Chapter 2

Milo

 

 

I could feel a dainty arm thrown across my chest but didn’t want to open my eyes. I’d been drunk last night, but not so drunk I couldn’t remember whose arm was on me. I should have known better. I should have pushed her away, but she was intent on me, and I was only a man after all. The woman was far too fine to simply ignore.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes and looked at the mass of messy blond hair fanned out around me. I managed to get out from under her and out of the bed without waking her. Standing beside the bed, I stared at her naked back and smiled.

Coach would kill me if he knew, but I had a feeling Little Miss Coach’s Daughter wasn’t going to tell, and I certainly wasn’t going to say anything. She had picked me. I knew that wasn’t an excuse that would hold any weight with the coach, but it was the truth. She wasn’t the first girl who had wanted to sleep with the star quarterback.

I pulled on a pair of shorts before gently touching her shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She moaned and rolled over, obviously a little disoriented. My eyes traveled down and stared at her beautiful breasts, now on full display. I considered myself a bit of a connoisseur when it came to tits. I estimated she was a B-cup, and hers were perfect for her lithe body. While I did appreciate some of the enhanced breasts I had the pleasure of seeing and touching, there was something about the natural look that really turned me on.

I closed my eyes now and willed my erection away. Not now. Not again. Not with the coach’s daughter. My college football career was over, but I still hadn’t been picked up by the pros yet. I needed Coach to back me up and push for me to get on a team. I couldn’t afford to have him on my bad side or working against me. I needed this career. It was all I had.

“Hey,” I said again, a little louder.

Her eyelashes fluttered, and her eyes popped open. Her deep blue eyes looked at me and I could see our night flooding back into her mind.

“Oh,” she murmured, pulling the sheet over her breasts.

“Listen, I have to get to the gym,” I said, not trying to be mean, but letting her know it was time for her to go.

She nodded.

“Of course, uh, can you hand me my clothes?”

I grinned. She was being modest for nothing. I had already seen her naked.

“Sure,” I said, turning towards the door where I remembered stripping them off of her.

Tossing the clothes at her, I turned around.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting back on the bed and putting on her shoes.

She stood and looked at me. I knew she was expecting something, but that wasn’t how I rolled. Last night had been a good fuck, nothing more.

I opened the door and looked at her, asking her to leave.

“I’ll see you around,” she mumbled, walking past me.

“Sure. Thanks for a good time,” I said with a wink.

She looked back at me, one lip curled in disgust before she fled down the hall. Hopefully it was early enough that everyone else would still be asleep. If anyone saw her leaving my room, I was screwed. This was a competitive sport. I knew there were guys on the team that would throw me under the bus if it meant me losing the support of Coach Summers.

This week was my last real shot at getting picked up by the pros. There had been a scandal, and a couple teams were left scrambling. Coach had arranged a scrimmage for some of us to showcase our skills for some scouts. I couldn’t afford to get put on the bench now.

If anyone saw her kissing me last night, I could play that off. Her leaving my room looking like a hot mess in the morning would not be so easy to explain. I shut the door and grabbed my gear so I could hit the gym. When I hadn’t gotten picked up by the pros right away, I had thought my career was over. It was the coach who told me not to give up. To keep working, getting better and stronger and wait for my chance. This was it.

“Let’s go, Pastek!” someone yelled from the other side of the door.

“I’m coming,” I hollered back, grabbing my wallet and heading out the door.

“We need to hire a maid,” one of the other guys who lived in the house complained.

The backup quarterback, John Dickson, laughed.

“There are plenty of ladies who would be willing to clean this place up. All we need to do is provide us and a little alcohol and they’ll be fighting to do our dirty work.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t say anything. The guy was a jackass and had been clamoring for my spot for two years. Now that I was graduating, it was his for the taking, but Coach had warned him he had to earn it. Dickson didn’t like that and felt it should be handed over. The guy was a douche. The only reason he lived here was because he was friends with one of the other guys. I personally would be very happy to get my own place. Living in a house with eight guys wasn’t pleasant. It was dirty, stinky and loud.

We filed into the gym where Coach Summers was waiting for us. I couldn’t look the man in the eye, convinced I had guilt written all over my face.

