Page 10 of The Fantasy League
The late-night hour paired with a dreary, desolate street made our operation feel as though we were criminals. And while it might not have been explicitly written in the law, toilet papering someone’s house definitely balled the line somewhere between littering, trespassing, and vandalism.
We waited for a few minutes until we were sure there were no stray patrol guards in sight, and we snagged our packages of toilet paper from the ground and crept across the street.
Throwing caution to the wind, I picked up the pace and started strong with stringing toilet paper across the tree limbs as Mae took over wrapping the mailbox until it was covered in white squares so thoroughly that no black paint from the mailbox showed through.
We did our best to stifle our triumphant laughter—well—until one of the rolls that I’d thrown over a palm tree smacked mercilessly against Mae’s head and knocked her to the ground.
Feeling liberated, I headed for the house next. I chucked a roll as hard as I could and watched as it landed perfectly on the highest point of the roof.
Bull’s-eye.
“Hope you have fun with that one, asshole,” I mumbled to myself as I made another throw toward the roof again. I was exhausted and running out of toilet paper. But I still didn’t feel satisfied.
I wanted to have the last word and by God, I was going to have it.
“Abel, if you’re watching this from your window right now, just know that no matter how sexy your gray sweatpants might be, I willnotbe tempted by them!” I whisper-yelled at his front door so as not to wake the neighbors.
Okay, so those weren’t exactly the last words that I had planned in my head. But at this point, the wine had gone straight to my vagina, so I couldn’t blame myself.
After using the last of our rolls to wrap his SUV, which conveniently sat in the driveway, we stalked down the front yard at the same time Lea came walking up the street with an amused smirk.
The girls and I stood at the curb and stared up at our masterpiece. “What a beauty,” Mae marveled at our creativity.
People had always said that revenge tasted sweet. And now that I had gotten some of my own, I couldn’t help but love the taste.
“Sorry, Mr. Abbott,” I muttered smugly under my breath before the three of us turned around and swiftly snuck back across the street and into the safety of Mae’s home.
Oh, what I would’ve given to be a fly on Abel’s wall when he woke in the morning.
Sleep tight, asshole.
FOUR
ABEL
Groaning,I sat up in bed after being woken by a loud noise that came from downstairs.
Rolling out of bed, I threw on a pair of gray sweatpants and rummaged through my dresser drawer for a black T-shirt. I tugged one out and pulled it over my head and down my torso as I walked across the cold tile into the en suite.
I paused to look back at the clock that sat on top of the nightstand — 7:02 a.m.
Great.
It had been just shy of twenty-four hours since Coach had given me orders to get a girlfriend, and so far, I’d made no effort toward achieving that.
Brushing it off for the moment, I picked up my toothbrush out of the holder and slathered on a healthy amount of toothpaste. Meeting my eyes in the mirror, self-mockery invaded my stare, making me feel like a fucking moron.
What other twenty-eight-year-old professional athlete was struggling to find a girl? None.
Placing a hand on either side of the sink, I spat my toothpaste into the basin and watched as the water washed the contents down the drain before looking up again and shaking my head.
Restless and irritable, I tread back into the bedroom to swipe my phone from the charger on the nightstand. Only forty-seven emails since yesterday afternoon.
Fan—fucking—tastic.
Opening the latest thread from my agent, I didn’t pause to read what he’d sent before shooting him back a reply telling him to stop sending me so many damn emails.
Stomping my way into the kitchen, I found a busy brunette chopping up the last of a green bell pepper and throwing it into the pan.
