Page 113 of Blitz'd

It was good we got married when we did, so we could wear the same name on the backs of our jerseys when we got drafted.

Kerian was pissed when I was the number one draft pick to the New York Stallions, while he was the second, getting drafted to the Buffalo Cavaliers. Even though Meridian finished the season with a better record than Evergreen, I had better passing and rushing yards than Kerian, if only by five and seven yards, respectively. We were neck and neck, so it was a toss up who would be first.

But that didn’t matter. He’s still so fucking competitive. Kerian didn’t blow me for a week after we got drafted. I had to pull out all the stops and walk around our condo—that’s smack dab between our two stadiums—wearing the red set of lingerie he got me on our first date for him to buckle. He wrecked my ass that night, taking all his frustrations out on my hole.

I was not complaining.

I had to call Colson and Mom to tell them we weren’t feeling well so they wouldn’t come up to our condo to visit that day. After I got my first check, I moved them both from Virginia up to New York, buying them separate condos in the same building.

It’s a good and bad thing they’re so close by. Kerian and I love when they visit, especially when Mom cooks for us, but it’s not so much fun when they wanna hang out when Kerian is balls deep inside me. It really ruins the mood.

Before my mind drifts too far into the past, my kicker, Brett Moone, bumps my shoulder. “Looks like hubs isn’t happy that we have first possession.”

I look up at the jumbotron and see Kerian with his hands in the front of his jersey, the furrow between his brows telling me he is indeed not pleased.

It’s pure luck that Moone and I ended up on the same team here in New York. He was the tenth-round pick and ended up kicking for me once again in the pros.

Better him than our Evergreen second-string kicker.

Not that Justin could have been drafted anyway. He was attacked a week after I got injured in our last game with Meridian. He was there with the dick who hit me with that late tackle. Whoever it was fucked them over really good—Easton’s arm was broken so badly he had a diminished range of motion, and Justin’s leg was practically shattered in three places.

Maybe the exterior shit healed, but physical therapy was never going to get them back to where they were.

Fucking good.

Not that he ever admitted it, but I know Kerian had something to do with their injuries. We all wondered why Justin and Easton were together, since we were technically rivals, and it came out that Justin had Easton tackle me the way he did to try to hurt me.

The cops talked to us at practice the day after they were found and asked if we saw or heard anything, but we all denied it. After the hit I took in the game, I was looked at suspiciously, but since I was down with a head injury and dizzy spells that had me on my ass, they ruled me out. They asked about Kerian, but I told them he was with me the entire time, and we were watching a movie at his and Asher’s apartment. I was nervous since I implicated Asher in my lie, but he must have done the same because the police said Kerian’s alibi checked out.

It was actually Megan who told me about the setup.

When I finally went back to campus after spending close to two weeks at Kerian’s apartment, she was waiting outside my room, her eyes red-rimmed.

I rolled my eyes, sure I was gonna hear some bullshit about her car or her crying about Justin’s injury, but what she said blew me away.

“What?” I asked, limping into my room.

She stepped in behind me, looking me over like she was worried. “I’m so sorry, Zander.”

I sighed and sat on the bed, toeing my shoes off. “We’ve been over this. I don’t care that you cheated. I don’t?—”

“No,” she whispered, kneeling in front of me, tears running down her cheeks. “I know what happened to you. And I’m sorry. Justin… he…” She ran her fingers through her hair. “We’re so fucking done. He only told me what he did last night. I swear, I didn’t know he was still fucking with you. I thought after you got with Slade, he would see you weren’t trying to get me back. I don’t know why he did it. But I’m going to the dean when I leave here. I just wanted to?—”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it,” I told her. His knee was fucked. That was punishment enough. “Thanks for telling me.”

No one else would have a reason to go after both JustinandEaston but my husband.

Kerian is a total psycho.

And I love him more than life.

Grinning over at Moone, I say, “He’ll be even more mad when we beat the shit out of them today.”

We didnotwin the game. The Cavaliers took us to school, beating us 30–12. We didn’t get a single touchdown, Moone working overtime to get us the field goals so we had some points on the board. I didn’t have a bad game, but Kerian and the Cavaliers had a great game. As usual, he was on fire, and I couldn’t deny that tonight he was the better quarterback.

Only for tonight. We both know I am miles better than he is.

There are a few post-game stations that are itching to get a sound bite from me or Kerian, probably wanting to ask the Braithe-Slade’s how it feels to play against each other. But first, we line up with our team and slap hands, getting smug congratulations from the Cavaliers. Since we’re both New York teams, we have a friendly rivalry, though we have no hard feelings.

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