Page 22 of The Masks We Break

And that reality is that Remy is becoming more dangerous to me than I am to her.

* * *

“Down, set, hut!”The center snaps the ball to Bellamy, whose eyes find me in seconds.

One, two, three, four, five, now.

Like clockwork, Bellamy throws a perfect spiral, and it lands straight into my outstretched hands. Euphoria erupts in my veins, pushing my legs faster as I dodge a lineman, spinning to the right. Once he’s behind me, it’s free-range. I pick up pace, squeeze my eyes, ignoring the cool blast of air coming through my helmet. The muffled cheers of the team barely register as I cross the end zone.

I imagine every touchdown feels similar to when my father shakes the hand of a new client. A done deal after hard work, planning, and proper execution. It’s a wonder to me why he doesn’t have more respect for the sport. It’s more physical, yes, but it’s just as grueling and equally as satisfying.

Bellamy beams as I jog back to the offensive line while the team gets ready for another play. Coach has us running a light practice before tonight’s game, and with my later plans lined up, I feel lighter—something Bellamy seems to notice.

“Bro, I counted to six, and your ass was at least twenty yards farther than usual. Did you get some? Empty some of that extra weight?”

I cringe at his implications that my cum weighs that much, but then play with the idea since it’s been so damn long. “Shut it and line up. Oh, and by the way, your throw was off-center. Maybe you’re the one that needs a reprieve.”

Bellamy cackles, his bright teeth showing even through the foggy mouth guard. “Suck my dick, Bardot. My throws always hit their mark.”

I make a show of rolling my eyes and line back up.

The next play yields the same results, and the play after that. Coach seems happy enough and ends our practice early, yelling about how we’d better play the same tonight.

“This game is in the bag as long as you keep this same energy, bro.” Bellamy slaps my shoulder pads, tearing off his helmet.

As long as my mind stays clear with no distractions and the promise of a much-needed release later, I plan to continue this energy for as long as I can.

We shower, and I change quickly before riding back to the Square. For the first time in a while, I actually relax on the couch and let an action movie play in the background as I doze off. It’s strange. Being a man of facts, data, and hard truths, I don’t believe in being positively optimistic, yet I find myself hoping that my plan works out. It makes sense when I think about it, but the little voice I rarely hear is ever prevalent today, reminding me that even before I ran into Remy again, I still needed to think of her when I was with other women in order to come.

It’s my last thought before drifting to sleep.

My vibrating hip wakes me up, and I pick up the phone without looking at the screen.

“Are you ready, B?”

Lily, a longtime friend, asks a little too loud, making me wince.

“Don’t have to get ready if you stay ready, dear.”

She scoffs, and I imagine her rolling those large chocolate eyes. I’ve known her since we were in middle school when I spotted her bruised thigh across the football field. I overheard her tell a few cheerleaders it was from hopping off a cabinet and hitting the counter, but I know the blunt end of a liquor bottle. It leaves a near-perfect circle, and depending on the type of glass, the center is clear, making a ring-type bruise. It took some time before she trusted me and told me the truth, but since then, we were always there for each other. She gave me the outlet I didn’t know I needed.

I found that I liked taking care of her after fallouts from her abusive mother. There’s something about helping someone when I couldn’t help myself that lessened the pain I felt. Made it more manageable. Or maybe gave me a reason not to give up my own fight since I knew someone else needed me. Either way, we made it through the roughest of times imaginable.

“Do you have a second?”

“For you? Always. What’s going on?” I lean forward, stretching my arms.

When she used to call, it was to help clean her up after a nasty fight, but since her aunt came back in the picture, and her boyfriend, Spencer, fell on his ass for her, I know she’s in good hands.

“If you have never had a chocolate cake, would you know you were eating one if I gave you a piece?”

My eyebrows furrow. “Lily, what the hell are you talking about? I just woke up and—”

“You slept during the daytime?”

“Get to the point.”

Lily sighs and repeats the question word for word as if it will make me understand it any better the second time around. “I probably would, considering I know what chocolate looks like.”

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