Locker Room Talk
The following are short stories doled out randomly in my reader group. The premise being: What if guys got together and talked about life the way women do? The answer: Hilarity ensues. *Edited to add: There are several unpublished episodes here. If you have any more ideas for topics, hit me up!
Episode 1, Junior Year
The smell of sweaty pads, socks, and uniforms permeates my nose. No matter how much the janitorial staff deodorizes the area, or how hard they work to keep it sanitary, the scent just never goes away. I imagine it's a lot like being a garbage man. After a while, you get used to the odor that would make anyone not as experienced puke up their eyeballs.
It's Monday morning and everyone stumbles in for conditioning either still half asleep or raring to go. Some guys just pop out of bed like daisies, go figure.
I trudge to my locker, wishing I was more of a coffee person like Evie. Morning peppy go-getter, I am not. If I didn't play football, I'd be a night owl.
Conversations swirl around me, not really registering on my radar of putting one foot in front of the other, until a certain phrase I've never heard spoken aloud before punctures my mental haze.
"Dude, I had the worst wet dream last night. Woke up totally soaked. I even had to fucking change my sheets like some little kid who pissed the bed."
The din of locker doors slamming closed, sneakers squeaking against the tile, and quiet conversations silences as all eyes turn to stare at none other than our PDA king and center, Christian Zawicki.
No one speaks as Christian's cheeks flame a deep red that isn't normally present on his cocky face. As the silence stretches on, I'm suddenly wide awake and preparing to put down a mutiny of name-calling, shaming, and general mayhem.
Finally, the calm before the storm breaks when Alex clears his throat. "Sucks, bro. Been there, done that. It's a fact of life. Carry on."
Just like that, everyone bonds over the knowledge we've literally all "been there, done that." More stories are shared across the room, some even laughing through their perceived embarrassment.
Shit like this is exactly why Alex should've been made team captain.
Not only does he have an answer for everything, but he has a way of bringing people together I certainly don't possess.
Episode 2, Junior Year
The powerful odor punches me in the face the moment I step foot into the locker room. This isn’t the usual smell I’m talking about, here. It’s more like, like...eye watering.
The stench burns my throat, triggering my gag reflex. That protein shake I chugged on the way to school sneaks up my spasming esophagus with the stealth of a well-trained ninja.
“You know what’s the worst?” Trevor announces as he exits the toilet area. “You take your morning shit before you leave home, think you’re satisfied, think it’s all done, then you get here and it’s like bam! Sneak attack!”
Laughter rings out as my cheeks flame. T.M.I.
Yeah, we’re like a family on this team, but there are some things that just never need to be shared.
Mike gulps in deep breaths of air when he unfolds his big body after laughing. His face looks as red as mine feels, but for a totally different reason. He never has problems oversharing, either. “No, that’s not the worst. The worst is when you’re on the field and the urge strikes.”
Alex throws his head back, cackling. “That’s pretty bad, but the ultimate worst is during sex.”
Several agreements are offered up by the usual suspects.
“The other night, Dara was riding me. I mean, full on reverse cowgirl after we got back from dinner. I dunno, man, she was hitting just the right spot. I thought I was gonna die.” Christian pauses his story, laughing too hard to speak. “I finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to push her off me before shit got real.”
The entire room erupts at his pun.
I walk back out the way I came, throwing my duffel bag in a corner. I’ll put it in my locker later.
Only these guys can turn shit talk into sex talk.
For once, I’m grateful I have no clue whether they’re making it all up or not.
Episode 3, Junior Year
“You guys gotta help me,” Christian pleads. “Dara’s out for blood!”
Our center’s eyes are wide as he barrels into the locker room, constantly looking over his shoulder like his girlfriend might actually follow him in here.
In all fairness, knowing Dara, she might. She was bitchier than usual during school today.
Right on cue, two of our lineman guard the door.
“What’d you do, now?” Mike questions.
“Nothing!” Christian throws his hands up in the air. “I swear! It’s PMS week! It’s not my fault!”
A chorus of “oohs” goes up from the guys.
My ears perk up because this promises to be amusing if nothing else.
“Girls are disgusting this time of the month.” Alex shudders with his typical mantra. “You should just avoid her until the red wave has passed.”
“Nooooo,” Trevor drags out. “Don’t do that. She’ll be even more pissed, then when the coast is clear, you’ll be in the dog house.”
“What do you know about it? You don’t even have a girlfriend.” Mike laughs.
