Chapter 8 Ian
EIGHT
IAN
I am fucked. There is no point in lying to myself or denying the truth. I want Lilly—badly.
Being just her friend is like teetering on the brink of starvation.
But not having her at all is infinitely worse.
Like the idiot that I am, I can’t stay away—no self-preservation left in my body.
Her friendship feeds me crumbs when I hunger for more of her.
It edges on torture, but even a piece of her is preferable to life without her.
The pendulum swings from one extreme to the other, driving me mad.
The hot water sprays down on my shoulders, doing nothing to soothe my stiff muscles. Squeezing my eyes shut, I flatten my palms on the shower stall, trying to ignore my raging hard on.
Thoughts of her swirl in my head, wreaking havoc while blinding need and incessant desire drum under my skin. Incapable of restraining myself, I grip my cock, trying to alleviate the ache. Every muscle in my body tenses, and I give in, needing a release before I implode.
Imagining my cock sliding in her hot core, I give in to my weakness. In the privacy of my home, I ignore why I shouldn’t even entertain these thoughts.
Pumping my length up and down, her name rumbles out of my throat—it’s a broken sound filled with want. A need my hand can’t fulfill. But it has to do. There’s no other way. Friends, even though what I feel for her is anything but friendly.
In my fantasy, her body undulates against mine as I grip her waist and bury myself so deep I lose myself in the heaven of her. Again and again. Harder. Faster. Until my balls get heavy with my impending release.
Her soft moans do me in and I groan as I fuck my hand with jerky moves, chasing my climax. Spasming, cum spurts on my hand, painting a visual of my lust, but not taming the desire to fill her up.
The water washes away the evidence, carrying away my secret as if it had never happened. My heart twists, reminding me that even the thought of her does it better for me than the reality of someone else.
I towel dry my hair, my eyes finding my reflection. I look disheveled.
Gripping the sink, I should stay away from temptation, but I was never good at following reason when I desired something with all of me.
Just like football. Despite my talent, discipline, and hard work, there was a chance I wouldn’t make it to play in the NFL.
But I pushed through the nagging doubts, discarding all the well-intentioned advice to have a plan B in place.
I didn’t want it then. Pretty ironic, considering now I can’t do a thing but accept that there is something out of my hands.
As long as I play under Coach, I can’t do anything.
He could bench me, make my time on the team harder.
I am the captain, for fuck’s sake. I must be a role model.
Responsibility should trump my selfish desire, but she makes it so damn hard.
It was one thing thinking about her, but she not only maintains that sublime image I held on to, but the reality of her transcends appeal.
Exhausted, I go to bed, picking up my phone from my nightstand. Temptation wins this round, and I text her.
Good night, flower girl.
I keep telling myself that one day, I will be strong enough not to give in. But today is not that day.
I don’t wait for a reply. I place my phone back on the nightstand, hoping for sweet oblivion.
With my arms locked behind my neck, I stare at the ceiling. I wanted to kiss her so badly when she jumped into my arms. That bright and grateful expression undid me, making me want to give her everything and not care about the damn consequences.
Going to bed with her on my mind and waking up with her as my first thought has become my new routine.
Today is game day, so I try to get my shit together even though I grapple with focus, imagining her in the stands calling my name, wearing my number. That pumps me up with new energy, rewiring every cell in my body.
I have always given my best on the field, but now it’s more than just proving I’ve earned my place or the love for the game. I want her to be proud of me.
Getting ready, I pick up my phone and smile at her text.
Good luck tonight. I’ll be cheering for you.
When I open my door, I see a cup and a note. For energy. And a wink.
Oh, flower girl, I am brimming with it. I could fuck you into the new millennium and still have stamina left.
In the car, I tap on my wheel, music sounding from the sound system. Rap music always helps me put my head in the right mental space. All in, ready to fight and win.
I park in my allotted spot at the stadium, breathing in and out in a soothing rhythm to anchor myself.
Playing at home is always mixed with more expectations. I won’t lose. I’m so close, I can visualize the third ring on my finger.
Focused and calm, I walk into the locker room, changing into my gear.
There’s a humming energy as I call my teammates around me.
“We want this win, so what are we going to do to get it?”
“Fucking smash them,” my teammates roar.
The energy pumps us up as we leave the locker room, and Levi and I exchange a nod. It’s comforting to play with your best friend, sharing this experience and going through all the highs and lows together.
