Page 39 of Man On

Danny tilts his chin towards Noah, who is slowly making his way to the sidelines, where everyone is exiting the field. He looks pissed, and it doesn't look like the pats on the back from his teammates are helping. His entire front, including his face, isn't just sprinkled with mud like the rest of us, it's caked with mud.

"I almost missed my chance to follow you to the net because I was so busy laughing. He totally face-planted,” he laughs. “You took him out!"

Danny is a little too excited about me showing Noah up, and I have to nudge him to quiet down. But when Noah is within hearing distance, Danny turns around and points directly at me.

"Nice play, superstar. Drinks are on me!" He says it as if we have plans, or like I ever go out with the rest of the team.

Whatever his reasoning for saying it, I have to admit to holding in a satisfied smirk when Noah stomps past me to the locker rooms. I don't bother pretending I'm going to stick around, both to avoid my stepbrother's wrath and any invitations from Danny. A couple guys thump me on the back as I walk past, or call out their congratulations for a good play, before I set off into the rain towards the apartment.

I'm so freaking pumped up and feeling good, the blood is surging towards my crotch the entire way through my shower. I'm grinning ear to ear, walking on air, as I wash off all the grime from practice and head into my room. I consider texting Danny to thank him, wondering if I should give talking to him a try. Even if I'm not interested in him like that, he said we could talk, and he seems like a nice guy. I'm feeling brave enough.

I don't go for my phone right away, though, instead reveling in the moment. I flop down on my bed with a deep, satisfied sigh. There's something so empowering about having this one thing, this one moment, over Noah. I know it won't last, but damn, it feels good.

Really good.

The cool air of my ceiling fan sends a tickle of awareness that my towel has fallen open. The breeze sends gooseflesh over my thighs, and my half hard dick throbs to full mast. Not allowing myself to think too much about it, I wrap my hand around the base of my shaft and slowly stroke upwards. A low moan reverberates through my chest, and my eyes flutter closed. Behind my heavy lids, Noah's hard stare of determination bores into me, setting my blood on fire. My breathing picks up as my fist tightens, and my strokes increase. I hear his voice in the back of my head.

"You like that, don't you, Lane?"

"You like being my dirty little slut behind closed doors?"

"Say my name when you come."

I'm frantically beating myself when the front door opens and heavy footsteps stomp through the apartment. Launching out of my bed, I hastily pull the towel to cover myself and lunge to shut the door just as Noah comes into view.

CHAPTER 13

NOAH

I'm in a shit mood by the time I make it back to the dorms, ignoring everyone and everything in a blind rage just to get to my room. I don’t bother acknowledging anyone's presence as I stomp through the dorm lobby towards the stairs. Too many people use the elevator, and I don't want to talk to anyone. Usually I smile, wave, and chat up anyone I come across, but I ignore the several people calling out my name in favor of getting upstairs as quickly as possible.

All I want is to rage at my asshole stepbrother and sleep off this bullshit day. If I didn't have class and a match tomorrow, I'd probably pull out the bottle of vodka I keep buried at the bottom of my closet. On an empty stomach, it'd only take a few swigs to help blur this entire bullshit day.

A hand grabs my bicep and pulls me back before I can push the button for the elevator. "Noah!"

"What?!" I bark, whipping around to face Miah.

He raises an eyebrow and throws his hands up in front of him in surrender.

"Sorry, dude. I was calling your name, but you couldn't hear me through your rage haze. You nearly mowed over Peters. What's your deal?"

"Nothing," I snap, but immediately feel bad.

It's not Miah's fault I've had a shitty couple of days, and he wasn't even on the field when I face-planted in the mud in front of our entire team. I’m not mad at him, or Peters. I will, however, wipe the smirk off Danny Hastings’ face if he looks over here one more time.

I peek around Miah's shoulder at Peters, who is scowling over at me with his bare feet pulled up on the couch. I cringe down at my own feet. It was too rainy to wear my slides, and I didn't even consider that I've been stomping around in my cleats. Not only did I almost hurt one of our forwards, I tracked mud and clumps of grass through the lobby. I quickly toe out of my shoes, and try to send Peters an apologetic grin, but he pointedly looks away from me, engrossed in conversation once again.

Huffing out a long breath, I look back at my best friend.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just had a shitty day, and I want to get upstairs before my asshole stepbrother gets back."

Chances are, he's already been home to shower and left for dinner. Normally I'd walk down with him, but I'm not in the mood to deal with him or anyone else tonight. I'd prefer to avoid everyone after my embarrassing display at the scrimmage today. I don’t think I would have been as upset if Danny hadn’t been hooting and hollering, making a big deal out of it. And Lane laughed, which makes me think he did it on purpose.

"Look man, that sucked serious shit. I only laughed a little."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Some best friend you are."

He laughs and pats my shoulder. "Go get some rest. And take this. I think you could use it." Miah puts something in my hand, and I look down at a Snickers bar.

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