Page 19 of Catching Feels

SportsManSam: Such a good girl.

A few more minutes pass, and I again think I’ve fucked up with the good girl thing, but whatever, it’s too late.

GoodTimesOnly: *kissy face emoji* I’ll shoot you the details when I get my room number.

SportsManSam: Sleep well, gorgeous. Excited to be in you tomorrow.

SportsManSam: Proof of excitement or it’s not true.

Not honoring her request would be a major dick move, but having a picture of my cock out there to be passed around is unsettling. So, I hold the phone in the correct position, grab my hard cock through my boxers, snap a picture, and then … I hit send.

GoodTimesOnly: Very nice. *drooly face emoji* See you tomorrow, SMS.

“Please tell me you didn’t just send a dick pic while I am literally four feet away from you,” AJ grumbles.

Fuck.

“I needed to see if these boxers make my dick look big.”

He rolls over and props his head up on his hand. “Endorsement?”

What?

“Not sure yet.” I only sort of lie, because it may happen one day.

“After our last game, I knew they’d be all over you. Happy for you, man.” He lies back down and rolls over. “What time are you and Amira heading to the city tomorrow?”

Okay, this is an actual lie.

“Not sure yet, but probably afternoon.”

“Cool.” He yawns. “Going to work out tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Around six.”

“Catch a ride with you?” he asks.

“Of course.”

He yawns again. “Night.”

“Night.”

Not that I have ever questioned the fact that men think about sex more than we should, but it’s more evident today than ever in the gym, where that is the topic of conversation.

It started with Locke walking in with a shit-ass grin on his face, and Vanders shaking his head and saying, “I give it a year before you walk in here looking like the Locke we all know.”

“That’s because you don’t know Gwendolyn Locke.” Leland points to his face. “Ask Pope when he gets here. He’ll confirm.”

As if on que, John Paul walks into the gym. “Ask me what?”

“Vanders said this look”—Locke circles his face with his hand—“will fade in a year.”

“This look?” he asks.

“Vanders”—Turner shakes his head—“you and I both should know better than to act like experts when it comes to relationships.”

Turner’s not wrong; he’s been married more times than I can keep track of, even if I gave a shit enough to keep track, and Vanders’ marriage has been open for pretty much its entirety. Apparently, since becoming Jags, Locke and he strictly stuck to threesomes. Vanders because his wife doesn’t like sex, and Locke because one-on-one was messy. He only ever loved one girl, and that girl is now back in his life, his bed, and shares his last name.

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