Page 47 of Blitz'd

“You think you’re hot shit, Slade, but you aren’t. What are you going to do when you don’t goanywhereafter college? What are you going to do when the world realizes you’re full of shit and not half as good as you think you are?”

I drop the bar back in the saddle, not needing his help as a spotter, and walk away from him to get on the treadmill. I can feel him glaring at my back because I stopped his pump, but fuck him.

“Give it a few years, Easton. We’ll see who is in the NFL and who is flipping burgers. Hint.” I throw a middle finger up over my shoulder. “You’ll probably fucking suck at that too.”

I hear the low growl of irritation pool from his chest a second before he speaks again.

“One of these days someone is going to knock you off the pedestal you put yourself on, Slade. I just hope I’m close enough that I can fucking kick you while you’re down.”

I see red, and I actually turn and start toward him—but I notice the moment of satisfaction that surges into his gaze, and it’s enough to draw me up short.

Wearen’talone. I have to remind myself again. We’re surrounded by the team, and the shit-eating grin on his face tells me hewantsme to slip while we’re in public, where he can fuck me over for losing my temper.

I don’t like that Easton apparently sees past the calm, ambivalent mask I wear, to realize I have anger issues beneath it.

I like it even less that he has no idea what he’s actually provoking when he flips me off before turning to do his next set. He doesn’t understand that I wouldn’t justhithim. I wouldn’t just throw a punch that he could recover from.

I think back to the motherfucker I went after for touching Zander—I haven’t heard shit about him, so I was right in assuming he wasn’t going to report the assault.

If Easton keeps pushing me, I’ll make what I did to that asshole look like child’s play in comparison.

He’s still grinning like an asshole when we finally finish for the day, and I’m itching to get the fuck away from him before I completely lose it. I’m usually better at controlling my anger than this, and Iknowwhat’s different.

I haven’t seen Braithe in over a week.

Not seeing someone shouldn’t put me on the edge of losing the cool exterior I’ve cultivated my entire life and worn like a mask so people don’t see how empty I am underneath, but here I am.

It doesn’t help that he pulls out his phone before he even gets into the shower, leaning his sweaty ass against the wall while he has a full-on conversation with someone about meeting up after classes tonight.

As tempted as I am to take Easton’s damn phone and use it to break his nose, I know better. It’s worse because there’s at least a little truth to what he was saying—Iamdistracted. I’vebeendistracted.

And it’s time for me to finally prove to myself once and for all that I don’t need shit from anyone else,especiallyZander Braithe.

ChapterFifteen

ZANDER

“Now,”Professor Conley, my Principles of Financial and Managerial Accounting professor says, walking over to the board in the front of the classroom, “there will be a quiz next week on the material we went over today. Be sure you study, as this will be closed book.” Several groans of annoyance rend the air, mine joining in. Professor Conley smiles like he doesn’t give a fuck about our unhappiness. “Also, upload your paper into the plagiarism software when you turn it in.”

We’re released shortly after.

Thankfully, I got my paper done weeks ago, when I was stressing about the new, crazy feelings I was having about Kerian. Unlike most people who will probably be scrambling to get it written and turned in this weekend, I’ll be free to do what I want.

And I want to see Kerian. It’s been more than a week since I’ve seen him. Sending random pictures is not the same as seeing his grumpy face or smelling his scent or touching his hard body.

God, I’m losing my fucking mind if all I can think about doing this weekend is Kerian. If anyone had told me I’d be obsessed with Slade in a way other than hating his shitty attitude, I’d have told them to fuck all the way off. But here I am, obsessed with my biggest rival.

I’m not even ashamed.

Though I feel like it’sobviousI’m obsessed with him—or a man in general. One of the team’s groupies, Alec, was never touchy with me before, but the day after I fucked Kerian he was all over me like he could smell my bisexuality. I felt nothing when he touched me or spoke to me in a breathy whisper. I wanted to be polite, but he really laid it on thick.

I feel bad that he got jumped by his drug dealer and had his hand broken, causing his parents to put him in rehab a few states over. But I wasn’t upset that he was gone. I’m sure if he were still around, he would have tried harder to get me to fuck him.

Hard pass.

As I enter my dorm building and jog up the stairs, my phone rings. My heart does this little flip in my chest, hoping it’s Kerian, but then I tamp that shit down. Kerian doesn’t call me. He doesn’t always look that happy when I callhim. The only time he called before was to get me off in my hotel room.

Just as I suspect, it’s not Kerian calling me, but Colson. I meant to call him a few days ago, but Russ came over and we hit the gym, then the caf, and I was exhausted when I got back to my room. I had just enough energy to wash the sweat from my limbs before I collapsed into bed.

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