“And resting?”
“I’m trying.”
She studies my face for another second, then nods. Once I pass her inspection, I turn to Sandra. Seeing her drags the guilt right to the forefront and I think I could try to ease her into it, test the waters, maybe drop some hints and see how she reacts. But that sounds exhausting so I’m just going to rip the band aid off and see what happens. Best case scenario, we joke about it and she tells me it’s okay to carry on with him. Worst case, I fake my own death, change my name and disappear with Johnson.
“You want to come to the bar with me?” I ask her.
She shakes her head. “Nah. I kind of have a date.”
Oh. I guess it can wait then. My eyes flick to her parents, waiting for a reaction, but they look completely calm. If they heard her, they don’t show it. They’ve always been like that, not questioning her choices as long she’s happy with them.
After another round of hugs, I grab a cab and head to the bar to meet up with the team. My only goal tonight is getting Johnson alone by any means necessary. Akintola and Bayero are outside when I arrive, deep in conversation. I nod at them on my way in before stepping into the noise and heat of the bar.
Music pounds through the space, bass thudding in my chest, but I don’t pay attention to what’s playing. My eyes sweep the room automatically, zeroing in on Johnson within seconds.
And then I notice he’s not alone.
The guy sitting next to him looks around his age and is annoyingly attractive, with long dreadlocks that fall around his face. Normally, I would be all over that, but tonight, I don’t have the patience. He’s sitting too close to Johnson, their shoulders are touching, and their heads are tipped towards each other. Johnson looks so relaxed with him, more than I’ve ever seen him with anybody else.
I look around, searching for our teammates, but with the exception of the two I saw outside, none of them are here. I guess that’s why Johnson is comfortable picking a guy here.
I don’t know why, but the sight of them makes something in me recoil. My whole body hates it on instinct. I tell myself to relax, and I stop my feet from moving in their direction. I pretend I’m above this. Questions rush through my head, tripping over each other as I try to make sense of what I’m looking at. Did Johnson ever mention being with men before me? Did we even talk about anything real that night?
My brain unhelpfully replays the memory of me jerking our cocks in tandem, his body writhing under me. Yeah, conversation was not exactly my priority.
Fuck this shit.
I take a step towards them before I even realise I’m moving, then I stop so abruptly I trip over my own feet. What exactly am I planning to do here? Am I seriously about to confront himfor talking to another guy? It’s not like we made plans to hook up again or that we’d only hook up with each other. We didn’t promise each other anything. One and done is already more than I ever thought I’d get.
The reality check cools me down and I pivot to the bar instead. If I’m lucky, I’ll find a drink strong enough to drown this stupid feeling. Maybe I can also get a guy and drag him into the bathroom, get my hands down his pants, or sink to my knees until I’m too busy choking on cock to think about Johnson at all. If that doesn’t work, I can bend him over and fuck him until Johnson is finally pushed out of my head.
11
ROLAND
—Muddy Waters by LP
I thinkCoker is ignoring me.
It’s not something I would usually notice, but since last night, every attempt I’ve made to get his attention has been futile. When Sandra texted to congratulate me, saying she was there to watch the match like she had promised, I figured he just wasn’t coming to the bar. That he’d be spending the night with the Basseys, who both came to see the match with Sandra. Then I got pulled into conversation with Michael, who flew in from Abuja yesterday morning.
The first thing he did was give me an update about my pending divorce. I couldn’t hear half of what he was saying because I kept hoping Coker will show up and was checking the door periodically. I did hear when Michael said even legal matters can be fast tracked if money exchanges certain hands. I immediately transferred the required sum, and it kind of hit me right then that my marriage really failed. I have never failed at anything before. All Michael could offer was a pat to my shoulder.
But it wasn’t enough. For some reason, I wanted Coker to be there. After searching the crowd over Michael’s shoulder again, I finally saw him. When our eyes met though, his expression was so cold it could freeze a volcano. Then he looked away, turning his body slightly so his shoulder faced me instead.
I swear to God, it still stings like hell.
Since we left Copenhagen, he has been giving me signs that he wants me. Basically eye-fucking me. And I’ve finally made peace with the fact that I’m attracted to him. I want him, and I would take whatever he’s willing to give me.
And I had it all planned out, too. I was hoping I could get him to come back to my room since Akintola already told me he wasn’t sleeping there again, so I had it all to myself. But the look on his face killed that idea fast. The spark of interest that was constantly on his face was missing, and in its place was something resembling thinly veiled disgust.
My mind keeps circling back to it, stuck wondering whether he’s already tired of me. The thought annoyed me the second it formed. I still hate that it even crossed my mind. What the hell has come over me? I know whatever this is between us is temporary, and it’s not like I don’t know his reputation of sleeping around. My little lapse in judgement doesn’t mean I should become a clingy mess and start acting like I own him.
But God, I do want him. There’s something about him that keeps my body wound tight and restless. Since we hooked up, I’ve been stuck in this constant, low throb of arousal that refuses to fade. I can’t think of anything other than him settling between my thighs, the slow grind that would draw every sound out of me, and the way he would take me apart.
God help me, I want him.
By the time the team bus approaches Norwich, I am a tight bundle of nerves, my legs bouncing the whole ride. I keep telling myself to relax, that I’m overthinking this. Should I just walk upto him and ask what his problem is? It strikes me as funny that at the start of this World Cup trip, I had wanted to approach him for a completely different reason. Three weeks shouldn’t be long enough for things to change this much, but here I am.
