21. Brent
21
Brent
“ T hank you, Brent, for an amazing weekend.”
I frown. Is Joey giving me the brush-off? I’m not conceited enough to think that only I am allowed to do the quick “thanks, it was fun” departure, but…Well, I have been the only one to do that in all my encounters.
But this isn’t an encounter. This is Joey…Josie. Sweet, beautiful, sexy Josie.
What the hell am I thinking? This was supposed to be a one-time thing. Help her lose her virginity. That’s it.
Having her for the entire weekend was a bonus, but the premise is still the same as it is with any other woman. Enjoy great sex and move on, like I always do.
I’ve avoided any type of relationship since a bad experience in college taught me to be more careful. Even before then, I knew what I wanted out of life, and it wasn’t to be tied down to a woman who wanted a home, hearth, and family. Or one who saw me as a ticket to the rich-and-famous lifestyle. I’ve had enough of women and responsibility since my father and brother died.
At fourteen years old, I became the man of the house overnight, responsible for four females with another on the way. I had to figure out, with help from my father’s station-house friends, how to make my father’s death benefits last. Family and friends offered what they could in the beginning, but the financial needs far outweighed what anyone could afford to give.
It was up to me to make ends meet when funds ran out due to Bobbie’s surgeries. I even got a part-time job on top of school and sports, neither of which I was giving up because they were my ticket to a more secure future.
I was fortunate to have received a football scholarship to Conn State, though it wasn’t the school of my choice. It was only an hour from home, allowing me to leave for college without too much guilt. I came home as often as possible, but I passed on most of the running of the house to Stevie.
My single-minded focus was to excel in both football and academics. Either one of those was going to be my ticket to financial freedom for my family, which meant freedom for me. I relieved my stress with intense, body-numbing workouts instead of sex. The hours in the gym turned me into a stronger, more muscular, and more powerful player. That, in turn, allowed Coach to switch me from being a fast and decent wide receiver to a powerful, multifunctional tight end. The result was game-changing, for the team and for my personal performance, allowing me to enter the draft early.
I was lucky enough to be drafted by the Sailors, though I worried and felt guilty for moving across the country. I eased my conscience by using every spare penny I earned to pay off the family debts. By the second year, I was able to set up trust funds, meager as they were at first, for my sisters and a retirement fund for my mother. It wasn’t until my third year I felt secure enough to spend any money on myself.
During the off-seasons, I finished my college degree and pursued my MBA to prepare myself for a life after football as more than just a silent partner with Niko in our various business enterprises.
I did all I could for years to be responsible. Only in the last couple of years have I truly felt free to enjoy my life and everything I worked for. I’m relishing my playboy lifestyle that’s filled with nothing but football, beautiful women, and fast cars. But life is uncertain, and it can change in a heartbeat. Knowing it can all be taken away from me in an instant, I’m going to savor every moment.
I still have years more to make up for all the time I missed. I’m not ready to give up my freedom yet, even for spectacular sex with Joey. It was pretty fucking amazing—even the sweetly inept but incredibly arousing blowjob she gave me. And I’ve never stared into a woman’s eyes during sex. It has always felt too intimate, but with Joey, I couldn’t tear my gaze away until the very end.
Why am I thinking about all that now? All she said was thank you , not marry me .
But the look in her eyes makes my chest tighten. I ignore the sensation and say, “The pleasure was all mine, baby. Really.” I wiggle my eyebrows and give her an exaggerated leer, making her smile. I plant a loud, smacking kiss on her mouth, then put some much-needed distance between us. “Get up, lazybones. The car will be here soon to take you to the airport.”
I conclude my business in San Diego, then go to Los Angeles for the Rolex shoot, where I feel like an idiot as I stand and pose as the director tells me. I remind myself that the embarrassment will last only a few hours, and I’ll be able to donate a large chunk of my earnings to charity. In fact, my last piece of business in LA is a nonprofit event filled with celebrities.
But all the while, in the back of my mind, I keep thinking of Joey and what she would make of all this. She’d be wide-eyed and blushing as she took it all in—the red carpet, the paparazzi, the celebrities.
