Head In The Game: A Forbidden MM Sports Romance by Rebecca Rathe

Author:Rebecca Rathe [Rathe, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

After knocking three times, I figure he's ignoring me. I try texting, and calling, and video calling. Finally, I make a last-ditch attempt with a text.

JP: Open the door or I'll make sure the neighbors know I'm here.

To prove a point, I beat on the door and yell, "Hey Coach, you in there!?" just loud enough to make sure he knows I'm serious, but not loud enough to wake the neighborhood.

He opens the door and glares at me. His nose is red, and his usually close-cropped hair is disheveled. He was clearly in bed. I should feel bad about that, but I don't.

"What are you doing here, Jack?"

I hold up my offerings. "I heard you were sick. You look like shit, by the way. And this cafeteria soup tastes like shit, but I put some hot sauce in it, which helped a little. And I got you some salad to wash it down." I'm rambling as I push myself past him and into his house, heading towards the kitchen to make him a bowl of crappy soup.

"What are you doing here?" he repeats, and he even sounds tired.

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick? I thought you were just ignoring me." I cringe as the words come out of my mouth. I sound exactly like a needy girlfriend. "You took care of me. I owe you," I say, trying to cover.

He watches me with a bored expression. "I can take care of myself."

"So could I, but that didn't stop you. Just returning the favor."

"Okay, well. Thanks. Bye."

Seriously?

I give him a cocky grin and sit down next to the seat where I've placed his soup and gesture to it. I'm not going anywhere.

He rolls his eyes and sits down, wincing when he takes a sip of the soup.

"Yeah, I know. But it's better than dry protein bars."

"Is it?" He takes a few bites of the soup before turning to the salad, which he mostly finishes. I pretend to play with my phone, but I watch him eat every bite, focusing on the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. He notices me watching him and shakes his head, pushing away the food. "Alright, thanks for dinner, I guess. I'm going back to bed now."

I shake my head. "Not done returning my favors," I say, getting to my knees.

He doesn't push his seat back or turn towards me when I reach for his lap. Instead, he runs his hand over his face before leaning forward and resting his forehead in his hands.

"Go home, Jack."

"I distinctly remember feeling much better after getting my dick sucked. It's worth a try."

"Go. Home."

I stand and cross my arms, fully aware that I probably look like a petulant child, but I don't care. I'm annoyed at the way he's been ignoring me. "Why?"

He looks up at me with cold eyes, his expression hard and blank. "What happened Monday…"

"You're going to say that it can't or won't happen again, but that's bullshit. You keep going back and forth, but this will you, won't you shit is getting old.

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