Chapter 18 #2
“You…want to join the football team?” I say, trying to keep the shocked concern out of my voice.
Look, I’m all for everybody having an equal shot.
When Drago took a semester of adult beginner ballet in an effort to improve his flexibility on the field and the ice, he sucked, but who cares.
When Galina’s friend Arianna decides to wear the men’s school uniform because she hates skirts?
More power to her. And again, who the fuck cares.
But there are just certain things in life, like college football, that aren’t going to be open to everyone, and that’s not life being a dick, that's just the way the cookie crumbles.
I play football because I’m six-foot-three and two-hundred and twenty pounds of lean, hardened muscle.
Nacho, meanwhile, is five foot six on a good day and somewhere around a hundred and twenty pounds of French fries and energy drinks.
All power to him, and it’s great that he wants to get in shape. But this dude would die on a football field.
Nacho grins at me. “Hell yeah, man. Go Privateers!”
“Cool,” I say through a tight smile. “That’s…cool.” I clear my throat. “Good luck. Holler if you need any advice on training. I’m just about to head out for a run—”
“Good call, man. Let’s do it.”
Wait.
“What?”
“Let’s go for a run together, Loch!”
I bite back a groan, then exhale.
Fuck it. Why not.
A mile later, I’m seeing exactly why not. Nacho is about fifty feet behind me and sounds like he’s dying. I give it another thirty seconds before I truly cannot take anymore. I stop running and turn to face him.
“Nacho? Take a break.”
He doesn’t fight me. In fact, he looks like the most relieved motherfucker in the world. He groans, immediately drops to the shoulder of the road leading up to Griswold Hill, and starts sucking in huge lungfuls of air.
“Listen, man…” I frown as I squat down next to him while he wheezes. “Why the fuck do you want to be on the Privateers?”
He nods, still trying to catch his breath. He swallows and then finally manages to string words together.
“A girl.” He shrugs and looks down.
I grin and clap him on the shoulder. “Man, there are plenty of ways to impress a girl. Trying to get on a college football team that plays at our level might not be the best route for you, though.”
Shit.
The look in his eyes like I just kicked his puppy sucks. But what’s going to suck even more is this poor kid showing up to try out for a tight end position alongside dudes three times his size who are also already on the hockey or rugby teams. He'll literally get killed.
I exhale. “Sorry, Nacho. I just mean…” I sigh. “So, this girl is into football players?”
He frowns. “All girls are into football players.”
I shake my head. “Nope. My cousin Bella goes out of her way to express how much she hates football players—all sports, actually.”
Nacho’s brow furrows. “Are you telling me to date your cousin?”
“Oh dear God, no,” I say with a tight smile.
Nacho would have better luck surviving football tryouts than he would a single date with that stabby little muppet.
“I just mean, not all girls are into football dudes. A lot aren’t.”
Nacho’s shoulders slump. “But…I mean, you’re always drowning in pussy.”
Not fucking lately, pal.
I mean, yeah, I’ve had my mouth and hands all over Galina. I’ve had my cock against her deliriously enticingly pussy, and smeared my cum all over it.
But I haven’t been inside her.
And seeing as I also haven’t even looked at another girl since the night of the Para Bellum party when Galina and I first crossed paths, this means it’s been over a month since I’ve fucked anyone.
That’s actually the thing in all this that’s throwing me for the biggest loop.
It’s not just that I want Galina. It’s not just that my behavior toward her…the stalking, the obsession, the games…is miles past anything remotely excusable.
It’s that I want her, but also that I do not want anyone else.
At all.
As much as I’m trying to make him feel better, Nacho isn’t wrong: college girls do tend to want to have sex with football guys. Over the past month, I’ve ignored or rejected probably twenty offers from girls to—at times quite literally—“do whatever I want with them”.
Two months ago, I’d be grinning like an asshole.
Now, I block those girls and go back to watching Galina pick her outfit for the day, or brush her teeth, or touch herself, via the hidden spy cameras in her room.
Totally normal behavior. Nothing at all that rings any alarm bells.
Right?
“So, what else do you know about this girl?” I ask Nacho.
He shrugs. “Honestly, not much.” His brow furrows. “She’s really into books.”
“Well, shit, man!” I grin at him. “You read all the time! There’s your in.”
He frowns. “She reads romance books.”
I bite back a grin.
She probably watches my content…
“So, pick one up and read it,” I shrug. “Discuss it with her, bam, you’re in.”
He shakes his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“My man, it really is—”
“Yeah, if you look like you!” he blurts.
I exhale heavily as I clap him on the shoulder. “Look, Nacho…you’re a good guy. Okay, you might not be destined for the Privateers, but you’ve got great clothing style, and you drive that sweet Ferrari!”
His mouth curls into a small smile.
“And, I hate to say it, but don’t discount family wealth and power.” I shrug. “Your dad is basically the most powerful figure in the Cartel, right?”
He nods. I grin and spread my arms.
“There you go! Use what you got, man. You’ve got the style, the car, the money, and the power. There are guys in the world who will never be on the Privateers who get plenty of women with those four things.”
He exhales slowly and nods. “Yeah…I guess. But I dunno. This girl is different.”
My mind slips to my redhead obsession.
Heard that, buddy.
“She’s hot, Lochlan. Like, real hot.”
I grin. “Atta boy.”
“I really wanna fuck her.”
My brows knit. “Well, yeah, I figured as much.”
He whistles low. “No, man…like I really wanna just…fuck the shit out of this chick, you know?”
I force a chuckle to cover the sudden weird turn in the conversation. “Yeah, got it, Nacho. So what else—”
“Bro, she makes me want to just, like find her, you know?” A darkness slips into his face as he grins. “Just find her and grab her and fucking fuck her.”
Well, this is getting real problematic real fast.
“Nacho? There’s name for finding and grabbing women, and it’s—”
“Consensual non-consent, yeah,” he nods. “I know.”
My brows knit. “Okay, but without the consensual part, it’s just called assault.”
“I bet she’d be into it.”
Yeah, fuck this. I’m out.
I stand abruptly. “I’m gonna head back to campus.”
And maybe put a fucking bell around this weirdo’s neck so girls hear him coming.
“Sorry,” he blurts as he grunts to his feet. “That was…I shouldn’t have said it.”
No shit. Shouldn’t have thought it, either.