The Girl Next Door
The Boy Next Door Chapter 19

By the time I'm walking off the field, I'm berating myself for yet another s**t practice. For stupid mistakes that not even the most incompetent incoming freshman would make. For not having my head in the game where it belongs.

I do my best not to think about the reason this is happening. My hope is that if I ignore it long enough, it'll fix itself. That's what I've done all my life-ignored the bad s**t and kept it moving and I've been just fine. So why isn't it working now? Why are the wheels falling off when I need them to stay put? This can't be how I go out.

It just can't be.

I need to get it figured out and fast before it becomes any more of a problem.

Beck shrugs, downplaying my plunging spiral. "Wasn't going to mention it."

I almost snort. Yeah, right.

"Good," I say with a grunt. Unable to help myself, I shoot an anxious glance toward Coach's office. My voice drops before I reluctantly admit, "For once in his life, Baker is right. I'd better grab some lube. Coach is going to ream my a*s." Beck flicks his gaze toward the inner sanctum.

Nik Taylor is one of the toughest coaches you'll replace in Division I football. He runs his program like a tight ship. If he's willing to give one hundred percent to his team, he expects his players to do the same in return. If you're not willing to bleed for the guys standing shoulder to shoulder with you on the field, there's no place for you on this roster. Even though I have no intention of entering the NFL draft, I still wanted to play for the best. With the best. Against the best.

Now I don't feel worthy of playing alongside these men. It's the worst f*****g feeling in the world.

"Please," Beck snorts. "Baker is a bonehead. Don't listen to a word that comes out of his yap."

That might be true, but I have a hunch that he's spot-on about the lube. Coach isn't going to put up with stupid mistakes on his field. I'm scared shitless that he's going to pull me. If Coach doesn't believe in me-a man I've played for my entire college career-how can I believe in myself?

"Look, bro," Beck continues, interrupting those depressing thoughts, "we all have off days. Don't stress about it."

I think by now, we both realize this is more than just an off day. It's a string of unfortunate events. "Easier said than done," I mumble.

With nothing else to say, we silently strip off the rest of our gear before hitting the showers. Now that Coach has cloistered himself in his office, the locker room once again turns rowdy. Everyone has caught their second wind. Guys are talking about all the parties happening off-campus this weekend. The team has been at Wesley, practicing twice a day since the beginning of July. We've spent hundreds of hours running through plays on the field, lifting in the gym, scrimmaging, and watching game film. With the start of school next week, this is the final hoorah. Everyone wants to cut loose and party their asses off before we have to buckle down for the season.

Once Beck hits the shower, I slump onto the bench with a huff and stare pensively at my hands. I just want to get this a*s chewing over with and move on with my life. Best case scenario, this will be a pep talk. Worst case, Kwiatkowski is moving up in the world. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow at the possibility. A couple guys have already come and gone from the enclosed space and yet, I remain paralyzed on the bench.

"Get a move on it, bro," Beck prods, returning with a towel slung around his waist. "I got s**t to take care of."

"Go on without me," I mutter. "I have a feeling this is gonna take a while."

Beck pulls on a pair of athletic shorts before shoving his feet into slides. "Does this have anything to do with Alyssa?"

"f**k if I know." I drag a hand over my face not wanting to admit my suspicions to him.

There's a long pause before he says, "You could always try talking to her."

Ha! The only problem with that bit of advice is that I actually value my life and aren't looking to end it prematurely.

"Yeah, I don't know about that. It didn't go so well the first time." For f**k's sake, he was there. He witnessed the shitshow that ensued when I tried to make nice. At one point, I'd actually thought she might inflict bodily harm. "That girl could give Coach a run for his money in the a*s reaming department."

One side of Beck's mouth hitches with reluctant humor.

"You heard her," I add, just in case he's a little slow on the uptake. "Alyssa wants nothing to do with me. In fact, she'd rather I not breathe the same air as her." I shake my head, chuckling grimly under my breath. "If Lys had her way, she'd rather I didn't breathe at all." It's funny, I can't remember a time when Alyssa wasn't chasing after me. Throughout high school and then college. I'm sure I sound like a giant d**k, but there was something comforting about the knowledge that she was waiting in the wings and only had eyes for

me. And now?

Now she wants nothing to do with me. If it were possible for her to smote me on the spot, she'd do it in a heartbeat, without a single thought or care. Then she'd step over my cold dead body on her way out the door.

Beck interrupts the whirl of those thoughts. "Can you blame the girl?"

Nope.

He knows how everything went down between us sophomore year.

Maybe sending a text message to breakup with her wasn't the smartest idea. Actually, there's no maybe about it. Alyssa had confessed her love, and I freaked out and cut her loose. At the very least, I should have sat her down and had an adult conversation. Instead, I'd taken the easy way out and it backfired in my face.

I focus on my clasped hands instead of meeting his curious stare. "Nope, not at all." Only now, as the uncomfortable silence settles around us, do I realize the locker room has thinned out. Most of these guys are ready to get their weekend started. This is the last place they want to hang out.

Even though I don't want to give voice to the words, I'm powerless to stop them from escaping. "You going to Alyssa's party?"

Beck shrugs as guilt flickers in his gaze before it skitters away.

Why did I even bother to ask? Damn right, he's going. Beck has a major boner for Mia. And there's no damn way that she won't be at her best friend's party. So, yeah... Beck will be all over that. And technically, an invitation was issued.

"You could always crash the party," he says with a chuckle.

I snort out a laugh.

Can you even imagine?

It would only give Alyssa a chance to finish what she started the other day and that would be ripping off my balls and shoving them down my throat.

appealing as that sounds-no, thanks. I like my balls exactly where they are and that's firmly attached to my body.

"Somehow I don't think that would go over well." The only thing my presence would accomplish is to piss Alyssa off even more than she already is. And I'm not sure that's the way to proceed in this situation.

Just like football, I need a little bit of time to figure out the best course of action.

"Have you considered giving her a gift she really wants?" When I raise a brow in question, Beck smirks. "Like your balls on a silver platter?"

I wad up my sweaty practice jersey and throw it at Beck's face. He bats it away before it can make contact.

"You're a d**k," I laugh, my muscles loosening.

He grins and the thick tension that had been gathering strength like an impending storm dissipates. "Tell me something I don't know."