bar with you and find your next lay. Easy.”
His handsome face contorted again. “We’re not here to get laid. We’re here to work.”
“Of course we are, but you said it was also about team building, and the way I see it, you and me are a team. And I’m gonna teach you how to attract a man.”
Carson stared at me, his mouth hanging open, until the car behind us blew the horn. I grinned.
“Let’s go, mate,” I said, slapping him on the back. “We’ve got some team building to do.”
The car behind us honked again, startling him out of his stooper.
I grinned and sat back to enjoy the ride, knowing I had no intention of doing any of that. What he did when I was gone was one thing, but while I was here, I intended to hold his attention to the last day.
Training camp for American football was fairly similar to what I was used to at home. The first week, we started the day with conditioning, then headed into our team meeting with Coach Henderson, where he broke down our goals and how he saw us making it back to the Super Bowl. I knew the final game of the season was the pinnacle of the sport, where the best teams met for a final clash. And since I was competitive as hell, succeeding at a new sport at the highest level was the pinnacle of success.
Team practice had been light, focusing on learning the playbook and conditioning to avoid injury. That was very similar to what we did, so assimilating was pretty easy.
The most unusual part was getting used to the helmet. When I put it on for the first time, I felt as if I had a weirdly segmented mushroom on my head. It was heavy and weighed down on my neck, so I took it off every chance I got. Owen would laugh his ass off if he could have seen me.
At the end of the week, we had a Media Day to showcase the team to the press and any fans who came out to see the Storm play. Surprisingly, I was interviewed several times by reporterswho wanted to know what it was like to change sports and how I was transitioning to football.
Lennox had friends present to watch, while Evan did not. I felt a kinship with him being all alone in the world. But where he had his partner back in California, I was alone in the world, with only my moody roommate to speak of.
After a day off spent hanging out by the pool, Carson and I ran our own practices, where he continued to harp on the rules to avoid penalties. As difficult as it was to avoid wanting him, we were both professional athletes, so we focused our energy on the sport. I tried to assure him I understood the game, but when his overbearing need to control everything took over, I had to shut him up. When I’d reached my limit with his overachieving ass, I pushed back during a private practice with our offensive counterparts.
Earlier in the week, I’d met Lennox Sanders and Evan Ellis in the elevator, so when Carson asked them to run some plays with us, I was more than delighted to cover the tight end.
“Hello, mate,” I said to Evan. “Thanks for this.”
He grinned, then propped his hands on his hips. “Not a problem. I’m happy to help.”
