Page 32 of The Game You Play (Rixon Raiders 2)

I hadn’t anticipated seeing her again tonight.

“There he is,” Grady called. “Get over here, Rocky Balboa, drinks are on the house.”

The whole place cheered causing Cam to duck his head.

Pussy.

He never did eat up the limelight like the rest of us, and now he was with Hailee, he was even more inclined to linger in the background. I’d always given him shit for it. Back when we were kids and people began to take notice, I couldn’t understand why he rarely lapped up the attention. But now I wondered if Cam was onto something. If maybe he knew all along that if you stayed in the limelight for too long, it would eventually burn your soul until there was nothing left but ash.

Cameron was sporting a nice shiner underneath his left eye. I had to give him props, I didn’t know he had it in him. Because what they said was true: girls really did make you crazy. And my best friend was two screws loose over my step-sister.

“Fee, baby, you came.”

“I... Hailee insisted.” She kept her eyes on Asher, refusing to look at me.

It shouldn’t have bothered me so much, but it did.

“Well, let’s get you ladies a drink.” He leaped up and slung his arm round her shoulders. I followed him up.

“I’ll be at the pool table.”

Hailee caught my eye, but I simply tipped my chin and kept on walking.

“Hey, Jase, good game tonight.” A petite blond sidled up to me, running her hands suggestively up my chest.

“Hey...”

“Marissa,” she purred, her eyes full of intention. “I’m on the swim team.

“You must love getting wet then,” one of the guys hollered. I glowered at him, dragging my eyes back to Marissa, expecting to see her mild disgust at his words. But in true jersey chaser fashion she batted her eyes, fingering the collar on my Henley.

“Oh, I love getting wet.” The words teased off her tongue slowly. “I don’t suppose you could help me out with that, could you?”

Marissa was hot. Tight body accentuated by the mini skirt and one size too small Raiders tank she wore. Bringing my thumb to my lip, I let my eyes drift down her curves. She was exactly my type. Slim. Athletic. And down for whatever. But something was missing. That something was currently giggling at Asher like he hung the fucking moon.

“Jason.” Marissa’s hand grazed my semi-interested dick, commanding my attention. “I said do you want to get out of here?”

“Maybe later. It’s still early.”

Rejection flashed in her eyes, but then her seductive smile slid back in place. “You know where to find me.” She flicked her head toward a group of girls.

“Yeah.” I grabbed my bottle of Bud and took a long pull.

“Jason Ford passing up fresh pussy?” Grady came up beside me. “Hell must have frozen over.”

“I’m not sure she could handle me.” I smirked.

“Oh shit, you’re bad, Cap. So fucking bad. But if you’re not gonna indulge, mind if I—”

“Be my guest, man.”

He slapped me on the back as he passed, making a beeline for Marissa and her carbon-copy swim team friends. He was quickly joined by Mackey and a couple of other rookies. They were worse than dogs in heat. Thank fuck I didn’t have to work for it. Being QB One meant something in Rixon; but being Jason Ford—son of local football hero Kent Ford—and QB One meant everything. Guys wanted to be me and girls wanted to screw me. Everyone wanted their fill. And until recently, I’d soaked it up. But when everyone wanted a piece of you, the chance to say they knew you... partied with you... fucked you... or even fought with you, there wasn’t much left to go around. It was a catch twenty-two, a rock and really fucking hard place. Because I loved the game, loved it more than anything in the world. Cut me open and I was pretty sure I’d bleed football. But it came at a price. One everyone thought they would happily pay until it’s your life. Until you don’t know who you can trust or who wants to use you as a steppingstone to their five minutes of small-town fame.

It’s why I’d hated Hailee so much when she’d first moved here. She was so judgmental, sweeping in with her holier-than-thou attitude, assuming she knew what I was like.

Who I was.

So I liked sex, but didn’t want to date or get tied down to one girl? The last thing I wanted was to put down roots here. Rixon was merely a steppingstone to bigger and better things. And I had one plan: to achieve what my old man couldn’t and get drafted to the NFL. An injury had ended his career in senior year of college. His dream might have gone up in smoke but his legacy lived on.