The Jock by J.L. Beck Page 0,16
the vacuum out of my head.”
More laughter fills the space, but I don’t feel like joining in one bit. Especially not when Dale speaks again.
“Maybe think about the nerd sucking my dick instead, wouldn’t that be something?”
“Shut up,” I growl before I can stop myself.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Stop thinking about getting your dick wet and start thinking about winning the next game instead.”
“Calm your ball sack, it’s just practice today.” Dale rolls his eyes at me.
“Practice you desperately need. Now get your head in the game.”
Turning away from them, I put on the rest of my gear and try to ignore their whispering behind me.
“What was that all about?” Evan asks when it’s just him, me, and Murphy left in the room.
I slam the locker closed, maybe a bit harder than needed. “I’m tired of him fucking around and distracting everybody,” I half lie. I am a little annoyed by Dale, but I really don’t care that much about winning the game, not as much as I should for being the star linemen. “How do you know Blair anyway?”
“I have a class with her. Why are you being so territorial?”
Territorial? Jesus, I’m not being territorial, am I?
“I’m not. I’m just tired of hearing about it. Plus, I need her to fall for me. Can’t do that if I have other guys sniffing around her.”
“Got it. No sniffing around the nerd.” Evan nods while Murphy raises a single eyebrow at me. “Now, let’s go play some ball, boys.”
Finally, something we can agree on.
My shoulder aches and my knee pops with every step I take. This fucking sport is killing my body. Just thinking about the game this weekend is giving me a headache. At least my dad won’t be coming to the game. We’re playing an away game against Blackthorn Elite, and my father doesn’t have time to make the two-hour trip.
No, he’ll just watch the game and call me later with his complaints, scolding me, pointing out every single mistake.
As if he knows I’m thinking about him, my phone starts to ring, and Father flashes across the screen. I hit the green button and hold my cell to my ear.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Cage, did you go to practice?”
“Of course,” I say, trying not to show how annoyed I am.
“Good, getting ready for the game this weekend. You need to beat Blackthorn. This is a very important game, Son. I’ve spoken with your coach, and he said there are scouts coming. You need to win, show them why they should sign you.”
Every damn game is important to you.
“I know, Dad. We’ll win. We always do.”
“You better. This is your fucking chance to get into the NFL. You want to be a star player, boy? You want to make the big bucks doing what you love?”
What I love? Ha.
“Sure,” I say without thinking.
“Sure? Are you giving me an attitude? You ain’t too old for me to kick your ass.”
“Sorry, I was talking to someone else,” I lie, gritting my teeth.
“You better have been, I’ll drive down to North Woods and put you in your place, boy. You might be big, but the bigger they are, the harder they fall.”
I roll my eyes at the expression.
“Okay, Dad, I’ve got to go,” I say and hang up the phone before he can say goodbye.
Sometimes, I think he just calls because it’s a thing he should do, not because he actually cares. At least, not about me. He does care about football; he just doesn’t care about anything else. He never asks how I’m doing, or if I’m okay. Everything is about football.
In an even worse mood than before, I head to the library for my tutoring session. After the disaster from my first session, I make sure I get there ten minutes early today.
When I walk up to our session room’s closed door, I hear voices inside, letting me know she is already here but tutoring someone else. Leaning against the wall adjacent to the door, I wait for them to get done.
Just when I think I can’t get any more annoyed, I hear the other person–who is clearly a guy–say something to make Blair laugh so loud she snorts.
What the hell is so funny, and who snorts while they laugh?
Constantly checking my phone, I wait until it’s exactly five o’clock. As soon as I see the five and two zeros light up my screen, I open the door and walk into the room without knocking.
Blair jumps out of her chair, a loud, high-pitched scream ripping