After being cheated on by their long-term partners, can a pro-wide receiver and a PR agent remain friends with benefits without falling for each other?
I've been in love with Ava since I was fifteen. She was my first, my only, my everything, destroy...
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"Good hustle, Allen." Coach Hartz's nod made the quivering in my calves bearable.
"Thank...you...sir." I gasped, bracing my knees. Sweat dribbled down my forehead in ticklish beads, matching a similar sensation sliding between my ass cheeks. Heat raised my core temperature to desolate desert status, but there was a swamp in my groin cup.
Size and speed here were next-level. The tall, lanky bodies I faced in college were replaced by bulked-up, adult-versions, sharpened with muscular definition. Millisecond reaction times forced me on point. A second or two behind were too slow. The adjustment was a constant flight-or-fight switch being on.
On-on-on.
Peeling off my sweat-soaked compression gear, I hopped on a bike to cool off. Lightning and Cole filmed some overly personal tour of their locker spaces, arguing over whose smelled worse. Spoiler: Oren's smelled like salty, musky ass sweat. While he was the fastest guy on the team, his ass and thigh cracks sweated like he sprung a leak.
Despite every fiber of my leg muscles screaming with each heel pump, today's workout expanded to the tight ends, runningbacks who doubled as wide receivers, and Seattle's massive O-lineman. Logan stretched my legs across the practice field, and the burn felt good. Satisfaction flowed through my pounding veins.
So many new names made my head swim, but today's first catch settled my nerves. Practice was fun and relaxed. Despite the stiffness of the professional environment, the receiver core worked cohesively.
"Love that deep burn." Dante dragged a towel across his slicked forehead. "Makes a man feel alive!"
Cohesive except for one.
Sharing airspace with this prick was almost as suffocating as Curry's wind sprints. His arrogant ego barely fit in the building. Logan overthrew his receptions, each toss a serving of humble pie, but Dante adjusted and popped celebratory poses to nonexistent fans and cameras.
What did a beautiful girl like Maya see in his over-hyped ass? All I saw was a classic asshole getting a girl he didn't deserve. He vocally pissed on her legs to claim his territory, but she never acknowledged his presence. Working her job, she maneuvered through the clusters of players' friends and families in attendance. Any idiot could see she wasn't here for him.
Ellie and Maya sitting together made me do a double-take. When I asked Ellie at dinner, to another rounding of smirking from Logan, she said Maya worked PR for the players' wives and girlfriends.
I'd gotten several team-related PR event invites—all charity-related, so no-brainers to agree to—but Ellie became a vault when I asked what WAG events were. Limelight was the last thing she wanted, and, given her past legal scandal, I couldn't blame her for hating press attention.
The introvert was happier curled up with a book and ignoring the world's existence. And my best friend's unusual silence seemed like he agreed.
What were those two hiding? It wouldn't be so suspicious if they weren't so obvious. Guilty looks, hushed, whispered conversations.
