Three and Out

  Pulling his shirt off and settling into a pair of shorts for the night, Ryker got ready for bed. They had a home game tomorrow and Ryker could really use some rest. Maybe he was an idiot for racing Mason, since he was going to be sore from not warming up beforehand, but pride got in the way.

  Overall, he had a good day, and even though Hannah’s face was floating around in his mind, he was able to push her aside and have a good time with friends.

  He still couldn’t believe he ran into her. Denver was a huge city; they shouldn’t have run into each other, right? He had to admit, she looked pretty good…like the angelic beauty he’d seen for the first time at Dick’s Last Chance. Damn, he missed that bar. Life was so simple a couple of months ago. Now he was flagged everywhere he went, thanks to the C.C. Morris campaign, and they hadn’t even used all of the pictures yet, so the fight against the crowds was only going to continue.

  Ryker was settling into bed when his phone chimed with a text message.

  Hannah: Hey Ryke, just wanted to make sure you got home okay, given your accident and everything.

  Damn her, Ryker thought, as he smiled to himself. He wanted to be mad at her; he needed to be mad at her. She didn’t trust him, she insulted him by comparing him to Todd, of all people; she compared him to tiny testicles Todd. What a douche; he didn’t know a good thing when he had it.

  Ryker flipped through his phone until he came to his pictures, he opened up a picture of him and Hannah at the bar. He took the picture one night when she was actually giving him the time of day and not pushing him away. He told her friends always took pictures together, so she obliged and took a picture with him. Smiling brightly at the camera, she easily showed off her beauty while he had his head turned, looking at her like she was the damn love of his life. He didn’t know why he tortured himself by looking at the picture occasionally; it was like he enjoyed twisting a knife into his gut. It was almost as painful, but there was no way he would ever delete the picture. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, so instead, he just stared at it and wondered what would have happened if Todd had never been in her life.

  Looking over her text again, he wondered why she was trying to reach out. Why now? It had been three months. Had enough time passed for her to have had a change of heart? Or was she just trying to reach out to be a friend? But, he shouldn’t care because she was the one that hurt him…that turned away from him. He should be wondering if he’d had a change of heart, not her.

  Running his hand over his phone, he realized that, even though she hurt him, terribly, he craved her. He wanted just a tiny piece of her, even if it was temporary or just as friends; he still needed a part of Hannah in his life, because no Hannah was fucking miserable. He typed a message back to her.

  Ryker: I made it home, thanks. Hope the peas didn’t set you back.

  She texted back almost instantaneously.

  Hannah: I wasn’t able to buy milk and eggs this week, but I will survive.

  Ryker: Those are some expensive peas…

  Hannah: They went up in price after the great Ryker Lewis touched them.

  Ryker quirked his eyebrow as he read her text message.

  Ryker: Are you trying to butter me up, Hannah?

  Hannah: Is it working?

  Fuck, it was, Ryker thought, as he texted back his response.

  Ryker: I think I will withhold that information for now.

  There was a pause in their texting as Ryker waited for her to message back. He was now lying down in his bed, on his side, staring at his phone like a prepubescent teenage girl. In the back of his head, he was telling himself to stop being a pussy and turn off his phone; he didn’t need her, but his heart was winning out right now. He just wanted a little taste, a little nibble of Hannah, and then he could go back to normal…not thinking about her.

  His phone chimed with a text notification, making him scramble to open up the message. He was so gone.

  Hannah: Ryker, this is not how I want to have this conversation, but you practically ran out of the grocery store, so I don’t think you want to talk to me, but I just have to say, I miss you and I’m sorry.

  “Fuck!” Ryker shouted, as he put his phone down and ran his hands down his face. He should have turned his phone off when he had the chance. He didn’t need this right now; he didn’t need Hannah fucking with his head right in the middle of the season, when he already had the stress of the clothing campaign gnawing away at him.

  He wasn’t ready to forgive Hannah, to let go, and maybe, possibly, dive back into his pursuit of Hannah’s hand. He didn’t think he was strong enough to go after such an endeavor. He wanted to, damn it, but he didn’t think he was strong enough. He’d already exhausted all of his energy three months ago; he didn’t think he had anything else left in him.

  Instead of texting back, he turned his light and phone off, and closed his eyes. He would sleep on it, no need to make any rash decisions right now. She could wait for him, just like he’d waited for her.

  **Mason**

  “Fuck, I’m fired up and ready to piss all over these cocksuckers,” Mason said, as he wrapped tape around his wrists to keep them sturdy.

  “What kind of range do you have with that fire hose down there?” Ryker asked, as he eyed Mason’s crotch.

  “Dude, fucking eyes up here,” Mason said, pointing to his eyes. “Damn, man!”

  Ryker laughed as he said, “Well…”

  “You know well and good what kind of range I get.”

  “I know, but fuck, can you tell the story again? I don’t think Jesse knows it.”

