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

but not

look up Michelle Henriksson’s online profile while you’re

Jesus fucking Christ!

be so goddamn annoying?! I could murder him and bury

NOT FUCKING LOOK

turn everyone down. I want

Hard in the shower?!

My type?!

is not

for about forty minutes now, and I’m getting more

Will. Murder. You. In. Your.

“Empty threats… Empty threats…”

“I’m being serious!”

cheeks, yeah? Very delicate and small too. Ha-ha. You like that,

WILL FUCKING

he is—the dude needs to have his head evaluated if

fucking Christ, I’m even

hotter girls than Michelle, yet all I see is her doe-eyes, sweet

out of

“GAH, I hate myself!”

and wrap myself in a towel. My cock is still

finish myself

No.

to

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

enter my room and throw myself down on my bed. My

shouldn’t text her… I know better than that… I

breathing hard while

This is so weird…

What am I doing?

I don’t text with girls. I

stand me

feel like puking when I realize I’m actually

inserted your own number into my

standing me up again. I had to put in my number there… Not because I like her or anything, but

no other

Me: Yes.

words, is that a

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