The Hook Up (Game On Book 1) (21 page)

FOR THE FIRST time since I’ve been with Anna, I’m relieved that she doesn’t want to be with me tonight. I don’t want her to see the spectacle that is Gray’s birthday celebration.

We hit a few bars, staying only long enough for the crowd to shout its appreciation, for Gray to have a drink, maybe play a game of pool or darts, and then move on. It might seem tame, but even now, there are rules. No binge drinking, no public spectacles, and absolutely no taking home random girls. Right now, we’re ranked number one across the board, and every team wants to take us down. There’s no room for mistakes. Maybe other teams play it differently, but it works for us. Dex and I are in charge of keeping the guys in line. We’re the sober sentinels standing on either side of the ever-moving group of our guys.

Ordinarily, this is a suck-ass job, but I don’t mind it tonight. Though I love hanging with my guys, the whole scene tires me. A few months ago, this might have me worried, but now I recognize it for what it is: my idea of fun has changed. It no longer includes anticipating how many different sets of tits are flashed at me or how many girls I can fuck. I don’t care if people recognize me or slap me on the back and offer to buy me a drink. I’d rather they not notice me at all. That sort of attention means dick-all to me now.

Life has more color, more flavor, and heat in the few hours I’m with Anna, then I’ve experienced in all the years I’ve partied. Because that fun always felt like I was searching, pushing for some ineffable satisfaction that constantly eluded me. With Anna, I feel like I’ve landed right where I want to be.

Exhaustion weighs down my shoulders and my eyelids are gritty as we head back to my house. Normally, I wouldn’t agree to a party here. But it’s Gray’s birthday, and he deserves to have his fun. My house is safe from the public eye and events can be contained there. Because Gray has been adamant about one birthday request.

With a suppressed sigh, I lean back against my living room wall and watch four half-naked women give Gray a lap dance. There are so many naked limbs, it looks like some demented female hydra writhing around him. Tits bounce in his face, an ass grinds on his crotch, hands run over his head and shoulders, and he’s loving it, as are our teammates. Hoots and catcalls ring out. Especially when the women fan out, each of them headed for a guy. Music thumps in time to writhing and sleek female flesh.

I eye the clock on my DVR and grit my teeth. Yeah, I’m officially a grumpy old man. I just want to go to bed.

Across from me, Dex leans against the kitchen counter nursing a bottled-water. With his bulky frame, shaggy brown hair, and full beard that he insists on wearing, women often call him Bear, something I’m fairly certain he gets off on.

Ethan Dexter, or Dex as everyone calls him, plays center, my right hand, ultimate look out, and the last man standing between me being flattened by hungry linemen. I love this guy and am not ashamed to admit it.

I make my way to him, stepping over the legs of the woman now kneeling before Gray, her head bobbing up and down in rhythmic fashion. Holy hell, I do not want to witness that. Some things can never be unseen.

“Who the fuck arranged for a full service performance?” I ask Dex, as I stand next to him. “That was not part of the deal.”

Dex crosses his beefy arms over his chest. “Simms. The little fucker.”

Simms, who is a massive defensive end, is also getting some personalized service. I turn away and fish a water out of the fridge. “Let them finish off, and then the girls are out of here.” I take a long swallow and grimace. “I don’t give a shit if it’s Gray’s birthday, I don’t need to see all of that.” Never mind that if we get caught, we’re in deep shit. Not by the police. It’s a sad truth that we’re so revered by this town, this state, that we can get away with anything short of murder. And some days, I wonder about even that. No, I’m talking about Coach. Who doesn’t put up with any shit.

Dex grunts. His face is flushed and his mouth pinched. If there’s one thing that I know about Dex, it’s his intense dislike of exhibitionism. He’s never gone for casual sex. For all I know, he might be pulling a Tebow and is still a virgin. “Why not stop them now?”

“Seems cruel to stop a guy in mid…” I shrug, not wanting to finish that statement.

But I’ve made Dex blush harder.

“You can go if you want,” I offer. “I can clear them out on my own.”

Dex shakes his head and grabs his own water, chugging it down in two gulps. He slams the empty bottle down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Naw, I’m not doing that to you, man. Can you imagine any girlfriend being okay with this?”

Despite my foul mood, a smile tugs at my mouth. Anna would probably go into a tirade about the objectification of women and how such paid services dehumanize both sexes. She’d be right, but then she’s never had to deal with a whiny Gray before.

