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“We’re just fucking with you,” Gauge says, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, she’s a ten. If you don’t want to fuck her, I will.”
Remy gives him a high five.
I shake my head. “Over my dead body,” I mutter, jogging back into position for the next drill. Their taunts echo in my head, making it impossible to concentrate on the play. Dahlia is a beautiful distraction, but I’ve gotta get my head together if I’m going to endure her presence in my life. She’s a source of endless torment, both at home and on the field. The guys aren’t going to let this bet go and at home, she’s everywhere. Even after one day. As soon as I woke up this morning, my damn shorts were tented with an erection. The scent of her perfume lingered in the bathroom as I brushed my damn teeth.
As practice continues, I try to shake off the disruption of Dahlia’s perfect image in my mind. No matter how hard I push myself, no matter how many times I tackle or intercept the ball, Coach is never satisfied. And neither am I.
The sun dips lower in the sky, creating extended shadows that stretch across the field, signaling that practice is nearly over.
An electric current of awareness hums along my skin and I turn my gaze towards the bleachers, and I spot her. Dahlia with that dork, Lauren, who is always lingering around taking pictures for the school’s website. Dahlia’s pale blonde hair shimmers like a halo around her head. She’s oblivious to the rest of the world. Her attention is on her phone screen. She’s probably texting that pussy boyfriend of hers.
I checked out his Instagram last night. Dude is a real poser.
“Isn’t that sweet? Your cousin came to support you.” Remy elbows me in the side as we huddle around the water cooler for a quick break. “You give any thought to the bet? Still planning to get into her panties this weekend?”
“Fuck off,” I snap, shooting him an irritated glare. I look back at the bleachers, noticing Dahlia’s eyes on us. I shoot her a glare too, reveling in the way she squirms under my gaze, shifting from foot to foot with a nervous energy that only fuels my desire to stare at her harder.
“You fuck sticks coming to the party?” Blake interjects with a sly grin. “The Romos twins are throwing a massive one after the game tomorrow. You guys in?”
“Wouldn’t fucking miss it.” Gauge shoots Remy a look as he claps Blake on the shoulder. “But there better be beer this time.”
“You think we should invite Dahlia and her goofy ass friend?” Remy questions as his gaze flicks back to where the pair of them stand on the sidelines near the edge of the bleachers. His tone is playful, but there’s an edge to it that makes me stiffen.
“Leave her out of your bullshit.” My knuckles go white as I clench my fists. If I’d known Dahlia was Kipling’s niece, I never would have marked her for one of our twisted games. Even if I can’t help but fantasize about how she’d look down on her knees in one of her little skirts with her mouth open to take my cock between her plump lips.
“Don’t be such a wuss puss. I’m trying to help you out. You don’t win the money if we don’t witness you fuck her. That is, unless you want to call it off like a chickenshit.”
Remy snorts at Gauge’s bullshit, rolling his eyes. They both know I’ve never reneged on a bet.
“Relax. I’m still fucking with you. Lighten up, will you?”
“Whatever,” I relent, forcing a laugh. “Just don’t let Coach hear you talking about anything other than football, or we’ll all be running laps until we puke.”
“Deal,” they agree in unison. We focus on the remaining minutes of practice, each lost in our own thoughts, as we push our bodies to the limit to make Coach happy.
As I sprint across the field, my thoughts drift back to my pretty little doll. How vulnerable she is. How gorgeous she turned out. Most of all the intoxicating power that comes from knowing I can make her squirm with merely a glance. I know I’m playing a dangerous game with her. One that threatens to consume me if I’m not more careful. As I catch another glimpse of her smiling, I have no doubt this will be a game I won’t be able to resist, no matter the cost.
“Alright. Bring it in.” Coach goes through his pep talk for tomorrow night’s game, but none of it registers. I’m too caught up in my thoughts about Dahlia. My latest distraction and obsession. “That’s it for today,” he yells, ending practice.
I let out a sigh of relief that Coach doesn’t call me into his office to ride my ass about my poor performance as my friends and I gather our gear after we’ve hit the showers.
“Man, I’m starving,” Remy complains, wiping the beads of water off his brow with the back of his hand. “Burgers?”
“Fuck yes,” Blake chimes in, tossing his dirty towels into a basket. “Let’s hit up Retro’s.”
“Sounds good,” I agree, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Dahlia from my mind. As we make our way towards the parking lot, I spot her sliding into Lauren’s car. Her gaze meets mine and I shoot her a wink that earns me a scowl.
We enter Retro’s, and the mouth-watering aroma of greasy food immediately assaults my senses. As usual, the place is packed, but we manage to find an empty booth near the back. The dining area is dimly lit, with vintage posters from movies released in the 80s and early 90s decorating the walls. I prefer the atmosphere over Monkey Mike’s and they have better arcade games. The classics like Pac-Man and Frogger. My favorite is Mortal Kombat.
“Onion petals?” Gauge suggests, already reaching for a menu.
“Better make it two. I’m famished,” Remy says with a nod, stealing a glance at his phone.
“I think I want cheese sticks.” I place my menu back in the holder.
As we wait for our server, I find my gaze wandering around the bustling burger joint. Fuck. Britney and Taylor are here. They’re seated on the opposite side of the room, giggling, and sharing a plate of cheesy fries. Hopefully, they are about to leave, since it looks like their plate is nearly empty.
The door bell chimes, and I glance in that direction to see Lauren stroll in followed by Dahlia. Their presence catches me off guard, and I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I figured she’d go straight home like a good girl. I gulp as she struts through the room in her skirt, the short fabric riding up her thighs as she swishes her hips. She joins some of Lauren’s geek friends at a table on the opposite side of the dining room.
