Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
With a towel wrapped around my waist and another over my shoulders, I walk to the cubby assigned to me. The Phantoms’ arena is new and their locker rooms are plush. I kick off my slides and sink my bare feet into the carpet.
A loud crack rends the air and what feels like a sharp, electrical sting hits my right ass cheek. I jerk forward and turn to see Bain there holding the towel he’s snapped me with.
“You asshole,” I growl, rubbing my tender butt.
He grins and makes to flick it at me again. I jump backward and warn, “Do it and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Lighten up, dude. We just beat the Phantoms. We beat the Vipers. We’re at the top of our division and second in our conference.”
He’s given me very good reasons to turn my frown upside down, but I don’t fucking feel like it. I’m in a bad mood because I miss Danica and I’m pretty sure I might have fucked up my life by letting her go. I turn my back on Bain and reach into my cubby for my duffel. I drop the towel and grab a fresh pair of briefs, pulling them on. It’s always been the rule that we arrive on game day in dress suits and we usually leave in the same. But on nights—like tonight—where we’re headed home late on the plane, we’re allowed to dress casually, as long as it’s Titans’ gear. I brought a pair of track pants, a T-shirt and sweatshirt, and hopefully I’ll sleep on the short flight back.
Did I mention I’ve been sleeping like shit the last few days?
Hendrix’s cubby is to my left and he appears, giving me a quick glance. “Good game, man.”
“I played like shit,” I mutter. I don’t see it as I’m digging through my bag for my deodorant, but I feel Hendrix and Bain sharing a look over me.
And then another sharp sting hits my right ass cheek and I whirl on Bain who’s backing up from me warily, gripping the towel that he just snapped at me.
“What the hell is wrong with you dude?” I take a menacing step toward him and the towel whips like a snake as he unleashes it again. I jump back as it cracks, only slicing the air and not touching my skin. I stare at him with wide eyes and my teeth gritted. “I’m so going to kick your ass.”
He cracks it again, causing me to back into Hendrix. “Why don’t you tell us what’s wrong, let us help fix it, then I can stop doing this?”
I glare at him and the fucker whips it again. It comes perilously close to my hip, covered only by my briefs, and I roar like an infuriated bull. I charge at Bain but Hendrix has me by the waist, jerking me back and then slinging me away. “Calm the fuck down,” he orders.
I’m vaguely aware the locker room has become quiet and as I look around, everyone’s staring.
Hendrix points at Bain. “Put the fucking towel down. It’s not funny anymore.”
Bain tosses the towel in the bottom of his locker and reaches for his bag. “Just want the guy to open up. Figured poking the bear might get him to blurt out what’s wrong.”
I ignore Bain, finding my deodorant and layering on a good amount. Bain and Hendrix are silent on either side of me as we dress. For some reason, as mad as I am at Bain for goading me and demanding to get in my business, I’m now even more irritated that they’re not bothering me at all. I’m going to guess that means I’m in a fucking bad mood no matter what.
“I’m playing like shit because I’ve got something on my mind,” I mutter as I pull on my track pants.
Hendrix and Bain both turn toward me and move closer. I’ve opened the door now and there’s no closing it.
But fuck it. I lost Danica because I was afraid to let anyone know about us. Bain already told me there was no bro code, but I thought he was being funny. At least this won’t come as a huge shock to him.
“I’ve been seeing Danica.” Hendrix’s eyebrows shoot up but Bain remains impassive. “And it was getting really serious, but we broke it off.”
Now Bain’s eyebrows move, except now they draw inward with worry. “Why?”
“Because it’s too complicated,” I say with a huge sigh.
“And you’re regretting the decision?” Hendrix asks.
“Yes,” I say, then immediately change my mind. “No. It was the right thing to do.”
Bain scoffs. “Bullshit. If it makes you feel like shit, makes you play like shit, then it wasn’t the right thing.”
“I’ll feel better eventually,” I retort. “I’ll get over it.”
“I’m sorry, buddy,” Hendrix says, squeezing my shoulder.
Bain crosses his arms across his chest. “Ahh,” he drawls with a knowing look on his face. “I get it.”