  “Knows what?” Jesse asked, as he sat down on the chair that was placed in front of his locker.

  “About the pissing contest Mason’s football team held in college.”

  Jesse stopped tying his cleat and looked up at both of them. “This is something I have to hear.”

  Rolling his eyes, Mason said, “In college, I played with a bunch of idiots and they thought it would be a great idea to drink as much beer as we could and then have our own pissing Super bowl. We drew a mini football field in the grass, probably seven feet long and eight feet wide, so multiple guys could piss at the same time, and we measured how far each guy could piss. We handed out awards for furthest stream, most accurate spray, hardest sprinkler and longest pisser.”

  Jesse threw his head back and laughed as Mason continued, “I was bound and determined to win, given my reputation, and the fact that I wanted to let it be known that I was the king of all dicks…”

  Jesse raised his eyebrows up at Mason, who shrugged his shoulders. “I was a total asswipe in college; I’m surprised I even made it through. Anyway, I drank a fucking twelve pack without pissing, and when the clock started and the whistle blew, I fucking took the mother fucking cake and cleaned house. I have never pissed so hard, so long, and so accurately in my life. It was as if the dick gods were shining down upon me and made my cock the epitome of all cocks for those three and a half glorious moments. I don’t even remember holding my dick up; it was guided by little phallic fairies as they peppered my cock with their penis pixie dust. From then on out, I was the king of all dicks.”

  Mason stared off into space as he relived one of the most shining moments of his college career.

  Slapping him in the stomach, Jesse got up and said, “No, man, you’re the king of all douchebags. Good story, though.” Jesse took off toward the stadium and said, “Let’s get em’, boys.”

  Ryker walked up next to Mason and said, “You’re still my dick king, man.”

  Punching Ryker in the stomach, Mason said, “Get out of here, you creep!”

  Game time.

  The crowd roared as the Stallions took the field. Smoke billowed out of the tunnel as music thumped through the speakers. Mason lived for this moment. When he was on the field, nothing could touch him. Not his shitty love life, which was non-existent, not the pain of knowing Piper was nowhere to be found, or the fact that, after the game, he would go home alone. He was really go
od at putting up a front when people were around, but when he was home, that was when he truly felt alone…when he truly sulked about what a shitty life he was leading.

  Going out to bars, hooking up with random girls, and living in a fog was all him overcompensating for not wanting to go home, to face that fact that, once again, he’d failed at keeping a girl, failed at letting her know that she was the most important person in his life, and that he would do anything for her.

  After the opening ceremonies and coin toss, Mason stood in position on the field as the opposing team got information to deliver the opening kick. Carefully, Mason watched the kicker run up to the football and pelt it across the field. The ball was kicked off directly in Mason’s direction. With finesse, Mason caught the ball and zig-zagged his way through the defense, bringing the ball to the forty yard line before he was tackled. The offensive line of the Stallions ran out to the field and patted Mason on the helmet as they huddled to receive the first play from Jesse.

  “Bootleg to the right and I’ll find you downfield, Dash. Got it?” Jesse asked, as he called out the play.

  The players nodded and clapped their hands together to break.

  Mason set himself up along the line as the opposing defense did the same. Jesse called out in his deep voice random numbers and colors, trying to throw the defense off with false snap calls. Once Jesse sounded off the third hut, the ball was snapped and Mason took off, running down the field. After he hit the thirty yard line, he switched gears and curled to the right, the same way Jesse was running. Mason lifted his head and found the ball was placed exactly where it needed to be by Jesse’s precise throwing.

  Catching the ball and cradling it into the crook of his arm, Mason turned toward the end zone at the same time the defender grabbed him from behind and another player tackled him from the side. The split tackle from both defenders twisted Mason’s body in an unnatural way, causing a loud pop to explode from his right knee that was bearing all his weight as he turned.

  Pain exploded through Mason’s leg as he fell to the ground with both defensive players falling on top of him.

  “Mother fucker!” Mason shouted, as he scrambled under the players. “Get the fuck off of me.” The anger and pain radiated from his face, indicating to the other players that he was hurt.

  Once they were off of him, Mason sat up and gripped his knee, knowing right then and there that his season was over. There was no doubt in his mind that he had just ripped every tendon in his knee.

  The Stallions’ medical team came running out on the field as Mason writhed in pain on the field with thousands of onlookers watching him go through one of the most painful injuries he had ever experienced.

  After a decent amount of time on the field, Mason was lifted onto a cart and driven off of the field as both teams and everyone in the stadium clapped for him. He didn’t want their praise, because he wasn’t walking off the field; he was being carried out, which is a player’s worst nightmare. He was taken to the medical room where they X-rayed his knee and put it through an MRI, followed up by the doctor wrapping up his knee and bracing it.

