Chapter 12 #2
"I'm done with you," I say. My voice comes out low and lethal. "After my contract renewal closes, we're done. Find yourself a new client."
Enzo laughs, throwing me off balance. "You can't fire me, Huxley. I've got deals in motion. Equipment sponsors. Energy drink companies. Appearance fees. Endorsements worth millions. You walk away now, you lose all of it."
"I don't deal with bullshit like this. So make your deals, Enzo," I grit out. "But come February, you're gone. And if you say one more word about Scout, I'll fire you today. I'd rather take the financial hit than let you think for one second you control her or me."
I shove past him, shoulder burning, fists shaking. It's an effort not to turn around and finish this the way my body wants to.
He calls after me, voice echoing down the concrete hallway. "Scout drags partners down, Huxley. It's what she does. Don't say I didn't warn you."
I keep walking. If I stop, I'll do something I can't take back. Something that will end up on every sports news site and probably get me suspended.
The cold air in the parking lot hits my face like a slap. I stand there for a minute, breathing hard, trying to calm the rage burning through my chest.
Enzo's never done well with being told he can't touch something. Scout's a prime example. He had her and threw her away and now he can't stand that someone else might want what he discarded.
That night's game is a disaster.
We play like we've never met each other before. Passes die on sticks. Coverage gaps open wide enough to drive a truck through. I watch, dying inside, as my teammates can't seem to get their shit together. And I’m stuck here riding the bench, impossibly angry.
We lose by three.
Scout's waiting by my truck when I get to the parking lot.
She's wrapped her arms around herself against the cold, breath coming out in visible clouds.
Her dark blonde curls are wild from the wind, falling loose around her shoulders.
She's in those black leggings that drive me crazy and an oversized Havoc hoodie that swallows her frame.
No makeup, cheeks pink from the cold, green eyes tracking me as I approach.
Even freezing and windblown, she's beautiful.
Too beautiful for someone like me to deserve.
She doesn't ask how I'm feeling or offer empty platitudes. She just opens the driver’s door and climbs in.
The drive back to my condo is silent. Tense.
My mind spins through the game on repeat, looking for angles I missed, plays I could've made differently.
The thing is, I give this sport every piece of me.
Discipline in the kitchen, punishment in the gym, film until my vision blurs.
Perfect habits don't guarantee results. Sometimes it still fails me.
As we head upstairs, Scout touches my arm. Her voice is the same as her touch, light and careful. "It's okay to have an off night."
Her soft voice saying exactly what I need to hear cracks something in my chest. I sigh, shoulders dropping an inch. "Today was tough."
"I know." She unlocks the door to the condo. "Tomorrow will be too. Especially with finding a new agent."
I freeze halfway through the doorway. "How'd you know about that?"
"Enzo can't keep his mouth shut. He's already been texting people. Word travels fast in this organization." She doesn't look at me, just moves into the kitchen to fill a glass with water. "You should fire him. Why don't you?"
I look at her. "It's complicated."
"He treats you like garbage. How is that complicated?"
"He gets results." The same excuse I've used for three years. "Knows people. Knows how to work the system."
"That's worth putting up with him?"
"I didn't say that."
She crosses her arms. "So fire him."
"It's not that simple."
"Why not?"
My mother. The threats. The fallout. I'd rather be miserable than deal with any of it. I shake my head without answering.
"He crossed a line."
She waits for more, but I don't elaborate. And she doesn't push. Instead she sets the glass down and says, "Go change. If you sit on the couch, I'll give you a massage."
"Scout..."
"Sit, Silas."
The command in her voice makes my cock twitch. I hate it. I go change into sweats and a t-shirt anyway because the alternative is standing here arguing with her. It's been a long day and I'm too tired for that.
When I sit down, she moves behind me without a word. Her hands land on my shoulders and I tense immediately. My whole body goes rigid because if I'm not on high alert, I'll do something stupid.
I haven't been touched with care in years.
Not like this. Her hands carry intention and warmth and the kind of attention that makes my chest feel too tight.
Her palms on my shoulders, fingers pressing into muscle.
The accidental brush of her thighs against my back when she shifts for better leverage.
My body's been starving for this and now that I have it, I don't know what to do with the need it creates in me.
My head drops forward.
It feels too damn good to make her stop. Her thumbs work into the knots with firm, sure pressure. She knows exactly where to press, exactly how hard. Every stroke makes something in me unwind against my will.
"Where'd you learn this?" My voice comes out rough.
"Enzo had a nagging groin injury a few years ago. I learned sports massage in school, but I took another class in it to help him through the worst of it." She says it matter-of-fact, no emotion coloring her tone.
Jealousy knifes through me sharp and sudden. The thought of her hands on him. Rubbing him down, caring for him while he probably took it for granted. He probably cheated on her at the same time as she doted on him.
Fucking Enzo.
I have no right to this possessive rage. But the image makes my teeth grind together so hard my jaw aches.