“Two hours, then I want every one of you on the field. I understand you boys had quite the shindig last night. I hope it was worth it because you’re gonna sweat buckets on that field today,” he said, walking around the gym. “This is your future. Not mine. I don’t give a shit if any of you gets picked up, but you will NOT embarrass me. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Coach!” we all yelled at the same time.

He nodded, looked at each of us and ordered the trainers to whip our sorry asses into shape. When he looked at me, I thought for sure he knew I had taken his daughter to bed last night. Thank God it was the end of the year. There was no way I could look at the man and not feel like crawling under a rock.

One of the trainers ordered me to follow him, and I dutifully followed.

“You’re stronger than you were,” he said, as he spotted me on the bench. “I think this is a good weight for you to stay at. You get too bulky and it’ll interfere with your speed and agility.”

I grunted in agreement, not feeling real chatty with two-hundred and fifty pounds hovering over my chest. I was just happy to be getting to work.

 

 

“That’s it. Everybody, grab your shake and get your asses out on the field!” the assistant coach shouted.

We all grabbed the protein shakes that had been set on the table for us and made our way out to the field. It was already warm and humid out. I loved Miami, but the damn humidity made practice with a hangover brutal.

As we passed Coach Summers and the various people who would be helping with the practice, I could see his lip curling in disgust.

“You guys reek! I might get drunk just smelling you all! Damn, boys!”

There were a lot of chuckles. No matter how often we had all been told the same thing since way back in high school, few of us actually listened. Maybe one day, but not likely. I didn’t drink the night before a game. Most of us didn’t, but practice in the off-season wasn’t nearly as important. So we thought.

The drills were grueling. As I sat on the bench, sucking down water, Coach Summers approached. I felt my guts twist in my stomach.

“What’s up, Coach?” I asked, as nonchalantly as I could.

“Rough night?” he asked.

 “Not really,” I replied, as I shook my head, “just have a lot on my mind.”

I wasn’t going to tell him it was his daughter that was preoccupying my thoughts. The past four years, we had all watched her grow up. I had always thought of her as mousy. She was tiny and quiet, and never really stood out. She was always by her daddy’s side, cheering on him and the team, but she rarely spoke to any of the players.

It was an unspoken rule that nobody messed with the coach’s daughter. Truth be told, I’d never had any interest in messing with her until last night when she burst out of that little shell she’d been hiding in for the past four years.

“You got a great opportunity coming. Don’t screw it up by letting your mind drift now. Focus, Milo. Focus on the goal. Do you want to make a career out of playing football?”

“Yes. Absolutely. It’s really all I’ve got planned. It’s not like I was an excellent student,” I admitted, a little ashamed.

He clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“I think you can do this. You have to set your mind to it. I’m not going to let you fail. When you first came to me all those years ago, I knew you were special. I knew you were going places.”

I smiled, thinking back on those days.

“Thank you for taking a chance on a wild foster kid, Coach. It means a lot to me.” I wanted this so bad. I wanted to make a difference. I had all these dreams of using my big fat NFL paycheck to support foster kids in any way I could. I wanted to be one of the success stories.

“This is your chance. Quit the damn partying and get your head in the game. Stop thinking about the boozing and women and think about your future. Don’t be so hung up on missing the first round of picks. This isn’t over,” he said, placing a hand on my padded thigh.

“Thank you for believing in me.”

“Hell, kid. If you look good, I look good. I need one of you dipshits to make the NFL so I can make it into the big leagues myself,” he teased.

I laughed and nodded my head.

“I want to do that for you. I really do. I’m going to put it all out on the field next week. I promise you, I’ll make you proud, even if I don’t get picked up.”

He stood up and looked down at me with what I imagined was fatherly pride. I had never known that look. Coach had been the closest thing to a father figure in my life, and I truly didn’t want to disappoint him. That meant no more messing around with his daughter. I couldn’t do that to him.

“Get out there and show those guys what a real quarterback looks like,” he ordered.

Dropping my water bottle, I jumped off the bench, grabbed my helmet and ran back onto the field. I felt inspired, and I wanted to show him I was worth his effort. I could do this.