Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 9

  “I’ll do it.”

  “You’ll do it.”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, let’s go then.”

  “Let’s.”

  My toes tingle. My whole body feels tight and tense, but why? This is what I want, isn’t it? A true college experience?

  The rat-a-tat-tat of rain continues, a death march.

  “I think you know where the female changing rooms are,” says Blake, jogging ahead of me and pointing down past the pool.

  “If anyone comes, make a run for it.”

  This does little to appease my fast-declining courage. “Where will you be?”

  “I’ll get changed—undressed, I mean—over in the men’s changing rooms. I assume you don’t want to come out together, so I’ll jump in and yell the coast is clear. Towels are by the bench there.”

  I feign casualness. “No problem.”

  We head in separate directions. My heart rate triples as soon as he’s out of sight. I walk into the change rooms, sit down and try to catch my breath.

  I hear a splash outside. Blake shouts something and I silently curse him for rushing me along. I stand up and start undressing, placing my clothes on a seat near the door exactly the way I was wearing them in case they need to go back on in a hurry.

  This is what you want, isn’t it? Dad would freakin’ flip if he caught us. You’re twenty-one, idiot. Like he’s got any say over how you live your life.

  Soon I’m standing there naked. It’s cool and completely unnatural, which is funny when I think about it. I can hear sound beyond the door.

  You have lost your mind, Tia Reed.

  Ideally, the best way to approach the situation is to run and jump in, limbs akimbo and loose bits flailing like a completely free spirit. That’s how they do it in the movies, spur of the moment.

  Instead, I poke my head around the changing room’s entrance, my body pressed up against the cold wall.

  “Don’t look,” I announce, as loud as I can muster. My voice bounces off the windows and walls, reverberating with the rain and turning into something alien.

  That’s the right word. I feel so incredibly strange standing here in this situation. Vulnerable. I shake, more from the thought of stepping out than the actual cold. I have goose-bumps in places I didn’t even know you could get them, and while there are maybe only fifteen feet to the pool, it might as well be five hundred.

  “I’m not looking, see. I’m covering my eyes,” Blake shouts back.

  It’s dark. Blue light dances on the ceiling, the walls and windows. Mist reaches up off the surface. Blake is more of a shape than anything else. His body bounces up and down in the water, but with the ripples it was like looking into a broken mirror and certainly not the full-frontal peep-show I’d managed to conjure up in my mind’s eye earlier.

  Dang it.

  “Okay,” I shout, stepping out from behind the wall and walking towards the pool. “Don’t turn around. I mean it.”

  I creep forward in little steps to the pool’s edge with my arms wrapped around my upper and lower halves just in case.

  The tiles are ice cold as I pad along them. The alkaline, chemical smell is strong tonight. There is such a strong current of energy running though me I’m scared by jumping into the water I’ll electrocute myself.

  Fuck it.

  I give up my feeble attempt at modesty, let my arms go wide and dive head first into the water.

  I surface, dragging hair out of my face and eyes.

  Holy shit, I do feel free. I’m dizzy with it.

  Blake turns to face me, casually bobbing over. He keeps his eyes on mine, not letting them fall below the waterline. Atta boy, not that there’s anything to be seen thanks to the play of light on the surface abstracting everything below. Even so, I keep my arms out in front of myself protectively.

  “How does it feel?” he asks, breathing through the words.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I respond, everything coming out staccato from the effort of keeping myself afloat.

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Hang on, how do I know you’re not just wearing trunks under there?”

  “How do I know you’re not wearing bottoms?”

  “Because you have my word, that’s why.”

  “And you have mine. Isn’t that good enough?”

  This is new, being able to let go and trust someone completely. I mean, I’m naked in a college pool with womanizer most wanted. I could literally reach down and touch his dick. That says it all, doesn’t it?

  “I trust you,” I reply, though it comes out weak.

  “Okay then, how about I ask you one question, anything I like, then you can ask me one. Deal?”

  He’s gliding around in front of me, water rising up against the hard plates of his pectorals as he does so.

  I sink down in the water so only my eyes are showing, predatory.

  I bob up again. “Just one.”

  Blake draws his hand across the water. “What were you dreaming about last night?”

  How the hell did he know I was dreaming last night? Was he watching me? Does he silently sneak into my room and have his way with me? I’d prefer to be awake, of course, but…

  “You’ve got to be completely honest,” he says, as if sensing I’m preparing to strip away small truths.

  I draw in a breath, smoky wisps rushing in with it. “I was dreaming about what happened with my mom.”

  “That’s all you’re going to give me?”

  “I can’t talk about it, sorry, not yet.”

  “About what?”

  But I’m not ready. “Blake…”

  He puts his hands up. “Okay, okay. I won’t push.”

  “My turn,” I announce.

  He puts his palm out. “Continue.”

  I think about it. “Have you ever been in love, truly?”

  He looks up at the ceiling. “Any question and you go with that?”

  “So that’s a no?”

  He looks at me, eyes obsidian in the semi-dark. “No, but that’s not to say I don’t think it’s possible. I just haven’t found the right girl.”

  Until now, my head finishes.