  Once the X-rays and pictures were analyzed, the team doctor came to the conclusion that Mason had torn both his ACL and MCL, closing down his season and setting him up for surgery in a week with an extensive rehab program once he was able to start moving around. He was fucked.

  He was completely toast for the rest of the season.

  **Jax**

  “Come in,” Jax called out, as the knock on his door rang through his office.

  Jesse walked in and sat down in the chair across from Jax. The look on his face gutted Jax, because he knew Jesse was blaming himself for what happened to Mason.

  Jax had watched the whole play in slow motion, and once he saw the other defender come in from the right, Jax knew Mason was cooked. Mason’s knee was locked and ready to turn when he got hit from both sides; there was no way he was getting out of the tackle unscathed. Jax just hoped, for the team’s sake, that the injury wasn’t going to be too terrible, but no such luck; Dash was out for the season, with a long road of recovery ahead of him.

  “I shouldn’t have thrown the ball. I saw the other tackle coming in, but I just assumed Mason would turn on his afterburners and blow right by them,” Jesse said, as he shook his head.

  Jax leaned forward on his forearms and said, “Jesse, you can’t blame yourself for this. Players get hurt all the time in this sport. The man was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He has a long road of recovery, but he’ll be starting next season.”

  “But he should be fucking playing this season.”

  Jax sat back in his chair, took off his hat, and ran his hand through his hair. “Believe me, I want Dash on the field more than anyone. He’s a leader and a damn fine receiver, but right now, we have to move forward and figure out how to connect you with one of your younger receivers.” Even though it pained Jax to say good things about Mason, he meant them. Losing Mason was a huge hit to the team, not just because of his talent, but because of the leadership he provided on and off the field.

  Jesse nodded his head as he blew out a loud breath. “I just keep replaying the route in my head over and over again. I should have gone to Ryker who was down field. I should have switched it up.”

  “Stop,” Jax said in a stern voice. “You can’t dwell on this, or it’s going to eat you alive on the field. Drop it and let it go. Don’t second guess yourself, because the minute you start doing that, you’re going to be the one being wheeled off the field. You have to listen to your instincts and keep moving forward. Do not think twice about your decisions; what’s done is done. You hear me?”

  “Yes, Coach,” Jesse said, as he got out of the chair.

  “Get some rest, Jesse. We have a long week of practice ahead of us.”

  Nodding and leaving the office, Jesse retreated back to the locker room…leaving Jax to himself, thinking about how he was going to continue their almost-perfect season without their star wide receiver.

  **Ashlin**

  She watched the game from her apartment, and the minute Mason was tackled, she knew it wasn’t good; then when the camera zoomed in on Jesse’s face, her heart broke in two for the man that was on her mind. The Stallions ended up losing, and Ashlin knew why; Jesse’s head wasn’t in the game after Mason was driven off the field.

  She didn’t know Jesse very well, but she did observe him when she watched the games, and after Mason was taken off the field, his whole demeanor changed from a confident quarterback to a hesitant one. His throws were not as accurate as they usually were, and his head hung low throughout the game, as if he kept playing the play that ended Mason’s season over and over in his head.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t have Jesse’s number; he only had hers, so she couldn’t call him. That meant one thing…she had to call Ryker, and she knew he was going to make a big deal out of her wanting Jesse’s number, but she was going to suck it up because she needed to know how he was doing.

  After their entirely too short kiss at his little gathering, she felt connected to him, and seeing him in pain, pained her. There was no denying the fact that she liked the guy, but was she ready for a relationship? Hell no, but that didn’t stop her from wanting some hot sex and making sure the man was okay.

  Pulling out her phone, she sent Ryker a quick text.

  Ashlin: Don’t give me crap, please send me Jesse’s phone number.

  Ryker’s text came back instantly.

  Ryker: Ooooh, Ashlin and Jesse are getting it on *pelvic thrust*

  Ashlin shook her head as she read Ryker’s text. The man was impossible.

  Ashlin: Just give me the damn number, asshole.

  Ryker: A little testy tonight. Is that why you need a little late night booty call?

  Ashlin: Next time I see you, your dick will be cut off and shoved down your throat.

  Ryker: Now, why would you do that to Russell? He had nothing to do with any of this.

  Ashlin: Losi
ng my patience very quickly.

  Ryker: I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were menstruating and couldn’t take a joke.

  Ashlin: That makes absolutely no sense. Just give me the damn number.

  After a little more coaxing and more intimidating threats of cutting off Russell, Ryker finally handed over Jesse’s phone number. Ashlin quickly plugged the number into her contacts, filed Jesse in her phone as Sexy QB, and hovered her finger over the call button. It was the truth; he was damn fine.

  Taking a deep breath, she dialed his number. After three rings, he finally picked up.

  “You know, I wasn’t going to answer my phone, and then I saw LBQ come up on the screen and thought, I can’t pass up the chance to talk to a Queen.”