On the Sideline (BSU Football #3) - J.B. Salsbury Page 0,1

I can hardly stay upright without the assistance of the wall at my back. And is it just me or does that damn wall keep shifting.

Even as drunk as I am, there’s a sense of urgency that tells me to get home before I embarrass myself. None of my roommates are anywhere nearby, or maybe I’m just too drunk to pick them out of all the blurry faces. I hang my arm over Riley and whisper in her ear, “Hey.”

“Oh God,” she says, struggling under my weight. “You’re a mess.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” I try to shift a little off of her, but end up throwing myself in the opposite direction and stumbling. “I need to go home.”

Her pretty lips turn into a pout and I want to bite them so I make a chomping motion with my teeth and smirk.

“Wow, yeah you do.”

“I just need to call…” It takes me too long to fish my phone from my jeans pocket, and I flip it over, backwards and upside down waiting for the screen to light up. “What the hell…”

She takes it from me, looks at it, then hands it back with amusement in her eyes. “It's dead.”

“Shiiiiiiiit.” I drop my head back and immediately regret it when I have to throw my arms out to regain my equilibrium.

“Just go crash in my room for a couple hours. I’ll see if I can find any of your roommates.” She grabs me by the shoulders and guides me toward the stairs. “I’ll send them up to get you as soon as I find one.”

Sleep, yes. That’s all I need. A catnap to sober up. I take the bannister with two hands and pull myself up the stairs to the long hallway lined with doors on both sides. I remember which door is Riley’s, we’ve spent a few nights on her bed kissing until my lips would go numb.

I push into the dark room and feel around the wall for a light switch. Finding nothing, I say fuck it, pull my shirt off, toe-off my shoes, and strip out of my jeans. The edge of her mattress is easy to find and I drop face first onto the sweet smelling bedding before slipping away into oblivion.

Later on, without a clue to how much time has passed, I wake to the feeling of a soft touch on my thigh. I must not have been asleep for that long because I don’t question where I am or how I got here. I’m in Riley’s room and she must’ve come up from the party, seen me nearly naked on her bed, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to get her hands on me. Her touch has me smiling into the dark even though my eyes are still closed. My head is a little clearer, but I’m absolutely still very much drunk. We won’t go all the way when I’m not in full control of my faculties, but I don’t see anything wrong with letting her cop a feel. It feels so good as her delicate, exploring fingers slide up my inner thigh. “Mmm, that feels nice.”

Her hand freezes at the sound of my voice.

I blink open my eyes and find the room isn’t as dark as it once was. In the corner of the small room there’s a light—no, a glass box of some kind that is lit up. An aquarium? Terrarium. I don’t remember Riley having any pets.

I attempt to sit up.

“Don’t. Move.”

The authoritative voice that is laced with warning freezes me in place.

“Be very, very still,” the voice says, a little calmer now but still carrying a heavy sense of danger. “He won’t hurt you if you don’t scare him.”

I look toward the voice, but she’s hiding in the shadows. “Him?” I feel the lukewarm shape on my thigh and realize my mistake. It’s not a woman’s hand. “What is it?”

“Shhh, don’t even talk. I think…” She swallows thickly. “You’ll be okay. He’s hunting.”

“What for?”

“Food.”

A wheeking sound of terror escapes my lips.

“Don’t do that,” she hisses. “You sound like a wounded mouse. Now listen to me very carefully.”

I nod ever so slightly holding each and every muscle in my body perfectly still.

“He hasn’t been fed in ten days. He’s very hungry and probably willing to sink his fangs into anything with a pulse.”

I feel whatever it is moving again, sliding further up my thigh to the space between my hip and dick. My brain makes a quick assessment—terrarium, no legs, no fur…oh God. “S-s-snake,”