Craved By Lust (Sinful Seven #1)

10. Post Game Sorrows

Chapter 10

Post Game Sorrows

JESSICA

I look over to see Duval throw a Hail Mary to Tek, but before I see it leave his hand, some mother fucker steamrolls me, knocking me flat on my ass and sending the wind flying from me. FUCK!

From the distance, I hear the crowd shout but fuck that. What matters is the loud and grating sound of the whistle in my ear, making me grit my teeth and shove the big mother fucker off. He just smiles cockily and runs backward to his team.

I snatch off my helmet, glancing up at the score, heartbroken. We lost…

Panting in disbelief, I fist my hands in anguish because this game should have been in the bag. I just stand there, throat dry, staring as the crowds filter off the stands and my team glide somberly by me. I place my hands on my knees, looking up, and out of the corner of my eye, I see pale blondish white hair, and my heart sinks further. Wait! Frank?!

I do a double take, eyes roaming over the stands, but it must have been a figment of my imagination. Of course, Frank wouldn’t be here… but what isn’t my imagination is my mom’s shocked face and my dad holding his head, looking grief-stricken. Shit… I’m not going to hear the end of this tonight…

I look at the turf, sweating, feeling like at any moment, I’ll break. I take a step forward, but my right calf is on fucking fire right now… I must have strained it when that big mother fucker steamrolled me. I feel a pat on my back and look up to see Tek standing there with his bandana on, breathing hard.

“Come on, Jess.” He gently takes my arm and places it over his shoulder, helping me limp towards the lockers as I see we are now the only players standing in the middle of the field.

When we enter, the entire team is sitting with their heads down, and no one says a word. Hell, even Duval has his head back with a damp towel on his face. Tek and I take a seat just as the coach walks in and sighs.

“Good job, you guys,” he leads. “You all played a good game.” He claps, and him saying that makes the loss hurt more. “I know there were a few individual mistakes on the field, but I don’t want you guys to think about that right now. What I want you to focus on is this loss. This loss represents lack of unity, lack of spirit, and lack of respect for your teammates,” he voices passionately, and I hold in the tear, ignoring the pang in my chest. “You guys let this loss burn in you. Let’s not let this happen again, got it?”

“Got it, Coach,” we shout half-heartedly.

“No, I asked if you fucking got it!” He puts a bit more bass in his voice and we sit up straight.

“GOT IT, COACH!” we shout, this time with feeling.

“Good. Now wash up,” he tells us and we all stand, and Tek and I go to file out side by side.

“You know I’m sorry for yesterday,” he speaks and I bump his shoulder.

“Of course. You don’t have to keep saying it,” I chuckle, and he frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“How are you feeling? I hit you pretty hard trying to get to that bastard,” he grumbles and I shrug.

“I’m good. All better, see?” I smile bright and his eyes go wide, blinking before he stops.

“Jessica, I want to ask… that girl… or I mean guy… or whatever the hell they are… what are they to you?” he frowns, asking about Frank, and I cock my head to the side, wondering how to answer him.

“Frank is my friend.” I mean… he is…

“I’m your friend, and you don’t do any of that stuff with me,” he raises a brow, shocking me, and I laugh awkwardly, shaking my head.

“What are you talking about, Tek? You’re not my friend. You’re like family to me, my best teammate...”

“But I want to be your bo?—”

“JEEEEESSSSSIIIIIICCCCCCAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!” I hear on the side of me and turn to see a tiny fluffball of bright ass pink barreling towards me before it leaps into my arms.

“Faythe, what the heck are you doing here?!” I hug my best friend before setting her tiny five-foot-one self down. I gape at her in awe as she stands there, decked all out in her alternate Hello Kitty attire, looking like an overzealous darkskin Black barbie doll. Damn, she and Frank would get along good as hell.

“I know you didn’t think I would miss your game and a chance to see you!” She places a small hand on her hip, cheesing hard.

“I honestly didn’t even think about it. You’re getting ready to move, so I thought you would be too busy to attend,” I let her know. “But I’m so damn happy you came,” I smile, though I wish she would have gotten to witness me winning.

“Me too, it was so fun! You did amazing out there,” I snort, and Tek clears his throat. Oh shoot.

“Oh Faythe, this is my friend Tek. He’s always looking out for me at school. Tek, this is my best friend from high school, Faythe. She might dress like this, but she packs a real punch,” I joke.