  We swim around slowly for a while, testing the waters you might say. The rain drops in intensity, but there is still a resounding hollowness to the room that makes it feel completely isolated from the outside world.

  I have no doubt there’s something between us now. But that’s just it. I don’t know what to make of it or how to respond. I can act tough and confident when the time calls for it, but internally self-esteem is always pulling me back. You’re not good enough. Your hair’s too thick. You’re not funny and no-one in a sane frame of mind would think otherwise. This is what I tell myself. And then I remember the year gone by, all that happened and a knot balls up in my chest I can’t untie no matter how hard I look for distraction.

  Blake kicks out in front of me with a powerful stroke, scooping into the water with his hands, his shoulders rolling in and out. Every now and then one of his butt cheeks floats up garishly white and I’m helpless to suppress laughter. He somersaults back over to face me, too quick to make anything out, a scandalous smile panning out across his face.

  “I saw everything,” I announce, a lie.

  “You saw absolutely nothing and you know it,” he responds, kicking back towards me.

  I twist a strand of hair together and pull it back over my ear.

  In the back of my mind I’m waiting for the lights to come on, exposing us.

  There is a thrill in it. I’m in that perpetual state of nervousness you get waiting for a roller-coaster, and damned as it may be, three-thirds of me is enjoying it.

  I notice we’re closer than ever. I haven’t really moved around much, but the markings on the pool’s edge show we’re towards the deep end. My legs are tiring, but I can feel Blake’s kicking away ahead of me. I catch his eyes.

  We stare at each other for the longest time. My mind wanders, heat buil
ding between my spanned legs.

  Blake’s eyes are asking me to open up, and not out of guilt or pity. But I’m scared that by looking too far into them I might let him in completely and in the process lose the comfort being on the fringe of life allows.

  God, you’re serious sometimes, though the bare body below is telling a different story. I’m impressed with myself for going through with this. Still, some part of me doesn’t fully trust Blake’s motives, regardless of the fact he’s been nothing but a gentlemen tonight. He could have pulled his Loch Ness monster out the moment we hit the water.

  “Have you really done this before?” I ask, careful.

  He gives a little pout and shakes his head from side to side. If it wasn’t for the fact it’s immeasurably cute, I might be furious. I splash water at him instead, subconsciously trying to keep any dangly bits below water.

  He shakes it off and runs his fingers through his hair. “To be honest, I’m amazed you went through with it.”

  I take this little gold star with glee, trying to force the smile away but powerless to prevent it coming through.

  “There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” I say, adding a wink. It sounds massively cliché and a little stupid, but he smiles, big, wide and all-encompassing.

  “I could say the same. I’m a real box of surprises,” drawing his eyebrows up and down in a quick double-take.

  I rest my back against the edge of the pool, grip onto the small shelf with my fingers and listen to the water slurp in and out of the trough that runs around the edge. “How long have we been in?”

  “Maybe half an hour. We’ll start to prune soon.”

  “I guess we should get out.”

  “You first.”

  I shovel more water at him, splashing water in his face. “Just get out will you.” I don’t want to, but neither of us wants to make the first move even though I’m burning up inside with need.

  “Ladies first. That’s the rule.”

  “Fine, but you’ve got to look away again. Promise?”

  He gives me a little salute. I quietly quiver at the definition in his arm. You don’t get that kind of toning from slacking off.

  He rolls his body over and starts swimming to the far windows.

  I breast-stroke—how true that is—my way back to the far-left of the pool, gliding up to it and lifting myself out of the water as smoothly as I can before making my way to the changing rooms.

  I peek back briefly. Blake’s there, facing away with his elbows up on the tiles. I’m thankful he’s not looking in my direction, but somewhere deep inside me, where I’m wet and horny and desperately trying to calm myself, I’m hoping he has one eye on the reflection in the window.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BLAKE

  “Lane four, Tia Reed,” booms the PA.

  I clap my hands together. “Yeah, go Tia!”

  Coach Reed looks at me oddly. “You’re really taking this training thing to heart, aren’t you, son?”

  “Maybe I am. Fuck it. Is it so bad to want to see someone succeed?”

  A blip and the swimmers leap in unison. Tia gets a good start and remains well ahead of the others by the midway point.

  “Go!” I bellow. “Go!”

  She drops off a little, lanes five and six closing the gap, but she pulls it together in the last twenty to take it home.

  I literally jump off my seat. “Fuck yes!”

  A woman with her son in front of us turns around and glares. I sit. “Sorry.”

  Coach is smiling. “That’s my girl.”

  He looks to me. “You did good, son. Real good.”

  I nod, thankful for his praise. He has been good to me, the closest thing I ever had to a father figure.

  That’s why it’s going to be so fucking hard to betray his trust.

  *

  Tia holds up her medal. I’m more interested in the way it sits snugly between her breasts. “My first medal. Gold, too. Should I pawn it?” she laughs.

  “Medals, shmedals,” I tease. “I’ve got about fifty back at the apartment if you need another.”

  She rolls her eyes.

  “You fucking bitch.”

  I turn around to find Ethan standing there, eyes red and nostrils flared.