Trevor rolls his eyes. “No, but I dated that chick from Annex for a few months last year.”
Alex wraps his arm around Trevor’s neck, trying to force him into a nelson. “Dating a girl from another school for a few months does not make you an expert.”
“You never date anyone at all, and only hook up three times with the same girl at the most,” Trevor spits back, his face turning red.
Alex ignores him and directs an even gaze to Christian. “Don’t listen to these idiots. Trust me. I know women as well as I know my routes. Just lay low until it’s over, then she’ll be normal again.”
Christian nods like this is the sagest information he’s ever been gifted.
“I dunno.” Mike rubs his chin, his eyes taking on a weird dreamy quality. “If you can smooth over her bad mood, you might be missing out on prime fucking.”
The previous sentiment of understanding from my teammates is replaced by sounds of disgust. Alex actually gags.
Mike holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Hear me out. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“How could that possibly not be as bad as it sounds?” Alex chokes out.
Mike ticks off points on his fingers as he talks, like he’s coaching us on the finer points of the female gender. “One, you don’t need lube. Two, they’re extra horny around this time, so they’re game for all kinds of kinky shit. Three, Chelsie claims it eases her cramps, so you might actually score extra brownie points to store for the next time Dara’s mad at you. And four, getting off is getting off.”
The entire locker room is so silent, you could hear a pin drop. Normally, any mention of sex sends a volley of crass comments raining down from so many directions, it’s hard to keep up with who said what. Not today.
I stare at Mike like he’s a stranger. He doesn’t normally participate in these kinds of conversations. Even with Alex and I, he keeps his and Chelsie’s sex life private. Hearing him talk like this makes me blink my eyes to see if I’m dreaming it all up. His relationship with Chelsie sounds even more bizarre from this perspective.
“What about the mess?” Christian finally asks.
Mike shrugs. “Lay down a towel. Take a shower after.”
Everyone continues to gape at him, some with their mouths open and eyes bugging out of their skulls.
“It’s not worth it, man.” Alex shudders, then turns back to his locker, seemingly done with this insanity.
Mike points a finger at Christian. “Do what you want, but I’m telling you. Girls already feel miserable this time of the month. All they want is someone to make them feel better. You find out what Dara needs, then you do it. End of discussion.”
Now thatis some advice I can get behind. I store all of this information in my brain, just in case I ever need it. I wonder what makes Evie feel better. If I can find out somehow, that could just be another weapon in my arsenal to get in her good graces.
Christian nods, like he’s weighing his options. “Sorry, Alex. I’m gonna go with Mike on this one. He lives with all girls, so he probably knows more than any of us.”
Mike shoots a smug grin at Alex.
His evil expression makes me wonder if he didn’t feed Christian a bunch of crap just to undermine Alex.
Those two idiots compete over air some days.
Episode 4, Sophomore Year
“I think my dick is too small.”
Something clatters to the tile, potentially dropped by any number of guys who are now staring with their jaws on the floor at Christian.
Like a cartoon character, his brain must register what his pie hole barfed up a few seconds too late. His eyes get wide, and he pulls off a fish—opening and closing his mouth a couple times in rapid succession.
No one moves. No one speaks.
Christian’s normally pale, freckled face turns beet red.
Beside me on the bench, Alex shakes his head, subtly telling our dumbass teammate to keep his trap shut and not make things worse for himself.
If there’s one thing you learn and learn quick as a young guy on any team, it’s to show no weakness. When sharks smell blood in the water, frenzies happen before you even realize you’re swimming.
“What makes you think that, Zawicki?” Jeff Black, the captain of the team, aka the senior who makes our lives a living hell, slowly rises from where he’d been lacing his cleats. There’s a distinctive gleam in his beady, black eyes that spells trouble not just for Christian, but for all of us JV players.
“Uh…” Christian’s panicked gaze darts around to the rest us sophomores for backup.
Sorry, buddy. You’re on your own. You brought this on yourself.
“Falls!” Jeff barks. “You think Zawicki has a teeny peeny?”
I cast a glare at Christian that silently says, “Fuck you for bringing me into this shit show.”
Out loud, “I-I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” The menacing senior towers over me. If we were both standing, he’d be looking up, but as it is, I’m in a position to have my face stomped on. “Are you the captain of the JV squad or not?”
Alex elbows me in the side. Why, I don’t freaking know.
“Don’t you think it’s your job to know everything about your team?”
