Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
KOEN
I’m not sure what to think about the last two weeks. When I woke up after going out with the team, I was surprised with a splitting headache. There was a note, pain pills, a glass of water, and sodium bicarbonate with a damn spoon beside it. I have no recollection of how I got home.
The first thing I felt was soul crushing panic.
I even probed my asshole for any signs of forced entry, terrified that I had been raped.
My mind was an absolute mess, but I took the medicine and even swallowed a spoonful of sodium bicarbonate.
God, it felt as if I’ve done that exact thing before, yet I have no idea why.
So far, I’ve been able to put together that I was drugged the night of the bar, I just don’t remember anything else.
No one else has mentioned it, but my doorman keeps asking me about my alphas and how nice they are.
I’m too embarrassed to ask him who the hell he’s talking about.
He also mysteriously had my keys, which was good because I was losing my damn mind because I couldn’t find them.
I’m so fucking confused. All I know is that my virtue is intact, and I’m being flirted with more than I ever have been in my entire life.
I also didn’t recognize the handwriting either, so I have no idea who the fuck helped me that night or who was in my apartment.
So instead of worrying about it, I’ve been throwing myself into the game like I usually do when I’m stressed out. I work harder, give my teammates my entire attention, even the alphas I’m not sure how I feel about. It’s my way of thanking the universe for being able bodied and doing what I loved.
Groaning as I drag myself through the underground parking garage, I hit the button for the elevator. There are days when I don’t mind parking in the ground level parking lot and chatting with the doorman, but today I’m too tired to talk to anyone.
I want to shower and climb into bed. I didn’t even bother to rinse off after practice, knowing that I’d probably fall asleep in there.
Rhodes and Skylar are having a party at their new house tonight, and it’s all the team has been talking about.
We’ve been working nonstop as we get further into the season.
Every game helps put us into a better position to play in the championships, and we’re playing for keeps. I can also admit that Rhodes and Skylar are incredible players, and the team is meshing better with them.
I still don’t love that they watch me as if I belong to them.
All of this is compounded by the fact that the coach has banned any kind of partying. That’s not really my thing, but we do have some players that enjoy it, especially when we're playing in another city.
In an effort to release the pressure valve and increase team bonding, Coach said he’d lift the going out ban for Rhodes and Skylar’s house warming party, but that he expected everyone home by one in the morning. I don’t know if I’m going to go tonight due to my own issues with them.
I already have a hard time thinking around the alphas. Add in that I’m nearing my heat, I definitely don’t want to be triggered too soon. I don’t have to smell them to be attracted to their too attentive eyes, their kissable lips, and even how nice their laughs sound.
Fuck, how the hell am I catching feelings for alphas I barely know?
Shaking my head, I remind myself that I can’t get romantically entangled with my teammates. There have been too many times where I’ve wanted to drop to my knees in the locker room to suck Rhodes’ thick cock, which is why I make sure I shower as quickly as possible.
In many cases, I make sure I’m done before him, which isn’t difficult when I’m pulled to speak to the press after games.
Rhodes and Skylar are very comfortable with their bodies, like most of the team. I’m the only one that doesn’t like the locker room.
Attraction isn’t an issue. It’s the concern that I’ll lose my autonomy if I get in a relationship with an alpha.
I fucking hate that I let that coach get inside my head so badly, and if I ever see him again, I intend to tell him off.
Unfortunately, he retired recently, so I doubt I’ll ever have the opportunity.
I’m in a pretty shitty mood as I walk down the hall, and I jolt as my feet splash in a puddle.
“What the fuck?” I whisper.
“Hey you’re in apartment six sixty-eight, right?” someone calls out behind me.
Turning, I nod. “I am. What’s going on?”
“Pretty sure the water is coming from your apartment. Did you leave the water running?” he asks, looking disappointed in me.
“Nah. I’m seriously anal about turning everything off. Plus, this is a lot of water.”
“Well, don’t be surprised if your shit is fucked,” he says, hitching a duffle bag over his shoulder. “We all have to evacuate this floor.”
“Shit,” I breathe. I don’t know if I should apologize or not, so instead I rush to my apartment and unlock the door. A small wave of liquid knocks me onto my ass when I open it, and I whimper in annoyance.
I fucking hate my life.
