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“No,” Ethan says with a deep sigh. “No, it’s not alright.”
I’m silent as a troubled look goes through his face. “It was my fault. I saw you play and I saw how exhausted you got by the end of the game,” Ethan say. “I couldn’t hold them back. I couldn’t shut them down.”
Ethan’s shoulders slump.
My nemesis since I’ve been six years old is defeated. The one kid who was able to always stand up to me when we played peewee football in our small Texas town is broken. The one kid who didn’t care that his father worked for mine on the ranch is now giving me a vacant fucking stare. The one guy in high school who I had to share the MVP award with on our football team. The only other person in the history of our high school who had their jersey retired. The one guy who was good enough for Delta Sigma Rho - the most prestigious secret society at Ole Miss to offer two spots and not one to someone from the football team. The one guy who was drafted with me. Who has played across from me. Who was used with me in tandem by the Dallas Devils to take us to victory time after time after time.
He’s standing before me now.
Defeated.
“I’m so sorry, man,” Ethan says and I can’t bear to see him like this.
I don’t know why I do what I do and what the fuck I’m doing but I take a couple steps over to him.
“It’s like my head isn’t in the fucking game,” he says more to himself than to me. “I can’t stop thinking about…”
He stops himself and I know at that moment that the same thoughts going through in my head - those same thoughts that are distracting me during my game - are wreaking all holy hell in his head also. Except with defense, loss of concentration can destroy a team from its underbelly.
I know Ethan well enough by now to know that he’s thinking and kicking himself about what we did. He’s not like me. Anything goes with me. But not him. He had a crazy ass dad that fucked up his brain. I gotta bring the motherfucker back before he loses himself in despair.
Before he starts viewing what happened with the three of us as something bad.
“Hey,” I say softly and Ethan looks up.
I’m inches from the dude. I can smell him - his cologne - and I inhale deeply.
Fuck, this guy pisses me the fuck off.
He’s everything that I want to be. He’s solid. Stable.
He doesn’t need to try to be the center of attention. When he walks in the room, he has a fucking gravitas that attracts everything in it to him.
My hand reaches over and I bring it to his chest.
Ethan draws a sharp breath and looks at me.
My eyes meet his and we lock our gazes.
I’m not breaking this stare. Let’s see if he does.
Let’s see how far this fucking goes.
I bring my hand down and trace my finger down his abs before descending to his crotch.
I can feel his pubes on my hand and in a second, not even having to look down, I feel his cock.
Fuck I’m fucking hard.
I grab his cock in my hand and squeeze it.
He wanted me to be real? He wanted me to be genuine.
Let’s make this fucking real.
17
Ethan
