Page 1 of Cherry Picking
PART ONE
CHAPTER 1
GRIFFIN
Lucky number thirteen.
Five years and thirteen teams; they must be running out of places to put me.
Not that I blame them. Being king of smashing jaws and getting my teammates sent to the penalty box for stupid shit is a sure fire way to get myself booted.
What can I say? I’m a protective hothead who also happens to be over all the homophobic chirping that players think makes them sound tough.
That doesn’t mean I’m expecting a warm welcome from the Chattanooga Hornets at our first—absolutely not compulsory—practice of the off-season.
It does mean that I’m rattling the ratty old floorboard in my best friend’s truck with how aggressively I’m shaking my leg to all the nervous thoughts in my head.
A hand lands on my thigh with an iron tight grip, and I force my leg still even though it makes me feel like an over pressurized soda can.
“Griff. My baby is old. Shake her like this and she might just break down for good.”
There’s something ironic about Locke being a mechanic and owning the most beat down Chevrolet on the entire planet.
I shoo his hand back to his side of the truck, where he puts it on the steering wheel and rolls his eyes.
“Big Bad Griffin Foster nervous over some puckheads? Never thought I’d see the day.”
His eyes are on the road, and there’s a big ass smile on his face. While I’m settling in, Locke is letting me crash at his place, and since I don’t currently have a car, he’s also my temporary chauffeur.
Which sucks for him because it’s a little after five in the morning where Coach is having us do a morning workout before the grueling practice starts.
“You gonna stay and watch? I’m sure there’s some good asses in there.”
Locke came out to me in high school, and it was actually walking in on him and some guy fooling around that gave me a full blown sexual awakening. I thought most people preferred touching their own dick to getting off with someone else.
Turns out, I was just getting off with the wrong gender.
He snorts and shakes his head. “There isn’t an ass or dick in the world that could keep me from the sweet embrace of sleep. I’m crawling my happy ass right back into bed until the shop opens at seven.”
One would think an extra hour of sleep wouldn’t seem like such a big deal, but I learned a long time ago not to get between Locke and his rest. It’s like they’ve got some holy matrimony voodoo going on there.
“I’ll have you sick of me and kicking me out in no time.”
Locke reaches over the console and flicks my temple, throwing me a brief but stern glare.
“You gotta make this one stick, Griff.” Locke’s tone is uncharacteristically serious, and the silence that follows ismildly unnerving as he pulls into the Hornets’ rink and throws the truck into park.
I give him a lopsided smile. “You know I don’t try to get traded, right?”
He shakes his head, running a hand through his long, blond hair and throwing me those steely puppy eyes that always make me cave to his every request.
“I want to be able to see your stupid face in person more than once every couple of months. Try not to break any noses or royally piss off your teammates on the first day. Sound fair?”
With an exaggerated sigh, I seesaw my hand in the air and shrug. “Sounds boring, but I can give it a shot. No promises, though.”
Locke groans and drops his head to the steering wheel. “You’re a menace.”
“So has said every coach and captain I’ve ever had.”
