Dirty Game

And what I needed was to stop cock blocking myself. In the past month every time I got to this point I made an excuse for why I had to get home or back to my hotel room. Sometimes I led the girl outside just so the guys didn’t see me back out at the last minute. They didn’t know I hadn’t fucked anyone this season. It wasn’t any of their damn business.

Did I think something was going to change? That somehow Sierra was going to be someone she wasn’t? That if I held off on other women for a little longer that it meant something? Because it fucking didn’t. It didn’t mean anything to her. And I wasn’t eighteen any longer. I had let her punch me in the heart back then—I was too old for that kind of game now. Jessica was my kind of game.

The kind where the only thing that mattered was sex and football. No emotions. No feelings. No way to get hurt.

I looked at the brunette. “Want to get out of here?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “I was worried you weren’t going to ask.”

That had been her intention from the moment she touched me. I scooped my hand around her waist and headed toward the door. Tonight I was going to put the summer behind me. I would finally get Sierra out of my system.

I had managed to turn things around on the field. This was my last obstacle to getting complete control.

I shoved the door open and Jessica walked ahead of me. Her ass was round and tight. I groaned to myself, knowing what I should want to do to it. How six months ago, I would have kissed her and stroked her in the parking lot until she begged for more.

“My hotel is this way.” I pointed, staying a step or two behind her so I could take in her legs. I followed her thighs, watching them slice back and forth. Nothing.

She fumbled with her purse and I heard something drop to the pavement. “Shit,” she whispered. She bent over, the jersey hung loosely from her chest, and I caught a full glimpse of her heaving tits. Fuck. My cock should be hard as steel by now.

I shook my head.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Darlin’, I think I’m just going to make sure you get home. I’ll hail a cab for you.”

“What? Why? Did I do something?” Her face fell with disappointment.

I stood on the sidewalk, waving down any yellow taxi I could. One pulled up to the cubr and I opened the passenger door for her.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing at all. Not a damn thing.”

And that was the truth. This woman dripped of sex. And it didn’t do anything for me. I didn’t want her.

“But maybe breakfast?” she pleaded.

I shook my head. “Not this trip. Have a good night.”

“But—”

I closed the door and tapped the top of the cab to send her back into traffic. I watched the taillights fade as the taxi rounded the corner.

Maybe tonight I had been ready to let go of the anger, but I crossed the street knowing I wasn’t ready to let go of everything else. Not yet.

34

Sierra

I managed to make it through another week before I knew exactly what I had to face.

At our round table production meeting I had rushed out of the conference room, feigning a stomach virus. I had ended up in the women’s room throwing up into the first trash can I could find.

There was also my sudden aversion to poultry. Just the thought of a turkey sandwich or a drumstick made me gag. It was the weirdest thing. It came out of nowhere. And I was late. I never kept track of my period, but I was beyond late. It all added up to one explanation. One impossible, hard-to-believe, unreal explanation.

I walked into the drugstore. At the end of the family planning aisle was a shelf with box after box of kits and tests. There were so many options with purple and pink labels they made my head spin. I grabbed the first three I spotted and rushed to the counter. I didn’t read the percentages or the response rates.

The clerk took his time ringing me up and even asked if I wanted to join the rewards club.

“No,” I shuffled impatiently on my feet. I had finally gotten up the courage to walk in here and I had to pee something fiercely. “I’m good.”