My player boss

The sharp blow of coach’s whistle rings through the air, signaling the end of practice. It takes me only two seconds to claw off the T-shirt that’s clinging to my body, drenched in sweat. Of course coach would put me on shirts the hottest day of the year.

Running off to the sidelines of the football field, I instantly find my water bottle and take a few swigs, dumping the rest of the water over my head and letting it run down my trained body to try to cool down.

« Good job today, Bronx, » coach says as he walks by, clapping a hand over the top of my back, right over my tattoo.

Splayed across my back in black ink, shoulder blade to shoulder blade, is the word UNKNOWN in big, bold letters. While Miller is the name stitched into the back of my jersey, I feel like it’s not my real last name. That it doesn’t fit.

My mother got knocked up when she was a teen and doesn’t know who my father is. She was either too high or drunk to recall who she hooked up with at some random party so I have no clue who my father is, leaving me to settle for her last name and wonder about this whole other unknown variable of my life. It’s not that I expect my biological father to be a standup guy, given my mother’s track record, but it would have been nice to know.

« Damn, man. Adrianna really did a number on you, » I hear my best friend and roommate, Chase, laugh.

He comes running up next to me on the sidelines, bending down to grab his water bottle, guzzling it down. Out of breath, he grabs a towel to wipe the sweat running down his face and body. Lucky bastard got to be on skins today.

« Did she break off all her nails ? » he asks with humor, amusement dancing in his eyes as he rubs the towel over his sweaty light blonde hair.

I furrow my brows, momentarily confused, until I realize he’s talking about my back. That would explain why it stings so bad, all the sweat seeping into the cuts from her nails digging into my back last night.

I can’t help the smug smile that tugs at my lips. « Maybe, » I quip back.

He lets out a booming laugh, wrapping the towel around the back of his neck. « It’s not even the first day of classes and you two are already going at each other like that ? » He shakes his head, an incredulous grin on his face as he gestures to my marked up back. « It’s going to be a long semester for you, man. Maybe she’ll actually lock you down before graduation, » he teases.

« She wishes. »

If there’s one thing everyone on this campus knows, it’s that Bronx Miller doesn’t date. Ever. I don’t even take girls back to my own room so they don’t get any ideas—or stay. I go to their place or wherever is convenient, we have some fun, and then I leave. When the deed is done, it’s just that. Done.

Some girls are reoccurrences, especially Adrianna. But that doesn’t mean anything other than that they’re a fun time. Adrianna doesn’t seem to comprehend that, though.

Adrianna has been after me since freshman year when we met at an opening weekend party. A raven haired, emerald green eyed beauty with a curvy body that could rock any man’s world, and as captain of the dance team, it’s no wonder why she’s at the very top of the food chain at this school. It’s also no wonder why she’s my most frequent reoccurrence, either. Adrianna is the hottest girl on campus and she knows it.

As head of the dance team and the school’s quarterback, we would make the perfect cliché college couple. If people didn’t know any better about my reputation, they would think Adrianna and I were a couple because of how much time we spend together. Again, she’s just my most frequent reoccurrence. Nothing more.

Adrianna has always wanted more from me, though. She’s always wanted to put an exclusive label on us and feed into the cliché fantasy of the quarterback dating the captain of the dance team. From the beginning, I told her I wanted no strings attached. I’m not looking for anything serious. These are my golden years, and I plan to have all the fun I can before the NFL calls my name.

Football has been a passion of mine since I was a kid. It started out as a hobby my mom forced me into so she could get me out of the house to get high or god knows what else. Then, I started taking it seriously, hoping some of the skills could help me ward off some of the junkie and abusive boyfriends she brought home. By the time high school rolled around, I was skillfully trained in the sport.

In a way, football saved my life. Literally. Aside from making me physically stronger, football gave me a future I wouldn’t have had otherwise. Through the sport, I was able to go to college, something I never thought I’d be able to do as a kid.

