Page 78 of Playing to Win
Natalie studies me, slowly shaking her head. “He must have a magical dick.”
I burst out laughing. “He does.”
He’s my every freaking dream come true.
Too bad he’s off limits.
TWENTY-FOUR
ACE
For the nexttwo longest weeks of my goddamned life, I do my best to avoid Ruby Maguire as much as possible. I’m not a rude asshole toward her or anything like that, but I keep my distance. Try to remain respectful. We play our first home game Saturday afternoon and crush our opponents. It was fucking awesome. I went out later that night and we celebrated at Logan’s like we usually do and I had a great time with my teammates. My friends. We shut that shit down and ended up back at someone’s apartment, where I got even more shitfaced and turned down every single girl who approached me.
Literally every one of them.
The guys asked me if I was sick. Derek put his hand to my forehead and everything, the asshole. I’m not sick. Unless what I’m feeling for Ruby is some sort of disease.
Then I’m ill as fuck.
Same thing, different day, the following week. I’m busy with school and practice and strength training and keeping my elbow on ice because it’s been hurting like a bitch lately. Play the game on Saturday—gain another win—celebrate at Logan’s again. Turn down girls again.
It’s been over two weeks since I messed around with Ruby and I haven’t touched another girl. Thought about another girl. All I can think about is her. Her softly panting breaths in my ear. The sounds she makes when she’s coming. The flush that coats her skin when she’s aroused. The scent of her pussy. How wet she gets. How delicious she tastes.
Everywhere.
I’m a man obsessed and I see her almost every single day.
Every. Single. Day.
It’s wearing on me. I’ve jacked off so much I’m pretty sure I have calluses on my palm. Yet it doesn’t ease the incessant need building within me. The need for more Ruby.
Any way I can get her.
She’s avoiding me too. I can tell. She keeps her distance but isn’t cold or unfriendly. Nah, that’s what makes it worse. She flashes these pretty little smiles my way every time our gazes connect, which twists my gut into knots. The need to talk to her is strong. The urge to touch her is even stronger.
But I keep my distance because I am a man of my word and I’m not about to get her into trouble. Or get myself into trouble. Just having her nearby while I practice is good enough. Catching her gaze track my every move during practice?
Even better.
It’s a Thursday night and I’m at a bar that’s not Logan’s because I’m looking for a change of scenery. I came with Javier and Evan because we’ve grown closer and I like the way they’re not constantly looking for a woman to fuck. Javier is happily taken and completely in love with his girlfriend. Evan isn’t a complete manwhore, looking to get laid all the time, so I appreciate that about him. And then there’s me.
Holding out for a woman I technically can’t have until the end of the season.
I’m laying off the drinking too. Trying to keep a clear head and healthy body and my coaches, trainer and nutritionist are all praising me for staying on track. They have no clue I’ve been working out so much lately because I’m trying to work off all of the sexual frustration I’ve been dealing with.
It’s a lot.
We’re at a newer place downtown called Dirty Habit and it’s really cool. Lots of exposed brick and mood lighting. Plenty of seating and a giant bar counter with a variety of beers on tap. I’m only sipping on one beer because I’m the designated driver tonight and not in the mood to get drunk.
The place isn’t busy like Logan’s, but there’s a steady stream of people and it fills up quickly. To the point that I’m glad we got here when we did and nabbed a table before they all filled up.
Women drift over to our table and we chat them up. Always polite, though Javier rarely looks up from his phone when they’re talking to us. Almost like he’s afraid of them. I’m not interested in any of them, but I know I have to at least be polite. Gotta perform for the fans—and the fangirls.
“What’s your deal?” I ask Javier after yet another group of women stop by our table and he barely looks at them.
He sets his phone on the table, sending us a look that’s hard to read. “Just wait until you’re in a serious relationship. You won’t want to look at a single female who comes near you.”
“And why not? Shouldn’t your girlfriend feel confident and trust you completely?”
