SOPHIE BROOKS:
Party, hook-up, hangover, repeat.
I don't do rules, responsibility, or monogamy.
So when the chance to sleep with the hottest Olympian swimmer in the country presents itself, you can be damn sure I take it.
And sneak out before he wa...
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It's a good thing that I have Sunday off because once I wake up in Sophie's very comfortable bed the next morning, she unceremoniously kicks me out without even offering me breakfast, and I have to spend the rest of the day getting my energy up again after the three rounds of very vigorous sex we had throughout the night.
The last was after a few hours of sleep and took place in her very huge bathroom under her rain shower, and despite the scalding hot water - why do girls like it that hot? - pounding down on us throughout, I've never felt so dirty.
I'm not sure what it says about me that I'm an Olympian-level swimmer who trains several hours six days a week, but a night with an insatiable woman can tire me out completely.
Monday morning at practice, Davis is watching me with narrowed eyes as we get ready.
"What?" I ask, my gaze flickering to the two other guys, but they're not listening to us.
"You look happy..." Davis says slowly.
My mood was pretty good until now. "So?"
"It just seems weird," he comments suspiciously. I shove his shoulder with an eye roll, turning towards my locker and pulling off my shirt.
"What are those?" Mitch asks suddenly with a strangled laugh, grabbing Davis and Saltz's attention, and I feel all of their eyes burning into my back.
Or, more precisely, my neck.
"What," I ask dismissively, although I have an idea what he's referring to. I look over my shoulder, but they all move to the side so that they can get a closer look at the skin just below my hairline.
"It looks like you got in a fight with a jungle cat," Saltz says, snickering.
One of these days, I'm really going to drown him. Although he's not wrong. I tried getting a look at it in the mirror yesterday, and Sophie got me good.
I suppose she can be a bit of a wildcat.
"Who says I didn't," I murmur, trying to ignore them as I remove my pants.
"Did... Did Sophie leave those?" Davis's voice is a bit more careful than the others. I really wish she hadn't served herself on a silver platter for them because then the fact that these marks could possibly be a sex injury might not have occurred to my best friend this easily.
I could deny it, but to what use? Davis sees straight through me. "Yeah."
Saltz and Mitch break out into matching howling laughter, and Mitch claps me on the back, winking as he walks past me, making a meow sound.
Would it make me an Olympic traitor if I drowned him too?
Who knew that the eighteen-year-old Saltz and the twenty-five-year-old Mitch could look so similar when they called me every synonym for pussy-whipped out there as they head to the showers?
