Page 23 of Linebacker
“Aw diddums,” T.J Burress, Running Back sniggers. “You worried that you might actually build up a sweat and your fake tan will start to run?” T.J is really hot, and from what I’ve seen so far, a little on the flirtatious side. I’ve caught him watching me a couple of times and as soon as he notices that he does nothing to hide it. His eyes shine and he flashes me the sweetest of smiles, showing his pearly whites. I won’t deny that the attention he bestows on me has me smiling right back.
“What you spouting?” Dallas hollers back with a noisy hiss from between his blindingly white teeth. “This is all real, darling,” he snakes his hand in front of his body from head to foot, and hell if he doesn’t cock a hip too. In private, Dallas is very open about his sexuality, and all the guys are cool with that. In the public eye, Dallas keeps it under wraps simply to make life less complicated. Unfortunately, there’s still a large part of the population worldwide that are judgmental. Being gay and into sports is not new, but when it comes to contact sports, unfortunately some are cruel with ignorance.
“Gentlemen,” I say loudly, clapping my hands to get the group’s attention. “Might be a good idea to read your schedules before the next session, so you can dress a little more appropriately.”
“Yeah, douchebags,” Buzzy, real name Guy Barker–Wide Receiver pipes up.
“Thank you, Buzzy.” I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing because although his attire is more suitable, the lycra shorts he’s wearing does nothing to mask the fact that his balls are way bigger than his cock. I internally pull myself together so as not to show my amusement.
“Welcome to Hot Yoga,” I announce and in return I get a barrage of ‘Huh’s.’ “It’s been medically proven that if done correctly and safely, Hot Yoga can provide a number of benefits. Which includes improved flexibility, bone density as well as supplying a cardiovascular boost and reduction in blood glucose levels. Not only that, it is also a powerful tool to help reduce stress and ease depression.”
“Sounds like a load of bollocks to me.” I don’t need to seek him out amongst the bodies, because his deep voice is so distinctive to me. But I do anyway, swiveling my body in the direction of the negativity until my eyes fall on him. He’s stood, legs wide apart, arms crossed with a cocky one-sided smirk on his face.
“Well, Marshall, it’s irrelevant what you think…” I fire back at him, which incites him to push back his impressive shoulders further on his already rigid body. “And honestly, you don’t have to take my word for it that you will all benefit from this. But as you’re all required to be present and take part in the group and individual tasks that I’ve set out and have been agreed with Coach and the club board, you’ll just have to go with it.” I keep my voice on an even keel, not wanting to give away my irritation at Mars’ attempts to rile me up. The last thing I want to do is to get his back up and therefore cause a disruption when all I want is to get on with the class and hopefully prove my point. Giving Mars little chance to hit me with a comeback, I quickly turn my back to the whole group and press play on my iPod, making sure the volume is on high. Music booms out and instantly fills the room from the speakers that I’d requested be set up in each corner. I let the mood music play on high just long enough to cut out any chance of Mars responding with his infuriating negativity, then turn it down until it’s at a soft, relaxing level and call out for them to find a place on one of the mats and start the class.
Other than the scathing glares from Mars, which are pretty much constant throughout the whole thing, the rest of the guys seem to take it all in their stride. Coach Scully throws himself into it with great gusto, and I can’t help but think that’s more for my benefit, making sure the rest of the team follows his example, rather than his own.
Once we’ve done a sequence of cool down stretching, I announce the end of the session and that the guys should hit the showers. “It’s important for you to wash away the toxins that you will have sweated out. If not, then your body will absorb them back into your skin.”
“And you’ll stink like a prairie dog’s butt hole,” someone pipes up. I think Chris Boiman–Fullback.
“Guess you’d know all about that, Boiman,” T.J sniggers, then flashes me another of his perfect smiles. The rest of the team burst out laughing at Boiman’s expense. While this interaction is going on, Coach Scully makes his way to where I’m standing at the front. He’s moving slower than usual and seems to have a bit of a limp. I guess his muscle groups have had more of a workout than they have in a long time.
