Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 4

  I grab my coffee with both hands, hold it in my lap warm against my crotch. “Swimming.”

  “Cool,” Leah nods.

  “She’s rooming with Blake Johnson,” Lacey adds, a little more proudly than I’d like.

  That gets their attention. They each take a seat, flanking me. I’m not used to being surrounded like this. I pull a little tighter into myself. “It’s nothing, really, temporary until Dad can find me my own place.”

  “Coach Reed,” adds Lacey again, filling them in.

  Lexie leans forward. “The plot thickens.”

  “It would be the only thing thickening,” Lacey laughs.

  Leah shifts her chair a little closer. “You’ve seen the elite squad’s little Fuckbook project then, I take it?”

  Lacey looks visibly uncomfortable, but she manages to pull it back together. “I haven’t had time to fill her in.”

  I act dumb. “Fuckbook?”

  “Real Pulitzer material,” continues Leah, “a website with all the girls they fuck, rated, pictures—the works”.

  I hold my tongue before I ask what girl would be stupid enough to allow herself to sleep with these guys so casually before letting them take photos and upload them for the world to see.

  “No faces are shown,” Lexie butts in, “but everyone knows who the girls are. It’s almost like they do it for the fame.”

  “And how do you know who the guys are?” I query.

  Two seconds later Leah has thrusted her phone in my face with the offending website. She points below a highly compromising picture of what appears to be the backside of a Latino girl. “See?” she says. “This post was put up by user Goliath. That’s Blake Johnson.”

  “Yep, getting that loud and clear.”

  Lexie’s looking at me like I’m the Holy Father. “I can’t believe you’re living with him. I mean, wow, just wow. Have you seen it?”

  “Seen what?” I feign, knowing full well what she’s after.

  Leah shakes her head. “His womb broom, his porridge gun, Dora the Explorer—you know.”

  “No,” I state, “I have not”.

  Lexie smiles. “Oh, you will. Like the moon, it’s fucking hard to miss.”

  *

  I had a fun day with the ‘Triple Ls’, as they call themselves. I can’t really fathom the idea of having real friends, fellow sisters in life to share things with. It’s an abstract concept I’ve yet to come to terms with being an only child, but one I’m coming to understand is essential to college life.

  I see the distorted figure of Blake standing at the end of the lane. I break out of the water, reaching for the wall, gasping and trying to fill lungs with air instead of concrete.

  He looks down at his stopwatch. “Fifty-nine. Not bad, but you’ve got to push a lot harder through the last twenty if you want to take out the competition at the meet next week.”

  “The meet?” First I’ve heard of it.

  He reaches down and I take his hand, allowing myself to be pulled from the water, trying as hard as I can to avert my eyes from the delicious way his arm hardens and bulges as he does so. I catch myself staring at his shorts thinking about this mysterious appendage and wondering whether all this talk is true.

  You know you want it.

  Shut up, Brain.

  “Regional colleges, nothing major, but a win looks good to selectors,” he continues, all business.

  I put my hands on my hips, chest heaving, my breasts lifting up and down constrained in my swimsuit, the lights suddenly too bright and this cap crushing my skull. “You think I could win?”

  He drops his chin to his chest and flicks one eye up, a move that would make James Dean blush. “With me behind you, you bet your ass you’re going to win.”

  *

  A sock on Billy’s door informs me some unfortunate girl is busy getting plowed by that wildebeest. As much as I love listening to the sounds of primal copulation, I close my door and throw on my headphones, letting myself relax for a few hours catching up with my guild in World of Warcraft.

  I’m deep into a good looting near Agmond’s End when two heavy hands fall on my shoulders. I jump so high I almost bounce off the roof.

  I spin in my chair outraged, Blake killing himself with laughter.

  I take off my headphones. “You can’t just come in here whenever you feel like it! This isn’t a 7-11. Didn’t you see the door?”

  He sits on my bed and I can’t help but picture him in it, tied up in my sheets, naked and ready for me. A flicker of need electrifies my clit. I twitch in the chair.