Down the tunnel, we storm out onto the field, and a celebratory fog explodes in our faces. Cameras click and the fans roar when they see us.
I search for Lilly in the VIP suite. She’s glued to the glass, and when our eyes lock, her gaze burns up my blood, heating me up.
“Make me proud, guys,” Coach says, and the whistle signals the start of the game.
I keep my word, determined to pack this win.
Every pass I throw, every touchdown I make is for her.
Whenever I am playing, time flies and everything else fades away, but the desire to secure the game remains.
The fans go crazy when Roman secures the winning touchdown. This guy doesn’t run; it’s like he flies over the field. It’s impossible to keep up with him.
Sweat beads at my nape and my muscles scream of abuse. Nothing new to feel exhausted after the game.
We do the interviews, and a reporter makes note of my performance. “That was the best game you played.”
It is. Lilly motivates me to be better. What a surreal experience.
Back in the locker room, a shit-eating grin stretches on my best friend’s face. I groan, already expecting he’s going to give me shit.
“Sexual frustration becomes you.”
“Fucker,” I mumble.
After I pat each one of my teammates on their backs, Coach Parker sweeps his gaze over us with glistening eyes, but I can’t hold eye contact for long. The guilt is real.
“I am proud of you. And now go celebrate.” He arches a brow in warning. “But not too hard.”
Some of my teammates groan, but still dip their heads in acquiescence.
“An athlete’s career is a short one. It’s up to you how you want to be remembered,” he reminds us before leaving.
A legend. Have always strived to become one.
“So where are we going?” Roman asks me after we shower and change.
My phone vibrates in my hand and when I see the text from her, I toss aside all other plans.
“Have something else to do.”
“Come on. We get a pass tonight. What could be more important?” Roman whines, and Levi says, “A special someone.”
Did I say he’s my best friend? Because he’s one smirk away from being dethroned. I pin him with a glare, and he says, “I’m calling Amelie.”
Roman sighs dramatically. “Phone sex.”
I groan, Levi chuckles, and Banks says, “It could have been worse, Cap. You’re basically family.”
A headache pulses behind my temples at having to deal with this unruly pack. “Shut up, already.” Then I tell Levi, “Say hi to Amelie for me.”
“I will.”
In front of the car, we share a sideways hug.
Levi gets in the car and rolls down his window. “Enjoy your free time. Alone, when what you crave is so near, yet unreachable.”
I flip him the bird and climb into my car, driving home.
In front of the elevator, it takes this thing forever to arrive, and I’m losing my patience by the second.
At her door, I am about to knock, but she opens it before I can, as if she sensed me, causing a ruckus in my chest.
Lilly jumps straight into my arms. “Wow, you were fantastic. My nerves reached a new high. I thought I would faint. How you threw the last pass. That was a new record. Do you know that?” she asks, out of breath.
While I love to hear her talk, her soft body pressed against mine feels divine. All I want is to prolong holding her.
She tilts her head, looking unsure. “You could have said no. I’m sure you thought about going out to celebrate.”
“I’m right where I want to be. With whom I want to be,” I assure her.
A big smile brightens her face, and I dip my face, following my instinct to claim her.
Her eyes round, mouth parting a bit.
No, keep it together. Don’t ruin it.
The moment passes and she clears her throat, sliding down my body.
I look sideways, raking my hand through my hair, utterly frustrated with myself.
“So, what do you usually do to celebrate?”
Her capacity to snatch me back from the claws of despair never ceases to amaze me.
“When I was younger, we’d go to clubs or private parties. But it got boring quick. Nowadays, it’s a sports bar, just with the few people I like.”
She drags her lower lip through her teeth. “We could go out, but…”
Yes, I know. We could be recognized.
Fuck it. We’re not together, but how will I explain that to Coach if someone takes a picture of us? For shit’s sake, I am twenty-six years old. I don’t even have to explain my personal life to my parents.
“How about we take a quick walk instead?” I suggest.
“Let me go put on some walking shoes.”
While Lilly changes shoes, I go to my place and slap a ball cap on my head, trying to go incognito, and meet her back at her place.
As we stroll toward downtown, the night sky provides us with extra privacy, secluding us from curious passersby who are still screaming and chanting in the streets after the win.