“Well, I can honestly say that I enjoyed that,” Coach announces loud enough so that everyone in the room can clearly hear, at which someone sniggers back, ‘yeah, looks like it’. “Let’s show our appreciation to Hope with a round of applause.” It starts with just him, but soon the rest follow, and I find it unexpected, and a bit embarrassing and I let out an awkward laugh. I glance over to where Mars stands, again his arms are firmly crossed, but when he catches my eye, he switches to a slow, inflated and very patronising clap. I laugh and shake my head at his childishness which soon knocks the condescending sneer, that was playing on his lips, clean off his face.
“Thank you everyone, but no need. This is my job, and although some of the time I will take you out of your comfort zone and even push you to your limits…” I fix my gaze firmly on Mars’ dark and fierce eyes, so he knows what I say next is primarily directed at him, “I can promise that I won’t give up or walk away until I’ve finished what I’ve been solicited to do.” Mars’ face takes on a reddish tone, his anger clearing rising to near boiling point. He spins around so quickly that he nearly loses his footing, and stomps towards the door that takes you out into the hallway to the locker rooms and showers. But hey, I can’t help poking that bear just a little more.
“Marshall,” I shout at the top of my voice. Coming to a sudden stop at the sound of his name, Mars doesn’t even show me the courtesy of turning to face me.
“What?” he growls, his voice thick with pure animosity.
“I hope you’ve not forgotten that you have an appointment with me in my office in forty-five minutes. I’ll see you there.” His arms are rigid at his side, and when I notice him clenching and unclenching his fists a couple of times, I wonder if the bear is about to go apeshit. When he starts moving again, not even responding to my reminder, he nearly pulls the door off its hinges as he leaves the room. I don’t deny that I have a sense of relief. I just hope that the shower he’s about to take, washes away his bad attitude and temper along with his arseholery. One can but hope.
CHAPTER20
Igive Mars an hour, but when he still hasn’t turned up at my office, I start to get pissed. One thing that I absolutely detest is tardiness. If you have an appointment, you make it. On time. Early, preferably. Not turning up that’s a big no, no. Absolutely bloody disgraceful. In Mars’ case though, not totally unexpected.
After checking with the front desk that Mars hasn’t left the building, I check the common areas, like the dining room and chill-out zone. Even the gym comes up blank, so I make my way to the locker room. Mars isn’t a prima donna and, unlike some of the team members, isn’t one to spend a lifetime in front of the mirror making sure his hair is perfectly in place. So, when I enter the locker room and see that his sports bag and casual clothes are still in his spot, it comes as a surprise.
The only other door, other than the one I’ve just come through, is the one that leads into the bathroom area. When I get nearer the door, a subtle sound of splashing is enough to confirm that someone is still in there and as all the other pegs are clear, it can only be him. I push open the door and step into the open, white tiled area.
“If you thought this was a safe place to hide, thinking that I wouldn’t dare come in here, you’re greatly mistaken,” I announce as I walk further into the room.
Mars is sitting in one of the large baths, and as I take a step closer, I can see that it’s three-quarters full of ice and water.
“I’m not hiding,” He responds, a slight judder in his voice. “I’m getting rid of the lactic acid in my body. Or did you skip the basics of your top-notch education?”
“I hope you showered before you got in there?” I reply, ignoring his dig.
“Of course I did. I might not spout about my knowledge or the dos and don’ts like some do,” he stares pointedly at me, “but I’ve not got my body to this standard of excellence without knowing how to take care of myself.”
“Pity you didn’t take in the damage that alcohol has when taken in extremes,” I counter. “You missed your appointment. Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I need to take an ice bath.”
“Really?” I challenge. My upper lip curls, eyes narrow as I look back at him with disdain. “I would have thought yoga would have been a piece of piss for someone with a body in such excellent condition.”
“It was, but when I got out of the shower, I had this tight area here on my right calf,” He leans forward in the bath and starts to rub his lower leg. “We have a game this weekend, so I thought I best try this first and see if it was enough to ease it up.”
