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Chapter Three

Koda

I gaze at the ceiling lost in thought. I’m perturbed, but when am I not? The first game of the season is around the corner, and it always makes me fucking tense. It doesn’t help that Alexi has been playing games with that stupid bitch who is apparently in his class. He loves a challenge, and she is one.

A choking sound comes from below. I remember what she said about Stephanie pretending to choke on my dick, and I’m immediately aggravated. I reach down and shove Stephanie off. She falls back onto her ass. There’s no way I’m going to come. Her head is sub-par, and when she’s drunk it gets even worse.

I tuck my dick back into my jeans. “Forget it.”

“But you didn’t finish.” Her wide mud-brown eyes are glazed over with alcohol.

“I’m not in the mood.”

“But you—”

“I said I’m not in the mood,” I growl, glaring at her.

“Okay,” she says slowly. “Then what do you want to do?”

“Nothing. I want you to leave.”

She stands, struggling in her heels like a baby gazelle. Her hands run up my thighs pissing me off. I don’t like it when she touches me. It’s why I won’t fuck her. It’s why I won’t fuck any of them.

“We could do something else?” she says suggestively, biting her pouty lip that's painted deep red. It doesn’t look good on her.

“I’m good.”

She stamps her foot and shoves her hand onto her hip. “You called me over here, Koda. I’m horny. I want to have sex.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” I sit back on the couch, grab the gaming controller, and turn the console on. She steps in front of the screen.

“We’ve been doing this for a while now." She gestures between us. “I just—”

She needs to get the fuck out before I lose my temper. “What is it that you think we’re doing?”

“I mean. You call me over here.”

“Yeah, to suck my dick. Fucking move.”

“Come on, Koda. It’s more than that.”

God, I hate women. They always want to talk or some shit. Everything means something even when you tell them it doesn’t.

“It’s not,” I deadpan. “If you’re gonna keep this shit up I’ll just call Heather instead.”

“She doesn’t suck dick as good as I do.” Stephanie crosses her arms. “Or else she would be here.”

“You were available." It’s definitely not the head.

“When are you going to admit that we’re dating?” she whines.

I carefully set the controller onto the coffee table and stand up. Taking her hands in mine, I look her in the eyes. “I want you to listen to me, Stephanie. I would never, ever date you. Your voice is annoying. It’s why I always shove my dick in your mouth, because I want you to shut the fuck up. Leave my condo and go fuck one of the other forty-three guys on the team that you already do. Understood?”

Tears fill the brim of her lower lashes that are caked with mascara. “You’re so mean.” She snatches her purse off of the marble counter and storms out.

“Damn.” Alexi strides out of the hallway.

“Can’t you stay at your own fucking place?” I sneer, tossing myself back down onto the couch.

“And miss that? No way,” he chuckles, grabbing a piece of pizza from the box and smashing it down. He comes and sits down next to me, typing away on his phone. He throws his head back and starts laughing to himself.

“What’s so funny?”

“Ashland,” he groans, throwing his phone onto the table.

I roll my eyes already tired of this shit. All day he has non-stop talked about the bitch from brunch, who is apparently in his class about ancient shit. I thought he’d finally gotten over it, but then we saw her at the goddamn pizza place and it was right back to where we started.

“What about her?”

He drags his hands over his face. “It’s not her number.”

“You grabbed her phone and text yourself. How is it not her number?”

“It’s some dude named Cole. Gave me a full written out apology and said she has his phone most of the time cause hers is always dead. It was so concise that he must have copied and fucking pasted it from his notes.”

That shit actually makes me chuckle.

“Ha. Ha." He picks up a controller. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll see her next Thursday in class.”

I cast him a sidelong glance. “You’re wasting your time.”

“You gotta admit she’s, like, one of the hottest girls you’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, and a self-proclaimed slut. I literally ran into her while she was leaving a frat house this morning.” I remember her curvy little body slamming into me. I had been in full running mode, lost in the music blaring from my earbuds. She smelled like blackberries and alcohol with a hint of something sweet. “She definitely wasn’t sober.”

“What frat?”

I stretch, analyzing the score at the end of the game. “Sig Ep.”

“Pft. I’m way hotter than any of those guys and have way more charisma.”

“She’s not even your type.”

“Mentally ill is my type." He grins. “Come on. You can’t possibly tell me that you wouldn’t bang her. The pink hair. The tattoos. Don’t get me started on the piercings. I wonder where else she’s got them.”

