The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

The second half of my theory is sex is the Olympics for the sexually underprivileged, and I’ve been in training for quite some time. I’ve got way too many pent-up fantasies in my arsenal for the girl I find the chemistry with. I might practice my P’s and Q’s out of respect for the ladies, but I’ve got a smut-filled brain, no doubt due to the deprivation.

And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever let a forlorn sigh, like the one sounding out behind me, come out of the mouth of any woman I bed, the morning after.

Well, except for that one time.

CLICK, DELETE.

“Coffee?”

“Please,” she says softly.

I greeted her when she hit the bottom of the stairs to try to put her at ease. She had no bounce in her step when I lured her into the kitchen, and her smile hasn’t reached her eyes through any of our exchange.

Troy’s either underperforming or they’ve had some non-committal morning-after chat. But since he’s into avoidance, I assume it’s a bit of both.

“You don’t have to cook for me,” Bethany says softly behind me where I stand at the stove.

“I was cooking anyway, it’s no trouble,” I assure, looking back at her with a smile before flipping a perfectly golden cake. I hate the skittish look in her eye. It makes me just as ill at ease as she is. I didn’t start out cooking breakfast for the house conquests, it just kind of happened. They aren’t all this sullen when they come down, but Bethany is different; and I’m sure Troy noticed on some level, but it didn’t stop him. Then again, it didn’t stop her either.

“So, I’m thinking I’m not the first girl you’ve cooked for.”

This is the part where I resent my roommates the most. I’m not good at the bullshit, it’s not my job to placate them, but I’m typically the one stuck making the excuses. “I have two roommates on the team, so there’s always someone to cook for.”

“I’m sure.” The snark in her voice isn’t for me.

“It’s all up to you,” I plate up the fluffy cakes and set them on the table in front of her.

She zeroes in on her plate and then looks up to me. “What do you mean?”

I shrug. “I mean, you can leave here hating yourself for something you wanted to do, or you can own it and move on.”

“Well,” she says with an ironic chuckle, “that answered my next question.”

“Which was?”

“Have you ever cooked for the same girl twice?”

“You want the truth?”

“By all means,” she says, grabbing her fork.

“No, no repeats, and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

She nods and grabs the juice in front of her as I lean in on a whisper when it’s halfway to her lips. “You’re still the same girl you were before you walked through that front door. It’s not you, it’s him.”

“That’s original.”

“It’s the truth.”

She swallows a lump I know is forming in her throat and nods before sipping her juice. “So, you’ve been in the same position?”

“Used to the point of feeling violated? Ironically, yeah, it was recent, and I have the battle scars to prove it.”

“You’re nothing like him.”

“He’s not so bad. Just…oblivious for the moment.”

She pulls the chair out next to her and gives me a smile that reaches her eyes. “Eat with me, Theo.”