Tired of the past always dictating my life.
This morning’s practice reflected just that. He was relentless, too. Riding my ass the whole time, bitching at me to skate harder, move faster, and pay attention. I’d wanted to kill him, but for the team, I managed to bite my tongue.
“You okay?” Finn asks, dragging me from my thoughts. “You kind of played like shit earlier.”
I flip him off. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“You know I love you,” he states, laughing. “Whatever it is, you gotta get over it, man. Do some fucking yoga or get laid.”
Thoughts of Mia come to mind, which has me smiling. “I’ll try.”
“The yoga or the sex?”
“Can’t it be both?” I playfully shoulder check Finn on my way out of the locker room. “See ya later.”
I’m rushing down the hallway to avoid a run-in with Drew when I do exactly that.
Run into him.
We both grunt in surprise, and I jolt back, hating the fire that’s once again burning angrily through me.
“Bray,” he starts, but I shake my head as I pass by him. “We need to talk eventually.”
“Talking with you always ends badly.”
His hand clasps over my shoulder, stopping me. “Please…”
“I’m late. Maybe later.”
He releases me without a word and I haul ass out of there. Rather than head out to the parking lot where I know other guys will already be hanging out, I take a different turn, winding my way through the athletic buildings. I’m about to turn around and head back the way I came when a guy enters through a side door.
A familiar guy.
Mia’s best friend.
There’s something about Ashton that rubs me. His maddening smirks. The arrogance that practically drips from him. All his snide-ass remarks.
And Mia? She just laughs.
When we’d all gone out last weekend after the game, I watched their interaction with jealous interest. There was a time Drew and I ribbed each other the way they did. Laughed at each other’s jokes. Had whole conversations with just our eyes.
The way he stared at her…
I know he’s gay, but that night I caught him staring at her like he fucking forgot that fact.
He’s wearing a thin zip-up hoodie and stops just inside the door to dust snow out of his hair. His bag starts to slide off his shoulder. With a grunt, he pulls it back up and then strolls over to another doorway.
I don’t know what compels me to follow him, but I do.
Every time I’ve seen him, he acts like he doesn’t give two shits about anything or anyone but Mia. I haven’t really seen him without her company.
I’m surprised to see him enter an Olympic-sized indoor pool area. He drops his bag onto the bleachers near one end of the pool. I walk along the perimeter of the pool that’s already splashing with swimmers, and make my way closer. He kicks off his Doc Martens and then unzips his hoodie. In a way, I feel like a creep watching him, but I’m curious about what makes him so special. Mia clearly adores him.
Someone calls out to him from the water and he gives them one of his douche-y head nods like he’s the coolest motherfucker at this school, and then peels off his jacket. After he tosses it, he reaches behind his head to grab the fabric of his T-shirt.
I stand there just watching.
Knowing he’s undressing to swim.
Waiting to…
Compare myself to him?
I’m not sure.
He bends slightly as he peels off his T-shirt, revealing hard back muscles. His pants are hanging off his waist just low enough I get a glimpse of a hint of his ass crack. With a swift flick of his wrist, he undoes his belt and sends his jeans to the ground.
Tight ass blue fuckin’ spandex shorts.
I’m about to bust my ass up laughing, but then he turns to the side as he pulls off his socks, revealing a form that’s not all that funny. Instead, I’m impressed. His legs are long and lean, but his upper body is cut with muscle, especially his upper back and shoulders. How did I not realize this guy was an athlete? He looks like your typical stoner metal-head weirdo who apparently moonlights as an underwear model.
Once he’s shoved all his clothes into his bag, he rolls his head on his shoulders. I set my own bag down on a bench and sit so I can watch him. It’s probably best I leave, but I’m too invested now. I want to see him swim.
He grabs a white swim cap from the zipper of his bag and then folds the edges back. His biceps flex as he pulls it over his forehead and then begins peeling it down over his hair. He makes quick work of stuffing any stray hairs beneath the latex. After grabbing a pair of goggles, he tugs those into place and then starts to stretch.
It’s fascinating watching him.
I’ve never given two shits about swimming.
But as he bends and swivels and stretches his long limbs, I grow more curious about his abilities. I wonder what sort of stroke he normally swims. I wonder a whole lot about this guy who gets on my nerves.
My eyes do skim over his dick, because it’s almost like he’s putting his junk out there on display wearing that shit. He’s packing, much to my surprise.
“Carter, you going to be at the meet?” some dude calls out from the water.
Ashton’s shoulders tense and then he gives that dude a cocky grin. “Yeah, man. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Right on,” the dude says.
Ashton spends the next few minutes bouncing on his feet and shaking out his arms. Then, he shakes out his shoulders. I’m given no warning for what happens next. He hops onto a small black platform, bends over, then dives in.
And just like that, the place goes quiet as they watch him.
I can see why, too.
He’s a fucking dolphin or some shit.
When he resurfaces a quarter of the way down, he comes out of the