The way he says it makes goosebumps break out across my skin. This can only end poorly. For everyone.
I cough, trying to return my balls to their normal position instead of the shriveled-up masses that are climbing inside my body for protection. “I know everyone’s stats. Their strengths, weaknesses on the field.”
Jeff nods, pursing his lips. “Do you now?”
“Seems to me like you don’t know everything about them, then. Why does Zawicki, here,” he thumbs over his shoulder at a still red-faced Christian, “think his cock isn’t good enough?”
I shrug. We might be teammates who have showered together, but rule number one of being an athlete is you never, evercheck out another dude’s goods. Everyone fucking knows that.
“So, you don’tknow everything about your team.”
“I popped my new girlfriend’s cherry last night, and she cried,” Christian blurts out. “I think it’s because my dick is too small.”
Though I don’t dare tear my gaze away from Jeff, I feel Alex beside me shaking with silent laughter.
“What’s so funny, Fossoway?” Jeff barks.
Alex continues to shudder beside me, gasping for breath.
“I’m sorry,” Alex wheezes through his laughter. “It’s just fucking funny.”
“You think it’s funny one of your teammates has dick problems?” Jeff’s face is practically red, like he’s actually angry about this on Christian’s behalf, which is highly unlikely. “Maybeyourdick has a problem.”
“My dick’s just fine,” Alex cackles. “So is his.”
Across the room, Mike catches my eye. The hard set of his jaw mirrors my own. Ever since Alex’s mom was diagnosed with cancer earlier this fall, he’s been weird. He broke up with his girlfriend, started sleeping around, and calls the Lexus his parents gave him when he turned sixteen “guilt money.”
Mike mouths to me silently, “Shut it down.”
I cast him a confused glare. How the fuck am I supposed to do that? I might be captain of the JV squad, but none of these guys take me seriously unless I’ve got a football in my hands. And no matter how much I’ve tried to talk to Alex about his behavior, he just brushes me off.
Before I can think of anything to say, Alex stands up and gestures at Christian. “She didn’t cry because your dick’s too small, man. She cried because you popped her cherry. It’s supposed to hurt.”
All the other sophomores except Mike and I nod, trying to maintain some semblance of unity.
Jeff isn’t having any of that. His main goal since day one of camp has been to divide and conquer.
“Falls!” He turns on me again. “Your players either think it’s supposed to hurt when they fuck a girl or that if she cries, their dicks are too small. What do you have to say to that?”
My eyes dart around the room for some back up. I have no clue what to say to that. Evie certainly isn’t in any pain in my fantasies. She’s not crying anything other than my name. But, fantasies are all I have to go on.
Jeff sighs like he’s quickly losing patience with me. “Let me make this simpler for you, QB. You wanna read the players on the field? Start with reading your own teammates. How many of these guys know what it’s like to pop a cherry?”
I’m not a mind reader; I’m a football player. Still, Jeff’s advice makes a little sense.
“Warriors, we are a team! That means we help each other out. So, here’s what we’re gonna do for our wannabe.”
I grit my teeth at his use of the nickname he bestowed on me last year. My numbers blow his out of the water. The only reason I’m not the starting quarterback for the varsity squad is because he’s a senior, and I’m only a sophomore. Dad told me early on to mind the pecking order, and wait for the right time to smash it. So, for now...I’m waiting.
Jeff stares down every player in the locker room, regardless of squad or age. “If you’ve fucked, raise your hand.”
Most of the older guys, and a few of the freshman’s hands, shoot straight up in the air, their chests puffing with presumed pride. My fellow sophomores glance around, but then slowly raise their hands. There’s literally only three dudes in this room who don’t. And I’m one of them.
“Who’s lying?” The question isn’t addressed to the team at large.
Fuck, how am I supposed to know who’s lying?
Jeff gets right up in my personal space, shoving Alex away. His hot breath curdles my stomach when he whispers in my ear. “You gotta learn to read, Falls. On the field and off of it. Look at their eyes. Their posture. Who raised their hands too fast? Who looked around before joining in with the majority? Think about what you know about your teammates offthe field. Who has a girlfriend? Who’s a player? Who’s religious?”
Is he...is he trying to help me?
The spotlight’s already on me, so I have no choice but to cave to Jeff’s demand. Using his suggestions, my gaze travels around the room and sure enough...there are some dead giveaways. Just like on the field.
Joey, our JV freshman running back won’t meet anyone’s gaze even though his arm is stick-straight in the air.
