Personal Foul

by Hayley Faiman

  In a perfect world, I would never be with Trent. He doesn’t make me feel good, inside or out. His touch isn’t gentle, loving, or caring. He’s angry and entitled; and no matter what I say or do, he always criticizes me.

  “I’m too tired to walk all the way across campus. I guess I’ll sleep here,” he mutters as he finishes disrobing, pulling his boxers on and leaving the rest of his clothes in a pile.

  On shaky legs, I climb up the ladder to my small bed and turn to my side, facing the wall. I try to be as small as possible when Trent arrives, but he’s so big that he takes up more than half of the bed.

  Draping his arm over my waist, he buries his face in my hair. His hand slips under my shirt, and he wraps his fingers around my breast, giving it a squeeze.

  “Know your place, Jess,” he growls against my neck.

  He squeezes me so hard, I whimper with pain, knowing there will be fingertip bruises on my breast in a few hours. He moves his hand to my hip, and I hear his slow, even breaths behind me as he falls asleep.

  I close my eyes tightly and Cole fills my vision. I imagine he wouldn’t be the way Trent is when it comes to sex. Not when just the gentle touch of his thumb on my wrist sent a thrill straight throughout my entire body. He made me blush, and his deep, raw voice made my belly dip.

  No, I imagine Cole would use his gentle caresses all over my body, and I would break out in goosebumps over every single square inch from his touch. I shouldn’t be thinking about him, not when Trent is behind me, not when I know I’ll never leave him. Trent is my past, present, and future. There is no use in me thinking of anybody else. Not ever.

  “SOMETHING’S UP WITH you,” Ines announces.

  It’s been two weeks since Cole came to Bison Witches, and he hasn’t been back. At least not during my shift. It has me feeling…disappointed. I shouldn’t be feeling anything, yet, I am.

  Trent has been around me more than usual, especially since he’s not partying during the week anymore. That fact alone has me on edge, as well. I feel like I haven’t been able to breathe in two whole weeks.

  “Just tired,” I shrug as I load up my backpack for my first class of the day.

  Ines narrows her eyes at me and presses her lips together in complete disbelief. “The boyfriend still on probation from the football team? Does that have anything to do with your sudden mood shift?” she asks.

  “I’m just a little overwhelmed with classes, and Trent, and work,” I admit. It’s partially true. I’ve been working six nights a week, trying to catch up on homework for both Trent and me on Sundays, all while keeping up with my classwork during the week. Plus, dealing with Trent on a daily basis.

  I’m exhausted.

  She shakes her head, “Girl, you need to tell your man to back the fuck off,” she announces. My eyes widen and her mouth tips up in a smile. “I know you won’t. I just don’t want to see you get burnt out your freshman year. We still have majors to declare and some serious fun has yet to be had.”

  A knock on the door interrupts our conversation, and I give Ines a half smile as I turn to answer it. Trent is there, a wide shit-eating grin on his lips. The look on his face makes me nervous, but I smile at him anyway.

  When he wraps his hand around my waist and dips his face so that his lips brush mine, I’m taken aback a little. Trent doesn’t really kiss me or show much affection, it’s the way he’s always been.

  “I’m off probation,” he announces.

  I can’t help but join in his happiness by jumping up and wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “I’ll see you guys later,” Ines says as she scoots past us and leaves the room.

  Trent glances at her as she walks away, then he looks back at me and his eyes have darkened, I know exactly what he wants, but I really don’t feel like it. Not that I ever really do, but today, even less. “Let’s celebrate before I have to get to weight training.”

  “I really have to get ready for work,” I murmur. He takes a step back, his eyes narrowing on me. “Have you talked to your parents lately?” I ask as I ignore the pissed off vibe he’s throwing my direction.

  I shimmy on my short black skirt and tuck my white t-shirt inside as I wait for him to answer. “I don’t want to talk about my parents right now, Jess, I want to fuck you,” he states. My eyes widen at his blunt words.

