Sorry, Mia, but as your once-almost-boyfriend, it’s my duty to threaten this dickhead.
I take the long hike across campus to the building with the pool. Once inside, I make a beeline toward the chlorine smell. I slam right into someone exiting.
Travis.
His stumbles back, his water bottle hitting the floor, but he rights himself just in time before he falls with it. Quickly, he bends to pick it up. When he stands back up, I crowd him, sniffing.
“You stink, douchebag.”
He stumbles back, away from me with eyes wide from fear, and then bolts out the side door. Fucking freak. Ignoring his weird ass, I stalk into the pool area. I march my angry ass over to where Ashton left his bag last time and plant my ass beside it. It reeks of chlorine, I think. I don’t know how he puts up with the god-awful smell all the time. My eyes drag along the pool like a net until I find him.
I hate that the asshole has to demand attention.
I further hate that I unwillingly give it to him.
Ashton glides through the water, faster and more furious than before. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ll admit, since the last time I watched him, I looked up swimmer videos. The only swimmer I’d ever heard of was Michael Phelps. Ashton makes that guy seem like a novice. He owns the pool like he’s Poseidon. All the other swimmers watch in awe as he does his thing.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
He swims with speed and grace and it’s fucking mesmerizing.
Finally, he climbs out and stands near the pool edge. His muscular body drips with pool water as he looks my way, cocking his head in confusion. I pin him with a hard, challenging glare.
He begins sauntering my way as he peels off his blue cap and goggles. His dark hair flops over one of his hazel eyes that gleam with wickedness. I hate that I once again have to scope out how he compares to me. My gaze roams down his chiseled abs, taking in the way his obliques flex with each step he takes. Today he’s wearing skintight red spandex shorts that leave very little to the imagination.
Swim team is basically eye porn for everyone else.
I jerk my gaze back up to his, finding his lips curled into a knowing smirk. It pisses me off. He tosses his cap and goggles into my lap.
“To cover up your hard-on,” he taunts.
“Fuck off,” I growl.
He smirks as he snatches up his towel and dries off. “Why are you here?”
“We need to talk.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Talk.” He drops the towel and grabs his water bottle. After he unscrews the cap and pulls it off, he lifts a brow. “Dude, stop staring at my junk and say what you need to say.”
My nostrils flare as I jump to my feet. He lifts his bottle to his lips. I smack it hard out of his hand, sending it flying to the ground.
“What the fuck?” he snarls, getting in my face. “Is this about Mia—”
“Not now.” I push past him to pick up the bottle. Bringing it to my nose, I inhale. “What the fuck?” Whirling around, I shove it in Ashton’s face. “Is that—”
“That fucking bastard,” Ashton hisses. “Bleach? Is he trying to kill me?”
My blood runs cold. Travis. I thought he smelled funny. Looked guilty as fuck, too.
“I’m going to beat that motherfucker’s ass,” I rumble, my hand curling into a fist.
Ashton shakes his head at me. “You can’t.”
He just tried to make him drink bleach! The hell I can’t.
Ashton snags his shit up and storms off to the locker room. I stalk after him, not ready to end this conversation about Travis. That guy needs to lay the fuck off. As soon as we’re in the locker room, Ashton starts stripping out of his red shorts, flashing me his toned ass. I cross my arms over my chest, refusing to leave.
He dresses in record speed, before turning to glower at me. “Enjoy your peep show, dude bro?”
“Nah, man,” I grind out. “I’d rather check out Drew’s ass.”
His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches.
“Now you’re thinking about it,” I taunt. “How you jacked each other off last weekend… How my fucking best friend’s tongue was down your throat.” I stride right up to him and poke his hard chest. “Drew told me every sordid detail. Best friends and all. Makes me wonder. Did you tell your best friend?”
“Back the fuck off me, Brayden, or so help me I will knock your ass on the ground.” His hazel eyes flash in warning.
“What’s wrong? Can’t have Mia find out you prefer dick over pussy?”
“I said back the fuck off.” His words are low and threatening. “Now.”
“You want to beat my ass for telling you the truth, but I’m not allowed to throat punch that pussy Travis for trying to poison you?”
What the hell is wrong with this guy?
“I’ll tell her,” he mutters.
“She knows.”
He lets out a murderous roar and shoves me with surprising force. I trip over his bag, landing hard on my ass. He pounces on me, his hands on my throat. I land a punch in his ribs, but he’s snarling like a fucking mountain lion. We grapple, each of us trying to get the upper hand until it happens.
We both freeze.
He’s hard. He’s fucking hard. But so am I.
“Told you,” I bite out, triumphant. “You can’t just turn off the fact you like dick.”
His hips flex as a hateful expression crosses over his features. “And what are you going to do when Mia finds out that your dick is a fan of dicks too?”
I let out a dark chuckle. “She already knows. Now get the fuck off me.”
“Or what? You’ll beat me up?” he taunts. “You gonna poke my eye out with your hard-on?”
Fucking asshole.
“You have to the count of three,” I warn. “One.”
His
