Page 11 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

“BITCH! Why is the Uber order holding you hostage?” Not a second later, here comes the blonde, green-blue-eyed girl, who’s been glued to my girl’s hip for the majority of her life.

She’s also a pain in my ass because it’s her life purpose to hate my fucking guts.

Stopping at Mickey’s side, she literally ignores my existence when her eyes land on Wyatt.

Then she’s blushing, wide eye surprised, and I just want to get the fuck out of here.

“H-Hey, Wyatt,” she declares, and all that cocky confidence she always throws out to every other man in existence deflates like a loose balloon.

“Hey, Xandra.”

The fucker is smiling. That specific smile he reserves for her. It would make any woman wet in seconds. If the cheer squads and teens who stalk our games saw him smile like that, they would die.

I didn’t agree to come congratulate Coach Cyrus only to deal with a reunion of exes.

“Where’s Coach Cyrus?” I abruptly ask. “I’m not here to waste time. We’re certainly not being paid to stand here, either.”

My words spark a fierce torpedo in my ex-best friend because she’s glaring at me with dangerous eyes that narrow brutally.

For my own safety, I know to step back.

Wyatt has even faster reflexes. He not only steps in my way but has this 5’5” woman up and over his shoulder in three seconds flat.

“And into the house we go,” Wyatt declares while the woman in his grasp is kicking and screaming. “GIVE ME TWO PUCKING MINUTES! That’s all I need! I trained all my life for this moment.”

I roll my eyes, which only makes her fume even more as Wyatt strolls in as if it’s his place.

He always got special privileges.

He and fucking Maddox.

I, on the other hand, always had to struggle to get alone time with Mikayla when we dated. Whether it was bad timing or her father always enjoyed the idea of coming home early before I could slip those panties off my girl’s thick thighs. We could never go the full mile here. We had a better chance of fucking in public.

Which is what we did.

Thrilling euphoria was a drug, but that would be hard to do now.

I’m going to be fucking famous.

No, I am famous. I’m just going to be more known and maybe then Mickey would want me back.

Then I’d play hard to get in comparison to her acting like a diamond in a coal mine.

I try to follow Wyatt, but there’s my petite girl in my way. She’s the same height as her bestie, which compared to my 6’1” forces me to always look down at her.

I like it.

Give me a bit of a bow-down complex and it reminds me of all the times I had her right where I wanted her.

On her knees, sucking me off.

Fuck.

She was good at that. I’ll give her that much.

“Not you,” she says in a not-so-sweet tone. “I don’t want you inside my home.”

Here we go.

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