Pride. It washes over me with warm satisfaction when I think of Anna. And then it promptly flushes away, leaving me cold, because I want Anna to meet Dex and the rest of them. Which seems like it will never happen. She’d balk at the idea. Then again, she came to my practice today. She sought me out for basic comfort.

The warmth returns. Strange how much satisfaction I got just from taking the hurt out of her eyes and replacing it with happiness. When I think of her asswad absentee father, who I’d personally like to pound into a stain on the turf, and of her mother’s roving hands boyfriend, Anna’s reluctance to make a deeper connection becomes clearer. Whereas I grew up seeing firsthand what a loving, committed relationship can be, she likely hasn’t got a clue.

“You got a woman, Dex?”

Dex studies the cabinets before him as though they hold the secret of life. “I was just thinking out loud.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.” I take a drink and try to hide my smile. “Sounds like you’re afraid of what a specific girl might think.” Which would make two of us.

“There was a girl.” The corners of Dex’s eyes crease, like he’s caught between a smile and a grimace. “She didn’t like football. And what could I say to that?”

I sympathize.

“Said we were just boys in oversized bodies.”

“Well, sometimes we are,” I mutter. “But, isn’t every guy at some point or another?”

“You know it’s going to be worse when we go Prime Time. Take all of this,” Dex jerks his chin toward the living room, “add a shit-ton of money to it, and see what mess comes out.”

Money. The way most of us are playing, we’ll be making bank by this time next year. It isn’t a pipe dream; it’s a fact. And it will come with the expectation of excellence. Against guys who are tougher, faster, stronger, and far more experienced.

After gaining national recognition, I’ve had the privilege to talk to some of my heroes: quarterbacks who’ve won the Super Bowl. They make no bones about the unrelenting pressure.
In college, you have what feels like ten minutes in the pocket. In the NFL? It’s ten seconds. And you better believe they’ll hit you hard. You aren’t looking down the barrel of a gun but a fucking cannon, kid.

Does it scare me?

It makes me antsy as all hell. I want my life to happen now.

I shrug and set my now empty bottle down too. “We’ll be all right. And by ‘we’ I mean you, a few others, and me. I don’t know about some of these boneheads.”

Dex just watches me as if I haven’t answered the way he wants. “You think it’s smart to fall for a girl now when you know what’s out there for you in the near future?”

“What do you mean by that?” I know I’m scowling, but does he think a guy can simply cut off his feelings?

Dex’s massive shoulders lift and fall. “I’m thinking a girl’s got to love the life as much as she loves you to put up with the shit we’ll be dealing with, is all.”

The scowl on my face seems to sink down into my bones. I want to roll my neck just to throw off the ugly feeling settling over me. Love the life? Shit, I don’t even know how to get Anna to consider the possibility of loving me.

One girl decides to lose the g-string and hop on Gray’s lap, and I’ve had enough.

“All right, that’s it,” I say, “I’m calling this game.”

“About time,” Dex mumbles.

“Listen up,” I boom out in my play voice, “party’s over.”

“What?” shouts Simms. “We just got started.”

“And now you’re going to end it.” Dex plants his feet wide and crosses his thick arms over his chest. “We’re coming down to the wire. Coach hears about this shit and it’s lights out.”

“Damn, man, that’s just wrong,” grumbles another guy.

But they’re listening; Dex and I are co-captains, and they’re used to listening to us. Besides, they’ve committed too much to the season to mess up now. The women, on the other hand, are gaping at Dex and me like we’ve gone insane. Which makes my guys slow their feet.

“Come on.” I clap my hands together. “Let’s go.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“That’s right,” I say to the group, “Mom and Dad have spoken, so be good little fuckers and go to bed.”

Someone half-heartedly throws a cheese puff at me, but they’re moving, grumbling their way to the door with Dex herding them out. As for the girls, all but one of them scurry off into my bathroom to put their clothes back on, freshen up, or whatever; I don’t want to know.

It’s the one who’s stayed behind that worries me. She’s eyeing me like I’m ice cream on a cone as she strides over, clad only in black heels, her breasts bouncing with every step.

Hell.

I busy myself with collecting empty bottles, praying she’s just heading for a drink. No such luck.

