Out of Your League: MM Sports Romance by Joe Satoria

Author:Joe Satoria [Satoria, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Satoria Publishing
Published: 2021-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

12. RICKY

I woke the following morning to the comfiest fabric on my back and a plush blanket pressed against my chest. Light came through a large window, and for a moment, I had forgotten where I was—and what I’d done.

Fuck.

My eyes blinked open, snapping at the glue which bound them. What had I done? Sure, I thought about that moment where he kissed me in high school, and I even wanted to do it back—but I was drunk—I was tipsy.

I laid in the quiet stillness of my thoughts.

Upright on the couch, my head wasn’t spinning like usual. It was spinning for a different reason. Marcus’ place looked expensive. There was a pleasant smell to the large open room.

It was so far from everything else I’d ever been around and known. I stretched, pulling the fabric of the blanket to my face—it smelled like the cologne he wore, the one I’d tasted on my tongue when I kissed his neck.

I liked it.

Had I always liked it? I’d never been interested in guys. Maybe one of them. Marcus. I wondered for a moment that if I’d have kissed him back in high school, both our lives could be completely different.

A pressing sensation in my bladder quickly diminished the thought.

Fuck, I needed to piss—after a night drinking, light or heavy, I pissed like a horse. I didn’t even know this place. Half-naked on the couch. It wasn’t sure I should’ve been this comfortable. He was comfortable with me last night, though. Wasn’t he?

I hoped so. I’d never thrown myself on anyone.

Having sex at the end of the night wasn’t my goal. I never really had that goal. I just wanted to drink and have fun.

“Hello?” I called out.

Of course, this place was enormous. He wouldn’t be able to hear me. I grabbed the trousers from the ground. Digging around in my pocket, I pulled out my phone. It was dead.

“Marcus?” I continued, standing. I wrapped the blanket at my waist. I really needed to piss. “Marcus!” Nothing. I didn’t know where he’d gone, or what time it was. I needed to know when the next train was, at least.

Slipping on the corner of the blanket, I skidded across the tile into the kitchen. There were doors all over, and nothing labelled. I didn’t know where to go or if this was worse than when I’d stole from him.

Through the first door on the wall of the kitchen, I found a laundry room—fancy, considering my washing machine was in the kitchen and it had to be dried on a clothing rack against the radiator. The light flickered as I pulled the door.

Another door led down a hallway—the door I swore I’d seen Marcus slip through. At the end of the hallway there was a large window pulling in vibrant light. I called out his name, but there wasn’t any answer.

He wouldn’t have left me alone, again? Would he?

Down the hallway, slow as I tried not to step on the blanket or piss myself, I knocked on two different doors.

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