“Nigga, you got me fucked up. I can press your little ass in my sleep,” I shot back.
Getting into position, I gripped the bar and got my shit going. It was nothing like being in here with pure grid-iron that got my blood rushing and my adrenaline pumping. To most, being on the field would be the best part, but to me... this is. How the fuck can I go out on that field week after week and not put in the work beforehand?
“I know you ain’t letting these weights whoop your ass?” Kobe joked. “You need help?”
Before I could respond to his dumb ass, CP’s sorry ass opened his mouth.
CP was an offensive lineman and a bitch. He was always whining about some shit. Like, nigga, are you a grown ass man or a bitch?
“Weak ass nigga,” he mumbled, or at least he thought he did.
I wasted no time dropping the bar back into place and sat up.
“The fuck you say, pussy?” I questioned as I glared at his ass.
“Ain’t nobody said shit to you, nigga.” He cowered.
“Fuck I thought, pussy ass nigga,” I snapped before getting up and heading to the leg weights.
I left his big, goofy looking ass standing there looking stupid before I went to the leg press where Ja’Kobe followed. When we got over there, our QB Miles Tatum or simply Tatum, was already on one of the machines, laughing as we approached.
“The fuck funny, ugly ass boy?” I joked as I dapped him up.
“You, nigga. CP gone beat your ass yet,” he continued.
“He better get right with whoever he prays to if he ever thinks he can try me on some hoe shit,” I spat, meaning every word.
We all shared a laugh before Tatum started again.
“The fuck you disappear to last night? One minute you were chilling with us in the section and the next thing I knew you had gone ghost.”
Taking my position on the machine, I told him about the night I had with the hoe I met at the club.
“Oh, shit.” Tatum cupped his fist to his mouth. “That’s why CP don’t like your ass,” he stated through his own laughter.
“The fuck you talking about?”
“Man, the chick you just described is his girl... well, at least he thinks she is,” he explained.
Looking up, I saw the nigga CP looking in our direction pinning me with a look that would’ve made a weak ass nigga cower in fear. Too bad I wasn’t that nigga.
“Shit, he should be thanking me. I primed that hoe for his ass,” I laughed. “He should be appreciative that I proved hisbitch is indeed a hoe... a nasty one, too.” I smirked looking in his direction.
Had I not been looking at him, he would’ve caught me off guard when his big stupid ass charged in my direction. I quickly side-stepped his ass, making him fall into the bin that was in here for the dirty towels.
“Pussy ass nigga needs to work on his fucking coordination instead of worrying about a hoe,” I snarled as I threw my dirty towel in the bin on his ass.
“Samuels!” I heard Steele, our offensive coach, call out my name.
I looked in his direction, and he just shook his head.
“I’ain even do shit, Steele,” I frowned. “Talk to that bitch boy.” I pointed toward CP. “I think his period on or some shit.” I shrugged.
“Both of y’all... in my office...now!”
I frowned at his back as he walked off.
“This some bullshit,” I huffed.
