The Gambles(9)

He was eyeing Allie earlier. I saw him, but why would that bother me? All men were dogs. Everyone knew that, and I didn't even know this girl. So why'd I even care?

I downed a large gulp of my beer and said, "There's more to life than tits and ass, you know. Women are more than just their bodies. They have brains and a personality, you caveman."

I was quoting stuff I'd heard in my college classes, pontificating about women and culture, trying to impress my friend, but the truth was I loved the female form and every one of its magnificent curves. Truth be told, I believed that women were God's gift, not beer. I had to keep it a secret though, lest all the women I met discovered the truth. Yup, I was a sucker for each and every one of them. But if women knew this, then they'd know my game, have an unfair advantage. A nice handful of tit, or slapping a firm round rump, always drove my cock straight to the sky. But sometimes it was more than just the physical; it was the overall package. Like with this girl, Allie. She was so far from typical. The hair, the eyes, especially her eyes, and the way loose strands of hair fell down around her face. She had the most seductive look, like she'd just been fucked hard and rough.



       
         
       
        

And I liked that.

A lot.

I wanted to fuck her. When I was in the store talking to her, I swear, it felt like an electric current jumped the gap of space between our bodies, and lit into me. And I'd never felt that before.

But I'd never tell. I'd never give away my secret and let women know the power they had over me. I couldn't let emotions, my excited cock, or anything ruin my plans for my future in the NFL.

I looked over at AJ. I could see that he wasn't the least bit impressed with my lecture.

"You and your philosophies of life. What about, 'no girls, no commitments'? How does your latest heartthrob fit into that scheme?" AJ asked.

I pulled in my chin and blew out a breath. "Pfft." I waved a hand in the air. "You mean, Allie? I'm stickin' to my motto, man. Don't have time for a relationship. Not while I'm trying to make the pros." I leaned my elbows on the table. "That shit just drags you down. Girls get all demanding. Want to have a career and live near their job, or wanna live near their mom or sister or some shit like that. I'm telling you, I've seen this shit happen, and I can't be tied down like that. No siree Bob, gotta be free. Go wherever the NFL takes me. No commitments, my friend, not now."

"You don't know shit," he said. "You never had a real relationship."

"Bullshit." I straightened in my chair and slapped a palm down on the table. "What about Monica?"

"You broke up with Monica," he said, his voice flat.

"I never broke up with Monica."

"No, you just started banging Kim." He took another drink of beer.

"Well, a guy's gotta keep his spontaneity," I said.

AJ was alluding to my last relationship disaster. At the time, my head was so far up my ass, I didn't even know it. In my sophomore year in college, I had a long-time girlfriend. Got all tied up in that shit. Thought I was in love, and maybe I was for about-ten seconds, although AJ will swear it was longer, and I admit, I was pussy whipped. Then after a couple months, it all became so complicated. It started with her texting every five minutes, demanding to know what I was doing, who I was with. She made me crazy. No, she made me fucking insane, and in the end, I had to break up with her just to keep my sanity.

This year, my junior year, I decided to go for my dream. I got an agent, put my name on the draft list for the NFL and was determined nothing would get in the way. Then I was invited to the NFL Scouting Combine in February, a rather dehumanizing experience, to say the least. Talk about feeling like a piece of meat. I was measured and tested a million different ways for coaches, general managers, doctors and scouts to assess my readiness and skills. Implications of an athlete's performance during the Combine could affect their draft status and salary. An athlete's "draft stock" increased based on superior measurable qualities such as size, speed, and strength. 

But I was gonna do it, go pro, and hell, I could finish college later. I was impatient and headstrong, and maybe that was part of what made me a good football player. It wasn't that college was difficult; the subject matter came easily to me, but I was convinced I was wasting my time in class, when I could be in the NFL doing what I loved to do, play football.

After I witnessed my buddy, Sean, suffer a knee injury in a game last season-that was it. I made the decision to put my name in the Draft. I couldn't waste another year wondering if my dream, too, would be killed by an injury. If it's gonna happen, yeah, it's gonna happen, but I'd rather have it happen while on a professional team, instead of a college team. At least then I'd have no regrets.