16. Player
PLAYER
The advantage of being on a college football team is getting invited to all the parties, even the most exclusive ones. Though you can't really say the Delta Tau party is exclusive. Quite the opposite actually, anyone can come and have a good time.
As soon as I walk into the kitchen, which seems to be the nerve center, or drink center most likely, of the party, someone calls out to me, "Hey, Player! The man of the week is joining us, guys!"
The guy who just spoke to me is a stranger, but he seems to know who I am. Then again, after last night’s game, the entire campus probably knows me.
A crowd forms around me and the exclamations fly. "You're a fucking genius with the ball, man!"
"I've never seen a motherfucker dive like that before, it was incredible..."
They're all soaked in alcohol, probably the same stuff they're pouring in generous amounts into red cups before passing them around.
For a moment, I think that getting wasted might help me forget the troubles I'm in, particularly chasing away my father's shadow that constantly hovers over me like a bird of ill omen.
But I've tried that method before, and it only brought me more problems. No, I can't let myself hope for easy ways to escape my life.
Without warning, Alabama's image flashes through my mind. I see the expression on her face from when I practically insulted her. Why won’t her ghost leave me alone, even here?
"Want something to drink?" offers the guy who greeted me. "We've got everything you want, tequila, rum, vodka, whiskey. What would you like?"
"Surprise me," I say after a moment's hesitation.
My response clearly delights him, as an enormous smile stretches across his face. His eyes twinkle, then he turns to one of his buddies. "Marley! Serve your specialty for our Player! And don't skimp, fill that fucker up! We owe him!"
As usual, I feel like a stranger in my own life. The electric atmosphere filling the big house doesn't reach me. Sometimes I feel like I'm dead inside. Besides the familiar anger, I'm not capable of feeling much—no guilt, no regret, not much joy either, except on the field.
An emotional cripple...
A cup materializes before my eyes and I don't hesitate to down it in one go. Fuck! It's intense, and I’m going to be fucked in about twenty minutes I suspect.
"What's in this?" I ask after coughing once. That had to be a full ass cup of eighty proof at a minimum.
The guy named Marley gives me a conspiratorial wink. "Trade secret, my man. It's my house cocktail."
"You'll see, the second one tastes better," explains the guy who welcomed me when I arrived, whose name I still don't know.
I'm not here to make friends, so I don't bother asking him.
Anyway, I only dream of one thing, leaving this fucking college to regain my freedom.
Making connections with other students certainly won't help me achieve that.
"Want another?" Marley offers.
I answer with a nod, probably a stupid decision, and a few seconds later, I'm handed another full cup.
I gulp it down in a few swigs before leaving the kitchen to look around.
Not that I'm particularly interested in touring the place, but since I'm here, I might as well see who's at the party tonight.
I quickly realize that almost all the Jaguars are here. I spot Emery with a girl sitting on each knee. He flashes me a goofy smile, in horndog heaven. "Player! How's it going?"
"Yeah..."
My friend doesn't pay attention to my response because one of his "friends" leans over to whisper something in his ear. Judging by his reaction, Emery is more than willing.
I catch a few female glances directed at me, and it wouldn't take much effort to leave with company tonight, but I have no desire for that.
All these girls know nothing about life, they don't even know the positions that would make them come if we had sex.
No, I have zero interest in that kind of innocent little thing.
A familiar face catches my attention briefly before the crowd swallows it. I frown. Dixie is here.
Without understanding why this idea bothers me, I walk in the direction where I spotted her. I pass a window just as lightning illuminates the landscape outside. Once again, rain isn't far off. Good, it matches my mood.
I wander around the ground floor with no specific purpose. Well, I am wondering where Alabama disappeared to. I reach the imposing staircase that leads to the upper floors, and the thought crosses my mind that she may have followed some fratboy to his room.
This possibility doesn't improve my mood, which shifts from dark to murderous. I shake my head, refusing to believe my own thoughts. I don't give a fuck what Alabama does with her ass!
Yeah, except if she's sleeping with another guy, it's like I've lost the game.
I want her thinking only of me, wanting to fuck me, not some Delta Tau asshole.
I'm about to climb the stairs when I spot her not far away.
I don't know if she senses my presence, but she turns her head in my direction and our eyes meet.
Outside, the storm breaks, rain starts falling, hurling torrents of water against the window. The panes tremble when thunder rumbles and lightning strikes nearby. The lights flicker.
A few surprised cries rise throughout the house, but I stay focused on Dixie.
She's with a guy who's talking to her, oblivious to the fact she isn't listening to a single word he's saying.
I move in their direction without the slightest idea of what I'm going to say to her or what I can do to prevent her from flirting with this little jerk.
When he sees me approaching, he calls out, "Holy shit! You're Player, the new quarterback! You're a stud and a half, man!"
I wonder if my wanted poster has been circulated around campus for everyone to recognize me, before realizing that my exploits speak for themselves. It’s impossible to miss the new star of the Jaguars.
The young man completely loses interest in Dixie to ask me questions about the game, which I answer while not looking at him at all, bored.