Growing up, I never thought I’d amount to anything. I always thought I’d end up like my mother, a lowlife living in an abandoned house without more than forty dollars to my name at a time—or dead in a ditch somewhere before I even surpassed my teens.

Thankfully, I found sanctuary in football instead of drugs. By my senior year of high school, I had college recruiters coming to my games frequently, offering me full ride scholarships because of how well I could play. Lord knows I could never make it into college solely because of my grades. That’s how I ended up here.

I’m in my senior year of college now, and I haven’t slowed down with football one bit. I’m training harder than ever to secure my path to the NFL, recruiters keeping a sharp eye on me. My goal is to get drafted by a professional team after graduation.

« You going to the party tonight ? » Chase asks as we head to the locker room, referring to the annual bash thrown by one of the biggest frats the weekend right before classes start.

« What do I look like, a saint ? Hell yeah, I’m going. »

Chase cuts the engine of his truck and the both of us jump out. The streets are lined with cars, causing us to park a few blocks away from the party. Even from here we can hear the thumping of the music from the frat house, the party in full swing.

Eventually, we make it to the large house and walk up the steps that are littered with people trying to get in. The house is jam packed with people almost shoulder to shoulder, even with a number of people occupying the front and back yard. After fighting our way through the front door, Chase and I make our way to the kitchen after being intercepted by a handful of people wanting to stop us to chat, and we grab two beers that are poured into red solo cups lined up along the counter.

« Yo, Bronx ! » I hear someone yell, and I turn my head to see Brennen, the wide receiver from our team, waving me over. He’s hard to miss in his favorite olive green button up shirt that complements his dark skin and bright hazel eyes. He claims that shirt gets him laid more often than not.

Pushing through the crowd, I make my way to the dining room where the beer pong tables are lined up.

« Be my partner ? » Brennen asks with a hopeful smile, tilting his head towards the tables.

« Sure thing. » I down the beer in my cup, ready to play. « Who are we up against ? »

He jerks his chin towards two guys standing in the corner. One I recognize is from the baseball team and the other I don’t recall ever seeing before, but he’s a total preppy frat boy.

« At least give me a challenge, » I scoff, causing Brennen to laugh.

« That’s my boy ! Let’s do this, Miller. »

Not even ten minutes later, I send the ball flying, sinking it into the last cup, solidifying our win. Cheers ring out and Brennen claps me on the back before pumping his fists victoriously in the air.

« They don’t call you the beer pong champ for nothin’ ! » Brennen yells, excitedly shaking my shoulders.

He picks up two of the other teams remaining cups on our end of the table, handing one to me. He clinks his red solo cup to mine in cheers, tossing the alcohol back shortly after.

Just as the cup hits my lips, a small, delicate hand wraps around the plastic, fingers brushing mine, pulling it from my grasp.

I look down to see Adrianna with my cup in her hand, smirking devilishly over the rim before tossing back the liquid herself. Wolf whistles fill the air along with some hollers, Adrianna looking pleased with herself.

She’s in a skin tight, strapless black dress that leaves little to the imagination. Her heels are tall and strappy while her makeup is bold and edgy, her eyeshadow smoky and lips painted a dark red.

I grab her waist, pulling her flush against my body. « I believe that was my drink, » I say lowly, peering into her piercing green eyes.

« Oops. » She tries to feign innocence, biting her lower lip and batting her dark lashes. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispers huskily into my ear. « I can make it up to you later. »

I growl lowly, my fingers flexing into her skin possessively. « Or you can make it up to me now, » I challenge.

She grins. « Slow your roll, hot stuff. I just got here. At least get me another drink and dance with me first, » she says, already squirming out of my hold before grabbing my hand and leading me to the dance floor.

*

Adriana giggles against my lips, her fist wrapped around the front of my shirt as she pulls me blindly down the dorm hallways. I’m not entirely sure how we ended up here, all the way across campus from the party, but I do know what her intentions are.