True, she has all of those things. What he doesn’t mention is her eyes. That’s the part of her that sticks out to me. She’s got teal eyes like deep water in the Caribbean. They’re full of fire. Not to mention her mouth. Sarcasm bleeds from her tongue. She’s quick, almost like she’s formulated her response minutes before you even know what you’re going to say. She’s the kind of girl who toys with you because she knows she can. I didn’t understand what she was even doing at Sunny’s with that plain guy who looks like he belongs in business school.

“You need to get your head straight and stop being such a play boy. It’s going to be a big season. We need to focus,” I urge him.

“Do you always have to have such a stick up your ass? You sound just like dad.”

I bristle at his comment. Our adopted father is a senator. Alexi has taken advantage of it, while I have always tried to prove myself. It’s not that I’m close with him or that I care what he thinks, but he taught me to earn things. If you want something you’re supposed to full force go for it. That’s how you get it. Alexi used to argue with him a lot. They’re not each other’s favorite. Holidays can be brutal. It’s like Alexi doesn’t give a fuck that they adopted us and kept us out of foster care. He’s my brother and my best friend, but it doesn’t mean that I agree with how he handles things.

“It’s your career on the line,” I remind him.

“Just worry about yourself, bro. As long as I don’t get in legal trouble my career is just fine. We both broke records last year without even trying. I’m tired of the groupies with overused pussy and too much ball fondling. I mean, Jesus, you don’t need to grip them to make it work.”

He’s got a point. “This girl isn’t interested in you. How do you expect to change that?”

“I’m gonna invite her to the football party next Friday.”

“And you think she’s gonna come?”

“Fuck this team man. Cheaters." He shrugs, tossing the controller to the side when he loses. "At the very least I think she’ll come for the free booze.”

“Whatever you do, keep her far the fuck away from me.”

Sometimes I like to sit out on the quad after a good run, especially when it’s still warm out. There’s always a breeze and people going to and from classes in their own worlds at this time of the day. In two years I’ll leave this place. Sure, I’ll come back to visit my alma mater. It’s just what the pros do. They donate money and make appearances, becoming the pride and joy of their university. I’ve been preparing to go pro my entire life.

Unlike Alexi, I don’t want any distractions while I’m here. I never have. These girls are just chasing fame and fortune. They’re not wife material. I don’t want to date some girl who has seen every dick on campus. That’s never bothered Alexi. If anything, it attracts him more. He has a need for attention and when he doesn’t get it he does stupid shit, like obsess over the Ashland girl.

Unlike me, he’s all about a show. If girls come home with him he lets them down easy, which is just a nice way to say he strings them along. He’s had some real crazies because of it. One time a girl even faked a pregnancy, having some pregnant girl she found at a grocery store pee on a stick for a hundred dollars. You’d think after that he would have learned his lesson, but he never does. It just amps him up even more. He loves crazy. I just want peace.

I’ve thought about the future plenty. Someday I want to get married and have kids with a nice girl that has a bright smile. I want someone like our mom. She’s kind and caring. There wasn’t one time that she didn’t have our dad’s back, and she did it all herself. My future wife will love football and never miss a game. She’ll have a ton of fucking grace and be full of support. I don’t need some girl who gets sloppy drunk and accidentally shows her ass on ESPN. Alexi says it’s boring, but I disagree.

Someone rolls by me on the sidewalk on a board. There are signs everywhere saying not to do that in the quad. I hate disrespect. Low and behold, it’s Alexi’s muse. Her pink hair flutters in the wind while people jump out of her way telling her to watch where she’s going. She doesn’t pay them any attention.

She’s wearing baggy cargo pants that sit low on her wide hips and a crop top. You can see her pierced nipples poking through the cotton and the ones in her nose glitter in the sunlight. Her backpack is slung over her shoulder and her eyes are focused on a pad of paper in her hands, which are covered in what looks like dirt. Between her fingers charcoal glides across the page in sweeping motions. She pushes off of the ground, still not looking where she’s going, and bites her hooped lip rings in concentration.

Ashland leans too far to the left and rolls off into the grass, which throws her from the board. Instead of screaming, she just rolls onto her back and groans, not in pain but frustration. With her hands clenched at her sides she stares at the sky. After a few deep breaths, she sits up, searches through the grass for her charcoal, and snatches the sketch pad. She flips it a few times and sticks her pink tongue in the corner of her mouth in concentration. I can see that her elbows and forearms are scraped from the fall, even over her tattoos, which cover almost every inch of her arms.