I don't want to dwell on the subject. But he's too enthusiastic to realize that I don't care, and he continues, "Where did you learn to jump like that last touchdown? It was insane! I've never seen that kind of move. Man, keep it up and someone’s going to be offering you HUGE money to transfer to another school after the season’s over. "
I frown at this idea. Would it piss my father off if I chose a less prestigious, ‘football factory’ school?
Without a doubt. He's the one who decided everything regarding OMU. He’s an alum, that’s the bottom line, and he wants my legacy ass here.
So yeah, just the thought of his face if I told him I was transferring to another school for a shot at the biggest-time in college football might actually be worth it.
My eyes meet Dixie's and my thoughts take another direction.
I notice she's wearing a tight, low-cut dress that shows her off very well.
Just because I've decided not to sleep with her doesn't mean I don't notice her assets, and she has very advantageous ones, starting with those sumptuous tits that are practically on full display.
I swallow. Yes, just the sight of the half globes of tanned skin has already made me hard, and if she were older, I'd have a great time fucking her. I can easily imagine the sensation of my dick sliding between those two, slick with sweat, precum, and more.
The guy continues talking about football, but I'm completely not listening anymore. He notices and finally walks away without further ado. I'm totally focused on Alabama who raises a surprised eyebrow as she returns my gaze.
"Did you get hit in the head?" she asks me.
"No, why?"
"You've been staring at me with googly eyes for a while now."
"Are we jumping straight to name-calling?"
She shrugs before dipping her lips into the contents of her cup. My attention shifts to the beverage it contains. "What are you drinking?"
Alabama's eyes narrow in suspicion. "Why do you care? "
I clench my teeth. If this continues, she's going to think I'm interested in her. "To be honest, I couldn't give a fuck."
She takes another sip of her drink before answering me, "Aren't you supposed to have a bunch of girls ready to do that for you?"
I frown, and she clarifies, "Jerk you off, I mean. Because you seem to have been taking care of it yourself for quite some time."
The words die on her lips because I move toward her with a quick motion. She tilts her head up to maintain eye contact. I don't see any trace of fear in her eyes, and I don't know if I'm relieved or even more irritated by this. She should know that I represent a danger to her.
Except you've decided not to fuck her, so she has nothing to fear from you.
My voice is falsely gentle when I reply:
"Are you interested in my cock, Alabama?"
We're so close that I notice the slight blush rising to her cheeks. Yes, maybe that does interest her!
"Just ask nicely, and I'll let you watch when I fuck a woman."
She blinks several times. I'm certain she's never thought about this kind of scenario. I, on the other hand, am up for anything that allows me to have fun, in pairs, trios, or more.
"No thanks, I don't like horror movies," she finally responds. She puts her empty cup on a shelf and pretends to turn away from me, but I hold her back by the arm before whispering in her ear:
"You'd be surprised at what you might discover, Alabama. And I'm certain it would make you wet to see me take another woman from behind. I'm convinced you'd imagine yourself in her place."
When she looks up at me, I think I see desire in her eyes. She shakes her head though, replying, "Not everyone is as perverted as you, Player."
I give her a smirk. "You'd be surprised at what I could teach you."
Shit! I'm completely losing it! I don't want to fuck her!
"Such fine words," she says ironically. "Is that how you seduce women? Let me save you some wasted effort. It doesn't work on me."
She definitely has a knack for provoking me. When she says things like that, I could forget all my resolutions and accept the challenge she represents. Suddenly, the prospect of fucking her doesn't seem so pointless anymore.
I'm about to respond when a clap of thunder loud enough to shake the windows in their frames causes the electrical network to trip, plunging the house into darkness.
The music stops to the protests of those present.
A guy calls out in a booming voice, "Don't panic, we'll get everything back up and running!
In the meantime, drinks are on the house! "
Cheers rise up and a crowd surges toward the living room.
I sense Alabama's presence right next to me. Without thinking, I grab her arm and pull her along with me. It's only when we're outside on the covered porch that she breaks free from my grip:
"What the hell are you doing?" she yells over the roaring rain pounding the roof above our heads.
I look down at her. Her face is intermittently lit by the lightning that splits the clouds.
Her beauty hits me like a high-speed train, and all I can do is swallow while searching for words.
Frustrated, she says, "It's not that your good company bores me, but I'm going to head back inside. "
She turns around, but I catch her again. "Come on, I'll take you back to the dorm."
"Why would I follow you? "
"Do what you want, but the power won't come back on anytime soon and this party is going to take a bad turn. Besides, I'm sure you're tired after last night."
"Do you think it's a good idea to remind me how much of an asshole you were to me yesterday?" she asks. I release her and she turns to look me straight in the eyes. I read the reproaches she doesn't voice. At this point, I feel like a real jerk for treating her that way.
Without thinking, I put my hands in my pockets. "Do you want to go home or not?" I ask. Reaching up, I pull off my Jaguars hat I’m wearing and offer it to her. “Keeps the rain off.”
She scrutinizes me as if she's trying to read my thoughts. "I suppose that's the closest thing to a kind act coming from you," she finally says.
"I'm not a good guy, Alabama." I don't know why I'm telling her this. Maybe I need her to follow me with her eyes wide open.
She gives a small bitter laugh. "You think I hadn't noticed that?"