Anthony, a junior cornerback, has a bead of sweat on his upper lip even though it’s always chilly in the locker room. His gaze is a little too hard, a little too direct. Not to mention, he’s a total asshole, and I just can’t imagine any girl giving it up to him.
The rest of the team looks pretty even. There’s no way for me to tell by sight if they’re being untruthful. Still, I flip through my mental catalogues of social files. Sadly, there’s not much there. Keeping my nose to the grind and my eyes on the tile beneath my feet gets me by. Most of my brain consists of carefully organized Evie files, just in case I ever need them. And in all fairness, there’s nearly a hundred players in this locker room. I don’t know them all personally.
“Wells, Falls? What’s the verdict?”
I can’t help but feel like Jeff’s setting me up. What happens when I call these guys out?
“Hand, Thiel, Barnes, Nolan, and Ketchum are lying.”
Their predicted denials collide in an echoing jumble of shouts which jar my pounding brain until Jeff brings everyone back under control with a loud whistle.
“What the fuck, Rob?” Trevor stands in front of me, panting like an angry bull. Jeff makes no move to hold him back. “I didn’t even have my hand up. Why would you say I was lying?”
A smirk I don’t mean to let loose crawls over my lips. “You told me about her last month, Trev. I’m sorry if you didn’t want anyone to know.”
He collapses onto the bench beside me, then nudges me. “It’s fine. I was just trying not to be a jackass in case word got back to her.”
Before I can react to that, Jeff slaps me on the shoulder. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
Jeff raises his wooly eyebrows. “Were you lying? You can’t judge a whole room full of your brothers without offering yourself up, too.”
My face heats up as all eyes train on me. Well aware I’m about to sign my own death warrant, I clear my throat. “I wasn’t lying. I haven’t been with anyone.”
The expected hoots and hollers reach catastrophic levels in my ears, but once again Jeff silences the mob.
“Maybe there’s something wrong with yourdick, then?”
“Jesus Christ!” Alex throws his hands up. “Rob’s dick is fine. Christian’s dick is fine. All our dicks are fine!”
I shoot Alex a quick half-hearted smile of gratitude, even though I know his protest falls on deaf ears.
Jeff turns toward Alex with an eerily calm expression that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?” Alex huffs.
“You feel so strongly everyone here is packing heat, including yourself. So. Prove. It.”
Alex rolls his eyes, then drops his drawers, much to the shock of the entire room. He fists his limp dick, whipping it around a bit like a toy. “See? Everything’s fine in happy land. Before you ask me to prove it works, I want you to know I’m full-on hetero and not interested, but flattered by your offer.”
Mike’s eyes are bulging out of their sockets when he meets my gaze. Our friend has well and truly lost his mind.
Jeff shakes his head, but a small smile threatens to crack his tough-guy facade. “You sure you’re a wide receiver, Fossoway? You seem more like a lineman to me.”
Alex looks down at his own dick. “What the fuck, man? How do you get that from the size of my shaft?”
“Not the size of your cock, dumbass. The lengths you just went to in order to protect your quarterback.”
The poignancy of Jeff’s statement is lost in his poor choice of words.
“Show us your lengths, pussies!” Anthony cackles. “I bet none of you are packing any heat!”
The varsity squad heckles us in chorus, shouts to show them what we’ve got mix with laughter about liars and virgins.
My entire body goes up in flames when Jeff turns toward me with a scary glint in his eye. “Another thing you should know about being squad captain, Falls. Sometimes you gotta give your guys what they want. JV players, line up and take a page from Fossoway’s playbook.”
My gratitude for Alex’s distraction incinerates.
Knowing we’ll be hazed worse if we don’t comply, one by one the sophomores and freshmen in the locker room line up as instructed and let down their pants amid raucous laughter from the upperclassmen.
“I don’t even think their balls have dropped yet!” heckles Anthony.
Yeah. I’m more convinced than ever he was lying.
Cold air hits my groin as I join the rest of my team. No matter how much I try to seem unaffected, my balls goes back into hiding mode out of a sense of self-preservation I can’t control. I keep my gaze locked on the Warriors seal painted above the lockers. No way am I about to judge the guys standing half naked next to me. I don’t want to know about thesestats.
“Whaddya think, boys? Think our JV guys have what it takes to pop some cherries at Ironville?”
“Not with those limp noodles! Get ‘em up, fellas!”
Mentally, I’m in my happy place—on the field, a ball in my hands, a crystal blue sky above, and a breeze cooling my sweat-soaked skin. In reality? All hell is breaking loose around me.
