We stop at a food truck, and she orders fish tacos while I opt for a chicken and quinoa bowl to keep my diet as healthy as I can while I’m out on a date.
I kiss her goodnight at the front door, and I don’t make a move beyond that.
It takes exactly one hundred percent of my willpower not to ask her if she’d like to join me in my bedroom.
And so I fist my cock in the shower, pumping up and down until the cum spills out onto my hand with her name a breathless whisper on my lips.
I’m not as sensible with my eating the next night after we go miniature golfing and get ourselves an ice cream treat afterward.
Or the next night when we head to a drive-in movie theater and opt for hot dogs and popcorn.
I know what Ishouldbe doing when it comes to my eating habits—and my dating habits at this time in the season, for that matter. But I can’t seem to stop. I have zero self-control when it comes to her, and these dates are bonding us closer than ever. Why would I possibly want to stop that?
And once the movie starts and the lights go down, she leans her elbow on the console. I do the same, and soon my arm is around her, and we’re turning in toward each other, and then we’re making out as we miss the entire movie in favor of kissing. And a little over the shirt tit action.
It’s another night of jerking off in the shower.
On Saturday morning before I have to leave for practice, I ask over breakfast, “Do you want to come to the game on Sunday?”
She tilts her head as she thinks about it. “Where would I sit?”
“I can get you tickets pretty much wherever you want.”
“And I’d just go…by myself?”
“You could probably sit with Lindsay.”
“I could...but she’s a client, and if I go, I don’t want to talk shop. I want to watch the game.” She twists her lips and sighs. “I really need to make some friends here in Tampa.”
“No better way to get that underway than to attend a game,” I suggest, and she agrees.
Saturday night is spent away from each other, and I use the time at the team hotel to catch up on the film I shouldhave been studying all week. All games matter, but none are as important as our matchup next weekend against the Fury in Nashville. We should easily be able to beat the Falcons this weekend, while the Fury has a harder matchup against the Forty-Niners.
We need them to lose. We need to win this week and next. It’s simple math. That’s our path to the playoffs.
I’m focused as I take the field on Sunday. I know Tatum is here somewhere, and that makes me feel a little lighter.
Everything is off to a good start. Agreatstart, really. But it all sinks down the drain in the third quarter.
Our quarterback, Grant Landry, snaps the ball, and I’m being used as a blocker on this play. I do my job, carefully keeping my weight balanced as I explode off the line to meet the defensive end. I’m keeping him back using every tool in my arsenal, and that’s why I don’t see the defensive tackle slant on the outside.
He rushes right for Grant and takes him down.
Sacks are common in this game, averaging two or three per game. Some have none, some have seven. But what it comes down to is that someone didn’t do his job correctly. It wasn’t me. I kept Darius Briggs away from Grant.
So sacks are common. It’s common for the quarterback to get taken down and pop right back up to keep playing. Sometimes the wind gets knocked out of them, and that’s the worst of it. But on some rare occasions, the quarterback gets taken down, and he doesn’t get right back up.
This is one of those times. He’s grabbing onto the shoulder of his throwing arm, which is bad news for us.
Real bad news.
We’ve still got a chance to win this game, and we still have a shot at the playoffs. But if Grant’s injury is more serious than a bruise, we’re fucked. We’re not going to get past theteams waiting to beat us if we don’t have our starting quarterback.
The training staff rushes over to help him off the field, and he lifts to a stand to the thunderous roar of the crowd. But his arm doesn’t look right, and it’s a sharp reminder that none of us are invincible.
We finish the game with our backup, Reggie Maddox, and we were far enough ahead that we still win even though we don’t put more points on the board. He’s not a bad player, but he’s young, and his nerves are incredibly apparent each time he steps onto the line of scrimmage.
As we gather in the locker room, Coach looks emotional as he says, “Looks like Landry’s dealing with an AC joint sprain.” A collective groan rises up from the group, but Coach talks through it. “We’re looking at three to six weeks.”
