Page 45 of Blitz'd

I nod, not dropping my eyes. I don’t want him to think I’m ashamed of being with a dude or it being Kerian. He might be my rival, but he’s also something… more now.

“Wow,” Russ says with a crooked smile. “That’s a development.”

“You’re telling me,” I say with a chuckle. “It wasn’t planned, that’s for sure.”

“One kiss and he has you losing your mind. He must have some skills with his tongue.” He waggles his tongue out at me ridiculously.

I take a pillow from behind my head and throw it at him. “Fuck off.” He catches it and laughs, tossing it back beside me. “He’s… different than I imagined. He’s still an asshole and rude as fuck but… I don’t know. Something about himshifted,if that makes sense. I like him, Russ.”

He nods and lies back on his bed. “I don’t get it, but it’s not for me to understand. As long as he doesn’t fuck you over.”

“For some reason, I don’t think he will.”

ChapterFourteen

KERIAN

I usually love away games,so I’m not going to admitwhyI would rather be back at my apartment instead of lying stretched out on a hotel room bed listening to Easton snoring beside me. Ihatesharing rooms. I hate having to bearoundpeople.

And I hate that the glow of my phone in my hand is like a beacon to the bullshit that’s running through my head.

I’m looking at Zander’s name on the screen, at the texts we’ve been exchanging over the days while we’ve both been too busy with practice and games for me to fuck his brains out again.

My thumb idly flips the words up—it’s alotof words.

It’s an entire paragraph of him complaining about an essay he had to write, because he thinks the professor is intentionally trying to fail half the class.

It’s Zander, sending me a picture of his breakfast, and telling me that if I keep eating pizza I’m going to get fat while he goes straight to the NFL.

It’s Zander, sending me a fucking selfie of a broad white smile and his tongue sticking out.

My eyes linger on the picture a little too long for comfort, and I let out a frustrated sound even as I punch in a text response.

Me: You look fucking ridiculous.

I stare at the message for a second and then backspace it.

Me: I can think of better ways for you to use tha-

I’m backspacing the message before I even finish it this time, and with a low grunt of irritation, I lift my phone into the air and yank the cover down, throwing my arm over my head so I can snap a picture of me looking exhausted and irritated.

That’s about right.

I send it to him and throw my phone onto the floor beside the bed before I do something absolutely ridiculous, likecallhim.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing—every time I meet up with him, I tell myself it’ll be the last time. I’m used to running through people and getting over it, getting overthem. I’m used to fucking and not caring.

But Zander is stillthere. His stupid fucking smile is still bright, and his body is still tight and warm.

Just the thought of it is enough to get my cock hard beneath the covers, and I let out a frustrated sound and press my palm against it beneath the covers. Unlike Braithe,I’mnotgoing to get off while a teammate can hear me. The last thing I need is someone like Easton deciding he wants to jump on my dick. He’salwaysbeen jealous of my talent, and he hasn’t eventriedto keep it secret. I don’t need his hate for me turning into some fucked-up, unrequited crush.

My jaw tightens at the sound of the phone buzzing on the floor beside me, and my hands clench into fists.

I’mnotgoing to pick it up.

What I’m going to do is roll over and fucking sleep. I played animmaculategame earlier, and I’m not going to consider that I might have pushed even harder because someone texted me to tell me they would be watching.

I don’tplayfor anyone else.

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