That stings—a spired, corrosive burn, like battery acid splashing down my throat—because he’s wholly correct. I’ve been waiting for the world to burn down in flames since the day we signed our contracts, bracing for the moment the pieces give way and come crashing down around me.
Like I'm David and the rest of the world is Goliath, letting me win, but it's never the last battle. There's always another bonfire to smother.
I break his gaze, slanting my head towards the shiny faux-wood vinyl floor, pretending to rummage for my cleats.
Charlie sighs and stands up, stretching that annoyingly perfect body, letting me catch a sight of his prominent v-line as he grabs his sports bag. “Anyway, we’ve got training camp in an hour, andI’d like to avoid running laps because my boyfriend spiraled before breakfast.”
“I’m not spiraling,” I mutter, huffing out a exasperated exhale.
He chuckles under his breath. “You’re practically twirling in place, love.”
I throw a rolled-up sock at him. “Piss off, you wanker,” I tease in a mock accent.
He catches it effortlessly, grinning as vain as a royal. “That’s the spirit. C’mon, let’s go. You and me? We’re gonna make this work. Even if your ex-best friend and your dad can’t keep their hands to themselves.”
I roll my eyes over the ceiling but follow him toward the door. My stomach rumbles and I remember to snatch an energy bar, double checking the ingredients to make sure it's peanut-free. Today is going to be nerve wracking enough than to worry about a trip to the emergency room. I glance at him as I shove the bar into my pocket. “You better not make me late.”
Charlie tosses a wink over his shoulder. “I’d never ruin your punctual brand, love. Just your back. And maybe your undies…”
“Jesus Christ, Charlie.” I mumble, fumbling around my bag to make sure that my epi-pen is where it's supposed to be.
“What? Only reminding you I’m still the best kicker in the league. And in the bedroom. I could snap those undies in half right now if you want me too…”
"Maybe tonight, if you play cards right." I shove his shoulder as we step into the hallway, but my hand barely makes a dent in that smugBritish arrogance. “But if you tear a hamstring showing off again in front of the rookies, I’m not helping you stretch it out.”
Charlie smirks, swinging his gym bag over one shoulder. “Bold of you to assume I wasn’t planning on using the injury for sympathy head.”
“God, you’re preposterous.”
“Yet, you’re still dating me,” he zests from those posh lips as the elevator dings.
We step inside, the doors closing before anyone else can stumble in. Charlie leans against the railing, eyeing me up from bottom to top, causing my cock to spasm in my jockstrap. He's infuriating and stupidly effective at horning me up. I love it and despise it at the same time.
But mostly, I fucking love it if I'm being entirely truthful. Bursting a load always clears my head, even if it's only temporary clarity, I'll take it.
“You nervous about today?” he asks, his wooden irises glimmering from the harsh elevator lights.
I hesitate, the butterflies swoon in my belly while my blood rushes away from my head. “Nervous isn’t quite the word. I think emotionally burned out might be a better term.”
Whiplash… that’s what I’m experiencing. Grief snapping my neck one way, lust yanking me the other, anger smacking me from behind. Every feeling wants to snag the wheel from my fingers, all of them clawing through me at once, leaving me dazed and staggering through this murk. Sapping my bandwidth to it's last bit—down to emergency power.
Charlie nods, a mellowness breaking through his cheeky self. “Well, you’ve got me, a fricking stud with a monster of a leg. We’ll make it through whatever crosses us.”
“But what if he’s the starting QB?” I murmur.
Charlie shrugs. “Then I’ll kick a field goal so hard it knocks him on his arse, giving him a bruise he won’t forget. Purely accidental, of course.”
We step out of the elevator and stroll over to Charlie’s antique Land Rover. An absurdly ugly army-green color that’s probably leftover from the beaches of Normandy. It slowly groans to life as the gears beg to be put out of their misery.
“Still can’t believe this thing passed inspection,” I mutter, tossing my bag in the back.
Charlie grins as he slides into the driver’s seat. “It didn’t. I might've bribed the mechanic with season tickets.”
“Are you serious?” I whip my head at him.
He answers with his cheeky grin. The one that somehow lives in midfield at the fifty-yard line between charming and infuriating. The one that’s led to him stuffing me full and getting under each other’s skin more times than I can count. It’s cocky and maddening, but irresistible. And it’s the same damn look he gave me the first night we met. As if the stars decided I was his. That grin made me fall in love with him. And maybe his package helped as well…
I twist in my seat, glaring at the cracked dashboard. “Christ, it reeks of diesel and sweaty jockstraps in here.”