Jeff barks out a harsh laugh, joining in with the rest of his squad. “I’m with them. You guys might not have dick problems, but I have no doubt any chicks you’re with are crying over their shitty luck. The biggest of you is, what? Three inches?”
“Dude,” Mike grits out. “It’s cold in here.”
“Well, we can’t help you with your dick problems if we don’t get a good look at what we’re working with.”
Trevor nearly chokes beside me. “What is that supposed to mean? You guys are nottouching my junk!”
“Hell no!” Jeff actually gags, then an evil smile curls his lips. “But, we will give you a few pointers.”
“I don’t need pointers from you,” Alex scoffs. “I have plenty of sex. All by myself, like the big boy I am.”
The upperclassmen crack up at Alex’s confidence.
A senior lineman calls out, “You don’t look so big from where I’m standing!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Alex shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the taunts. “What can I say? I’m a grower, not a shower.”
Jeff steps up to Alex. “Maybe, but you clearly don’t know how to use what you’ve got if you think popping a girl’s cherry is supposed to hurt.”
I’m so confused. Is Jeff a bad guy or a good guy? Maybe if my dick wasn’t hanging in the breeze, I’d be able to think more clearly.
“Get ‘em hard, boys. Let’s see what you’re really packing when you dick your girls.”
Nope. No more doubt. He’s an asshole like the rest of them.
“Fine,” Alex taunts back. “But don’t be too jealous of what you see.”
Mike turns his head to blink at me in slow motion, then faces the upperclassman. “I’m not jerking off in front of you guys!”
“So, you’re saying you have trouble getting it up, Mitchell?” Jeff turns around to his squad as they all laugh.
“Then make with the strokin’.”
This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening.
I guess the other guys are all going to town because Jeff trains his laser-like focus on me. “You really weren’t lying, Falls. Not sure what to do with that twig between your legs?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I knew exactly what to do with his mom, but even I’m not stupid enough to incur that level of wrath.
A couple of the seniors mime a jerking motion behind Jeff as they all howl at me.
“How the fuck did you make captain of anything?” One nearly cries, doubled over with laughter.
Anthony cracks up, then points an accusing finger in my direction. “Christ, are you gay?”
Not that it should matter if I was, but I’ve had enough. These pissheads aren’t going to pipe down until they get what they want. Might as well play the game by their rules until I can shake up the team after Jeff graduates next year.
I close my eyes, fist my dick, and go to my otherhappy place.
My favorite fantasy flashes behind my closed lids.
Evie’s smile is warm and inviting, her black curls splayed out over my blue pillowcase, enhancing the brightness of her eyes. She beckons me closer with a sexy little sweep of her finger, but I’m going to take my damn time savoring every inch of naked, smooth, tan skin on display in the middle of my bed. Her chest heaves with rapid breaths, her tits in a constant state of motion. I cup them in my hands, swiping my thumbs across her large nipples. They harden under my touch, and my dick goes to full mast in response. Evie licks her swollen, shiny lips, eyeing me with clear intent. We’ll get to that later. First…
I snap out of my haze with the sound of Jeff coughing. “All right, break it up. If you come on the floor, you’re cleaning it up with your tongue.”
My eyes focus in on the object in his hand: a measuring tape.
“Dude.” Alex protests. “You’re not touching me.”
“I don’t want to touch your cock,” Jeff assures. “Measure it yourself.”
Each guy takes his turn, calling out his number before passing the tape onto the next teammate. Most of them yell out a five or six, with some halfs and quarters thrown in to pad the numbers. Christian yells out seven, clearly over his small dick mentality, but Jeff shakes his head and tsks.
“You’re a six, dumbass. I can see the tape.”
No one tries to lie after that.
“Seven,” Alex reads with a smug tone to his voice. “Wouldn’t want me to stick that up your ass, now, would ya?”
Jeff smiles his creepy smile at him in response. “Yeah. No wonder all the girls cry when you stab them with that sausage. I’ll get back to that in a minute.”
Alex hands the tape over to me.
Here’s the thing. I might not take a peek at the guys showering next to me, but every guy has measured himself. I’m no exception. I’ve known for a long time I’m bigger than average. And frankly, this is just another way to get these assholes off my back. My numbers don’t lie. On the field or off of it.
Jeff’s eyes bug out of his skull as he checks my measurement. “You, uh...you round down?”
