Quarterback's Secret Baby(27)

I actually didn't even want to go with the guys - not right then, anyway. I knew they were just ragging on me but the term 'pussy-whipped bitch' got under my skin a little. The song was ending, though, and Tasha was waving across the gym at a group of her own friends who had just arrived.

"Go," she said. "Go hang out with the jocks. Meet you back here - whenever? An hour?"

"Cool. Yeah. Ok, Tasha. Be good."

I bent down to kiss her one more time. If only I'd stayed where I was. If only I hadn't joined Aaron and Jake and all the other football players in the empty classroom they'd managed to sequester and immediately started downing shots of vodka.

"How did you get this in here?" I asked, swigging straight from the bottle.

"You fucking savage, Barlow. Use a goddamn glass." Josh Barton shoved a shot glass at me and nodded towards a cabinet at the back of the room. "Snuck it in two weeks ago, didn't we? That cabinet is always empty and we knew they were gonna be searching everyone tonight. So we just stocked up when Sokolsky's older brother was in town to buy us the liquor."

I grinned, impressed at the unusual forethought from my teammates. I guess if there was partying involved they could manage it.

"So," someone said, coming up behind me and slapping me on the back hard enough to make me take a step forward. Only one person was big enough to hit that hard as part of a friendly greeting I turned around. Yep, Steve Carlson. Our biggest and best linebacker.

"Steve," I said as someone else pushed a shot into his hand. "What's up, man?"

"Tonight? Probably me, later on. So many cherries just ripe for the picking - you know what I'm saying?"

I knew what Steve Carlson was saying. When I didn't respond immediately he started razzing me.

"Oh yeah, Barlow. Heard you got yourself a bitch. Full-time bitch, I mean."

There was something jarring about hearing Tasha referred to as a 'bitch.' Before we'd gotten together that kind of language was just normal locker-room stuff. I had no trouble taking part. And I knew if I said anything I was going to get the 'aww, we just mean a female' line - a line I myself had, I was sure, probably used a few times. Still, I didn't like it being used in reference to Tasha. I looked around for the vodka and signaled one of the guys to pour me another one.

"What?" Steve asked, watching me closely. That asshole always knew when he'd gotten to someone. And up until that point, it had never been me. "How many bitches you called bitches before, Barlow? You gonna go all white knight now because it's your girl we're talking about? You think she's something special, do you? Yeah, I can see that puppy-dog look in your eyes right now, man. Well, listen up. You're gonna go off to college - and believe me, these Reinhardt bitches ain't got shit on college ladies - and she'll still be here. How long do you think it's going to take her to get a little lonely? How long 'til she's hopping on every dick she sees?"

I knew what Steve was doing. He was doing what he always did when he sensed a sore spot - poking it over and over and over until he got a reaction.

"Fuck off, Carlson" I said, snatching a shot out of someone's hand as it was offered to me and downing it in one gulp. 'You're just mad because you're never going to get so much as a kiss on one of those fat cheeks of yours from a girl like Tasha."

"What was that?" Steve boomed, stepping towards me. I did the same, getting up in his face and everyone just piled on and pulled us away from each other before it could go any farther. It was Sokolsky who dragged me to the back of the room and handed me a bottle of water.

"Cool it, Kaden. It's prom night. Don't let that piece of shit get to you - you know he's just sore because he doesn't have NFL scouts swarming all over him like you do."

I opened the water and took a big gulp. "Yeah," I said to Aaron. "I know. I'm sorry, man - actually, yeah, I'm sorry. Here I am getting all steamed up over this shit and I know damn well I gave it to you for months. Karma's a bitch, huh?"

To his credit, Aaron just waved my apology off and told me not to worry about it. After that little almost-fight with Carlson the atmosphere in the room seemed to chill out a little. A bunch of cheerleaders showed up, which admittedly created a handy distraction for the rest of the guys and I drank more vodka. A lot more vodka, actually. I remember looking outside and noticing that it was already dark out - it had still been daylight when I'd left Tasha in the gym. It crossed my drunk mind to go and find her but as soon as I tried to head out someone - I forget who - handed me another shot and started talking about the relative merits of various about NFL quarterbacks - a topic which even my sober self wouldn't have been able to resist.