Dalt
“I’m already on Dak’s team,” Nikki informs me when we’re choosing teams. Dak gives me a one-shoulder shrug. He knows as well as I do he hadn’t picked her yet for his touch football team, but she’s determined to stay away from me so neither of us says anything.
Our teams are an interesting combination of hockey, soccer, football players, and a few figure skaters. Once we have the teams even, with both male and female participants, we decide my team will be the no-shirts, except for the girls, or none of these guys would be interested in playing football. Therefore, in the interest of healthy, outdoor, activity, which doesn’t involve distracting bare tits and uncomfortable hard-ons, the girls are going with sports tops. Dak’s team has on red pinnies we borrowed from the athletic department.
My first handoff is to Murphy, our football team’s star halfback, and he easily outmaneuvers everyone to run it in for a touchdown. Dak throws a long pass to Sanders, one of the football team’s wide receivers, and he takes it in to even up the score. It pretty much keeps going back and forth like this: some touchdowns, some fumbled passes, some interceptions.
When Dak fumbles the ball and one of the soccer girls on my team recovers it, I tease him. “Yo, Anderson. What’s up, dude? A little too much nookie fogging up your brain?”
Laughter, cheers, and wolf whistles ripple through the crowd. Dak runs across the field, dips Trace over his arm, and plants a big kiss on her lips. When he lets her up, they high-five each other. Those two never have any problem with their PDA. In fact, they’re totally proud of it. The thought plays over in my head that if I had been more open with Nikki, I wouldn’t have lost her. If she ever gives me another chance, I’m going to tell her a thousand times a day how much I love her and shower her with touching and kissing everywhere we go.
Dak laughs and taunts me right back. “Don’t hate me ‘cause you ain’t me, dude.”
Everyone’s laughing and having a great time, until Dak throws a pass to Nikki and some dirtbag football player on my team tackles her. They’re lying on the ground, Nik’s underneath him, and he’s fucking whispering in her ear.
“Stop it, Cliff. Get off me.” Nik giggles and gives him a little push. By the time I get over to them her slight push has become more like her hands running up and down his bare chest. “No. Not now.” She continues to giggle, while he’s still busy at her ear.
“It’s touch football asshole. Get the fuck off her!” I yell.
“Exactly what I’m doing, man.” The douchebag grins and runs one hand underneath Nik’s pinny. That’s it. I put my hand on his shoulder and yank him off her.
“What’s your problem, dickhead?” The guy jumps to his feet, plants his hands on my chest, and shoves me. I take a step backward, then I’m right back in his face. I’m going to break every bone in this asshole’s body!
“You’re my problem, shithead.” Before I know it, my fist is connecting with his jaw and he’s sprawled out on the ground, this time flat on his back.
“Dalt! What the hell are you doing, bro? He’s on your team!” Dak runs over and holds me back away from the asshat on the ground.
“I don’t give a fuck whose team he’s on. He shouldn’t be touching Nikki!” I want to add she’s mine but I don’t. When I look down, Nik is cradling the asshole’s head in her lap.
“Are you okay, Cliff?” she asks in this syrupy sweet concerned voice and my insides clench along with my fists. Then it occurs to me. His name is Cliff.
“This is the prick’s initial you have tattooed on your thigh?” I growl at her while trying to push out of Dak’s hold.
Nik looks up at me with fear in her eyes. “No, Dalt. It’s not…it’s…” she sputters.
Christ. Is she afraid of me now too, along with hating me? I wish I could climb inside her beautiful fucked up head to see what the hell’s going on.
“Fuck it. Let’s call it a day. I’ve had enough touch football with fucking soccer and football players.” I walk to the sidelines, pick my t-shirt up from the ground, and head to my car. Drained of all ability to hold myself up, I collapse behind the steering wheel and drop my head back onto the leather headrest of the brand-new Levante my dad had delivered to me a few months ago. A ridiculous car for a college student but nothing unusual for my calculating father.
What the actual fuck?
I mean, except for my conniving bastard father, I have a fairly good life. I had a decent childhood, at least while my mom was still around. After she died, my brother Garrett and I tried to make up for the loss of her love by always being there for each other. Material crap became the compensation for a father who gave zero fucks about his family. Still, I got into one of the best universities in the country where I was given the privilege of playing the best sport in the world. I’m healthy, wealthy, and by the response of the ladies to my dick, things in that department are pretty fucking awesome. So why am I keenly aware of the shrapnel-like pain stabbing inside my chest confirming there is indeed such a thing as a broken heart?
What am I going to do? I don’t just want Nikki, I need her like sunshine and air. Without her my so-called good life is desolate, uninhabitable.
I can’t even think about her with someone else, especially not some dickhole football player. I’ve been trying to ignore any signs of her being with other guys.
Fuckfuckfuck.
I just remembered I’m supposed to have dinner at Nik and Trace’s tonight. If she’s there with that dirtbag, I’m going to lose my shit.