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Theo scowled and pointed to the bird on the wall. “Pound the cock.”
“It’s a chicken,” I argued.
They shared an exasperated look and scowled at me.
“It’s a cock,” Gideon said with the conviction of a preacher. “And you pound it every time you walk in or out.”
“You do realize how fucked up that sounds, right?”
Theo busted out laughing. “That’s the point,” he said, then went stone-cold serious. “But it’s tradition, and you’re part of the team now. Fucking act like it.”
I hesitated.
“Don’t be an asshole,” Theo said. “Be a man and pound the cock.”
Two more guys wandered in and slammed their fists against the … cock.
“Fine,” I groaned and slapped my hand against the mural.
“That was some weak shit, dude,” Theo scoffed. “Use your fist like a grown-ass man.”
“Are you seri—”
“Fist the bird, Tatum!” Gideon said with a manic grin.
I glared at them both and punched the chicken in the face. “Happy?”
Gideon snickered. “Fucking ecstatic.”
We went our separate ways. Gideon’s locker was three down from mine, but Theo’s was on the other side of the locker room. My new practice jerseys were hanging up, waiting for me. I tipped my head to Gideon. “Yo—we in red or white today?”
“Red,” he called back as he stripped his shirt off.
I yanked the red jersey off the hanger and pulled it on before pawing around for a pair of gym shorts. It would be a few hours before we hit the field. We’d have breakfast during the first team meeting of the day, then go our separate ways to see the trainers and medical staff to have any injuries or concerns evaluated. After that, we’d hit the weight room for a workout before heading out to special teams meetings or to the field.
Training camp days were long and grueling. Afterward, I always felt like I had been hit by a bus. It never got easier. It was one of those necessary evils that had to be survived in the name of chasing dreams.
I sat in the team meeting room and shoveled in another bite of oatmeal as some of the guys filtering in gave me acknowledging chin tips. I returned the gesture but didn’t say anything for the sake of inhaling more food before I burned it all off.
“So, what’s new?” Gideon asked as he took a seat on my right. Long wooden tables sat six guys on each side of the room. At the front were whiteboards, projectors, and podiums.
Theo filtered through the breakfast buffet line and took the empty seat on my left.
“Not much,” I mumbled into my coffee. I needed the jolt of caffeine to keep me awake. I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning. I wasn’t nervous about training camp. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Wren straddling my hips, riding my cock, and looking like a devastatingly flawless angel. I wondered if she would be working at my place today. Maybe she would be there when I got home.
The idea of walking in and potentially seeing her gave me a jolt of energy more powerful than the coffee.
I didn’t have any expectations that I’d see her again or that we would have a repeat performance of last night. That didn’t mean I didn’t think about how fan-fucking-tastic another round with her would be. Maybe a round where our clothes came all the way off, and I had her bent over my lap…
“Yo, T.J.,” Theo smacked the back of my head. “You in there?”
“Huh?”
Gideon laughed. “Dude, I’ve been asking you how the move went for two minutes.”
“Oh.” I shook my head, trying to exorcise Wren from my thoughts. “Sorry. Still asleep. The move was fine.”
“You got a place, or did the team put you up in a hotel?” Gid asked.