  Whoa, get a grip, Tia.

  He points behind himself. “Your door was open, genius.”

  I’m finding it a bit hard to calm down. “And that gives you a right to invade my personal space?”

  “Hey,” he smiles, “I’ll invade your personal space any time. Just say the word.”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”

  He puts a hand up, turns his head sideways. “Okay, sorry. Old habits die hard, but really, what are you doing?”

  “Why, you bored? No girls to bed tonight like Billy, no one to add to your Fuckbook?”

  Boom. Headshot. He sobers up real fast. “You found out about that, huh?”

  “Seems you’re the talk of campus, or your dick is, rather—one and the same as far as I can tell.”

  He scratches the side of his neck, a perfect patch of skin waiting for my lips to press upon it. “It’s stupid, really stupid, I know, but—”

  I laugh. “You’re going to try to justify it? Come on.”

  “Fine,” he says, standing and walking around the room, examining my things, “it’s what the girls around here expect now. They want to be on that site. They beg me to take their photo, give them a good rating. Guess it just got out of hand.”

  “Win-win for you and your squad buddies then.”

  He picks up a DVD off my shelf. “Guess so.” He faces the DVD towards me. “Major geek factor detected.”

  I can’t stop rolling my eyes at this clown. “Star Wars is a cinematic masterpiece. It hardly marks me as a,” I use my fingers for air quotes, “‘major geek’.”

  He tosses it onto my bed. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen it.”

  I back up a bit in my chair. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’ve never seen Star Wars?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope, and so what? I’m sure there’s plenty of stuff you’ve never done, am I right?”

  If only you knew…

  He looks to my shelves. “I mean, where are all your trophies and medals?”

  “I’ve never won any.”

  Now it’s his turn to reel back. “You’re kidding me? Not even a participation award, a you-tried-your-hardest-pumpkin medallion?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing.”

  He comes a little closer, hard plates of muscle shifting under his tank top, that dragon tatt alive on his arm. He points to the screen. “World of Warcraft, right?”

  “It is.”

  He peeks around my head. “Looks kind of cool.”

  “It requires a functioning brain, sorry.”

  He laughs, looking to the ceiling. “Wow, you really don’t hold back, do you?”

  “With a known womanizer? No, I do not.”

  “I have an idea, he says, sitting on the edge of my desk, groaning in response.

  I cross my arms. “Here we go, and if it’s a request to go on your little website I’m damn well going to snap that celebrity dick of yours clean in half.”

  He winces before tapping my monitor. “Teach me how to play World of Warcraft and I’ll get you a nice, shiny medal—guaranteed.”

  “You can’t guarantee that,” I scoff.

  He looks me up and down. “Sure I can. You’re a bit rough around the edges now, but give it a week and you’ll be kicking ass in the pool.”

  “Why on earth would I want to teach you how to play my most beloved game?”

  “Admit it, you can’t say no to me. I’ll even throw in a viewi
ng of Star Wars. You choose the time and place.”

  Popping his Star Wars cherry—now that is appealing. I’ve always wanted a Star Wars virgin to call my own.

  Don’t you dare do it. This guy is a panty tractor beam. You know better.

  “Okay,” I reach out and shake his hand, “but I mean, you know stuff about Star Wars, right? You haven’t been living under a cultural rock your whole life, have you?”

  “I know things,” he replies, but he sure doesn’t look certain about it.

  Let’s put you to the test Jerky McCutebutt. “Come on then. If you could be any Star Wars character, who would you be?”

  “The guy with the mask and the breathing… what’s-his-name.”

  I raise my left brow. “Darth Vader?”

  “Yeah, him.”

  “One of the most evil characters created with a face like a hemorrhoid and ultimately killed by his own son?”

  Less certainty. “Sure, and you?”

  Nice deflection, smartass. I pretend to think on this, even though I’ve been through it a hundred times in my head. “Princess Leia Organa. I mean, every girl wants to be a princess, right? It would be nice to be the damsel in distress for once.”