  I stand in front of Tia, push her behind me. “Hey. You better watch your mouth.”

  He points around me. “I know it was you.”

  Tia remains completely cool, standing over my shoulder. “All I remember is you getting really wasted. Can’t hold your liquor, can you? Besides, can’t say I was impressed after seeing ‘your goods’.”

  He shakes his head, twitches ready to pounce, but there are a lot of people around.

  I take a step towards him. “Get the fuck out of here, Ethan. She’s got nothing to say to you.”

  He turns his attention to me. “Fighting her battles now too, huh? You’re one of us, man. You think this bitch is any different than the others. You only need tits and pussy, bro. Not a brain.”

  I shove him hard. “I’m not your bro. Fuck off.”

  I look around, a few people watching on.

  He sees them too.

  “That’s him,” someone says. “From the picture.”

  He wants to say something else, lifting his finger, but the whispering continues. He leaves, getting out of there quick before more people recognize him. He’s famous, after all. The social media storm that followed after he was ‘discovered’ the morning after—epic. I just hope it hasn’t unhinged him further. Dosed up on who-knows-what he’s volatile and unpredictable. That’s what worries me.

  I turn back to Tia. “You’ve got to watch him.”

  She smiles. “Why? I’ve got you, don’t I?”

  *

  I’m comparing Tia’s medal to my own while she hits the shower.

  Billy’s watching the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills chowing down on Oreos like they’re going out of fashion.

  “You done stroking your ego over there?” he calls.

  “At least I’m not stroking something else,” I reply.

  He swivels around, looking over the back of the couch, the sound of the shower running in the background. “Don’t think I can’t see it.”

  I put the medals down. “See what?”

  He laughs. “You know very well. Every time you two are in the room you’re eye-sexing so hard I can almost see bodily fluids being exchanged.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about, brother.”

  Billy’s cheeks puff out. “Man, you’re heading into dangerous waters here. What’s Reed going to say when he finds out you’re balls deep in his daughter?”

  “We haven’t…”

  “But you’re Blake ‘Johnson’ Johnson, super-dick, Goliath, father of cocks. It’s going to happen, and what then? Head off to Reed and ask for his permission, his blessing for the fruit of his loins to suck you off?”

  I pick up an orange, tossing it into the air. If Reed does find out, it’ll be my head. “Always such a way with words, Billy.”

  “I am majoring in English, remember?”

  “And what does the Bard have to say about this?”

  “About dating your fill-in father’s most precious possession?” He thinks on it. “Given most of those poor suckers in love seem to wind up dead, I’m going to go with ‘not good’.”

  I put the orange back, slumping into a stool. “What the fuck do I do?” I can’t believe I’m asking a guy who duct-taped himself to the roof for dating advice.

  “It’s very simple: stay the fuck away from that pretty little pussy of hers.”

  “How do you know it’s pretty? She might have a Sarlac pit instead of a vagina for all you know.”

  Billy throws his hands up. “Jesus, you’re pulling out the Star Wars references now? She’s getting to you man, sliding under your skin. Let her get too deep and your balls will drop off.”

  I laugh. “Is this coming from experience?”

  “Okay, so I once had a case
of gonorrhea so bad they almost did fall off, but that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’ll say it again: stay the fuck away from her. There’s plenty more pussy for Goliath to slay out there in the Carver ocean.”

  He’s right, but he’s wrong, too.

  There are plenty of girls on campus yet to be sampled, true, but there’s only one who really matters.

  *

  I’m way off my game at training. My head’s too full. I’ve got too much going on with Tia, too much unresolved tension all built up and nothing to do about it. I should channel it into my swimming, but it’s having the opposite fucking effect.

  Coach shakes his head bewildered as I surface. “You’re a solid second behind Ethan. I can scream and carry on all day, but I’m going the Daddy route and simply saying I’m disappointed, son.”

  Fucking Ethan. I don’t understand how he’s managed to get ahead so much lately. You’re losing it. That’s why. You need to screw your head back on and get back to work.

  I crash into Ethan on my way into the changing rooms. It’s a genuine accident, but he loses it, thrusting me up against the wall with his arm under my neck. Usually I could take him, but this time I can’t pull his arm away.

  His eyes are red, crazed, teeth tight together. “I should fucking kill you,” he hisses.

  “Et—” I try to get out, but my voice is cut off as he presses his arm harder into my throat.

  He’s threatened me before, but those threats were empty. This time I believe him.

  I knee him in the balls, but it doesn’t do anything. The guy’s become fucking Iron Man.

  “You’re nothing,” he says, pressing harder and harder until my windpipe begins to buckle.

  I kick him in the legs, the shins, anything, but there’s no way he’s letting go.

  The pressure on my throat releases and I drop to the floor, Ethan walking away.

  Cutter slides up, yelling to his back, “Ethan, what the fuck are you doing, man?”

  Ethan simply collects his bag and keep walking.

  “Motherfucker.” Cutter places a hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

  “I will be,” I wheeze.

  “What the fuck was with Terminator there?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve got no idea, but something’s up with him—something seriously fucked up.”