“Battle Baylor. God, but you’re hot.” She edges nearer, her nipples grazing my arm as she moves around to face me. “Even better looking in person than you are on TV.”

Life-sized too.
I refuse to edge back, but I want to. I’m not blind; the woman’s body is centerfold ready. I still want her far away from me. I keep my eyes on her face. “I’ve got clean-up to do here. You and your friends all set with payment?”

The smile she gives me is tight, her lips shining with a layer of pink gloss that would probably taste like stale wax. “Don’t you worry about payment. I’m off the clock for this. I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.”

Blue eyes rimmed in dark kohl gaze up at me. She’s all but thrusting her bare tits under my nose. Something my baser self can appreciate—a naked woman is a naked woman, after all. The rest of me, however, is embarrassed for both of us.

When I was in high school, I had fantasies of being serviced by multiple women at once, of receiving this exact type of proposition. Young me had thought it would be sexy as all hell. The reality, I’d soon come to realize, is seedy and awkward.

“Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not interested.” Not even a little. The need to hurry her out of my house presses on the back of my neck. More so when she leans into me and her breasts brush against my shirt. She smells of beer and deodorant, and she had my best friend’s dick in her mouth not ten minutes ago. The thought makes me wonder how she kept her lip gloss so pristine.

“Ah, now, Battle,” she rubs her hand over my chest while looking up at me, “I think you’ll change your mind when you see what I can do with my mouth.”

I don’t want anything to do with her mouth. I’m fairly certain I’ll never be able to look at pink lip gloss the same way again.

Gently, I take hold of her wrist and lift her hand from me. “Honey, you could suck the center out of a Tootsie Pop and I’d still say no. Not that I don’t appreciate your offer.”

She pouts, but steps back. “You’ve a funny way of showing your appreciation.”

“So I’ve been told. Time to go. Drive safely.”

It’s almost amusing the way she appears so confused and nonplussed. As if she’s never entertained the thought of being turned down. She takes one long look at me, and then collects her things, pulling a t-shirt and tight pants from her bag to toss on. “Why are the really hot ones always gay?” she says as she hoists her bag over her shoulder. With a flip of her long blond hair, she’s out the door.

I want to sag in relief. Only Gray is busy glaring at me in disgust. I hadn’t noticed him standing close by.

“I cannot believe you turned that down.”

“I cannot believe you’d think I’d take her up on the offer.”

Gray shakes his head. “Fine, you don’t cheat. But some of us haven’t lost our dicks to a girl. I had plans, you know? And they did not include you sending those women home.”

Right. I don’t like to think of what those plans might be. Especially when Gray’s eyes are glassy and he’s slurring his words.

“Look, if you want to get laid, call one of your girlfriends.” Which is a very loose use of the word for Gray. “Don’t take women like that home.”

Gray snorts loudly through his lips. “You think there’s a difference for me?”

“There’s a world of difference, and you know it.” At least one of his hook ups—and I’m beginning to fucking hate that term—doesn’t expect payment. I eye him, considering. Darkness lurks in his expression. Suddenly I realize that his family hasn’t called him. “Want to crash here? We can hang out.”

He waves me off, wobbling on his feet as he does it. “Naw. Not ready to call it a night.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Gray backs away. “No way. Not when you’re in Mother Hen mode. Go to bed. It’s all good.”

Over his shoulder, I meet Dex’s eyes, and he gives me a nod. He’s got this.

“Fine.” I’m not happy about it, but pushing would only piss Gray off. Not something I want to do any more of tonight. As long as I know he’ll get home and stay there, then I’ve got to respect his wishes. I pat Gray on the shoulder. “Happy Birthday, man.”

He glares at me for a moment, pissed off, but then the clouds break and he’s suddenly pulling me into a bear hug. We give each other a punch on the back, and I find myself relieved.

Alone in my room, however, I can’t sleep. The bedside clock says 1 a.m. Part of me is now sorry I kicked the guys out so early. I lay back against a pile of pillows, my bent leg slowly rocking side to side as I stare in the darkness. My phone rests heavy in my hand. Anna has confessed to being a night owl, mostly due to staying up reading. I could be reading as well. My playbook rests on the far side of the bed, and there’s a Jack Reacher novel collecting dust on the nightstand. Instead I run my thumb along the edge of my phone, and my leg swings with greater agitation.