Author's Note -
My boyfriend and I are driving the other day when he starts trolling me on my writing. He thinks it's funny that I chose to write about football players. The man doesn't realize what I'm dealing with, but whatever. So, he's selling me on a plot line - wealthy and sexy lawyer with a cold and distant father and a vampire who was turned during the Spanish influenza who have hot sexy sex in their love dungeon. "Double fanfic, Babe!"
The sad part wasn't that he's pitching Shades/Twilight slashfic at me, but Preston and Cory in the back of my head shouting "DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!"
*whimper*
~ Dayne
Chapter 7 - Surprisingly Tasty
The balcony and player's lounge are stuffed with people. It's on the ass-end of July, but the coaches finally have the freshmen in good enough shape to bring them into the fold, or have weeded out those who won't work on the team. To celebrate, they're hosting a massive barbeque in the locker complex. The team and coaches are all here, along with some ol' boy alumi with deep pockets and select members of the press. Thus, we all have to look presentable and act like our mothers taught us manners.
I'm coming out of my redshirt season, so there's some interest around me. However, most of it is centered on Cory, who left Freshmen Camp weeks ahead of the others. It's all anyone can talk about. The coaches announced today that he would be playing with the team this fall, the only freshman without a redshirt. He's a natural with crowds, so everyone wants to talk to him, and I can't even begrudge him that.
He wore his glasses today, which seem to draw more attention to his eyes rather than hiding them. A couple times, our eyes meet and he grins at me. Then I feel really stupid for how attracted I am to him and that just makes me cranky and irritable.
Right now he and Rice are convincing a bunch of people to put weird shit on fruit. Cory's mother sent him a care package that contained - among 5 more pairs of Converse - some Mexican candies and a bottle of chamoy, this blood red condiment that looks rather revolting. Apparently, it goes on everything, including watermelon, which is in no short supply here. Both guys have plastic cups packed with the fruit and doused in chamoy and some chili-lime salt called Tajin. I'm their next target.
"Dude, seriously," Rice says, "just try it."
Cory spears a piece of melon on his fork and waves it in my face. A drop of chamoy falls off and plops wetly on the concrete. Good thing we're outside or Vuis would pitch a fit. "Come on, Efrain. You know you want to."
I know I want to do a lot of things. They all involve things he wouldn't like. But, the kid says my name with that taunting voice and good boy grin, and suddenly I can't say no to him.
"Fine." I bite the fruit off his fork and immediately wish I hadn't. This weird mix of salty, sweet, and spicy, I swear there's this kind of pickled flavor somewhere.
"Oh, I ask you three times, but the first time Card says something..."
I'm probably more infatuated with Cory than I should be, but I seriously do not do everything he asks me to. I finish chewing and try to swallow, so I can defend myself. Yet, the longer it's in my mouth...