  “And who have you rescued lately, pray tell?”

  “You?”

  “Me?” he laughs. “From what? A social life?”

  Got you. “From expulsion.”

  “You got me there,” he concedes, tucking a thumb into the waistband of his pants.

  The tingle between my legs grows. I bring my eyes back to his face. “Princess Leia sees her fair share of fighting, too, isn’t a complete pushover, and I’d get to bang Han Solo, the most dreamy and bad-ass man in the entire universe.”

  “Dang,” he snaps his fingers, “thought I had that one in the bag”. The thumb in his waistband pulls his pants lower, a defined arrowhead pointing past his Adonis belt to…

  Oh hell. “You thought wrong.”

  “The guy’s seventy-something. You got a thing for older guys?”

  “Harrison Ford might be, but Han is twenty-nine BBY, thank you very much.”

  Blake looks left, right. “BB-what?”

  “Years before the Battle of Yavin.”

  “Now you’ve lost me.”

  “Aw,” I stand and tap him in the head, “too much for that pea brain of yours to comprehend? Better get back to your cartoons and Spiderman PJs.”

  “I’ve got more important things to do than study up on geek culture.”

  I shrug. “Your loss.”

  My phone goes off the same time Blake’s does.

  It’s Ethan. There’s a party in the training gym.

  Blake’s grinning at me, teeth white and gleaming. Teeth of a shark. “Well, Princess, shall we?”

  *

  The party turns out to be a small gathering of swimmers and random students drinking beer and reclining on crash mats. Cutter’s in the foam pit humping foam, another guy I recognize from the pool trying, and failing, to walk a balance beam with red cup in hand. A single lantern in the middle of the room provides light.

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to be in here,” I tell Blake.

  He leads us into the center of the room, clearly stiffening beside me when Ethan reaches out for my hand. I don’t really know why, but I take it.

  Ethan pulls me into his chest, sniffing my hair. “You smell great.” He’s watching Blake as he says it.

  I push back, standing away. “Easy, buster.”

  “Just playing,” he smiles. “Beer?”

  “Sure,” I smile.

  When he’s gone, it’s Blake who takes my arm. I sling it off. “What?”

  “Be careful around Ethan, okay?”

  “Yes, Dad, but you should know telling me not to do something only makes me want to do it more.”

  “I’m serious,” he whispers, and he is—deadly serious. But I don’t belong to him. I don’t belong to anyone. I’ll do what I want, carpe diem and all that. Don’t I deserve some fun after everything I’ve been through?

  Ethan returns with the beers, pressing one into my hand and guiding me away from Blake. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  I nod, watching as Blake fumes when Ethan places his hand on my back and draws us away.

  I’m a little nervous as we enter the men’s showers. “Ethan, I—”

  He comes in front of me, walks forward until my back is against the tiles, a shower handle pressing into my ass. He goes to kiss me, but I tilt my head away. “Ethan, you seem nice enough, but—”

  He places a finger on my lips. “Don’t say anymore.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a baggie. “How about we really get this party started?”

  “Aren’t you guys tested?”

  He sniffs. “You’re right. I can’t, but you can. This is top-shelf shit right here. It would be downright rude to pass it up.”

  I take a step sideways. “Thanks, really, but no. I’m not into that stuff.”

  He shifts to come in front of me again, leans forward to press my back against the wall a little harder. “How about sucking cock? You into that?”

  I try to swing under his arm. “I’m out of—”

  He presses me back against the tiles, a little too firmly now. I look into his eyes and there’s danger there. Alarm bells are ding-a-fucking-linging big-time. “Let me go,” I state, firm.

  He places a meaty hand next to my head, leans in and sniffs at my throat. “Come on. I bet you deep-throat like a pro.”

  I can’t believe the change that has come over him. Well, I can, given our first meeting, but this is taking it way too far. I press against his chest, but it’s a solid wall. “Let me pass, or…”

  “Or what?” he laughs.

  I heave my knee up between his legs and drive it into his balls.

