Twenty-One
Colton
While she couldn’t say that she was pledging Charter House, of course I had already known that’s what Eloise was doing.
It just so happened to work out in my favor that she was forced to openly admit her feelings for me, and that I could now hang the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend over our heads.
After I’d dragged her up to my room and used my tongue to write the alphabet over her clit, we’d laid in bed while Mountain Day had grown rowdier into the darkness outside.
“You know we don’t actually have to be a couple. It was a dare.” Eloise was all but confirming that she was pledging, which I knew was against the rules, but I wasn’t going to tell anyone.
“A dare that got me exactly what I wanted.” I nuzzle into her neck, wrapping my long limbs around her petite ones.
She hits me lightly on the right pec, her accent becoming even more crisp with a flare of temper. “I’m serious, Colton. Boyfriend? Girlfriend? We haven’t even spent that much time with each other.”
I shrug, tracing my fingers down the skin of her arms. “I know that, but honestly, I’m not interested in seeing anyone but you. I don’t want you to be doing this with anyone else. Titles are just that, titles. We can take it slow, but I don’t regret you asking me out there.”
“You’re just gloating that I asked you, you cheeky boy.”
I grin at her. “Maybe.”
And I’d meant it. Sure, it might be fast to put a label on things, but I’d been interested in her since the day I’d walked into that party in January. We’d talked, flirted, blown each other’s minds in bed … we knew we were compatible and that we enjoyed each other’s company. Who cared if we held the title, as long as it meant we were exclusive and I only got to spend time with her. The rest would figure itself out.
A niggling voice in the back of my brain told me to let her go, keep her out of my fucked-up web of lies. But every time I got around her, I ignored it, just digging myself a deeper hole.
“Black out Bigham!” Someone runs down the hall outside of my door, and I can’t help but whoop a celebration call back.
The Bigham game was the biggest game of the regular season. Our rival from across the valley, their college was a bunch of assholes, in my opinion. No-talent assclowns. I, along with the rest of my team, couldn’t wait to pummel them on the court.
Around campus, school colors had been flying all week. There had been donor parties and ceremonies honoring Jade Mountain players of the past. This was a huge week, and the parties after we won would be even more epic. I knew that Eloise had come to a couple games, but I couldn’t wait for her to feel the electricity running through the arena tonight.
My phone buzzes as I pack my gym bag, ready to head out for early warmups and dinner with the guys. It was tradition, a huge pasta bake in the gym before we spent four hours prepping and spending time together before the whistle blew.
Mac: You need to throw this game.
No. No. Fuck, no.
Colton: Not this one, the next one.
He had to know what the game tonight meant to the school. To my team.
Mac: No, this one. Odds are three to one in Jade Mountain’s favor. If I bet against you, I’ll win a shit ton. And so will my people. You throw this game, or I’ll come looking for my twenty grand.
Goddammit, I can’t …
I throw my water bottle against the dresser in my room, the cap cracking off and the empty plastic bottle rolling onto the floor. This game means more to this college than any other during the season. Sure, it won’t really matter much if we lose it, we’re still in the tournament and being seeded at number one by all of the major sports network. But we’re undefeated … we’ve worked so fucking hard for this.
And losing this game, to Bigham, will be devastating. It could change the attitude of the entire season. It could break people, not to mention I’d be really fucking pissed.
But what could I do? I’d taken that money, it was already half gone on mom’s treatments. If I didn’t do this, they’d … hell, I didn’t want to think about what they would do to me.
I don’t answer, and I’m sure he takes that as my complicit agreement. How the hell I’ll do this, I don’t know. I’m going to hell in a hand basket, and taking everyone with me.
* * *
I’ve played like shit.
Gotten fouled left and right, missed free throws, flopped, and missed easy passes to me from my teammates.
“Reiter, what the hell are you doing?!” Coach hurls at me, his face angry and red.
I run back down the court, trying to look disappointed in myself. I don’t really have to try though, I’m fucking mortified. We’re losing by twenty points in the second half, to Bigham. Bigham.
“Come on, man, look alive. What is up with you?” Larry runs by me, patting me on the ass.
I’m such a prick … a selfish asshole who doesn’t deserve to play on this team. I’ve let them down, I let me down.
I don’t even bother looking up into the stands, feeling the shame burning onto me from the thousands of eyes watching our downfall. Is she watching, embarrassed by my performance?
The only thing I want to do is get in the car with her and drive far away, bury myself inside her somewhere where no one else can hear us, see us.
The final seconds tick down on the clock, everyone besides me busting their asses to drive down the court, shoot baskets, kill themselves to try and pull this game out as a win for us.
And then the horn is sounding, signaling our downfall, our defeat. The crowd boos, and I know that somewhere up there, Mac is smiling a devilish, horrible grin.