Page 38 of Blitz'd

“Whatever, Slade. Get your head in the game and stop fucking up.” Easton throws one more barb before turning and heading down the field.

I’m even more irritated because I know he’s right. I haven’t been able to focus, and Ihaveto focus. I’m going to the NFL—nothing is going to stop me. Not my shitty parents trying to talk me out of football when I was younger because it was a dream that wouldn’t make my dad look goodwhenI failed… and not their greedy fucking fingers gripping at my ankles now that they realize I’m going tomake it.

Anddefinitelynot Zander Braithe and his stupid fucking smile, or his soft lips, or his little moans.

Besides, if I fuck up now,he’sgoing to be the one to go all the way and I’ll be… what? Left behind?

I don’t fucking think so. He’s not going anywhere that I’m not.

On the next snap, my hands close around the ball with ease. I drop back a few steps, spot my tight end, and let the ball fly. It would have been on the ESPN highlight reel if it was an actual game. The play was perfect. Everyone is in the right place when they need to be.

It’s this kind of shit that’s going to get me seen, noticed, get me to the future that’sminefor the taking.

Coach blows his whistle, a wide grin on his face. “That’s what I’m talking about, Slade. Excellent play. Now, run it again!” I reset my position, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I know the only reason I’m focusing right now isstillbecause of Zander.

He’s fucking everything up.

I’m stillseethingwhen I shower off after practice, and I have full intentions of going back to my apartment when I’m done. I need to get out of my head. It’sobviousthat whatever this obsession with Zander is, it’s not good,no matterhowgood his body feels. He’s under my skin in a way I’ve never let anyone get before.

He’s like aninfection, a fever burning through me and stripping away my senses. He’s making mesickand I don’t know what to do about it.

I wassoftwith him last night. I’d meant to bring him to my apartment and fuck him silly, but Itook careof him.

And fuck me, it felt good.

The thought makes my teeth clench, and I actually let out a grunt of frustration when I turn right instead of left.

For some reason, I was going to his damn school again instead of my apartment. I didn’t know where hewasthis time, and I didn’t want to show up at his dorm. But I couldn’t deny the fact that I needed toseehim.

Maybe a part of me wanted to know if actually seeing him would make me realize that I’d fucked him out of my system.

But…

Shit, I’d called him mine, and it wasn’t like I wanted to take it back.

With a low groan, I pull my phone out. Next time I have him alone, I’m going to install a tracker on his so I can keep up with him. For now, I have to do this the old-fashioned way.

Thankfully, Zander is a social fucking butterfly. He posted a picture less than ten minutes ago at one of the off-campus diners. His face is warm and sweet, and it doesn’tlooklike he’s silently being tortured by the thought of me.

It doesn’t look like he’s thinking about me at all.

I don’t recognize the ugly feeling that flashes through my chest as I turn toward the diner in question and park in the lot beside it. I’ve had Zander in my car before, so I have to be a little more careful when I…

Fuck, I’m stalking him.

I want to watch him, to follow him, to see how he ticks and if anyone else makes his pupils blow wide and his body flush. I told him he was mine, but I’m not sure he really understood what he was agreeing to when he said yes.

I’m not sure I knew what I was asking, but apparently that doesn’t matter.

All that matters is the way irritation spikes through my chest when I see him sitting at a table with a bunch of guys I don’t recognize and a few I do from games. The big asshole he was hanging out with before is on his right, but I haveno ideawho the fucker on his left is. He keeps leaning against Zander’s shoulder and whispering shit in his ear, and every time it gets a smile out of Zander, something inside me twitches.

It’s not good—Iknowit’s not good, but the world around me narrows down to every single touch exchanged between the mystery guy and the man who I had spread out and begging for me on my bed last night.

The world narrows down to the way IseeZander lean away from the touch a few times, and the way the asshole just scoots closer.

It narrows down to a singular thought that I’mnotgoing to be able to walk away from this clean, and I really need to get a hold of myself before I torch the world and everything I’ve been working for because my temper is getting the better of me.

I haven’t given in to rage since I was ateenager, but this…

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