  He gives a choking gasp and crumples before me, grabbing his nuts.

  I don’t wait a second longer. I get the hell out of there before he does a T1000 and resurrects himself.

  When I come out, flustered, I see Blake. He looks hella-pissed, but I’m not in a mood to deal with him too. I high-tail it back to the apartment, the cold night air a welcome respite.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BLAKE

  I’m used to the front door slamming, but usually it’s from yet another can’t-remember-your-namer, not a fellow occupant.

  I almost laugh it’s so out of character for Tia. Almost, because she doesn’t look like she’s in the mood for frivolity.

  You hardly know her.

  It’s true. I don’t know her, but I can see she’s not the deceptive type, someone to two-face or backstab others to benefit themselves. In many ways, she’s a breath of fresh air in this sweaty armpit of a school.

  She looks surprised that I’m back before she is, but she doesn’t know the shortcut.

  “Rough night, huh?” I start. “I did warn you.”

  “Shut up,” comes the blunt response as she slips past me on the way to her room.

  “You don’t want to talk about it?”

  “No thanks, Oprah.”

  And the door to her room slams closed.

  Billy emerges from his own looking every part the Neanderthal. He looks to Tia’s door. He looks to me. “Women, man.”

  “Amen, bother,” I nod. “A-fucking-men.”

  *

  I’m still thinking about Tia’s grand entrance last night as I push through training. The sun’s yet to show itself and Reed’s pushing us harder than ever. Seems the entire Reed family woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

  Coach walks down the pool beside us. “What the fuck?! Do I have to pour some piranhas in there to get your asses moving?”

  Admittedly, the entire squad’s been a sluggish of late—all except Ethan, who’s powering ahead again like he’s got a 12V stuck up his starfish.

  Coach is clawing at his hair—what hair he has left. I swear he’s about to have a coronary any second.

  I hit th
e wall and surface a full second behind Ethan.

  Ethan looks to me with red, bulbous eyes. I’ve seen him in form before, but this is different. Dude looks possessed. His head snaps up when he hears Coach’s voice. “Coach?”

  Reed’s smiling, every bit the proud father. “Good work, EK. Show these other jackasses how it’s done.”

  “I can do better,” Ethan replies, deadpan. That’s all he says these days: ‘I can do better’, over and over

  Fuck, he really has become a robot.

  Coach crouches down next to the blocks. “I hear you, son, but don’t be too hard on yourself.”

  Out of fucking nowhere Ethan stands pounding the butt of his palm into his forehead. “I. Can. Do. Fucking. Better.” He repeats it, pounding and pounding.

  I reach over from my lane, try to put a stop to it, but he hits me hard in the jaw, hard enough to send me back into the water.

  I surface spluttering, about to slug the fucker back, but he’s managed to pull himself from the pool, completely ignoring Coach while he continues to smack his head.

  “Son!” yells Coach, but either Ethan’s ignoring him or he’s too caught up in the meltdown to hear him.

  I hold my jaw. At least he swims better than he punches.

  Right before he gets to the showers, Ethan head-butts the wall. Even from the pool I hear tiles crack against his skull, see the red spatter of blood bloom out around it. Thing is, if he’s in pain, he doesn’t show it. He just keeps on walking into the showers.

  Coach looks on bewildered. Cutter swims up next to me. “What the fuck was that all about?”

  I shake my head. “No fucking idea.”

  By the time I get in there to see what the hell’s going on, maybe dial up a fist sandwich of my own, Ethan’s already gone.

  *

  Sitting in such close proximity to Tia is almost more than I can take. Every time she leans over the keyboard to show me something I’m hit with her smell—lightly floral and minty, sweet. Bottle it up and Viagra stocks would plummet.

  We never did talk about why she came home so pissed the other night, but I’m certain Ethan is behind it, that fucker. I should confront him, knock some teeth out if I have to. We might have been close once, but not anymore, not if he’s touched her, hurt her. Whatever the case, I’m simply happy things are back to normal.