Page 77 of The Player's Obsession

“No need to be a hater,” I quip, to change the topic to avoid more lies. What am I doing? These are my best friends, and I’m not being honest with them.

But I don't know what the future holds. What if Penelope is the one? I can’t break up with her and get back together. She would never give me a second chance. Breakups are difficult, why risk going through it again? I believe there needs to be a good reason to substantiate a breakup that involves household appliances and treasured friendships.

I don’t like hiding things from my friends. I should confess my sins, but I don’t because I’m enjoying my time with Penelope. We’re at the beginning of a budding romance. I want to nest with her, and this weekend is a perfect opportunity to see if we’re compatible.

Mm, this is a fake engagement.What am I thinking?

Is it possible that Penelope and I might be great together?

I’m happy. Darrel is talking about fixing a leaky toilet in his guest bathroom, and all I can think about is meeting Penelope back in the room and sinking my cock…

“Are you even listening, Oliver?” Darrel says.

I’m busted.

“Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”

“He’s thinking about Penelope. How is it you’re suddenly over Melanie after you moped and whined nonstop for months? This isn’t a rebound thing, is it?” Travis asks as he finishes his Bloody Mary.

The attendant appears, and Travis is whisked off for a massage.

“So, what gives? You don’t act hastily unless a football is involved.” Darrel’s accusatory tone hurts.

“I’m figuring it out as I go. What can I say?”

“Mm.” Using his first two fingers to point from his eyes to me, he signals he has his eyes on me.

Great. Just what I need, added pressure to prove myself.

The attendant returns, leading us to adjoining rooms for our massages.

I remove my robe and slippers before lying on the heated massage table. I pull the warm blanket over me and wonder if Penelope is having a good time. I’m thankful for the relaxing smells in the room. Lavender, Bergamot, and sage oils are for reducing stress. Even our training and rehabilitation coaches recommend oils infused with them to keep us healthy and balanced. I have no idea if it does or doesn’t work, but I imbibe when the work is done for me.

After forty-five minutes of a deep tissue massage, I join the others in the sauna. It’s a heated room with two levels of wood benches. The sauna is supposed to be quiet for reflection and relaxation, so we lounge around with our eyes closed.

The door opens noisily, and Nathan walks in with someone who looks like his brother and the kicker of the team, Cam Carridine.

“Hey, guys,” Cam says.

“Hey, how are you?” I ask. He’s a great kicker. I’m relieved I don’t have to worry about making the guys uncomfortable because Nathan and I are in the same room.

“Hey, great party last night,” Travis says.

Maybe it’s time for me to hit the champagne. What are the odds we’re here at the same time?

“Thanks, Melanie loves everything to be a show. It’s one of her eccentricities that I adore.”

From the tone of his voice, it sounds more like annoyance than adoration.

“We can’t wait for tomorrow. I hope we won’t be too hung over to enjoy your wedding.”

“You and me both, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone got drunk married, would it?”

At this point in time, the three of us are noticeably uncomfortable. Is he implying that Travis was drunk when he married Rose in Las Vegas?

“We’re all good, Nathan. Are you okay?” Travis asks.

“Yeah, great. I’m going to sit and sweat for a bit,” he says as his lookalike brother sticks protectively by his side. I wonder if Nathan is drunk or pissed about something else. I’ve never known him to be unkind to his teammates.

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