Chapter 9
Easton
I’ve been avoiding Bennett. After what happened, I can’t look him in the eye. Not when all I can think about is how I felt looking into his eyes as we jerked off together.
Fucking hell, we actually jerked off together. And I loved it, far more than I had any right to.
I’m supposed to be over him. I have been for years. So why now is he the only thing on my damn mind? I can’t get him out of my head. His smell, his body, the way he looks when he cums.
He looked like a fucking sex god when he threw his head back and came hard, shooting cum all over his chest.
He lasted longer than me. After he was done, reality slammed into me, and I bolted.
Shame and confusion consumed my mind. I had to get out of there before he realized what we just did. Before he could mock me or make fun of me.
Bennett thinks I’m straight, and it needs to stay that way. If my dad gets even a hint that I like men, he’ll kill me. Most likely literally.
No. I can’t slip up again. Not like that.
Whatever that even was.
He was trying to call my bluff, and I took him up on the challenge, making everything way more complicated than before.
I’m gone in the morning before he wakes up, and return when he’s already asleep. The nights I have work, I’ve been crashing at Taylor’s dorm, but her roommate isn’t too happy about it.
I can’t avoid him forever. It’s been two weeks. I’m sure enough time has passed. He’s probably forgotten about it.
Who the hell are you fooling? That is not something you forget about, ever.
I sure as hell know I won't be.
“Wright!” Coach Creed barks. “Come here.”
I slow to a jog, heart hammering in my chest. I know what he’s about to say: he’s going to bitch me out for being off my game today. I can’t help it, though. I haven’t been sleeping very well.
Last night, Taylor’s roommate was not happy about being woken up at one in the morning when I came by after work. I didn’t want to make things hard for her when she’s the one who has to live with the girl, so I went to the hockey house.
By getting up early to avoid Bennett, I got maybe three hours of sleep. It’s not enough. I can’t live like this. I need to man the fuck up and just avoid Bennett in different ways. Like not talking to him. We can be in the same room, and I can pretend he’s not there.
“Yes, Coach?” I ask, out of breath, heart hammering.
“Everything okay?” he asks, raising a brow. “You’ve been off lately. Where's the drive, the determination? We have a game this weekend, and I need you at your best.”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Sorry. With the fire and everything, it’s thrown me for a loop.”
I’m not sure if I should be relieved by the pitying look on his face, or pissed off. I hate pity, I don’t want it. Life has never been easy for me, but I don’t sit around and wallow in it.
Maybe using the fire to excuse why I’m off my game is wrong, but I can’t tell the man it’s because I can’t stop thinking about all the ways I want to do dirty, fucked up things to his son, can I?
In a way, it is because of the fire. I’m rooming with my ex-best friend because of it.
“I understand.” He nods. “And it’s okay to feel however you are. There’s school counselors available if you need someone to talk to.”
“Thanks.” I force a smile, but I know it comes off fake. “But I’m good.”
He nods, clearing his throat. “Alright then. Try your best out there. It’s your last year. You wanna make it to the big leagues, you need to be on your A game. The South Carolina Pit Bulls have their eyes on you.”
That makes me perk up. “I know. And I don’t plan on letting them down.”
“Then get out there and show me what you got.”
I bust my ass the rest of practice, determined to show Coach Creed I’m worth the NFL’s attention.
I’m dead by the time practice is over. Sweaty, dirty, and sore, I follow my teammates to the locker room.
“Roland.” At the sound of Liam’s voice, I perk up. He’s been sniffing around Bennett lately, and I don’t like it. Not that I care who Bennett gets with or anything, but Liam doesn’t deserve a second chance with anyone he cheats on. It’s not right.
“‘Sup.” Roland strips out of his gear. Turning my back to them, I slowly remove my gear, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“You and Bennett,” Liam continues.
“What about it?” Roland asks.
“What’s the deal?”
“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” Roland answers.
“He’s my ex. Are you really trying to get with him?”
“I know he’s your ex. But we’re not friends, we’re teammates, acquaintances. I owe you no loyalty outside the game,” Roland brushes him off.
“You're kidding me, right? So, you’re just going to go fuck all my exes then?”
“No,” Roland says. “It’s one ex. And no one is fucking anyone.”
Liam snorts. “Not what it looked like at the party a few weeks ago. Rumor is, you two were hooking up in your room.”
“What I do, or don’t do, in my room is none of your business.” He sounds pissed.
