AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Who the fuck knew?
At the time, I’d told myself it was because Whitt had dismissed me the night of Christmas Eve, and yeah, while having the last word had been fucking great, there was more to it than that.
It was how much I’d wanted to possess him, how much I really expected him to save his hole for me, that even back then had been fucking with my brain.
Time hadn’t dulled that shit.
I just needed to fuck him and be done with it, but I wasn’t making any moves to enable that to happen either.
God, I hated him.
Only I didn’t.
Point proven by the fact that we were in the locker room after our first practice of the season with our new wide receiver, Cullen Atwood, and while he was going back and forth with Baby G and Ramsey, all I kept thinking was how much of a cocky motherfucker Atwood was, which reminded me of a certain someone who wouldn’t be named. Atwood had been traded for Nance, who I couldn’t say I would miss. He’d always been a dick but showed his true homophobic colors last season when Garrett was an out and proud bi man. It had only gotten worse since the whole world knew G and Ramsey were together, so basically, the trash had been taken out.
I wasn’t sure about Atwood yet, though. He was a dream receiver on the field, but his life outside of it was a mess. He’d been known to party and get into a lot of trouble. He was a hothead, and that wasn’t something that me or Rams would deal with on our team. I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and not judge him yet, though.
I stepped closer to the trio, ready to get my thoughts off Patrick and onto shit that mattered, just as Garrett said to Atwood, “I’d offer to hang right now, but football gets me horny, so I’m gonna take Ramsey home and let him score on me.”
I groaned, less because of what Garrett said and more because I wanted to score on someone, too, and the innocent comment just reminded me of that. “They do this all the time,” I told Atwood.
“Says the guy who has my boyfriend’s hand up in his ass?” Garrett replied.
Jesus fucking Christ. Only Baby G.
I ignored his comment and let Ramsey deal with him, the two of them both trying to tackle each other in the middle of the locker room.
Ramsey got the best of him before the couple said goodbye and headed out. Atwood glanced around, almost looking lost for a second, like he wasn’t sure quite what to do with himself. I’d been lucky enough to be with the Rush since my rookie year. I’d never had to be the new guy, coming in after the preseason on an already formed team, and considering he’d publicly come out when he got caught with a guy a few months ago, I figured things hadn’t been real easy on him. “I’ll walk out with you,” I told Atwood.
“Thanks,” he replied.
With my bag on my shoulder, the two of us made our way to the door. We didn’t talk for a moment, so I tried to think of something to say to engage with him. “You ready for our first game this weekend?”
“You know it.”
“Heard you’re a bit of a cocky SOB.” I mean, it was the truth. We might as well put it out there. That wasn’t unique in the NFL. Hell, I was a cocky SOB myself.
So is Patrick.
Motherfucker!
“Aren’t we all?” Atwood replied.
Yeah, I figured we would be alright. As long as he focused on football and didn’t get into trouble, there was no reason he wouldn’t be an asset to the team. Either way, he was better than Nance. “You got that right, man. What’s your number?” Atwood read off his digits to me, and I sent him a text so he would have mine.
We talked for another minute, me scrolling Instagram as we did. A photo popped up of Whitt with his arm around a beautiful redheaded woman, making my gut clench. Who the fuck was that?
Why do you care?
Atwood asked about getting some food, and I rumbled out a BS excuse, my brain still too occupied with pap photos of Patrick with someone who could be his fucking aunt for all I knew. Sure, a sexy aunt who was younger than him, but it was possible.
The second I was in my SUV, I pulled up Bougie in my text messages.
Me:You still savin’ that ass for me?
I hit Send with a smile, then tossed my cell to the passenger seat and drove toward Andre’s house, my little brother in the at-risk, youth program. We still tried to get together as much as possible. It was always enough, in my opinion, but being in the NFL didn’t always make everything easy.
Andre was waiting outside of his apartment when I pulled up. He jumped into the car with a wide smile and some books in his lap.
