Following Iris’s juicy ass around this house damn near killed my leg, but I had to grin and bear it. Not a chance I'd opt to skip the tour on account of my achy knee. She'd probably gloat her head off if she knew just how much agony I'm in.
My bulging muscles and winning smile may work on the average red-blooded female of our species but Iris doesn't like me. She never has.
We both grew up in Crescent Harbor but since we went to different high schools, I didn’t know her all that well before Penn State. Back when we were all in college together, she was this uptight pris, always looking down on me. From the very start, she acted like this superior being and had this innate ability to make me feel like scum.
I learned to keep my distance from her. While I could never figure out what exactly was stuck up her prim and proper ass, it was abundantly clear she never wanted me around her, and eventually the feeling became mutual.
When Kirk and I hung out, I often made sure it was a guy thing, so he wouldn’t be pressured to invite his girlfriend. A dick move? Maybe. But at that age, nothing was more important than football and my boys.
Yet, even through the fog of my testosterone-riddled college brain, I could admit to myself that Kirk was a shit boyfriend. It never bothered him to ditch his girl. He was always down to party, always hitting me up and making plans with our teammates.
Sure, I was doing the same thing, but I was single. I wasn’t the guy going out and flirting with other girls, while mine was sitting alone in her dorm room or studying in the library. Hell, most of the team assumed Kirk was single, playing the field like the rest of us and partying with the football groupies.
A woman like Iris Merlini deserved better.
She’s the total package. Smart. Beautiful. Ambitious. To be completely honest, if I’d been lucky enough to find a girlfriend like her in college, no one would have kept us apart. My idiot teammates would have needed a fucking crowbar to pry me off her side. And, I would have avoided a heap ton of the trouble I got into, that’s for sure.
I would never admit this to Kirk, but there were times that I was jealous of him. While I wasn’t really in the headspace to settle down at that age, it would have been nice to find a girl who was as faithful and reliable as Iris.
And beautiful. Fuck, is that annoying woman beautiful. Those diamond-blue eyes. The silky blonde hair. And curves galore, in all the right places.
But she was always so uptight. Apparently, she still is. And she takes herself too damn serious. That's why I couldn't resist the urge to get a rise out of her today with my smart-ass reminder that she used to be a bit uncoordinated. My comment was immature, though, and I should probably cut it out with the teasing if I don't want to find my butt sleeping on the curb.
Iris Merlini hates my guts. I would do well to remember that fact, and stay out of her way now.
Lying back on the too-small mattress, I twist my neck to take in my new surroundings. There’s not a whole lot in here, but it’s enough. A bed, a nightstand, a small dresser and a television.
I glance at my phone on the side table. I need to call Cannon and chew him a new asshole for flinging me to the wolves with Iris. I also need to call my parents and let them know I got to town because Ma’s probably worried about me. Instead, I dial Kirk.
It’s been a while since he and I linked up so I’m reaching out to go out for drinks now that I'm back in town. This conversation is gonna be awkward as hell since I’ll have to announce to him that I’m shacking up with his ex-wife. But no point in avoiding it. I’d rather just deal with this mess head-on. Especially since it’s only a matter of time until news about my new living arrangements makes it around town. I get my friend’s voicemail and leave him a short and simple message to call me back.
I force myself off the bed and unzip my duffel. I mindlessly shove my clothes into the empty drawers until I feel something cool and squishy at the bottom of my bag.
What the fuck?
I pull out a clear plastic eye mask filled with some sort of pale blue gel. This is most definitely not mine.
Hesitantly, I reach back into the bag, and find a fruity-smelling ball that leaves a bunch of powdery shit on my fingers. Then there’s a tube labelled ‘exfoliant’, a fancy soap bar, a bottle of nail polish, a loofah and one of those stone things they scrub your heels with at the spa.
I laugh out loud.
Those assholes…
After faking a smile for the past few weeks, the sound of genuine laughter is almost foreign to me.
My teammates may be a raging herd of buffalo on the field but at their core, they’re a bunch of sentimental softies.
There’s a glittery pink unicorn greeting card underneath all the spa stuff. I flip it open to find the squiggly handwritten notes of the guys.
Pamper yourself, Princess. You’ve earned it, is scrawled with Jason Bellino’s signature.
The game isn’t the same without you, reads the inscription from Knox O’Ryan.
Get well soon…But not too soon. That message is signed by Tim Fletcher, the team’s backup tight end who’s been getting field time since I’ve been benched.
I read the notes from the rest of the guys. Finally, I come upon the note from our team captain, Maxwell Masters. You were a unicorn player, Kingston. You leave big shoes to fill.
I read the team captain’s message again and again.
You were a unicorn player.
Were.
Past tense.
No future.
You’re done.
That’s the message