Some of them are intricate and delicate and some are harsh and dark. Her left hand has ink across her knuckles and it creeps around into her palm. The girl is a walking canvas. I’ve always found tattoos so weird. People put something on their body that they can’t get rid of. They like putting them in places that everyone can see, but if you stare too long you’re the asshole. Don’t you dare ask what they mean because that’s a fucking cardinal sin.

The same guy from brunch walks up, and she rushes to put the sketch pad away.

“Drawing again?” he asks, stretching out next to her.

“I’m not. I was looking at something for Penny,” she lies. That’s fucking weird. I just saw her, and her hands are literally coated in black.

“Were you digging a grave?” he jokes.

She panics. “What? Why would you say that?”

He tilts his head in confusion and points. “Your hands?”

“Oh, I fell.”

“You’re gonna end up busting your head open someday,” he sighs, holding up a cup and a sandwich.

She wiggles her fingers. “Thank you,” she croons. “You’re my hero.”

“Mhm, remember that the next time you give some Chance my phone number.” He shoots her a glance.

This is the guy who text Alexi back last night. I noticed him at Late Night, but I didn’t put the pieces together. He was dressed more casually. He’s so put together and nice, whereas she is like a walking train wreck of anger. He has brown hair that’s swept across his brow and a university ball cap with sunglasses. She plucks them off of his face and puts them on. The guy doesn’t even protest. He just lets her do it. I’ve seen this type of shit before, and this guy definitely likes her.

She waves her hand dismissively. “He took the phone out of my hands and text himself. What was I supposed to do?”

“Let me guess. You just slipped and sent Ava a text, too?”

“Remember how endearing I am." She smiles sweetly.

“I don’t know if I would call it endearing." He sticks his tongue in his cheek trying to suppress a smile.

She gulps down the coffee. “So what happened with Stacy?”

“Ava?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably.

“Yeah, I mean you hardly text her back.” She takes a massive bite out of the sandwich.

He looks off to the side. “She’s just not my type.”

Yeah, cause his type is alternative girls with pink hair who talk shit.

“She has a great rack. She’s nice. She giggles when you do those stupid impressions. She’s perfect for you, Cole. She literally tells you good afternoon.”

“I don’t like Stacy, Ash,” he huffs.

Silence settles between them. The air is charged. With the way Ashland picks at the sandwich she knows this guy likes her.

She immediately changes the subject. “What time is it?”

He closes his eyes for a second, collecting himself, and then he pulls his phone out of his pocket and glances at it. “Ten. Come on. You have your class in fifteen minutes. I’ll walk you.”

This guy even knows her schedule? Jesus.

He helps her up, taking her bag. She steps onto the board and grabs onto his backpack. “Onward!”

He shakes his head but pulls her behind him while she laughs. This Cole guy is whipped. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen anything this severe. Like Alexi said, Ashland is hot, but her attitude drops her down a few notches. It doesn’t even seem like she cares. Probably because Cole is always hanging around. I take another drink of water and stand up. With my earbuds in, I turn on my workout playlist and continue my run in the opposite direction.

It doesn’t take more then ten minutes to get to the locker room. Alexi is already sitting at a table with his books spread around him. I take a seat across. “You’ll never guess who I saw on the quad.”

He doesn’t look up. “Who?”

“Your pink haired vixen." I lean back in my chair.

He squints at me. “No shit.”

“You’ve got competition. The guy who you text? Same guy from brunch. Cole is his name.”

He strokes his chin in thought. “I barely remember that guy.”

“Yeah, well, he’s definitely in love with her. Dude is beyond whipped. I’m talking, like, personal assistant whipped.”

“A small speed bump. She obviously doesn’t take him seriously, or she wouldn’t be stumbling out of frat houses on Thursday mornings.”

“What if that’s his frat?”

Alexi purses his lips and taps his finger on the table. “Good point. I’ll have to ask her.”

“When you finally get her attention, what are you going to do with it?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. She’s funny.”

I don’t like the way he says it. Alexi is an idiot, and even worse, he’s relentless. The more this girl pushes him away, the stronger he’s going to come onto her, which means he’ll be trying to bring her to every party. At this rate, he’ll be in love with her by the end of the semester and dragging her home for Christmas. I better not find her in my damn house.