Chapter 24 #2
I prop the phone up on the nightstand next to me and shimmy out of my briefs only to drop them on the floor.
“You’re already hard,” she says.
“Woke up with a hard-on. Had a sex dream about you last night.”
“Mmm, tell me what I did,” she says as she moves her hands over her breasts.
My mouth waters from the sight of her. “We were at my place, making dinner together.”
“You don’t know how to cook.” She smirks.
“Didn’t stop me from trying in my dream. You were wearing one of my button-up shirts with nothing else.”
“Sounds about right.” She pinches her nipples, and I grip the base of my erection and squeeze.
“I propped you up on the counter, laid you down, and explored every inch of your body with my tongue.”
“Did you undo my shirt and let it fall open?”
I nod. “Yeah, and I sucked on your tits for what seemed like forever.”
“I love when you do that,” she says as I start to move my hand up and down. “Were you hard in your dream?”
“So fucking hard, like I am right now.”
“Let me see,” she says, her beautiful eyes fluttering open. I take the phone, and I turn the camera around so she can see my hand on my cock, pumping. “God, that’s so sexy.”
“Let me see you touch your pussy,” I say as my grip grows tighter.
She picks up her phone as well and offers me the same angle. Her bare pussy comes into view right before her hand slides over it, and her finger glides over her slit. “Silas, I wish this was your tongue.”
“Me too, baby,” I say as a light sheen of sweat breaks out over my skin.
“What else happens? Did you fuck me on the counter?”
Knock. Knock.
I glance over toward the entryway of my door.
Fuck, is that housekeeping? I put up the do not disturb. They should leave me alone.
“Silas.”
“Huh? Oh sorry, what did you say?” I ask.
Knock. Knock.
“Dude, open up,” Posey says.
“Is someone knocking on your door?” Ollie asks.
“Yeah,” I grumble as I flip the camera around. “I think it’s—”
The door beeps to unlock, and it opens. Posey, Pacey, and Holmes come charging in. I have about two seconds to cover myself up before they see me.
“What the actual fuck,” I yell as I turn the screen of my phone face down so they can’t see Ollie. This is why I shouldn’t give a spare key to the guys. I thought it was a good idea, given I tend to sleep through an alarm occasionally, but this is not cool.
“We need to talk . . .” Posey’s voice dies down as he takes in the scene in front of him. “Uh . . . were you . . .”
I pick up the phone, and luckily, Ollie is covered and waiting for me. “I’ll call you back, babe.”
“Okay,” she says right before I hang up.
“What the hell is going on?” I ask. As my three friends all exchange glances. “What?” I shout.
“Was that Ollie?” Pacey asks.
“Yes,” I say, annoyed. “And you’re fucking interrupting.”
“Sorry, but . . . you need to read this,” Posey says as he walks up to me and hands me his phone.
Completely confused, I look down at the screen and read the headline of an article.
“Even Hockey Players Can’t Have it All.”
Byline: Ollie Owens.
I glance up at them. “Is this Ollie’s article?” They nod. “Well, Jesus, why are you barging in here? I’ve read it already.”
“Have you?” Pacey asks.
“Yes,” I say. “Before she turned it in.”
Posey looks almost gray as he says, “So you were cool with her talking about . . . about what happened with Sarah?”
“Wait, what?” I ask as my heart stills in my chest, all air escaping from my lungs.
“It’s, uh . . . it’s in there,” Holmes says as he pushes his hand through his hair in distress. “How she cheated on you.”
“No, the fuck it’s not,” I say, tossing the phone back. “She wouldn’t have written that.”
“Dude,” Pacey says softly. “It’s in there.”
“Where?” I say, swimming in the lane of denial.
Posey picks up the phone, and he scrolls through it. Then hands me the phone.
My eyes zero in on the start of the paragraph.
And after a long road trip, where the boys are beaten up and ready for a homecooked meal, there’s nothing more they want to go home to than their family and loved ones.
Unfortunately for Silas Taters, that wasn’t always the case.
The Agitators paint their organization as picture perfect, but when you lift the veil, you’re offered a glimpse into another side of the story, a side where their players can’t seem to make their loved ones happy.
It’s probably not the first time this has happened, but it’s the first confirmed time on record that our Agitators aren’t perfect.
Silas Taters’s former girlfriend cheated on him.
The phone slips out of my hand as my eyes remain fixed on the spot in front of me.
No.
There’s no fucking way.
She wouldn’t do that to me.
She cares about me. She knows the damage. She understands the trust issues I suffer. She wouldn’t use me as a piece in her article . . . right?
I read through it.
I approved it . . .
And then something sticks out in my head. The day she told me she turned it in, she said she made some changes. Were these the changes?
“Silas,” Holmes says softly. “What can we do, man?”
“I . . . I don’t fucking know,” I say as I lean back on the headboard. “I don’t fucking believe it.” Then immediately, I ask, “Who wrote that? What’s the name on the article?”
“It’s Ollie,” Pacey says. “Byline, Ollie Owens.”
“You told her about Sarah and what happened, right?” Posey asks.
“I did, but . . . she swore she wouldn’t say anything to anyone.” I shake my head, unable to comprehend this. “She wouldn’t do that . . . would she?”
My mind flies fast with ideas, with notions of what could have happened, but out of all of the scenarios, one thing keeps sticking out in my mind . . . her need to prove herself. Her need to do right by Roberts.
My lips roll together as my teeth grind down.
“Silas . . .” Posey asks.
“She wouldn’t fucking dare,” I say, rage taking over the shock.
“Tates, maybe we get you out of bed, showered, talk about this,” Pacey suggests, but I shake my head.
“No, I need you to leave. Right fucking now.” My fists clench at my side.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Holmes says.
“I said fucking leave,” I yell, startling all three of them.
Pacey nods his head toward the door, and Holmes follows him. Posey hangs back for a second and says, “I’m here for you, Silas. If you need me, you just ask.”
I don’t say a word, I just stare at my phone, rage beating through me. What if this was Sarah? What if she had something to do with it?
Or what if . . . the girl I thought I fucking loved has decided to fuck me over . . . just like Sarah?
I whip off my covers and go to the shower, my anger so heavy in my chest that I feel like I can’t breathe.
I can only imagine what the comments section is saying, what other news sites are going to read the article and then toss their own spin on me.
Because that’s what they do. One article comes out with the news, and the rest just circulate it with additional “facts.”
So now everyone will fucking know about my private life.
Everyone will know the kind of man I am.
How I can’t make a woman happy.
How I’m a fucking loser who a girl cheats on.
My biggest, darkest, most embarrassing part of my life is now out on display. I’ve been played for a fool again. She came after me, pushed me...all to get fucking ahead in her career.
I slip into the shower once the water is warm, and instead of washing my body off, I feel myself lean against the tile as I try to catch air into my lungs.
Fuck, how could I be so stupid?
She’s used me from the very beginning.
From the very fucking beginning, and I chose to look past it.
I slide down to the bottom of the shower and push my hands through my hair as the water surrounds me.
My eyes well with tears, and as I curl my fingers into fists, I feel my tears fall.
Nothing feels worse than this. Ollie swore she’d never cheat on me, and perhaps that was true.
But her promises didn’t extend to using me for her career, did it?
No one had to know about what Sarah did, and their ignorance meant I was saved from the embarrassing scrutiny.
And my heart? It feels as though it’s been ripped right out of my chest.
I’ve given Ollie so much of myself, things Sarah never knew about. I was ready to see a new future. A happier future. But that was only possible through trust. And trust has once again been shattered.
Sarah might have bent me, but Ollie . . . she just fucking broke me.