“Hey! Well, you’re not wrong,” she chuckles, holding her hand out to Tek, and he shakes it.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Faythe beams before turning her attention back to me. “Well, I wish I could stay, but my dad told me I have to finish packing.” She rolls her eyes, and I frown.”

“Damn, how are you feeling?” I ask, and she pauses and shrugs.

“I’m not the happiest to be moving in the final few months of my senior year, but what can I say? I want my dad to be happy, and it’s not like you and Bebe are there anymore, so it’s all good,” she smiles, and I can tell she means it.

“Okay, I get it. I’m not going to hold you up, but thanks for coming and call me when you can so we can talk,” I hug her again but not too much since I still need a shower. However, Faythe doesn’t give a damn about none of that and pulls me into a big hug, squeezing tight.

“It was so good to see you, Jess,” she pauses and pulls back. “Oh, and I’m proud of you.” She kisses my cheek beaming, and I choke up, watching her wave and leave.

“Whoa… she’s got a lot of energy,” Tek sighs on the side of me and I chuckle.

“Oh, you don’t know half of it. She’s a real mother duck. She loves caring for and giving to the people she loves. Faythe is the sweetest, but she can be a bit much at times,” I chuckle.

“I somehow do not find that hard to believe,” he laughs and we continue on until we get to the showers. I go to walk off, but he holds me back. “Jess, tonight… do you have any plans?” I think on it and nod.

“I’m going to visit my parents while here. Why?” He searches my face then lets me go.

“Then… when we get home, no… after the big game... uhm.. if we win… how about you come over to my place? I want to tell you something important,” he stammers and I raise a brow but smile.

“And if we don’t win then, what? You’re not going to tell me?”

“Exactly,” he smirks and I chuckle.

“Okay, bet.” I hold out my hand to him and he takes it, shaking it. I walk off to my separate shower, which I’m thankful my coach fought for, and peel off my uniform and wash the weight of the loss off me… or well, at least I try to.

I make sure to clean my piercings that I changed out for smaller, more malleable replacements so they don’t affect my athletic capabilities and sigh. I want to go home… no if I’m honest, I want to see Frank. I miss him…

Hell, I miss him so much that I thought I smelled his familiar scent of expensive cologne and cough drops when I woke up this morning. I have never had a friend like him, but there’s no telling if he’s even going to want to continue to be my friend after I get back, considering I’ve been ignoring his calls and texts.

I turn off the shower, dry off, and quickly change. I unzip the duffle he gave me, smiling as I take out the meal replacement shake and chug it down. I should text him when I get back to the hotel. Damn… why did I choose to leave my phone?

Whatever. I’m sure Frank will understand. He’s always there for me. We are like two peas in a pod. Oddballs for life type shit. This won’t be the thing that makes him stop talking to me.

After I put on my shoes, I leave the locker room and make my way outside, where I see my mom and dad waiting.

“Mom! Dad!” I limp over and give them a hug. Though they look anything but happy, I’m grateful they are pretending, even if only for a little bit.

“There’s my girl,” my dad chuckles, swinging me around, and my mom hugs me tight.

“I miss you guys,” I tell them, meaning every word.

“We missed you too,” my mom takes my hand and helps me over to the car like I’m handicapped or some shit, but I don’t say anything. Nothing I say will change the earful I’m about to get. In the backseat, I answer their questions as they drive us to a spot close to the hotel so we can have dinner.

Since we already had reservations, it takes no time to be seated, but it feels awkward because the criticism is coming. In three… two… one….

“So, how are you, Jess?” my dad asks and I repress a sigh. Yup, right on time. I shrug, bracing myself.

“I fine, Dad. Why?”

“Well,” he pauses and takes out his napkin, looking me over with a frown. “I was just wondering… you looked a little sloppy out there today,” he voices and my heart skips.

“Yeah, I know. The team was?—”

“Jess, I’m not talking about the team. I’m talking about you,” he huffs, and I sit back, closing my eyes.

“Dad,” I groan, not in the mood for this.

“No, Jess, don’t dad me. You’re my daughter, and I love that you want to play football, but… seeing my little girl get tackled like that is hard. I think it’s time you hang it up an?—”

“It was one bad game, and you know better than anyone getting tackled is just a part of the game. I?—”

“Yeah, it’s part of the game, but I know targeting when I see it Jess, and they were targeting the weakest link,” he grumbles.

“No, they were targeting what they thought was the weakest link. I played well, I jus?—”

“I don’t care, Jess! I don’t want to see it anymore,” he seethes, and I sit back, deflating just as the server awkwardly places the food in front of us.

