Chapter 4

Maddox

I need a freaking doctor.

Something is seriously wrong with my head. Did I hit it or something? Possible brain damage from birth that didn’t show up until now? I don’t know what is happening to me, but I’m acting weird!

I don’t date.

I don’t do relationships.

I don’t want a WAG, a partner, or any romance in my life.

Most girls are bloodsuckers and only out after your money. I know that, and I stay clear of the other gender.

I should focus on the game, focus on the goddamn football, and not fall for any distractions. And girls are fucking distractions!

Yes, I know this better than anyone.

So why am I as hard as a rock in the shower while thinking about kissing Michelle fucking Henriksson?????!!!!!

Why her?

WHY!

I punch the wall and groan at the pain. “FUCK!!!”

“Will you please keep it down?!” Jason’s voice comes from the other side of the wall because, let’s face it, we live in misery. Paper-thin walls and no fucking privacy. The frathouse is a goddamn joke and sometimes a running parody.

I groan, and Jason sighs. “Maddox, I’ve said it once and I will say it again. Keep it down, will you? I’m trying to focus here.”

I punch the wall. “No, I’m going through something!”

“Just wank it out already, amigo!” Jason shouts back. “You’ve been saying ‘Michelle’ over and over again, groaning and then not finishing your business. Just rub one out.”

This fucking linebacker! I swear I will kill him, fucking kill him!

It doesn’t matter that we are best friends—Jason is dead to me!

“Shut up, Deluca!” I growl back at the perverted idiot. “And stop listening through the wall like a creep!”

“I have a stomach ache… I can’t leave the toilet even if I wanted to. There is no choice but to listen to your pathetic voice.”

“This idiot…” I mutter to myself. “I can’t do it now, thanks to you!”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re listening!”

into your room and lock the

but not to

not look up Michelle Henriksson’s online profile while

Jesus fucking Christ!

annoying?! I could murder him and bury

FUCKING LOOK HER

quarterback, but you turn everyone down.

Hard in the shower?!

My type?!

is not my

for about forty minutes now, and I’m getting more and more convinced to name my own daughter

Will.

“Empty threats… Empty threats…”

“I’m being serious!”

is actually pretty cute… Rosy cheeks, yeah? Very delicate and small too. Ha-ha. You like

FUCKING

annoyance. Some best friend he is—the dude needs to have his head evaluated if he thinks

I’m even

Michelle, yet all I see is

of

“GAH, I hate myself!”

towel. My cock is still painfully

can’t finish myself

No.

have to

Henriksson of all freaking people. She doesn’t even like me! That little thing is terrified of me, and

down on my bed. My arm hangs down to the floor, and

know better than that… I

up my phone, breathing hard while staring at

This is so weird…

What am I doing?

only texted girls to tell them my address before a hookup. Other than that, I don’t text with girls. I don’t call them either. Neither do I date,

stand me up

turn to “seen” and feel like puking when I realize I’m actually smiling. FUCKING SMILING while texting a girl.

You inserted your own number into my

put in my number there… Not because

is no other

Me: Yes.

And your earlier words, is that a

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