Then I remember I kicked them off at the door. Horror floods me as I remember the rest of the night. The girl I brought home, the fact that I didn’t get her off, and the worst part? I fell asleep after promising to make it up to her.
A clank of a pan against a stove jerks me from my trip down nightmare lane. A different kind of fear creeps up my spine. The only kitchen appliance my roommates know how to use is the microwave. From the sounds and smell of it, my failed one-night stand is cooking breakfast and expecting some major post-coital bonding.
At least I remember her name. It’s Bryant, as in Bear Bryant, she informed me at the bar. She was a jock chaser—the type of girl that likes to sleep with D1 athletes solely because they’re D1 athletes. Before last night, I’d seen her around the practice facility and at the bar where the athletes hang out after a long day of drills.
I have no problem with groupies. I make regular use of them. Athletes and jersey chasers have a symbiotic relationship. If I wasn’t wearing the Southern U Renegades on my chest, these ladies wouldn’t give me the time of day. And with groupies, I don’t have to call them the next day. They know how the game is played.
Last night, Bryant turned her doe eyes in my direction and I figured, why not. I’d been a good boy for all of camp. No girls, head down, trying to fit in with my new team as best as possible. It’s not working. The timing with my star wide receiver and roommate, Carter, is still off.
In the huddle, their eyes are full of wariness and suspicion. Doesn’t matter how many plays I make during practice, I haven’t proven myself on the field and until I do, judgment is still pending. In one week, we play our first game, and if we don’t win the opener—I shove that out of my head. No fear. That’s the only mindset to have.
People accuse quarterbacks of being arrogant, but you have to be. If you don’t believe you’re a winner, neither will anyone on your team, and that sort of mentality can poison a whole season. I rotate my shoulder, reminding myself that my golden arm has already gotten me a full-ride scholarship, a national championship, and a boatload of prime pussy.
But the glory days are coming to an end. I run an option offense where my gut plays almost as big of a role as my arm. I know when to run and when to flip a hand-off. These skills serve me well in college, but pro teams want a pocket passer, so when college is over, I’ll be like my old man—hocking medical supplies to nurses and office managers while bragging about my good old days.
I might as well take advantage of all the women who throw themselves my way now. When Bryant came and sat next to me, all curves and welcoming smiles, I sat back and soaked up the attention.
The guys knew her. She was immediately accepted at our table, which confirmed my guess that she was a jock chaser, albeit a well-liked one. The kind who keeps her mouth shut but her legs open.
As the night wore on, all I could think of was one thing—how to get my dick inside her tight pussy. She was with me the whole way. Her hand was squeezing my dick the entire Uber ride from the bar to my apartment, and my fingers were wet from dipping inside of her panties.
Her mouth was eating mine as we stumbled into the apartment. I kissed her creamy thighs and then licked the seam between those thighs until her nails were digging into my scalp. She urged me into the bedroom and had a condom around my dick faster than I could say her strange name.
But ten minutes into it and then fifteen minutes into it, I knew that she was on the verge of faking it. I pulled out. She put up a cursory protest. One thing about these southerners, they smile even as they’re cursing you out. But I wasn’t about to force myself on anyone. Kicking her out after I failed to make her come didn’t feel right, either.
The guys probably like her more than they like me, so booting her out after I’d failed in bed wouldn’t generate anything but trouble. Instead, I turned on the television and figured I’d try again.
But I must’ve fallen asleep first.
Fuck.
And now she’s still here.
Double fuck.
I force my feet to move in the direction of the kitchen. This is part of my purgatory. I was banished from my previous school for fucking around with the coach’s daughter, and now I’m going to be branded as the guy who couldn’t even get a groupie off.
I walk slowly down the hall.
“You’re awake.” Bryant’s smile is bright enough to match the sun. I focus on a spot over her shoulder.
“You sleep well?” I ask inanely.
“Sure did. Hold on for a minute.” She scoops something I can’t see from a pan and turns her back.
Her blonde hair is caught in a low pony hanging over one shoulder. Bryant’s body is small and round all over—round tits, round ass, round thighs. She’s got a perfect, fuckable body.
My blood surges. I want another chance. I’m here. I might as well use the time wisely. I close the distance between us, vaguely registering the two pans on the stove, a few cooking utensils, a discarded bowl.
“I’ve got this ready for you.” She spins around, her tits brushing against my chest. Before I can dip my head to kiss her berry-red lips, she shoves a tinfoil-wrapped thing into my hand.
In the next moment, she’s got a palm on my back, urging me out into the hallway. “So I’ve got class this morning and then a practicum starting at one, but I want to go early to check out a few things. My afternoon’s full with some sorority things that you don’t want to hear about, so I’m thinking brunch.”