“Dad, would you be saying this to me if I were a boy?” I grit through my teeth.

“No, I would be patting you on the back and telling you good game, but you are not a boy, you are my daughter. My little girl… my sweetheart, and your old man is tired,” he tells me honestly and I swallow, but my throat is closed up.

I told Frank a lie… I told him that my dad supported me, but he doesn’t… at least not fully.

“Dad, I love football. I?—”

“Then what about flag football?” he interrupts me as he pulls out brochures to numerous colleges that scouted me to play on their women’s football teams and spreads them out in front of me. “There are plenty of teams where girls are doing amazing things! Not only that, but according to the records, it’s the fastest-growing sport in the country. Plus, look at this! They are called the Powderpuffs. How adorable!”

“Dad, I don’t want to be a Powerpuff. I want to play football with the gu?—”

“Think about it!” he cuts me off, banging his hand against the table, making my mom jump. I sit still because I won’t let anyone, not even my dad, see me stumble. Still, as he slides the brochures closer to my hand on the table, I peek at them, seeing all the beautiful women smiling and holding up footballs and pictures of them running. It’s not bad, but…

“Fine.” I take them and place them in the duffle Frank packed me. “I’ll look them over, Dad,” I smile, and the mood in the table lightens as my mom, who seemed to be holding in a breath, places her hand on her chest, smiling bright as if she’s heard the best news in the world.

“Why, this is wonderful news!” She claps excitedly. “Come now, let’s set this aside and eat.” She holds out her hands and my dad and I take one each, as she says grace. Still, I feel no peace… not even a bit.

Waving goodbye to my parents, I amble up to my room after saying hi to a few of my teammates hanging in the lounge and fall onto the bed, thinking about today. How could it have gone so shitty? I really do just want to go back home and— Frank!

Leaping up from the bed, I go over to my phone on the nightstand and pick it up, expecting to see a million and one texts and calls from him. However, I reel back, eyes opening when I see none after his good morning text, which I didn’t respond to. What?

I click on the message and make sure I didn’t accidentally block him or that my phone isn’t off, but it can’t be because Faythe texted me soon after I saw her.

Frowning, I click on our thread and quickly type out a message.

The One : Hey, sorry for not messaging you back. My head was in the game.

The One : Are you busy?

I wait for a second because Frank usually responds to me in no time, but I have to sit down when five minutes pass and nothing.

I stare at the phone again, checking the battery, but the service and everything is fine.

The One : Okay I guess you’re busy just text or hit me up when you have time.

I type out, send, and set the phone on the nightstand with the intention of setting it and forgetting it, but I scoop it right back on up, and my heart thuds in my ears. Why isn’t he messaging me back?

Feeling a bit off, I slide out of our text thread and pull up his Insta.

We’d exchanged social media handles on the first night we met, but I never bothered looking at his because I’m not really a social media type. I might post a picture of my jersey or food or something, but not much else beyond that. However, I see that Frank is different… vastly different.

His social media is popping! He’s got all types of girls on his pages, cute ones of all different shapes, sizes, races, ethnicities and demographics. All of them comment on his pictures even though he doesn’t post much outside of how he dresses. He usually dresses as a girl… a hot girl, but a girl nonetheless. Whoa… I find a few of him dressed as a guy, but it’s one where he’s dressed as a girl holding his finger to his lip with the caption “Call me Daddy,” but he looks sleeker and more refined, and my stomach dips and pussy clenches. Damn…

In his pictures, he’s not even showing his full face, but just the bit you can see, he’s fine as hell, and based on the comments on all his pictures, I’m not the only one who thinks so.

User 67935: Damn, you’re so fucking fine!

Bigtittykitty: Come here I’m tryna see something

Naurtoswife: Yassss! You make me question my sexuality. I love it here!

Blasiandoll97: I don’t care if you want me to call you big mama or big papa just let me call you something

I click away from the comments, feeling sick because there are thousands of them and I do mean THOUSANDS under each damn picture. But there’s a bit of consolation in the fact that the only person he follows is me… even though I don’t have much on my page. The fact that he’s so popular still makes my stomach dip. He’s got over three million followers. What the fuck? How the hell do this many people know him?

I throw the phone down, somehow feeling sick, and my chest tightens. I close my eyes tight, trying to rid myself of this frustratingly depressing emotion, but it remains. My lip wobbles, but I bite it to keep from erupting. Nope, we like Elsa in this mother fucker. I crawl into bed, not even bothering to change, and close my eyes, willing myself to sleep. Conceal don’t feel… let that shit go.