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“Impossible with this knee. I can barely move,” I lied.
He rolled his eyes. “Right, uh-huh. Pulling the injury card. I see through that fuckery, McRae.”
We laughed all the way to my floor, then down the hallway. I shoved him through the door and shook my head as we carried the groceries to the kitchen island.
“My Realtor called earlier, by the way. Found me a month-to-month sublease I can take over until I find something more permanent if I want it. Maybe that’s the best idea anyway, to make sure the Rush is gonna hang on to me at least through the season.”
“Yeah, that sounds smart.” I turned my focus to my groceries, setting vegetables on the counter. It would be good to have my own space back, yeah. This was never supposed to be anything other than transient, so why was I already wistful about his imminent departure? Whatever.
“Besides, I know you’re allergic to too much fun in your life.”
“Is that what this is?”
Cullen shrugged. “Something like that. You gonna miss me?” He arched a brow.
“Not for a damn second. Here, stick these in the fridge, and then I’ll get the oven going for your POS pizza,” I told him, then wondered if he could still tell when I was lying.
5
CULLEN
I’d had to train myself to become a morning person. Well, I still couldn’t really say I enjoyed mornings and would rather be able to sleep in and go at things at my own pace, but that wasn’t really possible during football season.
When we were in college, I used to text Houston first thing in the morning—usually with something sexual or some kind of joke. It had become our thing. Now, he was right down the hallway from me, and I was really wishing we could do something sexual in the mornings to help me start my day, but then I’d hear that scolding voice in my head—bad Cullen. Why did Houston McRae make me want to be so very bad with him? It was a problem, and I couldn’t pretend it wasn’t even more difficult while living with him. I tried to pretend it wasn’t, but most of the time, my cock won out, and I’d basically jerked off thinking about him every damn night, even when we’d traveled for the game.
It’s why it would be a good thing that I took this month-to-month sublet. I had to keep reminding myself of all the reasons it was a bad idea to stay with Houston. Honestly? I still wasn’t convinced. He was, of course, the bastard. Not that I didn’t think Houston wanted to fuck me, because I could tell he did. He was just better at making smarter decisions than I was.
Horny, tired, and annoyed, I got out of bed. I didn’t bother to do anything on my phone except turn off my alarm before I stumbled into the bathroom. Why had my Realtor wanted to meet with me so damn early? This shit should be against the law.
I showered, jacked off, then got dressed. I could tell Houston was already gone. Where in the fuck he went so early in the morning, I didn’t know, unless he was just doing his best to avoid me. That was probably the case.
I made myself a protein smoothie and even made sure to clean up after myself so I didn’t annoy Houston. I could be a good boy when I needed to be. Someone should reward me. He should reward me. Oh, wait. I was thinking things I shouldn’t think again.
I ordered a car service and had just got downstairs to the lobby when my cell rang. When I saw my agent’s name on the screen, I groaned. It wasn’t typically a good thing when he called me for no reason.
“It wasn’t me. Scout’s honor. I’ve been doing nothing but playing football and staying at Houston’s,” I said rather than hello.
“What’s going on with you and Houston McRae?”
“Um…I give up. What’s going on with me and Houston?” Was this some kind of game? He couldn’t have known about college or our little slipup in the bathroom, which left us with a big fat nothing.
“Jesus, Cullen. This isn’t a joke. You two must have drawn the paparazzi’s attention for something yesterday. There are photos of the two of you together in the lobby of his building. You’re…very close… It looks like you’re doing everything in your power not to rip each other’s clothes off, if I’m being honest.”
“Is that all? It was just a stupid fucking game.” Why would this matter? They had photos of Houston and me standing by each other? Big fucking deal.
“‘Is NFL bad boy, Cullen Atwood, playing games with Houston McRae’s heart? Is Cullen Atwood going to wreak havoc on the Rush? Cullen Atwood seduces Houston McRae for a spot on the team.’ And that’s not even the worst of the things online.”