  “I have work, Tent,” I whisper. He reaches out and wraps his hand around my waist, pulling me against his chest.

  “You have time for your man,” he grunts as his lips touch mine and his hands travel down to lift up my skirt.

  When his fingers dig into the flesh of my ass, I let out a whimper in pain. Tugging my panties down, he turns us around and backs me against the door. His kiss is wet, too wet, and too rough. I hear the sound of his pants rustling, then he pulls back.

  I watch as he tears the condom wrapper off with his teeth before he rolls it on. When he grabs behind my knees, and lifts them, I wrap my hands around his shoulders to stabilize myself against the door. I pinch my eyes closed as he forces himself inside of me.

  “I’m getting sick of these fucking condoms, Jess. Get your ass down to the clinic,” he growls as he pulls out and them slams back inside. My breath hitches and I try to calm my breathing.

  He grunts as he fucks me against the wall, and I bury my face in his neck to keep from looking at him, from crying, or showing him my face twisted in pain. Luckily, a few minutes into it, I start to grow slick with arousal, and I take a deep breath as the pain begins to ebb.

  “Jess, fuck, you always feel good,” he murmurs against my ear. I don’t respond as I relax in his arms.

  When he finally comes, I breathe a sigh of relief. Then he pulls out of me and allows my feet to touch the ground again. I bend and grab my panties from the floor, pulling them up as I smooth down my skirt.

  “Go to the clinic, babe,” he murmurs as he fixes his own clothes.

  I let out a sigh. “I just don’t want any chance of anything happening,” I murmur.

  Trent reaches for me and cups my cheek as his eyes search mine. “You think I wouldn’t take care of you? Haven’t I always taken care of you?” he asks.

  I want to snort and tell him no; his parents have always taken care of me. He never has. Nevertheless, I nod in agreement, though I don’t agree even in the slightest.

  “I’ll look into it when I can,” I lie.

  I hold my breath, wondering if he believes the lie. It’s the only thing I’ve ever lied about, birth control, and I’ll keep up the false truth until I absolutely can’t any longer. He narrows his eyes on me before he grins, and then he presses his lips to mine briefly. “What time you get off tonight?”

  “Two in the morning, but I probably won’t get back until after three,” I say as I start to gather up my things.

  “Fuck, why do you have to work so late? I have to run in the morning with a few of the guys. I’ll see you for our first class tomorrow,” he murmurs before he opens the door and leaves, without giving me a chance to respond.

  I let out a sigh and walk away, myself. I need to get to work, and now I have to hurry to be there on time.

  COLE

  LOOKING OUT ON the field, I grin. These boys have finally got their shit together. It took some serious fucking threats, but it seems like they’re here, they’re present, and they’re sober.

  I’m not stupid enough to think that it will stay this way. There are a few egos that have yet to dissipate—including, Trent Keller. Putting him on probation did nothing but sober him up a bit. His attitude still leaves a shit ton to be desired.

  “Keller,” I call out. He stops what he’s doing, turns to me, and I swear I see steam rising from his ears and coming out of his helmet.

  He jogs toward me, and for some reason, my mind shifts to his girlfriend, Jessa. I haven’t seen her again, though I’ve walked past the Bison Witches restaurant every single night.

  Like a total fucking creeper, I’ve watched her through the window and resisted going insid
e.

  There’s something about her, something about her shy demeanor that has me aching to hear all of her secrets. Something about her body that my hands yearn to touch. Something about her lips that mine beg to kiss. Fuck me, I am so fucked.

  “Coach,” he grunts as he reaches me.

  “You won’t be playing homecoming. I just thought I’d let you know so you didn’t get pissed you weren’t on the starting lineup,” I state. His eyes narrow.

  “Why the fuck not?” he shouts. I swear, I see his knee bend with the reaction to stomp his foot.

  With a shake of my head, I lay down the truth. “Most of the guys you see out there will never actually play on the field during a game, Keller. You will. You’re good. But you’re young. You’re a talented but immature player. This isn’t high school ball anymore, and you are not king of the field. So you probably won’t play at all this year; maybe next year, either.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asks as he grinds his jaw.

