Sacking The Player

I shrug. “Amaya is different. And that’s all you’re getting out of me. My business, not yours.”

Big Tex whistles.

I look to him and cut him off with a look. “Don’t. I’m going to bed. Anyone that doesn’t live in this room needs to leave.” I stomp to my room and shut the door, laying on my bed.

Would Amaya still be up?

Should I go to her, kiss her?

Would she slap me?

Fuck, I sound like a woman.

Amaya has me wrapped around her finger tighter and she doesn’t even know it. I’m going to have to avoid her for the next day or two, just to grow my dick back. Which is shitty, since I was hoping to surprise her, by taking her to that damn ballet she’s going to see.

I’m afraid that would be too much too soon. I lay in bed tossing my football up to the ceiling and catching it.

I should be studying the playbook, for the big game, but those damn kissable lips of Amaya’s dominate my thoughts until I fall asleep.

**

It’s probably better that I’m planning to avoid my girl today. My plate is full. I have an hour at the gym, two team meetings, and a class all by noon. By the time lunch rolls around, I’m in desperate need of some recovery. After I eat, I’m taking a nap before I have practice. Our season is getting ready to start and the first game sets the course.

I’m sitting with the guys out in the quad after eating two footlong subs. It’s not too hot and the trees are providing a nice shade. I pull an extra shirt from my bag and ball it up for a pillow on top of my bag. Adams promised to wake me up ten minutes before we head to practice.

It feels like I have barely dozed off when his shadow passes over me. My eyes pop open and he holds a hand out to help me up. I feel drunk from lack of sleep. I pop two pain relievers for my headache and down a bottled water.

I’m walking to practice when Keith getting in Amaya’s face stops me. He’s asking her to give him a chance and to take her out to dinner.

“Come on. One meal. That’s all, baby. I’ll even take you to that fancy seafood place you like.”

“Don’t call me your baby. I’m not your anything, and I’m sure as hell not going anywhere with you ever again.” My girl holds her own, but the fucker is relentless.

“Amaya, please? I’ll get down on my knees if you want me to. Say the word.”

I step up, interrupting his pathetic attempt, getting between them. “Not happening.” I growl the words making it clear that Amaya is off limits. I think for once he gets the hint when he stalks off in the direction I’m headed.

“Tate, you don’t need to save me all the time.” Amaya is still trying to be stubborn, saying she doesn’t like the attention. “I hate when he makes a scene like that, but you don’t help any getting all caveman, saying I’m yours.” We talk a bit more until I realize I’m running late. Shit.

I throw my hands up and leave her to it then. I don’t have time to argue, I gotta get on the field.

“King!” Coach’s voice booms from the field. “You’re late. Six laps and twenty burpees. Try to avoid getting in the way of the players that are actually taking today seriously.”

I drop my bag and get started. It doesn’t take me long to finish the task he has me doing.

I jog over to Coach hoping he’ll let me practice now and apologize for being late.

“How’s the ankle?” he asks.

“Hurting a bit today but it’s no big deal, I’m fine.”

“We’re gonna take it easy then.”

Coach Mallard has me doing an opposite foot drill, to give my bad ankle a rest, since it is my throwing foot. After twenty passes, I move on to the next drill.

Coach blows the whistle to end practice. “Hit the showers ladies. King, try not to be late tomorrow.”

Chapter 10