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“What would you say if I told you we lost out on Naperville to Barnum State?”
“Fucking Hirschfeld,” Freddy groans into the phone.
Sam Hirschfeld was an assistant alongside me a few years back. We got along well, had a friendly rivalry when it came to recruits, but when the head coach job was up for grabs, I got the nod. He left for Barnum State.
“You think he’s tracking us?”
“No,” I say, stepping out of my slacks and leaning back on the bed in my undershirt and boxers. I know better than that. Sam isn’t vindictive. We just both recruit the same type of kid.
“What do you want to do?” Flux is great about that. Backing off when I need him to and applying pressure when it’s necessary. Kid’s got good instincts. He could’ve been a great in the league if only his leg had held out.
“Get some rest,” I say, tilting my head back and squeezing my eyes shut. “Give the kid some space and see where he is in a week. If he’s forgotten us, then I think we refocus. Either the publicity dies down or it doesn’t, and then we’ll know where we stand.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I can picture him nodding, taking in my words.
“Fine,” he says. He clears his throat, and I can almost hear the smile creeping across his face. “Well, then, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna go. There’s—”
“Go,” I say, cutting him off. “I don’t need to hear about it.”
“Thanks, Coach. You have a good night too.” There’s a teasing edge to his voice, but he hangs up before I can set him straight.
Of all my coaching staff, Flux is the one that has niggled his way in the most, due to sheer stubbornness. The kid refuses to take no for an answer when it comes to fostering relationships. That’s what makes him such a good recruiter. This is his first year, and he’s already closed the deal on two kids.
But also, he knows my deal. We got drunk in Reno, and I told him about the escort service I use. Well, about the one in Reno, anyway. It’s legal there. But then he showed up, unannounced, one night with good news about one of our players and ran into Karlie. He put two and two together, and we’ve never spoken about it.
He also knows about Deanna. So, in short, he knows everything.
But he’s also friends with Megan. Which could make things very uncomfortable in the office.
But damn, I cannot stop thinking about her. I realize I’ve just palmed my cock through my shorts. I stand up and shake it off.
This is ridiculous. I’m a thirty-three-year-old man who can’t get it up for a real, live woman because I’m too busy jerking it to the thought of a one-night stand.
I clean myself up and grab my phone. Enough is enough. I need to get her out of my system. I scroll through my contacts and find my Chicago service. Just as I’m about to hit dial, a text notification comes through. It’s from Flux. I open it.
FLUX:Found this scrolling through my pictures, looking for a good dick pic
ME:I don’t want to see your dick
FLUX:I don’t send my DPs to people who don’t appreciate them
FLUX:Just open it
I exhale, and open the photo, really hoping he wasn’t being a jackass about this. The picture pops open, and my throat gets tight.
It’s a picture from the bar after our quarter-finals win. It’s a group shot. Everyone is crowded around the tables outside between the tower heaters. But in the back corner, I’m oblivious, staring at the woman next to me. Megan looks up at me, her expression partially hidden by her dark bangs, her fingertip pressed into my sternum.
She looks even more beautiful than I remembered. That dark hair framing and offsetting her crystal blue eyes. The way that flannel top was buttoned just high enough to be decent, showing just a hint of her red lace bra. The one I sucked her nipples through. Blood flows to my cock, and I zoom in on the photo, trying to reconcile everything I remember with the image in my hand.
Another text message interrupts.
FLUX:You get it?
I grimace as I respond.
ME:Yeah. Thanks.
FLUX:Sure thing, brah
