Ethan Dexter, or Dex as everyone calls him, plays center, my right hand, ultimate look out, and the last man standing between me being flattened by hungry linemen. I love this guy and am not ashamed to admit it.
I make my way to him, stepping over the legs of the woman now kneeling before Gray, her head bobbing up and down in rhythmic fashion. Holy hell, I do not want to witness that. Some things can never be unseen.
“Who the fuck arranged for a full service performance?” I ask Dex, as I stand next to him. “That was not part of the deal.”
Dex crosses his beefy arms over his chest. “Simms. The little fucker.”
Simms, who is a massive defensive end, is also getting some personalized service. I turn away and fish a water out of the fridge. “Let them finish off, and then the girls are out of here.” I take a long swallow and grimace. “I don’t give a shit if it’s Gray’s birthday, I don’t need to see all of that.” Never mind that if we get caught, we’re in deep shit. Not by the police. It’s a sad truth that we’re so revered by this town, this state, that we can get away with anything short of murder. And some days, I wonder about even that. No, I’m talking about Coach. Who doesn’t put up with any shit.
Dex grunts. His face is flushed and his mouth pinched. If there’s one thing that I know about Dex, it’s his intense dislike of exhibitionism. He’s never gone for casual sex. For all I know, he might be pulling a Tebow and is still a virgin. “Why not stop them now?”
“Seems cruel to stop a guy in mid…” I shrug, not wanting to finish that statement.
But I’ve made Dex blush harder.
“You can go if you want,” I offer. “I can clear them out on my own.”
Dex shakes his head and grabs his own water, chugging it down in two gulps. He slams the empty bottle down and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Naw, I’m not doing that to you, man. Can you imagine any girlfriend being okay with this?”
Despite my foul mood, a smile tugs at my mouth. Anna would probably go into a tirade about the objectification of women and how such paid services dehumanize both sexes. She’d be right, but then she’s never had to deal with a whiny Gray before.
Pride. It washes over me with warm satisfaction when I think of Anna. And then it promptly flushes away, leaving me cold, because I want Anna to meet Dex and the rest of them. Which seems like it will never happen. She’d balk at the idea. Then again, she came to my practice today. She sought me out for basic comfort.
The warmth returns. Strange how much satisfaction I got just from taking the hurt out of her eyes and replacing it with happiness. When I think of her asswad absentee father, who I’d personally like to pound into a stain on the turf, and of her mother’s roving hands boyfriend, Anna’s reluctance to make a deeper connection becomes clearer. Whereas I grew up seeing firsthand what a loving, committed relationship can be, she likely hasn’t got a clue.
“You got a woman, Dex?”
Dex studies the cabinets before him as though they hold the secret of life. “I was just thinking out loud.”
“Doesn’t sound like it.” I take a drink and try to hide my smile. “Sounds like you’re afraid of what a specific girl might think.” Which would make two of us.
“There was a girl.” The corners of Dex’s eyes crease, like he’s caught between a smile and a grimace. “She didn’t like football. And what could I say to that?”
I sympathize.
“Said we were just boys in oversized bodies.”
“Well, sometimes we are,” I mutter. “But, isn’t every guy at some point or another?”
“You know it’s going to be worse when we go Prime Time. Take all of this,” Dex jerks his chin toward the living room, “add a shit-ton of money to it, and see what mess comes out.”