Page 7 of Scoring Zone
Never in my wildest dreams would Austin and I end up in bed together and crave each other in such a primal way. At first, I purposely let him lead so I didn’t push him into anything new or uncomfortable.
Last night he was more than eager, almost possessed. The marks on my body are proof. He acted like he couldn’t get enough of me, as if my taste was his new obsession.
And today, it’s as if it never happened. He blatantly said it didn’t happen.
In the ultimate act of self-pity, I take a picture of my torso to preserve the evidence that I’m not crazy. Austin wanted me last night. At the very least, he wanted my body.
To have his complete attention was more intoxicating than any alcohol we’d consumed. I’ve always admired his loyalty and devotion as a friend, but knowing what he tastes like is turning my world upside down.
Our physical connection is what I’ve been searching for but never found. But maybe it’s one-sided.
We’d been drinking more than usual, but he was coherent and seemed capable of consent. He wasn’t uncoordinated, and his dick rose to the occasion. But maybe I took advantage of him.
I’m privy to Austin’s heart, and he’s never had a problem with my sexuality or our teammates’. When Lucky came out as bisexual, Austin asked him a few questions but didn’t judge Lucky’s later-in-life realization.
My reckless belief in a night of fate can’t ruin our friendship. I will bury my new attraction to him and never touch him again if we can keep our relationship.
My eyes shut with the memory of his grunts and groans. Shoving those feelings aside seems hopeless, but I’ll do anythingfor him. Deny myself everything, even cut my heart out to keep him with me.
My head pounds along with my heartbeat at the thought of living without him. He’s been central to my life since middle school. I can’t give that up. We have to figure out a way around last night.
I assumed he’d always be in my life as my friend but for the first time, I let myself wonder if it could be more. I can’t ignore the explosive chemistry, but if he can, it doesn’t mean a thing.
My stomach grumbles, and I decide to venture out of my room for food. This is Vegas, no one will question why I smell like a brothel. I’ll probably get some high-fives.
The Enforcers have reserved a room for brunch/lunch today, but Austin’s not there when I peek inside. Of the two of us, he’s the talker. I won’t pressure him to talk to me before he’s ready.
I nod to two of our equipment managers. None of the players are here, so I’ve timed this perfectly. The team leaves tonight for another away game in Nashville before we go home.
The voice in my head berates me, saying Austin has finally realized I’m holding him back and I’m not good enough for him. Today, it’s unusually loud. The voice is an old adversary with a worn-out soundtrack, yet it still rings with a kernel of truth.
That nugget plants itself and immediately sprouts roots.
I’ve been down this road before and should know better than to let this happen, especially since I went to a therapist after my hockey injury. My depression at the time caused lots of irrational thoughts.
I knew I should’ve been watching over Austin, and that did not include sticking my tongue down his throat.
He’d had too much to drink, and instead of waiting to talk about his frame of mind when he sobered up, I jumped him.
I fell asleep before checking on him.
In short, I took advantage of my best friend and forced him into a physical relationship.
I smack my forehead with my palm to shut the voice up. Some of those things might be true, and I won’t know until I talk to Austin, but I certainly didn’t force him into anything.
“Hey, man.” Jamal King gives me an up-nod, causing the beads at the end of his zigzag cornrows to click with his movements as he enters with Griff and Kenney. King and Mason Griffin play second-line wingers together. Austin was really worried about King when he joined the team. He’s an introvert who has slowly come out of his shell, but Austin was concerned he was being treated differently. As the only Black man on the team, he stands out, and Austin wants to include King but not pressure or bully him into situations King isn’t comfortable with. As a fellow introvert, it’s a high-wire act to strike the right balance.
“Great job commandeering the brain today.” Griff snickers and picks up a plate.
“What?” I cough out my response to this much-needed distraction. The tasteless food is hard to get down.
“You and Ace aren’t twinning, and he looks like hell, so it’s fair to assume you got the brain today.” He turns to Kenney. “You know we joke about them sharing a brain, right?”
“No, but it makes sense,” Kenney says seriously. “Did you call or text so you wouldn’t dress the same?” he asks me.
“You better hope I’ve got the brain if you get hurt.” I stand and a server takes my plate with the scraps left on it.
“Dude, do not jinx us like that!” Griff slams his plate in horror.
