2. Let’s Do It Again
2
LET’S DO IT AGAIN
Gunnar
Boom.
One million followers.
In the locker room after a game against the Seattle Storm Chasers, I flash my phone at my teammates Zane and Declan. Between us, we kill it on the San Francisco Dragons’ lineup and on the field. Declan’s the shortstop, Zane mans first, and I handle the hot corner like a badass.
“Check this out. You wish you had my following,” I tell them.
Declan rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag from his stall. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want—a massive social media following. Not the thirty home runs I already have this season,” the shortstop says.
Zane echoes the dismissal. “Or the sponsorship deal I just got.”
I scoff, grabbing my shirt from the stall, but then—fuck it. Why do I need a picture with a shirt on? We just won the game. I clobbered in a three-run homer. Fans like pictures of me with my shirt off. So I snap a selfie in front of my stall, grinning a little wickedly.
“Bet I get a fuck-ton of likes on this,” I say, admiring it like the cocky fucker I am.
“And what are you going to do with all of those likes?” Zane asks.
“Um. Hello? Pretty sure Seductive Cologne doesn’t mind the shirtless pics. Nor does my bathing suit sponsor,” I say, pulling on my shirt. Probably crazy to think the guy I danced for at the club could be one of those likes. But you never know.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re kind of a showboat?” Declan asks, making his way to the locker room exit.
“All the time. And I love it. And the fans love it too,” I say. But I don’t just do it for the fans. I have my reasons. Personal ones.
Zane shrugs, following Declan. “He’s not wrong. The fans eat it up.”
“The ladies and the dudes.” I stuff my phone in my pocket and head out into the corridor after them. “And, speaking of ladies and dudes, I think I might head back to that club early tomorrow night. Are you in?”
Something sparked for me there. The start of something new, something alluring. A sense of what I want after hours. A possibility of how I might want to spend my time.
“The night before a game?” Declan asks in faux horror.
“I said early , for some good ol’ fashioned fun .” I roll my eyes. “I’m not suggesting we dance till dawn and drink the bar dry.”
Declan shudders. “You won’t find me in a club again. I only went once for Grant. And that was a couple years ago,” he says as we head down the corridor. “But he gets it.”
“Awww. You were such a good boyfriend then,” I say.
“And I’m a great husband now,” he says, waggling his ring finger.”
Laughing, I shudder. “No lady or dude is tying this guy down.”
Zane claps my shoulder. “It’s going to be so fun when you eat your words.”
“No way. You’ll see. I’ll still be single AF by the end of the season because I plan to enjoy the hell out of the off-season.”
The guys stop in their tracks like they’d rehearsed it, and they exchange a look. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Declan asks Zane.
Zane nods knowingly. “Time for a bet.”
Declan turns to me. “Guys like you always fall the hardest. If you’re still single AF by the end of the season, I’ll donate a hundred grand to the charity of your choice. And if you fall, you’ll donate that to our picks.”
I blink. Someone throws down big. But then I square my shoulders. “You think I’ll have someone locking me down by then? It’ll never happen.”
We bet on it.
These guys have no idea.
A memory of a certain hottie and his I want to fuck you eyes rushes to mind and turns my skin hot. I only want sex, and I want it with the guy from the club.
I round up a crew of friends early the next night. Zane and his boyfriend join me, and so do Layla and her girlfriend. It’s a motley crew of gals and guys, straight and queer. We’re decked out in our club finest—tight and sexy and seductive duds.
“And so it begins,” Zane says, as we turn onto the block where Edge resides. “I’ve decided your donation will go to that new cat shelter.”
His dude, Maddox, chimes in with, “You always have a plan, Zane.”
“You know me so well,” Zane says to him, with an insider grin.
I snort-laugh. “Oh, ye of little faith. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
They really don’t. When you figure out at twenty-four you like dudes as well as gals, the last thing you want is to settle down. I want to explore this side of my sexuality. To go beyond the rudimentary kissing.
Well beyond it.
But that’s not all.
Another kind of craving tugs something in my chest. I don’t entirely understand this nascent desire. But I want to. And I think the key might be with that man who watched me dance and ignited a new kind of lust in me.