The Best Defense: A Sports Romance

Devon

I stormed down the stairs of her house and out the door, the only thought in my fucking head is that I am a raging idiot. That was probably the most vulnerable she's been in a long time and I fucking ruined it by trying to do the right thing.

I call a cab and make it back to my place. I walk into the front door to find Matt trying to suck some girls lips off her face on the couch. Class act he is. I wonder where the Carter is while making my way up the stairs. The symphony of moans cascading from his room quickly answers my question. I'm irritated knowing I will have to listen to the bed frame hitting the wall I share with him. I don't usually get mad about it, but tonight it different. I just want to go to sleep.

I can't stop thinking about her and how much of a piece of shit I am. I know it was the right thing to do. She doesn't need the regret she would have had waking up in the morning. She was drunk, I knew better. That doesn't even take into account that I still don't know where she got that bruise from. Yet here I am feeling guilty.

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"Yo Taylor, what happened to you Saturday night?" Matt says, coming up beside me as we file out of the house to the car.

"Dipped out early, wasn't feeling it." I shrug. I avoided all the guys Sunday needing space to think, which only made me come to two conclusion. Am I an asshole? Yes. Is the situation salvageable? Debatable.

"Ya, and it had nothing to do with the tight little brunette you were glued to?" He waggling his brows at me.

I shove his shoulder, and he just laughs. Of course, they were going to chirp about that. We get into the SUV and I won't be able to escape any questions they will have, fucking vultures the lot of them.

"Hey, we all saw her. The boys wouldn't shut up about her, I think Carter blew a load in his pants just watching her." He claps his hand on my shoulder suddenly, making me feel dirty. It's not like we haven't talked like this about other girls, but when it comes to Tillie, my hackles start to go up.

I just clench my jaw, not responding. He backed off and we drove listening to whatever garbage is playing on the radio today.

I messed up, I should have stayed. She didn't even listen to me when I tried to explain why I stopped. It's not like she didn't feel incredible on top of me because she did. I know she felt my cock pressed against her. So attraction isn't the issue. I know how good it felt to have her hand gripping my hair, how smooth her skin was under my hands. Great now I'm rocking a mid. Fuck.

In any other situation like that I go through the motions, foreplay, sex, an orgasm or two for her, one for me. Wham bam thank you ma'am. Somethings wrong with me. For the first time I just wanted to talk to a girl, get to know her. Instead I hurt her, I saw the look in her eyes, the rejection she felt and I have no idea how to fix that. 

I don't know when it happened but suddenly I was geared up, walking out of the locker room towards the ice. Determined to have a decent practice.

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Coach Harris is punishing me. I know I slacked off in the game on Saturday, but we still won. It's not like I cost us the God damn game with my head focused on a certain drop dead gorgeous girl in the stands. Yet, here I am skating laps with the fucking parachute. I hate resistance training.

I hear the whistle blow and let out a loud sigh of relief. Thank fuck. If I had to do another lap I was going to skate right into the boards just to put myself put of my misery.

"Alright gentlemen, I think we got the idea. No more slacking off in games, either your head is in the game or don't bother getting on the ice." The words were said to all of us but they were aimed directly at me. Message received.