Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
“I’m sure the Andrew Peachel fan club will be back next game,” Luke assured me. “Remember the ones from last week? The gay guy and his sister who both wanted your number?”
“Hope they weren’t watching tonight’s game.”
“What was up tonight? Usually you’re like a laser out there.”
“I was distracted.”
Luke furrowed his brow. “Distracted by…?”
“I’m looking at the guy on the sidelines who is about to ruin our football season,” I finally told Luke.
Luke looked over. “Oh. The guy from the paper?”
“The viper from the paper.”
“Gray Gilman, right?” Luke said, pondering the name. “Wasn’t his dad tossed in jail? Wait, maybe it was his mom. We should just ask him—”
“Shhh,” I said, walking behind Linford. “Don’t give him attention. That’s what he wants.”
I looked over at Gray like he was a sore spot I couldn’t stop touching.
A dark slash of hair.
A black long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He only had one tattoo, but it was big, peeking out from where his sleeve was pushed up: a panther that spanned the length of his forearm.
He’d been in one of my summer classes a few months ago, and I’d stared at that tattoo almost every day, getting distracted as the professor talked endlessly about Greek history.
I liked the tattoo.
I’d actually found it really hot, before I’d known who Gray was.
I used to watch him from the back of the classroom as he raised his hand, answering the professor’s questions in his deep voice, clearly smarter than anybody else in the room.
But I didn’t give a fuck how hot he was now.
Luke didn’t seem bothered. “It’ll be a puff piece, Peachel. You’re still the golden boy of the Tempests.”
“Thanks, Luke.”
“The headline will probably be Andrew Peachel is Officially the Most Perfect Football Player to Ever Walk the Tennessee North University Field. One Hundred Percent Chance of Going Pro.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re a kiss-ass.”
“Your ass is a good ass to kiss.”
I could still feel Gray’s eyes on me. “He’s been watching us like a hawk all game. Waiting for us to fuck up so he can write about it. He thinks he’s a hard detective or something.”
“Hard for you, maybe.”
I frowned. “Meaning…?”
“He’s been watching you like he wants to strip you naked all game,” Luke said.
“He’s looking at me like a piece of meat to butcher, not to eat.”
“How bad could it be?”
I raised an eyebrow. “Clearly he gets off on… exposing people. He wants to ruin my chance at the draft.”
My one mistake weighed on me heavily, following me, taunting me.
How bad could it be?
You have no idea what I did to that blond guy in the bar.
Knocked him out, accidentally. Paid his medical bills for a broken nose.
Paid him even more, so that he wouldn’t tell a goddamn soul.
The pro football league was known to reject anyone with a violent past. It was an obvious reason for “character concerns.”
It happened a few weeks ago, and I hadn’t even told Luke about it. He was my friend, and I was sure he’d be willing to take my secret to the grave, but every time I almost told him, I clammed up.
Luke leaned in to whisper near my ear as we made our way into the locker room. “All I know is that my friend Kayla hooked up with Gray Gilman once, and the article he wrote about her yoga club was very praising.”
“Maybe I should fuck him, then,” I said. “Stuff my cock in him. Give it to him so good that he can’t help but write a glowing article about me.”
God.
My cock got hard before my brain could catch up.
I wasn’t usually the kind of guy to get turned on by straight men, but…
Talking about railing Gray Gilman’s ass and wiping that I’m-better-than-you look off of his face?
That felt good.
I might not have good grades, but I could slam him right up against a fucking wall.
Maybe he’d even fight back and try to fuck me instead.
Would be a win-win for me, prick.
Luke was laughing at what I’d said, because he always thought it was hilarious when I joked about gay stuff.
“Do it, Andrew. Straight guys always want to get railed by a jock at least once during college, don’t they? Especially smart ones like him.”
I gave Luke a little shove, then headed off to the showers.
The loss was still getting to me.
I turned the shower on hot, letting it spray over my skin, like I needed to wash myself clean of the stench of failure.
You’re our golden ticket, Peachel.
Coach Ennick had told me that at least three times already, and our season only started last week.
Coach was so hell-bent on the article getting published. He was tired of the Tempests being overshadowed by the hockey team, and he wanted any scrap of attention he could get. He said I was the best wide receiver the TNU Tempests had ever had… and now I felt like I had to live up to that praise.