  I shrug slightly, unsure of why I’m telling him really. Maybe part of it is that he’s been present and sober since my confrontation with him. Maybe because I can’t keep his girlfriend out of my mind. Maybe because I’m a fucking dick. I don’t know. So I lie.

  “Just wanted to make sure you knew. A lot of incoming freshman have ideas of what their first season will be like. When it isn’t that way, they get discouraged. I don’t want you to give up,” I state.

  Keller gives me a cocky grin before he lifts his chin. “I’ll be on first string next year. Fucking watch me,” he states before he turns around and jogs back to the field to continue running drills.

  “Cocky little fuck,” John chuckles from next to me. “Tiff’s got some party or some shit tonight. Wanna grab dinner at Bison Witches with me?” he asks, knowing it’s one of my favorites.

  An image of Jessa flashes in my mind again, her long, lean legs and long, dark blonde hair; her sweet smile and her light brown eyes that hold so much that I want to know.

  I wonder if she’ll be wearing the same short dress, or maybe a pair of pants, so that I can see the outline of her ass up close and personal.

  “Yeah, lets head there after practice,” I grunt.

  Practice lasts until eight in the evening, and John and I both finish up some paper and computer work for another hour before we head to the restaurant together. The same kid from two weeks ago is behind the hostess station, and he gives me a grin as I walk up to him.

  “Same section, Coach?” he asks with a smirk.

  “Yeah, Keith,” I nod.

  John and I make our way toward the table, following behind the kid. We sit across from each other in the booth, our menus in hand. John studies the menu while I shamelessly try to catch a glance of Jessa. I shouldn’t even be here, let alone looking for her, but there’s just something about her, a need to know more.

  It doesn’t take me long to find her, her hair giving her away. She’s facing a table of guys, and I can tell by the looks on their faces that they’re into her, hanging on her every word. I instantly become jealous.

  When she’s finished with them, she turns around, but I keep my eyes on them rather than on her. They’re checking out her ass as she makes her way toward me. One of them gives the other a high five and points at her.

  Something inside of me snaps. They’re looking at her. They shouldn’t be allowed to set their eyes on her. Not that I have any more right than they do, but fuck, she’s not theirs.

  “If you don’t stop glaring at those kids, they could actually die from your death-gaze,” John says. My eyes snap over to his.

  “Welcome to Bison Witches, can I get you something to drink?” Jessa asks, her sweet voice floating down to my ears.

  I look up from where I’m sitting, and I watch as her breath hitches and her chest rises and falls as she takes me in. Her t-shirt is straining against her tits, her skirt so fucking short it barely covers her pussy and ass.

  Goddamn she’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  John orders something, but I don’t hear him. My focus is on Jessa. When she turns to me, I notice that she’s biting the inside of her cheek and that her legs are pressed together. I grab her wrist and press my thumb against the inside, feeling her heartrate thrum against the pad of my thumb.

  “Rogue Dead Guy Ale, baby,” I murmur. Her heartrate speeds up a little more.

  “Okay, Cole,” she whispers. I swear my cock stands at full attention beneath my pants.

  Fuck me.

  I release her wrist and she turns, scurrying away toward the bar. My eyes are unable to stay off of her ass and her legs with each and every step she takes.

  “You planning on explaining that to me?” John asks as he leans back in the booth.

  I run my fingers through my still-too-long hair and look at the ceiling before I drop my gaze to his. “Trent Keller’s girlfriend,” I state. John’s eyes widen as his brows practically climb into his hairline. “She came to me, wanted me to give Keller another chance. Promised she’d take care of his drinking issue. I happened in here later that night and here she was,” I explain.

  “Well, now I know where you know her from, but you’re going to need to explain that scene just a bit more to me,” he grumbles.

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s obviously taken.”

  “Yeah, by a little fucking, egotistical, selfish prick asshole. Sweet girl like that, with her big brown eyes aimed at you, all gooey and shit—that will not last long,” he chuckles.

