Grand Facade

Three Years Ago
Sammy

“Locke,” I say as a way of greeting my QB. “How’s the hood?”
Klay laughs. “I grew up in suburban Connecticut, not Compton, dickhead.”
Klay headed to his childhood home the other day for the annual neighborhood Halloween party. He’s being a little bitch over the girl that got away, who he’s afraid of seeing again, and the rest of the guys and I had to listen to his crying for weeks leading up to this.
“Well, you were acting like you were going home to get shot,” I say into the phone as I stand with my back against the wall in the elevator to the apartment I share with Adrian Holebeck, the fullback on the Maine Tritons.
Adrian and I live in a two-bedroom in Waterland Isle, which is the town over from Lime Peak, where our NFL team plays.
We moved in together to save money right out of the draft. Can we now afford to live alone? Sure, but packing up all our shit and moving again just seems stupid, so we make it work.
And the location is great.
We’re not far from the stadium—Lime Peak, Falls Village, and Waterland Isle are so small, they don’t equal one typical size town—or anything else, for that matter. But the privacy here is decent, and since being coined the Dream Team in the league, that isn’t so easy to come by anymore.
“I feel like I just did,” he laments. “Why had I not prepared myself for Gina to be a grown-ass woman with curves in all the right places? Why had I been picturing her as the same shy eighteen-year-old girl she was when we left for college?” Klay asks, obviously still rattled over this girl he knew.
“Ah…” I stutter as the elevator hits my floor.
“I’ll tell you why,” he continues as I walk down the hallway to my unit at the end. “She’s the only girl on the face of this planet that doesn’t have one social media account. Trust me, I check. A lot.”
Never again being the guy who wants a girlfriend, I don’t get what his problem is. She’s a girl he knew in high school and never had sex with. I don’t know why he cares so much about this Halloween shindig or seeing this chick.
Not knowing what to say, I ask the obvious, or so I think. “You going to fuck her?”
“Dude?”
“What?” I ask as I fumble around in my gym bag for my keys.
“Nothing. You’re worse than me. I don’t know who did this to you, when, or how, but you need to work that shit out.”
Lisa Rosen.
My college girlfriend.
The girl I thought was the one.
The girl I thought felt the same about me.
The girl I was wrong about.
Is he right? Yes. Am I going to listen to his advice? Not happening anytime soon.
I have more pussy coming my way than I know what to do with.
All of us Tritons do.
Why would I want to turn that away?
I don’t.
None of us are. Well, maybe Klay now, but the rest of us—Felix, Killer, Leo, Adrian—have no interest in handing our balls over to some cleat chaser. Gavin, our stats guy, is a whole other story.
“I’ll add that to my to-do list.” I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “What are you freaking out about, for real?” I ask so I can move this call along and get inside my apartment.
Klay releases a sigh. “Can this stay between us? I don’t need everyone giving me shit over this, but I saw her and—”
“If you’re going to tell me you felt your heart flutter or some shit—”
Before I can finish, he jumps back in with, “I jerked off on my childhood bed.”
I laugh, then unlock my door. “As much as I’d love to hear the rest of this story,” I say with full sarcasm. “I’m home and need a shower. Good luck with that. Talk later.”
I disconnect the call and scrub my hand over my face.
Walking into my place, I toss my keys and phone on the table Adrian and I keep by the door for our mail and such.
My first stop is the kitchen for water, but on the way, I spot a discarded pair of pink lace panties on the counter.
That’s weird because I know they weren’t here this morning when I left and Adrian left before me.
Maybe he beat me home, but he was still talking to Killer and Felix when I pulled out of the parking lot, so he’d be hard-pressed to have made it here ahead of me.
I know my man has some quick moves with the ladies, but he must have had this one on speed dial and here at the ready for when he raced home, got her naked and into his room before I walked in.
“Dude,” I call out. “You here?” I clear my throat when I don’t hear a response.
I pick up the panties, examining the lace as it makes my cock twitch.
I walk closer to Adrian’s door, then lean an ear to it to see if I hear him in there. When I hear nothing, I jiggle the knob.
Not locked.
That’s weird too.
Unless he was in such a hurry to get this girl into his bed, he forgot to lock the door, Adrian isn’t in there.
I turn the handle, and sure enough, no one is in the room.
Figuring I just missed the panties this morning when I grabbed my protein shake, or that Ali, the cleaning lady, was here and left them there because she didn’t know what else to do with them, I head toward my room.
“Mmmmm.” I hear a woman moan before I can walk through the door.
Hold up. Is that asshole fucking some chick in my bed?
“Fucking, dude,” I start as I walk through the now opened door and come up short.
Freezing in place, I stare at the girl in my bed.