I shake my head. I have to stop thinking about her like a lovestruck fool. The best way to forget her is to take advantage of all the beauty on display and find another woman.
A pretty cocktail waitress stops to offer me a drink. I automatically check her out but lose all interest when I notice she barely reaches my armpit and her hair is too short and too light. Ignoring her flirtatious smile, I take a sip of my drink and mingle.
After a half hour of making polite talk with countless people, I realize my plan has a fatal flaw. I’m extremely bored, and no one appeals enough to pick up for a quick bang. I didn’t think it was possible to ever get tired of hot women and one-night stands.
I have years of playing, in every sense of the word, still left, yet I’m standing by myself near the bar, thinking about heading back to the hotel.
“Hey, stranger.”
I stiffen at the familiar voice, one I haven’t heard in almost ten years. Reluctantly I turn to face the woman who taught me to stay away from relationships. She’s still beautiful, but there are lines of dissatisfaction around her eyes and mouth despite the bright smile she sports. We dated for over a year, long enough for me to recognize her penchant for putting up a front in public.
“Caitlyn.” I don’t smile back.
“Fancy running into you here. Funny how we never ran into each other while you were still living on this side of the country, but we meet up when you come to visit all the way from New York.”
“We’re not exactly meeting up here.”
“Oh, a figure of speech, darling.” She puts her hand on my arm and leans in, laughing up at me. She’s a good foot shorter, even in her heels. I used to think her petiteness was cute, but being able to meet Joey’s eyes almost directly without craning my neck is so much more enjoyable. Especially when she’s lying beneath me. The thought makes me smile, but a bright flash out of the corner of my eye wipes it away.
Damn it! I’d forgotten about the reporters who are roaming around the event, brought in to spread more publicity for the charity. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but I very much mind being photographed with my ex-girlfriend.
“What do you want?” I ask, taking a step away from her.
“You’ve become so cynical, Brent. I merely wanted to say hi to an old friend.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean wh—”
“Cut the crap, Cait. I know you. You must believe I’m dumb as a rock if you think I’ve forgotten what you did.”
“Brent! Please. I was young and stupid and—”
“So was I, but I’m not anymore.” Without another word, I stride away.
I leave the event, pretending not to see those who try to gain my attention on my way out. I have a strong urge to talk to Joey. The thought makes me pause.
Since when did Joey become the first person I want to talk to when I’m stressed? It’s usually Niko, sometimes Scott or one of my teammates, and on rare occasions Stevie, but never a woman I’ve slept with.
But I remember how much I enjoyed talking with Joey, how fun and open she was despite her shyness, with no fakeness or ulterior motives. Because she was so real, I was able to relax and be myself.
I miss that already. I want to experience it again. But after what we did, how will she behave when we see each other again? Will she be like she was over the weekend, or will she revert to the quiet, jumpy girl she usually is around me? I won’t be able to stand it if she closes up again.
And I don’t know if I’ll be able to endure the physical therapy sessions after having had her hands on every part of my body. I want that again too, right now. Shit. That’s why no other woman interested me tonight. I want Joey. But I can’t have her because…
Who says I can’t?
I nod to myself. That’s right. Who says we can’t continue the sexual part of our…relationship? The word makes me hesitate, but I rationalize that even friendships are relationships.
We’re both adults, and she’s an independent, self-sufficient woman. And no longer a virgin.
Wait. Does that mean she’s ready to move on with other men? Hell, if she wants to continue having sex now that she’s gotten a taste of it, she can do it with me.
My only concern is what happens after the sex. She’s going to be cooking meals in my kitchen, spending time in my private domain. I’d be an asshole for kicking her out of my bed and sending her back home afterward every night.
Besides my issues from growing up with a houseful of females, I learned soon after going pro to never bring a woman back to my place for the night. But Joey already knows where I live and has been inside my apartment several times.
I can stay at her place instead. And it’s not like we’d really be dating. It would be more of an extension of our friendship. There’s even a term for it, which must mean it’s pretty common.
Friends with benefits.
That’s what we would be. It could work, I convince myself. Feeling better at having resolved everything in my mind, I look forward to seeing her again.