“Not usually.” I shrug. “Just didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”
“What’s the tape say?” someone calls.
“Eight and three quarters,” Jeff chokes out.
The room goes silent.
How do ya like me now, motherfuckers?
Without a word, I hand the tape over to Trevor. The rest of the line measures, calls out more fives or sixes, and then it’s over.
Jeff faces us, his arms crossed over his chest as he strikes a wide-stanced pose. “Here’s the thing, douche nozzles. You have to know what position you are before the play is in motion. On the field, in bed, doesn’t matter. If a girl cries when you fuck her, you’re not doing your job. For the rest of the season, we’re going to teach you what you need to know.”
Oh, great. Just what I need. Dicking advice from assholes.
“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” Alex spits. “I probably get laid more than you do.”
Jeff gets in Alex’s face. “I never pegged you for an asshole, Fossoway, but if you think it’s supposed to hurt when you fuck them, then you have a lot to learn.”
My respect for Jeff climbs a rung on the ladder in my mind. Neither Mike nor I have any idea what to do with Alex these days, but maybe someone else can bring him in line.
“Whatever.” Alex bends down and hikes his pants back up.
The rest of the guys follow suit.
Any further sex ed lessons come to a screeching halt when Coach pops his head in the door. “Stop wasting my time and get your asses out on the field!”
Ahhh, saved by the bulging vein in his neck. Never thought I’d live to see the day I was grateful for that sight.
Everyone moves into high gear, donning their pads and practice jerseys, then hightailing it out of the locker room with the customary slap to the Warrior above the exit.
I’m just about to bail myself when a firm hand on my shoulder stops me in my tracks.
I turn to meet Jeff’s nervous gaze.
“Falls, uh...you should maybe, um…” He clears his throat.
It’s all I can do not to laugh in his pompous face. Dad always said the famous Falls dick would be my saving grace someday. I just didn’t know that day would come so soon. Pun not intended.
“I’m just gonna lay it on the line for you. Whatever advice we give the other guys this season doesn’t apply to you. Don’t pop any cherries. Any girl who gets deflowered by you willcry.”
My glee comes to a screeching halt. “Stop fucking with me, Black. You already won this round.”
He shakes his head, the expression on his face dead serious. “I’m not messing around. I wouldn’t purposely tell you to go out and hurt an innocent girl who doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.”
I cross my arms over my chest to stop the shaking in my limbs. I’ve had enough of his shit today. “What do you know about it, pencil dick?”
Jeff frowns, runs a hand over his face, then looks away. “I know the first time I fucked my girlfriend with my nine-inch dick, there was blood everywhere, and she was in bed for a week. It took me a long time to convince her to let me try again.”
A lump forms in my throat, but no amount of swallowing allows me to speak. I happen to know Jeff never has a steady girlfriend. He’s also not a player like Alex has become. He has steady fuck buddies, but doesn’t do relationships. Or so the word at school claims.
Jeff returns his deep brown eyes to mine. “She broke up with me after months of pain. After a few more girls, I learned to go slow, use lube, and never expect the fantasy of drilling hard, fast, and balls-deep.” He shrugs, then averts his gaze again. “No matter what you do, some girls won’t be able to take you. All the guys are jealous, sure, but having a big cock isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Take it from a guy who knows.”
Anger climbs up my spine. Hell no is this asshole going to take my fantasies away from me. “Prove. It.”
Jeff jerks when I throw his own words back at him. Instead of punching me or yelling at me to get my ass on the field, he offers me a sad smile. “I loved that girl, but I can never be with her. She’s been with the same guy since we broke up. Every time I see them together in the halls kills me a little. Because I know if I was average, that lucky bastard could have been me.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder then pushes past me down the hall.
Panic settles in, but I quickly brush it off. Jeff’s been a thorn in my side since last year.
He’s totally fucking with me.
Jealousy makes people do stupid-ass things.
Episode 5, Sophomore Year
“God dammit!” Alex storms into the locker room, not caring he’s making himself easy fodder for the varsity team with his little temper tantrum.
I glance at the other side of the room, waiting for fallout that never comes. The juniors and seniors on the team are too busy gearing up for the playoffs to care about us loser JV guys. Thank God.
I don’t want any repeats of the dick measuring contest from earlier this year.
Mike rolls his eyes at me, then turns to Alex. “What’s got your panties all in a bunch?”
“I got turned down for a date!” Alex spits.
