Page 8 of Play Dirty
Abuela always told me, “todo tiene un precio mijo. Everything has a price.” I guess I’m about to find out what the price for success is. Loud heavy steps move towards me, and the familiar smell of cologne fills the space, causing my stomach to turn and bile to rise in my throat. I try to move away… but my body doesn’t comply, as my mind drifts further than I can reach.
He finally comes into view, his golden mask reflecting off the glass as he closes the distance in a couple of steps. His hand wraps around the nape of my neck. My body recoils, beads of sweat cling to my temples, and blood rushes to my ears.
“I wanted you naked and waiting.”
I freeze.
“Don’t be coy,” the calm voice whispers into my ears, from behind his mask, blue eyes stare back at me in the reflective glass. His grip tightens like he owns me, forcing my body to arch into his. Bile rushes up my throat as his thumb circles my skin. I swallow hard as the evidence of his erection presses against my back. Finally, I lift my gaze only to be met with my reflection in the glass, but I don’t see myself anymore.
I see a lie. A version of me I don’t recognize.
He presses his body harder into mine, his eyes shimmering in the light, and I want to vomit.
“No one rides for free, dear Nico.”
Iflinch when his free hand makes contact with my stomach. His hand snakes down lower until it finds my dick. Still, I don’t move. Not really. Not where it counts, as if my will and soul have completely checked out, leaving a carcass — a shell of me behind.
I focus on the drunk girl stumbling through the grass.
My escape.
Shiloh.
She is still lingering by the water fountain. Sway to the side as if she’s dancing. Unlike earlier, her dress is now caked with dirt. She stumbles around like a baby fawn learning to walk, sloshing champagne onto the grass. Unaware of what’s happening right now.
For a second, my heart lifts —
Maybe she can see me.
Maybe she’ll stop this.
Maybe—
My throat locks when I try to swallow, feeling him smile against my back.
“She can’t see you.” His voice is honeyed poison and makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Out of my mind. Hating the feeling of him against me. “One-way glass. A perfect view. Just for you.”
My stomach flips.
My breath stutters. Fuck him. Fuck this scholarship.
I look at her again, praying for some kind of miracle. She’s still drunk— completely ignorant of what’s going on. Once again, Shiloh falls, and for a second she zeros in on the window. My heart beats wildly inside my chest. For a second, I think that maybe he’s wrong and she can, in fact, see me.
See us.
He must have noticed my false hope, because his hand cups parts of me that refuse to work.
“Don’t be shy, the pretty princess can’t see you.” The deep voice purrs behind me before he fists my hair, forcing me to look into the blueness of his eyes through the mirror. Maybe it’s a gift that she’s there; she might not be able to see me, but I can see her. And it’s the escape I need.
“Now show me what you're worth beneath your jersey.”
I want to scream.
To tell him I’m not for sale. That I play for the Sirens, not for him. But the words never come. My body won’t move. My resolve has already been broken. And with that, his hand pulls free my flaccid cock, and I lose myself. I focus on those teary eyes, and let myself be consumed by the color... The intensity.
I long to be anywhere but here in my fucking body as his hands continue to touch what’s not his. I try to tune out the manly groans and the way his breath tickles the tip of my ear as he whispers depravity into it. I focus on the girl staring into my soul.
So unaware that in this moment, she has become my lifeline as he splits me open. This is the first time I've learn to disappear with my eyes open. The first time I’ll bleed for Velarium, and the last time I believe any of this is about soccer.
