Page 3 of My Brother's Teammates

Cleaning up after Shane and a rowdy class of kids all week was bad enough. Throw in getting cheated on and broken up with, hauling my meager possessions across town, and I’m wiped. I wasn’t prepared to spend my weekend cleaning up after grown fucking men, but I can’t live in this filth. Not even for a couple days. And maybe it’ll help them see me as an asset and let me stay if they come back and their apartment doesn’t smell like the inside of a dumpster.

A few curse words and many tears later, my eyes are puffy, my head hurts, and my throat is raw, but the apartment looks a little more livable. The stench isn’t gone completely, but if I leave the windows open a bit longer, maybe the New Orleans swamp smell will drown out the stench of a rotting carcass.

Sweat streams down my back, and I briefly contemplate lying back on the sofa before deciding to take a shower. After digging my shower stuff out of my smaller suitcase, I pull open the music app on my phone and pick my Girl Power playlist. I know my girls Kesha, Bey, and T-Swift will have my back. If there’s anyone that can help me get over a soul-crushing breakup, it’s them.

I crank the shower to melt-your-skin-off hot and step under the spray. Hanging my head, I let myself feel the heartache, the betrayal, the pain of walking in on my boyfriend with someone else. I obsess over what I might have done wrong, what I could’ve done to prevent this. As my tears wash down the drain, I straighten my spine. Shane cheating on me was inevitable. He was selfish, arrogant, rude, and only did something if it benefited him.

I’m better off without him. I don’t deserve to be treated like that, to be suffocated in a one-way relationship where I will never be able to really be who I am. Where I’m not allowed to have opinions of my own and dreams that don’t involve him.

This is going to be a new era of getting what I want, discovering myself, and most importantly, being the best damn elementary teacher in the district—despite my asshole boss.

With a little more determination, I turn off the shower and pat my skin dry to the beat of the music. After doctoring up my curls, I toss the towel on the floor and dance my way into the living room. I just need something comfortable to wear for the night, and I’ll worry about unpacking in the morning. I make my way around the gigantic couch, cranking up the volume before digging through the rest of my belongings.

Bent over with my ass in the air, I’m shout-singing along to "DONE” by The Band Perry, and feeling so much better about my life.

Fuck Shane, and fuck every guy who thinks they can dip their sticks in other people when they’re supposed to be in a committed relationship.

I spin, then scream bloody murder, the container of lotion in my hand falling to the floor with a thud.

Turns out, I’m no longer alone.

I don’t know how long they’ve been standing there, but my brother’s three roommates are six feet from where I’m standing. And by the looks of the tents they’re all pitching in their dress pants, I just gave them a pretty good show.

Welp, this is awkward.

TWO

Jace

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I’m the first to admit I’m not the best in awkward situations. But I didn’t expect to come home after a three-day stretch of away games and find Harrison’s little sister naked in my living room. He’s not just my teammate, he’s my best friend.

And she should definitely not be here.

Her cheeks turn a shade of pink that highlights the freckles across the bridge of her nose, and my dick perks up. I fucking hate it.

And her.

And those fucking freckles that I definitely haven’t been coveting for the past thirteen years.

“Well?” I rest my hands on my hips and stare down at her very naked, and very wet, curvy body.

If she were anyone else, I’d be wondering how many seconds it would take to toss her in my bed, but since Harrison is like a damn brother to me, there’s no fucking way.

None.

And I really need to not stare at her breasts, but I can’t stop myself from taking all of her in.

Her eyes are up there, Theriot.

Fuck.

I really should do my best to keep my gaze on hers, but my damn eyeballs seem to have a mind of their own. My dick twitches, and Jesus Christ, my entire body is against me. I’m so freaking irritated.

I’m not the only one who’s noticed how nice she looks, and while it should make me feel better, it doesn’t.

Poor Roman stands to my right, looking everywhere but at Charlotte while covering his groin with his black duffel bag. He’s the good one out of the three of us, the only one that pretends to be a gentleman, but deep down, he’s as much of an animal as the rest of us.

Mateo isn’t civilized—ever. I don’t need to look at him to know he’s probably stroking himself through his pants and about to make us all uncomfortable.

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