A few lockers away, Christian peeks around his door, his eyes wide. “You? You, the amazing Alex Fossoway, got turned down for a date?”
The expression on Christian’s face is almost laughable. I can’t tell if he’s really appalled or just mocking Alex.
My muscles tense with the apprehension of breaking up a fight if it’s the latter. One wrong word when Alex is in a mood like this, and all hell will break loose.
Trevor sidles up to Alex, a suicidal glint in his brown eyes. “So? That’s it? You’re not gonna give us the down low on what went wrong?”
“I don’t know what went wrong,” Alex hisses before slamming his locker closed. “One minute, I’m laying on the charm; the next, I’m being shut down.”
Mike looks skeptical. “What did you say to her? Who did you ask?”
“Hannah Allen,” Alex admits. He seems, strangely, like he wants to vent about this. Which makes no sense. Failure is not something to be discussed out in the open in this locker room, where we’re all sitting ducks for the upperclassmen’s abuse. “I suggested dinner and a movie. I even told her she could pick!”
“Boring,” Anthony, one of our junior cornerbacks, sing songs as he walks past us to head out to the field for practice.
Immediately, we all clam up and get back to the business of getting ready to watch the varsity team practice. None of us is stupid enough to keep this discussion going if our guard dogs are paying attention.
“Well, well, well, Fossoway.”
I cringe at the all-too-chipper sounding voice of our team captain, Jeff Black. If he sounds this happy, it’s only because he’s about to put some kind of smack down on us.
“I couldn’t help but overhear your tale of woe. For a guy who has no problems with dicking, this is a surprise.”
Never one to back down from a challenge, Alex faces Jeff with a very convincing bored expression. “Dating and dicking are two different things, Black. Do you need me to explain that to you? Because I’m a team player, so if you need help learning which is a salad fork and which hole your little prick is supposed to go in, I can school you on both.”
“Holy shit,” Mike whispers beside me. “He has a death wish.”
Yeah, he does. I’m not sure whether to be proud or…no. Terrified. I’m just terrified on his behalf. I glance around me at the other JV players. They’re squaring their shoulders like they’re prepping for a fight. If Alex finally crossed the line, at least we’ll all have his back.
More like it’ll be an ugly brawl, and we’ll end up in the hospital, but still.
“You know what? I’m feeling generous today, since you little shits will be watching from the sidelines while we gear up for another Warriors playoff run. Since I’m such a team player, I’m gonna give you this anyway.”
The slap of a large, falling-apart-at-the-seams book making contact with the bench echoes off the tile walls. Jeff walks away, whistling like he’s just dropped a bomb.
The second he rounds the corner, everyone crowds around.
“The fuck is that?”
“It’s a scrapbook.”
“It’s a manual.”
“It’s the Holy Grail.”
My teammates’ excited words and reading skills blur in my brain which is feeling particularly sloshed after an invisible tackle.
“It’s a trap.”
The guys stop practically ripping the worn pages out and stare at me.
Trevor shakes his head. “How could this possibly be a trap? Look at it, Falls! Magazine clippings, hand-written notes, hell! There are fucking instructional drawings in here that make Playboy look like a knock-off. This is decades’ worth of information!”
“It’s a set up,” I emphasize. “How can you forget all the shit Black has put us through for the last two years? Why would he just pony up a gift like this if there weren’t strings attached or a heavy penalty to pay?”
Not even Mike sides with me. “You’re paranoid. Seriously, some of this stuff is gold.”
As the JV team captain, I have to try one last time to save their sorry souls. “I’m telling you, this stuff will only get you in trouble. Don’t read it. Treat that book like the plague.”
They ignore me, poring over their presumed holy grail of the female gender.
Shaking my head, I make my way out to the practice field without the rest of my squad.
Before I even make it to the sidelines, Jeff shakes his head, a grim expression on his face. “Where’s your team, Falls?”
“Enjoying your little gift.” Stupid teammates, stupid Jeff, stupid everything.
“I’m disappointed in you.” Jeff claps me on the shoulder, and it still fucking hurts in spite of my shoulder pads. “I thought you’d pass.”
I don’t even bother not rolling my eyes. “Was this another test?”
“Yup. How are you gonna lead the team next year without me? You couldn’t even convince them to get their asses out here and learn how to make a playoff run. That book is full of so much crap, even Fossoway might never land another date.”
Fuck. I knewit.
