Page 40 of Tamed (The Courtside King Duology 1)

— SEVEN —

FOUR MONTHS LATER

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“C’mon. Finish this, Grandma, or you’re doing two more.”

Breck glowered up at Tad from the bench he laid sprawled atop. “Fuck. You. Mitchel,” he grated, gripping his barbell.

His spotting partner snickered, but Breck wasn’t fooled. Tad was just frustrated that he couldn’t beat Breck’s record. Groused about it every time they got drunk. In Tad’s defense, he gave it his all at every workout. Which Breck respected. And for all Tad’s effort, he was looking pretty sweet. He’d never catch up, though. While he was maxing at two-forty, Breck was benching two-sixty-eight.

Growling through his final rep, Breck racked his barbell and gingerly sat up. To his right, Ned was finished up, too. Like Tad, his build was notably impressive. Not crazy-tall, but housing plenty of muscle. Out of the four of them, he came in third, benching a whopping one ninety. Which, for that five-foot-ten master punk, was exceptionally commendable.

Jay stepped back from spotting him, grabbed a towel and wound it tight, then feistily snapped it into Tad’s side.

CRACK!

Tad jerked from his reverie.

“Whatchu grinning for?” Jay drawled.

Tad grinned and returned the gesture. “Was wondering if you or your spotter over there are ever gonna break two hundred.”

Breck smirked.

Jay scoffed. “One eighty’s no chump change, brah. Besides, perfection takes time.”

“How much time?” Breck chimed in. “Jesus. It’s been two years.”

Tad laughed. “I think with Jayman, time is relative.”

Jay balked. “I’ll show you relative.” He snapped Tad again. “You butt munchers are all talk when we’re up here lifting. Funny how I don’t hear a peep from anyone when we’re downstairs swimming laps.”

Breck rolled his eyes, lips curving, but held his tongue. Couldn’t exactly argue. Where anything related to water was concerned, Jay was the shit. Hell, he’d made it to the championship for surfing. Breck may rule the basketball court, but Jay was most definitely king of the sea.

Tad didn’t bother arguing his claim, either. Just yanked the curly-haired dolt into a headlock and knuckled his scalp. “Touché, Ariel. Maybe we should be calling you tadpole.”

“Shit,” Jay laughed, shoving him off. “I’m a great white, bitch.” He grabbed his junk. “So suck my great-white dick.”

Ned howled in laughter.

Breck grinned and stood up. “More like a great-white pain in my ass.”

“That’s right,” Jay proudly agreed, lifting his chin. “And I take great pride in that shit.”

He did, too. Wasn’t kidding. Jay was annoying like that.

Breck glanced at Ned as the four of them ambled their way back toward the showers. He was eyeing someone on the other side of the room. Breck followed his gaze, pinpointing the object of his attention.

A girl.

No big surprise.

Ned was obsessed with the ladies.

Thing was, she didn’t look even remotely his type. Ned liked them petite. And curvy. With racks, and hair to their asses. Aka bombshells. This chick, though? She was lean, with barely a handful of boobs. Sporting a mane, no less, that barely reached down past her shoulders. Light brown tresses, wavy and streaked by the sun. No salon trips for this one. She was au natural.

Yet, Ned was staring.

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