“Did you fuck him?” Liam demands.
“I’m not having this conversation.”
“Stay away from him, Roland. I mean it.”
“You have no control over what Bennett does,” Roland growls. “He’s not your boyfriend.”
“Not right now. But he will be again.”
“You’re fucking delusional, you know that, right? We all know you cheated on him. He's the only one who doesn’t know how many people are involved. Maybe someone should fill him in on that.”
“He won’t believe you,” Liam argues.
“I’m done with this conversation, Liam. If I do or don’t date Bennett, it’s none of your business.”
Roland storms off to the showers. Liam curses. “Can you believe that asshole?”
I turn around and raise a brow. “I mean, he has a point.”
“Not you too.” He glares at me. “What, are you and Bennett buddies now that you're rooming together? Because from what I heard, he hates you more now than he did before.”
A scowl takes over my face. What the hell does he mean by that? Did Bennett tell him that? Are they actually getting closer?
The idea makes my stomach twist even more than Roland dating him.
“Look. All I’m saying is, I don’t like cheaters.
It doesn't matter who you are to me. Family or friend, it doesn’t change how I feel about it.
Even if I hated Bennett, I wouldn’t want him to be back with a cheater.
Why are you so hell-bent on getting back with him?
You spent the past year fucking half the men and women on this campus. ”
His nostrils flare. “Because I love him.”
I snort, shaking my head. “Try again.”
“You know what, fuck this.” He takes off in a huff, leaving me in peace.
I go about my day of classes before heading back to the hockey house to get in a few hours of studying.
I’m nearly done working on a paper when Bennett comes into the room.
He pauses when he steps inside, doing a double-take. “You’re here.”
“It’s my room too,” I grunt.
“Yeah, but...” He shakes his head. “You know what, never mind.”
He ignores me and heads over to his closet. School work forgotten, I watch as he mills about the room.
“What are you doing?” I ask, brows furrowed as he pulls clothes out of his closet and dresser, like he’s trying to find something to wear.
“I've got plans,” he mutters, tossing a shirt to the side and reaching for another.
“Plans that involve you ransacking the room?”
He stops and looks over at me, frowns, then looks around the room. “Shit,” he sighs. “I’ll clean it up.”
I continue to watch, but look away as he starts to change. When he’s dressed again, he goes over to his dresser and sprays himself in something.
“Hot date or something?” I joke, hating the silence.
What am I doing? What happened to the whole avoid him by not talking to him?
“Ah, maybe?” he mutters.
My face drops. I was only joking.
“On a Wednesday night?”
He shrugs. “We’re both busy with school and practice, with football games starting up, weekends are off the table.”
Football. So it’s Roland he’s going out with.
Something that feels like a rock settles in my stomach.
“Whatever. Just don’t bring him back here,” I grumble, bringing my attention back to my book.
“Why not?” he asks. “If you can have Taylor over, why can’t I have Roland?” Hearing his name is another sting.
“Taylor was here one night. One. She hasn’t been back since,” I point out.
“She’s welcome here. I just don’t want you fucking her in the same room as me,” he mutters.
“Well, I don’t want you fucking him in the same room as me.”
“Who said anything about fucking him?” he tosses back. “Despite what you might believe, I’m not a manwhore, Easton. I don’t bring people home and fuck them all the time.”
“No, but you go up to their rooms at parties and let them blow you,” I snap back, anger I don’t like or understand building inside me.
His jaw grinds together. “I don’t have to explain anything to you,” he says. “Maybe don’t go around being a fucking peeping tom. Got a thing for voyeurism or something? Because you seem to like to watch people get off.”
“Fuck you,” I snap.
“No thanks.” He grins, making me itch to get up and punch him in his stupid face. “You’re not my type.”
I snort a laugh. “Is that why you kissed me when we were kids?”
He runs his tongue along his teeth, shaking his head as he lets out a little huff of air. “We all make mistakes, Easton. I was young and stupid. Trust me, I won't be making that mistake again.” He storms out of the room, leaving me sitting here like I just got smacked in the face.
His words shouldn’t bother me. I shouldn’t care about what he does.
But they do bother me, and I do care. I hate that I do.
Angrily, I shove my books in my bag and decide to go see Taylor before I have to go to work. I need to clear my head.
This is bullshit, so damn stupid.
The pub is busy tonight. The servers have been bringing back trays full of dirty dishes one after another. I’ve been pretty quick at my job, but it’s still a bit of a struggle.