two would meet in a couple of weeks at the finals to determine the league champion. The ALAs had won the previous year, so everyone expected a hella lot from us, and every team was gunning for us. Shit, I wish I cared about flag half as much this year as I had last year. Last year, we’d been lit. Now I just felt smoked.
The door to the locker room opened. I tried really hard not to look. No such luck.
Sean glanced around for a locker. Even though the locker room was built for regular football, there were four flag teams sharing it at the moment, and it was sardine-city. But I’d shoved my stuff over on the bench in front of the locker beside me to hold a space. It was still open.
Sean nodded. “Is that one free?”
I gave him side-eye. “Well, it probably cost something to install, but you can still use it.”
For a second, he stared at me, and then he smiled, just a little, but he definitely turned his lips up, and it gave me a warm feeling in my chest.
He set his stuff next to mine on the bench. While most of us had put on our uniforms at the hotel that morning—tights under shorts and long-sleeved shirts in our fraternity colors of gold and blue—Sean was in street clothes. He pulled off a tweed sports jacket and the T-shirt he had under it.
Wow. We’d only been working together a couple months, and he’d made so much progress. His natural slimness would never lend itself to big muscles, but his pecs were defined and nicely shaped. His formerly soft belly had hints of a six-pack from all the crunches I’d made him do. You couldn’t say I hadn’t made an impression on him. Hell, I’d given him his first blow job. Oxford-man could never take that away.
Sean glanced around and turned toward the lockers to slide off his jeans.
I tried so hard to keep my eyes to myself, but holy freaking hell, he dropped trou to reveal two perfect, bubbly, adorable, and absolutely bare ass cheeks framed by his jock. All that creamy white skin and a few interestingly placed freckles. Shit. I could feel my cock bounce. Look away. Look away. Couldn’t do it. He couldn’t see me, turned away like he was, so I stared so long without blinking, my eyeballs should have bled.
By the time he covered that perfect picture with his tights and shorts, I had a raging semi that was only not full wood because of massive deep breaths.
I smiled when he tied on his Nike cleats. He came off so cute and official. And, man, did his red hair look great with the blue-and-gold uniform. But as soon as he was dressed, he walked over and said something to Tray who nodded but frowned, and then Sean left the locker room.
A couple guys watched him go, looking worried. Tray raised his voice. “Sean’s got family here, so he’s going to talk to them. He’ll meet us in the tunnel.”
Rex snarked, “Somebody wants to see the Poin play? Damned gluttons for punishment.”
I wanted to defend Sean, but all I could think of was him out there talking to PhD Jeremiah. The guy would see how great Sean looked in his gear and be all swept away. Yeah, I’d like to sweep Oxford away—with a fucking streetsweeper.
I took a breath. Interesting. Maybe I’d gotten some of my fight back. I might be too “nice a guy” to be a mean middle linebacker in the NFL, but I’d fought for myself since I was little. I’d fought to learn in school when nobody expected me to be able to, I’d fought against the kids who called me loser for not having a mother, and I’d fought my father and the whole town to get to college and not give in to their low expectations of me. It sure felt a helluva lot better to fight than wimp out like squashed dog poop. Hell. If I was poop, then I wanted to get on everybody’s shoes, so they had to track me all over their fucking carpets.
I snorted. That’s what I’d call a crappy metaphor.
Ah, shit.
I might be laughing at myself, but as we gathered in the middle of the floor for a group cheer, some of my nausea was gone. Now my gut felt as tight as my jaw.
“Go ALA!”
Fucking right!
As we trooped down the hall and into the tunnel that led