Scrambling up, I leave the door open as I wade inside to find the sprinklers happily getting everything wet, and all of my sinks overflowing. I want to cry as I turn everything off and finally remember to shut my front door.
At this point, my duffle bag is the only salvageable thing because I managed to keep it from hitting the soaked ground.
I could see the water flooding my closet when I went into my room, so my makeshift nest is also ruined.
My phone rings as I sag against the wall, and I drop my head back with a groan as I answer it.
“What?” I ask, not looking at the contact information.
“Is that any way to answer the phone?” Coach asks.
“No, I’m sorry. My apartment is completely flooded. It’s raining inside it from the fire sprinklers, and my entire apartment building currently hates me,” I sigh. “I just walked in. How can I help you?”
“I think the real question is how I can help you,” Coach Weightman scoffs, no longer concerned with my shitty attitude. “Is anything salvageable?”
“Nothing,” I admit, looking around. Wading further into my apartment, I realize that my walls are missing photos.
What kind of intruder steals childhood pictures?
“All of the faucets were open in my apartment, Coach,” I finally add. “This was done on purpose, I just don’t know how or why.”
“Then a hotel isn’t really an option either. It won’t be safe enough,” he growls. “I want you to stay with someone from the team.”
“Coach, I’ll be fine—”
I may as well be talking to a brick wall because he begins to speak to someone else in the room with him.
I’m trying hard not to grumble. I’m not a toddler, I’m a grown goddamned man! Even though this apartment is sparse, it’s still been mine. I simply haven’t had the time or energy to lean into my omega instincts to decorate.
This place has a very transitional feeling to it. Maybe the universe knew that this would happen.
Great, and now I’m moping again.
“Captain!” Coach bellows.
Oops. I guess he’s been trying to get my attention.
“Yes,” I say, sounding as if I’m coming up for air. Fuck a duck, I’m definitely starting to lose my shit.
“Get the fuck out of the apartment. I’ll go by and make a police report for you,” he says. “You’re bunking with Skylar and Rhodes for now. They have that huge house they just moved into and since they’re here with me, they offered.”
“I can’t possibly do that,” I sputter.
Why world? Why?! Ugh, it’s almost a little too perfect of a solution, but there’s no way they could be behind this, right?
“Hey, roomie!” Rhodes calls out. “I’ll text you the address. We’ll get your stuff replaced for you.”
Even my sex toys are water logged. Ugh. There’s no way I’m allowing them to follow me around while I shop for that stuff. Absolutely not.
“That’s really not necessary,” I grind out.
“Rhodes and Skylar came in to talk with me and they said that they feel as if things haven’t been clicking between the three of you,” Coach drawls.
My dick perks up inappropriately and I blow out a breath. I should have known that they would play dirty. Now there’s no way I’ll be able to get away from them.
“I’ve also been sensing some tension between the three of you. I’m not sure if you need to bang it out or what, but I need your head in the fucking game,” he adds.
Fuck me. Why are my coaches so concerned with my sex life?
“That’s…not appropriate,” I mumble instead.
“Meh. I don’t care what you all do as long as it doesn’t get back to Human Resources or affect the team,” Coach Weightman says. “What I do know is that this is a problem and I expect you three to fix it!”
Ugh. He’s yelling at me. I am typically the golden boy so I’m not usually yelled at, which is good becuase I fucking hate it.
“Yes, sir,” I grumble.
“I haven’t heard a door close yet. All of that standing water is terrible for your feet. Get moving!” he roars.
It feels like a firecracker was lit up in my asshole as I hurry out of my apartment. Water sloshes everywhere, and now that he mentions it, my feet are cold.
It seems dumb to lock my door, yet I do it out of habit.
“I’m gone, promise,” I mutter as I hustle down the hallway.
“Hey roomie, don’t forget about Rhodes’ text,” Skylar says loudly, sounding smug.
All I can do is roll my eyes. Edna, our PR manager, decided to create a team phone tree with all of our numbers, so I know how he got my phone number. I think it’s a little juvenile to have a phone tree, but emergencies happen, which is why I’m the top of it as captain.
“Alright, I’m going to lose service in the elevator,” I lie. “Bye, Coach.”
Hanging up the phone, I hit the button to call the elevator and blow out a cleansing breath. If I smoked, I’d want a cigarette right now. Since I can’t do that, masturbation is my next option, but even that’s out the window now.