“No, don’t,” I blurted. “It will just make it worse.”
“Okay, but you should.”
I felt myself biting down on my lip, trying to keep from smiling. Someone wanted to stick up for me, wanted me to stick up for myself. It was a heady feeling, and one I’d never experienced before.
Hoping I wasn’t glowing at his attention, I said, “I have to get back to this shit.”
Blane laughed. “I love the way you swear. You may be tiny, but your mouth is mighty.”
He tossed the bag in the air, and I caught it.
“Don’t forget to give that mouth some sustenance,” he called out as he moved his foot from the door and walked away.
“Thanks,” I called back, hoping my voice carried out the closing door.
I sank to the floor, holding a hand to my chest as I blew out a long breath.
“What was that all about?” I whispered to myself.
Lord if I know.
Blane
I wasn’t sure what compelled me to pop in and visit Cate at work—or why I gave her a nickname. Her name was Caterina, not Cate.
As I ran the track around the football stadium, my hair flopped into my eyes again. I cursed as I ran my hand through it, shoving it back before wiping the sweat from my forehead. Where the heck was my sweatband?
It was Tuesday, and it was a miracle I’d made it all of five whole days of celibacy without pulling my dick straight off my body from all the jacking off.
As I pumped my arms and my feet slapped a rhythm around the track, my mind kept wandering to Cate. Something about that chick challenged me, and I liked it. Maybe it was the whole not-getting-laid mandate. Forbidden fruit and all that.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
I slowed my pace as I rounded the track so I could bring my shirt up to wipe my face, and spotted one of my football buddies coming from the tunnel.
“If it isn’t the Stealer!” Toots hollered. “What are you doing? Working off some sexual tension?” He headed my way as I stopped to cool down.
Toots was a senior and was Hafton’s second-string quarterback. His arm wasn’t good enough to get him into the NFL, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He loved football and the benefits that came with it, especially since he wasn’t all that good-looking. But football wasn’t his life. He was majoring in accounting and enjoying having a beautiful woman, despite his pockmarked face.
“Is my sex life all anyone can talk about?” I leaned over my knees and tried to breathe through my nose.
“Nah. That’s mine. The ladies can’t seem to stop talking about me and my shlong.”
“Shut the fuck up, Toots. We all know you’re a one-woman guy. Berit would have your balls on a skewer if she knew you talked like that.”
Toots laughed and brushed back his shaggy brown hair. “Seriously, what’s up? What’re you doing in my neck of the woods?”
I stood up straight, breathing deeply. “Got a lot on my mind. Whole place is talking about the ’ship. I know we’re a team, but I’m feeling a lot of pressure to carry the load. Plus, I got the added bullshit of whether to enter the draft.”
“I hear you, man. But you’ve got what a lot of us will never see. A future doing what you love.”
I nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know. One week, you feel like you’re an invincible college dude, and the next, you’re an adult. And fucking Sonny took away my one stress reliever, the little shit.” I laughed out the last part, trying to lighten up the conversation.
Toots shook his head. “You’re the one who’s dumb enough to be friends with him. You know he always pushes the limits. He’s a cock-blocking shock jock.”
“Cock-blocking shock jock. Try saying that three times fast!” My laughter ripped through the empty stadium, echoing off the bleachers. “Think he can he put that on his résumé?”
Toots laughed with me, his large frame shaking.
I slapped him on the back and said, “I’m outta here. Catch you soon.”
Toots headed in the other direction to start his run as I jogged out the side entrance and down the hill to the field house. Coach would tear me a new one if I was late to work out.
I left the field house a couple of hours later, my hair still damp from the shower, dripping a little on my Hafton sweatshirt. My phone buzzed, and I slid my hand into my back pocket to pull out my phone, curious as to who the hell was bothering me.
“Hi, Mom,” I said. “How you doing?”
“I’m good, baby. How are you?” A rustling came over the line, and her voice muffled a little as if she was speaking away from the phone. “Slow down, Rocky!”
“What are you doing, Mom?”
“I’m walking the dogs, and Rocky is chasing after some pretty piece of Rottweiler. Rocky!” My mom kept shouting the dog’s name, and I was forced to hold the phone away from my ear.