[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
74 Anitra Lynn McLeod
problem. Ah, who was he kidding? Mitch had never been good at
hardening his heart.
We re gonna hit the pizza place.
Sounds good. Mitch joined right in on the conversation about
the ass kicking they intended to deliver on the gridiron tomorrow.
There was nothing Mitch enjoyed more than trash talking the other
team to build up his team s spirit. Tonight, it served the dual purpose
of pumping them up and allowing him to blot out Dustin from his
mind.
The pizza place was warm, mostly empty of people, but filled with
the smell of hot cheese and cold beer. As a group, they snagged the
enormous corner booth, ordered four different pies and three pitchers
of beer.
By his third beer, Mitch realized he was quite literally trying to
drown his sorrows. As much as he wanted to forget Dustin, he wanted
to be in prime shape for his team tomorrow, so he forwent anymore
beer. Like all the guys, he ate his share of pizza, and then they ordered
brownies, which were possibly the best brownies Mitch had ever had.
Feeling almost too full, they paid their tab, left a generous tip, then
walked back to the motel. As Mitch passed Dustin s room, his heart
gave a little pull, but he knew he wasn t in there. The room key had
been left on the desk, and that s right where Mitch had left it, too.
Mitch went to his assigned room, slipped into some sweats, tossed
himself into bed, and proceeded to stare at the ceiling for a good hour
before sleep finally came and pulled him in.
* * * *
They were awakened by Dylan Peterson banging on the door and
telling them to get their shit together and get in the bus within twenty
minutes.
Everyone was on the bus in time.
First they went and had breakfast, and then they piled back on the
Wide Receiver 75
bus to drive over to the school where they filed out and suited up.
While they ate breakfast, Danny Jones, the equipment manager,
was already at the school unloading their gear. Basically, all Mitch
and his teammates had to do was show up, get dressed, and go. Danny
ran their gear so slick he made their lives easy.
And thinking of Danny sparked another memory. That curious
way Danny had peeked around the seat edge to smile at Mitch
replayed in his mind. What was that secretive little grin of Danny s all
about? Had he known Mitch and Dustin were fooling around? How
could he when he was almost in the center of the seats? Moreover,
why in the world would Danny care one way or the other? The
curiosity gnawed at Mitch and gave his brain something to focus on
other than Dustin.
Mitch had lucked out and suffered no ill effects from his slight
overconsumption the night before. His heart still hurt, his emotions
were a jumble, but his body was ready. All he had to do was get his
head in the game. That usually happened automatically when he was
decked in his gear and saw the opposing team. Just the thought of
taking his aggressions out on the Lone Pine Wolves put him in a fine
mood.
Damn, dude, you look ready to kill! Kyle Water clapped him on
the back. Everyone called him Water because the man did run deep at
times.
I am! As Mitch got on the bus, his gaze went to the backseat,
and he quickly looked away. Mitch sat down next to Water, who
seemed as in need of distraction as Mitch did, so they yakked it up all
the way to the school and all while they were gearing up in the locker
room.
Whoa, dude. Water looked down, and Mitch followed his gaze.
Oh, yeah, that. A simultaneous burst of pride and sadness made
Mitch unsure how he actually felt.
Yeah, that. Water leaned near. Who the fuck wrote on your
dick?
76 Anitra Lynn McLeod
It was a joke that got a little out of hand.
Water laughed. What does it say?
Property of Dustin Brooks.
Who is that? Kyle glanced around the locker room.
He isn t a member of the team.
Oh. Obviously sensing Mitch s reluctance to talk, Water backed
off. The man did run deep, but he also ran wise. He wasn t going to
push Mitch anywhere he clearly didn t want to go. Water wanted his
head in the game, and that was right where Mitch was determined to
get.
As he dressed, Mitch thought about the writing on his dick and
that as upset and confused as he was, Mitch was still determined to
honor the deal he d struck with Dustin. Until that writing wore off,
Mitch wasn t doing anything with his dick until Dustin gave him
permission.
A very snarky idea filled his head. Mitch imagined himself ready
to penetrate another guy and calling Dustin for permission, just to rub
it in. But the idea fell apart effortlessly since there wasn t anyone
Mitch wanted to put his dick in except Dustin. Moreover, Mitch
couldn t call Dustin when he had no cell phone. Which was another
clear indicator that Dustin lived on next to nothing because damn near
everyone had a cell phone nowadays.
Was that what drove him away?
What? Water asked.
Nothing. Sorry. I m running plays in my head.
Good man. Water clapped him on the back then left for a more
spacious area to put on his shoulder pads.
Mitch pondered this new idea while he layered himself in gear.
Was Dustin so mortified by his shabby state he d bailed rather than
explain? But that didn t make sense. Mitch hadn t needled him or
made any overtures about money or anything remotely close. Well,
except for offering to replace the underwear and jeans he d ruined.
Stop! Mitch snarled at himself. You re tying yourself up in
Wide Receiver 77
knots over something that you have no control over!
Yeah, you give yourself what for! Derek Simmons bellowed
from the other side of the lockers.
Blow me, Derek! Mitch shouted over the row of lockers that
separated them.
Whip it out, Mitch! Derek returned.
Hey! Brandon interjected. You re not blowing anyone but me!
All of you shut the hell up, gear up, and get out on the fucking
field for warm-up! Coach s snarling baritone effectively ended all the
banter in the locker room.
On his way out to the field, Derek came up behind him. So did
you get yourself in line?
I think so. Mitch grinned. Still willing to go down if I whip it
out?
Naw. I m not into autoerotic asphyxiation.
Up went Mitch s eyebrows as the joke went right over his head.
Everyone knows you have the biggest dick on the team, Derek
said. Sucking your cock pretty much guarantees the person doing the
sucking will choke.
Fuck. Mitch chuckled and shook his head. When did everyone
compare dick sizes?
Every time we re naked in the shower, Derek said, flicking his
platinum-blond hair out of his eyes. Hello? It s a group of guys!
What do you think everyone is checking each other out for irregular
moles? We re dudes, not dermatologists!
Mitch really hadn t given it much thought.
Yeah, and with the head of your dick bouncing between your
knees, you obviously won the big dick award. Derek slapped Mitch s
back.
Shit! Mitch shook his head. It s big, but it does not bounce
between my knees.
Okay, maybe not that long, but close.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
