Page 26 of Foul & Fake
Picking Up The Sword
ELIAS
It’s been two weeks since Riley drew that stupid line in the sand, which means it’s been even longer than that since I got laid. It’s fucking brutal.
She’s shown up to every game, even made an appearance at a few other parties, but I feel the proverbial wall between us every single time she’s near me. I’m afraid the guys are starting to notice, because after the last time she stiffly sat on my lap, Luca asked me if we were okay.
Surprise surprise… I lied, and blamed the weird mood on our last loss.
Whether it’s the distance between us or the simple fact that I’m pent up and sexually frustrated I don’t know, but either way I’ve had little patience with my team, and after tonight's match it’s starting to affect my game.
We lost again, and it’s hard not to carry that on my shoulders when I let the same dude pass me for two of their goals.
I really need to get laid.
“So how’s the hazing going?” I ask to get out of my head, but I immediately wish I went with a different subject switch when all three of their gazes shoot toward me. I was just sick of hearing them talk about girls when I only have a fake one.
Gomez tips his chin at me. “Better than your relationship. Wanna switch sides yet?”
Cue acting skills.
“Why the hell would I want to do that? Then I’d be as lonely and miserable as you fucks.”
Because I’m definitely not either of those things.
“Yeah?” Vito asks. “Annalise motorboated my balls last night, what did Riley do? Oh right, you weren’t with her. You were here, listening to me get my dick sucked.”
“I wasn’t listening,” I hiss a little defensively. “She was just really… enthusiastic.”
“He was definitely jacking off in there.”
“Oh, fuck off, O’Neill. I was on the phone with Riley.”
Another lie. I’m sensing a pattern here, and I hate it. Things were just fucking fine, why did she ruin it?
“Right,” Vito scoffs. “Don’t worry guys, mystery solved. She hasn’t had a single hickey on her cause you can’t leave marks during phone sex. They’re long distance now.”
Fuck!
I was hoping they wouldn’t bring that up, because even without them acknowledging the fact that I haven’t left a single mark on her, it’s been driving me crazy. I need her to look owned — to look like mine, and with this distance between us and her flawless neck she looks anything but.
“Fuck off. She asked me not to, and I’ve been trying to be respectful and leaving them all under her clothes. You should see her chest.”
Too bad it’s bare as fuck too, because I’m a lying little bitch.
“Alright,” Gomez says. “Show us. No fuckin’ way you mark her where it can’t be seen without taking pictures.”
I need new friends, and the Vipers need new midfielders because I’m about to murder these ones. Even grouchy ass Masters was dragging me earlier this week about the same shit,and I hate how well they all know me. “Fuck off. This isn’t just some chick I’m fucking, dickhead. We’re actually together. I know that’s foreign for the likes of you dicks, but some of us want real relationships when we grow up. I’m not showing you her body.”
Her video rushes its way to the forefront of my mind and I pause, immediately remembering who has the power here. I told her the deal, she agreed, and now she’s changed it. She went back on her word, not me, and although I initially never intended on ever showing that video to anyone, I think she’s gotten a little too comfortable making demands. Desperate times call for desperate, albeit fucked-up, measures.
Riley Dattner is fucking mine.
“Have any of you actually had a girlfriend before?” I deflect some more, but none of them seem to hear me.
Gomez gets up, waving me off. “Yeah, whatever man. Way I see it, you bitched out of hazing and you’re using your little librarian to do it.”
“I didn’t bitch out of shit.” Lies. “I just found something better to do. You guys sound jealous.”
