Page 15 of Play Dirty
I didn’t plan for this.
For us to partner for an entire year.
How can I manage to sit in front of those blue eyes and not feel my world cave in each time?
I already tried to switch classes the moment I knew Villalargo’s ice queen was placed in the same class. Again, for the second year in a fucking row. I know it’s dumb to think she would just stop showing up, but when she didn’t, I couldn’t help doing the same, even if I stayed behind her. Because I’m sick.
Despite the urge to claw out my skin every time I look into those beautiful orbs, I couldn’t stay away, not long enough at least.
But there were rules that kept me sane and my addiction under control. If you can’t get a fix, might as well stay away. No temptation. No relapse. Out of sight and out of mind.
The rules are simple.
One. Never look her way.
Two. If in the same place, leave. Or keep it short.
Three. Stay behind her.
Always behind her…
Never where I can see the blue. My body rejects the color….
“Yo, Nico.” I hear Thiago call from somewhere behind me. Clutching the book in my hand, I turn to find him wrapped in some girl's arms, and instantly my jaw tightens. While most of the guys on the team have become hypersexual, for me, it’s been the opposite. I envied that… I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t find pleasure in my body or in that of somebody else. Most of the guys drown themselves in pussy to forget. While I can’t even touch my own cock anymore.
Appetite, gone. Desire? Dead.
My body doesn’t listen. My mind only shuts up when I'm on the field. Running the ball, shifting it between my feet. I keep trying with June, but I just can't. The most I can do is force myself to make her feel good, but I know she wants more. I see it on her face the moment the post-orgasm clarity hits. Shame. Maybe disgust, as she covers herself, like I just failed her again.
I try tomake her come, make her feel something– anything, because I can’t. My heart heats from the blood rushing through me, boiling underneath my skin. I can see Thiago tapping the girl's arm, slipping away from her embrace, and focusing on me. It’s happening again — my lungs fail to expand, my mind is locked in that room, and my body feels like it is collapsing... my body is in fight mode.
“You want to talk about it?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Another panic attack?”
“No, just thinking.”
He dips his chin, looking at my features carefully. We grew close, Thiago and I.
I guess that's what happens when you play, live, and bleed together. We wear the same collar and offer different roles, but it’s all the same once we are masked and naked. His golden skin glows beneath the sun, hazel eyes look like golden orbs, and brown pieces of hair fall on his forehead. By the smell of him, he never went to his first class. “You smell like pussy and whiskey.”
Thiago looks into the horizon, and the movement shows off the bruises around his neck. My fists curl at my sides.
I want to ask him who.
But we promised long ago not to ask unless we want to bleed. And neither of us ever does. The silence between us speaks more than any words could. For years, we have been nothing but puppets; we play on the field, we win, and are forced to obey. Nothing more.
“There’s a party tonight.” He says with a devilish grin as he stares at the group of girls walking past us.
“Deltas?”
He nods.
“Nothing like a back-to-school party. But I can’t.” I couldn’t hide the bitterness in my tone.
“You can’t?” Heasks, genuinely confused. There isn’t an event happening at the club, but I was called for a special dinner. One that always ends with me tied up and being split open. Shaking the memory of his weight, I begin to walk.
