Page 77 of No Broken Promises

“Fuck you and the air on your balls, Linc.” One of the guys rolls off the top of the pile and clambers to his feet like he does this every day, probably because he does. “I fucking told you to wear a cup, you dumbass.”

I cackle, unable to help it or stop myself. Their pain makes me happy, and the fact that Linc may have lost his shorts makes the whole thing better.

Funnier.

More hilarious since I’m going to get it on video for Kennedy.

“Hey, Linc,” Dom pipes up from the other side of the pile. “Why in the absolute fuck do I feel your balls on my hand?”

“Oh, I’m dying.” Gasping for air while trying not to piss myself, I struggle to get my phone to stop shaking.

More grunts and yells come from the field.

“Get your fucking balls off my hand, Linc!” Dom’s voice rises about two octaves. “Holy shit, man, I just felt them twitch. Get the fuck off me.”

My phone slips out of my hand and hits the bleacher. But I’m laughing so hard I can’t even keep my eyes open, let alone care about the phone right now.

When I can finally open my eyes again, Remy is standing in front of me, blocking my view of the field.

“Out of the way, Remington,” I snap, leaning down to pick up my phone. “I have to record this for blackmail. Don’t you want to keep our free babysitter for Nox?” Honestly, though, Kennedy is the only person I trust with Nox.

“We don’t need blackmail for that, Parker. And my name, for the last fucking time, is not Remington. It’s Jeremy, or Remy to you.”

He flips over the rail, giving me another glimpse of his muscles in those shorts, and my mouth starts to water.

“Keep it together, Parker.” He smiles at me, and I try to shoo him away halfheartedly.

He moves over, just in time for everyone to get an eyeful of Linc’s dick.

He really hadn’t worn any underwear.

“Gross,” I groan. “That’s like seeing my brother’s dick.”

“You were married to my twin brother,” Linc calls out as he picks up his shorts, completely unashamed that an entire field full of people just saw his twig and berries. “You’ve literally seen it before.”

I flush, drawing the attention of everyone in the area for half a second, before Remy blocks their view and my embarrassment. Then, with a smile on his face, the jerk kisses me, rubbing his sweaty body all over me.

I gag, my throat convulsing as his disgusting body touches mine.

It’s a beautiful thing to watch him work out, but touching him is the opposite. And I’m pretty sure that I’m dying.

“You’re so gross, Remington,” I groan in disgust while I try to wipe it off with my sleeve. “Why would you do that?”

“Stop calling me Remington and I’ll stop doing annoying things. Nox is even calling me Remington now, Parker, and I don’t like it. You know that.”

He tries, at least once a week, to get me to stop using the nickname, and all he accomplishes is making me use it more frequently. So I just smile at his latest tactic and silently promise to get my revenge. Besides, Nox and I make a game out of who can get away with using the wrong name more before Remy loses his patience.

Remy slips on the edge of the rail, and I reached out to grab his arm before he falls on his ass and breaks something.

I miss by an inch and he hits his knee.

Hard.

“I guess it’s a good thing you’ve got knee pads like an old man.” Snickering, I hold out a hand to help him get up, but Remy doesn’t take it.

Instead, he reaches around into one of his football cleats, and I roll my eyes.

“What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself trying to keep up with the younger generation?”

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