Page 21 of Stealing Home

The more awake I get, the less it makes sense for Harlow to be in my bed. There’s no way she’d cheat on her husband, especially not so brazenly by walking through a house full of his players to enter my bedroom.

I grab the arm and squeeze. “Get your hand off my dick,” I seethe.

She lets go, and I roll over to see her. I should have suspected it would be Katrina.

Plucking the earbuds from my ears, I shout, “What the fuck are you doing in my room? I locked the fucking door, shouldn’t that have been a clue you weren’t wanted in here?”

My yelling attracts attention, someone opens my door, and some of the guys crowd together in my doorway.

“Woohoo! The hookup king is back in action!” Marco cheers.

Max reaches out and slaps him on the back of the head. “Shut up, dumbass,” he growls.

I shove Katrina, and she falls out of my bed, landing hard on her bony ass. Jumping out of bed, I grab my sweats and pull them on. Storming down the stairs, I go to the stereo and yank the cord from the wall. The music cuts off so suddenly, everyone freezes in place.

“What the fuck?” Taylor shouts.

Pointing my finger in his face I say, “We’re having a house meeting tomorrow. Drink some water and go to bed. You’re going to be dragging ass tomorrow at practice.”

“Everyone else, go home. Call a cab or walk, but if you get in a vehicle I’ll go straight to one of the coaches,” I threaten.

Campbell rolls his eyes. “Chill out. Rivera won’t give a shit and you know it.”

“Tucker will,” I say.

“Well, he’s not in charge, now is he?” Campbell snaps.

Max comes down the stairs dragging a pissed off Katrina. She is whining and dragging her feet. He thrusts her into Campbell’s arms. “It’s late, and this isn’t your house. Take this grabby bitch and get the fuck out.”

No one moves, and Will steps up on the other side of me, puts his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Get the fuck out!”

The rest of our teammates, some of their friends, and the girls who follow the team all scramble for the exits.

“Practice is going to suck tomorrow,” Max mumbles.

I grunt in agreement, and head back up to my room. This time I wedge a chair under the door knob.

8

Scott

Practice the next morning sucked,just as I predicted. A few of the guys puked during the morning run. Taylor fell on his ass several times while I practiced my pitches. Halfway through practice it was abundantly clear that only Max, Will, and I were prepared to be there, and Coach Tucker sent us home.

Max, Will, and I manage to corner Taylor during our mutual lunch break and drag him to one of the dining halls on campus. He partied hard enough last night that even with his dark complexion he somehow manages to look a little pale and green.

He hangs his head when he sees the look on our faces as we surround him in the booth. “I know, I fucked up big. Believe me, Coach Tucker made us pay for it when you three left this morning.”

Max raps his knuckles on the top of the table. “Good that you know that the drinking three days before our first game is fucking stupid, but that’s not what the four of us need to talk about.”

“There’s four of us in the house, and you’re the only one who wants it to be a constant party. I am trying to balance work, school, and baseball. Max and Scott have harder classes and baseball to contend with. We would like to be able to sleep or study in our own house,” Will explains.

Taylor nods his head over and over. “The guys are going to be pissed.”

“I don’t give a fuck. We don’t go to their houses, trash the place, and keep them up all hours. We pay the rent at this house, not them. If they’d like to chip in and cover the rent, then they can have a say,” I argue.

Taylor deflates. He knows the three of us aren’t going to budge. “I won’t invite the team over again without checking with you guys first.”

Max shrugs. “I suppose that is good enough.”

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