Page 37 of Aftersome
The point was he didn’t like me, whether I played good or bad.
It was a lose-lose situation, but right now, I had other pressing issues to tend to.
I was frustrated, confused, and already planning to hunt her down before I had gotten to the locker room. It couldn’t have been a coincidence that I saw her tonight.
Not when it came to her.
She was my kryptonite. Even after all these years she still reigned supreme in that category over any other girl I may have been with.
Fucking pathetic.
As we were all now in the locker room, preparing for either celebrating the win by going out, or celebrating with our families, I began to get dressed.
“Dude, have you seen the new chick yet?” Jenson, our winger, announced to the guy beside him. I was half-ass listening, mainly focusing on the need to escape.
“Nah, but I’ve heard good things.”
They both laughed.
“Saw her tonight before the game. Had these long braids in her hair,” he boasted, instantly causing my eyes to roll. “Fucking perfection.” Jenson groaned.
I was the oldest one on the team. Most of my teammates were in their early-to-mid twenties. While pussy and fame were high priorities for most of them, I tended to stay away from the two.
“You thinkin’ about asking her out?”
I was mostly dressed now, shoving my feet into my shoes when Jenson responded.
“I fuckin’ want to, but you know the rules. She’s our new social media manager.”
I started to listen more closely now, my stomach churning in a way that I didn’t like.
“You know her name?”
Just as I was about to close my locker, he answered.
“It’s a cute name, I think it starts with a W… uhh, Wren. Her name’s Wren.”
My whole body went rigid. Heart halting in my chest, every muscle and nerve I had twitched.
Wren.
Braids.
Fuck, I was seconds away from combusting.
I didn’t know whether I wanted to wrap my hands around his fucking neck for talking about her, or go find the newest Orchids employee and demand answers.
What the fuck was she thinking and why the hell was she here?
I was already out of it. Completely zoned out with the rage of an army flowing through me as I slammed my locker closed. Then turning to face the prick standing in from of me with a smile plastered across his face and Wren’s name on the tip of his tongue, I lunged at him.
“You ever say her name again, you ever look at her, or try to talk to her, I’ll have you off this team and scrubbing the shit off the stadium floors with a fucking toothbrush.”
He looked at me like I was insane for coming at him as he cowered back into his locker.
“Dude, what? Do you know her or something?”
He tried puffing out his chest, but my six-four frame made him appear microscopic. He was the rookie, so he knew he had no pull or sway as all the guys were oblivious to what was transpiring. They were all too busy with their own conversations to be bothered by us.