  A bartender drops our beers off, and I lift my chin as I bring the glass to my lips. “She’s eighteen, John. Eighteen,” I stress.

  He shrugs and grins. “She’s hot as shit, though. If I were single, I wouldn’t care how old she is, I’d be all over that.”

  “You’re a fucking pig; and you’ve been with Tiff since you hit puberty, so no, you wouldn’t be all over anything,” I chuckle.

  Jessa appears a few minutes later to take our orders. I don’t touch her again, though I still have the urge to lay some sort of claim to her, since those fucking assholes are still staring at her. When she walks away again, I try to keep from watching her, but I fucking fail. John chuckles at my pathetic-ness.

  “Eighteen, a student, and dating a player,” I remind him on a grumble.

  He smiles widely, “Your dick, eyes, and heart haven’t received the memo there, partner.”

  “Heart?” I ask in confusion.

  “My guess is you’ve seen her a couple times, talked a little, and yet you want more. You’re fighting it all because she’s with dickhead Keller—but the way you’re looking at her, it’s more than a physical thing. You want to know more about her. She’s intrigued you. Same with Tiff and me. I mean, she was hot as hell in those bright purple leggings and scrunched socks back in the day, but that’s not what made me want more of her or want to keep her.”

  “So, what? I pursue her even though I know she’s with someone else?” I ask, taking another sip of my beer. “What kind of dick would that make me?”

  He shakes his head. “She’s looking at you the exact same way; although she’s got a little confusion mixed in there, probably because no other guy has ever dared to look at Keller’s girl before. Yet, here you are, looking, and obvious about it, too. She’s curious and definitely confused.”

  “You sure your degree isn’t in psychology?” I ask on a laugh.

  Jessa sets our plates down and asks if we need anything else. Without thinking, I reach out for her hand and give it a squeeze. “No, baby, we’re good.”

  Her eyes widen to the size of saucers, and she turns and hurries away from me. “You’re fucked,” John states as he picks up his sandwich and shoves it into his mouth.

  “I’m completely fucked,” I agree as I lift my head and find her with my eyes.

  She’s staring right at me. Her face is tinted pink and her lips are slightly parted. Completely and totally fucked—that’s exactly what I am. I want her. Christ. I want her more
than I’ve ever wanted any woman in my entire life. I turn back to John, and he just smiles his shit-eating grin. I roll my eyes.

  “This is going to be fun,” he chuckles. I throw a French fry at him, and he winks as he catches it and shoves it into his mouth to join his sandwich.

  Jessa is going to be the death of me. I already know it.

  For whatever reason—I fucking welcome it.

  JESSA

  HE’S HERE. IT’S been two weeks since I’ve seen him and he’s here. I press my back against the wall in the kitchen, and one of the chef’s looks at me in confusion. I shake my head, and he just smiles before he goes back to whatever he was doing.

  What am I going to do? I can’t stay in here until he leaves. I have other tables to see to. But it’s Cole, and he touched me, and I swear I panted and melted into a stupid puddle at his firm but gentle touch.

  Then he called me baby—baby. I could do nothing but stare at him when he did. The word sounded so damn sexy leaving his lips, and I wanted to know what it would sound like if we were alone, maybe even naked together.

  I’m such a slut for even thinking about him like that. I have Trent, and I should be content in that we’ve been together for so long. He’s not going anywhere. Granted, he’s not perfect, but neither am I. Nobody is. He’s always been there, his parents have always been there, and he’s the only man I’ve ever known—the only one I’ve ever even kissed.

  I shouldn’t even think about Cole, about his light green eyes and the way they look at me.

  I shouldn’t think about what he looks like beneath his shirt—wondering if he’s as toned as he appears, if he has hair on his chest, and what it would feel like against my naked breasts.

  I shouldn’t think about what my fingers would feel like sinking into his hair, if it’s soft; and his lips, if they’re soft, too. I definitely shouldn’t be thinking about his lips and how they would feel on every inch of my body.