Episode 6, Senior Year
“Holy shit,” Christian tears into the locker room with wide eyes, looking over his shoulder like he’s being followed. “Did you guys see the tits on the new girl? I’ve had a boner all day. I couldn’t stop staring at them.”
“I’m telling Dara.” Trevor pokes his head out of his locker with a shit-eating grin.
Christian shrugs. “I’ll deny it.”
“Of course, you will.” Mike rolls his eyes.
Alex leans against the bank of lockers, his arms crossed over his chest. “They’re more than a handful, for sure, but I think they’re fake.”
Everyone freezes in place at the disappointed tone in Alex’s voice.
Christian pokes Alex in the shoulder, then eyes him suspiciously. “Who are you, and what you have done with the Alex I know and love?”
Alex shoves him away. “Never say you love me again.”
“Never imply you don’t love boobs again,” Christian retorts.
“I dolove tits. Real ones.”
Trevor slams his locker shut, then openly gapes at Alex. “You’re telling us you would turn down fake Ds for real A cups?”
Alex tips his head from side to side, seeming to think it over. “I’m telling you my preference is real double Ds.”
Mike rubs his chin. “I dunno. I think anything more than a handful is a waste. Cs are the way to go.”
Alex frowns. “You’re just saying that because Chelsie is a C. You wouldn’t complain if you could magically titty-fuck her tomorrow.”
Thank God Trevor and Christian pull them apart, because I do not have the energy for this shit today.
Trevor pats Mike’s shoulder once he’s no longer holding him back. “I’m with Mikey. There is such a thing as too much to handle. Cs are ideal.”
“What do you know about it?” Christian scoffs. “You’ve probably only touched a single pair of tits in your entire life.”
“Don’t be a sore loser just because your girlfriend’s ass is three times the size of her tits,” Trevor volleys back.
“Hey!” Christian points a menacing finger at Trevor. “Dara is a 36B, plenty to fondle. And I’m an ass man, anyway.”
“Oh my God.” I rub my throbbing temples. If their girlfriends overheard this conversation, they’d never see boobs again. Or asses. Or anything else. “Will you assholes shut up? You should be grateful you’ve ever been allowed to see breasts, let alone touch them. Get ready and get on the field. Is that too much to ask?”
An evil smile spreads across Alex’s face. “What’s wrong, Falls? Are your panties all in a twist because you got assigned a seat next to your favorite tits in Bio today? Disappointed you’ll be so close without touching for a few months?”
He knows exactly what kind of disappointment I live with on a daily basis. “Don’t start with me. I am not in the mood.”
One of our sophomore linebackers sidles up to me with a confused expression. “You really like flat girls more than big titties?”
I turn my eyes to the ceiling, praying for an ounce of patience I don’t have. Before I can explain my perspective that a girl’s mind matters more than any of her physical assets, Alex whistles.
“Warriors! Raise your hand if you’ve ever seen naked tits!”
The little sheep do as they’re told without a second’s hesitation. Almost everyone raises their hands.
“Who’s been lucky enough to touch?”
Not as many hands go up, but it’s still easily three-fourths of the team. Unless people are lying, which they probably are.
Next, we’re all subjected to a poll of which sizes we prefer. No one raises their hands when Alex shouts for A lovers last.
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Come on, Falls. Don’t be shy. You’re our quarterback. We want to know what you like.”
“No one cares what I like.”
My senior teammates snicker among themselves.
Josh Duncan, a junior who makes me want to pummel his ass on the regular, completely loses his shit, gasping for air and doubling over. “It’s true? You like flat chests? Man, that is just so fucked up.”
“The only thing fucked up is this epic waste of time. Get your asses on the field. Now.”
Finally,finally, the team realizes I’m not joking and trudges their way out of the locker room.
Alex tries to slip past me, but I grab him by the shoulder. Hard.
“What was the point of that little exercise?”
Another evil grin splits his face. “To make you realize what you’ve been missing out on, so you’ll do something with this golden opportunity.”
“I hate you.”
He pats my cheek. “You love me. Maybe not as much as you love the smallest set of tits I’ve ever seen, but you definitely love me.”
“You said it yourself.” We fall into step down the hallway toward the practice field. “Small and perfect are better than huge and fake.”
“I said huge and real are perfect,” he laughs. “I have no idea why you’re so hung up on a chick who’s flatter than a field.”
“She’s the perfect package, Alex. She has it all.”
He raises his eyebrow. “Guess you better get to work this year, then.”
“That’s the plan.” Somehow, I don’t think telling her I know her exact measurements is the way to go.