"Done," I say abruptly, standing before I embarrass myself. Before my body's reaction to her touch becomes too obvious to hide.
"Okay." She doesn't sound offended. Just steps back and moves toward the kitchen. "I'll prep your morning shakes for the week."
"Thanks." It comes out gruff, ungrateful. She's too good. Too kind. Certainly too good for a man like me who can't even say thank you without sounding angry about it.
“You’re welcome.” Her surprised smile makes me feel even deeper shame.
I retreat to my room and close the door. Leaning against it, I try to breathe. My shoulder throbs. My cock throbs worse.
I pull out my phone and open up the dating app. Her username glows at the top of my messages.
I shouldn't do this. I know it's bad. Every rational part of my brain's screaming at me to stop before this gets more complicated than it already is.
And I do it anyway.
StatMan12
Tell me about your day.
She responds a few minutes later. I hear her door close softly down the hall. Now I'm picturing her shedding clothes, curling up in that guest bed surrounded by pillows. My hand wraps around my cock through my sweatpants before I can stop myself.
Yoga4Lyfe
Long. Frustrating. My roommate's in a mood.
StatMan12
Forget him. Focus on me.
Yoga4Lyfe
Bossy tonight.
StatMan12
You like it when I'm bossy.
Yoga4Lyfe
Maybe.
StatMan12
Not maybe. You do. You like when I tell you exactly what to do.
The conversation slides fast. One teasing comment turns into breathing hard over our phones.
StatMan12
What are you doing right now?
Yoga4Lyfe
Lying in bed. Trying not to think about your hands on me.
StatMan12
Don't try. Think about it. Think about me coming in, pushing you back, pinning your wrists to the mattress.
Yoga4Lyfe
You'd pin me?
StatMan12
I would hold you still so you can't squirm away when I take my time with you.
Yoga4Lyfe
You're... intense tonight.
StatMan12
You seem to like intense. Maybe you crave someone who won't hesitate with you.
A beat. Three dots pulse. My pulse hammers with them.
Yoga4Lyfe
What would you do next?
StatMan12
Spread you open. Lick your clit, put my fingers in your pussy. Eat you like you're a Sunday roast until you forget your own name. Until you beg for it.
Yoga4Lyfe
God.
I'm touching myself already.
Heat punches through my gut.
StatMan12
Slow down. You only move when I tell you to.
Yoga4Lyfe
Bossy again.
StatMan12
Always. Now tell me exactly what your hand is doing.
Silence. Then she responds.
Yoga4Lyfe
My fingers are just... resting on my clit. Barely there. Waiting for you.
I grip myself harder, breath ragged.
StatMan12
Good girl. Don't move them yet. I want you desperate for it.
Yoga4Lyfe
I already am.
StatMan12
Say it.
Yoga4Lyfe
I want you. I want your mouth. I want you holding me still and dominating me.
I swear under my breath and stroke faster, imagining her just down the hall, flushed and needy and waiting for a command.
I fist my cock properly now, groaning quietly into the dark of my room. I picture her in the room down the hall doing the same thing. It's wrong. It's a lie. But it's also the only thing keeping me from losing my mind completely.
Yoga4Lyfe
I'm close already. Just thinking about you.
StatMan12
Don't come yet. Wait for me.
Yoga4Lyfe
You're killing me.
StatMan12
Good. I like you needy.
I work myself faster, biting back sounds that would carry through the walls. My shoulder burns but I don't care. Everything narrows to this. Her words on my screen and the image in my head of what she looks like right now.
Yoga4Lyfe
Please. I need to come.
StatMan12
Now. Come for me now.
I follow my own command, spilling into my hand with a bitten-off groan. My whole body shakes with it. It takes a full minute for my vision to clear.
Yoga4Lyfe
That was intense.
StatMan12
You okay?
Yoga4Lyfe
More than okay. I wish you were here.
StatMan12
Me too.
And I mean it. God, I mean it so much it physically hurts.
Yoga4Lyfe
I want to meet you. IRL. Soon.
My hand freezes on my phone. Panic floods cold through my chest, washing away the afterglow in an instant.
StatMan12
Maybe. I travel a lot for work. My schedule's unpredictable.
Yoga4Lyfe
Then when you're back in town. Please? I feel like we have something real here.
StatMan12
I'll let you know.
It's a coward's answer. A dodge. I can't give her what she's asking for.
If I were to reveal that her gruff, broken roommate who snaps at her in the kitchen is the same man she's sharing her deepest fantasies with.
.. If she knew, she'd run. She'd be horrified.
Disgusted. She'd move out and I'd never see her again except in passing at the arena where she'd look through me like I'm nothing.
That's the worst case outcome.
I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling, heart hammering, cock softening, chest still tight with want and shame in equal measure.
I can hear her moving around in her room. She opens the door and goes into the bathroom. I try not to think about how close she is. It would be so easy to just get up, walk down the hall, knock on her door.
I already know it's impossible.
I lie awake for hours before exhaustion finally drags me under.