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Chapter 8
Brett
When I open my eyes, my head feels like it’s about to explode and a fucking dog slept in my mouth.
I sit up and rub my eyes.
Where the hell am I?
It takes me only a moment to remember I’m at the hotel, not at home. The hangover is foreign, too. I haven’t had a lot to drink during the past season. I missed going out and having fun, but I sure as shit didn’t miss this.
Drinking with friends, taking a girl home to fuck…that’s what life is all about. Having fun. And last night was a hell of a lot of fun.
Jenna.
I’m in bed alone. The sheets are crumpled but cold. She’s been gone for a while. She left while I was still sleeping. She didn’t say a word.
Well, that’s fucking convenient, isn’t it? How many times have I wished women would do that for me? It skips the awkward part in the morning, where I have to make small talk, where I have to remember their damn names. Where I have to find a good excuse to boot them out of the door before I can follow up with a broken promise of calling.
She left and saved me all the trouble.
Perfect.
I get up and stumble to the bathroom. I don’t think I’m hungover—I’m still drunk. The world spins and my legs feel wobbly.
I turn on the spray but leave it cold. Nothing like a freezing shower to sober me up and whip me back into shape.
When the water runs over me, her scent fills the bathroom. I flash on having her under me, my cock buried deep inside of her. Her dark blonde hair, silky between my fingers. Her gasps and moans a direct result of what I’m doing to her.
My cock hardens again. Need unfurls inside me.
Fuck.
I push the thought away. There’s no reason to think about her. I got what I wanted, didn’t I?
But no, I didn’t get what I wanted. Because she’s not just any woman I decided to fuck for the night. This is Jenna. The girl I crushed on for most of the time my best friend dated her. The woman who got away before I could ever have her.
My teammates always joke that I hit-and-run because I fuck and forget. But I don’t want to forget this one. I don’t…
“Damn it, Brett, harden the fuck up,” I tell myself.
I can’t stand here in the shower, naked and feeling sorry for myself that the one girl I would have wanted to wake up to wasn’t there. I can’t have my cake and eat it, too. Either I’m the womanizer, the player, the ass who looks for a place to rest my dick for the night…or I’m someone who wants to get serious and settle down. I’m not the latter. I’ve never been. So, why the fuck is this tripping me up so much?
I scrub myself clean, wash my hair, and stand under the cold water until all the soap runs down the drain before I get out and towel myself off. I shave, get dressed, and check my phone for training updates, messages, and whatever the fuck else I can get my hands on so that I’m not focusing on the strange, hollow feeling inside my chest.
When Marc knocks on the door, I’m relieved.
“Thought we lost you, there,” he says with a grin.
“You know me; I always find my way back home.”
He laughs. “You look like shit.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve had that much to drink.”
“Yeah, me too. My head aches like a fucking bitch. Want to go for a run?”
“Fuck, no,” I say.
