The Tease - Part 4

All characters are consenting adults (18+)

Maybe just one more after this...

“You’re jealous”.

“I’m not jealous” I snapped, “what do I have to be jealous about? I mean, look at him. He’s not even focused. Plus, Coach only has him there because I can’t play. If I could play, I’d be the one down there, just like always”.

Sandy stopped listening halfway through my rant and turned to her phone as the crowd gasped. Dylan, of course, had narrowly missed a free kick and I’d never been as happy to see my team suffer.

“He should have gone for the top right corner” I said, “right over the wall, curl it around, it’s a no-brainer really”.

“Alright, Adrian” she sighed, still scrolling through Instagram. I ignored her. She had no clue about soccer, anyway.

My eyes followed Dylan up the pitch. Admittedly, he looked solid in the kit. His torso bulged through the shirt, showing every muscle he owned, and the loose white shorts left little to my imagination, front and back. I could see the outline of his briefs through them, and I wondered what brand he wore today.

With seconds of the first half left to go, the crowd held its collective breath as Dylan passed to David who passed to Brian Sully, who drove it halfway up the pitch, and back to Dylan. He surged up the left, right by one player, then another. People were standing now, all watching in awe as the athletic young man barged through half of the opposing team, and when he took a shot, everybody gasped.

“Oh my god!” Sandy called out, as the cheers exploded through the stand, and the ball ended in the back of the net. “That’s the best goal I’ve ever seen!”

I felt my nostrils flare as I sat down prematurely. It wasn’t that good, but I suffered through the celebrations of the crowd and sulked to myself until the memory of the kiss came throbbing back into my head. Could it even be classed as a kiss? He put his lips against mine, but nothing more. It was no different to touching arms in a packed locker room, or accidentally brushing knees with the stranger sitting next to you. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

“Are you seriously going to sit there in a mood when your team is winning?” Sandy asked, and I could hear the frustration in her voice.

“I’m not in a mood” I barked, and she shook her head.

“You know what, Adrian”. I watched from the corner of my eye as she grabbed her handbag and slung it over her shoulder. “I come to these things for you” she spat, “I’m going home”.

I considered calling after her, but what was the point? I was miserable, and in turn, I was making my girlfriend miserable. Plus, my brain was too focused on Dylan to pay her much attention, anyway.

The referee was already showing him a yellow card for peeling his jersey over his chiselled body in celebration, but the crowd had gone wild for it. He beamed at the ref, and I smirked to myself. The referee was one of the toughest refs in the tournament, and he wouldn’t take kindly to Dylan’s disrespect. I prayed for a red card, until the man chuckled and slapped Dylan on the back.

“Fucking typical” I sighed to myself.

The locker room was heavy with the excitement of victory. A few of the guys took pictures with the trophy, but it was Dylan whom they all wanted to see. He stood shirtless near the showers, mud and sweat dripping down his abs, and a grin on his stupidly handsome face.

Coach barged by me and held out his arms.

“What a performance, Dylan!” He gasped, shaking his hand, “in all my years as a coach, I’ve never seen anything like it. Well done, son! Well done!”

I felt like tackling him to the tiles and beating the shit out of him. Then I’d turn on Dylan and try to do the same, and I’d continue until every fucker in this place had a black eye.

David slapped my back and I snapped my head back to him.

“Some game, huh?” He chuckled.

“Yeah” I growled, glaring at Dylan who was taking more pictures, “some game”.

After an utterly cringe-worthy speech from Coach, where my name wasn’t even mentioned, the guys changed and spoke excitedly about the after-party. It was a long standing tradition to have the party in the winning goal scorers house, and I was eager to see what excuse Dylan would give for refusing.

“Party?” He said, as everybody circled around him. “At my place?”

I couldn’t even hide my smile. Finally I got to watch him squirm.

“It’s cool if you can’t, bro” one of the other guys said, “we can go to my place, instead”.

Dylan looked over at him, and my stomach twisted when I realised he was smiling even wider than I was.

“Oh no” he said, rubbing his hands together, “we’re partying at mine tonight”.

His house was fucking perfect. It was big, fancy, clean, and stocked with as much booze as an entire team of soccer players could ever ask for. His folks were out, but Dylan was quite the host. Pizzas lined one of the tables, and on the other, groups of students played Beer Pong. Girls flocked to the place when they heard that Dylan was throwing a party, and the music pumped through the entire house.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Connor Reid asked, pouring some of his beer into my cup, “you look like your grandma just died”.

I forced a half laugh.

“Nothing” I shrugged, because if one more person asked me what was wrong, I was sure that I was going to explode.

“Yo, he’s something, huh?” He pressed, and I felt the vein in my forehead throb.

“He’s something alright”.

“Is that Megan he’s dancing with?” Connor continued, and I scoffed and shook my head.

“Megan Blake?” I asked him, following his eyes, “there’s no way in hell that Megan Blake would…” My voice trailed off as I spotted them on the far side of the room. Her hand draped over his shoulder as she stared up into his eyes. Their lips were almost as close as mine had been to him, and suddenly I was furious.

“Fuck this I’m going home” I snarled, and grabbed my shit as I got to my feet. I waited for Connor to call me back, but he was too busy watching the scene. I checked my phone, saw the message from Sandy and opened it.

I need some time, Adrian. I think we should take a break. I’m sorry.

I read it three more times before shoving the phone into my pocket and rubbing my face until I saw stars. Fuck this. Fuck her. Fuck the soccer game. Fuck Coach. Fuck this fancy fucking house, but most of all fuck him!

I barged through the crowd and toward the door. I needed air or I was about to do something I’d regret. I pushed by David who had his tongue down some chick’s throat, and just as I reached the door, I was shoved and fell directly into a bedroom before suddenly being trapped.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Dylan asked, closing the door so that the music was finally drowned out.

I scrambled to my feet and reached for the handle, but he stood in front of me. “What?” He grinned, shoving his strong hand into my chest and pushing me backwards.

“I’m not in the mood for this, Dylan” I growled, and he shoved me again.

“Not in the mood for what?” He smirked.

“This! You!”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it is”.

His tongue slipped out between his lips, and he ran it across the bottom one seductively. “Did you get jealous seeing me with her?”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous” I scoffed, but I was worried that I’d given myself away with my red cheeks.

“You wish it was you, don’t you, Adrian?” He continued, grabbing my collar in his fist and sliding his warm hard across my chest.

“I’m not fucking gay” I snarled, slapping his hand away, but Dylan chuckled softly and continued forward until I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

“You sure about that, Adrian?”

My voice cracked slightly as I spoke. “Yeah… Yeah I’m fucking sure, and even if I was gay, you wouldn’t be my type, anyway”.

Another pearly smile. He’s enjoying this.

“So you’d be real upset if I just…” His hands clasped around my face, and his lips returned to mine once more. It wasn’t like the last kiss. This kiss was wet and slippery. His tongue eased into my mouth, and I could taste him on every taste bud. My body tensed up, and for just a moment, I considered punching him, until I gave up.

What was the point in fighting him? He was better than me at everything. Dylan had come into my life and flipped it upside down with ease. He won, and now, he was claiming his victory by humiliating me. Yet, the feeling began to swim from my body as the kiss continued, and only when he stepped back did I realise that I was hard.

“Not your type, huh?” He smirked, running his thumb across my wet lip, and closing his free hand around my bulge. “You should stay” he said, turning and walking back toward the door as though he hadn’t just given me the best kiss I’d ever had in my life. “My folks aren’t home until tomorrow night, and there’s nothing I love more than dumping a victory load after a game”.